“We were just explaining our odd little family tree to Junior here. He was pretty familiar with you and me, and Cain, of course, but it took a little convincing for him to understand that Emily is your daughter,” Eve said.
“Why do you all call me Junior? My name is Sidney Joseph McEwen, and there’s no junior appended to that.”
Eve pointed at me as if to say, ‘It’s his fault.’
“Well, kid. When we first met, you said you didn’t like to be called Sid. And I’m guessing you probably don’t go by Joe or Joey, either,” I replied.
“That is correct, sir.”
“So, Junior it is. Because I can’t really look at somebody with a couple of armfuls of ink and a face that can’t get through airport security because of all the metal, and call them Sidney. For one thing, androgynous names irritate me. And for another, guys named Sidney should all be middle-aged with pipes and leather patches on their elbows. So pick one: you can be Sid, Joe, Joey, or Junior. And you need another beer.” I dug a PBR out of one of Eve’s shopping bags and tossed it to the kid. He caught it on the fly and popped the top. Good to see he’d gotten over all that ‘body is a temple’ crap. That could make for tedious travel.
“I guess I’ll take Sid, then. That’s what my mother always wanted me to be called, after all.” He took a long swig of his beer and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the night sky. Well, what part of it that could be seen through the orange glow of the parking lot lights. “Is it always like this?” he asked after a minute or two of thought.
“Is what always like what?” I figured even if nobody else needed elaboration, I sure did.
“Being around you. Is it always so…” I guessed he took a minute to search for a word that fit and still wouldn’t piss me off. “Exciting?”
“Nah. Usually there’s just a lot of knitting. And the occasional scintillating night of Jenga.” Eve threw that one in.
“But seriously, we don’t go into every town looking to get into bar fights—” I started.
“Speak for yourself,” Eve interrupted. “I personally try to get into a minimum of one bar fight per ten business days. Otherwise, I get cranky.”
“And how would anyone tell when you get cranky, Eve?” I asked.
“I break more people when I’m cranky, dear. Remember Egypt?” Yeah, I did.
Everybody thinks it was the French that shot the nose off the Sphinx. Not so much. Eve can convince some folks to do all sorts of stupid stunts for her amusement. That one took seventy Egyptian slaves and an entire night, but when she was done, the Sphinx had a moustache. That did not go over well with the current pharaoh. Another long story. Don’t ask.
“Anyway. Look, Sid. The fact of the matter is, we haven’t been together that long. Eve and I had a disagreement a few centuries back, and we haven’t seen much of each other until a few days ago. The same could be said for Cain and me, and I kinda bailed on Myra before Emily was born. So, we really haven’t spent a whole lot of time together. So, uh, welcome to the party,” I finished kinda lamely, then dug into Eve’s shopping bag for another beer.
“So, Sid. What’s your mother like?” Emily to the rescue. I was really starting to like having that kid around.
“Well, you know, she’s an ordinary mom, I guess. She works most days, watches reality TV most nights. She and some friends from work do a girls’ night out thing a couple Fridays a month, and every once in a while, she dates. Nothing too serious, I guess. I try to get by her place on Sundays for supper, but something tells me I’m probably gonna miss this week.”
“Good call, kid,” Cain said around the mouth of his beer bottle. Somehow, I ended up with Keystone Light, and Cain got a six-pack of Stella. There was no justice in this world.
“So, what am I supposed to do? I mean, you said something about a Choice, but I don’t think I really understood exactly what I was supposed to do.” The kid looked as though he had finally gotten it out, what he had wanted to ask all night. Too bad I didn’t have any answers for him. I looked over at Eve, thinking if I could, I’d defer to the one who’d actually made a Choice.
After a minute and another long pull of her beer, she answered, “We don’t know yet. You never know the moment of your Choice until it’s upon you. I didn’t really realize that mine had happened until it was all over, and by then, it was too late to overthink. That’s when it works out right, I guess, when you don’t overthink it.
“It’s one of those things that comes on you, and you just make a decision. If it’s really a capital “c” Choice, then you’ll probably get a glimpse of the future behind both options, and then you’ll make up your mind. There will be a representative of both sides there, they’ll each plead their case, and you’ll Choose. And the world will live with the consequences.” Eve finished her explanation, which was more than I’d ever heard her talk about her decision to take the Fruit, and polished off the last of her beer. “I’m going swimming. Anybody with me?” She pulled off her jeans and jumped in the pool in her t-shirt and panties. The water felt good splashing over me, but I was too lost in thought about what she had said to really enjoy it.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” Emily protested, but then she skinned off her jeans and dove in just like Eve. Myra followed soon after, then Cain.
I was left there with the Chosen one and the archangel as my family and girlfriend swam around.
“Why aren’t you in there, Michael?” I asked.
“I, um, I don’t know how to swim,” the angel admitted sheepishly.
