The Hand of Hell (The Hand of God Book 3)

  The Hand of Hell

  Tim Miller

  Copyright © 2015 Tim Miller

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover design by Dave Mclean

  Prologue

  Jorge sat at the table trying to concentrate. The thud, thud, thud of the music from the club below made the floor vibrate. He hated working out of this place. It was always too hot, and smelled like sweat and booze. However, this is where the boss wants them to be. The sound of crying came from behind him. He stood and walked over to the door in the back of the room, yanking it open. One of the girls had worked the duct tape off her mouth and was sobbing.

  The little Mexican girl looked to be twelve or thirteen. She muttered something in Spanish as she cried. Jorge pulled his switchblade from his pocket and stuck it in her face, cutting down her cheek.

  “Shut up, puta or I’ll cut your heart out and let the other girls play with it,” he said.

  She looked up at him, trying to hold in her sobs. Jorge grabbed the roll of duct tape and placed a strip over her mouth again, but this time, he tore off several long strips of tape and wrapped it all the way around her head more times than were necessary. He tossed the roll behind him, and looked over the rest of the girls. There were ten of them stuffed into the large closet, all bound by duct tape around the hands, feet, and mouth. The truck would be arriving in the morning to deliver the girls. Jorge wasn’t sure where they went from there, and didn’t care. Some he presumed would be prostitutes, while others would go work on farms or sweatshops. Didn’t matter to him, he got paid the same regardless.

  Jorge had hoped that after surviving fifteen years working for the cartel, that he’d have a more respectable job than babysitting a bunch of pre-teen girls. Yet, this wasn’t exactly an organization you retired from. As he closed the door, he noticed the thudding of music down below had stopped. He listened carefully but heard nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s never that quiet down there this late. It was just after midnight. The place is usually jumping. He headed for the stairs when he heard the screams. Horrific, blood curdling screams. Drawing his gun, he ran down the stairs and cracked the door just enough to peek through, what he saw was sheer pandemoniumThe crowd was surging in all different directions, and through the strobe lights, he could see blood spraying through the air as bodies collapsed across the dance floor.

  A woman threw herself against the door pushing it open. He pushed it back, but she was halfway through wedging it open.

  “Help me! Please! Help!” She screamed. “He’s killing us! Stop him! He’s killing us!”

  “Who? Who’s killing you? What do you mean?” Jorge asked.

  Before she could answer, she let out one final scream as the flesh tore away from her body. In an instant, she was a living, breathing pile of blood, muscle, bone, and tissue. Her naked, wide eyes bore into Jorge as she screamed, grabbing him by the shirt while simultaneously falling over dead. Looking out into the club, he saw the other bodies looking just like the woman’s; totally skinless, all of them. The screaming died down as the last of the patrons fell. There was one man standing in the middle of the club. The man turned and looked right at Jorge.

  Jorge ran up the stairs and began to pry the window open. It was stuck shut, since they kept the air conditioning on most of the time, no telling last time it had been opened. He got it halfway open when he saw a reflection coming up behind him. When he spun around, the man was standing several feet from him. The man was white, maybe 5 foot 9 or 10, medium build, but he had a friendly face, not scary looking at all. Yet he had torn apart an entire night club in minutes.

  Jorge took the gun and fired three shots at the man. The rounds hit him dead center in the chest. The man looked at him and smiled as the bullets protruded from his body and fell to the floor. Jorge pointed the gun back at the man, but this time it wouldn’t fire. The man put out his hand and the gun jumped from Jorge hand and straight into the man’s. The strange man looked at the gun as if it were an object from mars, and crumpled it into a ball as if it were a piece of notebook paper.

  Jorge turned and began to work on the window again. The man grabbed him from behind and dragged him across the hardwood floor, tossing him onto a small couch in the corner.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jorge asked.

  “Jorge, we need to talk.”

  “What the fuck about? What is this? You gonna fuckin’ kill me?”

  “I’ve come for the girls Jorge. What you’re doing to them is wrong. I’m here to free them.” The man said. His voice was smooth and calm. There wasn’t an ounce of tension to indicate he’d just shredded a club full of people.

  “You won’t get away with this you son of a bitch! My bosses will fuckin’ kill you!”

  “Oh, I doubt that, but you won’t be around to see what happens anyway.”

  “You gonna skin me like you did the others, you sick fuck?”

  “Probably.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “Oh, most definitely! It will be pain like you’ve never experienced before. But only for a minute, then you’ll spend eternity listening to other people’s screams while feeling all of the suffering you’ve caused.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

  “They call me El Diablo Blanco, but you can call me Charlie.”

  Chapter 1

  Pastor Charlie sat staring out the apartment window. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, just listening. Since absorbing the Ghost’s powers, and even the Ghost himself, he found he often heard things he never heard before, lots of things. He was still trying to figure out just who he was. For one, he wasn’t a pastor anymore, not by any stretch. Nothing was stopping him technically, but after having done battle with two-thirds of the holy trinity and winning, he wasn’t sure what he’d preach about.

