Angel Falls

by Michael Paul Gonzalez

  “Who’s a good puppy? Who’s my doggy? Who’s my buddy?!” I shouted, my voice growing dumber and dumber with each question. My arms were still deep in the muck, but I kicked up with my feet to scratch at its belly, which was enough for it to flip over onto its back for proper belly rubs.

  “You’re so big now! Ess-oo-are! Oor mah puppa-wuppa- googie-roo-rooroo!” I growled, scratching frantically at its belly. “It’s okay, guys, I—” I looked up to see everyone staring at me slack-jawed. I do suppose this was a bit less than dignified, but I love dogs.

  “They were a puppy last time I saw them,” I said, scratching

  the center head behind the ears. I scratched each head in turn as I named them. “This is Alpha, Omega, and Princess. Collectively known as—”

  “Cerberus! Foul beast!” Charon yelled.

  “I ain’t letting you have all the fun,” Goliath shouted, then jumped on top of Cerberus and commenced belly scratching.

  “He’s been chasing me since the river dried up! And chasing all of the souls down the bank!” Charon screeched.

  Still on his back, the middle head (Omega) cocked an ear, his tongue lolling out onto the ground. There is something intensely therapeutic about scratching a dog’s belly, even in the worst of crises. Everyone had gotten in on the act of giving him a good scratch.

  “You get us across to the other side, and I’ll keep Cerberus out there with me until the waters return. How’s that?” I asked.

  Charon hesitated. “What happens if the waters don’t return?”

  “You’ll have bigger things to worry about. Lead on.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Endless walking through muck. Mud plains, constant, stretching out to an infinite horizon. Stopping every five minutes to step around Cerberus excitedly digging up another corpse or yelling at him to stop chasing Charon. Worse still would be the intermittent Existential Tides that set us all floating about, crashing into one another. Worse still was Monkey’s incessant heaving and refusal to let out whatever was bothering his stomach. Goliath had taken to carrying Lenny (still locked into silence) tightly under one arm so that Cerberus wouldn’t grab him and run off to bury him in the mud somewhere.[33]

  Monkey wouldn’t speak. I should take that as a blessing, but he’s good for brainstorming, and I didn’t think we’d have much time for planning when we reached the exit. The mere act of opening his mouth sent him into spasms.

  The Styx and Acheron were not meant to be walked. Really they can only be traversed by boat, and it’s my hope that walking in one direction will get us where we need to go. There’s no sun, exactly, and no moon. We were just stranded on a vast plain of mud, varying in degree from hard and cracked to soggy glue- pits. There were supposed to be souls down here. I was sure they’d be out here, wanderers from times long past, stuck eternally on the shores of the river, or floating just under the surface of the water. There was nothing. No spiritual meal for me before the big battle. This sucked.

  “We’re not going to make it, are we?” Eve asked.

  The benefit of traveling with Charon was a shortened trip through the Under/Under. The drawback was an unspeakable psychic assault for the passengers, cramming years’ worth of sorrow into a two-hour boat ride. With no water, the walk was taking a bit longer, but we were sped along a bit by the Tides coming through. On that note, we hadn’t been hit with one for a few minutes, and things were starting to feel heavier. The ground was gaining more substance. Over the horizon, a few small hills appeared. Had it been less muddy, I would have broken into a run, but I restrained myself. The hills were close together at the end of a wide, gently curving slope. Almost like a…

  “Stay quiet,” I hissed. I mouthed the words “Wet Mother Earth” at them and got a series of blank looks in return. “Matisyra Zemlya,” I said. “She’s one of the ancient Slavic aspects of planetary creation. One of the first acquisitions I made when I got here. She needed work, so I made her the Delta, she’s where the Styx lets out near the Gates.”

  “Did you treat her like you did Hecate?” Eve asked.

  “She used me,” I said. “It was a rough couple of nights…”

  “She’s fifty feet tall! How did you…? How did she…?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said. “But I was pretty depressed what with being kicked out of my Plane of Existence and all. You’ve never gotten drunk and done something regretful – oh, fuck it, look who I’m talking to. Never mind.”

