by Bob Williams
“Boxing analogies? From Heaven?” I ask.
“We have been reeling for the last two of your Regular years. The demon Chaos is not the only demonic force we are contending with. We, in essence, are just now beginning to fight back. I was to observe, as I said, the MSZ and report back on whether this was a position we needed to fortify in the continuing war against The Eighty-Eight.”
“How did you become known as the Network?” asks Cole.
“I might be able to help with that,” says Shields. “Malcolm appeared to us, the Three, when we were in a private session. He expressed that he had been sent to observe us, but felt that so much more was going on here for the perpetuation of good and the sanctity of life, that he offered us his assistance.”
“I told her the Murfreesboro Safe Zone was being considered as a Point of Light, and that my observations and findings could lead to a permanent protective detail from Heaven’s Guard. Until such time as I reported back to Heaven, I vowed to use my… abilities to assist the MSZ with any information I could uncover to help their cause. However, I am not omniscient.”
“Malcolm was of tremendous aid to us on numerous occasions,” says Shields. “He was able to determine safe travel routes for vital humanitarian aid to pockets of Regulars. He was also able to make communication possible to those pockets so that we, in essence, had a viable network. Michael saved countless lives in service to the MSZ.”
“Is that so?
I hope you’re ready, Malcolm. Here comes the billion-dollar question.
I’ve been waiting for it.
“What did you do to help our brothers and sisters of the MSZ when Kade and his Freak army came calling? Because no lives were saved by Malcolm on this occasion. So what did you do, Malcolm? Please tell us.
“I did nothing.”
“Malcolm…,” is all Shields can say.
“You. Did. What?” blasts Cole. He ejects himself from his seat as if by a giant spring and flies at the angel.
Malcolm’s wings appear and he flies backwards, well out of the reach of the out-of-control Michael Cole. Shields goes to him, drops to one knee, and embraces Cole. Their friend, the so-called Network, who had been helping them while spending time among them, had stood by and let everyone they knew die. At least, that’s what it looked like.
“What’s the fuckin’ story, Malcolm? It doesn’t look to good for you right now, my winged friend,” I say. “Is this how an angel falls? Did you already fall? Do you have any powers at all? Besides flying?”
“Listen, before this gets out of hand.”
It’s way out of hand, dude. You’re up shit creek without a paddle! And there’s a lot of shit getting in your boat.
YOU ARE NOT HELPING!
Then help yourself and tell us what the hell happened. And why.
“Michael Cole, what happened here was a tragedy. It not only weighs on you and Laura, who came after the fact, but the horror, the violence, the death, destruction, and base cruelty that took place here will haunt me for a thousand years. I understand that you will never understand, nor forgive me, but I cannot fight.
“Michael Mr. Cole, I am an angel of Heaven, yes. But I follow orders just as you did with your Army Rangers, and you, too, Mr. Prescott. When you were a marine fighting in Fallujah, how many of your comrades in arms just decided not to follow orders?”
“Do not bring me into this,” I say. “These were not my friends. I wasn’t in the trenches surviving with them daily. These people were their family! You want to know what you should have done? You break your damn code, and you help them!”
“It’s not that simple,” Malcolm says. “Laura? You must understand. I cannot fight. It is expressly forbidden. Even what I was doing was forbidden. I am to observe and record.”
“GET. OUT. OF. HERE!” screams Cole.
Shields rises slowly from where she’s been comforting Cole and crosses the room to Malcolm. “I think you should leave now,” she says through streaming tears. “You are no longer welcome here, Malcolm.”
“Laura, please. I wanted to help. I couldn’t have stopped them all, regardless. I wouldn’t have survived.”
Wrong answer, jackass. You aren’t the smartest angel, are you?
“Then you never truly understood what we were doing here to begin with. Please, Malcolm, go. Now!”
“I think you better go, pal,” I say. “Maybe we all can try and talk again later, but you need to go. Now, like she said.”
