“Watching him snore is a bore!” Tique whined. “If you can’t get that thing off his neck, Malcephalon, then—”
“He can’t wear it forever!” Malcephalon cut in angrily. “The moment it comes off, he will pay dearly for that old hag’s cheek.”
“Well, he’s not likely to wear it into his morning shower,” Eurodia said. “Why can’t we just come back then?”
“What!” Malcephalon snarled. “Leave him here unguarded all night so the Creator’s cheat can come steal him away for good? Are you mad?”
“Who suggested leaving him unguarded?” Eurodia sniffed. She waved contemptuously at Williamson. “If anything happens, our security camera here just squeals and we’re back in a snap, right? So why hang around and watch the child sleep?”
It was too perfect! Trying to sound offended, Williamson whined, “You guys can’t just leave me here alone with this thing he’s wearing. It’s not my fault we’re in this mess, and what if—”
As expected, Malcephalon whirled to face him in a rage. “You dare assign blame here, worm? If we tell you to watch, watch you will ’til Hell freezes, or you’ll grace our dinner table for as long! Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Williamson whimpered, silently congratulating himself.
“See ya in the mornin’, bug.” Tique smirked and vanished.
“Watch well, fool,” Malcephalon warned. “Hell’s master is as close to fury as I have seen him in an age.” Then Malcephalon vanished with the others.
Williamson glanced at the digital clock glowing beside Joby’s bed. Seven hours ’til dawn. There might just be time if he could force the boy’s hand quickly. With a smirk, he began humming at the walls, extending his modest little lure down into the building’s filthy bowels.
Joby was grudgingly tickled from sleep by a feather-light touch on his bare shoulder. Reaching up to brush it away, his hand found something brittle that wriggled frantically under his fingers. With a jolt he was awake, swatting in revulsion at his shoulder as he threw the covers off and leapt up to slap the light switch. In the sudden glare, he saw the cockroach scuttle through a crack beneath the floorboard.
Joby sat down heavily on the bed, nursing a hellish head rush, and looked at the clock. Nearly midnight. Vowing to seek employment as an exterminator himself in the morning if his sleep was not quickly retrieved, Joby reached up, turned off the light, and settled hopefully under his covers again.
Only then, lying in the darkness, did he notice the soft, sporadic tapping sound. At first, he thought it might be rain on the windows, but it seemed to come from too nearby. He got up again, went to the doorless jamb that separated his sleeping quarters from the kitchen, and reached through to flip the light switch just inside. As illumination flooded the room, he jerked his hand back with a gasp, and stumbled back in horror.
Roaches rained from the ceiling, swarmed across the countertops, and scuttled across the kitchen floor in frenzied retreat from the light. Joby leapt back farther, looking down in alarm at his bare feet, then around the pantry space in which he stood. For some reason the incomprehensible invasion seemed confined to the kitchen despite the absence of any door to hold it there. He had no intention, however, of waiting around to find out how long this fortunate condition would persist. As he’d struggled that evening with Mary’s advice about Taubolt, Joby had kept wishing for some kind of sign to guide him. Well, if this wasn’t one, he didn’t know what was. Holding her yarn charm against his chest with both hands, he knew Mary had been right. He had to get out of here! Now!
After yanking his clothes back on, Joby grabbed the duffel bag he used as a suitcase from the pantry cupboard he used as a closet, cramming as much of his warmest clothes inside it as would fit, glancing periodically at the kitchen doorjamb. After one last look around the pantry, he grabbed his newly recovered storybook, and shoved that in his bag just as a roach scuttled down the pantry cupboard door, and free-fell to the floor. Joby whirled to find several more insects scuttling from their kitchen stronghold. As he’d feared the tide was starting to advance.
He dashed into the living room and looked around. His rent was due in less than a week, and he had nothing to pay it with. In truth, there was nothing here he really wanted that much anyway. Jogging into the bathroom, he shoved his toothbrush and a few other things in with his clothes, then fled his apartment without looking back. Let the roaches have it all, he thought. It felt almost good to be so free.
Half an hour later he was standing at a sodium-lit freeway on-ramp with his thumb out. Despite the hour, or maybe because of it, it was hardly any time before a small blue compact pulled over and waited while he ran toward it with his bag. Joby pulled open the passenger door to find a young man with dark, curly hair, and coffee-colored eyes grinning at him from behind the wheel. “Where you headed?” he asked.
“Up the coast,” said Joby. “But I’d be happy just to get across the bay for now.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day. That’s where I’m goin’.”
“Across the bay?”
“Up the coast.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I don’t kid ’til after eight A.M.,” the guy said. “Where to on the coast?”
“No place you’ve heard of,” Joby answered. “A place called Taubolt.”
“No shit!” The driver laughed. “That’s exactly where I’m headed!”
“No way!” Joby said. “No friggin’ way!” He laughed, throwing his bag in the backseat, and climbed in. “God! I ask for one little sign, and now I’m livin’ in the tabloids!”
