by Bob Williams
“Silence! You will be silent. You are a fool, Prescott. You think I don’t know your games? I have known you your entire life. You are stalling. Attempting to delay your inevitable fate. You are nothing. You were always nothing. A story. A myth. But you will be no more.”
My stall tactic works for just as long as I need it to, but something happens that I never would’ve expected in a lifetime of this scenario. As Chaos raises his hand for the death stroke, that little bit of light I mentioned, Malcolm, my friend the angel, goes right into my mouth, down my throat, and straight to my heart.
I’ve never been struck by lightning, nor have I ever met anyone who’s been struck to ask them, but I imagine it felt a lot like this. But purely good. I mean, I am filled with goodness from the tips of my toes all the way to my brain. Malcolm grows within me in a spiritual form, which plants itself like a seed in my heart and grows throughout my body exponentially fast. I feel his fingers race down my arms and slide into my hands as if they were gloves. And his feet step into my feet, healing my fracture and making that leg better than it ever was. Finally, his sight locks in behind my eyes and my body takes on a very subtle illumination. My body is healed. Completely. All of this happens in seconds and I—we are ready to fight.
I catch the blade fist of Chaos in my left hand and rock him with an uppercut with my right. He stumbles backward several steps and falls to the ground.
“Yeah!” I yell.
Stay focused. I have my orders.
What orders?
We leave Chaos for the moment and run to the aid of Cole and Shields. We help them both stand. The Freak guards, who had been so enamored with Kade/Chaos, now cower or scatter in our presence. I instinctively know to place my hand over Cole’s open ear canal and simply desired a new ear to grow. And it does. Cole looks at me and asks, “Where do you need me?”
“Clear the stage. We’ll stage our offensive from here,” we say.
“Got it.”
We turn to Shields. She looks at me, the tears fresh on her face. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
I put my hand over her gunshot wound and will the bullet to exit her body and fall into my hand. Her wound, as well as any internal damage, is healed.
“What do you need me to do?” she asks.
Can we do what I’m thinking about doing?
You can.
I reach back over my shoulder, produce a beam of pure light, and hold it in my hand. I close my grip and think about what I want to be there when I open it. I hand her a steel katana, whose blade is so sharp it could have easily defeated Vizzini in a battle of wits.
“Find Ortiz,” I tell her. “I need you to cut one of the heads off this two-headed monster.”
“With pleasure!” And she’s off.
Turn around, he’s getting up!
I spin around. “Oh, hey. There you are. I just sent Shields after your boy, Ortiz. Sooo… he’s fucking dead.”
Language.
Really?
Yes.
“YOU… WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU…? YOU ARE HEALED?”
“Dude, are you okay?” I ask. “You sound perplexed. I’ve never heard a master demon from another plain of existence sound confused. You want to know how I’m healed? The Network, motherfucker.”
“NO!” Chaos charges at me, and I return the favor. We crash into each other and proceed to brawl like, you know, back in the day. In the schoolyard. Except he’s a demon with foot-long blades for fingernails, and I have an angel inside of me.
Can we defeat him? Or do I have a false sense security?
I don’t know.
Good enough for me.
Chaos swings his crazy blade hands in a double slashing move that I am barely able to avoid by diving out of the way. As I jump up I hear a whump, whump, whump noise coming from the sky. Chaos looks up, and I take advantage of his being distracted by kicking him in the stomach and drilling him on the side of the head.
“MSZ! This is Jay Rives of the Normal, Illinois Safe Zone. Your call for assistance has been received. Take immediate cover!”
It’s a helicopter! Jay has a helicopter! Where the hell did he get a helicopter? A massive searchlight shines down on the stage, followed by a barrage of bullets. I dive out of the way and scurry out of the line of fire.
Some friend you have there, Prescott. He’s arrived just in time to save you and kill you!
Sounds about right.
Chaos turns to me and glares.
“Another time Prescott! This is far from over!” And just like that the red-light eyes are gone.
