Between Heaven and Hell

by Jeff Kirvin

  Late that night, they approached from the east, as Daniel suggested. The Care Center was about the size of a large hospital complex, but most of the buildings were only one or two stories tall. There were no other buildings for miles, an insurance taken by the angels that the only view most citizens would ever have of a Care Center was what they saw on television. The buildings themselves were clean, white and they looked very medical. The fences topped with razor wire were far enough away as to not be seen by the occasional television camera.

  Daniel and Ricardo crouched in the brush about a half-mile away from the fences, watching closely with binoculars. They were surrounded by a dozen of the Underground’s best fighters. Nearly a mile behind them, out of sight from the complex, was an array of makeshift armored vehicles, all internal combustion powered, and therefore illegal. Least of our worries, Daniel mused.

  “Not much activity,” Ricardo said.

  “Not yet, but there will be. Remember,” said Daniel, speaking to all of them, “the angels are fast, even without armor. Don’t even get near one hand to hand. And don’t waste your grenades. They’re your only effective weapons. Use them only when you’re sure they’ll do some good.

  “Once we get that fence down, two things will happen. Our people will haul ass in there and start loading people into vans, and the angels will try to stop that from happening. Your primary concern is to protect the vans. Don’t go chasing after any angels that might try to draw you away. That’s my job.”

  Ricardo looked quizzically at Daniel.

  “The instant we blow down the gate, I’ve got to find and destroy the commandant. It’ll buy us more time, and send a message as well. Don’t wait for me.”

  Ricardo nodded, then spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Everyone ready?”

  He received various affirmative replies, then looked again at Daniel. “May as well get this over with,” he said.

  Daniel smiled grimly, and nodded.

  Ricardo keyed the walkie-talkie again. “Go.”

  Liberation

  Once the word was given, things happened quickly. Daniel, Ricardo and the others rushed the service entrance, blowing it open with their grenades only moments before the speeding Underground vans barreled through the opening. Daniel clapped a hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. “Don’t wait for me!”

  Ricardo nodded, then followed the vans. Daniel loped off to the north, where they were fairly sure the commandant’s office must be.

  Ricardo was thankful. They’d taken the angels by surprise, and met almost no resistance at all making their way to the holding areas. They’d seen only one angel so far, and Bob dispatched him fairly quickly. Thirty seconds with no trouble, he thought. Not bad.

  He knew the situation wouldn’t last, though. Already, the warning sirens were blazing throughout the complex. Judging by the reaction times they’d recorded at the other Care Center they’d bombed, they had two more minutes until the complex’s unarmored guards arrived, and ten minutes beyond that until the armor dispatched from Heaven showed up. They had to move quickly.

  On Ricardo’s signal, the lead van, one specially modified with an armored grill, plunged through the wall of central holding facility. The instant the cinderblocks stopped falling, Ricardo was through the hole. “We’re the Underground!” he shouted at the pale, emaciated people inside. “We’re here to rescue you!”

  While the others started loading people into the trucks, Ricardo looked to the north, waiting for the angels to come, and wondering what Daniel was doing.

  Daniel wasn’t sure what he was doing. He and Ricardo had studied everything they could about the layout of the Care Centers, and he thought he knew his away around one pretty well. He quickly discovered that knowing the layout of place from the air and knowing it from the ground were two different things.

  He wasn’t lost, exactly. He still knew roughly where in the complex he was, and he knew the route back to the exit and rendezvous with Ricardo and the others. He just had no idea where the commandant was.

  “Stop where you are,” commanded a voice behind him. “And drop your weapon.”

  Daniel stopped and turned around slowly, dropping his grenade launcher on his right foot. One of the dozen or so angels in the complex, one of Gabriel’s security goons by his uniform, held a pistol aimed in Daniel’s direction.

  The angel smiled. “I can’t believe my good fortune. You’re Daniel Cho.”

  Daniel shrugged.

  “Gabriel’s been looking long and hard for you, traitor. I’m going to look awfully good when I turn you in.”

  Daniel cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

  “You have something to say, Cho?”

  “No,” Daniel said as he dropped backwards to the ground, simultaneously ducking the angel’s bullet and kicking the grenade launcher back into his hand. Within seconds, all that was left of the angel was a smoking wet spot on the wall of the nearest building.

  “I’ll be damned. It worked.” Daniel kept looking.

  Ricardo hastily glanced at his watch as he waved more people into the trucks. They were running out of time.

  As if on cue, the angels arrived. They weren’t armored, instead wearing the tan/gold uniforms of Heaven Security. They were armed, however, and while the automatic weapons they carried were only a nuisance to an immortal, they were lethal enough against a human. “We have company!” Ricardo yelled. “Don’t let them near the trucks!”

  Humans and angels opened fire simultaneously. In the first few seconds, a handful of angels were blown apart and a handful of humans were cut in half by automatic weapons fire. Both sides dropped back to regroup.

