Between Heaven and Hell

by Jeff Kirvin

  “We’re here,” Manuel said. “My office.”

  The “office” was a plywood shack inside one of the largest tunnels. Manuel opened the door and ushered Daniel inside. The interior was sparsely decorated, all the furniture obviously pillaged from junk heaps and dumpsters. Daniel noticed none of this. He was busy smiling at the man behind the ancient steel desk.

  Jack Harris, his old second in command, stood up and gave Daniel a quick salute. “Good to see you, Colonel.”

  Jack had turned down a posting at Heaven, instead preferring to retire and enjoy the newfound peace. At least that’s what he had said at the time.

  “I had a bad feeling about the angels from the beginning,” he said to Daniel and Manuel, the three of them crowded around Manuel’s desk. “Something that occurred to me while we were in Hell. Heinrich and I were pinned down, just about out of grenades, and facing more demons than we had a chance of destroying. Just when I was sure our numbers were up, the angels arrived in their shiny white armor and blew the demons to smithereens, never even glancing our way to see if we were all right.

  “And I noticed something. The demons never stood a chance. With the firepower and protection of that armor, the angels could have destroyed Hell and everything in it long before they actually did. Why did they wait?

  “I started thinking more and more that it wasn’t a coincidence that the angels didn’t make their move until after the United States government fell apart. They weren’t waiting until they were ready to attack. They were waiting until we had no choice but to accept them.”

  Daniel slumped back in his seat and exhaled sharply. “That’s it,” he said. “I knew for the whole year I lived in Michael’s golden trophy that there was something about them that didn’t sit right, something over and above their smug self-righteousness, but I could never put my finger on it. That was it.”

  “I wanted nothing to do with them,” Jack continued, “but I kept an eye on the news, or what that damn toady Richardson chose to report. When I saw that you’d left and been declared a heretic, I not only knew I was right, but that you’d seen it too, or something worse. Given what’s happened in the last twelve months, I gather it was worse.”

  “So why didn’t you come to L.A.?” Daniel asked.

  “I was busy. I’ve spent the last several months setting up the Underground in Chicago. I flew down here two weeks ago because I didn’t want the angels getting suspicious if I flew into Los Angeles. I had just arranged with Manuel for ground transport to your L.A. headquarters when we got word you were coming here.”

  Manuel leaned forward. “So what now, amigos?”

  Daniel brought his hand to his face and stroked his chin. “I think it’s time for a town meeting.”

  Daniel’s “town meeting” took nearly a week of frenzied activity to set up. When all was said and done, they had the leader of every Underground branch in the world online for a conference over the Internet, the one form of media Michael had been unable to control. Through the use of audio encoding, the final result was one gigantic conference call.

  “Greetings, and thanks for doing this,” Daniel began into the microphone. “By now, I’m sure many or most of you are aware of what happened a week ago in Los Angeles. This latest attack has brought into sharp relief the need for a coordinated effort from the Underground. Our random strikes and acts of defiance aren’t really getting us anywhere, and it just pisses them off. So what I’d like first is a sense of the room. What is the angelic occupation like outside southern California?”

  One by one, the other leaders gave Daniel a progress report of their situation.

  In China and most of the Far East, the angels held their position through intimidation and violent oppression when necessary. The Asian mythology didn’t allow for the same reverent grace period the angels enjoyed in Christian/Jewish/Muslim countries, so the angels had resorted to time tested political methods.

  Australia and New Zealand fell to the same religious and political pressures as most of Europe, but the angels kept a heavier hand there because of the geographic isolation. Sydney had become a police state after a few public protests, and the penalties for disobedience of the angels’ edicts were swift and fierce.

  The angels were particularly merciless in India, where they took a no nonsense approach to controlling its nearly one billion inhabitants. Angels rarely appeared there without armor, and they had a habitual practice of sweeping the streets clean of vagrants with their flame-throwers.

  Africa was well under control. The Muslim population had gone along with Michael’s wishes very early, and had thus been spared the purging endured by the Indians and Chinese. The angels had recently been increasing their patrols, and invoking ever more strict regulations, but by and large the people obeyed.

  Europe was hit harder than anyone but the Japanese by the fall of the United States economy, and thus relied heavily upon the angels to rebuild. The angels were as dominant a presence in Europe as they were in North America, and the Europeans had similar problems organizing their resistance movement.

  South America found itself in an angelic stranglehold. The vast majority of the population was Catholic, and had initially done anything the angels asked. Only much later did they realize that the angels didn’t value much in South America, and that the people had only succeeded in caging themselves at the angels’ behest. The angels were rarely seen in South America, but order was strictly maintained by religiously fanatical human dictators left in place by the angels.

  Elsewhere in North America, the situation was much the same as in California. People led their daily lives without much interference by the angels, so long as they stayed firmly within the increasingly confining rules. Those that rebelled, or forgot the rules, were swiftly removed from society. Even jaywalkers were often carted away by police and seldom seen again.

