Zeke Rising Read online

  Zeke Rising

  Book 1

  By: J. A. Reed

  Copyright © 2019 J.A. Reed

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 978-1-7336116-0-2

  Dedicated to…

  My Brother

  CHAPTER ONE: NORMALITY IS RELATIVE

  CHAPTER TWO: PREPARE NOW, WING IT LATER

  CHAPTER THREE: A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

  CHAPTER FOUR: CRUEL WORLD

  CHAPTER FIVE: DIDN’T READ THE FINE PRINT

  CHAPTER SIX: FRESH START

  CHAPTER SEVEN: THE NEW NORMAL

  CHAPTER EIGHT: A NEW DEAL

  CHAPTER NINE: DOUBLE DATE

  CHAPTER TEN: GOING FOR A STROLL OUTSIDE

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: FAMILY MEETING

  CHAPTER TWELVE: NEXT STOP, KAZAKHSTAN

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: IT’S A TRAP!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HOME AGAIN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: FAMILIAR FACES

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: FIGHT FIRE WITHOUT FIRE

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A NORMAL DAY

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: IN MEMORIAM

  CHAPTER ONE: NORMALITY IS RELATIVE

  Hell wouldn’t have been at the top of my places-to-live list, but once you get used to it, it’s not so bad. If I had to find an Earth equivalent, I’d say it’s a lot like living in the Arctic Circle, except it’s always winter. After the first few thousand years, the cold doesn’t really bother you anymore, but just try to keep that in mind next time you say, “When Hell freezes over!” because it just makes you sound dumb and ignorant. I’ve never understood why humans would think Hell was hot and all fiery anyway, I mean fire was a gift to mankind from on high, it cooks your food, keeps you warm when it’s too cold, and provides light for you to see through the darkness, why would you picture that as your eternal torment? I guess that’s what humans do though, they take something nice and find the worst possible way to ruin it; honestly, it amazes me sometimes.

  As much as I complain though, Hell’s actually been getting a lot better over the last few decades. Ever since my little sis, Trini, convinced some scientist to split the atom and tear a hole between Hell and Earth, more and more demons have been taking little vacations topside. For certain larger and more powerful beings such as myself that can’t fit through the fractures just quite yet, we get our entertainment watching all you humans. It’s kind of like you’re some sort of planetary reality TV show. To keep with terms you might understand, before the fracture watching your planet from Hell was like watching an old black and white TV from 20 feet away without glasses on. Since then, however, the pictures have been getting bigger, clearer, and more colorful; now it’s like Ultra 4D super-IMAX Deluxe or whatever overly excessive, exaggerated, redundant name you’re using these days.

  My favorite pastime in recent history has definitely been watching Earth movies and TV shows. Normal human lives are pretty boring to me now that I’ve gotten used to all the scripted action, horror, adventure, *cough* romance *cough*, and comedy that’s out there. I’d love to get more into reading, but since all we can do is watch, best I can do is read over someone’s shoulder, which just kind of makes me feel awkward. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone that can read at the same speed as me, not too fast, not too slow, and I have to stop wherever they stop and hope they actually finish reading it. It got annoying pretty fast, so I just gave up trying.

  I’ve had to force myself away from TV recently, though, because the biggest of the fractures over New Mexico and Russia are no more than a few weeks from being wide enough for me to finally slip through and see with my own eyes what all the fuss is about. If I were just any ol’ demon, I wouldn’t have to worry about it, I could just hop on over and possess any random Joe Schmo and go about my business, but I’m afraid it isn’t that easy for a fallen angel such as myself.

  You see, angels – all angels – have certain rules we need to follow, one of which is that an angel cannot take a human host unless the human consents. That makes it easy for my brothers and sisters still topside because what kind of human doesn’t want a nice beautiful angel to show up and bless them with heavenly love, or whatever bull crap they try to spin. I’ve watched some of my younger siblings down here try and win over hosts, and it’s never pretty. Once we reach Earth, our natural forms already start to rot and fester, our wings are burnt down to the bone, and our skin is pale and cold. That’s not even the worst part, though; what really causes most humans to run screaming is the bad PR fallen angels have been getting for the past few thousand years. They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I’m pretty certain I have a compelling argument to the contrary.

