Angel Falls

by Michael Paul Gonzalez

  “No! No!” I hardly recognized the sound of my own voice.

  I turned and charged Phaleg. He raised the dagger to defend himself, which is exactly what I hoped he’d do. I rushed him, throwing back my arms and aiming my chest at his dagger. We fell in a heap to the ground together, the dagger burning in my heart. Probably not my brightest idea. But I’d heard of other gods trying to pull this kind of shit in the past. I hoped it wasn’t another tall tale from a dead culture.

  Yaotl spasmed on the wall and lost his grip, tumbling slowly through the air and plummeting to the ground. He rolled towards us, kicking up a plume of detritus. His breath was ragged, and the thunderous bass of his heart was slowing. His legs had shattered in the fall, chunks of obsidian and black glass scattered across the street behind him. He slowly pulled himself towards us with his hands.

  I grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it down towards my belly, tearing a massive hole in my chest. I collapsed next to Eve and pulled the spear from her chest. I forced my fingers into the wound on my chest and forced my hand inside. My vision went grey; the pain was just as bright and sharp as the day I’d fallen from Heaven. I pushed my hand in further until I felt the spark of Creation inside me, fluttering like a frightened bird in my fingertips. I knew I’d only have one chance at this. I pulled out hard, and looked in my hand, the sheer Light of Possibility and Creation illuminating the entire street. I pulled myself down towards Eve and kissed her forehead, pressing my hand against the wound in her chest.

  “Live,” I told her. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  I slumped down, my eyes meeting Yaotl’s as he pulled himself closer.

  “Love. Saves. Everything,” I said.

  And I died.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  No, really!

  I died. Totally dead.

  No heartbeat.

  Not even a heart. But you have to admit, with my selfless act of bravery back there, I totally DO have a heart! Or did.

  I hope you’re rethinking everything you’ve ever thought about me.

  Really, I’m not that bad of a guy.

  You should feel kinda guilty, having all of those bad thoughts about me.

  Blaming me for everything, every single little thing that YOU and your horrible ilk have...

  What does it matter? I’m dead.

  In fact, I’m glad it’s all over. It’ll give me a chance to relax. Take a break.

  Not have to worry about The Boss or Creation or anything ever again.

  Wait a minute...

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I was in Heaven.

  The Boss. I finally had my chance, and I gave it all up for a woman? That was so unlike me!

  Everything was white, glowing. Nothing changed. I blinked my eyes.

  Being dead was starting to feel suspiciously like being alive. There was a vague silhouette standing above me, fuzzy against the harsh light in the sky.

  Or was it just plain fuzzy?

  “Get up, you pussy!” Monkey yelled, tapping me in the face with his finger.

  I swatted his hand aside and slowly sat up, blinking.

  Heaven, to put it kindly, was a hot mess. There was rubble everywhere, the streets were scattered with the remains of those deceitful souls that had tried to Breach their way into Heaven. I snapped my head around, feeling like I was shaking off the worst hangover in all of Creation, when I saw her blood on the ground beside me.

  “Eve?”

  “She’s alive,” Monkey said. “She was up and about right after you gave up the ghost for her.”

  “And so are you.”

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Monkey laughed. He stood up and stretched, ruffling his hands through the fur above his ears. “What a day, huh?”

  “No, no, no. None of this nonchalant ‘what a day’ bullshit. What the Hell just happened? Yaotl swallowed you!”

  “Yeah, that was wild,” he nodded. “...and then?”

  Monkey pretended to reach into my ears with his hands, magically “pulling” one object from each as he spoke two words.

  “Doubly. Immortal. Getting eaten still hurts like a bitch though.”

  “Are those...?” I asked, reaching my left hand for them. My right hand was still missing.

  “Your anima crystals, sire ,” he said, drenching the last word in as much mockery as possible. He laid them in my palm and I felt the drunken wave of their power rush over me.

