by Vox Day
“I think she’s outside,” Jami said, pointing to the door. “What should I do?”
Her brother pointed with his chin towards a small black object lying on the floor nearby. “See if you can call 911 with that cell phone and tell them it’s safe for the paramedics to come in. Then find Holli and see how many people are hurt in the hallway.”
“Okay,” she said as Christopher bowed his head and began praying for the wounded girl. The phone was still on, fortunately, and it only took a moment to get connected with the emergency operator.
“Tell the paramedics they have to hurry, there’s, um, about thirty people shot at the hotel. Yes, the one with the prom.” She glanced over to where the killers were still lying unconscious. “No, it's safe, I guess you could say they’re kind of out of commission. You want me to stay on the line?”
She looked over at Christopher, but Paulus shook his head.
“Actually, I have to help somebody here. Look, I’ll try to call you back in a few minutes, okay. But I think you’re going to need a lot of ambulances, so tell them to hurry!”
She flipped the little phone shut, hanging up on the operator.
“Why didn’t you want me to stay on the line?” she asked Paulus.
Her angel didn’t say anything, but took her by the hand and led her back towards the double-doors. The first thing she saw was another angel, Aliel, standing in the hallway. And there, at Aliel’s feet, she saw Holli sitting on the floor, cradling Eric’s head in her lap. His eyes were closed, and the front of his shirt was covered with blood, so much so that it was impossible to tell that it had once been white. He wasn’t the only victim, but Holli didn’t even seem to notice that there were others.
She looked up at Jami, tears streaking her face.
“He’s dead.”
Jami nodded slowly, as her memory flashed back to the vision of a boy rising slowly from a chair and pointing a gun at her midsection. And she remembered that sudden blow from behind that had saved her, that feeling of something powerful striking her, hurling her down to the floor and out of danger. Not something, but someone. Eric.
“I think he saved my life,” she told her weeping sister. “He pushed me aside, and so he got shot instead.”
Holli didn’t say anything, but she nodded as she stroked Eric’s peaceful face, and her bloodstained hand left a thin red trail on his too-white skin. Jami looked pleadingly at Paulus.
“Can’t you guys do something?”
The angel shook his head.
“No, we cannot.”
“Come on, you can too!” Jami insisted. “What about Pastor Walters? He was, like, basically dead from that heart attack, and he was all right after we prayed for him….”
Her voice trailed off. Paulus was staring at her intensely, as if he wanted to tell her something, but couldn’t. Did angels know how to play charades? Sounds like… oh, okay, that’s what he was getting at. Jesus said four things. Feed the poor, heal the sick, cast out demons, and raise the dead.
“It’s up to us, isn’t it. We have to do it. Okay, well, fine, if God can raise one person from the dead, then I don’t see why he can’t raise thirty!””
She kneeled down and grabbed Holli’s hand, and placed her other hand on Eric’s mangled chest, ignoring the blood. But as she started praying, a strong hand grabbed her wrist.
“Wait,” Paulus interrupted her. “You are correct, and you have done well here tonight, but there are things beyond your understanding, rules and laws of which we may not speak.”
“For every action there is a consequence, and for every refusal to act there is a cost,” Aliel added. “Three times, you were given a chance to intervene, and three times you declined the opportunity, because you did not see. The Lord Most High has blessed your action here tonight, but now you must choose.”
Three times? What was she talking about? But then an image filled her mind. A fat boy on the floor, sprawled in front of a ransacked locker. Then that same boy, sitting alone at a table, listening intently as she gossiped with her friends. A girl in white, dancing closely with another. And finally, that self-same boy, rising slowly, gun in hand, like the vengeful dead.
God, God, God, please tell me this isn’t all my fault!
“The blame for these deaths is not yours,” Paulus assured her. “It lies solely with the two who lie within.”
“But you must remember that different paths lead to different ends.” Aliel’s voice was firm, but her green eyes were sympathetic. “And here is another fork in the road.”