I guffawed, then thought about it for a second. He hadn’t had a physical form for very long, so he’d never needed to learn how to swim. It made a kind of sense, if you thought about it. I didn’t think about it for very long, just stood up, walked over to him, and shoved him into the pool. He sputtered, then came up shaking water out of his face.
“No time like the present to learn, Mikey. Enjoy.” Since I knew he couldn’t drown, I left him to figure out the doggy paddle on his own and walked back to sit next to Sid.
Chapter 34
“Penny for ‘em, kid,” I said as I sat down.
He took a long minute to gather his thoughts, and then it all started to flow. “What if I screw it up? I mean, I’ve spent so much of my life as a punk kid, getting all pierced and tatted up to try and be different. And now, you guys come along and say that I am different, but that it doesn’t have anything to do with how I look, or with the fact that I like punk music and still believe the Bible, or any of that. That I matter just because I’m me. That kinda makes me think my whole life is a waste, you know? I’ve spent all this time inventing myself, and now you guys tell me that the fate of the world is in my hands, and it’s got nothing to do with any of the stuff I’ve tried to become.” He looked almost anguished.
I thought I understood. It couldn’t have been easy being different while growing up in the South. “I dunno, kid. All that stuff you did probably has more to do with you being Chosen than we’ll ever know. Well, any of us except for Michael, who kinda has the hotline to the Father. But he ain’t talkin’. So you gotta think that everything you went through went into making you who you are. All the decisions you made and all the ones that people around you made, those are all part of what make you unique. So without any of that stuff, you’d just be another funny-looking street preacher getting your ass kicked in bars. If that helps at all.”
“It does. Thanks. But how will I know when it’s time to Choose? And how will I make the right decision?”
“I don’t have a single idea. But if you come up with the answers, will you let me know?”
“Why?”
“You’re not the only one with a Choice coming up, Junior. I’m not just chaperoning this ride because I’m older than everybody else. Apparently, my time as the observer is about over, and I’m gonna have to make a Choice of my own. And I don’t know a damn thing more about it than you do.”
“But what about the last time?”
“What l
ast time?”
“When you chose to take the fruit from Eve. When you were thrown out of the Garden of Eden.”
“That was Eve’s choice, not mine. Me taking a piece of fruit from my wife was a little-C choice. She’d already been confronted with the big one, and made it.”
“Do you regret it?”
“What, getting tossed out of the Garden?”
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Every single day, kid. Every single day....”
“What was it like?”
“It was a lot like you’d expect from the stories. It was peaceful, mostly. We had plenty to do; we raised crops and learned about the world. We explored our surroundings, and explored each other. You know, doing what young people do. There were lots of animals around, and we got to play with some fairly exotic pets, but it wasn’t all sweetness and light. It’s not like we had pet lions babysitting antelopes and everybody was vegetarian. The animals still had to eat, and so did we. I killed my fair share of beasties, and it’s a lot easier to go to the grocery store now than it was to butcher a water buffalo. And when there are only a few people in the world, there’s not a lot of help to get a water buffalo onto dry land so you can butcher it in the first place. So it was nice, but the best thing was just being around the Father.”
“So you really were in direct contact with God?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, he didn’t come down and walk around in a long white robe or anything, but his Presence was always there. And if I had a question, I asked. And he answered. Now, sometimes, his answer was ‘You’re a bright boy, Adam, figure it out,’ but it was an answer. That’s what I miss the most, just that connection.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
We sat there in silence for a few minutes before he piped up again. “Adam?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Cain.”
“Yeah, what about him?” I was afraid we might be heading into dangerous territory, but figured I owed it to the kid to let him know about the folks he was supposed to save the world with.
“Did he really murder his brother?”
“Abel? Yeah, he did. As far as we can tell, Cain actually invented murder. Not many people can claim to have their own Commandment, but my boy was always an overachiever.”
“Do you take anything seriously? I mean, he killed your son, and now you’re traveling with him. I don’t think I get that.”
“I probably don’t, either, to be real honest with you. But you gotta remember, in addition to having killed my son, he is my son. And I love him. That’s what being a father means, you love them no matter what. I managed to forget that fact for a long time, but I’ve been reminded here recently.”
“So is he a good guy or a bad guy?”
“Yes.”
“To which?”
“Both. Look, there’s no question that Cain killed Abel. And there’s no question that it wasn’t the best thing that’s ever happened in any of our lives, but it just might be that it had to happen for a bigger reason. I’m not gonna pretend to be smart enough to understand that reason, but after all these years, I’m not gonna ask too many questions, either.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“Okay. I guess that’ll have to do.”
“Good deal. So, what’s your story, kid? What is it about you that makes you the Chosen? Are you the offspring of a Seraph and a mortal woman? Are you the Dalai Lama of Tennessee? What is it?”