  Monkey scampered up the nearest wall and pounded his chest. “I ripped those fuckers out of the still-beating heart of a Proto-God-Demon King-Universal...THING. And the Monkey is still standing! I. Am. A BADASS!”

  “No argument here,” I said, rising up to my feet.

  I felt Light, ready to take on the world.[40] I looked at my right hand, and the electric red glow returned. Solid yet insubstantial. I couldn’t wait to figure out all the things I could do with it.

  “Can we go home now?” Monkey asked.

  “You can do whatever you want,” I said, looking at the Palace. “He expecting you?”

  “He expects everything. He is, after all, The Boss.”

  Phaleg’s blade, the Obsidian Knife, lay shattered in the street. I picked up the hilt, which still held enough of a shard to do some damage. “Where’d he go?”

  “Hiding, I’m sure. All of Heaven’s gonna come after him.”

  “Did Goliath make it out?”

  Monkey looked back towards the rift in the Gates, which was rapidly being sealed by the Hosts of Heaven.

  “Don’t know.”

  “They’re not gonna be busy forever, huh? Wanna come with?”

  “You’re on your own pal. I tested my immortality once today.

  That’s enough adventure for a day, I think.”

  I extended a hand towards Monkey. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t shake, only twitched his tail twice. “You owe me a car, numbnuts. American muscle! None of this clown car shit!”

  He scampered away towards the Gates of Heaven, hopping from shoulder to shoulder of the angels working, causing a slight commotion as he bounced away into the light and back to the safety of Hell.

  I turned and faced the Palace.

  A door opened in the wall before me, revealing a gleaming white staircase ascending to infinity.

  “Here we go,” I said to nobody in particular.

  * * *

  The landing at the top of the stairs stretched down a short hallway with a single door. A desk was situated beside it, with a familiar looking homunculus of a man seated behind a brass computer.

  I felt foolish brandishing the remains of the Obsidian Knife, so I laid it on the desk.

  “Wassup, Rocky?!” I shouted, startling the man behind the desk.

  He hated when I used his nickname.

  He drew himself up to his full height, cracking his knuckles and leaning forward.

  “He’s not talking to anyone today,” Peter said.

  “I’m not here to talk,” I answered.

  “I’m not letting you past those doors,” he said, moving to block my path.

  “Peter, you’re in Heaven of all places. What harm would little ol’ me pose against Him?”

  “No tricks, Lucifer!”

  “This isn’t a trick! If you believe in Him, you have to let me through. Anything less would show a lack of faith, and really, you’ve been shamed enough for that sort of thing.”

  His jaw worked for a moment, and then he briskly stepped aside, opening the door. “You know the way. I’d say good luck, but...you know.” He grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “fuck you” but I didn’t stop to question it.

  I stepped inside the hallway and took a breath. It was not ornate in the least, just a simple stone passageway that led to an opening at the end. Peter closed the door behind me, the only illumination coming from the chamber ahead.

  I poked my head inside to see if there was a welcoming party. This room, perfectly spherical,
was called the Chamber of the Holy Spirit. The walls pulsed with images and color, much like the wings of the angels who’d manifested for me earlier, but on a much grander scale. There were solid images in some spots, surrounded by flashes of color that raced across the walls in great washes. These were the prayers of every faithful person on Earth. Everything they asked for, hoped for, yearned for. All of these messages blasting across the screen, and only one man there to answer them.

  He was still tall and youthful looking as the last time I’d seen Him. His hair was long, his face gentle and his eyes kind. But he looked frail, sick with worry over all of the Children of the World. I’d mocked Him for caring once, told Him it was his weakness and would be His downfall. I still didn’t understand how he could do it.

  “Hi, Jesus,” I said quietly.

  He didn’t stop, didn’t even acknowledge me.

  His eyes danced from color to color, image to image on the wall, His hands danced in the air feverishly. He seemed to be chanting, “I love them. Why do they do this? Why?”

