by Jeff Kirvin
A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
The trucks lurched into the Underground headquarters later that night, moving from their hiding places only after the thunder of the angels’ rockets had long faded away to the north. Daniel and Ricardo were among the first off the trucks, and helped with the unloading. A lot of people didn't make it, both prisoners and rescuers. Among the dead was Bob, who died of a chest wound in transit. Ricardo took the news calmly, then went to his office, the planning room.
Daniel followed. “That was a little cold, don't you think?"
Ricardo sat down behind his desk, the only substantial piece of furniture in the room other than the conference table, and pulled out a bottle of tequila. He uncapped it and took a swig straight from the bottle. “Yeah, probably. Bob was the first person I met in the Underground, the one that brought me here in the first place, just like he brought you. But I thought you understood, Daniel. This is war. People die. It's inevitable. We saved more people than we lost tonight, so in my book that's a victory. Bob will be missed."
Ricardo took a long pull from the bottle. “But the war goes on."
Daniel walked out of the office and returned to the trucks. Just outside the nearest truck, an emergency medical station had been set up. Daniel saw two men lowering a third into a chair. “What's the problem?” Daniel asked.
One of the lowerers looked up, and stood up straight when he recognized Daniel. “Diabetic, sir. He says he's having a sugar reaction."
"I don't doubt it,” Daniel said.
"Animals,” the diabetic said. “They were animals."
Daniel knelt by the man. “Excuse me?"
Someone brought over a syringe and a vial of insulin. Daniel watched as the man carefully measured out his dosage, then shot it into his left leg. Only then did the man relax.
"I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm in a bit of a snit. Lewis Malone."
"Daniel Cho.” They shook hands. The man's grip was firm and strong.
"I was in that hell hole for only three days, but not once did they allow me any insulin. They knew I was a diabetic, but—"
"That was the point, sir,” Daniel said. “The whole reason for that place is to remove those Michael considers genetically defective from the gene pool. With most people, the angels have to exterminate them eventually. With people dependant on medication to survive, they can just ignore you until you die. It's even worse for hemophiliacs. I'm told they don't often make it to the cells. They're cut coming off the bus, and bleed to death right there in the courtyard."
"Animals,” Malone said again.
"Are you feeling any better now?” Daniel asked, gesturing to the syringe.
"Much,” Malone said. “Thank you."
Daniel smiled and moved on. A couple of people were trying to help an old man down from the next truck, but he was having none of it.
"Get your hands off me? What do I look like, an invalid? I can get down on my own!"
Seeing he was the last one in the truck, Daniel waved the helpers away and sat on the edge of the truck. The old man stood and stared at him.
Daniel returned the stare. “So you going to get down or not?"
Looking daggers at Daniel, the old man tried to clamber over the edge, but lost his footing. Daniel was there instantly to gently lower the man to the ground. The old man shook off the assistance. “I knew what I was doing!"
Daniel nodded, then leaned against the truck. “Mmm hmm. So what's a spry youngster like you doing in a Care Center?"
The man started to answer, then stopped himself to take a closer look at Daniel. “Wait a second,” he said. “I know you. You're that demon catcher guy, Chang, Chong ... Cho! Daniel Cho!"
Daniel took a small, perfunctory bow.
The old man stuck out his hand. “Ira Rosenbaum. Pleased to meet you."
Daniel shook the man's hand, then repeated his question. “What were you in for?"
"Eh,” the man said, waving dismissively. “With those thugs, who needs a reason anymore? Something wrong with my genes, they said. It doesn't matter. They don't need excuses anymore, come on, they run the planet, for crying out loud."
