by Ryan Hill
“Then listen with your good ear.” Sam pointed at me, her voice revealing a temper on the verge of being lost. “What did you lace the food with?”
“Nothing dangerous. I added a little spice to their lives. That’s it.”
“And what does that spice do?”
I held my hands behind me, rolling back on my heels as I glanced at the refrigerator behind Sam. I’d have broken into a mighty chuckle if we’d made eye contact. “It’s a moderate psychedelic.”
Sam groaned, then turned and banged her head on the table. Each hit let out a hollow thump. I always got a perverse pleasure from frustrating the Heaven out of Sam. It reminded me that even the best of us could get aggravated. Even good old Sam.
“I can’t believe you.” She slammed her head down on the table once more.
Yes, you can.
“Sam, you do that any harder, you’ll concuss yourself,” I said.
“Is that part of your plan, too?” She moved toward me, fingertips dragging against the table’s cold surface. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her so angry. Even her nostrils were metaphorically spewing napalm. “For once, it would be nice if you—”
Loud, panicked screams in the conference room stopped Sam’s rant dead in its tracks, her mouth half-open, ready to lecture me some more. It was like the screams brought a wall down on her stream of consciousness.
I glanced back at the door leading to the conference room, angling an eyebrow. “It seems we have a winner.”
“What was in that vial?” Sam grabbed my lapel, her hands glowing with the power of God. On most occasions, Sam standing close enough to lick me was a turn on. That wasn’t so much the case this time.
“Are you mad because of the soup or because I was right and the drug revealed the non-human?” I asked.
Suddenly the scratchy, booming sound of an angry monster intent on going bump in the night resonated throughout the building. My feet vibrated from the sound, but Sam didn’t move. The thought of stealing a kiss or two—or three—sprung to mind, but another, more powerful roar from the monster put an end to that.
It was like a sonic boom. Soap fell into the sink. Pots clanged together. My nether regions vibrated. Carol and another volunteer, Janet, stormed into the kitchen, their faces widely contorted with fear. The kinds of faces that’d look hilarious in freeze frame.
“God almighty,” Janet cried, running past us to the kitchen’s back door. Her stomach, large from years of gluttony, bounced up and down as she hustled.
“You kids get the fuck outta here!” Carol didn’t stop as she spoke, but went straight through the back door, her permed hair refusing to move. “It’s the rapture!”
“Such language.” I turned to Sam. “Can you believe the mouth on that one?”
But her face was red as a lollipop. She sucked in her cheeks and lips, trying to keep an epic outburst under control. Considering her level of anger before the monster’s screams, I decided it best to fall in line with the little cherub. Otherwise she’d probably use the Hand of God power to hurl me into the next county.
I gestured toward the conference room. “After you?”
CHAPTER TWO
The Homeless be Trippin'
A very alarmed Sam and I dashed into the conference room, where we saw some of the homeless people running around, shrieking and clawing at air. A few clutched big wooden spoons, ready to fight to the death. Carol wasn’t totally wrong. The scene at least looked like the rapture—except I couldn’t spot the monster with the deep, booming scream.
“I was promised nobody would have a bad trip,” I said, wondering if I’d messed up and fed the homeless crushed bath salts.
Sam and I scanned the crowed, searching for the monster, or whatever had made that supersonic sound.
“It can’t have run off,” Sam said. “Where is it?”
Then the crowd of crazed homeless people opened enough to give us a glimpse into the middle of the room. The good news? I didn’t need to worry about that drug dealer selling me a bill of goods. Which left the weird news.
“It’s just some guy,” I said.
The guy had greasy, stringy brown hair, patchy beard stubble, and wore an old coat riddled with dirt stains. Standing in the middle of the room, it looked like this guy was spookeing the others, but nothing about him stood out to me.
“But a person couldn’t scream like that,” Sam said.
“That’s not our problem,” I said.
“Why’s that?”