  We stopped and stared at Zemlya’s form, gently curving out of the mud, a goddess half-formed, or half-buried, depending on how you looked at it. The small foothills of her hips rose towards the mound of her stomach and the silhouettes of her mountainous breasts hovered in light fog.

  Her other leg veered sharply away at an odd angle, and her arms were as yet not visible to us. The ground around her wasn’t disturbed at all, as if she’d lay down a few eons ago for a long nap and was slowly being reclaimed by the bog. Something about her position bothered me, but there was no way to get a full picture of her without finding higher ground, something which was sorely lacking from the bogs of Acheron.

  “Looks like she’s been knocked out, dunnit?” Goliath asked. Cerberus gave a high-pitched whine and ran forward to investigate. Something stirred near Zemlya’s shoulder. A rock, perhaps, tumbling down her side to the ground as she snored.

  Her stomach was lowering slowly, gently. If we could get around her without waking her, I’d be happy. On the other hand, she could offer us some direction from her high perspective.

  As we drew up next to her titanic thigh, I noticed a rippling motion in the dirt encrusting her. A small dusting of pebbles and scree sloughed over us and a small crack formed near her knee. Another rock caromed down her hip, crashing to the ground a few feet away.

  “Is she waking up?” Goliath whispered.

  Her stomach continued to lower, and I realized what was bothering me about the whole thing was the silence. Zemlya was a creature of mud and Earth, and a really loud snorer. She wasn’t exhaling. She was crumbling. She was dead. The ground around us began to solidify, drying and cracking.

  “Trap,” I said.

  “Fight or run?” Goliath asked.

  “Run where?” I asked, indicating the vast plains surrounding us.

  He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Zemlya slowly collapsed inwards, her breasts compressing to dust as her stomach and hips slowly caved downwards to the bogs. Her thigh ruptured open and a small horde of demons exploded forth and circled around us. They’d devoured her from the inside out.

  Goliath drew his sword, a feeble gesture against the foul creatures staring at us. They were oni , huge Japanese demons known for four things: size, strength, stupidity, and an appearance that redefined the word unsightly . There were five of them, armed to their crooked brown teeth.

  One of them stepped forward, a blue-skinned behemoth wearing only a loincloth and carrying an iron club. It waved the weapon ferociously, kicking up a windstorm that pelted us with debris. It finished by driving the club to the ground hard, shaking the dirt beneath our feet.

  “I am Minikui. You can’t pass,” it said.

  “Because…” “Huurrrrgh,” Monkey said.

  The demon’s face faltered and it looked over its shoulder to the rest of the group. They continued to look fierce and angry, but also began to shift guiltily like they’d forgotten their dialogue. They’d also shifted a step back as Monkey stepped forward.

  I grabbed Monkey by the shoulders and leaned in close to him. His fur was matted with cold sweat. “Would you please just let it go? I think these guys are afraid of you.”

  He nodded at this.

  “So talk us out of this situation,” I said.

  He shook his head and pointed at his mouth, then at his belly. I lost it, stamping my foot and gathering the front of Monkey’s shirt in my hands. I lifted him from the ground and shook him.

  “I command you to vomit!”

 
“NNrrrr-nrrr!” Monkey shook his head violently.

  The oni leapt back as soon as I picked Monkey from the ground. They were getting ready to bolt.

  “Looks like someone’s afraid of the little fuzzball!” Goliath shouted, raising his sword. He leaped at the nearest demon. “Get outta here before I— ooooooof! ”

  Quicker than even I could see, the demon had drawn back its club and sent a painful shot into Goliath’s ribs. The Philistine hit the ground hard, rolling back towards us and skidding to a stop at my feet.

  “Maybe violence isn’t the answer,” I said.

  “Lemme try again, just to be sure,” Goliath said, dusting himself off.

  “They’re not coming after us. And that’s because of Monkey,” I set Monkey back on the ground, where he continued heaving and sweating. “That doesn’t mean they’re afraid to fight.”

  “Demon!” I shouted. “Someone told you not to let us pass. They obviously didn’t tell you to kill us either. So what’s the plan here?”

  The red demon had been busily consulting a scroll, his back to us, casting nervous glances over his shoulder. “You are not to cross the wastelands.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t say.”

