Angels and the Bad Man

by M. K. Gibson

  “You will. I need this. And I need one last thing.”

  Isaac looked up. “What more could you possibly ask of me?”

  “I need you to activate a certain program after the initial baseline is established.”

  “What program?”

  Abraham produced a flash drive. “This one.”

  Isaac stared at his father for a moment. “What does it do?”

  “It will erase a portion of my memories, and install false ones. Ones that are happier. Where we were all together more. Where I wasn’t a driven man who ignored his wife and son. Where I died in my sleep peacefully. And where I ‘awake’ as an AI who is happy to assist his son in this new world, not an angry man filled with regrets.” Abraham sobbed, choking on his words.

  “And I won’t be filled with hate for myself for doing this to you,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the other stasis tank—the one that held his dear wife, Elena. “And what you did to her.”

  “You mean you also don’t want to hate me for all eternity for . . . killing Mom,” Isaac said as his own tears welled up. “That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?”

  Shamefully, Abraham could not meet his son’s eyes, but he managed to whisper, “Yes. Will you do this for me? For us?”

  Isaac lit another smoke and sat down on a nearby computer chair. “You get to exist without the memories that I have to carry forever. How is that fair? How do you get to excuse yourself for doing this to me? For leaving me? To go on without the burden of your actions?!” Isaac asked, his voice growing angry. “How is that fair?!”

  “It isn’t,” Abraham whispered. “Son, there are things you don’t know. About me. About her. Things I thank God you don’t know. Trust me, it’s better this way. But this,” he said, holding the program, “this is a new chance. I want to exist in a world with you as your friend. ”

  Isaac took in the image of the man he’d called “Dad” all his life. The smartest man he ever knew, who was always full of confidence and always had the right answer. The way all sons see their fathers. Until the day comes when sons realize their fathers are fallible. Humans like the rest of us, making it up as they go along.

  Isaac also now saw his father as a man who both loved and hated his son. He knew then and there his father would always blame him. And that thought led him to a horrible realization.

  “The program to wipe your mind.”

  “What about it?”

  “You had it written before . . .” Isaac said, looking back at the stasis module. “Before Mom. How long have you hated me? Hated us?”

  “Isaac, I—”

  “What, Dad? Say it!” Isaac sobbed.

  “When you mother said we were pregnant, I felt . . . trapped. I was trapped. I never wanted children. My work, and Elena, were my passion. But you have to understand, over time I came to realize—”

  “Gimme the fucking needle,” Isaac said, standing and tossing his smoke aside.

  Abraham lowered his eyes and complied, passing the syringe to his son.

  “Son, I—”

  Isaac took his father into one last hug, cutting off his father’s words. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, son. I just wish that, ahhh—”

  Isaac slipped the needle into his father’s neck and pressed the plunger. His father went limp almost immediately. Isaac caught him before he hit the floor, picking him up as if he were a child.

  Isaac carried his father’s body to the awaiting stasis chamber, all the while thinking, “Now I’ve killed both of my parents.”

  ********

  My mouth hung open while my body convulsed. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left. Only the shuddering pain of loss.

  Unlike the previous visions, this one did not fade. I saw this one with perfect clarity. Everything. Every moment of their deaths with every emotion I felt then was once again fresh and raw, and my body reacted the only way it knew how.

  “Why why why?” I cried, trying to take in breath. My jaw locked open.

  While Remiel, Gabrielle, and Sariel had put obstacles in my way to prevent me from getting here, even trying to kill me, The Tears themselves was the power behind that memory. Bringing to the surface the very core of who I believed I was: the bastard responsible for his mother’s death, who was begrudgingly tolerated by a father who never really wanted a child.

  The Tears used that to make me feel how I always felt, deep down—worthless. Unworthy. It was only a brief touch of the power The Tears held, and a brief touch was all it took. Because when I looked down at my hands . . . they were empty.

  I had failed.

  “I—I’m not worthy,” I said, defeated. I pushed myself to my knees and just stared at my empty hands.

