Bat Out of Hell Part 2

This is a full repost, with another chapter, of a story I posted a day or so ago.  I made some minor changes in the first part (already posted) and spent an hour or so today writing the second part...for whatever reason I am enjoying doing this story and all the insanity.

 

BAT OUT OF HELL

By Shane Scott

      Zinkie drove like a bat out of Hell for good reason. 

     His dark, beady eyes peered intently at the road ahead, that stretched to the horizon, while his right hand gripped the steering wheel tightly.  Heat lightning flashed nonstop in the broken sky turning the ugly landscape blurring past into a hostile, alien world.

     “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon” Zinkie muttered over and over.

     Screaming down the poorly maintained highway Zinkie’s vehicle hit a large pothole and lurched, on the verge of careening off the road or tearing apart.

     “Hold together. Hold together. Hold together.” Zinkie pleaded, patting the dashboard of his car encouragingly with this left hand.

     After what felt like an eternity, far ahead in the distance, a graffiti covered road sign on the edge of the highway came into view.

     “Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Zinkie whispered as his impossibly adorable, tiny fur covered snout smiled, showing two impossibly adorable tiny fangs.

     Zinkie’s frail looking, bony left arm, attached to his wing reached out and his tiny left hand slowly pushed the T shaped throttle lever to the forward stops, lighting the afterburner.  Two feet of blue flame ignited behind the three foot bat-mobile causing it to surge forward, pushing Zinkie heavily into his seat.

     Reading the sign as it flew past, “Now Leaving Hell” Zinkie had no intention of slowing down anytime soon.

****

     The Lesser Demon Eek Beak started to speak then decided to just freak.

     His succubus wife screamed at him, so to distract himself he sat back in his creaky office chair and used four of his eyes to get a double stereoscopic view of his wife’s over the top, perfect centerfold body while using his other four eyes to take in the dull, peeling gray walls and threadbare, faded brown rug in his office that looked exactly the same as when it was installed twenty years earlier.

     His wife Misery screamed, “It’s called The Highway TO Hell, not The Highway FROM Hell! How did that stupid bat even build a bat-mobile? And for you-know-who’s sake, what did he use to power it?”

     Eek Beak considered using the number #2 pencil in this hand to stab himself in the pleeplop so he could listen to his own screams for a change but decided against it as he would need to get another pencil from his desk drawer.  Someone in a sick, cruel practical joke filled it with Hellfire breaking it beyond repair and now it rarely opened without a fight.

     Misery glared lovingly at her husband Eek before continuing to scream at him, ”And whatever he used to power his clown car bat-mobile, we need to get rid of it, every bit removed from Hell, right now before the Boss gets back.”

     “No, that’s not going to work.” 

     Misery stopped screaming and started shrieking. “Why?  Why not?  You want everyone deciding to leave?  Whatever stupid Zinkie used to supercharge that rodent-mobile, it has to go.”

     “Zinkie used Hellfire.” Eek told his wife.

     Misery crossed her arms over her gorgeous naked breasts and wailed. “WHAT????  THAT ISN’T GOING TO WORK!!!!  We can’t get rid of Hellfire from Hell!!!!! We are so screwed!  When the Boss gets back we will be lucky if he doesn’t kick us out of Hell for incompetence.”

     “We could give him another reason.” Eek offered.

     Misery uncrossed her arms asking in a husky voice.  “Another reason?”

     Eek loved his wife, a cardinal sin in Hell, requiring those caught to register on a pervert list.  He also wanted to fornicate with her, the number one cardinal sin in Hell. Anyone could fornicate with anyone in Hell, except their spouse, and certainly not anyone they loved. Those types of sicko perversions were dealt with harshly. Fornication with someone you loved meant instant and permanent expulsion from Hell and no one wanted that except stupid Zinkie.

     Still needing to tell Misery how much he loved her, Eek hollered, “This is all your fault you dumb bitch.”

     Misery’s stopped screaming at Eek, her eyes opening wide and her gorgeous breasts heaved.

     “That’s right you ugly hag.”  Eek bellowed.

     Talking to Misery like that always troubled Eek but whispered sweet-nothings were painful for a succubus to hear.  The first and only time Eek told Misery she was pretty the poor succubus writhed in agony for days.

     Eek never forgave himself and thanked you-know-who every day that he hadn’t been stupid enough to tell Misery “I love you”. Those words often proved fatal to a succubus. 

     Long before Eek and Misery met, in the most obviously sane, rational, forward thinking way, a rule was established to weed out love from Hell. Spouses were assigned based on those most incompatible with each other.

     “The Boss is going to make us go Upside and chase that miserable rodent down.”  Misery said miserably, before pulling Eek out of his creaky chair and pushing him down on the worn carpet and roughly kissing him.

     Eek wasn’t certain a quick trip Upside would be a bad thing. Eek thought to himself, ‘Sure, the Upside is full of those perverts all in love with each other but still, he could fit in’. 

     If he and Misery went together to the Upside, finally he could tell Misery, frequently and repeatedly, how much he loved her without having to say those terrible hateful things every succubus liked hearing.

     Eek should have also considered it might not be that quick of a trip.

***

     Zinkie shot out the Gates of Hell, still gripping the throttle lever and blasted across the parched Death Valley desert chased only by his own sonic boom.

