Текст книги "Infernus"

Автор книги: Mike Jones

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CHAPTER THREE

“FALLEN LEAVES ARE ALREADY DEAD”

The young, baking Spanish woman ran wildly through the crowd of frying, milling villagers. The demon and his trainee watched from a hill that leaned over the village. The woman flailed her arms as she screamed into all the brains of Infernus.

“Don’t you see, my many relatives, this man you thinkis the killer, whose name we cannot speak, is allowing you to feed your inability to see the truth. Lo, the sun sinks. I must work my mischief. You are all doomed. You’ve known all along. I will now express myself.”

She spread her arms high toward the blazing crimson sun. All the villagers fell to the ground like paper kites with no wind and disintegrated. She fell as well, and scattered harmlessly behind them.

CHAPTER FOUR

“LESSONS TO LEARN”

Red, radiant in sweat and erotically glorious, spoke bile into the man’s mind. “My son, approach me.” His phallus was erect and stood straight along his heat-stretched jawbone.

The man, who no longer was the man he had been many thousands of centuries ago, walked in a regal fashion to his father.

“Lick the hair that is on top of my feet, slave.”

And he did, for three million generations’ worth of time. It has been said by some demon lords that soon (again the reference to time) there will be an inability to communicate anything in such concepts. These sayings must not be said in the first person or punishments will follow. For even thinking them.

In a standard generation (what the man is experiencing at this “moment”) the demon is describing (for the man) three sets of a dozen little plays called collectively The Writhings. He performed them upon a surface of the man’s skin for many millennia. The plays enabled all to feel the pain at once. It was exquisite.

ONE LESSON

A woman, who was skinless, asked Red and the man if they knew where The Domes of Wares could be found.

She bled while standing there.

They ignored her, for she was full of foolish talk.

“Ah,” said the demon. “Watch these large black stones slam hard on the rock. I shall now cover myself like a blanket.” A great viscous liquid exploded into his beard and continued flowing until his whole body was lost in the glue of it.

The man walked over to his father and began licking as an animal will when it wants to remove afterbirth from its young.

“For doing that service,” the demon said, “I will grant you a present. Feast from the part of my body of your choice. I will let you eat me.”

The man, who was now one with Red, pulled a large dark foot into his lap. With effort, he drew it to his lips. The toe pushed past his ragged gums and shattered teeth. He tasted the dry saltiness of the digit before he began to gnash through it. Red gasped, but else, said naught.

The man moaned as he sucked the blood through the wound. He swallowed the toe and it fell, hissing, into his empty stomach. He loved his master even more.

“My son,” the demon began, with blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Now we are one, and ever will be for eternity. My love to you.”

As the man heard these words echoing through the flames, he realized that Red was digging into his once-human flesh with a burning metal scoop. Great round balls of cooked meat were being brought forth from his hips to the lips of the other.

ANOTHER LESSON

“Water sports, my son,” the monster belched. “Now that I have wet you down thoroughly, come and enclose your father’s ass with your mouth.” The man did as his lord dictated. “I will fill your guts with the eternal stench of my gases.”

And he did. He consummated the marriage of their souls by filling his son with the gases of his bowels. The man’s head caught fire as a result. He fell unconscious to the blazing floor and remained that way for one thousand years.

And even though the demon dared to sodomize the man hundreds of thousands of times, nothing could be done to rouse him.

A THIRD LESSON (BUT BY NO MEANS A FINALLESSON)

With an absolute lack of expression on his stone face, the demon grabbed the man’s hair at the back of his head and drew him close. Red’s poisoned tongue played over the man’s face.

“My son, I want to teach you another lesson. This one thing I know – you must crawl to me on your hands and knees in profound humility.”

The man looked at his body as it obeyed and noticed that it was the same as that of the burned bodybuilder he had seen earlier (only a moment ago and realized… ).

Later, after he had taken all Red had to offer, the demon said, “Anytime I want you to do anything – anything at all – you will do it, at once. This is my total and singular commandment. Obey me in love, my son. Or fear!”