  “It was not your fault. You hold that memory incorrectly. It was an accident,” Sariel said. “And a parent’s confession does not confirm a lack of affection.”

  I ignored him.

  “You failed because your conviction wavered,” Remiel said. “You felt doubt. You made yourself unworthy. You had no faith.”

  I looked up at the spiteful archangel, narrowing my eyes at her. “How do I make myself worthy then?”

  “It does not matter,” Gabrielle interjected. “Those with hearts of great purpose may enter and try to take The Tears. However, you failed. There is no second chance.”

  “Then, it’s over,” I said, shaking my head, stunned at the thoughts of those who would die in a matter of days. And here I was, in the ass end of Kansas in a freaking pocket dimension, with no way of getting back to save them.

  “Perhaps, ” Sariel paused, choosing his words, “if you felt the innocence and conviction of purpose as . . . as a child would, you could have retrieved The Tears.”

  “Sariel!” Remiel bellowed. “Silence.”

  The Angel of Death turned on his sister. “Do not presume to command me, Remiel.”

  “Then know your place as a Guardian.”

  “What does it matter?” I asked, drawing the attention of the giant celestial beings. “You win. I failed. I made it past all your death traps. Your tests.”

  “Tests?” Gabrielle asked. “You have survived Trials of Flesh, Trials of Faith, and Trials of Will, that is true. Yet there were no ‘death traps’.”

  “You three sent the Abominations. You sent The People. You commanded Riggs to kill me. Those weren’t tests. They were executions.”

  “We did no such things,” Sariel said flatly.

  “I thought there were no lies here.”

  “Do NOT accuse us of sin!” Gabrielle commanded.

  “I’m not lying! I damn sure remember everything that happened when Chael—Michael—brought us here from Flotsam. I thought you saw everything.”

  “Mortal . . .” Sariel warned.

  But it was then I noticed something. Something that made my stomach clench. Remiel wasn’t speaking. In fact, Remiel said nothing at all. Instead she crossed her arms and stared at me with contempt. Waves of anger rolled from her.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Sariel looked down at me, then at Remiel. “Explain.”

  “Remiel, what did you do?” Gabrielle demanded.

  Remiel ignored both of them as she took a step towards me. “You should both be dead.”

  “What did you do?!” Gabrielle demanded, stepping between me and the approaching archangel.

  “What I had to, sister,” Remiel said with but a whisper as she barely touched Gabrielle’s armored shoulder. A burst of thunder and a crackle of lightning flared. The discharge sent Garbielle aside, crashing into the throne to my left.

  I backed away from the archangel. “Why do you hate me so much?” I asked her bluntly, while I looked for an escape.

  “My people allowed you to live and to leave,” Remiel explained.

  Her people? The People? Then it dawned on me. “Oh hell, you’re Wakinyan.”

  “And my daughter failed me,” Remiel said. “They disobeyed, and they shall be punished.”
>
  Sariel too stepped between us. The Angel of Death put a hand out. “Cease, sister. This will not end well. There are so few of us already.”

  Remiel stopped, but her eyes blazed with anger. “You were always too sympathetic to Father’s creations. These . . . monkeys are little better than Orphiel’s twisted vessels.”

  “We guard, and then accept the inevitable change,” Sariel warned.

  “You have no faith.”

  Gabrielle stood wearily, using the throne as support. “We too were cast away after The Great Departure.”

  “And you would throw away our purpose for change,” Remiel sneered at her sister. “Cast your lot in with—” Remiel paused, shaking her head. “It matters not. He has failed, not that he really had a chance. The real threat is being dealt with.”

  Sariel’s head turned. “Dealt with?”

  Remiel pointed towards the multifaceted crystal reflections. The crystal projected a scene into the domed ceiling and the very air before us was filled with the scene outside the Shrine. I expected perhaps to see Riggs and Chael fighting the angels.

  But I never guessed that I would see Legion. Hundreds of him. Portals in space opened and more and more of the assassins came through, attacking everything in sight. I saw Chael and Riggs fighting back. But then I saw something worse.

