Angels and the Bad Man

by M. K. Gibson

  “What kind of name is Gothenberg?” TJ asked, running his finger along our route.

  “I dunno. How about Kearney?” I asked, laughing a little.

  “Not bad,” TJ smiled. “What about this one. Concordia. Con-CORD-dia,” TJ said, affecting a voice of “fancy speak.” “If you ever change your name again, this is the one you should choose.”

  I shot the kid a smiling stink-eye. “Not my style. Besides, I already have a very specific naming convention. Wait, who told you I had different names?”

  “Grimm,” TJ said, continuing to look at the map. “He said you’ve been around a long time and because of it, you’ve had to change your name.”

  “Well, he isn’t wrong,” I said, lighting a smoke. “But I think he needs to not tell the world my secrets.”

  “I hardly count as the world. Where do you think he is?” TJ asked. “You’d think he’d be with you if he could.”

  I’d thought the same thing many times. Especially when I was in prison. I tried not to dwell on it. When I busted TJ out of prison, he told me Grimm went on some kind of . . . mission, shortly after I was incarcerated. I get that he had a life outside of me. But I honestly thought he’d show up and break me out. And now that I was out in the middle of Nebraska, I could sure use his guidance.

  And his friendship.

  “What the holy shit?!” TJ said as he almost dropped the flashlight.

  “What?!” I said, my head turning to look for danger as my hand went to the guns on my hip.

  “No freaking way.”

  “What?!”

  “What’s the name of the place you’re supposed to find?”

  “The Temple of Solomon. Why? Don’t tell me you found it on a map of Nebraska?”

  “No, not exactly, but close. What directions did Chael give us back in the cave right before he disappeared?”

  “We were supposed to go southeast until we found the river which ‘bore the name’. I never heard of a ‘Chael River’ before.”

  “How about the Solomon River?” TJ asked.

  “What?”

  “Look,” TJ said, pointing to the map.

  Sure as shit, there it was, the Solomon River. I traced the winding river across Kansas right to . . . freaking Solomon, Kansas.

  “No freaking way,” I said, echoing TJ’s sentiment. “Chael!” I called out.

  “What?” a deep rumbling voice came from outside the rest stop.

  “Come here,” I said, then added, “please.”

  A few moments later I heard the echoing stomps of the shirtless giant as he walked to TJ and me. With only a flashlight illuminating his chalky white skin and pure black hair, he looked like a massive masculine version of those creepy-as-hell backwards-walking Korean ghost girls.

  “Is this where we’re supposed to go?” I asked, pointing to the town of Solomon.

  Chael bent down from his ten-foot height and examined the map. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked as Chael stood back up to his full height and began walking away.

  “I just remembered,” the giant muttered as he walked into the rest stop’s open foyer. Looking around, the big man plopped down. “I’m hungry.”

  “Then you’re in luck. We have a ration pack and some Abomination steaks. Come on, TJ.” I beckoned for the kid to follow. “Let’s go get some kindling and some rocks for a cook fire.”

  TJ nodded and brought his flashlight. Within a few minutes we’d gathered enough wood and stone to cobble together a modest campfire. A quick shot from my blaster and the wood caught fire. I stoked the flames to a decent heat. With the heater from The Outrider, we had that place cozy in no time.

  With the doors and windows of the place long gone, I wasn’t too worried about smoke inhalation. I knew it was safer to have a fire outdoors, but I didn’t want the firelight to give away our position to anyone, or anything, out there.

  Within an hour, we had comfort and food. With full bellies, harrowing adventures, and miles of road behind us, the three of us lay in our makeshift bedrolls with a thousand yard stare brought on by simple contentment.