  The youngest of my siblings, the Muses, kind of cheat when they pass through. They use their powers of influence to prep a human so that when they’re ready to head up, they practically hop straight into the host. They each have different methods of doing it, but each one works for them. My closest brother, Zak, didn’t have that luxury the first time he tried crossing over, and he got rejected a lot, like, A LOT. As his brother, I felt really bad for him, but, also as his brother, I found each rejection immensely hilarious and made fun of him accordingly. I learned a lot of “don’ts” from watching him, so hopefully, when it’s my turn I don’t have to eat those words, but I’m remaining optimistic.

  Not a moment later, the phrase “Speak of the devil” proved to be particularly relevant, as Zak popped in through the Nagasaki fracture overhead. He arced across the sky like a shooting star until I flagged him down and he took a sharp bank in my direction, landing right next to me mere seconds later. As an Enochian, he was noticeably shorter and thinner than me, and his face was much longer with protruding cheekbones higher than average.

  “What happened?” I asked, “I thought you had a host again? What happened this time?” Last I saw, Zak had been with a young Japanese woman who had offered her service in exchange for curing her mother’s cancer.

  “What do you think happened?” he replied sounding rather annoyed. “Same thing as the last three hosts.”

  I placed my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, “I keep trying to tell you, little bro, you’ve gotta stand up for yourself. I mean, you don’t see Megatron, Trini, or any of those guys giving up their hosts.”

  Zak snickered as he always did when I referred to our brother Metatron by that nickname. “I tried this time, I threatened to put the cancer back if she reneged on our arrangement, but she called my bluff.”

  “Well there’s your problem right there, don’t make it a bluff. Give that mom her cancer back. You know what, give her a little extra cancer just for the trouble.” I focused on the target and created a sheet of frost particles in the air between us. It swirled for a moment before displaying an image of the former host across its surface like a portable television screen. She was in a small beat up two-door car driving her mom through the countryside near Omura. “Here, they’re still pretty close to Nagasaki, you should be able to do it from here.”

  Zak reached up and cleared the image away with a wave of his hand, “No, no, no, it’s fine, I’ll find another host. It’s not a big deal.”

  I looked at him confused, “C’mon, it’s really not hard, just a tumor or two,” I pulled the live image back up, “Here, I’ll even do it for you.”

  “No!” Zak snapped and dispersed the image again before I could concentrate. “I said let them go, just forget about it.”

  He stormed off and I just stood there, frozen in surprise. Giving random people cancer was like our second favorite pastime after watching TV, and in all that time Zak had never freaked out like that. I shook off my confusion enough to move again and flew to catch up. “So…Huh?”

  “I just…It’s, well…” He sighed deeply before finishing with a real senten
ce. “You wouldn’t understand, you haven’t been up there yet; you haven’t had a host.” I still had questions, but I let my expression convey them rather than using any words. He eventually caught on and sighed again. “With a host, you’re sharing more than just their body, you share a part of their mind as well. Human emotions are much more complex than I ever imagined, so…You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I guess then. We’ll have to revisit this in a few weeks when I will understand,” I said with a laugh.

  Zak’s eyes widened, as if he had forgotten and then just remembered again. “That’s right, have you thought about what it is you wanna do first? Have you thought about how you’ll get a host yet?”

  “Um, well, not really, and kinda, yeah, I think so.”

  “So specific, thanks for enlightening me,” Zak said, his words slathered in sarcasm. “But I guess a host should be the priority, so what do you mean by kinda?”

  “Well, best I can tell, humans that are down at their lowest point are the most accepting of help, even with as many strings attached as our deal would have.”