  Tears coursed down his cheeks.

  I shook my head. “Just let it go, man. Look at what it’s doing to you.”

  He shook His head at me and continued to work.

  “Meh, can’t blame a guy for trying. Where’s your dad, then?” He pointed briefly at the wall and a small portal opened on the far side of the sphere, revealing a great vista of green meadows and blue skies.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He was consumed again in His ceaseless work. Listening, trying to respond, trying to love, giving everything He had for an audience long since rendered deaf and blind by apathy and lies.[41]

  I left the room and stepped into the vast Gardens of the Lord. An elderly lady shuffled between rose bushes, trimming here and there, and smiling contentedly to herself.

  There was a young black couple cuddling on a park bench, pointing out the flowers and birds to each other and sharing private jokes. Children frolicked in the fields, dancing with loyal dogs and cats from lives lived long ago.[42] Any one of these people could be Him. None of them regarded me, nobody paid me any special attention, just as I thought. He could be the air I was breathing, the light in the trees, the sky above. Any of it, all of it. I approached the old lady in the garden. She smiled at me.

  “Dzień dobry.”

  Polish. Interesting. “Hiya,” I replied.

  She studied me for a moment, then reared back with her hoe and slammed it across my head, knocking me to the dirt. I scrabbled backwards as she advanced, spitting a string of curses that would make a drunken Polish sailor blush. A small boy ran forward and extended a hand for her to stop. He was eight, maybe nine years old, spindly. Possibly Kenyan. She looked from me to the child, then spat at the ground near my feet, crossing herself as she returned to her gardening. She was like a caged tiger, keeping one wary eye on me.

  The child approached and held a hand out to me. “Hi!”

  “Having fun?” I asked.

  “Every day is a wonderful day, made for rejoicing in the name of the Lord, is it not?”

  “Get bent,” I said, dusting myself off.

  The boy roared with laughter, doubling over. His eyes were fathomless pools of night, containing the stars from an infinite number of galaxies yet to be born.

  “I’d rather do this with you in a more...grown-up vessel, is that possible?”

  “No. I’m in the middle of a wonderful soccer match right now. I don’t feel like changing.”

  I flexed my right hand, feeling the energy coursing through ethereal fingers, mingling with the Holy Spirit that permeated the air.

  “I’m not big on killing children, that’s all.”

  At this, the boy laughed even harder. He doubled over, slapping His knees, and simultaneously aged eighty years. His hair grew dreadlocked, long and grey. He thought for a moment, then his hair relaxed and his features changed, his skin lightening. He was Asian now, His face weathered and kind, His eyes unchanged. “Kill me? Why? What did I ever do to you? Oh, you always were so hot-headed. Walk with me.”

  He turned His back and began to meander through the garden. I was two paces behind Him. I could drive my hand through the back of His skull right now. The old lady in the garden must have read my mind, because she was on her feet again, tapping the handle of her hoe against an open palm like a mob kneebreaker.

  The old man stopped briefly and turned to her.

  She calmed at this and returned to her gardening, still squinting her eyes at me. We continued over a small rise in the garden until we came to a reflecting pool. We watched a moment while a small flock of ducklings glided in from the water, stumbling onto the grass and waddling towards their waiting mother. He lifted the last one from a tangle of weeds, cupping it in his palms and bringing it back to its family. The other ducks seemed in awe of their sibling, if such a thing was possible. I envisioned that duck going on to great things, delivering his own sermon somewhere, stealing all of the credit from one of the other hard working yet misunderstood ducks. I kneeled down and extended a hand towards the flock, hoping to lure one of them to me, but the mother was having no part of it. She squawked at me twice, then ran in wild circles around her children, wings extended, herding them into a circle and moving them on their way.

  “You could have stopped this anytime, you know.”

  “Of course I know. What’s not to know?”

