Chadpocalypse - 2:17 Peace of Mind [1 of 2]

Hey everyone, I know it's been a long time since I posted the last chapter of Chadpocalypse, but unfortunately I had a book to edit! Now that Downpour is off for it's final round with the line-editors, I've got time to finish out this one :). Sorry, to leave you all hanging on this climactic battle, I had to split this chapter in two, because it's a long one. Link to part 2 is below. 

If you want to catch up, here's a link to the collection: https://www.abctales.com/collection/chadpocalypse

2:17 Peace of Mind

Once inside the museum, it was hard to keep everything straight. Camera bulbs flashed from every conceivable angle, and the strange attire of the people inside made Chad feel out of place. He straightened his suit, still uncomfortable in the lavish attire. They entered a two-story gallery of Da Vinci’s drawings. In the center of the room, a wooden replica of one of a previously unbuilt flying machine hung on wires.

    At the far corner of the room, a black-clothed table had been set up with a myriad of glass bottles behind it. Judging from the line that stretched nearly all the way through the exhibit, Chad guessed it was the bar. He scanned the room, looking for any obvious signs of evil. A couple of the more elaborate outfits did involve horns, but none of them appeared demonic in nature.  

     Chad’s eyes drifted to the balcony, and that’s when he spotted her. Leaning over the railing was a woman dressed in a blood-red, sequin bomber jacket, ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with the symbol for anarchy in the center. Her hair was done up in random spikes that made it look like a bomb might have gone off toward the back of her scalp. Jet black glasses that were far too small to be functional clung tightly to her eyes, barely obscuring them.

She held a smartphone loosely and Chad could almost hear the furious tapping as her fingers punched at the screen like miniature pugilists. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. “That’s her,” he whispered.

     James followed his gaze and his eyes narrowed. “So, that’s the woman that can start a war with a single tweet. She’s…”

     “Rad,” breathed Chad. He couldn’t help it. Without even a single word spoken between them, he could see a future where they escaped all of this biblical nonsense together. End of the world or not, he felt a strange admiration for her. He looked down at his own suit and suddenly felt false.

     “Should have shown up in the burlap,” whispered the pink cherub popping into existence on his shoulder.

     “Shut it,” muttered Chad.

     James gave him a worried look. “You think she looks rad?”

     Chad shook his head, trying to clear the dream-like quality it had taken on. “S-sorry,” he stammered and brushed at the cherub on his shoulder.

     “Well fuck you too,” it taunted. “I’m going to find a drink.” On limp angel wings, the cherub fluttered away, nearly smacking into one of the room’s many marble columns. The creature recovered and zig-zagged across the room, making an approximation of a b-line toward the bar.

     “We need to focus, Chad.” James’s eyes were still locked on the horseman. “Do I need to remind you that she’s a herald of the apocalypse?”

     Yes, he thought. “No, I understand.” Chad shook his head again, still unable to clear it.

     “Right, so if she can start a war with that phone, we need to find a way to spark peace.”

     “I could distract her.” Chad imagined himself at his most charming, sweeping her off her feet, and…

     “Ok, right, but what then?”

     “You take her phone, make peace.” It was a simple solution and involved James doing most of the legwork. Besides, maybe once they had used her to create peace, War wouldn’t be a member of the apocalyptic trio anymore. She might want to settle down in a grimy flat in Midway with him.

     “Great, glad the whole team is operating on the same level. So, you go flirt with her and I magically create peace with her phone somehow.”

     “Perfect.” Chad was already headed for the stairs, not noting James’s sarcasm in the slightest.

     Meanwhile, the cherub sat on the floor across the room eating an entire jar of maraschino cherries. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dummy!” It stuck out its ruby-red tongue and blew a raspberry. Flecks of cherry flew out scattershot on the pristine tile.  

     Chad looked at the cherub and tried to will it out of existence. Instead, the strange oversized baby continued to goggle at him through watery eyes. LSD, never again, he thought, only half serious.

     “Chad, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I talked about working as a team,” called James from behind him, struggling to keep up.

     Chad looked over his shoulder. “Trust me, this is the way.” He couldn’t tell if it was his adoration for the punk rock influencer icon leaning over the balcony or actual divine inspiration, but it felt like the right move. Something propelled him up the stairs and he had the same feeling as when he charged pestilence with the push broom. There was a righteous certainty in the action.

     “Christ,” breathed James. He crossed himself and looked up toward heaven. “If you’re watching us, Joe, I hope your death wasn’t wasted on this idiot.”

     Chad didn’t hear him. He was rounding the spiral stairs and walking out onto the second story of the exhibit. The balcony afforded a better view of the flying machine, and under normal circumstances, he might have stopped to get a better look. Instead, he walked directly toward War, throwing caution to the wind.

Read on to part 2