by Corey Brown
“It is time,” David says, quietly.
The twin considers how to respond. He is angry to the point of insanity, but knows mindless rage works both for and against you.
“So, you’ll finish me like a dog,” the twin says. “On my knees?”
“Save it. You deserve no sympathy.”
The twin closes his eyes, closes them hard. David can feel a pull of some sort, like hands tugging at his clothing. He knows the twin is looking for, make that screaming, for help. But it does not seem as though anyone is listening.
From where she sits on the ground, Suzanne sees sunlight edging over the horizon. David is in a ready stance: one foot forward, both hands gripping the sword. The tip is pressed against the twin’s throat, light from the rising sun glints off the razor sharp, chrome blade.
Suzanne sees this, absorbs it. To her, it is an image from a fantasy story, from a screenplay David might have written. Taking it in, Suzanne knows she is a long way from home. This is not New Orleans or California or even planet earth.
The twin re-doubles his pleas for help. Suzanne feels the same tug as her brother, she hears the twin’s scream for some sort of rescue but she cannot quite assimilate this knowledge into clear thought. The pleas for help slip through her subconscious like dust blowing in the wind.
Suzanne does not exactly know if the twin is calling out for help, but there is something she can hear. Something is on the move. Why David can hear the cries for help but not the response, and why she can hear one thing and not the other, neither of them will ever know, but Suzanne hears them coming. The sound is like a billion hoofs thundering across an open plain.
“What’s that?” Suzanne says. “What’s that sound?”
Still holding the tip of the sword against the twin’s jugular, David glances sideways at Suzanne and says, “What do you mean?”
“You don’t hear it?”
David frowns. Then his expression turns from confusion to worry. “I don’t hear anything. What is it?”
Suzanne looks at him, wondering why he is asking, wondering why he can’t hear it. “Pounding,” she says. “Like thousands of hammers pounding on asphalt or maybe horses running.” She snaps her fingers and says, “That’s it. Like the sound of horses running.”
The rising sun grows hazy. It seems to stop rising, seems to halt, then starts to set. The sky fades from a morning of orange and yellow to inky dark then all natural light is gone as a strange canopy of blackness settles over this far-off world. With the darkness comes a chill that runs straight to the core. Suzanne begins to shiver uncontrollably.
David cannot see them individually but he feels them, he knows a universe of demons have just engulfed the planet. They are so thick David can hear them jostling, fighting for position. They have heard the twin’s cry for help, they have come to protect him. They have come to finish what the Interceptors started.
Still, none of them have made a move, not one demon has gone on the offensive. They crowd the sky, blocking out the sun, but they are holding back.
David looks around, his thoughts running wild as he considers what could happen next. David looks at his hands, visually tracing a line from the hilt to the chrome blade to the tip, to the twin’s jugular.
David wonders, what do I do now? Indeed, what to do is one question. But what about how did this happen? Or what am I doing here in the first place? What about those questions? Until now David had been operating on some kind of autopilot, some kind of internal compass leading him to Suzanne. All long he had known the weaponry, his tracking skills, all of it came from some inexplicable connection to God.
Or was it faith? Who knew?
But what did any of that mean now? David searches his soul, decides nothing related to Godly faith operates in him. Suzanne is all that he cared about, all that drew him, all that guided him. And at the same time he feels a rumble of spirituality in this new life, like the distant roll of thunder.
In his old life, some basic idea of right and wrong was all David needed for direction. But things have changed, and in a big way. This isn’t his old life. He has no life, at least not one that makes sense. He was, in theory, a Regulator, whatever that means. Not something he had consciously chosen and yet he’d decided to be just that, a servant of God.
Thinking back to T'biah’s story of seeing the face of God and having been given a choice, David thinks about how he was never afforded that same luxury. Still, the decision to be a Regulator was not in doubt. Without really knowing why, he is okay with the ambiguity of the decision. For some reason, somewhere below his mental radar, the most troubling question is when had he decided? When had he chosen?
Shaking off useless, rhetorical questions, David wonders what to do next. Prayer? That was no good. In spite of his religious upbringing, in spite of Suzanne’s intense beliefs, David just does not know how to pray, he’s never really tried it.
His elusive internal compass seems to spin wildly. David knows he is in uncharted territory, knows he has stepped off the path and is hopelessly lost. The tip of his double-edged sword is pressed against the twin’s jugular and a swarm of demons are waiting to slaughter them both. David knows they are surrounded by pure evil. David looks around and thinks, what do I do, now?