I think I can take it from here. Thank you, Malcolm.
It wasn’t for you, Prescott.
Okay. Well, thanks, anyway.
And just as Chaos disappears from Kade, Malcolm is no longer with me. Kade and I stand face to face. Bullets are flying and Freaks are dying and we just look at each other. It’s the realization that this fight is just going to be him and me. I don’t care that he’s a Freak, or whatever he is. I’ve never actually been sure. I know he’s going down, though. It’s time to cancel his order. Take it back starts right now.
Jay lays waste to a section of Broadway with the large Gatling gun that extending from the side of his helicopter, and then he brings that baby down. Before he steps out of the bird, he bellows into the loudspeaker, “IF YOU ARE NOT A FREAK, RAISE YOUR HAND!”
Not a hand is raised. Jay and three associates form a cross and walk in all four directions away from the helicopter. They proceeded to annihilate the remaining Freak contingency with an assortment of automatic weapons fire, frag grenades, and hatchets.
What can I say? I got friends in low places.
***
Shields, katana in hand, made her way through the mayhem going on around her. Prescott’s friend, Jay, had come through as promised, and the tide had turned massively. She felt like she had options. It was obvious, at least to her, at this moment, that she had survived. She could slip away from this mess and start over somewhere. She also almost immediately understood she could not do that. She wanted to make sure Cole was okay, that he’d made it. She needed to get back to Prescott. Although her feelings were untouched by the notion of romance, she didn’t think, after what she had just witnessed, that she would ever leave his side again. He was… important.
She sliced and cut her way through Freak after Freak, looking intently for Ortiz. And there he was, running towards Robert’s Western Wear. She really felt that Prescott and Malcolm had created this katana just for her. It felt so natural. It felt like it was hers. Like it had been hers before. Not the one that had been taken from her when they arrived. No, not like that at all. Like in another life?
That’s just crazy! No, it really wasn’t. Not anymore.
She swung the door open and ran into the long-since defunct cowboy shop. She saw him rifling through old boxes, a smashed-out display case, and finally he disappeared behind a counter.
“There really isn’t anywhere for you to go, asshole. It’s time to meet your… whatever the hell. Look, I’ll even put down the sword. I want to kick your ass with my bare hands.” She tossed the katana aside. Once the sword clattered to the floor, Ortiz stood up and moved around from behind the counter. He was wearing a smile so sinister it gave Shields the chills.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
“Gladly.”
***
When I entered The 88 three days ago I saw smoke rising into the Chicago night from what turned out to be a looted, run-down grocery store. Now, as I stand on this stage, facing down Kade, the smoke is thick and pungent. Jay’s helicopter is fanning the dying flames from my rocket blast on the Big River, and has reset the blaze. It was totally apropos.
“I don’t need Chaos’s help to kill you, Prescott,” says Kade. “I’ve been raping and killing since long before the Descent. Ha! That just made it okay.”
“I pinned a lot of hate on your chest that didn’t belong to you,” I admit. �
�I thought coming to Nashville and cutting your cord would somehow make up for the wrongs that had been done to me by people you don’t know. But it turns out I was wrong. I mean, I do believe that I was supposed to come here, but not for the misguided reasons I first thought. I’m here because an intervention occurred on a level that maybe someday I’ll fully grasp, that had me in Normal to hear a radio broadcast. And ever since then, each person I’ve met along the way has convinced me that we don’t have to live this way.” I shift onto the balls of my feet.
“The Descent happened. Assholes like you and the Freaks were the result. The Dreamers? They took the easy way out. The rest of us suffered. But not anymore. My friends and I are not content with just survival. We intend to fight for our world. And it starts now! It turns out I don’t need any other reason to kill you than that you deserve to die.”
I throw a right-left combination of punches that he blocks with his forearms. He throws a roundhouse kick that hits me right in the hip. Damn! I grimace and back away a bit before re-engaging. He throws another kick that misses, then he rocks me with a punch to the side of my head. This isn’t going how I planned. Kade comes at me with a right hook that I block, but he then hits me with a left in the ribs. When I cringe from that, he comes back with right to my jaw. Down I go.