“I’ve been asking myself that question ever since you picked me up off the sidewalk. I mean, I hate to question the wisdom of an angel, but do you think it’s possible that Michael may have picked the wrong guy?”
“Nah. He’s been too smug about the whole thing for him to harbor any doubts. And his intel is usually pretty good on these things.”
“Okay, then. Well, I have no idea. I try to live a righteous, Christian life. Maybe that has something to do with it?”
“Can’t imagine it hurts, but it probably isn’t a big part of the process. After all, I’m not the least bit Christian, and apparently, I’ve got to make a Choice soon myself.”
“You’re not a Christian? How can that be? I mean, you’re Adam. You’re right out of the Old Testament. How can you not—”
I cut him off. “Sid. Take a deep breath. Now, let’s remember, I am Old Testament. I predate Christianity by about fifty millennia, give or take a couple thousand years. I met the Carpenter. The Nazarene was a good kid, but he wasn’t the first or the last to speak that speech, so I’m not inclined to follow some hippie kid just because he says the Father loves us all. I know the true face of my Father’s love, and I know I don’t need an intermediary to get me there. All I need to do to talk to God is talk to him. I don’t need to do it just on Sundays, or just in rooms with a lotta stained glass, or just through a mouthpiece. Now, I liked the Carpenter. He did some good things, and he had a fantastic speaking voice. But I’m a little more old school in my religion. A little more direct, if you get my drift.”
“I never thought about that.”
“You probably never thought you’d be sitting around a swimming pool drinking beer with the main characters from Genesis, a dog-paddling archangel, and a couple of waitresses from Texas, either.”
“Good point. Hey, thanks for talking to me. I was kinda freaking out a little.”
“No sweat. I’ve gotten used to people freaking out lately. Including me.”
“You?”
“Yeah, me. Look, kid. I don’t really know what we’re coming up on right now, if it’s the end times or what, but there’s a lot of new and different stuff happening, and when you’ve been around as long as I have, you come to understand that there really isn’t that much new stuff to happen. So when new things come in clumps, it’s a little disconcerting.”
“Makes sense. Now, um… I guess I’ve just got one more big question.”
“Shoot.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“You know, I have no idea.”
“Maybe I can help with that.” Shit. That was not the voice I wanted to hear.
“Hello, Lucky.”
“Hello, Adam. Hello, Sidney.” He looked like something out of a Hemingway novel, all white linen suit and Panama hat. The sunglasses were there, of course. The sunglasses were always there.
“What are you doing here, Lucky? And isn’t Michael going to have some objection to your presence?” I looked around to see if the archangel had clued in that his eternal adversary had joined our little pool party, but we seemed safe from any apocalyptic confrontations, so far.
“I’m here to meet young Sidney, of course. As for Michael, I couldn’t care less what that self-important ass objects to. Sidney, please allow me to introduce myself, I’m—”
I would probably fall into the pool and drown myself laughing if he said anything about wealth and taste, but that was the moment that Michael took note of our new addition.
“LUCYPHER!!!!” Michael rose straight out of the pool like a missile from a submarine. His benign human guise vanished in a thought, and what we got was a whole lot of pissed-off archangel. He charged at Lucky across the top of the water, swinging a six-foot flaming sword. I shoved Sid into the pool and dove in after him. I swam as fast as I could to get away from the coming scuffle, dragging Sid behind me.
If you’ve never seen an angel in their natural form, then it’s a little hard to describe. But since I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen one, I’ll give it my best shot. Think a glowing blue-white Shaq, only bigger. A lot bigger. Like seven and a half or eight feet tall. Bald, a little like the blue guy from the Watchmen movie, only bigger, and without genitalia. Leave me alone, it’s the kinda thing you’re gonna notice. There are wings, and they are huge. Humans can stretch out their arms and the distance from fingertip to fingertip equals their height, within an inch or so. When angels stretch out their wings, the distance from wingtip to wingtip is more like ten or twelve feet.
Now, picture a glowing eight-foot-tall Shaq with a twelve-foot wingspan running across the surface of a swimming pool and swinging a sword that would give Braveheart a little twinge in his kilt, if you get my drift. I think you can see why we dove for cover, literally.
I grabbed Sid by the shoulder and we were halfway across the pool before we resurfaced, just in time to watch the collision.
To his credit, if Lucky had veins, there was ice water in them because he didn’t flinch in the face of the Angelic Express about to run him down. He just stood patiently, and when Michael got close, he did some kind of judo/ninja thing, and Michael was suddenly flying across the parking lot. The wings helped him control his descent, and he made the turn before he crashed through anything important, like our car, the front of the hotel, a random fence or two, anything like that. As Michael wheeled around and flew back at Lucky for another shot, Lucky took to the sky himself. He didn’t bother with wings; he just floated straight up and stopped right in Michael’s path.
The Chosen Page 17