  When the last person stopped talking, Daniel was quiet for a long moment. “We need to organize a counteroffensive,” he said at last. “A world wide effort coordinated to weaken the angels until we can assault Heaven itself.”

  “Who will lead such an effort?” asked the representative of the British Underground.

  “We’ll have to elect one, I guess,” said Daniel. “The important thing is that the strikes be concurrent. We have to force them to divide their forces. Even they can’t be everywhere at once and be effective.”

  “We must put this to a vote,” said the representative from Nigeria. “We’ll get back to you.”

  One by one, they disconnected, leaving Daniel sitting by the computer and looking questioningly at Ricardo, Manuel and Jack.

  Jihad

  The reply came quicker than Daniel expected. Unanimously, the other leaders of the Underground had elected him as their leader, and they now waited for his orders to attack.

  Daniel quickly called a meeting with his War Council, as he’d come to think of Ricardo, Manuel and Jack.

  “Any suggestions on what we do first?” he asked.

  Jack was the first to speak. “The Underground isn’t big enough for the synchronous assault you mentioned, at least not yet. Thanks to the angels’ propaganda campaign, a lot of folks don’t even know we exist, and most of those that do think we’re a disorganized rabble of troublemakers.”

  “We aren’t?” Manuel asked.

  Daniel smiled and said, “I’d like to think not, Manuel, but Jack’s right. We need better press and more recruits if we’re going to make this work.”

  “What about your friend Richardson?” Ricardo asked.

  Daniel shook his head. “Susan’s in too deep. Even if she believes me now, and she didn’t a year ago, I don’t think she’ll openly defy Michael like that. There has to be another way.”

  “What if we just make an announcement?” Manuel asked.

  “What do you have in mind,” Jack asked, “paper fliers?”

  “I was thinking television,” Manuel said. “I used to be an engineer at one of the local network affiliates. I
know how to do a satellite uplink, and how to run the equipment in the studio.”

  “You can get us on the angels’ satellite broadcast?” Ricardo asked.

  Manuel shrugged. “For a few minutes, probably. More than that I don’t know. They’ll probably catch on pretty quick and block us out.”

  “A few minutes is all we need. Just enough for a declaration of war,” Daniel said.

  The other three men stared at Daniel as he laid out his plan.

  Two days later, they sat in a van a block away from the television station where Manuel had recently been employed.

  “Everyone knows their assignments,” Daniel asked.

  Everyone in the van gave an affirmative reply. In addition to Daniel, Manuel, Ricardo and Jack, there were four other Underground members, all technical staff that like Manuel, who used to work in television.

  “All right, then,” Daniel said. “Let’s move.”

  On Daniel’s signal, the van pulled up to the service entrance of the studio building. Daniel and his men filed out and into the building with military precision. The instant they were inside, Jack fired a round from his rifle into the ceiling.

  The gathered technicians and crew in the backstage area froze as Daniel stepped forward. “My name is Daniel Cho,” he said with authority, “and we’re with the Underground. We’d like to borrow your equipment for a while.”

  The only reply Daniel received was silence as everyone in the building stepped away from their posts. No one made a move to stop them as they commandeered the cameras in the news studio. Daniel looked at Manuel in the control booth, and Manuel gave him the thumbs up.

  This is it, Daniel thought. As Jack and Ricardo watched the doors, Daniel took his place behind the news desk. Manuel gave a signal to the camera operator, who then waved four fingers at Daniel, then three, then two, then one.

  “Greetings. I’m Daniel Cho.

  “For the last two years, the collected people of Earth have lived under the oppression of an immortal dictator. We in the Underground have pledged to change that.

  “Most of you don’t know what’s really going on. Many of you have seen loved ones and friends shipped off to Care Centers for the treatment of various genetic illnesses and defects. What you don’t know is that these Care Centers are in actuality death camps where Michael intends to remove those he considers genetically defective from the gene pool.

  “In India, angels regularly clear the streets with flame-throwers. In Sydney, Australia, those that dared to publicly protest angelic regulation were killed where they stood.

  “In the name of order, Michael is weeding out the best of humanity. Under his regime, people like Steven Hawking or Ludwig von Beethoven would never have existed. We can’t allow this to continue.

  “Throughout human history, people have fought for the cause of freedom. We fight now not for the freedom from oppressions of the present, however terrible they might be. We fight for the freedom of the future. The freedom to decide for ourselves what’s best for humanity. There is no greater need in all creation, and no greater threat in our thousands of years of history than the one Michael poses right now.

  “The Arab people have a word for a holy war: Jihad. That’s what we’re fighting, whether the average person knows it or not. We’re fighting for the soul of mankind, and for future generations’ ability to express it.

  “We now declare an official war, the Angelic Jihad, and we will not stop until mankind is free!

  “So I beg of you, good people, join us. Help regain your freedom before it’s too late. Many of you can already feel Michael’s noose tightening…”

  Michael’s face was a bright red, and veins stood out sharply on his forehead. “How is he doing this?”

  “Unknown, my Lord,” replied one of the angels in Michael’s court. “He must have spliced into a satellite feed.”