“Some hero, Prescott. You’re not even going to make it out of the first round.”
“Wanna bet?” I say. I hop up, shake off the cobwebs, and reposition myself. I have an idea. I yank off my tie and wrap a little bit of each end around each hand and grip tightly. Kade looks puzzled and makes a “whatever” gesture.
Kade feints to the outside but quickly shifts to the inside with a punch. I see it in time, block it, and send a jarring elbow to the bridge of his nose. Perfect! Kade stumbles back while the blood flows freely from his nose.
“Dammit!” Kade screams. He is pissed. And I have him right where I want him. I hope.
He charges at me with a guttural roar that is actually pretty frightening, but I stay in there. I wait till the last possible moment. He grabs for my throat with both hands and I kick him square in the balls. When he doubles over, I bring my knee up square into his jaw. It makes a sickening crunch that has him spitting blood from his ruined mouth. He’s down, hopefully for good.
I walk behind him and yoke him with my tie. “Kendrick Kade! Your reign of terror ends today!”
I take a couple more wraps of the tie-turned-garrote, throw myself backwards, and pull with all my might. My knees press between his shoulder blades while I choke the life out of him. He fights for his life, and he gargles, and he kicks. But he dies.
I drop the ends of the tie and he falls to the stage. I look out over Broadway. Fires rage, punctuated by the occasional triple urps of automatic gunfire. But what I don’t actually see anywhere is a Freak. I close my eyes and allow myself a little smile. I kneel down, pick up Kade’s body, and walk it to the edge of the stage. I throw it off. No fanfare. Just good old-fashioned taking out the trash. Out of the corner of my eye I see a figure emerging from the smoke. I instinctively go for my Glocks, but of course they aren’t there. I am resigning myself to another brawl when I realize the figure is Jay. It’s Jay!
I smile the smile of a victor and run to embrace my friend.
“You made it!”
“Yup! Wouldn’t miss it. Make ‘em think you’re weak when you’re strong. I knew nothing but good would come out of that CB.” Jay rips off a very satisfying laugh. “Where’s your crew?”
“Where, indeed,” I say. I turn and see the microphone nestled comfortably in the stand and go to it. “Michael Cole! Laura Shields! If you can hear this, come to the stage.”
“I hear you just fine,” says a voice from behind Jay and me. Again, another smoky entrance. It’s Shields. In one hand is the katana Malcolm and I gave her, and in the other is Ortiz’ head. She has a shiner under one eye, a slight nosebleed, and is a little gimpy.
“What the hell happened to him?” says Jay.
“Who, our buddy Ortiz? Well, let’s just say he brought a knife to a sword fight.”
“Have you seen Cole?” I ask.
“No, I was busy.”
“Okay, let’s find him—and Jay, let’s round up your guys.”
We start to break out towards the stairs down to the street.
“Wait! Wait a minute.” I walk back to the microphone. I tap it with one finger and am greeted with that same resounding feedback. “Nashville, Tennessee! I repeat, Nashville, Tennessee! YOU. ARE. FREE! Regulars! That shit stops today! You are HUMAN BEINGS and this is YOUR city. It is time for the humans to emerge from the shadows and write Nashville’s new history. Page one starts today!” I drop the mic and walk off stage.
Two hours later, we find Cole. Alive. He was in the kitchen of an old honky-tonk called The Stage. We find him lying atop a rather large Freak with his knife buried to the hilt in the carcass. When I first shake him he moves. Then I kick him in the ass as hard as I can and that rouses him. He looks rough. Not in life-threatening condition, but tired. Cole had killed about thirty or so—according to him—Freaks and mustered up about all he had left for the buddy we found him with, then he passed out.
Shields and I help Cole up and each of us take an arm over a shoulder. As we’re all walking out of The Stage, Cole mumbles something barely audible.