  “Keep firing!” Ricardo shouted. Maybe half the prisoners were loaded, and unless his men could keep the angels a safe distance away, they’d die anyway, along with their rescuers.

  He hoped Daniel was faring better.

  Daniel finally got his bearings and thought he knew where he was. Directly ahead of him was the building he and Ricardo had agreed to be their central command building. It was huge, white and marble, with giant ornate columns. This single building probably outweighed and cost more than the rest of the complex combined. Angelnomics, Daniel thought. Only the best for humanity’s keepers. He had just started up the front steps when instinct told him to duck.

  An explosive shell whistled over his head and exploded about thirty meters behind him. When Daniel looked up, he saw an armored angel step out the door. Too soon! he thought. Then he realized it was alone.

  Of course the commandant would have a personal suit.

  “Daniel Cho,” the angel said through its amplified loudspeaker. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you’ve come to turn yourself in?”

  Daniel smiled and raised his grenade launcher.

  Instead of making a move to dodge or fight back, the angel just stood there. “Please, human. That might make a difference against a normal angel, but it will hardly dent my armor. What are you going to do, pummel me with it?”

  Sort of, you smug bastard. Daniel adjusted his aim and fired a grenade into the marble column next to the angel. It collapsed, bringing tons of marble crashing down on the commandant as Daniel leapt aside. When the dust cleared, only the angel’s armored head and shoulders were in view.

  “Now,” Daniel said, “about that pummeling?” He aimed the launcher squarely at the angel’s head.

  “Faster!” Ricardo screamed. His men were running out of grenades, and he was running out of men. Only Bob and a few others still stood, while many of the others that still lived did so only if Ricardo could get them medical attention quickly enough. The only good part of his situation was that most of the prisoners were free.

  He checked his watch. Two more minutes until the cut off. He and the trucks had to be out of the complex and to the camouflaged safe havens within five, or the flying angels would spot them.

  “Go!”

  Bob crept over to him. The mute gave the hand signal to go. The loading was complete.

  �
��We’re out of here!” Ricardo shouted. He made his way to the nearest truck, Bob providing cover fire, as he then provided for Bob. The instant the large man was in the truck it lurched forward and Ricardo shut the reinforced back door.

  They had done it.

  Daniel ran through the complex, trying to make it to the exit before the armor arrived.

  As he ran along the outer fence, he saw the trucks receding in the distance. Good for them, he thought. Now if only I can survive this.

  He heard them before he saw them. The deep thundering roar of the angels wing-mounted rockets. He looked at his watch. Damn, they’re early!

  He was only fifty meters from the exit, but it was all open ground. He got as close as he could to the nearest building, and waited for the angels to land. If they landed near the exit, he was dead.

  Fate smiled on him. From the sound of their rockets, they landed near the Command Center, probably to check with the commandant before combing the area.

  Daniel took the opportunity to race into the southern California desert, where the others waited for the angels to fly away again.

  A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

  The trucks lurched into the Underground headquarters later that night, moving from their hiding places only after the thunder of the angels’ rockets had long faded away to the north. Daniel and Ricardo were among the first off the trucks, and helped with the unloading. A lot of people didn’t make it, both prisoners and rescuers. Among the dead was Bob, who died of a chest wound in transit. Ricardo took the news calmly, then went to his office, the planning room.

  Daniel followed. “That was a little cold, don’t you think?”

  Ricardo sat down behind his desk, the only substantial piece of furniture in the room other than the conference table, and pulled out a bottle of tequila. He uncapped it and took a swig straight from the bottle. “Yeah, probably. Bob was the first person I met in the Underground, the one that brought me here in the first place, just like he brought you. But I thought you understood, Daniel. This is war. People die. It’s inevitable. We saved more people than we lost tonight, so in my book that’s a victory. Bob will be missed.”

  Ricardo took a long pull from the bottle. “But the war goes on.”

  Daniel walked out of the office and returned to the trucks. Just outside the nearest truck, an emergency medical station had been set up. Daniel saw two men lowering a third into a chair. “What’s the problem?” Daniel asked.

  One of the lowerers looked up, and stood up straight when he recognized Daniel. “Diabetic, sir. He says he’s having a sugar reaction.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Daniel said.

  “Animals,” the diabetic said. “They were animals.”

  Daniel knelt by the man. “Excuse me?”

  Someone brought over a syringe and a vial of insulin. Daniel watched as the man carefully measured out his dosage, then shot it into his left leg. Only then did the man relax.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m in a bit of a snit. Lewis Malone.”

  “Daniel Cho.” They shook hands. The man’s grip was firm and strong.

  “I was in that hell hole for only three days, but not once did they allow me any insulin. They knew I was a diabetic, but—”

  “That was the point, sir,” Daniel said. “The whole reason for that place is to remove those Michael considers genetically defective from the gene pool. With most people, the angels have to exterminate them eventually. With people dependant on medication to survive, they can just ignore you until you die. It’s even worse for hemophiliacs. I’m told they don’t often make it to the cells. They’re cut coming off the bus, and bleed to death right there in the courtyard.”