Malcolm’s face is a mask of pure dejection. He’s fallen from the mantel of awe and inspiration to complete rejection. He turns slowly and walks towards the door. I can’t claim to understand how it works, but when he wasn’t flying, his wings simply weren’t there. After he exits the building, he looks somberly to the sky and flies away.
“Listen, you two,” I say, “we need him if we’re going to stop Kade. I’m not saying you have to like him, you can hate is his everlovin’ guts if you want, but we can’t do this without him.”
“What are you talking about, Prescott?” Cole snaps. “What this could you possibly mean? We have no shot in hell of stopping Kade. Not anymore. We are three people against an army of bloodthirsty Freaks. We’re outgunned, outmanned, we have no plan, and we have no shot!”
“He’s right,” says Shields. “We just need to pack up what we can and fall back to a new safe zone. What about your friend, Jay, in Normal? Would he take us in?”
“I’m sure he would, no doubt,” I say. “Jay is always on the lookout for more hands. He’s got several irons in the fire when it comes to the war on Freaks. But Shields, Laura, you can’t cut and run now. Especially not now.”
“You heard Cole. He’s right,” she says. “We don’t have the personnel or the weapons to launch any kind of offensive whatsoever. This fully staffed safe zone couldn’t defend itself from Kade’s forces. What in the name of all that’s holy makes you think that three people could take him down?”
“Four,” I say.
“Four what?” says Shields.
“There are four of us. Three Regulars plus one angel.”
“Fuck you, Prescott,” interjects Cole from the floor, where he still looks dazed.
“What is wrong with you people? Why am I willing to fight for a hundred and fifty dead people I don’t even know? Your friends! Your family! You two are a couple of fucking cowards!”
“NO!” Cole roars with a primal rage very reminiscent of my own from The 88. He’s up faster than I thought possible and clears the space between us in seconds. I can’t connect the dots to defend myself before he’s on me. Cole tackles me to the ground, straddles my chest, and throws wild haymakers at my face and head. I block the meat of the punches with my forearms but my lights are flickering.
“How dare you, Prescott!” he screams. “How God damn dare you! You have a lot of nerve to spew that kinda crap to us. You rolled into town with a built-in death wish and everyone else be damned. How dare you…!” He’s heaving heavily and losing steam fast. I don’t think he’s expended this much energy in a long time. “…try and claim, in any fashion that you care for our friends more than we do. Because you don’t. Damn you, Prescott. Damn you…” He stops throwing punches, gets up off of me, and walks away.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” Shields says. With that, she walks away in the opposite direction from Cole. I guess I just inadvertently broke up the band. I stand in the center of the room with my hand on my forehead, contemplating how badly I just screwed up this entire situation. Well, Malcolm started the fire, I just poured ten gallons of gas on it. What the hell am I going to do now? I have a few guns, no friends, an impossible mission, and a rocket on top of my Jeep.
Oh! A rocket on top of my Jeep. A rocket… on top… of my Jeep. Come here, crazy plan. Come on. Come here. Yes! Lexi saunters over and nudges me with her muzzle. I looked down at the beautiful German Shepherd, who in just a couple of days has made a serious impact on my heart. I smile at her.
“I have a suici
dal plan, Lex. I doubt I’ll make it through. Are you with me?”
She barks enthusiastically. My heart melts. I don’t want to think about anything happening to my dog. But I’m not going to leave her with anyone one else. We found each other at a critical juncture in both of our lives and we are already bound together. There’s no one or the other. From now on, we are going to face every challenge together.
“Okay, girl. Let’s go to the Jeep and see about some food. Then I have to make a call.”
It’s getting well into the evening and neither Cole, Shields, or Malcolm have returned to the student union. After several hours of sitting in silence, Lexi and I decide to go back to the Jeep. I make my call and am pleased with the result. All I have to do now is wait. This, of course, was never my strong suit.
I boil a box of plain spaghetti and Lexi and I eat like royalty, except not really. In the end, I give Lexi most of mine because, well, she’s a growing girl and needs her sustenance. I can shoot somebody’s ass but she needs to be able to rip their throat out. I mean, come to think of it, I’ve never seen a Freak-dog before. But on the other hand, do I really want to risk it?