  “What doesn’t say?” I asked.

  “They told us to keep you here because you had no business approaching the Gates of Heaven.”

  “And by they , you mean…?” “…it doesn’t say.”

  “Who gave you the scroll?” “Them.”

  “Them who?” I glanced around just to be sure we weren’t being observed by anyone else. “Two guys, perhaps? One with a beard and—”

  “The shining golden man who lit Baka on fire,” it said.

  The Brothers could be described in many different ways, but I’m not sure “shining golden” would come springing to anyone’s mind. We were close enough to the Gates of Heaven that I was starting to get an idea though.

  “Who’s Baka?” I asked.

  A darker red demon shuffled forward a bit, half-heartedly waving a club.

  “Baka is still unlike Baka since it happened,” Minikui said. “Any chance that Baka’s head had fire around it, and maybe there were wings on Baka’s back?”

  A general chorus of “yes!” and “exactly!” and “I told you he was one of them !” went up from the horde of demons.

  “You were visited by an angel,” I said. “What was his name?”

  “We do not remember,” Minikui said.

  I looked at Baka, using my cruelest glare. “What…was…his…name?”

  “He didn’t have a name,” Baka said. “So it was a man.”

  “…or her,” Baka hastened to add.

  “The name is the first thing he had to say. There are rules to these kinds of things.”

  Another chunk of rocks slid down the remains of Zemlya behind the demon horde. There was a gaping chasm in the remains of her thigh, black as night, but there was a faint light growing within.

  “Ayyy-eee, took y’all long ‘nuff,” Samedi’s voice came from inside.

  “You know anything about these demons, Samedi?” I shouted.

  “Knaw any ‘bout da who now?” he replied. His skeletal face and top hat slowly protruded from the opening. The demons took little notice of him. “Aw shit, you in trouble, chief! Dis here da door, but I don’ think they let you troo.”

  “Yes, thanks,” I said. “Any ideas what we can do here?”

  “I’m outta rum!” he shouted back. “Went back to my room t’ave a lookit da blackness we pull outcha frien’. Whyn’tchask ya Monkey friend dere f ’e knows sometin’ bout it?”

  Monkey cocked an eyebrow at me. Without taking my eyes off the opening, I whispered, “Are you trying not to vomit for the reasons I think you’re trying not to vomit?” He rolled his eyes at me, as if it had always been that obvious.

  “We can talk about that in a minute,” I told Samedi. “Can’t talk about it at all if we don’t get these fine fellows to stand down.”

  Monkey advanced a few steps on the demons and they parted before him, but they didn’t run. Rather, they moved aside and let him pass through, then closed ranks as he passed them by. He reversed course and the same thing happened again. He looked up at me and shrugged.

  “Baka, which angel was it?” I asked.

  Baka shook its head. “No. If I tell you Michael will be angry.”

  “Michael?” I shrieked. “The archangel Michael appeared unto you?!”

  “You have to wait here. He said.”

  “Okay, look,” I said. “I’m pulling rank here. Yeah, there’s a lot of crap about to go down in Heaven, but this is my land, my property, and I will not be told when and where I can go. Stand aside.”

  The oni were motionless, an oil painting of disdain and malice.

  “You’re not allowed back in Heaven. He will take care of everything. You will wait here.”

  “Like Hell I will!” I said, stepping forward. The demons closed tighter, shoulder-to-shoulder, an impenetrable wall of leathery skin and iron armor.

  We were close enough to our final destination now that I couldn’t risk expending a great deal of energy on a fight. The rift in Zemlya crumbled and widened a bit more. I could see a sliver of light behind Samedi. He must have made the entrance fairly close to the Gates of Heaven.

  “I ain’ gon’ hold the door open in dis saloppe all day, allons!” Samedi growled.

  There was a tug at my side, then a solid yank as I started to slide forward. There was a gravity pulling the Mirror of Smoke towards Samedi’s exit. It wanted to be over there. I dug my heels into the ground, but kept inching along.

  Baka raised a hand. “You will stop,” it said.

  “Don’t tell me,” I replied. “Tell this thing.” I gestured with both hands towards my coat pocket.

