The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,33
Lands.
HE GROUND WAS rough and uneven. They picked their way down it carefully, relying on their feet to feel the way. Zac took the lead; Herya’s heeled boots were no good for testing the ground and Angelo... well, Angelo was just Angelo. Zac glanced in the boy’s direction whenever another crack of lightning illuminated the fog, just to be sure he was still the same size and shape.
They had been walking for twenty minutes or more. The slope had become dangerously steep at several points, but they’d moved sideways until they’d found an easier route and carried on down that way instead.
Three times they heard a howl, each time further away than the last. But Zac remained focused, listening for any other movement in the mist. He wasn’t keen on the idea of being eaten at the best of times, but to be eaten, digested and then passed back out in a place where it was impossible to die was, he reckoned, a definite no-no.
“He’s got the whole world in His hands,” began Angelo. “He’s got the whole world in his—”
“Please don’t,” said Zac, his voice clipped and gruff.
Angelo fell silent, but only for a moment. “Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning,” he sang. “Give me oil in my lamp, I pray – Hallelujah! Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning burning burning; keep me burning till the break of day. I wanna sing Hosanna, sing Hosanna—”
“Please stop,” groaned Herya.
“What,” protested Angelo, “just because it’s not about... about... a giant’s knickers it’s not a good song all of a sudden?”
“Look, no one’s singing anything,” Zac said. “It makes too much noise. You’ll attract attention.”
“We should be safe to talk, though,” Herya replied. “So talk to me. Tell me things.”
Zac slid a few centimetres down a gravelly incline, paused, then sidestepped on to more solid ground before continuing downwards. “What sort of things?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t that what you do on Midgard? Just talk endlessly and never actually do anything?”
“Midgard?” said Zac. “That’s what your lot call Earth, isn’t it?”
“No. Earth is what your lot call Midgard.”
“Ooh! Ooh! I can tell you something,” said Angelo. If the others hadn’t been holding them, he’d have raised a hand. “Me, me. I can tell you something!”
“Go on, then, demon.”
“Angel,” said Angelo automatically. His mind raced through the list of topics he knew about. The focus was narrow, so it didn’t take long.
“I have two-hundred-and-nine Hulk comics, and the Hulk’s real name is Bruce Banner,” he announced happily.
Zac shook his head. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“Where? Here? What’s he doing here?” gasped Angelo. He shouted into the fog. “Jesus? Jesus, it’s me, Angelo!”
A chorus of howls rose up, some far away, some not so much.
“Sssh, shut up!” Zac hissed. That settled it. He came to a decision. “As soon as we get to the portal, you’re going home.”
“What? But I can’t,” Angelo said. “They told me I had to go with you. I’ll get into trouble if I don’t go—”
Zac cut him off. “The decision’s made. Herya will come with me. You’ll go back to Heaven. No arguments.”
“But—”
“No arguments.”
They trudged on without speaking for all of thirty seconds.
“My feet hurt.”
Zac sighed. “They’ll be fine. Keep walking.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’ve got no shoes on. I bet you’ve got shoes on, haven’t you?”
“Ha!” said Herya. “You think you’ve got problems? Try walking in these boots.”
“What, can I?” Angelo asked.
“No.”
“Oh, but I could just try them on for a—”
“Seriously, demon,” the Valkyrie warned, “don’t even think about it.”
On they walked, in single file, hands locked, down through the soupy fog. For an hour they continued like that, in silence apart from the occasional comment from Angelo. Once, he made a tuneless attempt to whistle what may have been ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, but which might just as easily have been ‘Can’t Touch This’ by MC Hammer. He’d sighed heavily when Zac had told him yet again to shut up, and had remained quiet ever since.
Until now.
“Please don’t send me back yet. I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“The fog’s thinning,” said Zac, ignoring the request. “I can see my feet.”
“The area round the portal should be clear,” Herya said. “The mist sits above it like a cloud.”
Zac felt Angelo’s hand tighten in his. “Are we nearly there, then?” the boy asked.
“Must be,” replied Zac. “And, yes, you are going home. It’s too dangerous to come with me. You could get killed.”
“I don’t mind that it’s dangerous. I’m not scared of