13
( Home Free )
The sky had paled to a slate gray, and still this rural no-man’s-land they’d been driving through for hours showed no sign of ending. Any minute now, his superiors would return to Joby’s apartment and find them gone, Williamson thought anxiously, watching Joby’s head loll against the passenger window. The boy had fallen soundly asleep even before they’d left the main route for this winding country road that called itself a highway. Their driver, on the other hand, seemed surprisingly alert for a man who’d driven all night.
“Joseph,” as he called himself, had told Joby he was going up to spend Christmas with friends in Taubolt, but Williamson didn’t buy it for a minute. At midnight? Just when they’d needed a ride? Then again, if this was Heaven’s cheater in some new disguise, why hadn’t he done something about the wraith in his backseat?
Suddenly, the air was charged with a frightening new presence—something powerful surging toward them at terrible speed. Williamson cringed in terror, sure his superiors had found him, but then the presence seemed to hesitate and veer away. An instant later, something stood in the road ahead. It seemed to be a man, though Williamson knew an angel when he felt one! Of course Taubolt’s borders must be guarded! How could he have failed to remember this? What was he going to do? The angel would sense him in an instant!
Joby didn’t stir as Joseph stopped their car and rolled his window down.
“What am I to make of this?” the tall, denim and flannel-clad “man” outside asked with obvious displeasure.
In a mindless panic, Williamson tried to flee the car.
“Stay, fiend,” the angel growled. “You are in no danger. I am commanded to let you pass. Welcome to Taubolt, wretched soul,” he added sullenly.
“We’re . . . in Taubolt?” Williamson murmured weakly.
“We are at the border,” said the driver.
“And you’re not going to stop me?” Williamson squeaked in astonishment.
“I am forbidden to deny your kind entry now that the boy has returned,” the angel said unhappily.
“Then we have to get inside!” Williamson blurted out. “It’s almost dawn! I have to be inside before—”
“Is it not sufficient that you survive?” protested the angel. “Keep silent now. Gabriel and I have much to discuss.”
Gabriel?! He’d ridden for five hours with an archangel?!
“In truth
, Michael, I wish you’d let him go,” Gabriel said. “There is much I would rather not discuss in his presence.”
Michael?!! Two archangels?!!! Williamson burst from the car in panic, and fled down the road without thought of anything beyond escape, somehow, into Taubolt.
“Gone where? What are you talking about? . . .
“What? I ordered no roaches!”
Lucifer’s face became an increasingly exaggerated mask of incredulity as he stood at his office obelisk, listening to Eurodia’s unthinkable report.
“Where were all of you when—
“No one but Williamson?” he yelled. “All night? I’ll have your worthless hides for shoe leather! Why haven’t you summoned him and found out where they—
“What? . . .” Lucifer asked quietly. “That’s not possible. . . .
“Well find him, you idiots! Find them both, or flee for your worthless lives!”
He removed his hand from the obelisk just long enough to slam it down again and shout, “Williamson! Answer me! Now!”
As the silence stretched, a thrill of rare dismay coursed down the devil’s spine.
“The presence of Lucifer’s creature is not surprising,” Michael said after casting an even deeper sleep over the boy. “But what are you doing here, brother?”
“The boy wished to come here,” Gabe said. “He prayed for a sign.”
“To you? Directly?” Michael said skeptically. “I pray my ears mislead me, Gabe! Our Lord clearly commanded—”
“A command already broken,” Gabriel said defiantly, “by the boy’s grandfather. Driven by love, Michael. Think on that! Since when has love been called sin in Heaven?”
“Love and obedience are close kin, brother,” Michael said dangerously. “Mortal kind is weak and easily confused. Their errors may be excused. But we are always in His presence. Of us all, I never thought to hear you rationalize.”
“When I discovered Merlin’s disobedience,” Gabe said, “I tried to ask—”
“Merlin?” Michael interrupted, his brows arched in surprise. “The Merlin—is this boy’s grandfather?”
“Yes. And when I asked the Creator what was to be done about his defiance, Our Master just invited me to play a hand of cards! When I declined, He said that He would never make me play.”
Michael looked askance at his sibling. “I fail to see what—”
“You have not been there to watch as I have, Michael,” Gabriel pleaded, “but I fear Our Master’s plan has gone awry! He is in danger of losing all He loves but forbidden even the least expression of concern by the terms of this wager. So He tells me that He would never make me play cards. Now do you see?”
“I see only that you’ve assumed far more than you’ve any business doing,” Michael answered. “Do you suggest that the Creator didn’t know what He was about when He agreed to these conditions?”
“If I am in error, brother,” Gabe replied sadly, “then I can only think Our Lord has turned His back on everything He loves, including us, and I cannot believe that.”
“Us?” Michael scoffed. “What have we to do with—”
“If this boy fails,” Gabe interrupted softly, “all creation is to be erased, and made anew according to Lucifer’s precise instructions.”
Stunned to incredulous silence, Michael stared first at Gabe, then at the sky, as if some explanation or assurance might await him there.
“I will hide nothing I have done from Him,” said Gabe. “Do you doubt He knows already? But I love Him, Michael. And I will endure even damnation to help Him.”