     “Hellfire.  Hellfire. Hellfire.  Good stuff.  Good stuff. Good stuff.” Zinkie chortled.

     Only a few seconds later, still driving like the bat out of hell he was, Zinkie saw a red master caution alert on the dashboard begin blinking on and off, joined by a loud buzzing alarm.

     “Uh Oh. Uh Oh. Uh Oh.”

     Intelligent, dark beady eyes frantically scanned numerous digital readouts and displays and Zinkie’s hand quickly pulled the throttle lever back to idle and the bat-mobile began slowing from Mach speeds.

     “No. No. No.” Zinkie yelped, grabbing the steering wheel with this left hand, freeing his right to reach an overhead panel where he gently tapped an analog pressure gauge.

     “Dangerous! Dangerous! Dangerous! Emergency dump!  Emergency dump! Emergency dump!” He hollered to no one in particular and reached down desperately pulling a small, yellow circular handle and turning it 90 degrees. 

     Slowing through Mach 2.0 the bat-mobile began leaving a blazing skid mark of Hellfire behind.

     “Design flaw. Design flaw. Design flaw.” Zinkie quietly told himself while reviewing in his own tiny, furry head, insane schematics for his invention he called a Charmingly Strange resistor.  

****

     After being unjustly, unceremoniously dumped and forgotten in Hell, with no avenue of appeal or redress, Zinkie decided leaving as quickly as possible made sense.  Being hastily wedded, in a well attended, freakish marriage ceremony to a hawk-girl who wanted to nibble his private parts, and not in a good way, Zinkie set about making arrangements for departure.

     He was given the nickname Stupid Zinkie after being evaluated by several Demons who noted a dangerously high intelligence, so far off the charts it was in unknown territory.  The Demon responsible for work assignments noted the name Stupid Zinkie and put him to work in waste disposal hauling trash to the Hellfire blast furnace located in the bowels of Hell. Both the nickname and job suited Zinkie just fine.

     His job allowed virtually unfettered access to vast areas of Hell as he went about collecting and destroying damning information on various clergy members and his nickname assured no one gave him a second glance.

     As Zinkie worked hauling and burning the evidence, over days, months, years and decades he filched bits of wire here, pencils for carbon there, and a whole host of other parts he needed.

     In Zinkie’s new office, the roaring sweltering cauldron of the blast furnace, he slowly built a laboratory and began assembling his bat-mobile.

     Only once in that dark time did anyone ever enter Zinkie’s research and manufacturing facility. A shifty Higher Demon named Flink accidentally stumbled in, trying to hideout because he wore the bright red, scalding hot letter P on his chest identifying him as registered wife fornicating pervert.

     Flink peered around suspiciously slowly saying in a dangerous ogres’ voice, from one of his canine mouths, “Say, what you do here?  Technology not allowed in Hell.  You break rules.”  He then closed his exoskeleton armored fist determined to smash stupid Zinkie’s head in.

****

     “I don’t want to go Upside!!!” Misery whined at Eek Beak in their 15’ x 15’ hovel, a gift showing the astonishing generosity of the Boss.  Misery continued whining. “I said I don’t want to go Upside.  I’ve already been there, it sucks.”

     While using six of his eyes to check out Misery in Tri-Stereoscopic vision, Eek committed another cardinal sin saying a heartfelt, silent prayer to you-know-who, begging Her, “Please let the rumors be true.  Let me be able to tell Misery, just once how I really feel.  Please You-Know-Who, please just once.”

     Misery’s scream pierced Eek’s revere. “Are you listening you worthless Demon? Are you even listening?”  Then Misery wailed even louder if that were possible, “And we have to go in twenty four hours!!”

     Eek wasn’t really listening but heard every word Misery screamed and shrieked for the last hour, though he wished he hadn’t.  “I heard you.”

     Eek then agonizingly chipped another small piece off his already shattered lump of a heart, roaring at Misery, “You should be in my kitchen, pregnant with the neighbor’s child cooking me dinner!  The only reason your not is because you are uglier than a witch hag and can’t even beg the neighbor for a pity fornication!”

     “What are you going to do about it?” Misery said glaring at her husband.

     So Eek stood up, understanding Misery’s request and smashed her across the face hard enough to drive anyone through half a mile of concrete, anyone that is except a succubus.

     To Eek’s surprise Misery didn’t scream at him about being a weakling or worse, she was immediately in all four of his arms.

     The first time it happened a month or so back, the wife loving fornication thing, Eek knew his Immoral Soul was doomed for all eternity to Salvation which brought a creeping feeling of dread over his exoskeleton every time he thought about it.  Eek also thought Misery did it because she wanted to blackmail him or planned on publically denouncing him like any good succubus would.  But Misery never whispered a word.

     The second time, recently in his office, Eek had no idea why Misery was fornicating with her wife loving (she had to know) pervert sinner of a Demon husband and considered going quickly to the Unholy Temple and demand a priest listen to his Denial.

     Finishing their fornication the third time, only an hour before they had to head Upside, the most frightening, unspeakable thought entered Eek’s brains.  “What if Misery felt the same about him?”

     Eek immediately closed all eight of his eyes and silently begged You-Know-Who, “Please, not Misery.  She hasn’t done anything wrong.  Don’t doom her to Salvation.”