Ira looked around, then leaned closer to Daniel. “I'll tell you something. It isn't just medical anymore. A few weeks before they took me, I noticed some problems with my neighbor. Nice guy, typical overworked gentile. He must have worked twelve-hour days at some big shot business in the city, not counting the commute, and most weekends too. He didn't spend much time at home, and the wife worked too. Over time, the man's lawn got a bit messy. One night, an angel dropped by in one of their big golden cars and told him to mow his lawn. The guy said okay, but you know the type; he forgot. A few days later I hear this big commotion over there at night. I get up the next morning and the guy and his family are gone.
"My parents, they told me stories about times like these. They lived in Poland in the late thirties, early forties. They survived the camps, even managed to stay together, but most of their friends weren't so lucky. I just thank God neither of them is alive to see what the world's become, to see the madness has returned."
Daniel said nothing; he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound trite.
"Well, thanks for the rescue, Mister Cho. I gotta find the john. Excuse me.” The old man wandered off, loudly asking the way to the facilities. Deep in thought, Daniel watched him go.
An hour or two later, after all the trucks were unloaded and moved out, a sense of calm returned to the Underground. Any plans of a victory party were squashed by the reminders of the enormous cost of the rescue, and soon everything was squared away again. Which was exactly what Lewis Malone was waiting for.
Soon after he was deemed okay and left alone, he began exploring the building. He found what he was looking for after only fifteen minutes of searching. A tiny niche behind some huge wooden packing crates, it was dark and out of the way, the perfect hiding place. From his pants pocket, Malone took a small electronic device. After turning it on, he carefully placed it in the corner, out of sight.
Walking away from the device, Malone's eyes sought out Daniel Cho. The rebel stood near a group of the others. Malone was disgusted with the rebel's smug attitude, and the deference the others gave him. But that would all change soon enough.
Breach of Faith
"This is Susan Richardson, with this Heavenly News Update.
"Tragedy struck last night as improperly stored fuel in a motorpool caused an explosion in a Care Center south of Los Angeles. Authorities believe that a fire broke out late last night which in turn caused multiple barrels of gasoline to explode. The explosive force and fire devastated the compound resulting in the fatalities of most of the patients, as well as many of their angelic caretakers. Though internal combustion engines have long been outlawed for personal vehicles, they are still legal and common for industrial use. Michael is personally looking into the incident, and has said that steps will be taken to insure that it never happens again.
"Rumors that the explosions were the result of an Underground terrorist assault are completely unfounded, and should be ignored."
Susan was miserable. She realized shortly after Daniel had left that he'd been right after all, and that she'd been too blinded by all the perceived good the angels had done to see it. The very day Michael declared Daniel a heretic, Susan began looking into the allegations Daniel had made.
The results shocked and angered her, but she stayed, thinking she could help more by being the voice of reason in the media, by trying to tone down the angels from the inside. The world had been through so much death and chaos, she didn't want to start another revolution.
She'd tried to do all those things, but in the end, she had to admit nothing had changed. If anything, things had gotten worse the longer Michael was in power, and she remained nothing more than a puppet, her only consolation that she, unlike so many others, could see the strings.
Susan knew quite well what had happened the night before. She knew the rumors she'd just t
old people to discount were the real truth, the truth she'd sworn as a journalist to tell. She knew what the Care Centers were, she knew what the Underground had done, and she knew, even though she had no proof whatsoever, that Daniel had been there.
She thought of him often, out there fighting the ever-growing injustice while she remained the mouthpiece of ... of what?
Inhuman monsters? The angels certainly weren't human, but even after all she'd seen, Susan still believed they meant well. Then again, according to what Daniel had told her, Satan believed the same thing. Who was right?
Maybe it was the power, she reasoned. The power of guidance the angels and demons had possessed for millennia. Maybe they were so full of their roles as shepherds, they lost sight of what was really best for the flock.
In any case, her life was hollow, people died by the thousands every day for genetic flaws they had no control over, and while Daniel fought for those people, Susan did nothing but cover it up. One way or another, Susan swore that would change.
Obeying an urgent summons, Gabriel walked into Michael's throne room. The angel that ruled the world stared intently at one of his data screens, but looked up when Gabriel entered.