* * *

If truer eyes could pierce the deceptive veil for even a moment, they would have seen two smoldering corpses lying at the bottom of a blackened, mile-deep shaft. One body, shivering uncontrollably in its nightmare-soaked sleep, was of a large, muscular man in his late thirties. The other, who had been there first and joined later by the other, looked to be the quaking body of a slim, red-haired youth, no more than fifteen or sixteen. But, there wasno light there, no one couldsee them, nor could theysee each other. They were eternally sleeping, unable to awaken or end this dream. They were both quite incapable of telling anything to anyone. Their true desires were unfulfilled; they wanted to stop this programmed dream. If that were only possible. That would almostbe bearable.

* * *

“Rub my back, my son, and try to pass your hand through my blood-soaked pelt.” The demon turned his back. “See how your hand catches the ripples of flame.” Red raised his living lower member to the man’s lips and commanded him (in darkness) to lick the pus out of the green-foamed slit.

The man obeyed. The demon folded his crispy wings around both of them and became extremely violent within these confines. There were long sounds of ripping, and organs splattered on the rocky floor. There was a gunfire sound and the crackling of large bones breaking.

There was a grateful spirit hovering nearby; it was singing in a continual scream.

CHAPTER FIVE

“AN OMITTED SECTION”

[Now follows a descriptionof an omitted section:]

The reason for this omission seems to be that this chapter is what is known as “The Untranslatable, Unspeakable Topic.”

The entire chapter seems to be thirteen poems that “prove” (to any mere mortal) the non-existence of God.

It is said to have been deliberately misplaced because it resulted in the deaths or suicides of the five people who read it. It was omitted after the first printing of this “fiction” was distributed to the public. The publisher, because of threats and lawsuits, saw fit to “lose it.”

Lord Jedfrie, in the only book he ever published, stated that three living persons knew of its whereabouts, but nothing on Earth could force these women to reveal its location.

“Even the meter of the lines being read aloud permanently damagedthe minds of anyone listening,” wrote Lucy Karpe, M.D. “It was all screaming and ranting from the dead!”

CHAPTER SIX

“ESOPHAGUS”

Blood ran in ever-widening rivers down the man’s legs as he passively allowed the demon to pound him three million times from behind.

Red never tried to stop and the man never ceased feeling every fresh painful thrust as if it were the first. However, the inexplicable horror was knowing that it would never end.

To be the eternal victim was more than meremortals could stand. But these were not mere mortals. They were shaped into supernatural beings, who were allowed to continue in a perpetual state of death with indestructible bodies.

They could withstand the combined torture of all (ex-) humanity for three billion infinities and yet reconstruct the body in moments.

The tearing sounds coming from his own body did not concern the man; it would go on being broken over and over.

That which never heals is this body, and yet cannot be destroyed.

* * *

“I must ram my massive arm down your throat, my son, and tear your esophagus to ribbons with my claws.”

As has been explained earlier, all mouths are permanently fixed open in a continual scream that is so loud that the flesh of all faces vibrates all the time. It is not horrible to those who are here – it is normal. Through disuse, the lips of all are long and flap nerveless like a flag of despair in an unholy burning wind.

Red thrust his forearm down the man’s bleeding throat and began ripping cords and arteries with his sharp, blood-crusted claws. The man could feel the hand’s thick matted hair brushing his gullet deep down. The man loved it and wanted it to continue forever. It only went on for [a third set of turns of time].

When Red slowly pulled his arm out of the man’s throat, it was dripping with yellow mucus. The demon slung it to the ground and rubbed the rest into the black fur below his belly button.

* * *

Green flame danced all over the man’s body, first one place, then another. He didn’t seem to notice. He stooped to walk through the archway, his path predetermined. He headed forward, for there was no way to go back. He knewwhat was back there. In the distance, he heard his father call him. He carefully chose his steps through the dark hall.

As he came out on the other side, he saw Red standing perfectly still, staring at a figure of a man, its feet crudely (one might say rudely) nailed to a pedestal. It was baked red as clay in a kiln. Red’s right shoulder was low from leaning on the burning floor with his fist, and it sizzled. The stance reminded the son of the way a gorilla might pose in a zoo. The father casually looked his way.

“Come here, my son.”

The animated figure was pointing in the distance with its left arm and tirelessly plunging a knife into its chest, over and over again.

“What’s this?” the man asked.

The massive demon drew him nearer with a thick forearm around his neck. He nuzzled his throat with his mouth, searching the man’s Adam’s apple and ear. The man could feel Red’s hot breath.

