by Nola Cancel
But, he also knew this was not the time to dwell on what-ifs or could-have-beens. He was too busy studying another two angels that had popped into his life.
As he marveled, once again, at the miracle in front of him, one angel disappeared and reappeared in the blink of an eye.
When he returned, there was a beautiful ball of light at the angel’s side. It was brighter than anything he’d ever seen, and it gave off an electrical charge that made the hair on Joe’s arms stand up. Whatever it was, he was positive the orb was alive.
Michael stared at the orb that Manakel had brought back and wept openly. He knew he was watching Maria’s soul and it was every bit as beautiful as she had been.
The orb floated in mid-air, as if suspended by an invisible string. Ever so slowly, it circled around Michael. He lifted his arm and opened his hand. The orb danced above it before settling down in Michael’s palm.
His body shook as if electrified. The power of Maria’s love emanated from the orb as Michael became one with her soul. A voice that only he could hear said, “Do not grieve. I am fine. My love for you cannot be stopped by death. It will endure till the end of time as will I. We will see each other again, I know it. Till then, stay strong and be happy. I love you, Michael, forever and always.”
Michael watched as the soul of the only woman he had ever loved apparated along with Manakel.
“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered.
Gabriel looked around at the mess that remained. Malachi’s blood splattered cell phone, Azriel’s wasted essence, Belial's hideous metal wings and a staggering amount of feathers lost in battle.
“You know what must be done.” Gabriel looked at Michael still sitting on the ground.
“I do,” he said.
Gabriel reached down to help his friend. “I cannot say I understand what happened here,” Gabriel said, looking directly into Michael’s eyes, “but the questions will wait for the council. I will pray for you, brother.”
Gabriel hugged Michael in a tight embrace. When they separated, he was gone and Michael’s physical wounds were healed.
“It is time to go,” Michael said, turning to Joe. “But first…” He picked Joe up like a father carries their child. The second they touched, Joe felt the same body consuming tremor he had experienced just hours ago. Once again, he was soothed by the rush of warmth as it continued to spread over every part of his body until he was completely whole and well for a second time today.
When Michael put him down, there were tears in Joe’s eyes. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say.
Joe did a quick check on himself, both inside and out. Except for a nasty scar on both sides of each hand, he was completely healed.
“Now what?” he asked, looking around and trying to remember what he had once loved about this place.
“We must destroy any evidence that cannot be explained to a human,” Michael replied. “We must burn it down.”
Joe and Michael began searching for anything they could use to start a fire. Joe found some gasoline in the back office that, at one time, had been used to power the ride. With Michael’s help, they began pouring the fluid on the floors and walls.
When they were done, every part of the building had been doused with the flammable liquid. Taking one last look around, the cost of what had happened in this room was not lost on either one of them.
Lost in their own thoughts, a loud noise interrupted them. They both turned in time to see Mr. Scary/Herman stumble down the steps off the ride.
“What do you want to do?” Joe asked Michael, who stared, devoid of all emotion, at the excrement that had taken away his only chance at true happiness.
“Nothing,” Michael finally answered. “Let him be. Consider the things that Belial must have done to him.”
Joe thought about Michael’s words in silence. He watched as Mr. Scary, whose hand was as badly injured as Joe’s had been and whose face no longer resembled anything human, tripped on his own feet and landed on his ass.
“I don’t know,” Joe said, grabbing a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and putting it in his mouth. “He looks like the kind of guy who enjoys a little suffering between friends.”
Mr. Scary smiled that same stupid angel essence induced smile he wore earlier.
“Let him go, Joe.” Michael’s voice grew louder. “His death will not bring either one of them back.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right,” Joe said, pulling out a book of matches from his pants pocket and lighting his cigarette. “The only problem is…I’ve always been so fucking wrong.”
Joe flicked his lit cigarette at Mr. Scary. He watched as it bounced off him and fell in the pool of gasoline at his feet.
People who lived in Coney Island would later say they heard the gut-wrenching screams of a man the day the Hell-Hole burned to the ground. There just wasn’t enough of anything or anyone left in the ashes to prove they were right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“What will you do now?” Joe asked as Michael parked the Cadillac on the corner of Lake St. and Avenue U.
“I do not know,” Michael replied as they both got out of the car. His voice was full of exhaustion and regret. “I have to go before the council.”
“What will happen then?” Joe hoped he didn’t sound too nervous for his friend.
“I do not know, but I must place my faith in our heavenly Father to decide what is best.”
“I thought you were done with sharing one mind and wanted to choose for yourself how you continue your existence?” Joe looked at Michael to see if he had crossed another line.