  “Animals,” Malone said again.

  “Are you feeling any better now?” Daniel asked, gesturing to the syringe.

  “Much,” Malone said. “Thank you.”

  Daniel smiled and moved on. A couple of people were trying to help an old man down from the next truck, but he was having none of it.

  “Get your hands off me? What do I look like, an invalid? I can get down on my own!”

  Seeing he was the last one in the truck, Daniel waved the helpers away and sat on the edge of the truck. The old man stood and stared at him.

  Daniel returned the stare. “So you going to get down or not?”

  Looking daggers at Daniel, the old man tried to clamber over the edge, but lost his footing. Daniel was there instantly to gently lower the man to the ground. The old man shook off the assistance. “I knew what I was doing!”

  Daniel nodded, then leaned against the truck. “Mmm hmm. So what’s a spry youngster like you doing in a Care Center?”

  The man started to answer, then stopped himself to take a closer look at Daniel. “Wait a second,” he said. “I know you. You’re that demon catcher guy, Chang, Chong … Cho! Daniel Cho!”

  Daniel took a small, perfunctory bow.

  The old man stuck out his hand. “Ira Rosenbaum. Pleased to meet you.”

  Daniel shook the man’s hand, then repeated his question. “What were you in for?”

  “Eh,” the man said, waving dismissively. “With those thugs, who needs a reason anymore? Something wrong with my genes, they said. It doesn’t matter. They don’t need excuses anymore, come on, they run the planet, for crying out loud.”

  Ira looked around, then leaned closer to Daniel. “I’ll tell you something. It isn’t just medical anymore. A few weeks before they took me, I noticed some problems with my neighbor. Nice guy, typical overworked gentile. He must have worked twelve-hour days at some big shot business in the city, not counting the commute, and most weekends too. He didn’t spend much time at home, and the wife worked too. Over time, the man’s lawn got a bit messy. One night, an angel dropped by in one of their big golden cars and told him to mow his lawn. The guy said okay, but you know the type; he forgot. A few days later I hear this big commotion over there at night. I get up the next morning and the guy and his family are gone.

  “My parents, they told me stories about times like these. They lived in Poland in the late thirties, early forties. They survived the camps, even managed to stay together, but most of their friends weren’t so lucky. I just thank God neither of them is alive to see what the world’s become, to see the madness has returned.”

  Daniel said nothing; he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound trite.

  “Well, thanks for the rescue, Mister Cho. I gotta find the john. Excuse me.” The old man wandered off, loudly asking the way to the facilities. Deep in thought, Daniel watched him go.

  An hour or two later, after all the trucks were unloaded and moved out, a sense of calm returned to the Underground. Any plans of a victory party were squashed by the reminders of the enormous cost of the rescue, and soon everything was squared away again. Which was exactly what Lewis Malone was waiting for.

  Soon after he was deemed okay and left alone, he began exploring the building. He found what he was looking for after only fifteen minutes of searching. A tiny niche behind some huge wooden packing crates, it was dark and out of the way, the perfect hiding place. From his pants pocket, Malone took a small electronic device. After turning it on, he carefully placed it in the corner, out of sight.

  Walking away from the device, Malone’s eyes sought out Daniel Cho. The rebel stood near a group of the others. Malone was disgusted with the rebel’s smug attitude, and the deference the others gave him. But that would all change soon enough.

  Breach of Faith

  This is Susan Richardson, with this Heavenly News Update.

  “Tragedy struck last night as improperly stored fuel in a motorpool caused an explosion in a Care Center south of Los Angeles. Authorities believe that a fire broke out late last night which in turn caused multiple barrels of gasoline to explode. The explosive force and fire devastated the compound resulting in the fatalities of most of the patients, as well as many of their angelic caretakers. Though internal combustion engines have long been outlaw
ed for personal vehicles, they are still legal and common for industrial use. Michael is personally looking into the incident, and has said that steps will be taken to insure that it never happens again.

  “Rumors that the explosions were the result of an Underground terrorist assault are completely unfounded, and should be ignored.”

  Susan was miserable. She realized shortly after Daniel had left that he’d been right after all, and that she’d been too blinded by all the perceived good the angels had done to see it. The very day Michael declared Daniel a heretic, Susan began looking into the allegations Daniel had made.

  The results shocked and angered her, but she stayed, thinking she could help more by being the voice of reason in the media, by trying to tone down the angels from the inside. The world had been through so much death and chaos, she didn’t want to start another revolution.

  She’d tried to do all those things, but in the end, she had to admit nothing had changed. If anything, things had gotten worse the longer Michael was in power, and she remained nothing more than a puppet, her only consolation that she, unlike so many others, could see the strings.

  Susan knew quite well what had happened the night before. She knew the rumors she’d just told people to discount were the real truth, the truth she’d sworn as a journalist to tell. She knew what the Care Centers were, she knew what the Underground had done, and she knew, even though she had no proof whatsoever, that Daniel had been there.