"He's in,” Michael said.
"He'd better be,” Gabriel replied. “We lost a lot in Cho's little raid."
Michael sat back on his throne, looking very regal but not impressing Gabriel in the slightest. “Yes,” he said, “but who would have thought Cho and his merry little band of outlaws would be so efficient?"
"Certainly not Adonaeth,” Gabriel said dryly.
Michael sobered a little. “That part mustn't get out. If the humans ever come to believe that one of them can fight and kill an armored angel—"
"—we wouldn't have a minor resistance, but a full-scale revolt,” Gabriel finished.
Michael smiled. “I don't know if I'd go quite that far, old friend, but you get the point. In any case, Rhaumel is in place, and he has activated the homing beacon. We now know exactly where Cho and the rest of the Underground are hiding."
"Excellent,” Gabriel said. “I'll arrange for an aerial strike immediately."
"No!” Michael said. “Aerial bombing is too high profile, too deliberate. We've spent a lot of time and effort over the past year painting the Underground as pathetic, incompetent malcontents, and if we publicly bomb them now, we bestow upon them the very credibility we've worked so long to deny.
"No, you and a strike team will go in on foot, in armor. Afterwards, we can pick any cover story we like, that a routine security patrol happened upon a den of looters, whatever. The important thing is to keep it quiet. Rhaumel will signal when they are least prepared for an attack. You will then strike hard, fast and quiet. Once word gets out in the Underground about this attack and the death of Cho, they'll lose heart. We can crush this resistance quite easily after that."
"And Richardson?"
"Yes, noticed that, did you?” Michael asked. “I don't quite know what to make of her these days. She's developing quite an attitude, and I think she knows more of what's really happening than she lets on. Still, for the moment, she's loyal, and her value as a trusted and beloved spokesperson outweighs her danger as a journalist, so caught up in some ethereal concept of truth rather than concrete and definable order.
"You know, Gabriel, things were so much easier a thousand years ago. The church listened to us, and everyone else listened to the church. We set the rules, they obeyed. No questions. Order. Now these humans are so caught up in ridiculous concepts like freedom and self-determination, as if they were actually wise enough to rule themselves effectively. Didn't the rampant chaos during their centuries of self-rule teach them anything? Don't they realize what's best for them?"
"Old friend,” Gabriel said, “sometimes I wonder if these humans should be allowed to continue the practice of their old religions and philosophies. Too many different schools of thought make it much harder to control them effectively."
Michael waved a dismissive hand. “Leave Richardson to me. I'll keep a close eye on her. I want you to concern yourself only with a successful strike. I literally want the head of Daniel Cho on my desk by morning. Go."
Gabriel assembled a strike team of his best warriors, suited up in armor, and left Heaven, “on patrol".
Gabriel had mixed emotions about what he was doing. On the whole, he agreed with the plan, but he often wondered if it came too late. Not all of the humans’ mythology and religion was bunk. Even though a great deal of it was fiction created by his people to keep the humans in line, there were often real lessons to be learned from it, even for angels.
Lately he'd been preoccupied with the story of Adam and Eve. He had become acutely aware that he was watching that ancient tale play itself out again, this time on a far grander scale. Just as Eve became poisoned to Paradise by eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, the humans were increasingly becoming poisoned to the angels by ideas of freedom. He agreed with Michael that the angels, in their immortal perspective, had the wisdom to know what was truly best for the humans and that only the angels could guide the human race efficiently as time went on. He just doubted it would happen with this group of humans.
Gabriel had tried to voice this concern to Michael on several occasions, once even detailing a plan to isolate a large group of very young children, kill off the adult population and start over from scratch. Michael generally scoffed at his concerns, confident that the angels, by virtue of nothing more than simple longevity, would win out. Gabriel wasn't so sure. Gabriel had watched humans more closely than most of his brethren, and had paid particular attention to human wars. He knew why humans fought, what they fought for and what they were willing to die for, by the millions if need be. He knew that so long as the humans had a word in their language for freedom, the angels would never be truly secure in their power base. Humans were too damn independent for their own good.