The demon whispered into his ear. “See the plaque on the base of the pedestal? Yes? Always answer me when I ask you a question, or you couldbe feasting on your own testicles soon. Or, worse yet, force-fed mine. Now, what does the plaque say?”

The man squinted as he approached the animated statue, and then looked at the plaque nailed there. “It says, ‘Man’s Best. Man’s Best…’ What? ‘Friend’?”

“No,” Red replied. “ Thisis the best that man can do.”

The figure opened its mouth and spoke. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you.”

It kept its left arm locked outward, pointing toward its unseen enemy. It always plunged the knife, gripped tightly in its right hand, down into its chest, over and over again with malicious intent, and snickered. Red spray splattered them and they heard bone scraping beneath the knife. The son vomited onto the steaming floor; the smell was indescribable.

“This!” exclaimed the son. “ Thisis the best that man has to offer?”

“That’s right,” Red said, following it with a deep laugh.

The man sighed. “We’re screwed. Poor statue. Thanks for reminding us of how doomedwe all are.”

“It’s not a statue,” the father replied calmly, then laughed at the shock on his son’s tormented face.

The giant demon took the man, coupling with him in a nearby, pitch-black corridor.

* * *

Most of the students, by now, were somewhat used to his gross narration, and sat quietly. One pupil asked to be let out of the class, permanently, and promptly reported the professor and the nude model to the dean of the university. But it came to nothing, for there really were laws in place that gave people the right to say anything they wished.

However, in the following week, when he returned to read chapter seven, the old man was challenged again, and quite unkindly.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“LEGS”

“Son, do you see the hair on my thighs?”

The man said that he did.

“Find the hair that puckers around my hole and moisten it with the tip of your tongue.” Red pulled the man’s hair until his head was between his legs. “Get under there and do your service to your father.”

The man searched through the endless blood-matted hair. He was sure that he found a bit of wet flesh (that did not belong to the demon) lingering among the copious volumes of strands. He found the leaking hole and lovingly daubed it with his tongue. In this warm nest, he lingered for a billion times.

* * *

“My son, take this pus cup I present to you and drink it.”

The man took the cup and drank the hot contents in one gulp. He licked his lips.

“My son,” Red said with love quivering in his voice, “approach me.”

The man drew near to his father.

“You will now become a part of me for exactly one million generations.” Red drew the man to his muscled chest, and continued to pull him closer. The man cracked and flattened until he was the thickness of paper. He faded as he was absorbed into the demon’s body.

“ Now… we will tour the park.”

* * *

The narrative must repeat itself concerning dialogue. No such thing happens at all. In a body that far outstrips human abilities, vocalization is unnecessary. The hundreds of things the body can communicate by the merest movement are astounding.

The only thing that can be done is scream (the base unit of existence). And since no one can die or grow older, it is the Eternal Base Unit. The demon could not express itself in an elegant manner, for such things require reflection and ruminating over matters, and no such thing can occur here. It is only my own narrative device. The thoughts are just there, hanging in space like raw wounds – pay attention or not; they will occur as he proclaimed them. Nothing can prevent this torment from one so high on the Order’s ladder. (And unless I am very much mistaken, my copyist, you must continue to write this until it is finished, bastardly task that it may be! [2]2
  This concept of the book being dictated is also explained in the appendix.


[Закрыть])

* * *

“We cannot proceed past the limits of my park. You must always remember this. I am the prince of this park.”

The man and demon (who were now one) came to a tree where two men writhed as one.

“See this, my son, and know what this scene is.”

The man looked out of the demon’s eyes. He saw a man bent over at the waist due to the weight on his back. A full-grown man was welded to him, joined back-to-stomach, and he was always in the penetration position. He never stopped pounding him from behind.

“In life, my son,” Red said, “the man had an uncanny fear of being raped.” The demon looked at the man lovingly and they both wept at the idea of anyone fearing such loving attention. Great red teardrops fell on the man’s uplifted face as he gazed adoringly at his father’s caring visage. “But, as usual, he was only remembering his future. For here it is the only thing that he will ever experience. It is the only place he has ever been.”

When the man looked again from the demon’s eyes, he saw the man beneath the tree, the one being pounded from behind. The eyes of this one were registering unnamable terror, and after seeing the man inside the demon, they widened further.

The thought splattered like acid in the man’s decaying brain. “Others see my humiliation, and they are much entertained!”

“Yes,” thought the man, his anger burning equally hot, “unless you are me in a thousand generations.”

