The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World (17 page)

A…
person
?

It was shaped like a human. Tall. Bob couldn’t tell if it had legs, because it wore a long, flowing black shroud. Its face and hands were milk-white, and its eyes and mouth were black, empty holes.

“Robert Lewis of Earth, early Twenty-First Century?” Its voice was like an echo with no sound at first. The lips did not move.

Bob tried to speak, and found he couldn’t. All he managed was a strangled sigh.

“That is a yes?”

Bob nodded.

“And on your Earth, were the dead coming back to life, possessed by a race of beings known as the Siqqusim?”

“Um…” Bob shrugged.

The creature took a step backward, and though Bob heard its footsteps ring out on the stone floor, he realized that it was actually floating several inches above it.

He swallowed.
So what’s making the footstep
sound?

“Yes or no, Mr. Lewis?”

Bob nodded again.

“Does the term ‘Hamelin’s Revenge’ mean anything to you?”

Frowning, Bob shook his head. It didn’t ring any bells.

The thing smiled. “Good. Then I have obtained the right version of you. Welcome to the Labyrinth. You were expecting Heaven, and you may see it yet. But there is something you must do before you pass on. Follow me.”

The creature rotated in mid-air, floating towards the door.

Bob finally worked up enough saliva to shout, “Hey!”

His companion turned. “Yes?”

“What is this? Who are you?”

“This is nowhere and everywhere. This is the inbetween—the black space amidst the stars, the backdoor of reality. As for me, do I not look familiar?”

Bob considered this. The being did look familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I get the feeling I’ve met you before.”

“You have. All of you have. In your dreams.”

A sense of relief washed over Bob, and his posture slackened. “That’s it! I’m dreaming. I’m still back in Aurora, and the Earth didn’t burn up!”

The other floated out the doorway. “No, I’m afraid your Earth was incinerated, as were countless other Earths, by the Teraphim.”

“W-who?”

“The three brothers: Ob of the Siqqusim, Ab of the Elilum, and Api of the Teraphim.”

“This is a dream,” Bob replied, “so it’s okay if I don’t understand a thing you just said, right?”

“It matters not.” The creature led him down a long staircase, which led to another door.

“We now enter the Labyrinth,” the mime-thing said.Bob followed his companion through a confusing, maze-like series of hallways with closed doors on all sides. They seemed to walk for a long time.

“Where are we going?”

“You are going to a different Earth. Your father played in a musical duo. Lewis and Walker, correct?”

“Yeah, but how—?”

“That is what this incarnation of Kevin Jensen is listening to right now. He has just buried his friend. Tomorrow, he will attempt to rescue other friends from a cult. It has gone disastrously wrong infinite times before. We are sending you in to tip the balance.”

“Can I wake up now?”

The thing ignored him. “You must obtain the cult’s copy of the
Daemonolateria
. Use it to stop Leviathan and Behemoth, and to halt the rains.”

Bob stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Look. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about. You’re not making any fucking sense!”

The creature whirled around, and its voice boomed inside his head.

“THE THIRTEEN HAVE BEEN LOOSED ACROSS TIME AND SPACE. ALL EARTHS, ALL PLANETS, INDEED—THE VERY FABRIC OF EXISTENCE IS THREATENED. REALITIES ARE COLLAPSING IN ON ONE ANOTHER. DEATH IS LIFE AND LIFE IS DEATH. ALL ARE IN DANGER OF BECOMING NOTHING. YOU WILL DO THIS, OR YOU WILL BE LEFT HERE TO WANDER FOR ALL ETERNITY!”

Bob fell to his knees and clutched the sides of his head. It hurt. The voice physically and mentally hurt.

“Please,” he sobbed, curling into a ball. “I don’t understand. I just want my old life back.”

The creature hovered over him. When it spoke again, its voice was softer.

“Your old life is gone, devoured by the Siqqusim, Elilum, and Teraphim.”

“The zombies?”

“Indeed. The first group is led by Ob. He, along with his brothers, is one of thirteen beings that existed long before the Morningstar’s fall. Your kind named them demons without truly understanding what they were. There are thirteen total. Meeble and Kat and Shtar, Behemoth and Leviathan and Kandara, Nodens and Purturabo…”

Bob interrupted the litany of names. “What does this have to do with me?”

