Offspring

by Liam Jackson

  He paused for a moment to watch a guy saw through a small anvil with a steak knife, then spent a few seconds admiring the sculpted abs of a leggy brunette model as she went through "the workout of a lifetime." He clicked the remote again, and a talking head instantly filled the screen. Sam turned up the volume.

  "... beloved, we live in an age of spiritual warfare. Satan and his minions are alive and well on planet Earth, and like beasts in the jungle, they lay in ambush for the unwary."

  Sam nodded absently and muttered, "You tell 'em, preacher." He took a drink of the hot chocolate and grabbed a handful of the popcorn.

  "You say, preacher, I have more trouble than you can possibly imagine and there's no way out. I don't know which way to turn."

  Sam unconsciously rubbed a hand across his healing sternum, his eyes locked on the screen.

  "You say... wait! Wait just a second. God is speaking to me, just now. He says that... there's someone watching, a—a young man"—the talking head stabbed a finger at the camera—"young man, you say my health is wrecked, my body has been battered and broken by demonic onslaught. Well, God says, my son, the Demon of Disease and Affliction has marked you and laid hold upon your life, but I, sayeth the Lord, will lift you up!

  "You ask, what must I do to receive a blessing tonight and have deliverance from mine enemies?"

  Sam frowned and leaned forward on the sofa. "Quit stalling, dude! Spit it out if you know something!"

  "If you would have an immediate blessing in your life, show God you mean business! Plant a seed of faith and watch God supply a bountiful harvest! And when we come back from commercial break, I'm going to tell you how you can order my video, 'Seeds of Faith' for a love offering of only forty-nine ninety-five. Be sure to order yours today!"

  "Well, kiss my demon-afflicted ass!" Sam turned off the television and hurled the remote through the kitchen doorway.

  "Can't sleep?"

  Startled, Sam turned to find Mark grinning at him from the bathroom doorway.

  Sam leaned back and pulled a cushion to his chest. "I—

  I'm sorry about that. Guess I lost it for a second. Janet resting?"

  "Yeah. You were still asleep when she got home from the office. She spent most of the day staring at a computer screen, researching crimes statistics for the major U.S. metros. The recent increase in violent incidents is incredible. It's spreading like a cancer." Mark gingerly took a seat next to Sam and put his hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "By the way, there's nothing to be sorry about," he said, nodding toward the TV remote. "I caught most of that talking head's bullshit. I always figured if there really is a Hell, it'll burn a few degrees hotter for most TV evangelists."

  Sam gave him a cynical look. "Most?"

  Mark chuckled and said, "There's too many of them. Has to be at least a couple of real-deal, God-fearing types in the lot."

  Sam drained the hot chocolate from his mug and stood up. "Maybe. I'm not betting on it. So how are you feeling?"

  Mark grinned. "Could be worse. Much worse, bless Horace's old bald head."

  "Cool." Sam raised his empty mug in salute and said, "Here's to Horace's old bald head. I'm going to have another round. Care to join me?"

  "Sure. And make it a double."

  Sam smiled and walked into the kitchen. He filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Over his shoulder, he called out, "Hey, Mark, I ever tell you about my Nanna?"

  "I think you mentioned her. Your grandmother, right?"

  "Yeah. She passed away three years ago. Half Scot, half Sioux Native American. I think I get the Blood through her side of the family. Nobody on my dad's side has ever shown any signs, at least none that I've ever heard about. But Nanna, now that was a special lady.

  "She told me stories about my great-great-grandfather. If even half of that stuff is true, he was definitely an Offspring. Anyway, after I threw the remote, I remembered something she once told me about religion."

  Mark walked into the small kitchen and took a seat at the breakfast table. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. She said that religion and spirituality are two different things. She said lots of people, like those preachers, have the one, but not all that many have the other."

  Mark grinned and said, "And did you understand?"

  "Not at the time," said Sam. "But after everything that's happened lately, I think I finally got it."

  The kettle began to whistle and Sam spooned generous amounts of the powdered cocoa mix into two mugs. He turned off the stove burner and using his shirttail, he lifted the kettle from the stove and poured steaming water into the mugs.