  Being in that crumbling brick building, with only a dying fire’s flickering light to see by, gave me the peaceful illusion of three friends out on a camping trip. We all felt grateful, if only for the moment, to have our lives as uncomplicated as possible. It would all change soon and the dangers would come again, but damn it, it was nice to just . . . be.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hope

  From flat on my back, I sipped at one of the flasks Ehawee had provided between taking puffs from a cigarette. It wasn’t much, but there are times in a person’s life when they’re down when something as simple as a smoke and a drink can make one the master of their own universe once again. I listened to TJ ask Chael a nonstop barrage of questions. For a boy who claimed to be exhausted, he seemed to have found another reserve of energy.

  “So where did you go?” TJ asked.

  “Away,” Chael responded as he looked at his hands the same way a baby did when it realized it had hands.

  “You left us, man. We were in danger.”

  “You lived. I waited for you; you did not show up. You are too slow.”

  “But why did you go?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Her.”

  “What, the Thunderbird? Wakinyan?”

  “Is that her name here? In other lands and in other minds her name was different. Perhaps her echo here was what made me fear the name upon my own lips.”

  “Yeah, totally,” TJ agreed while looking at me for support.

  I smirked. “You’re on your own kid. I had my Q and A with him in prison. I dare you to ask about a bunny.”

  “I’m still unhappy about that,” Chael said, slowly flapping his arms. “How does she fly?”

  “Do you have any brothers and sisters?” TJ asked.

  “Many.”

  “What about your parents? Are they as big as you?”

  “Bigger. And smaller. Vast and endless. But their parenting was . . . old school.”

  “Are they alive?”

  “Possible. I have not talked to them in a long time. Or perhaps, they stopped listening to me as I no longer am capable of speaking their language. I am tired,” Chael announced, and then fell flat on his back, unresponsive.

  “What about you, Salem?” TJ asked, turning his attention to me.

  “What about me?”

  “Is it true your parents are like, dead, but alive?”

  “Is this another thing Grimm told you?”

  “No, not Grimm. People just . . . talk, I guess. Something I heard. They say you talk to them—your parents, that is—and that they’re in your head, and that they are also ghosts in your underground house. Is that true?”

  I smiled. No reason to have secrets with TJ. Hell, the kid and I had been through almost as much as Grimm and I had.

  “Yeah, it’s true . . . mostly. My parents are technically dead. Their bodies are kept kind of alive deep underground in my lair. Their minds are mapped by supercomputers, creating AI versions of them. Hologram projectors allow them to interact in the lair. And sometimes their AI signal can ride shotgun in my own internal processors.”

  “So, you can talk to them, all the time?”

  “No, not all the time. Like now. If I tried to connect to home, then Maz and the demons would know. Part of my atonement is I have to fly solo on this mission. If I reach back, then I jeopardize everyone.”

  TJ nodded. “Dude, thanks. Thanks for doing all this. I wish my dad was like you.”

  “Hey,” I said, pointing at TJ. “Don’t. Your dad loves you.”

  “I know, I know. I just wish he was . . . cool.”

  I conjured a mental image of Taylor. The tall, lanky hick mechanic was almost a bad typecast from books and movies. Always greasy. Always in his overalls. But Taylor had heart. And I never knew a time he wasn’t there to help. And damn
it, that counted for something.

  But, yeah, he was a bit of a dork.

  “Dork or not, he’s cool in my book,” I said. “Did you know he was with the warriors of Midheim when they assaulted the Tower of Abraxas to help me?”

  “No,” TJ said with a curious look. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Your dad was the door gunner on a Cyberai helicopter. The crazy SOB laid down a ton of fire that kept the warriors safe. He’s a good man who’s saved my life.”

  TJ nodded for a moment. “Cool.”

  “Yeah, cool.”

  “Was your dad cool?”

  I frowned and lit a cigarette. “I guess. We . . . we had our issues.”

  “Don’t you talk to him all the time now?”

  “Yes . . . no. Not really. He’s there if I need him, but he and mom . . . well, it’s complicated,” I said as memories of the past came flooding back. I pushed the feelings back down as much as possible while sipping from the flask of booze.

