Chadpocalypse - 3:12 The Final Countdown

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to get new floorboards down here?” moaned The Devil. “And now I’ve got to stare at that ugly looking thing for weeks.” He pointed a limp finger at the now smoldering circle where the angels had fallen. Etched into the floorboards, still trailing wisps of holy light, was an image of Christ giving a double thumbs up.

“You did invite us here,” reminded Jordan, stepping off the signet. “We were perfectly content to watch from our, what did you call it? Prayer-ridden cloud.”

“How’s heaven?” asked Chad, ignoring the niceties The Devil and Jordan were exchanging.

“I’ll tell you about it some other time.” Joe waked over and clapped him on the shoulder. “What matters is, I’m alright, and you’re going to be alright too. Play this game like you were born for it so we can all go home.”

“I’m not sure I can beat him. The score’s tied.” Chad wasn’t used to so many people depending on him and the idea made him nauseous.

“Let me remind you, they picked you because they thought you were the last person on Earth who could stop them.”

“Not helping,” muttered Chad.

“No, you’re not getting it.” Joe’s voice took on a familiar, lecturing quality. It was strange to see him giving a sermon without his dark robes, but the bright, white linens suited him. It helped that his wings flexed out behind him, completing the biblical image. “Look how far you’ve made it.” He swept an arm around the room for evidence. “You’re standing in The Devil’s study.” Joe laughed as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“But we’re only here because I failed. Death killed all three of us.”

Joe waved a hand dismissively. “He may have taken your body, but you’re still here, fighting. You are one step away from stopping this calamity for good, and all it involves is winning at a stupid party game.” Joe looked at the boards, bemused. “Never thought the fate of the world would be determined over something like this, but here we are.” He smiled, and there was so much warmth in it that Chad had to stop himself from tears.

“It’s really good to see you again, Joe.”

“Likewise.”

“Alright, that’s enough with the pep talks.” The Devil sidled up to Joe and put an arm on his shoulder.

Joe brushed him away.

The Devil snorted with condescending laughter. “You’re not too good for me down here, angel, mark that.”

“Lucky for me, I don’t have to be. Just him.” Joe pointed to Chad.

The Devil snarled. “I’m glad you’re here to watch your champion go down in flames. Nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing an angel’s faith finally fail them.”

“A true angel’s faith never fails.” Joe sounded like he had been one for years. “Only the fallen ones like yourself, Lucifer.”

The Devil locked eyes with Joe and Chad could feel the naked fury there. “Score!” yelled The Devil.

“Nine to Nine, Chad led in the last round, so he throws first,” replied Death.

“May heaven be on your side.” Joe touched Chad’s forehead.

The Devil hissed at the sound of the word and a sudden idea occurred to Chad. Before Joe had a chance to get to the sidelines, Chad walked up and threw a bag, sinking it in the hole without incident.

“There’s the wonder kid we all knew was in there,” shouted James from the sidelines. All he needed was a bag of peanuts and he might as well have been at a baseball game.

Joe walked over and put a hand on his shoulder telling him to quiet down. James did so reluctantly.

The Devil walked up and picked up a bag of his own, tossing it and sinking it through the hole with ease. More of the same followed for the next throw, with each of them scoring an additional three points. On his third bag, Chad hardly had to try. He was dialed in and it flew through the air like it too was on a mission from God.

The Devil wound up to make his third throw and Chad put his plan into motion.

Waiting until the bag was about to leave his clawed fingers, Chad muttered: “Christ” under his breath.

Smoke shot from The Devil’s nose and he shouted: “Fuck!” The bag went wide, missing the board entirely.

“No need for such language,” chided Jordan.

“We’re in Hell, nitwit. This is my domain and I will curse if I want to.” Smoke continued to rise from his nostrils and he shot Chad a glare.

Before he had a chance to say anything else, Chad walked up and threw his fourth and final bag. There was a divine providence to his arm as he wound up and released. It was the most perfect throw he had ever made. The bag hardly even whispered as it fell through the hole. “If I’m correct, that puts me at fifteen.” He backed away from the board, ready to watch The Devil make his final shot.

“If I’m correct, that puts me at fifteen,” mocked The Devil. “Well, I’ve still got one more bag.”

“Be my guest.” Chad put a hand out toward the boards. “Make your shot, and let’s get this whole thing over with.”

The Devil’s body shook with anger, Chad could see it, he was off his game. He held the bag in his right hand for some time and before Chad even had time to speak, overhand threw it at the board. It flew with astonishing speed, nearly catching fire as it went, and flew through the hole without making a sound. The bag hit the floor on the other side and left a blazing red trail on the hardwood. The Devil held his hand up and blew smoke off it. “Sorry, I was just getting warmed up, and if you try that cough shit again, you’re going to be throwing with one less arm.”

