Status: Time Travel. Demons. Beelzebub himself. All after me, George Carter. It never rains it pours.
The Time Travel memoirs: Lost And So Alone
Chapter 69: Missing in action
I open fired with my heavy machine gun as I saw George hit the floor, blood was seeping through his trench coat. Beelzebub jumped away from the shots of my heavy gun, but Stryker fired a bolt right into his arm, to my satisfaction it blew a hole in his flesh as it exploded. I straightened my metal tie and got into cover under a table which had been overturned. I had to get to the boss, the devil wanted him very dead, and I couldn’t let that happen.
We needed to stay alive until the cavalry made its way upstairs, which meant fighting the big man. I fired from cover. As far as I could tell, the bullets simply bounced off his body, this drew an amazingly loud “SHIT!” from my mouth. Stryker turned to me and arched his eyebrows, “language Lloyd.”
I took a pin off a grenade and threw it at the demon king. Upon impact Beelzebub batted the grenade near the body of George and his body disappeared out of the window. “NO!” I shouted. I put my head in my hands and then on my ears, trying to drown out the laughs of triumph from Beelzebub. I had effectively just killed George.
Stryker and I charged, I think it was the adrenaline which made us scream out our battle cries. Perhaps it was the small trumpet that Beelzebub was blowing, the trumpet that was known in demon history to call the troops. We jumped him, Stryker held him down and I cracked his skull. He just laughed, muffled but it was there, mocking our every move. Until Sachar got here, we had no hope of taking him down. The only thing I remember after that was being thrown off the demon king, as a bull would throw a man at a rodeo.
I had followed the rest of the Atlanticans and the Spartans into the portal. I had decided that I needed to do my bit, for George. I didn’t want my prediction to be correct. I could still see the Majestic being ripped apart. Now though, a new vision haunted me. It was the vision of Georgie... my Georgie, having his hand ripped off by the Beelzebub himself. The sands of Hell had melted into a glassy rock a long time ago, I couldn’t tell how long, but it was before even Beelzebub himself. Probably. Hey, I’m no expert. The Spartans and Atlanticans broke down the door and marched up the stairs of the fortress. Then the gunfire started. Then of course the screaming, it was George. After a frozen moment I moved forward so I was inches away from the fortress, but then something exploded.
I screamed and cried as the body of George Carter hit the solid floor of Hell. I heard bones crack upon impact, I knew the chances of George being alive were null. I sat with my knees drawn to my breasts and rocked back and fourth, trying not to look at the corpse of my former lover. All the shit we’d been through together and I just left, I didn’t tell him I loved him one last time. I fucking didn’t God almighty.
It seemed only right. I crawled over to his body shivering and shaking. The fact that I was in Hell, which was hotter that a desert, told me that my shivering was fear. I took George in my arms; his trench coat was soaked with blood from his hand which had been nastily ripped off. The tear of the skin looked very much like somebody had taken a tin can and began to carve at the arm. I held him, his head on my own. He was still warm, I though I could still feel the ghost of his breathing. I whispered in the corpse’s ear; “I love you and I always will.” In my experience, corpses don’t tend to whisper back, but George was the exception. “I love you too and I’m sorry.”
I screamed and jumped away from George. George smiled and pulled himself up; he cringed, because his bones were broken. I watched as he ripped the lining of the trench coat open from the inside and dressed his arm with the material, to stop him from bleeding out. “It’s fortunate that this is my right hand, I’m left handed.” I nodded gravely; I didn’t know what to say. George always had a thing or two to say. He stepped closer to me and brushed his lips against my own; we kissed for two minutes before he broke it. “I’ve to slay the evil beast and win my fair lady.” I smiled at George; “you already have your fair lady, I’m right here.” He smiled brightly, despite his injuries, “then this is just for recreation.”
We both headed for the fortress, hand in hand. I took his remaining hand and we both headed for the direction of the screams.
We needed to stay alive until the cavalry made its way upstairs, which meant fighting the big man. I fired from cover. As far as I could tell, the bullets simply bounced off his body, this drew an amazingly loud “SHIT!” from my mouth. Stryker turned to me and arched his eyebrows, “language Lloyd.”
I took a pin off a grenade and threw it at the demon king. Upon impact Beelzebub batted the grenade near the body of George and his body disappeared out of the window. “NO!” I shouted. I put my head in my hands and then on my ears, trying to drown out the laughs of triumph from Beelzebub. I had effectively just killed George.
Stryker and I charged, I think it was the adrenaline which made us scream out our battle cries. Perhaps it was the small trumpet that Beelzebub was blowing, the trumpet that was known in demon history to call the troops. We jumped him, Stryker held him down and I cracked his skull. He just laughed, muffled but it was there, mocking our every move. Until Sachar got here, we had no hope of taking him down. The only thing I remember after that was being thrown off the demon king, as a bull would throw a man at a rodeo.
I had followed the rest of the Atlanticans and the Spartans into the portal. I had decided that I needed to do my bit, for George. I didn’t want my prediction to be correct. I could still see the Majestic being ripped apart. Now though, a new vision haunted me. It was the vision of Georgie... my Georgie, having his hand ripped off by the Beelzebub himself. The sands of Hell had melted into a glassy rock a long time ago, I couldn’t tell how long, but it was before even Beelzebub himself. Probably. Hey, I’m no expert. The Spartans and Atlanticans broke down the door and marched up the stairs of the fortress. Then the gunfire started. Then of course the screaming, it was George. After a frozen moment I moved forward so I was inches away from the fortress, but then something exploded.
I screamed and cried as the body of George Carter hit the solid floor of Hell. I heard bones crack upon impact, I knew the chances of George being alive were null. I sat with my knees drawn to my breasts and rocked back and fourth, trying not to look at the corpse of my former lover. All the shit we’d been through together and I just left, I didn’t tell him I loved him one last time. I fucking didn’t God almighty.
It seemed only right. I crawled over to his body shivering and shaking. The fact that I was in Hell, which was hotter that a desert, told me that my shivering was fear. I took George in my arms; his trench coat was soaked with blood from his hand which had been nastily ripped off. The tear of the skin looked very much like somebody had taken a tin can and began to carve at the arm. I held him, his head on my own. He was still warm, I though I could still feel the ghost of his breathing. I whispered in the corpse’s ear; “I love you and I always will.” In my experience, corpses don’t tend to whisper back, but George was the exception. “I love you too and I’m sorry.”
I screamed and jumped away from George. George smiled and pulled himself up; he cringed, because his bones were broken. I watched as he ripped the lining of the trench coat open from the inside and dressed his arm with the material, to stop him from bleeding out. “It’s fortunate that this is my right hand, I’m left handed.” I nodded gravely; I didn’t know what to say. George always had a thing or two to say. He stepped closer to me and brushed his lips against my own; we kissed for two minutes before he broke it. “I’ve to slay the evil beast and win my fair lady.” I smiled at George; “you already have your fair lady, I’m right here.” He smiled brightly, despite his injuries, “then this is just for recreation.”
We both headed for the fortress, hand in hand. I took his remaining hand and we both headed for the direction of the screams.
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