“It would seem, Joseph,” Michael said, fighting to hold it together, “that was not meant to be. Making my own choices cost me the greatest gift I was ever given.”
Joe thought about this for a few minutes. “Or maybe,” he said, “you would have never met her if you didn’t make your own choice. We must all live with the consequences of every decision we make. My father, John, and even that piece of shit Belial all made the wrong choices during their time here. But, I don’t know a human being alive who would rather have their freedom taken away because they’re afraid of making a mistake.” Joe looked at Michael and hoped he was listening. “Our right to choose our own path is what makes love more meaningful and life worth living.”
“Thank you, Joe,” Michael said, “for everything”.
“Will I see you again?” Joe asked, his voice cracking.
“Aren’t you tired of angels yet?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Joe said and grabbed Michael in a warm embrace. “Yous guys are alright.”
The two friends separated and Joe continued, “And you never realize how bad you need one until an angel shows up and changes your life.”
“Goodbye, Joseph.”
“Goodbye, Michael,” Joe said, but the angel was already gone.
Joe opened the passenger side door of the car and retrieved his black leather wallet from the glove compartment.
LaTorre Bakery was across the street and Nan would kill him if he didn’t walk in the house with her chocolate cannolis.
Joe never looked both ways when crossing any street and this time was no different. He also never saw the blue Camaro blow the red light on the corner and come straight at him doing 50 mph.
Instead, he felt a strong push against his chest, propelling him backwards where the car missed him by millimeters.
“Will this fucking day never end? Thanks, Mikey,” Joseph DeFalco whispered as the first day of his new life began.
Epilogue
The Hell-Hole went up in a glorious burst of multicolor flames just as he knew it would.
Whatever had occurred inside, there was no doubt that a cleansing of this magnitude would follow.
Sitting in a cherry-red, 1969 Camaro Super-Sport, twin turbo, supercharged nitrous breathing monster, across the street from the popular old ride, he waited patiently for the victors—whoever they were—to emerge. In an
instant, he had his answer.
Mr. Scary’s anguished screams went on for a full minute and a half. It would take a whole lot longer to regain any semblance of rational thought.
“Where am I?” he finally said, turning to face the person in the car with him.
The last thing he remembered was being dumped in a ditch by some nasty bitch and her super-human watchdog who just happened to have wings. But that couldn’t be right. His head was so foggy and he was having trouble recalling anything that came after that.
“You are in my car,” the handsome young man with the long black hair said. “We are in Coney Island, in Brooklyn—”
“I know where Coney Island is,” Mr. Scary
interrupted, growing increasingly angry at his own memory loss. His hands clenched into hard fists as he struggled to restrain himself and not beat the life out of the guy who was speaking.
“How did I get here?”
“That, my friend, is a long story,” the driver answered. “One that requires much time and a willingness to believe the impossible. If you can do that, I will explain everything.”
Mr. Scary weighed his desperate need to know what had happened to him against his overwhelming desire to rip this asshole's head off.
“Considering the little I do remember about today, I’m pretty certain I would believe just about anything,” Mr. Scary replied, knowing something else with a certainty—when he had the answers he needed, he was gonna kill this pretty boy and own, from what he could tell in his seat, a really sweet car.
“Then let’s be off,” the driver said as he started the car, seemingly without the benefit of a key. “There is much to do and little time to waste.”
“Where are we going?” Mr. Scary asked, suddenly wondering if this guy was just another homo looking to suck his cock. “Is it far?”
“Incredibly close for some, impossibly far for others.”
“What the hell does that mean? Who the fuck are you?” Mr. Scary asked, genuinely curious.
“I am No One,” Bub said with a snicker as they drove away, the muscle car spitting it’s fiery nitrous flames. “And it’s funny you should mention hell.”
The End … Fuhgettaboutit…
Nola Cancel is a freelance writer and ex-pat New Yorker living with her husband of 30 years in Largo, Fl.
She has written for Women’s World Magazine and The St. Pete Times, as well as many other publications.
Her first book, Anne Rice The Interviews: A Compilation of Interviews with the Iconic Author on Everything from the Writing Process to Her Extraordinary Life, has been called, ‘A must read for any fan of Anne Rice. The broad spectrum questions asked by Nola Cancel give the reader a deeper intimacy into the inner workings and thoughts of the author’s mind, even more so than the author’s popular Facebook page.’ (Amazon reviewer, Books4Life; Dec. 2014)
She is the mother of the undisputed “cutest dog in the world,” her English Bull-dog, Chunkie.