“Our job here is done.” I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button on my white dress shirt. “Gabes wanted us to see if the homeless disappearances had any supernatural elements to them. Obviously, they don’t.”
The homeless guy bobbled about, buzzed out of his mind, thanks to the special “spice” I’d added to the soup. He almost tripped over his weathered, tan overcoat, but caught his balance.
“We don’t know that yet.”
I wondered if Sam was putting me on, like she’d found out about my prank beforehand and decided to one up me. No way that this guy–
Oops. Spoke too soon.
The man grabbed at his greasy, disheveled blonde hair and screamed. I felt the bass in my stomach on that one.
Impressive.
This definitely wasn’t a joke. That guy had lungs that were literally out of this world. Whatever he really was, he’d only been traveling incognito as a vagrant on Earth.
“Crap,” I said. “And here I thought we’d get to leave early.”
“What is he?” Sam asked. “For real.”
“Besides a tenor?” I shrugged. “No clue.”
The drugs—I mean special spice—had done the trick, revealing the monster. That was great, but I didn’t have a clue what to do about it. I’d hoped there wouldn’t even be a monster, but such was existence. Sometimes, it stunk to low Hell.
Sam nudged me with her arm. “Do something.”
“Like what? I don’t even know what it is.”
Had a parallel dimension been opened that nobody told me about? This nasty sucker was new to me. It looked human, and his hair turned out to be a wig. But then it made another noise, this time from deep inside its body, like some kind of universal communicator.
The fake hair on its head vibrated.
A moment later it pulled the wig off, letting it drop to the floor. What remained of the head, or more specifically didn’t, made me do a double take. Had I ingested some of the drugs by mistake? There was a black hole on top of its head.
“You didn’t sneak any of that stuff into my food, did you?” Sam asked.
That answered my question. Sam and I weren’t both hallucinating. The blank look on her face told me she’d never seen, or even imagined, something this freaky before. Not that I blamed her. I’d seen a lot of messed up stuff in my day, but this Mop Top was a new level of strange.
Sam’s lips opened to speak. Nothing came out.
Suddenly the Mop Top leaned over and pointed the top of its head at a group of people. The black hole looked like some nasty pod in an alien movie. Whatever the hole was, it wasn’t a mouth. There weren’t any teeth, a tongue, or any other oral instruments inside. Light didn’t reflect off it and the hole didn’t seem to lead anywhere, except maybe to some black void. I figured that was why the thing wore that greasy wig, to keep the crevice on the top of its head hidden from view. With a nasty hairpiece like that, I doubted anybody came within three feet of that monster. I’d have laid down good money that it was infested with lice.
A loud whoosh came out of the hole. It sounded like someone took a deep breath, only with a weird reverberation thrown in for good measure. Styrofoam bowls, plastic forks, and half-full drinks flew into the darkness. Tables whined as they were pulled against the floor. The black hole’s force yanked a woman’s hat off, and she and the two guys around her tried to run, but the sucking only got stronger. It was like they were running in place, the force against them was so great. One of them, an older man in his fift
ies, slipped. He fell against the woman, making her lose her footing, and the two of them disappeared into the Mop Top’s head. The third person, a thin man with patchy facial hair, screamed as he was sucked into the void.
Eating three people should’ve expanded the monster’s stomach like a balloon, but its waist line remained unchanged. If the people weren’t sucked up as food, what did the Mop Top want with them? Watching a fourth person fly into the thing’s head reminded me that this wasn’t my fight. I was only here to pay off a debt to Sam.
“Well.” I clapped my hands together. “This has been fun. I’ll meet you out by the car?”
Sam grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. “We can’t.”
The words didn’t sound like a request. It was more than that. A sense of service. Sam knew if we didn’t help these people, they were good as gone. I wanted to gag—to tell the almost-angel to grow up. But, before I told her off, the overhead lights caught her eyes in such a way that they looked like a sad cat.
