Erik closed his eyes and curled into a fetal position on the black sand. He put his arms over his head and drew his knees to his chest. But he couldn’t blank out the awful sounds of the pitiful, wretched souls who crushed down against him. They were suffocating and smothering him so badly that he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe. Hundreds of millions of plaintive wailings mixed together as one awful cry, with only bits and pieces even recognizable.
“Mary! At last! I’ve found you!”
“Billy! It’s me….”
“Mommy, where are you?”
And so it went. It was the weight of a hundred million souls upon him.
He was just about to give himself over to the desperate despair when it happened. They all stopped and froze where they were, as if time itself had been suspended. The voices stopped, and there was only silence.
Erik became aware of a gradual lighting; the brick red glow slowly turned orange, and then yellow. The shades dissolved around him, backing away from him as if he had become some fearful, frightening creature.
Erik noticed that the light wasn’t coming from around him, but from inside him, as if he himself had been illuminated from within. He could feel the radiance warming and refreshing him. He felt rejuvenated, as if he had taken a cool, refreshing shower on a hot summer’s day, and had been given a magical potion of energy and life.
To the damned souls around him, though, it was as if he had become poisoned. They retreated from him now, holding their hands and arms over their eyes in distaste and terror. He could no longer hear them-their voices had become mute to him-but he could see their lips moving as they cried out in fear and loathing. Whatever he had become was hateful to them.
He slowly crawled to his knees and looked over at his friend, Johnny Dovecrest. The Indian had also become transformed. His whole body was lit up, as if he had a strong fire burning inside him. The effect reminded Erik of paintings he had seen of angels, where the artist had somehow embodied them with a magical, mystical glow.
The doomed souls were moving away from Dovecrest as well, slowly backing away and holding out their hands as if to ward him off. The swarm had stopped completely and was now moving away from them both. It backed up against itself like a traffic jam as the shades melded into one another, and then slowly, almost with a delayed reaction, turned back the way they had come.
Dovecrest, too, had crawled to his knees and he met Erik’s gaze. A small, smile parted his lips, and Erik smiled in return. The two men sat and watched as the doomed hordes moved away. They could still see the damned souls, but could no longer hear them, or feel their anguish. And they no longer attracted the damned, but repelled them.
“What happened?” Erik said, finally.
Dovecrest stood up slowly and shook himself off. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I think our prayers were heard.”
“Heard and answered.”
“Yes. Heard and answered.”
Erik got to his feet and looked around. The masses of the damned ignored them completely now, as if they had never existed. Erik took a step towards one of them, an old man who must have died recently, since his rags were not as rotted. The soul of the man backed away in disgust.
Erik noticed that the glow of light was fading away now, and both he and his friend were returning to normal. But the feeling of refreshment remained. They had experienced just a drop of heaven here in this hellish place, and it was enough to rejuvenate their spirits, at least for the moment. Neither man knew if it would be enough to sustain them for the rest of the battle. But it was obvious that they had not been destined for this place, and, whatever happened, their fate would not mean staying here for all of eternity. Whatever they had to face, it couldn’t be worse than this, Erik thought.
“Come on,” Dovecrest said. “I have a demon to destroy.”
“And I have a family to rescue.”