The scorched sides of the iron oven began to glow with the heat of the intensifying flames as the overhead gas sprayed out in combustible clouds. Outside of the partially closed grill, three male figures stood solemnly staring at the corpse on the rolling tray between them. The cold crept from the small window in the cinderblock wall, high above their heads, as the first hints of winter were carried in on the remains of Hallows Eve.
The silence hung heavy, dripping down to the cold concrete floor beneath the men's boots, despite the fact they were all well acquainted with each other's vices at this point.
"Strange turn of events from last year," muttered Zee as he stroked the growing hairs of his long white beard, "It feels like Halloween happened yesterday."
"That's because it did," Screw chuckled as he pulled a cigarette from the side of his cap, "It happened only a few hours ago, if you want to be technical."
"That's not what I meant," grumbled Zee, "You know I'm talking about the shit that happened last year."
"If my enemies couldn't kill me a second time, then no one can," Screw scoffed, lighting the cigarette and inhaling a drag, "I can't say that wasn't a fun time though."
"Don't worry about him," Zee glanced at the third man, dressed in a stohl.
"What's his deal?" Screw eyed the man suspiciously, "If I don't know, we might be burning a second body tonight."
"I'm a representative of the Path of Eli," the man spoke up as he bowed his head, the firelight reflecting off of the flaming phoenix silhouette sown onto the lower flaps of the stohl, "I'm here in my capacity as a minister to speak the last rights for our fallen sister, even if she betrayed The Saviour and the New World."
"Can't stop the cat from catching mice after all," Screw grinned wickedly as he passed the cigarette to Zee, "Here, you look like you need this old man. Say, weren't you a minister yourself at one point?"
Zee nodded silently as he took the cigarette from Screw's outstretched fingers, "Indeed, I was. My old mentor came to remind me of that last year, while you were in your battle royal with the dead."
"Hey," Screw scolded, "There was no way I was going to pass up an opportunity like that. Who gets to kill their enemies twice? Besides, they never stood a chance either time."
"I think it's ready," Zee nodded towards the oven, "It feels hot as hell in here now, even with the night air leaking in."
"Send the bitch straight to hell then," Screw laughed gleefully, "Put her where she belongs."
"God works in mysterious ways," the minister began to mutter as he pulled a small black book from his pocket, "He has shown himself through the Prophet Eli. Our god is not the god of justice or light. Our god is the true god of humanity."
"Away you go!" Screw sang, pushing the steel cart forwards towards the open oven door, "May you come back for revenge."
"Oh god," the minister continued as the body disappeared into the inferno, "May you bless us with your eternal presence. Protect us from the Plague, protect us from those who would harm us. Bring us your immortal messenger Eli, found by the Archangel, sent to protect us and punish us for our sins against you."
"Say," Screw put a hand on the minister's shoulder, causing him to go silent, "Did you just mention Eli knowing the Archangel?"
"It is written as being so," the minister replied solemnly, looking deep into Screw's eyes, "The Archangel was the first messenger of god, before he found Eli, god's chosen one."
"So Eli's a serial killer?" Zee grunted, pushing the cart away from the oven door and closing it abruptly, "I suppose that makes sense."
"No," the minister shook his head, "Eli is the chosen one. The Archangel is the destroying angel, the hand that god smites down the wicked with."
"Still sounds like Eli," Screw laughed as he wheeled the cart into the corner, "Zee, give me that fucking cigarette back."
"The destroying angel is growing weak with age," the minister started up again, "As such, he has chosen his successor, the one who will inherit his mantel."
"But it isn't Eli?" Zee handed Screw the remaining half of the cigarette.
"No," the minister began to sound slightly impatient, "May god have mercy on your foolish soul."
"Watch what you fucking say," snarled Zee, "I have a much closer relationship with god than you do, friend. That's how I'm here, in this situation."
"I have a solution for both of you!" Screw grinned, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he raised his hands high, "God, if you're there, go the fuck away! We don't want you anywhere near us! You're a curse!"
Both Zee and the minister stopped arguing to glare at Screw.
"You speak foolishness, son," the minister muttered, "It is not wise to invite the wrath of god down upon yourself."
"Me and the g-man are pretty tight homies," Screw winked at the minister, "He doesn't scare me."
"He should," muttered Zee, "The very thought of him should fill you with dread."
"I must finish the last rights now," the minister interjected before Screw could respond, "This is an important aspect of our belief."
"Fine then," Screw grimaced, "Finish your holy tales."
Ignoring Screw's blatant disrespect, the minister turned towards the crackling flames and the smell of burning flesh. Reaching down, he opened the black book, pausing his finger on a particular line.
"And so it shall be that one day to dust you shall return." the minister began to chant, "You shall be the dust of the earth, waiting to be molded by god once more. Death is not the end, for it is only the beginning. One day, the cycle shall repeat once more…"
"We are but the twisted monsters of his almighty design," muttered Screw to himself as he finished his cigarette, "Doomed to act upon the whims, reflected by his true nature…"
"Bring swift wrath down upon all those who would be foolish enough to oppose thy divine will…"
…..
The boy silently stood listening from his spot near the basement window. The first flakes of snow began to fall around his feet, soaking into the cold, damp grass and mud beneath him.
As the boy listened to the minister chant his praises and implorations, he grinned to himself...
Turning away from the window, he began to walk back into the predawn shadows of the early morning.
Soon the only thing that distinguished him from the vast darkness was the glow from his cigarette.
A second later, the faint trace of life was gone, as he flicked the glowing butt away, leaving it to extinguish with a hiss in the cold muck that surrounded the building.