  "Mark..."

  "Yeah, Sam?"

  Sam passed a mug to Mark, then sat down at the table. "I've been thinking about... things."

  Mark stirred the hot chocolate and waited patiently for Sam to continue.

  "I don't wanna sound stupid or anything, but... you do believe in God, right?"

  "Yeah, I guess He's one of the few things I do believe in."

  Sam paused, then said, "So, if there's a God, and He's so friggin' all-powerful, why doesn't He deal with this crap?"

  Mark studied the question for a moment. He didn't admit it to Sam, but he had been asking himself the same questions for several days now. "Hell, Sam, why didn't He stop the Nazi invasion of Poland, or Jews being stuffed into gas chambers? Or the plague during the Middle Ages, Ebola in Africa, or the asshole who kills an old woman for her social security check? I think He could, maybe. In fact, lots of people believe He does it all the time. He just doesn't do it in an obvious way. I think that, maybe, if He fought all our battles for us, we wouldn't be worth as much."

  Sam seemed confused by the logic.

  "Look at it this way. He gives us the ability to choose our own paths, and all the tools to do most any job. Then, instead of acting, we just sit around and wait for God to handle everything. That's kind of like handing a hammer to a carpenter. But instead of going to work, he sits his ass on the ground, pours himself a cup of coffee, and waits for the house to build itself. That kind of carpenter isn't worth much to the guy that gave him the hammer. What do you think?"

  Sam shook his head slowly from side to side. "I really don't know, Mark. But I don't believe for a second any of this was by chance or accident. I mean, Horace just happened to be on the bridge back in Arkansas when I was on the run. You just happened to be in that motel at the exact moment I'm in the warehouse. We just happened to reach the Veil minutes before that... that... thing came through. And Michael said he ran into Horace once before, back in Kansas City, at some doctor's office. Uriah, Ural, something like that."

  Mark sighed and said, "Uriel. One of the Archangels mentioned by name in the Apocrypha."

  "Get outta town!" said Sam. "How do you know that?"

  "I was married to a preacher's kid, remember? She—she was into angels. As for that other stuff, yeah, I been thinking the same things. I'm having a hard time believing even half of that stuff was coincidence. But coincidence or destiny, I don't guess it really matters. The only difference between the two is that with coincidence, nobody knows what comes next. Shit just happens, or it doesn't."

  "And if it's destiny?"

  Mark chuckled. "If it's destiny, shit still happens. I guess somebody, maybe God, has a heads-up about the future. But as far as I can tell, He ain't sharing, so the average Joe still doesn't know what's coming. Of course, we're also assuming God really is—what's that word—omnipotent? What if His power is dependent upon us, or our belief in Him?"

  Sam sighed and sunk down into the overstuffed sofa cushions. "Oh, great. Why don't you screw with my head a little?"

  Mark laughed and said, "Consider this: If God really is all-powerful, why was there a war in heaven in the first place? Why didn't He see it coming and just blink old Satan out of existence? Or better yet, never have created evil in the first place? What if God's power corresponds directly to our level of faith? The less faith people have, the less power God has.
It kinda makes you think, huh?"

  The two friends fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts. After a long moment, Sam said, "I still see his face, you know. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mike's face. I can still see him tapping his heart just before... before..."

  Mark took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. So much suffering. The children... God help us, all the children ... so much evil in the world. Is it any wonder that people lose faith? In the end, Michael Collier had faith... enough to spare. At least for Mike, its over now. It's certainly not over for Pam Collier, and not for the families of the other Offspring who died trying to reach the Veil. They'll have to deal with the loss of loved ones for the rest of their lives. And Sam... what happens to him now?

  Mark marveled that the boy had maintained any degree of sanity. Whatever path Sam Conner walked from this day forward, he would carry along unbelievable baggage from his ordeal. And he'll do it without any help from his Voice.