“How?” Jami asked. “Paulus, you said I can choose, so what am I choosing?”
“Who will live and who will die,” Paulus answered her. He waved his hand, and suddenly there were a bunch of silvery figures standing in front of her, beings that looked like people made of a shimmering light. Jami realized that she knew some of them, there was Jim Schumacher, and Kara Hammel, and Kjirsti Tornquist, and there, standing off to the left, was Eric. He was the only one who appeared to be able to see her, and his soft puppy-dog eyes glittered with what seemed to be both amusement and concern. He was even smiling.
“Holli,” she whispered urgently.
“What?” her sister replied, not looking up, lost in her sorrow.
“Never mind.” Jami shook her head. Last time, at the Tower, it was her sister with the sight. Now it was her turn, apparently, and she desperately wished it wasn’t.
“The Lord Most High has heard your prayers, and the prayers of others as well. Because he is a merciful God, he has decreed that of the twenty-eight who were slain here tonight, one-half shall live again.”
Jami was horrified. Paulus couldn’t be serious. How could he stick her with this?
“This is not of his doing, Jami. He is only the messenger.” But Aliel went on to confirm her fears. “Go to each of those you would choose, and place your hand above their heart. Tell them to awake, in the name of the one you serve.”
Jami shook her head, not in refusal, but in shame. How could she send fourteen people to their deaths, when it was partly her fault that they were dead already? That didn’t make sense, she knew, but nothing else did tonight, so there. Jim Schumacher was a jerk, but did that mean he deserved to die? Of course, Eric had to live, there was no question about that, but still, the whole thing didn’t seem fair.
“The time grows short,” Paulus told her. “If you would act, you must do it now.”
But… but… but… well, that didn’t leave her much of a choice, then. She kneeled down again, and started to place her hand on Eric’s bloody chest.
Then she stopped. Something about the glowing spirits of the dead was bothering her. Considering that he was dead, Eric looked pretty relaxed. Happy, even. So did some of the others, while the rest looked scared to death. Like they’d seen a ghost, she thought, which struck her as almost funny, despite the circumstances.
She glanced inquisitively at Paulus, but he shook his head. Clearly, he couldn’t tell her anything more.
“Jami, hurry up,” Holli urged her. “What are you waiting for?”
A thought struck her. Even after she’d gotten over the jealousy thing with Eric, she’d still been a little bit concerned about his taking advantage of Holli. Her sister, though, had always dismissed her concerns out of hand, despite their youth pastor’s advice against dating non-Christians.
“Holli, did Eric ever become a Christian?”
Her sister looked up at her suspiciously.
“Yeah, like, three weeks ago. Why?”
Jami counted quickly. Fourteen happy, fourteen freaked out. Maybe she was wrong, but she really didn’t think so. It added up, certainly. And if she was right, then she knew what she had to do, and she thought she might even understand why the choosing had been left to her and not Holli.
“That’s great,” she said, even as she stood and turned away from Eric’s body. “Paulus, is it okay for you to point out who is, you know, who?”
Her angel slipped his arm around her s
houlder.
“That, I can do for you, my dear.”
“No!” Holli cried, tugging at her dress. “Jami, please, you can’t leave him! You can’t just let him die!”
But Jami looked at Eric, the real Eric, not the empty shell being cradled by her sister. He was nodding approvingly, and when he saw that she was looking at him, he gave her the same cheerful two-thumbs-up he used to give her on the field. She could feel tears start to build in her eyes, but she fought them off and grinned back at him.
Thank you, she mouthed at him silently. I’m sorry
Don't be, James, she heard his voice in her head. He sounded light-hearted, even joyful. Don’t mention it. Look, tell your sister I’m sorry, but it was worth it. Some things, you just have to do. And tell her she was right, too, about everything.
Jami nodded. I’ll tell her, she promised him.
Oh, and James?
Yeah?
Tell her I love her.