“What?”
“We all made it?”
“Yes, Michael,” says Shields.
“Damn,” he says.
“What? What’s wrong? We all made it.”
“They’ll never make a movie now.”
I shake my head and allow myself one more of those little smiles.
THE NEW PROTECTORATE
When we emerge from The Stage, we see Jay and his crew standing beside the helicopter. Cole takes the opportunity to sit in the open doorway and take a rest. Jay reaches inside, past Cole, produces a bottle of water, and hands it to him.
I extend my hand to my friend. He shakes it. “Thank you, Jay.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t put the CB in there for shits and giggles. I knew what you were coming here to do. I counted on your realizing that you couldn’t do it alone. I see you found some friends. You guys know he’s crazy, right?”
“Yes!” Cole says. “But I guess in the end, that’s why you suit up with him. Sometimes crazy’s what you need.”
“Why, Michael Cole”—I put my hand to my chest—“I do declare! You have touched my heart,” I say with a pale attempt at a Southern drawl.
He smiles. “Shut up, Prescott.”
“Well, I think it’s about time we head back to Normal,” says Jay. “I’m sure Kevin is getting concerned. You know, he really wanted to come, Prescott. Sometime I’ll have to have him tell you his crazy-ass John Wilkes Booth story. Bring beer.”
“I’m not sure this world is ready for Kevin,” I say with a laugh. I embrace my friend. “Safe travels… Oh, and where the hell did you have a helicopter stashed at that place, anyway?”
“Ha! Don’t you worry about it, Prescott. But seriously, if you ever need me, night or day, no distance too far, three-sixty-five, you call me. And because I’m your best friend ever, I brought you some gas. Should tide you over for a bit.”
“Done. And thanks, brother.”
I help Cole up out of the doorway, and the three of us back up several feet and watch them all climb into the helicopter. Jay, in the front passenger seat, puts on his headset as the pilot does the same, and he starts flipping switches. I won’t pretend I know how to fly a helicopter. The blades slowly start to rotate, then pick up speed. The black helicopter lifts up and soon disappears into the night.
Cole finds his sea legs and Shields and I hold to his pace as we walk back to the Jeep.
“When do we talk about the part where you had an angel inside you?” Cole asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I liked the part where you made a sword out of pure light,” says Shields.
“Oh, and thanks for fixing my ear, and Shields’ gunshot wound,” says Cole.
“That wasn’t me, guys. That was Malcolm. And you can’t possibly understand how close he cut it. He was not going to help us. I’m serious. We were as good as dead, until Chaos broke the plane and consumed Kade. He was cryptic. He said, “I have my orders.” The whole time I thought he meant his orders not to interfere. But now it feels like he was told to not interfere unless Chaos broke the plane, then his orders were to engage.”
“Prescott,” says Shields, “you suddenly look like bait. No. Maybe a better analogy is a pawn. You look like a pawn in a much bigger game.”
“Like between Heaven and Hell?” asks Cole.
“Yes,” I say.
“So what are you going to do now, Prescott?” asks Shields.
I think about that for a minute. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Malcolm told me that I am what’s called a Point of Light. A Point of Light is a human that the angels have deemed needs to be protected because he inherently does good deeds. The angels call this world the Low Lying Lands. We are Low Lyers. It’s my goal, starting right now, to form a new protectorate. I hope you’ll join me in starting a new movement, where the Low Lyers are free and the Freaks are on the run. I’m not stopping until Chaos is dead and BH-2014 is completely eradicated.”
“Wow. I’m slightly aroused, commander!” says Cole, and he bursts out laughing. “I’m in! Let’s do it!”
I’m almost pissed off, but darn it if one of those little smiles doesn’t creep across my face again. I turn. “Shields?”
“Sure,” she says. “Do I get to keep the sword?”
“Yes, you can keep the sword.”
We start walking towards the Jeep again when Cole, who is getting pretty good with questions, has one more. “Where’s Malcolm? Is he going to be part of the band?”