  "Sam, when you and Mike went below, I tried to follow. I mean, I tried to reach. I'm not very good at it, and it took several tries before I finally locked on to you. Even then, it was only for a few seconds. But in that short time, I saw what you saw and felt what you felt... and I knew what you knew." Mark paused, deeply troubled by the recollection. However, he had come too far with the telling to stop now.

  "I saw things back at that motel in Knoxville, things I'll never, ever forget. Through your eyes, I saw things in Abbotsville. Sam, if by closing the Veil, you and Mike stopped even one more of those sons of bitches from coming through, it was all worth it. I'm sure Michael believed that, and you should, too."

  Mark hoped for some sign of understanding or agreement, but Sam shook his head and asked the question that had plagued them all since leaving Abbotsville. "What about those who came through before we closed the Veil, Mark?

  Hundreds like Drammach, maybe more. And what about Axthiel? He wasn't exactly friendly last time we met. and I'm pretty sure he's still alive. What happens now?"

  "I wish I knew, Sam. I wish I knew. But I'll tell you this much. I don't think it's over for us. In fact, I'm afraid it's just beginning. And whatever happens from this point on, you're not alone. There are others like us, and I think we're going to meet a lot of them, eventually. Until then, you still have me. As long as I'm alive, you'll never be alone." Mark's eyes were wet and he dropped his head and changed the subject. "So, you still heading home this weekend?"

  Sam stood up and stretched. "Yeah. I talked to Dad again, last night. He's still pissed and I'm still stickin' to my 'I needed to find myself story. Funny, but he's nowhere near as mad as I thought he'd be." Sam shook his head slowly side to side. "It's like maybe he knows something.

  "Maybe he does," said Mark. "You did say you thought you received the Blood through your dad's side of the family. Maybe he has a touch of the gift. What about Kat? Did you talk to her?"

  "Yeah, for a few minutes. She didn't have a lot to say. I think Kat knows most of the story. She's definitely got the gift. Not sure if that's a good thing or not. Anyway, I'm flying out Sunday afternoon."

  "You still thinking about taking a short road trip on Friday?" Mark asked.

  Sam ducked his head and grinned. "Yeah, thinking about it. The last time I saw her, she wasn't real happy with me."

  CHAPTER 46

  Saturday Morning, Knoxville, Tennessee

  The worst blizzard in Tennessee's modern history had finally abated and Hastings's Sporting Goods was packed with shoppers. Sam sidestepped just in time to avoid a tall, stocky man carrying three cases of shotgun shells toward the checkout. A customer called out, "Careful, Ike. You almost made a greasy spot outta that young feller."

  Ike Hastings sat the cases down near the register and turned around. He gave Sam a quick wink and called over his shoulder, "Nah, this boy ain't got enough fat on him to make grease." Turning back to Sam, he smiled and said, "Now, what can I do for you, son?"

  There was something solid and familiar in that smile, and Sam instantly decided he liked the man. "I'm looking for Charlie. Is she here?" The man's smile disappeared and he carefully studied Sam as if seeing the boy for the first time. "Charlie, huh? You a friend from school?"

  Sam almost lied. Almost. Maybe a little white lie might help him avoid an embarrassing moment, and any uncomfortable questions that might follow. Instead, he said, "No, sir. I met Charlie at the other store, just before it burned. I just wanted to check on her, see how she's doing."

  The man scratched absently at his ear and studied Sam as if looking for some hidden agenda. Sam fidgeted nervously, certain he was about to be shown the door. After a moment, the man nodded as if satisfied with what he saw in the scrawny redheaded boy.

  "She's not in at the moment, but I expect her back shortly. Tell you what, son. Hold tight for a second and I'll try to reach her on the cell phone."

  Ike Hastings stepped behind the counter and punched a string of numbers into the store's speakerphone. While waiting for the connection, Ike smiled apologetically. "Can't promise I'll get her. Dam phone only works when it wants." After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answered, and Sam's heart quickened.

  "Hello?"

  "Charlie, you have a visitor at the store. Where are you?"

  "Hi, Dad. I'm about three blocks away, but headed in the other direction. Mom needs me to run some errands this afternoon and I'm already late. Would you ask whoever it is to come back later?"