  TJ was pinned behind one of the white stone gazebos in the main courtyard by the fountain. Several of the Legions were opening up with automatic fire, whittling away the boy’s makeshift cover. He was balled up, making himself as small as possible. His hands were to his head and he was screaming in fear and desperation.

  “You . . . fucking . . . bitch!” I yelled, pulling my guns. “He’s just a boy!”

  Lighting crackled around Remiel. She looked at Sariel and Gabrielle. “Perhaps you are correct. Change is coming, and I see that you two welcome it.” Then the archangel turned to me. “But the Child of Hope will never reach The Tears.”

  Slapping her hands together, exploding the room in flash of lighting and and a deafening clap of thunder. I felt myself thrown backwards, hitting something hard.

  After a moment, when my ears stopped ringing, I opened my eyes and the room was still. Quiet as a tomb. Remiel was gone. Only Sariel and Gabrielle remained, both of them standing, but the look on their faces one of betrayal and loss.

  The vision of the war going on outside the shrine still showed Legion raining down hell on the angels, Chael, Riggs, and . . . TJ. Remiel must have have brought Legion, a lot of him, here with her power to finish the job.

  Well, the only thing better than killing Legion was killing a lot of him.

  “OK, I have no idea what she’s going on, but crazy bird’s gone, so let’s get out there!” I said. “Let’s kick Legion’s ass!”

  I was pumped! How often do you get to go into battle with the Angel of Death and Gabrielle the Hornblower?

  Sariel looked to Gabrielle, who shook her head. “No.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  God’s Gonna Cut You Down

  “No?!” I yelled. “Pardon any disrespect, but what the holy hell are you talking about ‘no’?”

  “We cannot,” Sariel echoed.

  “What? Why? Those are your angels. Your brothers and sisters.”

  I saw Sariel’s head shake. “And we will mourn their passing for the remainder of our days. But Gabrielle and I are needed here. The Tears of God still have a function. And three are required, at minimum, to continue that function. Remiel knew that. Two can use the power of The Tears for a short time, but it will consume us holding all of The Deep Ones at bay. Perhaps this was her final stab at securing our fidelity.”

  I looked at them, and they at me. Both reflected the sorrow of the situation. I watched the vision of what was going on out there. I didn’t know what one pissed-off cyborg could do, but damn it, I had to try.

  “Fine. Then let me out of here,” I whispered.

  Sariel looked down at me. “If you do, you will most likely perish.”

  I looked at the crystal’s image and saw the Legions attacking and killing. I nodded. “Yeah, most likely. But that’s my choice. Chael may be crazy, Riggs may be an asshole, and TJ some pain-in-my-ass kid, but they, and your angels, don’t deserve to be slaughtered by some freaking lab experiments.”

  Sariel looked to Gabrielle and the two of them shared a private thought. Sariel looked back at me and shook his head.

  “You have a formidable presence. While you are no angel, you could use your passion and your courage here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Gabrielle answered, “Sariel and I could imbue you with some of our grace. You could take a place here. You could help us guide The Light from The Tears of God.”

  Well, now that was a job offer I never expected.

  And one I couldn’t accept.

  “I already have people who count on me. I have to get out there and help them. And when that’s done, I have to do what I can to keep Löngutangar safe. You have to understand that.”

  “No,” Sariel said. “We cannot. You are being called upon for a higher purpose. Those outside are already dead, or soon will be. And Löngutangar is doomed. There is nothing you can do to help them. You must remain here where you could help countless others.”

  I stared right into Sariel’s face. “Let me out of here.”

  “No.”

  I clenched my fist. “Open the portal. Let me go.”

  “No.”

  I fired up my right tech bracer’s mass inducer, exponentially adding weight. “Open the portal.”

  “No,” he repeated.

  I activated the bracer’s shield generator, wrapping my hand in defensive energy. “Open. The fucking. Portal.”