“There are other worlds than the one you came from…other planets and other Earths. The Thirteen were scattered across the realities and planes of existence. The Siqqusim have been released from one such dimension, a place called the Void. Ob intends to gather the other Thirteen, building an army, and declare war on Heaven itself.”

“So there really is a God?”

“Yes, but humanity has always misunderstood His existence. Perhaps, if you succeed, you will stand in His presence and understand for yourself.”

Bob stood up. “What do I have to do?”

“Go through this door.” The creature opened one of the countless doors. Bob heard the soft hiss of rain. “Seek out a young man named Kevin Jensen. Accompany him when he goes to rescue his friends. There is a book called the
Daemonolateria
. Do not let it be destroyed this time. Use it to undo what has been done in that reality.”

“How do I get back here?”

“The Labyrinth has many doors. You will find one when you are ready.”

Swallowing hard, Bob stepped through the doorway. He found himself standing on the roof of a hotel, surrounded on all sides by water. When he turned around, the doorway closed behind him, vanishing into thin air.

* * *

STORY NOTES FROM THE END OF THE WORLD

And so, once again, we close the curtain on the world of
The Rising
. This is the fourth excursion into that nightmare:
The Rising
,
The Rising: Necrophobia
,
City of the Dead
, and now the volume you’ve just read. Will there be another? I’m not telling—yet. Suffice it to say, the Labyrinth has many doors, and you never know what’s waiting behind the next one. Like Ob said in
The Rising
and Reverend Martin repeated in
City of the Dead
; there are other worlds than these.

I do know this; when I started this project, I was worried that I’d burn out. Like I said in the introduction, this wasn’t a book that I wanted to write. I wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as I’ve been past books. Figured I’d said all I had to say about the Siqqusim, and wondered where I’d find the inspiration to revisit them again. But I’m very happy to report that never happened—the inspiration was still there. As I prepared for each story, and spoke with the individual it was being written for, I found more and more things to write about. And even when I finished the last story, I still had more ideas. I got excited again.

So, no—I might not be done with this world yet. We’ll both just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, if you’re interested, here are some little tidbits about each tale and where it came from and where it was written. If you’re not curious about that sort of thing, you can close the book now and be assured that you didn’t miss anything. But if you’re the type who likes to know how the magician did his trick, here’s how I pulled these particular rabbits from their hats.

A note on the stories: many of the characters in these tales are real people. Their stories appeared in an earlier, pricey, collector’s edition. Each of them paid Delirium Books for the privilege, but in truth, the privilege was actually all mine. I think these are some of the best short stories of my career, and the reason for that is because of the people I wrote about. So thanks to all who participated. In addition to real people, you’ll also see some familiar fictional characters from The Rising mythos. More on that below…

* * *

“Don’s Last Mosh”

This was written at home, in my office, over the space of two hours. Finished the second and final draft the next day. Don’s a big guy, and he likes heavy metal. When I met him in person (at the 2004 Horrorfind Weekend convention in Baltimore), my first thought was, “Jesus, I’d hate to be in a mosh pit with this guy.” Obviously, the story came from that. Don is the brain behind Necessary Evil Press (a fine small press publisher), thus the name of the band he was going to see in the story. Long-time readers may also catch a brief reference in this story to “Caught In A Mosh,” an earlier short story of mine.

“Family Reunion”

This was also written at home, in my office, over two days, when I needed a break from working on
The Conqueror Worms
. When Terry gave me his background so that I could craft the story, he told me a lot about his family. Families were something I’d wanted to explore more in relation to the zombies (other than Jim and Danny from the novels, obviously), so this was the perfect opportunity. If you look closely, you’ll find references to events mentioned in
The Rising
, and “Don’s Last Mosh.”

“As Above (Sisters, Part One)”

“So Below (Sisters, Part Two)”

These are the first of a pair of two-part stories (the second pair being “Walkabout” Parts 1 and 2). These two stories were written at home, in my office, over a very long week. When Roman told me the stories were for his daughters, it immediately presented a challenge, and at first, I wasn’t sure what to do. See, I have no problem gleefully killing off your spouses and partners and extended family members in these stories. I’ll even slaughter your beloved pets. But your children? Nope. Can’t do it. I don’t mess with kids (if you think about it, I didn’t even truly mess with Danny in the novels). So what to write about? After several failed drafts, I had Roman ask his daughters what they’d do if the zombies invaded. These stories were their reply. Smart, tough kids—so all you zombies better beware.