  Ike gave Sam an apologetic look. "Sorry, son. You heard her. Can you come back tomorrow? We'll open up after church."

  Sam's stomach churned. He'd be on a plane by this time tomorrow, and a return trip wasn't likely in the foreseeable future. "I... uh... no, sir. She may not be all that anxious to see me anyway. Thanks."

  Defeated, Sam started for the front door when Ike called out, "Son, you care to leave your name or a number?"

  Sam shook his head and said, "Just tell her... tell her a redheaded hobo stopped by looking for some Swiss Miss."

  Before a puzzled Ike Hastings could relay the message. Charlie screamed into the phone, "Sam? Sam! Please, don't you dare leave! I'm on my way!"

  Ike winked and said, "Yep, sounds like she's downright hostile."

  For a fleeting second, Sam thought he heard the soft twinkling of chimes.

  GLOSSARY OF TERMS

  Angel. A souless, celestial entity, created by God and capable of taking ethereal or corporeal form in Heaven and upon Earth.

  Archangel. One of three classes of angels found in the highest tier of Heaven. Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel are the most well known of the archangels, while Anael, Metatron, Ragual, Raziel, Remiel, and Sariel are commonly believed to be the remaining archangels that surround and protect the throne of the Creator. Often incorrectly referred to as Guardian Angels, though they sometimes fulfill that function.

  Authority. A class of angels found in the middle tier of Heaven, and occasionally upon Earth.

  Brethren. Another name for Fallen Angels and much preferred by Lucifer over other, less flattering titles.

  Cherubim. A class of angels found in the highest tier of Heaven. Very powerful.

  Creator. God

  Demon (Lesser Demons). The lowest form of sentient corruption, originating on the plane of Sitra Akhra. Lesser Demons possess the ability to occasionally cross over into the world of men.

  Demon Lord. An extremely powerful demon, with limited access to the world of men.

  Domination. A class of angel found in the middle tier of Heaven and, occasionally, upon Earth.

  Earthbound Host. The collective body of angelic entities, comprised of many classes, and assigned to various tasks upon earth by the Creator. May take either corporeal or ethereal form. Often referred to as Guardian Angels.

  Eye of God. A juxtaposition or joining of all the planes of existence at a single point. It is possible to travel among planes by entering the Eye of God.

  Fallen. A name given to Lucifer and his followers. Angels cast out of Heaven d
uring the First Great War.

  Fury. A powerful demon charged with war and violence. May manifest in either ethereal or corporeal form.

  Greater Demons. Demons of the Third Order. Very powerful and most often manifesting upon the plane of Man in ethereal form.

  Herald. Angels from the lowest tier in Heaven.

  Host. The collective body of angelic entities, comprised of all classes, and responsible for a multitude of tasks including the protection of Mankind and Heaven.

  Kiv. An ancient weapon of tremendous elemental power, favored by angelic warriors.

  Legion. The name given to the collective inhabitants of Sitra Akhra, or any group of demons.

  Multiverse. Infinite planes of existence, also theorized in quantum physics as being comprised of as many as eleven dimensions.

  Nephilim. Judeo-Christian Old Testament name given to angels who took human wives.

  Offspring. The descendents of angels and humans. The one entity in all of Creation within whom flows the blood of both Divinity (angels) and Divine Creation (humans).

  Principality. A class of angel found upon the lowest tier of Heaven and, occasionally, upon Earth.

  Power. A class of angel found upon the middle tier of Heaven and, occasionally, upon Earth.

  Reach/Reaching. An ability to mentally communicate over great distances. Sometimes reaching is a subconscious act, occurring during periods of great physical or mental stress.

  Runner. The Runner is the leader of the Fallen Angels that reside on Earth. Many scholars believe he is of the Seraphim or Cherubim class, although a few such scholars maintain he is a fallen archangel. Regardless, it is an accepted notion by all parties that the Runner is one of the most powerful entities in all of Creation. Other names for the Runner are Satan, Lucifer, and Shaitan.