  “Hey, Salem?”

  Yeesh, didn’t this kid ever get tired? “Hey, TJ, come on man, it’s late. We need some sleep. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

  “Last question, I promise.”

  “OK, shoot.”

  “What was the old world like?” the boy asked. “I mean, I’ve seen old movies and stuff. But, what was it like? A world without demons?”

  I lay back down and threw an arm over my face. “It was nice, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “It was . . . what’s the right word . . . plain? Yeah, plain. Most people didn’t believe in demons or gods. People went to work, raised families and all that bullshit.”

  “At least there weren’t any demons to fight.”

  I shook my head. “No, there weren’t. But there was always something to fight.”

  “Like what?”

  “One another mostly,” I said absently. The question had merit, and the truth was, we did mostly fight one another.

  “People . . . people just suck. Sometimes I think we’re just built wrong. In the old world we fought about everything: race, gender, religion, class, you name it. If someone was aware of another’s difference, there was some kind of fight over it. People are inherently drawn to fighting. We band together with a bunch of like-minded assholes and then lash out and kill anyone who thinks differently. And when all the enemies are gone, we find a new reason to fight. I tell you what, in many ways, G-Day was just what mankind needed. A big fucking reminder that we’re no better than demons if all we do is slaughter one another.”

  I took another sip and another puff. Then I realized it was very quiet. Sitting up, I saw TJ sitting across the fire pit from me.

  Tears streamed down the boy’s face.

  “TJ?”

  “What’s the point then?” TJ croaked through his tears. “Why even bother?”

  “Yes, what is the point then?” Chael asked as he looked at us both.

  “Oh, oh shit. Kid, it’s OK,” I said, putting my flask down. I moved over to TJ and put an arm around him. “Shh, it’s OK. I was just rambling. Damn bison-made moonshine, eh?”

  “You weren’t kidding,” TJ sobbed. “If the old world was shit, and the new world is shit, then what’s the point? If we save the town, what next? The next threat will come along then the next and the next. Demons will always enslave us. And what if one day we beat them? Does it matter if we’re just going to be like them? Killing each other all over again?”

  Jesus, the kid was too young and too good to suffer these thoughts.

  “Yes, you are correct,” Chael said. “Everything comes to a creeping end. Muscles of independence and thought atrophy under the yoke of oppression, and the lash of apathy. All life will plummet from the cliffs of despair, finally bringing the end of all with the roaring end which welcomes the blissful silence.”

  “See!” TJ said, putting his hand over his face, his body shuddering with deep sobs.

  “What? What Chael said? Fuck Chael. No offense, big guy.”

  Chael growled as he began to rise, angered.

  “Come on, man. You’re possessed by the Deep Ones. Everything third thing you say is complete nutters.”

  “That . . . is true.” Chael nodded in agreement and sat back down.

  TJ didn’t react. And my skills with child-rearing were rusty. So, I had to just be me. Pulling another of the flasks from my coat pocket, I unscrewed the top and put it in the kid’s hands. “Drink this.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Drink,” I insisted. TJ obeyed and his face made a twisted look as he swallowed.

  “Why do you drink this?”

  “Because I’m an idiot. And you need to realize that by now. Look, I know I said some messed-up things about humanity, but you have to realize there is more to us than my stupid ramblings.”

  “Like what?”

  I took the flask and took a sip, then passed it back. “Yeah, people can be crap, that’s true. But, mankind also created art and poetry. They conquered diseases and built bridges. Whenever someone said something was impossible, a human with steel in their spine and the right amount of grit would say ‘Oh yeah? Watch me.’ We went to the moon and put probes on other planets. We have a spirit that cannot be broken. Yeah, we’ve been kicked in the nuts with this whole Reign of Hell thing, but I tell ya TJ, there is something else. Something that sets us apart.”

  “What?”

  “Tacos?” Chael offered.