I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore. I need to go to sleep.
Was that my thought or Malcolm’s? I climb into the Jeep and whistle for Lexi to jump up. I lower the seat backs, and while it’s a bit short, I have to admit it feels nice, just Lexi and me. Comfortable. Safe. I turn on the fog lights for a measure of safety. Maybe the Freaks won’t be able to tell we’re sleeping.
I drift off with Lexi’s head across my lap and my hand resting on the scruff of her neck.
NIGHTMARES AND DREAMSCAPES
I stir in my sleep and eventually the cramped space and sixty-pound dog make sleep impossible. I open the door, ease out from under Lexi, and step out into… somewhere. The lights on the fog light bar flicker briefly, then die, but sight is not a problem, as the sky is a stunning canvas of radiant red hues mixed with dark orange. It’s pretty damn hot, too, and I’m sweating rather profusely after only a few steps. Where am I going? Don’t know. I have no idea where I am.
It’s difficult to trust my eyes because I truly don’t know what’s happening, but surveying the land in a 360-degree turn, I see desert. A very flat desert with sparse vegetation. Just a handful of cactuses and very little foliage for as far as I can see. Oh, and my Jeep with Lexi inside has vanished into the heat waves radiating from the blistering grains of sand.
I start walking after the realization that standing still is futile. Jesus, it’s hot. There has to be some water somewhere. But if this is a dream, do I actually need water? Is this a dream? I’ve learned in the last couple of days that demons and angels exist. Along with, apparently, other planes of existence. Maybe this is one of those other planes? I simply don’t know.
I’m noticing a change in the landscape up ahead in the distance. It’s actually happening all around me. A blacktop highway is materializing under my feet and it’s leading straight ahead for an indeterminate number of miles to a mountain that is rising up out of the desert sand. Grass and vegetation begin to cover the sand until the desert scenario has dissolved altogether. The temperature is gradually dropping, and this now looks like a peaceful countryside. What the heck is going on?
This must be a dream because I haven’t walked but half a mile and I’m at the base of the mountain. I’m not wild about having to walk up this mountain, even though the road leads the way. As if on cue, the mountain erodes into the ground with massive effort but not a single sound.
In front of me is a cottage of a general design. The paint is worn and peeling. Its windows are distressed, uneven, and open. The A-frame roof is rusted metal, and the front door sits haphazardly cracked open. There are flower beds surrounding the cottage but the flowers need water, as they are dry and lifeless. Last but not least is a white picket fence that just sits in front of the cottage. There are no posts. It doesn’t travel the circumference of the property. Just one solitary line of stark white fencing. Whoever’s creating this scene really wanted this white picket fence to matter.
I guess it’s showtime. I unlatch the gate to the fence and approach the door with fairly mild apprehension. I don’t have an overwhelming feeling that I’m in danger because the backdrop has shifted favorably each time I complained about it. Somebody wants to talk to me and they chose this venue to do it. Still, something about a door in an unfamiliar situation makes me reach for my Glock. The shoulder holster and the guns are gone.
“You won’t need those, Prescott. Please, come in. We should talk about your utterly stupid plan.”
“Malcolm?”
“Yes. For goodness sakes, man, I left the door cracked. Will you please open it and come in?” he says.
I push open the door slowly and enter the sparsely decorated cottage to find Malcolm sitting at a quaint wooden dining table with two chairs. He occupies one and gestures with his hand towards the empty one. He looks different. I mean he’s still dressed in the blue jeans, boots, and navy blue button-down shirt, but how do I explain what I’m seeing? He is himself but he has changed.
“You’re right. I have changed. I’m angry. I’m conflicted.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Because you are the source of my anger. And frankly, I don’t get angry, so I’m not dealing with it well.”
“HA! Now that is rich there, Nicholas Cage. You sat on your winged ass while close to two hundred people were slaughtered and you’re mad at me? Please explain that to me.”