He waved and disappeared from her vision, as did all the other silvery forms. Jami couldn’t fight her tears any longer, and she began to cry even as she knelt down at the side of a boy with a grievous head wound. He was an obvious goner, and Jami found it hard to imagine how even an all-powerful God could heal someone this messed up. But she was too full of too many conflicting emotions to doubt, or even think. This was the time to act; there would be plenty of time to figure things out later.
“This one?”
Paulus nodded.
Jami sniffed and wiped at her nose, which had started to run, then she did as she’d been told. Her hand was on the boy’s heart as she ordered him to live again.
“Get up, in the name of Jesus Christ… of Nazareth!”
Okay, probably God wasn’t picky like the demons were, but she figured it was best to be on the safe side. She was watching closely, staring at the boy’s head and wondering how the terrible wound would be healed, when it simply vanished. There was nothing to see, one moment it was there and the next it was gone. Amazing! The boy’s eyes opened a second later, and Jami was unsettled to see how alert he was. His eyes were full of fear.
“I was watching you,” he said suspiciously. “But I was over there… how did I get here? What happened?” He shuddered. “And what where those things? They were awful, howling and grabbing at me….”
Jami shuddered herself. She knew what it was like to have demons grabbing at you, and she couldn’t imagine that it felt any better once you were dead. At least this was one guy they wouldn’t be dragging off to Hell, not yet, anyhow. She met his eyes and shrugged. What could she say that wouldn’t sound completely nuts? Besides, she couldn’t wait—there were still thirteen more kids to save. She patted the resurrected boy on the shoulder and quickly stood to follow Paulus. All the while she could feel Holli’s angry, grief-stricken eyes boring a fiery hole into her back.
Outside she could hear sirens. She had to hurry. There wasn’t much time.
Chapter 33
Red Screen Tilt
And when Nietzsche says,“A new commandment I give to you,'Be hard,'” He is really saying,“A new commandment I give to you.'Be dead'”
—G.K. Chesterton, Heretics
I know her, Jami thought, as she stared down at the horror-stricken face of the dead girl at her feet. It was the girl in white from Jason’s party, the one who had somehow been involved in this whole deal. Her mouth was open, as were her sightless eyes, and it was clear that she had seen her death coming. Jami swallowed hard. Of all the terrible, awful, very bad things she’d seen tonight, this was quite possibly the worst.
She glanced at Paulus. The angel’s attention seemed to be elsewhere, and his face was stern.
“Her too?” she asked uncertainly. Thirteen of the fourteen lives she’d been promised had already been restored. But why should this girl live at Eric’s expense, if she’d somehow caused this massacre?
“The choice is yours,” Paulus told her again. “Eric is beyond all fears, as you know. She, on the other hand, is being tormented by the Fallen as we speak.”
“Right, right, and who am I to judge anyone.” Jami shook her head and wearily pushed her hair out of her eyes, trying to ignore the sticky blood already matting it together. “Doggone it! Okay, then if you want to get out of there, girl, wake up in Jesus’ name.”
There wasn’t any reaction at first, and Jami looked uncertainly to Paulus. The angel smiled briefly and shook his head. Then Jami realized that the chest under her hand was heaving, and that tears were leaking out from under the girl’s now-closed eyes. Emotionally drained, and still in shock from the evening’s terror, Jami cried too, and pulled the girl up to a sitting position and held her close. That was how the black-clad riot police discovered them as they rushed into the room only seconds later, followed by two teams of paramedics.
The cops were swearing furiously, shocked by the sight of so many dead and wounded kids. Even the paramedics, used to seeing all kinds of nasty car accidents, seemed to be stunned by the horrific scene. They were almost silent as they went to work, moving quickly from victim to victim as they determined who might yet be saved and who was beyond help.
“No sign of the shooters,” the first armored SWAT cop to enter the room shouted. “Reports said two, I got nothing but casualties and one-two-three unarmed kids.”
“Where are the little shits who did this?” another cop, a tall, muscular man who was carrying a wicked-looking machine gun jabbed his finger at Jami. “I cannot fucking believe this. Not here, shit like this doesn’t happen here!
