Chadpocalypse - 2:8 - Enter Sandman

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2:8 Enter Sandman

Finding the locations of the remaining two horsemen turned out to be an easy task. The Order kept detailed files and maintained constant surveillance of high-profile spiritual entities on Earth. “We had some trouble initially,” explained Madeline as she looked through a series of notes on a paper printout. “But, after a while, you really get a knack for sniffing out aberrations in the day-to-day. These creatures like to think they fly under the radar, but by our standards, they’re quite flashy.”

     “See: Naked man falling through the roof of a coffee shop on a lightning bolt,” added James. “I’m sure whoever did that thought they were being very subtle.”

     “I heard about that.” Madeline continued to ruffle through sheets of paper. “Right into a coffee shop run by a demon no less.” She looked up at Chad. “Did it hurt?”

     “The hangover was one to remember,” he admitted. The actual act of flying through the coffee shop roof was a blur. Time had directly passed from him fighting Pestilence to rising naked from the floor like a terminator.

     Madeline laughed. “I can only imagine. Well, you can rest easy tonight.” She pulled a manila envelope off a stack and handed it to Chad.

     He nearly dropped it, surprised by its weight.

     “And how do you propose we do that?” asked Joe, growing testy again. “We’ve got work to do.”

     Madeline smiled like a parent talking down to a willful child. “I’ve just done some of it for you. That,” she pointed to the dossier now held in Chad’s hands, “is the location of War and Famine. Turns out they like to travel together, who knew?”

     Joe opened his mouth to speak, but Madeline cut him off. “It was rhetorical. We knew. God, who knew becoming a priest would make you dense?” She stared right into Joe’s eyes, waiting for a retort, but none came. He just looked tired and old, two things she hoped never to become.

     Silence hung over the room, growing to fill the space until Chad couldn’t take it anymore. “Well, thanks for the help, and for not burning us alive.” He tucked the dossier under his arm. “I guess we’ll be going now. Horsemen to murder and such.” He stifled a yawn as he said it. When was the last time he had proper sleep? He couldn’t remember.

     Madeline broke her withering gaze and snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re practically dead on your feet.” She looked around to James and Joe. “Some of you more than others, I suppose.”

     “Well we can’t stay here.” Joe’s eyes narrowed.

     “You can sleep outside if you prefer it, but you’re all going to need some rest if you’re going to be anything other than a minor inconvenience for the horsemen. Keep going at this rate and Death won’t have to work too hard to find you. You’ll just wind up on one of their handy little lists.”    

     Chad wanted to ask about those lists, but the thought of a bed was all-consuming. “Now that you mention it, I could use a nap.”

     “Come on, Chad.” Joe was pleading. “We can get a motel."

     James pulled Joe aside for a moment. “Excuse us.”

     Chad couldn’t hear a word that was said, but he could tell it was terse. Madeline waited, clicking her shoe on the tiled floor impatiently. “It’s not often someone refuses The Order’s hospitality,” she whispered. There was a coy slyness to it, like she already knew the outcome.

     “Sorry about him,” Chad whispered back.

     Madeline shrugged.

     Chad heard Joe raise his voice, but it died quickly. Not long after, they came back. Joe’s head was bowed low. “We’d love to stay the night if you’ve got room for us,” proclaimed James.

     “That was a fast change of heart.” Madeline looked at the downtrodden priest, thinking over whether she should tread on him further.

     Chad turned to James, bewildered. “What did you say?”

     “He made a simple point.” Defeat was clear in Joe’s voice. “If we want to survive, The Order is the safest place for us to be. He also made the point that the beds are more comfortable than a motel.”

     James spread his hands as if it settled the matter.

     Madeline clapped. “Wonderful. So glad we can help. You’ll be staying in the dormitories. Should be familiar for you, Joe. I think they’ve even got your old room available.” A flicker of sadness ran across Madeline’s face, but she caught it and smoothed it over. “I’ll have Matthew escort you.” She pushed the intercom button and a few seconds later, Matthew practically bounded through the door, ready to serve.

     “How can I help, Mam?”

     No longer distracted by the prospect of booze, Chad actually noticed Matthew this time. He was a young man, maybe late twenties, with light blonde hair, slicked back and parted to the side. Had they been back in Midway, Chad would have been running for the deadbolt for fear of another hour-long lecture on the virtues of Joseph Smith.

     “Please escort these men to the dormitories, Matthew.”

     “Yes, Mam!” he exclaimed. “Follow me gentlemen.” Another stained-glass panel opened and Matthew led them through it.

     Chad turned over his shoulder and called: “Thanks!”

     Madeline lifted her glass in cheers, then the stained-glass door closed behind them. Matthew led them through a series of seemingly endless spiraling hallways. On several occasions, Chad thought they might have been going in circles, but every time he was on the verge of mentioning it, he would spot something new. Eventually, they emerged into a long, stone corridor with numbered oak doors running along either side. Three of the doors were slightly ajar.

     “These will be your accommodations for the evening.” Matthew’s bright, blue eyes sparkled with glee.

     Chad stretched and felt his eyes begin to close. “Thank you,” he managed through a yawn. He was about to step through one of the doors when Matthew put out a polite hand out to stop him.

     “Not a problem, Chad.” He was beaming. “But, before you turn in for the night, I have a warning from ‘The Management’.” He said the last two words in a voice that would have fit telling ghost stories around a campfire. “You are not to leave this room until an escort comes for you in the morning. If the uninitiated are caught roaming the hallways, the consequences can be dire.” Despite the severe warning, Matthew still grinned like an idiot.

