All His Angels Are Starving

"I'm not going to do that," said Jenny, staring up at the crucified man, eyeing how his chest and ribs jutted out like a fucked-up pair of wings. The cross towered over Jenny, with Yeshua nailed to it several feet off the ground.

"What do you mean?" he asked, eyes wide. He swallowed hard and shook his head vigorously from side to side, straining against the nails, his long hair bouncing in every direction as his shriveled-up balls flapped against his bony thigh. "No no no no no! I prayed so much. So much. For Him to send someone...to come and... why? Why? Why won’t you help me?”

Red bursts of lightning shivered up and down his body, as though he was statically charged, but Jenny recognized what was happening. She could almost taste it in the air: Yeshua was in a constant state of agony and healing. His flesh was always trying to heal around the nails hammered, always trying to close those holes.

Yeshua started crying and pleading. Or at least Jenny thought that's what the man was doing because Yeshua switched from hissing and shushing to sputtering in a language Jenny couldn't understand.

"Please," started Jenny, hoping to find some answers. Hoping the man would calm down and stop hurting himself. "Can you tell me where are? What are you doing here? I'm looking for my-"

But Yeshua wasn't willing to listen. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and crazed, and he spat at Jenny. "I want to die. I want to die. Please just let me die. Why else would He send you?" He screamed and struggled against his restraints, ripping open wounds that healed almost instantly with bursts of red light. He bared his teeth and hissed, appearing completely feral, almost as mindless as the Tarnished Angels. Spittle clung to his beard as he snarled at her. Yeshua wouldn't listen no matter what Jenny tried to say.

She offered the man water and food, clothes. "I can make you whatever you need," said Jenny trying to sound calming, trying to sound reassuring. "Let me get you down from there and then we can talk."

"Just slit my throat. Please. Haven't I done enough? Just do it. I don't want to be here anymore."

It broke Jenny's heart, the sheer desperation in Yeshua's voice, the constant wriggling, the fidgeting, as though he were tossing and turning in bed, desperate to wake up from a nightmare. But this was infinitely worse. He’d been crucified. "I don't want to kill you," said Jenny. "I thought your singing was beautiful. Please let me help you."

Yeshua let out a pitiful cry, raising his face up to the clouds as a sob broke into a deafening cry of anguish. It echoed all around the flat salty lands. Then he slumped forward so that his brown hair covered his face and chest, and went still.

Jenny held her breath, expecting Yeshua to have another outburst, but the man seemed to have fallen asleep. Exhaling loudly, exhaustion tugging on the edges of her thoughts, she figured it would be a good idea to get some rest as well. It didn't seem like any other creatures were alive in this world. Besides, what was the worst that would happen? She'd get killed in her sleep? At least that way, she'd find the world of the dead right away.

That's silly, she thought with a grimace, but Yeshua's screaming words kept echoing through Jenny's mind: I want to die. I want to die. Please just let me die.

Her head ached with questions, with fears and thoughts. Where was this place? What was Yeshua doing here? And why did he think Jenny was sent here to end his misery? For a moment, Jenny considered getting the man down while he slept. Maybe I can pry the nails out; maybe he won’t be as frantic once he’s free. But exhaustion made Jenny reconsider.

He needs serious help, and he wants to die. I can't help him like this.

And what if he’s dangerous?

What if there’s a reason he’s contained here?

Her head spun with gruesome images: the angels, Miriam, Susan, Oliver, everyone. Jenny sat down and raised her hand to make a bottle of water. But that Energy... she'd gotten so much of it from Susan, from Miriam. Is it right to use that?

Of course it is. You have to survive. You have to find her.

I don't know if... she stifled a sob and slammed her hand against the course ground. It was like sitting on the beach, except the air burned slightly and everything tasted like salt. There was no breeze. She stared at Yeshua's body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wondered how he'd folded the distance between them. It almost reminded Jenny of her Instant Acceleration, but this seemed to warp everything around her and...

"Are you there?" whispered Yeshua in angel-tongue.

Jenny nodded awake. She must've fallen asleep, her chin resting on her hands, her hatchet flat in front of her. She cleared her throat. "Yeah?"

Yeshua's eyes remained shut, his head raised. "Oh Lord, deliver me from evil. Guide me. Preserve me for I take refuge in you..."

Brushing the salt from her armor, noting how it seemed to drain color from the blue scales, Jenny stood and approached Yeshua again, cautiously. How long was I asleep? She felt somewhat rested, but now her stomach rumbled with hunger. A rumble that went straight to her throat; she didn't want to throw up again.

Red lightning flashed around Yeshua's palms and feet. His gaunt face relaxed as though she were asleep, but his thin lips moved. He was singing again. This one sounded like a hymn, and Jenny was about to sit back down and try resting some more, but his eyes flung open.