  Zak nodded. “Harsh, but true, go on.”

  “Well…that’s all I’ve got so far. Like I said, kinda…”

  Zak spared a moment to show disappointment before doing a little I should’ve expected as much shrug and then proceeded to think on a solution to my predicament. He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Don’t you see?” He expected me to somehow read his mind, but I was getting nothing. “Think about it, what kinda place would have those types of people in spades?”

  “Hmm…Bars!” I said confidently.

  “What? No. Well, kinda, but even more low. Bars have happy people too. It’s…”

  “Funerals?” I interrupted, making it sound like a question, but I was pretty sure I got it this time.

  “What? Stop that, I’ll just tell you, it’s hospitals. Full of dying people and desperate loved ones, it’ll be perfect.”

  “Oh, so I was close, just overshot a little. But hospitals? Isn’t that where you found that last host of yours?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah, guess I did. She was the easiest to convince so far too. Hadn’t really thought of that at the time though.” Zak looked up at the fractures overhead. The closest one big enough to accommodate Zak wasn’t very far, but it was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He seemed to lock eyes with it regardless. “Tell you what, I’ll go do some trial runs and let you know how successful it is. Start looking at hospitals around the American and Russian fractures, see if you find anyone you might like.”

  “And what are you looking for exactly? Gilligan’s Island?”

  If that had been directed at anyone else, Zak would’ve laughed, but instead he kept a straight face. “No, Australia’s not far from that opening, it’s a short flight.”

  “Right, and with the things that live there, I’m sure the hospitals will have plenty of candidates for you. Good luck down unda!” I said with my best accent.

  Zak flew upward. “I’ll meet you under the America tear!” he shouted behind him, and just like that he was gone.

  I had some time to kill until I’d reach the American fracture, and probably even more time until I could go through it, so I decided to get started finding a host that might be willing to take me on. “Where to begin?” I asked myself pulling up a visual of the area. The fracture covered most of the southwest of the continent, but the largest cracks were located under the state of New Mexico, so that’s where I started my search. “So many humans, who’s it gonna be? Who’s the unlucky fella?”

  * * *

  “I swear, I must be the unluckiest person alive,” I groaned from the floor of our living room. The thin Native American rug did little to soften the hardwood beneath my backside, and the morning sun was in just the wrong spot, causing it to blind my left eye through the gap of window between the wall and blinds. I tried to shift, but all I did was blind my right eye as well.

  “Oh Liam, for crying out loud you’re 17 years old, stop being so overdramatic, besides, I’m sure there have got to be, oh I don’t know, dozens of people with worst luck than you,” my mom retorted with a snicker. She was still running around the house trying to pick up before taking me to school, so I was only getting some of her divided attention. If I had to guess, she had hit the snooze button a few times too many that morning because her long curly hair had that I give up, I’ll just throw it in a bun look and the nametag with a Krystin C. sticker below the name of the small family-run diner was nearly forty-five degrees crooked.

  With my vision returned, I shot up to a full standing position. “This isn’t funny, Mom!” It wasn’t until the millisecond after it left my lips that I realized just how whiny that sounded. I cleared my throat in an attempt to sound more assertive after that. “This is the fourth time now! And why is he always eating my shoes? I mean your shoes are right there, and look! Not even a speck of drool!”

  She continued to laugh as she poured a few spoonfuls of instant coffee into a mug that said How does Jesus make his tea? on top and Hebrews it on the bottom, and then gave it a few stirs. “Well, he’s your dog, he likes your scent. It’s his way of saying he loves you,” she ended with a mushy kissy sound.

  As if waiting for his cue, the sixty-pound Golden Retriever trotted over to me looking innocent as could be. I lifted the mangled sneaker and scowled at him. “Cody! If you eat one more shoe, I’ll…I’m gonna…Ugh! I wish I could have you neutered again.” As if taking that as a second cue, he laid down where he sat and proceeded to lick himself. “Stupid dog.”