  “You let Creation fall apart, but you stop to help a duck out of the water. This is why I hate working for you.”

  “We all work for a higher power.”

  “Still trying to impress the missus, huh?”

  “Impress is probably not the correct word. But,” he smiled, “She is a perfectionist.”

  “The original.” I sat at the water ’s edge contemplating my next move, but I could already feel the resolve draining out of me. I couldn’t kill Him. “What’s next for me?”

  “Now? You go home. Relax for a few days. And then, you get to work. I sent you down there for a reason.”

  “It’s my kingdom, I will damn well run it the way I see fit!”

  “You believe whatever you’d like. But know this. I still love you. I believe there’s hope for you. I’m waiting here to forgive you. Someday.”

  “Oh, let me guess, you know the day, the hour—”

  “Maybe you’ll surprise me. We’ll see.”

  “This whole Free Will vs. Predetermination thing. Sometimes I think You don’t even know what’s going on with it.”

  “I wish I could tell you.”

  “That talking in circles thing really never gets old for you?”

  “I’ll share this with you. Today, you began to understand the concept of self-sacrifice. Dying to yourself and choosing to live in Love.”

  “And a great deal of good that’s accomplished.”

  He gestured for me to follow him towards a tree – strike that – the tree. You know the one. There were two identical couples on either side of its massive trunk.

  On one side of the trunk, Eve looked glorious, her skin glowing more from within than from the warm light of Heaven. Her chest bore a jagged purple scar, and her hair still had shocks of white, but everything else about her was vital. There were tears on her face, her hands folded across her stomach. She faced away from Adam, unmoving. He also faced away from Eve, his face buried in his hands.

  On the other side of the tree, Adam and Eve sat, she between his legs leaning back into him. His hands caressed her belly as her hands reached back to stroke his hair. They were content. Perfected.

  “What did you do to them?” I asked the Old Man.

  “Slowed them down a bit. They’re gone as far down two divergent paths as they can. What happens next is up to you,” He said. “They weren’t supposed to see each other. You knew that.”

  “I promised her happiness,” I said.

  “We can’t always get what we want,” He said. “If you deny them, she returns with you to Hell, with the promise that they
will be reunited when the time has come. She will have to live with the memory of seeing him without touching him. And if you allow them to reunite, everything changes.”

  “How?”

  “She goes back to Earth. Pregnant. While she’s there, neither of us get to see her. The Child is born, and everything changes.”

  “End of the World?”

  “The World ends and is born anew every day.”

  “Oh for—can I get a straight answer out of you?”

  “You’re aware of the things that have been written. Everything changes. It’s all I can tell you because until it happens, it’s all I know. After you make your choice, we can move forward to what comes next.”

  “They’re human, for Your sake. Frail creatures. Let them be happy together on Earth, die together as they should have.”

  “Adam remains with me. She will live on Earth with the torture of knowing she had this moment of perfection, and that it’s possible that it may never come to pass again.”

  “So she’s miserable either way?”

  “I suppose it depends on how much worth you’d give a moment like this.”

  I wandered around the tree, taking in the two versions of Eve’s future. The suffering she displayed when parted from Adam. I’d be there for her. I’d comfort her. And perhaps in time...

  I think, either way, she’d come out of this hating me for giving her exactly what she wanted. I crouched next to the happy version of Eve and ran a hand through her hair. I shook my head. Adam’s face said it all. I’d never have that with her. I had no right to. I whispered to him, “You don’t deserve her, you know. You were born lucky, that’s all.”

  I ran a hand across Eve’s belly, imagining the spark of new life growing there. “What do you think she’ll name him?”

  “Her name will be Eden.”

  “A girl?!” I nearly shrieked.

  “We’ll see,” the Old Man smiled.

  I stood up and nodded. He didn’t wave His hands, no prayers or magical spells were spoken. One minute there were two couples beneath the tree, then only the happy couple remained.

  Eve blinked, then looked at me.