     Chad felt heartened knowing he was no longer the simplest person in the room. “Not a problem Matthew.” He remembered the way the snooty man in the lobby had eyed the fireplace and shuddered.

     “Alright, nighty night then!”

     Chad smirked and pushed open his door. “Nighty night Matty. See you in the morning fellas.”

     James stifled a laugh and gave him a small wave. “Get some rest.”

     Chad walked through the door into a small bedroom. Four stone walls greeted him with a stone floor to match. A fluffy green carpet had been thrown down in the middle of the space, presumably to make it feel less like a prison cell. The far wall was adorned with a faux window that had been carved into the stone and painted over. It depicted a medieval landscape stretching out into a starry night. The bed was set into an alcove in one of the walls. Even its meager form was enough to nearly bring Chad to tears.

     On the verge of sleep, Chad headed for the bed, but stopped when he noticed a pile of clothes on a rickety end table. He rifled through them and found a neatly folded pair of blue jeans, grey t-shirt and a non-descript hoodie. On top of the pile was a small note that read: “Probably time to trade in the burlap. -M” Chad had to agree. As he stripped off the sweat-stained bag he had been wearing for clothes, he winced at the smell. They’re going to want to burn that.

     Chad kicked off his slip-on shoes Joe had given him and stood naked, eyeing the bed hungrily. He threw himself at the mattress like a nude torpedo and it enveloped him, making him feel as though he was sleeping on a cloud. He had barely pulled the covers over himself when he drifted off to sleep.

 

At first Chad did not dream, and instead floated in all-enveloping darkness. Here he rested for the first time in days, feeling the tugging anchors of sleep pulling him down to the bottom of an endless black pit. As he fell deeper, a gravelly voice called out to him through the ether.

“I see you, Chad.” The words sent gooseflesh running up his arm. A white, bony hand reached out from the darkness, trying to grip him. He heard the knuckles cracking as the fingers stretched. In the distance, an alarm blared with repetitive insistence.

     “See you soon.” A horrible, grinding laugh echoed through time and space.

     The sound of the alarm grew louder and the darkness flashed a dull red. Chad tried to cover his ears but couldn’t find his hands. Red fire spread out before him in a hellish sea, cascading over itself in foaming tidal waves. A set of pointed red horns rose from beneath the flaming surface, followed by the smooth dome of a head. Two eyes, black and featureless glinted at him, and Chad’s body shook violently.

     “It’s all fair play,” came a sickly-sweet voice, bubbling from beneath the waves.

     Chad woke in a cold sweat, nearly slamming his head on the stone above him. His heart hammered in his chest and he tried to get it under control, sucking in a lungful of air. Apparently, he had been holding his breath, because the oxygen surged through him, bringing sharp lines back to the fuzzy world. He was on the verge of returning to calm when he realized the alarm from his dream was still blaring.

     In the corner of his room, a red light was blinking on and off. From a distant intercom, he heard: “We have been breached, this is not a drill. Everyone take up arms and defend the lobby.” There was a dignified urgency to the voice.

     Chad was processing the words when someone pounded on his door.

     “Chad, get the Hell up, we’re in trouble!” It was Joe’s voice and he sounded scared.

     There was a crashing sound as someone threw themselves at the door with their full weight. The door thudded but didn’t even shudder in its frame. James cursed in pain. “Chad, you need to be up, now, and we need to get the fuck out of here.”

     The panic in their voices was enough to send Chad out of bed like a rocket, his heart still hammering. He pulled on the fresh set of clothes The Order had left him and threw the door open. Outside, most of the lights in the corridor had been turned off except for a deep emergency red. Joe and James both stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.

     “What the fuck is going on?” asked Chad, knowing the answer already.

     “I’m not sure.” Joe was gripping a cross in his hands with white knuckles. “The Order hasn’t been breached in over a hundred years, so whatever it is, it’s bad.”

     James nodded in agreement and pulled out a pistol.

     Logic tried to make its way through Chad’s addled brain, but the dots still weren’t connecting. “Do you have one of those for me?”

     James laughed nervously. “No, Madeline left one for me on the bedside table.”

     Chad scoffed. “All I got were clothes.”

     “Beats the burlap,” pointed out James.

     Chad shrugged in agreement.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a push broom along the way.” He started down the hallway. “Come on, they’ll be mounting a defense in the lobby.”

     Together, the three of them ran through red-lit corridors, headed back the way they had come. As they passed through the hallway of portraits leading to the lobby, Chad felt the eyes of past hunters and wondered if they were silently judging him. As he ran by the portrait of ‘The Great Manchester’, the glass display case beneath it caught his eye. The razor-sharp hand-axe inside glinted again, and once more there were whispers through the ether.

     Without much forethought, he kicked the display case, shattering it. Shards of glass fell to the floor, exposing the weapon. James and Joe stopped to look and see what had happened.

     “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” James screamed, his voice cracking. “If they find out, you’re a dead man for sure!”

     Chad ignored the warning, figuring he was going to be a dead man anyway if he didn’t find a weapon. He wrapped his fingers around the leather handle of the axe and removed it from the remnants of the display case. Even in the still air, a bitter wind blew across the back of his neck, and he felt the axe’s weight against his arm. Somewhere in the distance, there was a high, cold laugh, but he pushed it from his brain and brandished the axe.

     James looked up at the picture and back down to the axe.

     Joe’s face was white with terror.

     “What?” Chad flexed his hand around the grip. “They said ‘to arms’.”

     James shook his head. “You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”

     “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” It was sad, but true. Chad swung the axe in an experimental arc and something about it felt right. “Now, let’s defend the lobby, shall we?”