  He’d run into some fringe groups that knew what he knew and even who he was. One group had tried to worship him, which he supposed he was at least part god now, but it just felt weird. In the two years since all that happened, he’d been keeping a low profile. Other than a recent raid on a human trafficking ring he’d taken down on his own, the most he’d used his new powers for was cooking toast and he once made a running back during a University of Texas football game, trip and fall in an open field just by thinking about it while he was watching the game on TV.

  There was probably lots more he could do, to live up to his nickname El Blanco Diablo or The White Devil. Some Mexican drug lords had called him that after seeing him in action. So he had a few tricks up his sleeve, but Maria was afraid of him. The Ghost had once possessed her and was using her as some conduit with which to come into this world and destroy its own creation.

  It didn’t help Charlie had pissed him off a year or so before by killing Jesus, or at least the man known as Jesus. He was nothing like the stories though, that was for sure. It was kind of like finally getting to meet your childhood hero, only to find out he was an asshole.

  Needless to say, those events were a bit disheartening for Charlie. His plan had been to go after the Father who was apparently the head mother fucker in charge when it comes to deities, but he hadn’t yet. Mainly he just was too tired for another cosmic fight; though, the Father did speak to him from time to time. He had this almost robotic voice, like Siri except it was gender neutral, very plain and f
rankly boring.

  “Charlie, Charlie my son. Why have you forsaken me?” The Father would say.

  “You’re kidding right? You just tried to kill us all, twice.”

  “I have only tried to kill that which is flesh. Surrender yourself to me and you shall be spared the coming trials. Your soul shall absorb into my being, into the eternal bliss.”

  “Thanks, I’m good,” Charlie would reply. It went the same way every time. He wasn’t sure what the old man’s angle was other than to mind-fuck him. He had no doubt that he’d be coming for him soon, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

  “You coming to bed?” Maria asked. She was standing in the doorway looking out at Charlie. After all she’d been through and even just wearing a baggy t-shirt, she still looked stunning. If he were honest with himself, he had no idea why she was with him. The girl was a Latina goddess. She could have any guy in the world, yet she chose him. Granted he rescued her from an angry god, and jumped off the Tower of the America’s in San Antonio while holding onto her, but still.

  “I have some things to do tonight. Work called me in for a while,” he lied. His job was as a stocker in an overnight warehouse. He was a fill in, so they usually called him in. Most nights though, he was out doing an old hobby.

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, again. We need the money.” No they didn’t, but got her off his back. He loved Maria, at least he thought he did. Part of him was never sure he was capable of love. Before he was slaying unruly deities, he was not only a preacher, but a serial killer. Though he only killed evil sinners that God told him about, he later learned God had nothing to do with it. He was just sick. Then there was the part about his ancestors were fallen angels, so he could also turn people into zombies if he chose, though he hadn’t in quite a while.

  Which was ok, being sick helped him to not care about getting hurt or how big his opponent was, or powerful.

  “Will you be working long? I hate being here alone,” she said.

  “I hope not. I’ll do my work and leave as soon as I can.”

  “Ok. Good night Charlie. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he said as she disappeared into the bedroom. Since her possession, she’d been near zombie like herself. He’d taken her to some doctors who tried to prescribe her medication for depression, but she wouldn’t take it. Said she never wanted anything else messing with her mind again. Charlie couldn’t really blame her.

  Once she was in bed, he went into his man cave which was really a study except there was only a beanbag, a TV and some bookshelves. Behind one of the shelves was a small compartment he’d cut out that contained his bag. He grabbed the bag and put the book shelf back against the wall and headed out to the car.

  Even though he had all these new and amazing powers, there were some things he preferred to do the old fashioned way. He did however, used his power for smaller tasks like information gathering, since his brain was now faster and more accurate than google. It hadn’t happened yet, but if he ever needed to make himself disappear, he was sure he could do that too.

  He parked the car just across the street from his target’s home. A young, slick douchebag named Ronny Richards lived there. Ronny was a UPS driver, but he also happened to be a rapist. Ronny would check out women on his routes and scout the ones who lived alone, then come back later for his own special delivery. For some reason, despite his gift for violence and madness, Charlie always had a soft spot for women and children. Maybe it was because as a serial killer, he took out other predators, and now with his new powers, he was at the top of any and every food chain.

  Monsters who preyed on the weak and helpless were the worst kind. Though he didn’t have any illusions of doing God’s work. That was all in the past. He watched the quiet house until Ronny’s car pulled and into the garage. It was just past midnight. The usual time Ronny gets back from the bar. Charlie knew his every move and every thought.

  If he wanted to, he could just make Ronny’s brain explode inside of his own skull. It might be fun to watch, but wasn’t messy enough, he preferred the old fashioned way. Once Ronny was inside the small house, Charlie got out of the car and grabbed the duffel bag. There was a smile on his face as he crossed the street. Time to do Charlie’s work.

  Chapter 2

  Charlie decided to take a straight forward approach with Ronny. The guy would be no physical threat to him at all. He walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. Within a few minutes the sound of footsteps padding their way to the front door before the door opened slightly.

  “Can I help you?” Ronny said.