  “No. And if you think you can attack me, you may try. Many have. Yet I remain the Angel of Blessed Mercy. The Angel of Death,” Sariel said leaning down, inviting an attack.

  I don’t know what possessed me, but I swung.

  And I connected.

  Several hundred pounds of unbreakable fist cracked the Angel of Death across his armored jawline in the blink of an eye. The sound of my force-field-enveloped fist rang out like a giant tolling bell as I struck the strange jawplate. Gabrielle and Sariel may have watched the world go by from their crystal viewing portals, but they didn’t really grasp the raw power of mankind and his technology.

  I knocked The Angel of Death on his ass.

  Sariel laughed.

  “I told you,” Sariel said to Gabrielle.

  “You were right. He is too much like his kin. He would not last here. He cannot see beyond the immediate,” Gabrielle admitted.

  “What?” I asked. “Hey, I’m right here. No need to talk about me in the third person.”

  “You may go,” Sariel said. At a gesture, a portal opened, leading back out into the temple’s garden.

  “Thank you?” I said, confused.

  Before I walked through the portal, Gabrielle stopped me. “This is for you. You will need it.”

  Gabrielle touched me on my forehead with her giant forefinger and golden fire enveloped me.

  I felt . . . awesome.

  Months of pain and weariness I hadn’t realized I was still carrying washed away. My beard burned away to my usual stubble. My matted hair crackled and burned, leaving only my normal buzzed cut. I felt body mass come back. And I felt my internal energy levels topped off.

  To be honest, I almost got a boner. But I figured a twenty-foot armored archangel wouldn’t see it as a compliment.

  Or even physically feasible.

  “Thank you. I feel . . . incredible,” I told Gabrielle, who nodded and took a step back.

  Sariel came to stand next to me. “I too have a gift for you. Two of them.” Sariel laid a giant hand on my chest and I felt like my heart was seizing. My insides boiled in a golden, molten energy. The pain stopped as suddenly as it started. Yet I felt . . . a presence within me.

  “What did you do to me?” I asked as I grabbed at m
y chest, lurching backwards.

  “A gift. A gift you may come to hate, yet you must know it exists. I have bound your soul to your body. You have one free life. One free cheat of death. When you die—and considering how you choose to live it will no doubt be soon—you may choose to return to your body. Once.”

  “Holy shit,” I blurted out. Realizing, once again, I was speaking to the Angel of Death, I sobered up. “And what’s the second gift? Is it going to hurt as much as the first?” I asked.

  “Worse.”

  “What is it?”

  “Humility.”

  The Angel of Death hit me so fast and so hard that I swear the ghost of Bruce Lee sat up and said “Oh, damn!”

  I flew through the portal out of the Shrine of Light and landed in a heap outside in the Temple of Solomon. I knew then and there that what Sariel did was nothing more than a love tap.

  Wheezing, I rolled to my side. “Message received,” I grunted, knowing Sariel was watching. One does not sucker punch the Angel of Death and get away with it.

  But for now, I had work to do.

  I closed my eyes and listened, willing The Collective to open my senses. The battle was down towards the Well of Souls. I heard gunfire and screaming. I heard angels calling out war cries. I heard Riggs swearing. I heard Chael laughing.

  And I heard TJ whimpering. So that was where I needed to go.

  Back in the wars, each soldier had a ritual, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Just before going into battle, they would go through idiosyncratic routines. Some cleaned their weapons for the hundredth time, some did push-ups. Some even prayed to a God who wasn’t listening.

  The point was that in all of human history, in every iteration of a warrior tribe, mankind had a cleansing ritual. An act that cleared the mind and focused the body, fusing the two into a cohesive machine.

  For me, it was always the same. I had a smoke while I ran through a song in my head: Johnny Cash’s classic “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” from the 2003 America V: Hundred Highway album.

  I opened my cigarette case, noting that somehow, it was still full, and put the old-world namesake menthol between my lips. Fishing the Zippo out of my coat pocket, I pinch-flipped the lid open, spun the steel wheel, and sparked the fire to life.