“Last Chance For La Chance”

This was written at home, in my office; three drafts in three hours. A long time ago, the first draft of
The Rising
had a scene in which Frankie goes to the Baltimore-Washington International airport (after her escape from the zoo). The whole segment slowed the plot down, so I cut it. But the idea—I loved the idea. When Jamie told me I could place the story anywhere in the U.S., I was happy, because I finally got a chance to re-write that scene. Oh, and in this story, when Jamie decides to go to a friend’s house in Cockeysville? In real life, that’s my old apartment.

“Watching The World End”

I figured that by the sixth day of dead folks getting back up and eating the living, some people would start to lose their sanity. Unfortunately for William, he was my first victim. This was written in a posh hotel room at the Ritz-Carlton in Philadelphia, during a rainy afternoon. I like the story much better than I liked the hotel. If you were paying attention, you’ll notice several references to events from
The Rising
and one from “Last Chance For La Chance.”

“The Fall Of Rome”

The first draft of this story was written during the World Horror Convention 2005 in New York City. At the time, I was hiding out in my hotel room because every time I went downstairs for a beer, people mobbed me. The second and final drafts were written in my backyard, under the stars one night, while listening to Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” (thus the usage in the story). Several months after writing this story, I met Eddie at Hypericon, a convention in Nashville. He said that I got the sniper part right. I said that was good. And then we partied till dawn, and bore witness to an orgy whose participants were dressed like Klingons and Jedi Knights. So there’s that.

“Walkabout Parts 1 and 2”

These are the second pair of two-part stories (the others being “As Above” and “So Below”). The first part was written in my office at home, and the second was started there and completed just before I went to the World Horror Convention in New York City (I finished it while riding in a car with authors John Skipp, Steven Shrewsbury, and James Sneddon). I bring this up because it was at WHC that I met Leigh and Penny—and was very pleased to learn that I’d pretty much gotten them right. If you look closely, you’ll find a reference to events from
The Rising: Necrophobia
(specifically, Brett McBean’s wonderful story, “The Beautiful Place,” which also took place in Australia).

“Hellhounds On My Trail”

When
The Rising
came out, my friend and fellow author Tim Lebbon gave me hell for not showing what was happening in England. Luckily, since Jason wanted his story to take place there, I finally had an opportunity to fix that. Even better—Jason is a big fan of the Blues, as am I. I love the Robert Johnson mythos, and his line about the hellhounds on his trail never, ever fails to give me chills. I was glad to work it into the story. I wrote this late one night in a hotel room in New York City during the World Horror Convention, while fellow authors John Skipp, Bev Vincent, and Steven L. Shrewsbury snored in the background.

“Spoilers”

This was written over a weekend in my backyard. Plenty of sunshine, ice tea, and bug spray. I actually had the basic idea long before I started work on this collection. The Siqqusim’s knowledge of our race is obtained only through the memories and experiences of their hosts. But they are curious to know more, even as they exterminate us. When Mike told me he was a big movie fan and bibliophile, I knew what I wanted to do. Alert readers will notice a tie-in to my novel
The Rutting Season
(and my now infamous alter-ego, Adam Senft). There is a reason for all these non-Rising tie-ins, but I’m not going to tell you what it is—yet.

“The Man Comes Around”

I wrote an early draft of this in hotel rooms across Tennessee and Kentucky, while on a book signing tour for
City of the Dead
and
Terminal
. The original story was called “Beer Run” and it sucked really badly. I mean really, really bad. So I scrapped it and wrote this version during a break in the tour, on the Fourth of July, while my wife was watching a
Twilight Zone
marathon. The title is from one of my favorite Johnny Cash songs. This is the first of three stories in this volume that deal with General Dunbar, a minor character from
The Rising
that I always wanted to do more with (the other two stories are “Where The Down Boys Go” and “Through The Glass Darkly”).