  “Hi Ronny. We need to talk.”

  “Who are you?”

  Charlie shoved the door open, knocking Ronnie backward. The little man stumbled and Charlie was on him in seconds. He duct taped the man’s hands and feet immediately then went to work.

  “What are you doing? Who are you?”

  “In good time” Charlie said as he felt along the wall. Found the stud in each part of the wall and marked it with a pen. He did that for three points before dragging Ronny to the wall and cutting his hands loose. The man tried to struggle, but he was too weak for Charlie, even if Charlie lacked his god like powers. He pressed the man against the wall, and pulled him up onto a step stool.

  “Please! I don’t even know you! This is insane! You want money? I make good money. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Take whatever you want.”

  “Oh no. I don’t care about your money. I’ve got something special for you.”

  Charlie stretched Ronny’s left arm out and up, and positioned a large nail into his wrist. The man screamed and struggled, but Charlie took the hammer and drove the nail through the bone and into the stud of the wall. He pounded it to the side, bending the nail over his wrist into an L shape.

  “Jesus! Oh my god! Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Stop that please!”

  “Don’t be such a baby.” Charlie said as he went to work on the other hand. Ronny was struggling and jerking about. “Hold still, you’re just making it worse.”

  Charlie drove the nail into the other wrist, causing more screams. He reached into his pocket and took out a bandana, balled it up and shoved it into Ronny’s mouth. Someone would call the cops with all that screaming going on. Ronny’s cries were now muffled as he screamed through the bandana.

  Once he had both arms nailed into place, he crossed over Ronny’s feet and drove two huge nails through his ankles. The man wasn’t screaming as much at this point, it had mostly become pathetic whimpers. Charlie stood and pulled out his smartphone as he removed the bandana from Ronny’s mouth.

  “Please?” Ronny cried. “Please let me go. Don’t hurt me anymore?”

  “Ronny, I’m going to show you some pictures. I want you to look closely.” Charlie opened up a picture of a young woman. “You know her?”

  “No! No man, I never seen her before, honest!” Ronny said.

  “Liar!” Charlie flipped to another picture. “How about her?” Then another. “Or her? How about her?” He flipped through several more but Ronny just kept shaking his head.

  “Ronny, you see. I’m not a cop, in fact, I’m nothing like the cops. To be completely honest, I’m far, far worse than the cops. The best thing that could have happened to you would have been for the police to find you before I did. Since they didn’t, well. You’re mine.”

  “I didn’t do anything to them. I don’t even know them. Hell, I don’t even know what you’re talking about you fucking lunatic!”

  “Oh, stop the innocent victim act Ronny. You raped them! All of them!” Charlie said. “You gouged one girl’s eye out. Another you broke her jaw in six places. She had to have her jaw wired shut for months.”

  “You have the wrong guy! I don’t know what you are talking about!”

  “Then let me refresh your memory,” Charlie said. He closed his eyes and thought of Ronny and his victims. This part wasn’t so much old school, but it added to the experience. He’d been thinking of tryi
ng it out for a while, so this seemed like as good of a time as any. Tapping into the godlike part of himself, he reached into Ronny’s mind and began showing him memories. The memories of Ronny the victims he claims innocents too.

  Except, Ronny would have a special seat to his own atrocities. Charlie would show him each assault from his victim’s point of view. Ronny was looking up as if he were staring into space as the visions played out in his head.

  “What is happening?” He asked. “I don’t understand? What are you doing? Stop it! This isn’t me! It isn’t me! No!” Charlie knew exactly where he was in the vision. He must be seeing the part where he gouged out the girl’s eye before raping her with a putty knife. Oh yeah, he could feel everything his victim’s did too. After another scream, blood appeared in his crotch as he recalled the vicious rape. After another minute, his eyeball exploded. Charlie decided he would have to use this technique more often.

  White fluid ran down his face from the bloody eye socket as the visions finally subsided.

  “Now Ronny. You still want to tell me that wasn’t you?” Charlie said.

  “You’re fucking with me. You drugged me or some shit and you’re making me hallucinate!”

  “That’s quite a theory, but unfortunately for you that is not the case.”

  Ronny looked up with his one good eye and began praying.

  “Dear Lord. Please forgive me. Forgive my sins. I know I was bad, but I’m sorry. Please? Don’t let this man hurt me.”

  “You know it’s funny you’re praying to God,” Charlie said.

  “Why? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No need to pray. I’m standing right here.”

  “You’re insane! You’re fucking insane! That is what you are!”

  “Perhaps. But I’m not the one nailed to a wall whose nuts just exploded.”

  Charlie began thinking again of what he could do. Using his mind and power again, he visualized a new look for Ronny. As he pictured the image in his mind, Ronny screamed and cried as the squishing sound of his organs and flesh moving around. Charlie opened his eyes and it was like watching some horror film using stop motion animation. Ronny’s flesh was twisting in on itself as his flesh pulled away from his scalp and face little by little. After almost an hour, the sickening show and sound effects had ended. Ronny’s body was just handing to the wall, this time his flesh was literally hanging on him inside out.