Chad’s heart leapt into his chest.

“That’s right asshole, I heard it just fine.”

Chad looked to Joe who merely smiled, still confident as ever. “Must have had something in my throat.”

“Keep your sense of humor, you’re going to need it where you’re going. Grab your bags, let’s finish this.”

“Score is twelve to nine, Chad’s favor,” called out James. “Make this the last round and you and I can go grab a pint back in Midway.”

A pint sounded like just what the doctor had ordered after the ordeal Chad had been through. “Alright fine, I’ll put an end to this.”

But the game did not finish in the next round, or the round after that even. There were a few occasions when one or the other would pick up a point, but mostly the game dragged on in a series of ties. Chad felt the back of his throat drying out from the exertion. At one point, he the room swam before him and he nearly passed out. It was during that round, The Devil scored his fourteenth point, bringing them back to a tie.

Chad could hardly stoop to pick up the bags. He wasn’t sure how long they had been playing for, but it felt like hours. Judging from the slumped figures occupying the judge’s chairs, that was about on the mark. Somehow, the angels still stood, prim and proper as the moment they had beamed in. Chad felt a flicker of anger toward their divinity but banished it to focus on the game.

He licked his lips. It had been so long since he had water, and the world was beginning to take on a very hazy quality. “What happens if I die of dehydration?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“You forfeit the match.” The grin and confidence were back across The Devil’s face. He walked to his desk, pulled out a crisp, cold bottle of water and downed the whole thing in one gulp. “I could get you one of these if you’re willing to give up your friends soul.” The Devil pulled out another bottle of water and held it out.

Chad did consider it. The bottle might as well have been an oasis, and he had been in the desert for days. “No, thank you, I feel fine.” Chad put his hands on his knees, trying to stay upright while The Devil drank both bottles. Not a single droplet fell from the bastard’s red lips, and Chad was glad for it. If it had, he might have tried to suck the precious liquid right off the floor, and he had no desire to find out what that would taste like.

“This has to be some form of cheating, right?” asked Chad, nearly choking on the dryness of his own throat.

“Not if you read the terms and conditions scroll you signed.”

Chad cursed Mrs. B for not outlining that little stipulation.

“It clearly states: ‘Any death not caused by the minions or leaders of Hell directly will result in soul forfeiture.’” The Devil snapped his fingers and the scroll appeared. “It’s right here in the sec—”

Chad took a deep breath and gave him the finger.

“Now, that’s just rude.”

“So is a delay of game.” Chad pushed his way to a stand, working with every breath to maintain balance. He looked around the room, trying to stop it from spinning and locked eyes with Jordan. The angel winked at him, and there was the sensation that Chad’s entire body had been drenched in ice water. The room popped into focus all at once and he staggered backward.

Chad flexed his hand experimentally and found that he felt the strongest he had in days. It was as if all the deaths had been washed away from his body in an instant, leaving only the clear, cool reason of life. “I believe it’s your serve.” Chad intentionally slurred his words, not wanting The Devil to catch on.

“Yes, I believe it is. You know, I feel a little bad about all this. I’ll make sure to get you some water in a hundred years or so, as a sign of good faith.” The Devil threw his first bag, landing it on the board. “I believe that puts me at fifteen again.”

Chad stumbled up to throw and tossed the bag, hard. It careened through the air like a drunken acrobat and hit The Devil’s bag head on, knocking it to the floor.

If The Devil was angry, he didn’t show it. Instead, he stepped up and knocked Chad’s bag off the board, once again leaving himself with the game-winning position.

Chad intentionally whiffed his third shot, missing the board by mere inches. “Damnit!” he cried, falling to the floor and beating his hands against the wood, really making a meal of it.

“That’s just poor sportsmanship.” The Devil threw his last bag lazily, purposefully landing short, leaving one bag on the board. “Better make this last shot count, boy, or this world’s going to come crashing down on you real fast.”

Chad opened one eye from his pretend anguish and looked at the board. “Ah jeez,” he said. “No way I could make a shot like that, right?” Chad picked up a bag and slung it forward like a throwing knife. It turned end over end and struck The Devil’s bag hard, sending it skittering off the edge.

Chad’s bag continued to tumble forward, nearing the edge and he winced, hoping he had not overdone it. There was a heartbreaking moment where it looked like the bag might fall off, but it stopped, standing almost straight up, at the back of the board.

The room was silent, and then James yelled: “That’s the game!”