The gate is wide and the path is easy,

That leads to destruction,

And those who enter by it are many.

But small is the gate and narrow the path that leads to life,

And only a few find it.

MATTHEW 7:14

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"Samael Losix." The voice was unfamiliar, probably a new doctor coming to check on him. Sam opened his eyes only a sliver, the hospital lights blinding him. "Samael, wake."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sam yawned and sat up, still blinking rapidly. He held out his arms, and his voice was dry. "Cuff me."

"Pardon?"

Sam's eyes finally adjusted, and he felt a wave of shock at the realization he wasn't sitting on a cheap hospital bed. The sheets were a rich purple, the pillows too. A canopy of silk hung above him, tassels of golden threads dangling by his head. The walls were burgundy and adorned with tapestries depicting Bible stories. One wall was actually glass, offering a view of the Manhattan skyline. The person sitting a chair beside him, who obviously wasn't a doctor, smiled at him.

"Who are you?" Sam demanded. The man seemed to be in his thirties, with a white toga and wreath that made him look like a Jesus cosplayer.

"I am Zeus," cosplay-Jesus said. "But also much more. Like Odin." His image shimmered and then cleared to reveal him with a long white beard, full body armor, and winged helmet, clutching a spear. "Ra." Now he was mostly humanoid, save for a falcon head. He wore a long black and red toga, his chest bare. "Itzamna." Dark skin, hooked nose. He wore an intricate helm upon his head with many designs carved into it. "And God." Then his appearance reverted to the original, with the beard and robes.

"If you're from all those religions, which name do you use?" Sam said, instead of bowing or something. He still believed himself to be experiencing some elaborate fever dream.

"That doesn't matter," replied Zeus/Odin/Ra/Itzamna/God, looking miffed at the disrespect. "What matters right now is you."

"Me?" Sam pinched himself, and frowned as it hurt. "Where am I?"

"Many places," Zeus said cryptically. "But you just died at 3:28 PM in your sleep."

Sam stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment before sitting down hard. A wave of nausea hit him. He clutched his head and steadied his breathing. "So I'm dead?" He huffed out a laugh. "All that was for nothing? I'm just someone who survived a little longer than normal?"

"You're much more than that," said Zeus. "I'm going to bring you back. I would have contacted you earlier, had I not been encumbered with preparations."

"For what?"

"The Apocalypse." Zeus continued nonchalantly, "Now, I'm going to send you back, and no time will have passed. We're talking in milliseconds now, so I better fix you up before the virus overtakes you."

"You're making me immune?"

"Yes. If you don't feel prepared for these tasks, you will stay here."

Sam quickly redirected his thoughts away from fantasies about seeing his mom again. "No, I'm good. What tasks?"

"You will meet with three others, all unique, but you will be the first."

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Sam woke to the howling of the wind from the holes in the roof. Thumping above told him that Helmer was boarding them up. He lay on the couch for a while, listening to the blizzard rage outside of the old church. They had been staying there for a few months now, and the place was falling apart. His breath misted in front of him, the chill from outside threatening to overtake the heater-less building.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He remembered the second dream he received, when he was told to wait for the boy with a war in his head to come.

"He is the only one I cannot visit," Zeus had said, "You must wait for him to figure it out on his own."

Sam stretched and stood, walking over to Abalone, who Helmer had allowed inside due to the bad weather.

"This is your steed," Zeus had whispered, as Sam watched Abalone approach.

Sam didn't expect to be able to communicate with his 'steed', and it startled him every time it happened.

"Hello Samael," she greeted. "These blankets are comfortable." Although the two of them had conversed about nearly everything when they were alone, the horse still wouldn't tell him where she came from.

"I'm glad you like them," Sam said. "But can you talk a bit quieter?"

"MAYBE I'D BETTER SPEAK SOFTER SO I DON'T HURT YOUR SENSITIVE EARS!"

Sam winced and glanced up at the roof, half expecting Helmer to pop in and ask why he was yelling. "Don't do that," he whispered. As he listened to the thudding on the roof, he muttered, "I wonder when he'll figure it out. The others must be getting impatient."

"Everything will happen in time," Abalone said sagely. "And don't fret. The others can be patient."

"Let's hope so."

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"We need to leave." Helmer was trembling with cold, his teeth chattering. He had come inside only a few minutes before, and his clothes were soaked through completely. "Seriously. We'll die if we stay here any longer."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"I don't think we can bring Abalone," Helmer admitted. "The cold might be too much for her."

"She'll be fine," Sam said firmly. He believed it.

"I was thinking we'd go south," Helmer suggested. "Someplace like Florida, without much temperature change."

"That'll take months," Sam said. "And even if we're immune, we could be bringing the disease to more populated areas."

Helmer gave a dry laugh. "If anywhere is more populated, then why hasn't the government come to search for survivors? Nah, everyone's dead."

"Considering how contagious the disease is, why would they risk their men to come check for survivors that they don't think exist? They'd be sending them to die. New York and everything northwards is probably quarantined."

"You might be right," Helmer said. A flash of cold determination crossed his face. "But I want to live, and the only way I'm going to do that is if we leave."

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New York City was a graveyard.

They trudged along in complete silence, the snow crunching beneath Helmer's shoes. The snow blanketed the pavement, lumpy in places where it coated bodies, and Helmer shuddered everytime he stepped on an arm or finger.

Abalone trotted beside him, swerving around corpses that she couldn't see, which only confused Helmer. Her white hide blended into her surroundings, rendering her nearly invisible if not for the blankets and sheets they wrapped around her to keep her warm.

"I can walk," Sam complained from Abalone's back, tugging at the ropes that kept their supplies in place. His face, being as pale as it was, flitted in and out of view as snowflakes drifted by.

"You can't," Helmer asserted, rubbing his fingers together as if he could even start to induce sensation. "You're not wearing shoes."

"And?" Sam persisted. Helmer wondered why he was complaining; he wasn't marching through the snow.

They passed the skeleton of the Empire State Building, the antenna broken from the top. Soon it would join the rubble of its brethren.

The sky was obscured by thick clouds; no longer snowing, but blocking the sun regardless. Helmer's four layers of sweatshirts wasn't enough to keep the chill out, and his nose and cheeks stung from the cold. His legs were worse, with only jeans as a barrier from the elements, and his toes were dangerously close to falling off.

"This feels weird," Sam said, squinting through the snowy haze. "This city used to never sleep."

"I guess it finally collapsed from exhaustion," Helmer muttered. "You still have the map?"

Sam nodded and pulled out a folded map of the city. He glanced up at the street sign. "Okay, we're on Riverside boulevard. We need to go straight until we reach the turn, then we cut over to the Joe DiMaggio Highway. We'll follow that until we hit the Lincoln Tunnel."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Helmer said, stopping. "The Lincoln Tunnel?"

"What other tunnel would I be talking about?" Sam scoffed.

"Sam, that's way too risky."

"Well, how else are we supposed to get off the island?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "Cause I'm definitely not trekking all the way to Brooklyn just to encounter another set of obstacles. No thanks."

"Would you like to be crushed by millions of gallons of water?" Helmer argued. "No way. I'm not going in the Lincoln Tunnel."

"We'll be fine."

And without another word, Sam spurred Abalone into a canter, forcing Helmer to jog to keep up.

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