“We are all one, my son,” the demon said. “When you learn that secret, thankfully, your threshold of pain will be awarded an increase of three greatness levels. Then, the Eternal Baptism will be yours: for your scream will widen and your skull will crack – and that is the baptism known as ‘The Mark of His Father.’

“My son, I must show you another dream. Even though you are deep inside me, I will lean over this precipice and you tell me what you see.”

When Red leaned over the edge, the son saw a barrel at the bottom. But what was most interesting about it was that it was not still…

“Inside the barrel is what looks like molasses or oil. I can barely see something brown and wet, churning and churning; never stopping.”

“See this woman being lowered into the barrel by a long chain, connected to a hook that is buried deep in her neck? Yes, above us. Well, let me tell you about a dream she has over and over in this place. Every few [times] here, she is pulled out and then she is lowered again to suffer [many million infinities]. When she is not in the barrel, she has a very foolish dream. Would you like me to tell you so you can laugh and laugh many times?”

“Yes, oh Father, I would love it.”

“Well, look in this churning barrel and despair, because when she has a respite from it, and she is burning in this fire, she dreams of another world, quite limp and unconscious; I assure you. A hideous world, but not as hideous as this world, of course. She dreams she is a young girl and has a child thingand puts it in a garbage dumpster, and that is the end of that. But sadly, in that world, the child thingwas not alone, for the dumpster had a few permanent residents. Big, juicy rats. The mother did not know this, for she had left there, and went to meet a boyfriend, and they had a wonderful lunch at a restaurant. She did not know. She could not hear the screams, or know the terror of that baby as it was bitten to death and devoured by those sharp teeth. But now she continues to dream the same dream. Now do you know what churns in the barrel? That it is not molasses or oil, but the oily pelts of hundreds of rats as they gnaw and chew her repeatedly. How horrible it must be for her.”

And, indeed, they laughed for a few lifetimes at the sight of her, as she was lowered into the barrel, red spit slinging hungrily, and snapping white bone shined and churned and disappeared beneath the surface.

* * *

“Now this clearly is a breach of protocol!” a young female student stood and cried, giving no one else an opportunity to speak.

“Why is that?” he said simply, knowing full well what she was going to complain about. He had heard this before.

Her face was crimson. “Abortion is absolutely legal in our State. You are breaching protocol and common sense by condemning it!”

“If you had been listening, Student, you might have noticed that this was a live birth the dear woman trashed, notan abortion. I think maybe you can put away your Lectro-Current magazine and listen more closely next time, especially since you pretend to know so much.”

“I can see why so many people despise you.”

“You don’t know the halfof it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“MORE LEGS IN THE PARK”

A woman was there when they had walked farther through great expanses of burning yards. She was barely visible beneath 17,000 layers of flame. She jittered and jerked, but could not free herself.

“I don’t know why she is here. I come because I love the memories of this light. Long, long before Bjorn blew across the night and threw out the Milky Way, I used to come here to dance at her light. I was new to her perfume then. I am her old flame now.”

The demon’s fathomless sockets gazed on her golden lights and he nearly loved again.

A PARENTHETICAL EPISODE

The demon walked and the man watched everything through his hot black holes.

“Look at this, my son. This exhibit is known in The Annals of Cruelty as ‘A Demon’s Abomination.’ There are a few things that even we cannot gaze at for long.”

A wasted man lay spread-eagled on the ground, facedown. Above him, pounding him with an enormous member, was another man. As the two bodies met, fifteen blades pierced them through. They writhed as they continued, unable to stop.

It cannot be truthfully said they were screaming, because with all that exists here, “The Scream” is The Base Unit. The Primary Law: “Nothing Ever Stops Screaming!”

“Can you tell, my son, which of them owns the blades that pierce the corpse of the other?”

“No,” he whispered in the demon’s head.

Red burst out laughing. “Neither can they.” He laughed for many times. “They will go on, blessedly, throughout eternity, in the heat, in the flames, in ‘The Burning,’ never ceasing in their stride. No horror can equal this. No mere man or demon can even imagine this, let alone look at it for long.”

It only increases in horror, thought the man, if you continue to think about it, which I choose not to do.

That’s true, thought the demon.

I will come out of you now, thought the man, and kiss your feet, Father.