“I will not defend myself to you. I am an angel of the Lord and I follow the orders I am given by my Lord Commander!”
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re Jesus himself, you cannot allow even one person to die, much less over a hundred, and expect even a shred of sympathy from me or anyone else!”
“I don’t expect you or Cole, or even Shields, to understand, but if I intervene in the rightful progression of life, it could kill me. Angels are born of the light of God. We might go several millennia before gaining the privilege of walking among the humans. I have been a faithful soldier for longer than I can recall. When granted passage to the Low Lying Lands, it was with explicit instructions only to observe. No physical intervention. That was the only wiggle room there was. I can observe, report, and inform. And that is what I did.”
“And? What else?” I ask pointedly.
“What do you mean?” asks Malcolm.
“Don’t give me that crap, man. If you’ve been in my head since Chicago, you had some other assignment that involved me. Because, how the hell would you even know or care about who I was and what I was doing in The 88?”
At this, Malcolm looks totally defeated. “Mr. Prescott, you have been on the Lord Commander’s radar for some time. You are already a Point of Light, and have been since before the event you call the Descent. It is why you survived when your friend Cooper did not. It also why you walked out of The 88.”
“Had Chaos chosen to engage you physically while inhabiting your father, the result would have taken its natural course and you would’ve died. As a Point of Light, you are protected in life to perform your good deeds. But a demon as powerful as Chaos… we never saw it coming. The Descent, in your simple words, threw Heaven for a loop. Before the Descent, Heaven had what you might call an interactive map of the Low Lying Lands.”
“You mean you were able to watch Earth?”
“Yes. We, as you say, have been watching the Low Lyers for millennia. Our council has sent watchers, for lack of a better term, for equally as long. You may not feel like it, Prescott, but you are a Point of Light, and you must be protected to the maximum degree possible. The 88 stretched our resources immensely, but we got you out of there. I couldn’t do it alone. But that was a one-time occurrence. That is why I brought you here. To explain to you without interference from any outside sources. If you proceed with the plan you have forged, you will die. And if you die, countless acts of heroism, kindness, and se
rvitude that you haven’t performed yet will die with you. Kendrick Kade is not your fight. I can fully understand that hearing this from me is… discouraging. But you must listen.”
Malcolm locks eyes with me. “Kade is different,” Malcolm says. “He is what you would call a Freak, but he’s… different.”
“You said that already.”
“Damn it, Prescott, listen! He doesn’t just have the essence of Chaos… it is more like… a piece. I can’t stress this enough. If you confront him alone, you will die.”
“Fair enough. I guess you better come with me.”
“I do not, I will not fight!”
“Fine. I get it. You’re a pussy. I’d like to wake up now. This is pointless.”
I turn and walk back towards the door to the cottage. As I walk out, the scene blurs like a drunk artist’s abstract painting. I close my eyes because my stomach is starting to turn upside down. The last thing I hear is Malcolm shouting.
“Your plan will fail! Do not do this!”
I wake up with a start, Malcolm’s voice still ringing in my head. I don’t have time to fuck around anymore.
“Come on, Lexi, we need to get to the bottom of this right now.”
I open the door and move to hop right out but oh, my God, my body hurts in every possible way from sleeping in the cramped quarters of the Jeep.
“Okay, so we take a minute and walk it off. Right, girl? You seem just fine. What? You didn’t have a nice countryside chat with Rin Tin Tin last night?” She looks at me, confused. “Dammit. All right, girl. Come on.”
Lexi and I stride somewhat confidently down the hall, back towards the front lobby of the student union. She has no idea what the plan is, but she’s going to follow me wherever I go. Damn fine dog Cory Stalker had. I’m glad he didn’t pull the trigger.
Our long walk down the hallway shows brand new destruction. There’s a ton of shattered glass everywhere. Middle Tennessee State University should’ve really reconsidered all the glass. But then again, I guess their design never factored in the fall of society and stark raving mad half-breed lunatics.