Finally, the signal he'd been waiting for flashed onto the display inside his helmet. The Underground's guard was as far down as it was going to get. It was time to strike.
Against the Wall
The attack came with no warning. The angels were inside before the sentries even knew they were there. In the first ten seconds, a dozen humans nearest the door perished in fire.
Daniel was awake, weapon in hand, before the first explosion ceased its echo. He sprang off his bunk and had a half dozen fighters at his side by the time the last angel entered the building.
"How'd they find us?” someone asked.
"Worry about that later,” Daniel said as he began firing on the lead angel. As expected, their grenades did more damage to the surrounding architecture than to the angels.
"Damn!” Daniel cursed. Already, the smoke from the multiple grenade explosions and the angels’ flame-throwers made it very difficult to see. It wouldn't be long before the smoke made it difficult to breathe.
A hand fell on Daniel's shoulder. Daniel whirled around and nearly struck Ricardo in the head with the barrel of his grenade launcher. “We have to retreat, Daniel!” Ricardo shouted over the increasing noise.
"Good idea! You get the civilians out, and I'll cover you!"
Ricardo shook his head. “I don't think so!"
Before Daniel could react, three bulky Underground fighters grabbed him from behind. “You're too valuable to risk here!” Ricardo shouted. “I'll see you at the rendezvous point!” Ricardo motioned for the emergency exit, and the three men carried Daniel away. The last thing he saw before they entered the darkened, narrow tunnels to safety was the image of Ricardo trying to organize a counterstrike against ten armored angels. He offered a prayer to whatever god Ricardo worshipped.
Ricardo hoped he hadn't just made a fatal mistake. While it was true that Daniel was too valuable to the overall resistance to risk capture, he was also a brilliant tactician, and Ricardo knew that he'd need every advantage he could get to get out of this alive.
While his men kept the angels relatively contained
with explosive blasts, the angels were giving far better than they were getting, and it wouldn't be long before they tore the place apart. Most of Ricardo's men had formed a protective wall of constant firepower to mask the escape of the civilians and those too weak or injured to fight. Due to the angels’ efficiency, Ricardo noticed they didn't have to evacuate nearly as many as he originally would have thought.
Unfortunately, the wall of protectors wasn't holding very well either, for the same reason. “Fall back!” Ricardo screamed. “Orderly retreat!"
A grenade, from the angels or an errant shot from one of his own people, he didn't know, exploded directly over his head, raining down plaster, wood and metal. “We are leaving!” he shouted.
Ricardo and a handful of others concentrated cover fire until they were the only humans left alive in the building, with seven angels bearing down on them. The angelic armor was in varying stages of disrepair, from only scratched to nearly totaled, but the angels themselves still moved with all the speed and power that was their trademark. Ricardo and his men crowded in front of the emergency exit, waiting for the angels to get close enough for Ricardo to give the order. When the angels were within ten paces, Ricardo jerked his head backwards. “Let's close the door!"
As one, the men backed into the tunnel, leaving the angels as the only living creatures in the building. When the angels rushed to follow, the men fired their grenade launchers not at the angels, but at the walls and ceiling of the tunnel entrance. Tons of rubble that had been carefully placed around the entrance months before came raining down.
"Go!” Ricardo shouted over the din. As his men retreated, Ricardo slowly followed them, walking backwards and firing more grenades to bring down more rubble. Once he was sure he'd created a barricade large enough to buy them time to escape, he turned and ran down the dark tunnel to the rendezvous.
Ricardo caught up with Daniel a short time later at the rendezvous point, where Daniel supervised the loading of the weak and injured into the trucks for the evacuation out of Los Angeles. The city wasn't safe for them anymore.