  Baka’s knees stiffened and the demon began to slide with me towards Samedi’s rift. It was a few feet away, but the Mirror seemed to be exuding an invisible field ahead of us, pushing aside anything in its path. The movement was irresistible. The Mirror was going through the rift with or without us. I reached inside my pocket. I could feel it screaming to get through the opening.

  “Which of you is the strongest?” I asked.

  “That one,” The demon gestured to a single toothed homunculus lurking near the wall.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Sukebe.”

  I hesitated at that, since it roughly translates into “pervert.” But I needed its help.

  “Try to stop me.” I extended my free hand towards Sukebe.

  “We will do no such thing,” Minikui barked. “You are to wait here by order of an angel. You will do as He says and wait. You will not trick us.”

  “Am I trying to trick you?” I asked.

  “Are you?” it replied.

  “Are you what?” I said.

  The demon’s jaw worked for a bit, then it shook its head viciously. “You may not pass! You will wait!”

  The Mirror was positively vibrating now. If the fabric of my coat gave way it would shoot into the opening as if fired from a crossbow.

  Monkey shuffled in front of the demonic horde and lifted a finger as if he was about to speak. Then he doubled over and vomited copious amounts of dark matter onto the ground. How he held that much inside is beyond me, the puddle seemed three times larger than him.

  “Oooohhhhhh man,” he murmured, falling to his knees. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to talk your way out of anything?”

  “I was thinking,” I said. “Almost had a plan. What the Hell was your plan?”

  “Obviously this dark matter is tied to whatever ’s causing all of this,” he coughed. “Samedi had to open that door from the other side, right? If everybody wants this stuff, do you think it would have been a good idea for him to be over there alone with it? I didn’t want Samedi walking it out of the other side of the Under/Under if we weren’t there to protect him.”

  Samedi’s head peeked further from the rift. �
��Pro-tec’ me from what?” he asked.

  His chest jerked forward with a loud thwack as a glowing spear tip erupted through his stomach. His feet left the ground and he hovered briefly, impaled on the end of the Spear of The Righteous. He floated through the rift, followed by Aspen, who gazed at him as if he were no more substantial than a small ribbon on the end of her weapon.

  She’d changed since I last saw her. Her skin was like bronze, what little of it showed through her substantial armor. Her eyes glowed a sickly green, and her head was shaved. Black tendrils ran from her breastplate, snaking around her neck and running in tiny rivulets and tributaries up the back of her skull.

  The oni were startled by her arrival, parting and forming two ranks, an alleyway of leathery hellspawn flesh with her at one end and me at the other. Monkey swayed above the still- steaming puddle he’d created. It began to flow, slowly at first, then it condensed into a small steady stream that writhed towards Aspen. I felt the Mirror of Smoke inside the pouch bucking and tugging. It took everything I had to hold it back. I could hear the fabric beginning to give way.

  Aspen tipped her spear down and shook it twice, dislodging Samedi into an ungracious heap on the ground. He wasn’t dead, but I’m sure he was wishing she’d killed him. She raised the spear back and jabbed it down fiercely. Samedi’s body disappeared so only his head and top hat remained rolling on the ground.

  “Got t’ get up much earlier in de day to finish dat job, ma chere ,” he said. “Ya gon’ answer fer dat one, dat’s a promise.” The top hat hovered close to the ground and Samedi turned his skeletal grin towards me. “Don’t mess dis up, Morningstar. Dey bett’ be a universe left after all ‘dis ‘ere is done. Leave a piece of ’er fa me, hear?” With a slight pop , Samedi folded into his hat, disappearing into the ether of the Under/Under.

  The rift in Zemlya extended up, tearing from her thigh into the sky itself, and the world began to fall away behind her like melting plastic. There was nothing but an indeterminate whiteness, a thick fog obscuring the place I’d been created. There was a solid line demarcating the underworld, my territory, from the point of origin of everything else. The outskirts of Heaven were pure white, a billowing cloud of everything that rushed towards us and stopped on a flat plane where the desert began. There was no solid wall between us, just The Rules. Over here was Mine. Over there was His. You know, capital-H Him. I hadn’t seen this place in quite some time. Being just this close again, I had to stifle a tear.