  “And no one can stop it?” Michael asked, a million threats unspoken in his voice.

  “We’re trying, my Lord, but—”

  Just then the screen went black.

  “We found him, my Lord,” came a voice over the intercom. “The transmission originated in San Diego. Once we found it, it was a simple matter to mask it out—”

  “Yes, fine,” Michael said. “Gabriel, get going and bring him to me!” Michael turned for confirmation, but Gabriel was already gone.

  Daniel became aware of the cameraman signaling to him. “What?”

  Manuel’s voice came down over the speakers from the control room. “We’ve been blocked,” he said. “I told you we wouldn’t have much time.”

  Daniel was already removing his clip-on microphone. “It was enough,” he said. “We’re out of here.” The Underground left the television studio as swiftly as they arrived.

  Gabriel and four other angels, all clad in armor, burst into the television studio. “Where are they?” demanded Gabriel.

  No one spoke for a long moment, then the lead technician stepped forward. “They’re gone, sir. They left about fifteen minutes ago, as soon as the transmission was cut.”

  Gabriel stood and smoldered. “Why didn’t any of you notify the proper authorities when they first arrived?”

  Again, the intimidated humans were not forthcoming with answers. Gabriel stepped forward and lifted the lead technician off his feet. “Answer me!” Gabriel shouted, his armor-amplified voice echoing through the studio.

  “Th-th-they had us under gunpoint,” the technician stammered.

  Gabriel dropped the technician to the floor. “No excuse. One of you could have reached a phone.” He turned to his second in command, Azrael, the Angel of Death. “Execute every human in this building for harboring a known heretic.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” replied Azrael.

  The room grew cold as Gabriel turned to leave. Near the door, he stopped. “Azrael,” he said.

  “Yes, my Lord?”

  “Do it on camera,” Gabriel said, still facing the door. “I want the world to know the price of offering the aid Cho just requested.”

  “Where will you be?” Azrael asked.

  Though the massive shoulders of the armor didn’t move, Gabriel seemed to deflate a bit. “I have to go explain to Michael why we’ve failed him again.”

  With the heavy thud of armored footsteps, Gabriel exited the building as Azrael and the others closed in on the doomed humans.

  First Offensive

  Susan Richardson had caught every word of Daniel’s broadcast. It played on her worst fears, but she had to be sure. That’s how she found herself crammed into a ventilation shaft leading directly into Michael’s throne room. She had to hear it for herself. She had waited for one of Michael’s private meetings with Gabriel, then moved to listen in. Now she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to hear it.

  “Progress is slow,” Michael said, “but it’s working.”

  “According to schedule?” Gabriel asked.

  “Not exactly. Figure four or five generations to weed out the genetically unfit. Not quite the three we’d hoped for, but progress just the same. In one hundred to one hundred fifty years, we will have bred out all the known genetic defects and abnormalities in the human race. After that, it’s just a question of maintenance.”

  “Maintenance?”

  “A child can be genetically tested for random mutations while still in the womb. If it doesn’t meet standards, we destroy it and the parents start over.”

  “That’s not going to go over well,” Gabriel observed.

  “Nonsense,” Michael said. “This petty rebellion will die quickly enough once you finally deliver Cho’s head to my desk, and in a few generations time the humans will do what we tell them without question. We could probably even order the parents to destroy the child themselves, but that wouldn’t be as efficient.”

  “You think the humans would destroy their own child?”

  “If we told them to. Besides, the practice has been part of the human tradition for thousands of years already, for things as mi
nor as being the wrong sex, or simply because the parent couldn’t be bothered to raise a child. We’re not telling them to do anything they don’t already do.”

  Gabriel was silent for a moment, then, “How many chances do they get?”

  “For what?”

  “To produce healthy offspring.”

  “Three, I think. After that, they’re sterilized.”

  Michael paused a moment. “On second thought, they should be destroyed. If they can’t contribute to the following generation in three tries, they shouldn’t be allowed to continue draining society’s resources.”

  Susan had heard enough. As she crawled back the way she came, she tried to think of as many ways as she could to use her position to help Daniel and the Underground.

  To some extent, the initial stage of Daniel’s plan had worked. Over the past few weeks, the San Diego Underground had steadily gained members, and Daniel had been informed by the other leaders that the effect was similar worldwide, even more pronounced in hard hit areas. The Indian Underground had nearly tripled in size. The Underground was quickly nearing the size required for phase two, a full scale, worldwide assault of key angelic bases. The vast majority of Daniel’s time was devoted to planning the offensive, to the point that Jack or Ricardo frequently had to force him to stop and eat or sleep.

  Though he never mentioned it, Daniel was terrified. On the rare occasions he let himself step back from the details of the assault and look at the big picture, the concept nearly knocked him flat. The whole world, six billion people, depended on him to help them win their independence. He’d developed an ulcer over the last week, and in the few hours he slept he had frequent nightmares of what would happen if they failed.

  The weight of the world was literally on his shoulders.

  He was pouring over maps and schedules around two A.M. one morning when Jack walked into his office.

  “Morning, boss.”