"Which one are you?" he hissed menacingly. "An angel? What do you want from me? I have nothing. Nothing! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

"I'm not..." started Jenny, blinking at the sudden enraged outburst. "I don't want anything. I'm human, remember? A Desecrated... Human."

"A what?" spat Yeshua before unleashing a tirade of words in another language. These sounded vicious and ugly, as though he was cursing Jenny up and down. Then he fell quiet again. His body shook; he was crying, sputtering, "Please, my lord. Please, deliver me from this. Please just.... they're coming. They're coming. Just kill me. I can’t do it again, please...”

"Who's coming?" whispered Jenny, glancing around. It was nothing but flat ground as far as she could see. In the distance, she could barely make out the pillar forest, and the sky overhead rolled with the same storm clouds. Was it just her imagination or had everything become darker than before?

"My children," said Yeshua, his eyes glazed over. He looked right through Jenny, staring at the ground, eyes darting from side to side, as though he was searching for something, some possible way out of this. "I died for their sins," he said. "I died for their sins. This is my body, given to my children...I died for your sins. I died for your sins. I died for your sins." He repeated it again and again, over and over, his voice rising in pitch, in franticness, until it was a shrill screech. Red lightning snapped and popped, this time around his throat too, and he slumped forward again, breathing heavily.

He died for our sins? Jenny started forward to soothe the man somehow. Maybe I can take the thorns off his head. Or maybe I should just make a water bottle and force him to drink. Can I get those nails out? But Yeshua's head snapped right to Jenny. His brown eyes piercing and bright, and Jenny froze, shocked by the abrupt motion.

"Don't move," hissed Yeshua slowly, emphasizing each word. "Don't make a sound. Don't move a muscle. Let them come. My children always come. But I do this for you. For you. For them. So don't move. Don’t even breathe. Don't do anything. It will be over soon. My Lord will protect me."

Something sickly warm, like a stranger's breath, crawled across the back of Jenny's neck. She whirled around, ready to face whatever had Yeshua terrified and out of his mind, but there was nothing there. Just the salty, dark flatness of this world. Was she imagining things? She rubbed her neck and wondered if she should just get Yeshua down and figure out the rest later. But when she turned to face the cross again, she saw the ground around it shifting and bubbling, coming alive.

Round white shapes surfaced from the salt, wriggling and gelatinous, in the same way the exoskeletons of the angels had been before hardening. Thin limbs stretched out from the shapes, like a creature unfurling, and then there was its head. It expanded like a balloon until the creature resembled a bald, genderless human. Except they were all white, ghostly white, with no discernable features other than five-fingered hands and five-toed feet.

Ghoul (NULL)

Null? Each one was roughly the size of a small adult, each one the color of exposed bone. Their bodies jiggled and wiggled, and countless more Ghouls surfaced from the ground like bubbles rising to the top of a glass of water. They stretched their limbs and shook their heads. A few brushed up against Jenny's legs and sides as they stood, just a few inches taller than her, and a cold, ugly sensation traveled up her spine. She didn't move, remembering how intently Yeshua had asked her not to. But she was surrounded. She felt like she was in a crowded train, holding her breath, the underground closing in.

The creatures' eyes opened. Jenny expected them to be like the angels, white and empty, but these weren't just blank. They were hollow. It was like staring into holes in the ground. Smoke or vapor, she couldn't tell which, swirled inside the sockets. They had two narrow slits for noses, and then the ghouls opened their mouths and spoke.

They spoke in shrill, high-pitched voices, in languages Jenny recognized: Spanish, Cantonese, French, and even English. These were human languages, and even though she didn’t know them, she recognized what they were doing: the ghouls were crying for their fathers.

"Otōsan!" one of them screamed.

" Ég er hrædd," said another.

"Dios mío, condúceme a tu luz."

Every single ghoul turned their round white heads toward the cross, and as they spoke, Jenny noted their mouths were too big for their faces. Drool, glistening, spilling down their chins. And the flurry of languages swirled around her.

“Father! Father save us!”

“Babā, āmākē bām̐cā'ō!”

“Ich habe zu viel Angst, Papa!”

The words grated the inside of Jenny’s head; she wanted to cover her ears, but she didn’t want to move. She almost couldn’t move, because Yeshua was laughing.

He was roaring with laughter, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking, drawing the attention of all the ghouls. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes as his laughter died down. He shook her head and whispered, "Don't move, girl. Don't move at all. Or they will come for you too.”

The ghouls, some of them shrieking in high-pitched voices, some of them muttering, all of them begging for their father, moved in unison, rushing toward Yeshua like a nightmarish stampede of mannequins. Their round heads bobbed up and down, they looked so much like cartoon creatures, that Jenny didn't know what to even expect until they reached the cross and began to climb. One latched onto Yeshua's feet, stretching up to grab onto his ankles as it sucked his toes into its mouth.