Then it is done, thought the other. Out of the palms of his hands flew thick cords of silver that became glittering hooks. He plunged both into his own abdomen and savagely ripped (blurred) them sideways until his guts spilled onto the ground. “We call this, my son, ‘The Judas Solution.’ I cannot explain it to you, for it is an incredibly Holy Thing, and I would not anger the Chief of all demons by repeating the story of The Great Sacrifice.”

Burning and entwined in the gray and red entrails was the man, like a birthed adult. His eyes burst outward as the heat intensified. They bled out, dried up, healed over, opened, and behold, they were his eyes again.

ANOTHER PARENTHETICAL EPISODE

“Son,” said the demon, “you’re going to get your toast cooked.”

“My toast cooked?”

“No, your toescooked.” Red grinned insanely. “Approach me.”

The man did so because he had no choice.

“Give me one of your feet.”

The man obliged. The demon pulled the man’s blackened foot into his mouth and his jaws glowed red with flames. The man’s toes blackened further.

The demon repeated the process with the other foot.

“Know by this, my son, my great love for you.”

And the man did know.

THE THIRD PARENTHETICAL EPISODE

“My son,” shrieked the demon in the man’s mind. “Come here and put your lips to my handsome chest.”

He obeyed and blood flowed fast from Red’s chest into the man’s gaping mouth.

“Guide my member up your hole so I can have my way with you, my son.”

The man obeyed and felt the writhing member tear him to pieces from the inside. Its thickness ripped him open more as the flesh bore itself upward, chewing as it climbed.

The demon huffed and puffed as he became lost in the exercise. Over and over he pounded his son until, finally, the man felt fire fluid flash within his insides.

“That’s good, my son,” the demon said. “Let’s do that for 13,000 generations.”

And they did.

* * *

On another night, as the demon rubbed burning oil over the man’s naked bottom, a thought occurred to him. “My son, there is only one sight of beauty in all my park. Let us go and I will show it to you. In my holiness, I will commit this act.”

The man extracted the entire length of the member from within him, eventually able to spit it out and watch it fall to the demon’s lap. Red rose and walked. The man followed and they came upon a living (dead) horror.

Two figures could be barely seen through the towering flames. They writhed in the center of a burning arena. A dark man was lying on his back on the smoking ground. His large hands gripped the hips of a white man trying to escape the connection between them, but it was an eternal struggle.

“All his naturallife,” began Red, “the white man feared being raped by black men. Ahhh, sadly, he was only remembering his future:

“He will always be here;

“He will always be trying to escape;

“He will always be raped; and

“For all eternity!

“This is the only truly beautiful thing in the park. I never have it far from my thoughts.”

* * *

After this session a student stood to speak. “Is there a point to this?”

A young woman nodded. “Yeah, where are you going with this?”

The old man laughed. “Maybe nowhere. But, then again, maybe I am leading you on a wild goose chase.”

“We have never heard that expression,” another male voice near the back said. “Is that ‘old speak’?”

“Yes, it is. It means you might think the book gets worse and worse, but the truth may be that when you see the ending, you will realize that, all along, things have been infinitely worse than you expected.”

He pulled his shirt over his head before he put his pants on, relishing the fact that the students had been drawing him for so long, and he loved his nude body.

“Well, when does the sex stuff end? You’re repulsive.”

“It’s true, I am. You have already passed the first invisibleact of three that make up the book. Not that there aren’t nauseating passages still to come, but I had to establish, right from the beginning, that when you come to Infernus, you lose all hope. That is gone. You no longer choose options; you are chosen. The first act is sexual brutality. The second act we are about to enter is hyper-violence.”

“It hasn’t been thatuntil now?”

He laughed again. “It has, but now we enter a realm where it is mostly just that. Would you like me to tell you what the third invisible act is?”

Another student stood to be heard. “Why didn’t you just write it in three acts?”

“Because I didn’t wantto write it in three acts. This is the only opportunity you have to learn them. I never had any desire to delineate them plainly in the text.”

“Why not?” asked the same student.

“Because I sincerelybelieve there are women and men in this world that are a hell of a lot smarter than I am, and it would insult their intelligence to write down to them. They would tell me I was pretentious and superficial. The third invisible act is hyper-violently surreal.”

“But, I already think it is hyper-violently surreal,” another student said.

“Uh, no you don’t,” the man said, smiling, and left it at that for the week.