Warnings: blasphemy warning, zombie warning, lack of editing warning.
It’s easier for the humans to pretend, I suppose. Who wants to know, to understand, the truth?
They talk about the zombies like they’re not alive, like they’re inanimate bodies rampaging through the countryside. Technically, it isn’t true. Oh, sure, they’re rampaging. But the humans that lived and loved inside those meat suits are still very much alive in there.
They’re like rabid dogs. They’re the same creature you once knew and loved, but ripped apart by pain and fear and the desperate driving for something they can’t, shouldn’t, have. They didn’t want this. Anyone who can see their souls can see the pain they’re in, can see the marks of their imprisonment. Not a single one of these poor bastards signed on for this. For all of Lucifer’s faults, and there are many, it’s odd that it isn’t him to have crossed the line so utterly.
The human afterlife is complicated, because it’s influenced so entirely by what the individual human believes will be there. But in the end, there’s peace, even if you wind up in Hell and it’s only the peace that comes from knowing what happens next, or that you’re paying your dues for all the wickedness or whatever. Imagine being dead, and finding your peace. You go up instead of down, your sins forgiven. You find yourself back with everyone you’ve loved and lost. There’s a reason they call it Heaven. And then suddenly, your soul is ripped out of Heaven and forced through the earth and back into the decaying shell it used to inhabit.
Imagine, body falling apart, having to rip your way through the earth and out of the metal lined coffin your loved ones had chosen for you. Imagine the pain of it, of being hurtled through eternity into a place suddenly too small, and utterly wrong. Everything hurts, because reanimating a body means reanimating the nerve endings, and Michael hasn’t cared enough to minimise the pain to the souls he’s meant to be defending.
He could have brought the bodies back without the souls, given the souls have no power over the bodies anymore. He could have spared them that pain, at least. And there are thousands, perhaps millions, of these poor bastards broadcasting their agony out into the world, their screams never faltering or falling silent.
It’s an abomination to force them out of their eternal home. Grandfather would be furious. Probably. Possibly. Dad, too. Even Lucifer pities the abominations. It’s odd that it’s Satan working to find a cure for them, a way to return the souls to their resting place, at least. He says it’s to take that particular weapon off the table, but the fluttering of his wings tells me more than his forced air of disdain.
Even for Luce, it’s not about just stopping the threat.
The problem with these zombies is that they haven’t been raised by earthly means. A necromancer raises the dead, there are ways to send that soul back up or down. But when an archangel, the ruler of Heaven, does it?
Put a blade through the throat of a necromancer, and they’re not bringing anything back to life. But Michael is untouchable. Kill his zombies, he’ll throw those souls back in those bodies and send them on their way. Smite those zombies, send the atoms of their bodies into the nothingness of space, and he’ll just raise someone else, and deny that soul a return to heaven.
The abandoned souls, bodiless, still scream. They’re lost, alone. They shouldn’t be. Souls, normally, can still interact a little. They can see each other, they can huddle together for warmth or comfort until they’re in Heaven and into their divine avatars. These souls, though? Something’s wrong. They are in the world, but forced apart from it. Whatever Michael has done to force them into bodies, it’s stopped them being able to interact. They don’t see the other souls, can’t find each other, can’t find comfort or safety. The servants of death are little better, struggling under the onslaught of this growing population of souls they can’t do anything with. They can’t be judged for what their bodies have done- they aren’t in control, so Luce has no claim over them. Only Michael can take them, and he’s refusing.
Heaven is closed until he’s dead. And he might just be unable to die.
The bodies of children are the worst. They’re too young to know such pain, and yet, here they are, screaming and writhing as their bodies stay alive through the processes of death. My father always said that mercy was our duty to the humans. It’s our job to keep them safe, to protect them from the threats they face to the best of our ability.
How do I protect them from this? How do I stop this? And why the hell isn’t Dad here helping?