“They’re over there,” Christopher called as he pointed out the two unconscious killers on the floor. “Their guns are here. I moved them over here after they dropped them.”
Jami could only see the big cop’s eyes, since the rest of his face was covered by a black mask, but she could see they were studying her brother suspiciously. Christopher was the only kid there who wasn’t all dressed up, which did look kind of bad in the circumstances. How were they supposed to know who were the bad guys.
“Those two? What happened to them? Are they dead?”
“I don’t think so, but I wasn’t here,” Christopher answered honestly, if incompletely. “I came in looking for my sisters when everyone else was running outside. That’s my sister there, the blond girl… my other sister got out already.”
“That true?” The cop was looking at her now.
“Yeah, he was just trying to help us.”
The cop lowered his weapon, and shook his head slowly.
“Jesus, kid, are you crazy or just stupid? Okay, well, we’ll probably want to ask you some questions later”
“Yeah, fine,” Christopher replied. “But, um, I think one of them just moved.”
“Fuck!” The SWAT cop whirled around, and there was a click as he thumbed his weapon off safety. “Hold it right there,” he roared as one boy rolled over to his stomach and the other one sat up, blinking at the overhead lights. “Don’t even think of moving! You, put your hands on your head, and you, put your hands out in front of you! On the ground! Get on the ground!”
The girl in her arms screamed, frightened by the sudden shouting, and Jami hugged her even tighter as she tried to shush her. Within seconds, the police team had formed a deadly semi-circle around the two boys, and were training their weapons on them. Jami winced, half-expecting another explosion of gunfire, and although she wanted to close her eyes, she found that she couldn’t bear to look away either.
One of the boys obeyed the shouted orders, but the other one, the fatter one, didn’t seem to understand them. Ignoring the eight automatics pointed at him, he pushed himself to his feet with a dazed expression on his face. It was almost as if he had just woken up, as if he had gone to sleep in some other place and awoken to discover himself in the midst of this nightmarish scene. He looked around the room and shook his head in disbelief.
“What the hell?” He mouthed the words silently, but Jami had no problem reading his lips.
“Damn i
t, kid, I told you not to move!” The cop’s commanding voice was furious, but to Jami, his anger sounded almost desperate. He didn’t really want to shoot the boy, she knew. But from the sickened look on the boy’s face, she wasn’t sure that the boy didn’t want to be shot.
“Ohmigod… it’s Brien,” whispered the girl in her arms. “I can’t believe… how could he do this? He couldn’t, it’s not possible!”
“Oh, Derek, what did we do?” the boy said, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He looked like he was about to be sick. “What the fuck did we do to them! I didn’t want this! I didn’t want anything like this! I didn’t!”
He looked desperately towards the other boy, the one still on the carpet. The other killer's face was hard and betrayed none of the remorse that was shattering his friend. His hands were still on his head, but he pretended not to see the guns that were still threatening him, and Jami was shocked to see that he was even smiling at his accomplice’s horror.
“Like it ever matters what anybody wants, dude. They got what they deserved, the fuckers.”
“Shut the fuck up!” the big cop cut in. “And you, get your hands on your head like your big-mouthed friend there and nobody has to get hurt. Do it!”
The sitting boy rolled his eyes and rebelliously extended one finger on each hand, but he kept his mouth shut and his hands on his head nevertheless. The standing boy, though, shook his head and slowly reached inside the pocket of his black pants.
“Don’t make me shoot you, kid!”
The boy looked up at the policeman, and his eyes were darker and more lost than anything Jami had ever seen. They had been blank before, when the demons were possessing him, but now there was a deep sadness there that was emptier than any void. Then he shrugged.
“Go ahead,” he answered simply, without pretense. “That might be the nicest thing anyone ever did for me.”
The policeman didn’t take his finger away from the trigger, but something in his rigid posture seemed to relax, and his voice softened, just a little.