  Mom took a quick detour from her frantic path through the house to pet Cody under his wrinkled chin. “Oh, he doesn’t mean that, you’re his bestest friend, he wuvs you.”

  “Not today I don’t, little heathen,” I scowled, crossing my arms to resist falling victim to his innocent cuteness.

  Mom stopped petting him to grab her purse and search for something that probably wasn’t in there, “Oh, love him or hate him, he’s still your best friend.”

  I looked down at the poor pile of fur and stupidity, unimpressed. “Please, I can do better.”

  “Oh, hush now, he’s loyal. Even with how badly you might treat him sometimes, he’ll always be there for you, even when I’m stuck at work. What more could you ask for in a friend?”

  “How about hygiene?” With that, he resumed licking himself. “And social skills.”

  Mom laughed both at my comment and the sight of her wallet on the table right beside where her purse had been before. She grabbed it and threw it into the oversized bag. “Maybe all he needs is a dedicated master; he’s got a lot to learn, you could try playing nice.” She headed back into the kitchen to resume her morning chaos. “You can start tonight. I’m covering another shift, so it’ll just be the two of you.”

  “Again? Can I just stay over at Greg’s then?” I called out after her hoping she’d actually hear me.

  “No, you can’t leave Cody in the house alone that long, he’ll destroy the place!” she yelled back.

  “Ugh!” my annoyance overflowed into an exaggerated groan. I looked back at the four-legged anchor. “She’s not helping your case.”

  Mom finally came to the living room overburdened with all of her belongings as usual. “Okay, ready?”

  I held up the shreds that used to be my running shoe higher since she somehow missed it before. “No, what am I supposed to wear?”

  She adjusted her purse so she could squat down and pick up the left shoe that still rested on the rug beside me. She turned it in her hand a few times looking it over. “Well, this one’s just fine.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll just limp around with only one shoe, develop severe scoliosis, and live the rest of my life in a bell tower.”

  “Again with the overreacting. Calm down, Quasimodo. If you would, you’d probably remember, last time he ate the left shoe, which means…” She held out the good shoe and nudged me with it a few times until I snatched it.

  “Whic
h means I get to mix-match shoes, yay, lucky me,” I said with a low monotone over my shoulder on the way to fetch my older shoe from the garage. I had to step over Cody to get there, so I made sure to give him a soft nudge with my foot as I passed. “Thanks for that, idiot.”

  “Hurry up or you’ll be late again!” Mom shouted after me. I checked my watch, and it looked like barring any crazy traffic, we still had time. It was also then I remembered how terrible my luck was, so I didn’t want to take any chances. I made sure to shake out the shoe just in case any creepy crawlers decided to take up residence and as I did, Mom shouted back at me again, “Although, if you are late again, I’ll probably have to meet with your principal again…” Her tone was…hopeful? That wasn’t good.

  I barged back into the living room wearing one black and red shoe, and one solid gray shoe from a completely different brand. “Mom, no.”

  “Looks great!” she said exuberantly, ignoring my objection completely and gesturing to my feet. “I’m sure all the kids will be doing it soon. You’ll be a little trendsetter, now c’mon, can’t be late again.”

  “Mom, Mr. Daniels is evil, don’t even go there,” I said, standing my ground.

  “Honey, everyone thinks their principal is evil, and besides, he’s single. At my age, that’s really all that matters.”

  I walked over to her and gave her a big hug. “Wrong Mom, you deserve the best. You deserve to be as picky as you want.” We hugged a little tighter before pulling back. “And, you know, Mr. Flannigan’s single too,” I said trying to hide my smirk because we both knew how awkward and creepy the science teacher was.

  She sniffed and wiped an eyeliner-filled tear away. “Okay, yeah, there might be a few other things that matter too.”

  I opened the door for her to leave first, slung my backpack over one shoulder, and followed after her into the bright morning light. “Are you sure we can’t play hooky today? We could binge watch that last season of Buffy.”