With a series of ugly pops and cracks, blood sprayed all over the other ghouls, staining their pristine bodies. The first Ghoul tore off his toes, and Jenny almost cried out. But it was the look on Yeshua's face that kept her frozen; the grimace, the sadness, the way his lips were pressed so tight, his eyebrows squeezed together. He was used to this. The only indication of pain was the way his thin body stiffened against the cross. I died for your sins.

The blood sent the others into an even more crazed frenzy, and Jenny knew exactly why. She could smell it, could taste it in the air. his blood was delicious. The metallic tang, that sweet promise of warmth, the taste of fresh blood in the air.

Another ghoul climbed onto Yeshua's thigh where it bit into his brown flesh and tore away a chunk, revealing glistening bone. This time, Yeshua howled in pain, and the ghouls howled in solidarity around him as they continued. More and more climbed up his legs and found new places to bite. Some nuzzled against him, as though seeking warmth, as though seeking nurture, but then their teeth found his skin. They bit into his sides, his ribs, his shoulders. Some climbed onto the top of the cross and chewed on his fingers. Some clung to his elbow and ripped into his armpit.

Some made it to his face, where they cut their hands on the crown of thorns and cried as he cried.

“Father, I need you.”

"Je t'aime!”

"Anqithna min hatha al-makan al-raheeb."

Red lightning sputtered and sizzled each time, sometimes muffled by the wriggling bodies of the ghouls, but it was always present. It repaired Yeshua's body, so that after every bite, there was always a new place to bite down on, new skin to tear off, new flesh to rip away.

The first ghoul let out a shrill cry. Blood ran down its white chin, and its round head seemed to have swollen. The smoke in its eyes stopped swirling, and, with a heavy sigh, it fell away from Yeshua's body, bounced off several ghouls, and lay trembling on the ground.

As Jenny stared, the ghoul melted into a puddle of white and pink liquid that the other ghouls mindlessly splashed through. More ghouls joined the first one, splattering on the ground, and slowly the liquid seeped into the salt and disappeared. It was like the Ghouls were returning to the dirt.

Did they die once they got their fill? Jenny stared at the entire ocean of Ghouls that now covered the flat land; they came from every direction, like some brutal pilgrimage. How long was this supposed to go on? How long would Yeshua scream and suffer? And hadn’t he called them his children?

Jenny held her breath when she could, trying not to inhale too deeply, the scent of blood almost intoxicating, but she listened as Yeshua cried. As Yeshua screamed. As Yeshua sang until a Ghoul bit through his bottom lip and chewed off his beard. Lightning flickered and flashed so often; Jenny felt like she was staring into the heart of a demonic thunderstorm.

What do I do?

Why am I hesitating? I need to help him. But how?

Why did he ask me not to move? Were the Ghouls that dangerous?

The lightning. The healing ability... Jenny swallowed hard. Something was clicking into place, and maybe it was part of the answer as to why Yeshua was here, nailed to a cross. The World of Death. The man on the cross. The Ghouls feasting on him... Yeshua had to be important, had to be powerful, had to be. How else could he heal like this? Jenny inhaled deeply, loudly, expanding her chest and making herself feel bigger.

A ripple moved through the crowd of ghouls. Their white forms paused in unison. Yeshua looked up, blood streaming from his torn cheeks and exposed teeth, and shook his head. He must’ve tried to talk; Jenny could see the man’s vocal cords glistening and moving.

She raised her hatchet slowly and cocked back her arm. The Ghouls responded in unison, all of them falling quiet, their round heads turning to face Jenny, to stare at her with those smoky eyes. The entire world was suddenly silent, and the mass of Ghouls stood still. She exhaled slowly through pursed lips, eyeing the ones nearest to her. They were slumped forward, arms swinging, but they weren’t attacking. Maybe they were confused.

“I told you to kill me,” hissed Yeshua weakly as light cracked up his neck and his mouth healed. “Don’t pity me now. This is my purpose.”

“I’ll do you one better,” said Jenny, sliding one foot back till it bumped against a Ghoul. She grimaced, but when it didn’t react, she figured it was now or never. She took aim, stomped forward, and launched her hatchet as hard as she could. Savage Throw!

With a satisfying clunk, the edge cut through the Ghoul holding onto Yeshua's arm and sank into the wooden beam of the cross, completely severing his wrist from the rest of him. Blood sprayed horribly from the wound, but Jenny had freed that arm.

Just as the Ghouls started screaming, an enormous bolt of red lightning, far stronger and brighter than any of the lightning before, sparked out of the bloody stump. Jenny caught a glimpse of his widening eyes, his blood and spittle-soaked beard, and then all the Ghouls leaped into the air. Summoning her hatchet back, she threw herself into the fray, praying desperately she made the right decision by freeing that man.