Bless it all. Can’t say no to that.
“Fine,” I said. “Any bright ideas?”
“Close its mouth?”
I rubbed my chin. Hmm. The drugs seemed to have made the monster off-balance, as it was swinging wildly around. I doubted the thing acted that way because it wanted to, but what did I know? I’d never seen anything like this. Ever.
Watching the monster stumble about, I noticed that its movements didn’t have any rhyme or reason. If Sam and I avoided the black hole in its head, maybe the two of us could take it down. The sooner that happened, the sooner I could go home and unwind with a Magnum-sized bottle of 2012 Ridge Monte Bello. I’d saved that 1.5-liter behemoth for a night just like this.
Then again, if Sam and I screwed up, we’d find out firsthand where the monster’s black hole sent people, be it the great unknown, an interdimensional intestinal system, or a dollar store public restroom.
“I’ll tackle it from behind,” I said. “When I’ve got the Mop Top on the floor, hit him with your white lightning special.”
Sam nodded. I moved around behind the crowd, taking care to keep the black hole out of my eyesight. If it couldn’t see me, then chances were good I wouldn’t get sucked into a My Little Pony convention or some infinite nightmare. Most of the conference room had cleared out by this point, either from people making their escape or getting sucked into oblivion, so I didn’t have anything in my way when I dove and rolled under a table as the monster turned toward me, sucking up the people I moved past.
The Mop Top moved again, leaving its back to me. The claws extended from my fingers. I dashed toward it, jumping on the monster’s back. My momentum knocked us down. I dug my claws into its throat. It tried to pull away from my grip, but my rogue strength held out as warm blood flowed onto my hands.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I called out.
Sam ran over, making sure to stay behind the Mop Top. She slammed her hands on each side of the black hole, lighting up her palms into bright white. She was ready to attack with the Hand of God. All angels, even ones that weren’t all the way there, were gifted with the power of the Hand of God. It gave them the ability to coerce and smite people, and even knock down walls. Sam slammed her hands down on the thing, the Hand of God shooting into the darkness.
The Mop Top squealed. The sucking increased in power. Plants on the opposite side of the conference room flew into the thing’s head. Tables moved. Silverware flew past my face. I turned my head to keep the moneymaker safe, and noticed the walls were cracking.
Awesome.
The monster writhed around, unable to withstand the Hand of God’s power. The inside of its head lit up a bright orange and I removed my hands from its throat; a thick blue liquid dripped from my claws. I took a few steps back, flicking the goo off as I moved. The head was almost blindingly white now, ready to blow up at any mom–
The head exploded before I could finish my thought. Bits of Mop Top flew everywhere. The blast threw Sam forward and me backward.
Sam sat up, staring blankly at the Mop Top’s body. If she wasn’t in shock, she would be soon enough. She was covered with the monster’s remains—both of us were. My suit was ruined. I’d switched to buying stain-free clothes after meeting Sam, but when the clothes were manufactured, an exploding Mop Top head probably hadn’t been on their radar.
And I’d thought serving homeless people soup would be a safe place for my wardrobe. I scooped some goo off my forehead and flung it to the floor.
“See,” I said. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“What wasn’t?” Sam asked.
“Getting inside a man’s head.”
A small smile escaped her lips. Good. Last thing I needed was her melting down. Mostly because I was about to myself, and one of us needed to keep it together.
“That was–” she started.
I heard a crunch to my left. The wall was cracked in several places, but only one of the cracks held my attention. It slinked up toward the ceiling, spitting out dust and cement along the way. Once it reached the ceiling, the wall would most likely give out. The building would be next. That would happen sooner rather than later, so it was past time to leave.
There was a scream near the wall’s base. The younger homeless girl—the possible Meth addict—sat huddled, shaking; her arms wrapped around her legs with a death grip.
Right.
By.
The.
Weakening.
Wall.
Bless it all.