  “What? No,” I said, staring at the big man until he looked sheepishly away. “No, not tacos. We have hope.”

  “Hope?” TJ scoffed. “What good is that? I’m just a kid and even I know hope just gets you dead.”

  “TJ, look at me,” I said. The boy didn’t move, so I raised my voice “Look at me.”

  TJ obeyed, looking into my eyes. “I’m old, TJ. I know you know that. But I want . . . I need you to know this: Hope is the most powerful thing on this planet.”

  TJ opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. “No. Not yet. You see, when I was in prison, it was hope that kept me going another day. I told myself I had to let go of hope in order to survive. But not a day went by that I didn’t hope someone would come and save me.”

  “But no one came.”

  “Didn’t matter,” I said with a shake of my head. “It didn’t matter one fucking bit. What mattered was that I kept going. That I didn’t quit. That I got up each day and kept moving. Some people will tell you that’s called guts, or courage. And I’m here to tell you that’s bullshit. It’s hope.”

  I let the kid go for a second and lit a smoke as I rubbed at my eyes. “When I was in the first demon war, kid, I was scared out of my mind. And I mean all the time. I was freezing and starving for years. When we weren’t killing demons, we were hiding in places just like this one. And through all of it, it was hope that kept me more alive than any weapon. During the second war, amid all the horrible, shady shit I did, it was hope that kept me focused on one day being human again. And when I lost my hope, I lost my way. It was Grimm, Vidar, Vali and people like your dad who made me see hope for what it really is.”

  “What is it?” TJ asked as he sniffed back more tears.

  “Goddamnit, TJ!” I said, my voice rising on its own. “Hope is the only fucking thing that effects change. You see something horrible, and you hope. You hope for a better world so much that you eventually fucking do something about it. I HOPE there is a better day for not just you or Löngutangar, but for all of humanity. I have to hope. It’s . . . it’s all I have left, kid.”

  “What if there is no hope?”

  Sighing, I stood up and took another drag off my smoke. I pulled out one of my guns and tossed it into TJ’s lap. The kid looked at it as if I’d just tossed a live cobra on him.

  “If there’s no hope, then put that in your mouth. I know I’ve thought of doing it thousands of times. But I’m still fucking standing.”

  I turned and walked outside into the cold night air. I pulled out my pack
of smokes and looked at them. I knew that I’d run out, and that I should ration my bad habit.

  Screw it, I thought, and lit one anyway.

  “You were cruel,” Chael said as he approached me. He paused to loom directly behind me like he did when we were in prison. “I approve.”

  “He needed to hear it. He has to know that even in a world of shit, even the slightest glimmer of something good is enough to cling to. A distant star to aim towards and sail, no matter how bad the storm is.”

  “You’re affirming yourself, not justifying your words.”

  “And you’re drooling on my head again,” I said, moving away from the giant. “Where did you go?”

  “Away. The presence of The Storm felt like a test of faith, of which I have none. All I can see before me is the destruction of creation and the simple quiet of non-existence.”

  “Why do you want me to take The Tears?”

  “It brings change. Change is required. A return to the old or the evolution to the new. You are a bringer of change.”

  “Thanks?”

  “And you’re ugly.”

  I sighed, then took another drag off the smoke. Dawn was a couple of hours away, and I needed some sleep. I finished the smoke and flicked the butt into the darkness, then turned to head back inside.

  “You’re littering.”

  “I bring change, remember?”

  “Salem?”

  “Yeah, Chael?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  I paused and looked back at the big man. “Where are you going?”

  “I go to prepare the way. I cannot see that which lies beyond. But I do know that regardless of the outcome, I will cease to be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The closer we get, the more that comes back, here,” Chael said, tapping his head. “But I feel more of me being lost at the same time. Pay no mind, for I have none to give. Continue to the place on the map. Trust no one. Find the Temple. Find The Tears. Take them and bring the change the world needs or fears.”

  “What will happen when I take them?”