“I only pray that help is what you’ve brought Him, brother,” Michael said quietly, “for I love Him also and have never known disobedience to serve Him best. I love you as well, and dearly hope you have not sold yourself in vain.”
“Hey, pal. Time to rise. We’re here.”
The voice seemed more dream than real as it drew Joby from the well of slumber. Then a hand was laid gently on his shoulder, and Joby opened his eyes to find his face against a window, beyond which narrow green paths wound off through tall dry grass toward cliff tops and the sea. Far offshore the rising sun shone brightly on a slow procession of billowing white thunderheads migrating north against the blue, blue sky. A double arc of rainbow glowed luminous beneath them as sunlight hit the cliffs. The fields glowed golden, and a dazzling regatta of white gulls wheeled gracefully above the bay.
“My God,” Joby whispered, wondering if he might still be dreaming.
“Sure is pretty, isn’t it?” said his companion.
Sitting up, Joby drew a long shuddering breath, and smelled sea salt, wood smoke, cedar bark, and weathered stone. Somewhere to the south, sea lions trumpeted greetings to the day above the muted boom of surf. Then he turned to find Joseph smiling against a backdrop of Victorian cottages, gnarled cypress trees, and gardens full of flowers even now, in late December. Farther up the street, he saw shops, water towers, and the old hotel looking just as he remembered them. “Twenty years,” he murmured, “and nothing’s changed at all.”
“Hope it never does.” His companion smiled. “Don’t mean to rush you off, but I’m expected up the coast a ways for breakfast. This okay?”
“This is great,” Joby said, opening the door and reaching for his duffel bag. “I feel like I should give you some gas money or something, but I haven’t got—”
“Don’t worry, pal. Just do some other guy a favor, and the world won’t miss your gas money. Merry Christmas!”
“Yeah,” said Joby, remembering that it was Christmas Eve. “Merry Christmas. And thank you so much!”
Joby stepped out, shut the door behind him, and raised a hand in farewell as the car pulled away, then he turned and looked around him, memories of his boyhood visit welling up at every sight. It hardly seemed possible that he was really back . . . after so much time . . . so much water under so many bridges.
Hoisting his duffel bag, he strode across the field to go look at the bay, marveling at how much it felt like coming home, though he’d only been here once so very long ago. At the cliff tops, he sat and gazed down at the water.
“I’m back,” he whispered to all the teeming creatures he knew were there beneath the surface. “Remember me?”
He was hungry, but it was much too early for anything to be open, and he had so little cash. He had no idea where he’d stay that night. Finding any kind of job would clearly have to be his whole focus once things opened. Someone here must need some yard work done, he imagined. While waiting for the town to stir, he decided to walk around and reacquaint himself with Taubolt until he could get a bite to eat. Then he’d find a public restroom to wash up in before going to charm Taubolt’s throng of eager employers.
He was heading back across the headland toward town, still marveling at the beauty of everything around him, when he heard hushed voices from inside a dense stand of bishop pines a short way off the path. Without thinking, he stopped to listen.
“They’re so sad,” said a girl’s voice. “The whole grove. Can’t you feel it?” There was a pause. “I think we’ll need to dance.”
“Oh good,” said a second girl’s voice. “Sunday? After breakfast. I’ll tell Otter and Jessie. You get Ethan and Sophie.”
“And Hawk for seven. . . . Don’t you think he’s cute?”
“I’m telling him you’re in love,” laughed the second girl.
“No, you’re not,” said the first with comical severity. “ ’Cause I’ll tell Ander what you said to Molly at Sky’s birthday party.”
“No!” shrieked the second girl. “You take everything so seriously.”
“You shouldn’t tease then,” said the first.
There was another pause. Joby imagined them sticking their tongues out at each other, knowing he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But it was such a strange conversation. Sky? Otter? Ander? Hawk? It sounded like some kind of Indian tribe.
“What about Mrs. Farley’s garden?” asked the second voice at length.
�
�If she doesn’t stop fussing at those flowers,” said the first, “they’ll uproot themselves and run away. Mr. Farley’s been dead for years. It’s time she found a new husband. That would give her something better to work on.”
“Mr. Templer’s single,” giggled the second girl.
“Bellindi! He’s got nose hair!”
“I know,” the second girl laughed. “But—”
“Shhh!”
A sudden silence fell, punctuated by scuffling noises, then thrashing about on the thicket’s far side. Before Joby realized what was happening, the girls were peering wide-eyed at him around the thicket’s edge. They seemed in their early teens. One had startling blue eyes in a pale, freckled face framed by long, wavy strawberry hair. The other had dark eyes in a heart-shaped face, and straight dark hair tied back with ribbons. They wore jeans and T-shirts, and had chains of pansy flowers woven through their tresses. In startled disbelief, they stepped out from behind the trees to stare at Joby.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling deeply embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
They turned to look at each other, then burst out laughing and ran off, hand in hand, into the field, their flower chains scattering on the breeze behind them.
“Of course you can follow him,” the Creator said pleasantly. “Didn’t I say so last time?”
The Book of Joby Page 29