The girl had fallen on hard times. She didn’t need a building to flatten her too. It reeked of overkill.
“Go,” I said to Sam. “I’ll get her.”
Sam stopped. “You’re going to save that girl?”
“Shut up.” I didn’t stop to see if Sam left while I ran to the girl. I put my arm around her and gently helped her up. I tried to nudge her toward the exit but she wouldn’t move. Her face was frozen in shock, like she’d walked in on her parents making sweet and dirty love to each other.
Another wall cracked with a snap. Much as having a building fall on me sounded like fun, especially with my suit already ruined, it wasn’t on my to-do list.
“You hear that?” I asked. “The building is coming down. You can be here when that happens if you want, but I’m leaving. Do you want to come with me?”
The girl closed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“A lot of things,” I said. “But this isn’t one of them.”
I led the girl outside, almost stumbling into the crowd of homeless people standing around; their eyes glued to the building in hopes of watching it go down. I held my breath as we moved through the crowd, avoiding the stench of soup, body odor, and bad breath. Sam stood just past the group of people, pacing back and forth, a hand over her mouth. We joined her, and like the curious people in front of us, I turned to watch the building, excited to see it collapse. I didn’t like getting stuck in a collapsing structure, but witnessing it from a safe distance was free entertainment.
The building fell apart in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t on the level of a stadium getting demolished, but I enjoyed the show. The steel collapsing, the glass shattering, and the dangerous chemicals being released in a cloud of dust were a feast for the eyes.
“Let me go.” The younger girl suddenly jerked herself away from me. “You did this. Both of you.”
How could the woman even believe that? I wondered how much meth and PCP it had taken to rot her brain to the point that nothing remained but cobwebs and a couple of dead spiders.
“Guess again, sweetheart.” I gestured toward the building. “I wish I had. Believe me. I really, really wish I had.”
Destroying a building on church property? Awesome—even if the Mop Top had done the deed with its crazy sucking power. All I got to do was help an angel-in-training blow up a head that doubled as a portal to somewhere else.
“Shame on you.” The girl pointed at us. “We only wanted some food.”
“We gave you so
me soup.” What more did she want? Soup that wasn’t laced with hallucinogens? “You realize you’re still alive because I got you out of there, right?”
“Shove it up your ass.” The girl turned and disappeared into the night.
“Not a thank you or anything,” I said. “Whatever happened to manners?”
“She’s not entirely wrong,” Sam said. “You did sort of do this.”
“We did it. If I’d done it, my suit wouldn’t have been ruined.”
CHAPTER THREE
You Say It's Almost Your Birthday
I convinced Sam that we didn’t need to stick around for the fire department, or whoever else would rush to check out a demolished building. Any authority figures who saw us would want to play twenty questions about what happened, and whether anybody was trapped in the rubble, and while I’d probably tell them the truth to enjoy their stunned and disbelieving reactions, Sam would try to sidestep the issue. Not that she’d lie, but Heaven wouldn’t want word of a Mop Top sucking people into oblivion getting out, especially amongst mortals. These people wigged out at news that two inches of snow was on the way. If they found out about the existence of a Mop Top… There’d be chaos, riots, even massive amounts of sinning.
At least I’d hope so.
Regardless, Sam knew better than to put herself in that sort of compromising position, and fled the scene with me.
We watched the ruckus from across the street, as fire trucks and ambulances turned onto the church grounds to check out the mess that the Mop Top had made. Some police cars joined in the fun; their flashing red and blue lights reflecting off my hand as I sucked on a cigarette. The smoke in my lungs felt refreshing. It didn’t matter that I was no longer a demon; I still loved smoke, which reminded me of Hell.
“Can I have one?” Sam asked, seemingly lost in the scene.
My eyes bulged. Sam wanted a smoke? It wasn’t against the rules for angels to light up, but after all the times she’d preached to me about quitting? Maybe a brick had landed on her head in there.