Then it comes to him. The twin has just become a hostage. The demons have not attacked because the twin’s existence is in jeopardy. David wants to finish the job, he wants to sever the twin’s head, but where will that leave him? More importantly, where will that leave Suzanne? With the twin dead, there is nothing to stop the hovering legion of evil from descending and slaughtering both of them. But with the twin alive maybe he and Suzanne can escape.
As David is considering his options there is a distant cry of pain and in the next instant T’biah is at his side.
“Well,” T’biah says, looking around. “That takes care of two of them. Only an infinite number to go.”
David stares at him. “What?”
“I killed two. Think you can get the rest?” T’biah says. He looks at Suzanne, sees her shivering and says, “You must be freezing.” Then he removes a ragged button-up sweater from his own ragged longcoat, and wraps it around Suzanne.
The garment is still warm with T'biah’s body heat. “Thanks,” Suzanne says, getting to her feet.
“By the way,” T’biah says to David. “Nice job on the Interceptors, I’m impressed.”
“Uh, how did you…?” David pauses. He wants to ask how T'biah found them, but decides he doesn’t need an answer. He knows the answer. “Thanks,” David says. “What now?”
“You get Suzanne out of here. Maybe someday you can bring her home. I’ll take care of your twin.”
Suzanne gives T’biah an anxious look and thinks, someday? Someday I can go home? What does that mean? But she says nothing.
“Why?” David says, nudging the tip of his sword into the twin’s throat. “We don’t need to fight, we have him. He’s leverage.”
“True, we have him but we can’t do anything with him. You can’t take him on a free jump, he’s too strong. We’d have to walk out.” T’biah shrugs then points skyward. “And that isn’t happening. We’ll never get past all of them.”
Suzanne looks upward and for the first time she sees why it is so dark and cold. Filling every inch of space from ground to sky are countless hordes of demons. Millions upon millions of every kind of demon: ugly ones, attractive ones, slimy ones, muscular and weak ones, blond and red headed. Ones that look like misshapen animals, ones that look like strange creatures from frightening worlds, ones that look like everyday humans.
But they sound like millions of muttering, bickering siblings. There are so many they are literally crawling over each other, like maggots on a rotting piece of fruit. Their presence is so thick they blot out light and heat and sound. Part of Suzanne’s mind is telling her to collapse in abject fear while some other part of her accepts what she sees and is ready to deal with it.
T’biah pulls a sawed-off
shotgun and jams it against the twin’s left temple. The twin winces. The burn from the exploding blue egg is still raw, still very painful.
“Take Suzanne,” T’biah says. “Hold her tight and free jump. Do it fast and clean and just before you go, clear your mind. No thoughts, nothing. And whatever you do, don’t go back to earth.”
David looks confused. “But if I do that,” he says, “how will I know where I’m going? How will I know where I’ll land?”
“That’s the idea. You won’t. And they won’t either.”
“But what if I go someplace worse?”
T’biah glances skyward then back at his son. David gets the point. Most of hell’s demons are right here, right now. There probably is not a worse place anywhere, in any universe.
“When you hit solid ground,” T’biah says. “Get your bearings and jump again. Keep doing that, do it for at least six years. You’ll lose them, I’m sure of it.”
“What about you?” David says. “What will you do?”
“I’m a big boy, I can handle this.”
“But no one can fight all of----” David bites off his own words, knowing T’biah has one purpose in mind: kill the twin. After that it’s damn the torpedoes and kiss your sorry ass goodbye.
T’biah catches the recognition in David’s eye. “It’s okay, David,” he says quietly. “I can’t leave here alive. Either way, I’m out of options.”
“But why?” Suzanne says. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s hard to explain.” T’biah gives Suzanne an apologetic smile. “I’ve made too many wrong choices. I’ve ignored God’s voice for too long.” T'biah shrugs. “Coming here was my final choice. I’m on my own. Forty-three thousand years ago my body died but my spirit came alive because I chose God. Unchoosing means being without God. It means I die. Even now, my spirit is dissolving. It’s only you and David keeping me alive. Your energy shields me, feeds me. Can’t you feel it, the pull? I am living off your spirit, but when you go….”
T’biah looks away, embarrassed. Only a short time ago he was powerful Regulator, directed by God and respected by his peers, trusted to fight the good fight, admired for his dedication to chase down evil. But what has he become? He is nothing more than a fixer, someone who covers his own tracks, makes excuses. Bitterness, like poison, seeps into his heart. He can taste it on his tongue.
“After you’ve gone,” T’biah says, softly. “I will last long enough to end what I started. I will have enough time to pull the trigger and your twin will die. That’s all that matters.”
“No,” David says. “There has to be another way.”
T’biah shakes his head, tries to speak but his voice catches, his words choke off. Tears slip down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” T’biah says, fighting his emotions. “I----”
David wraps an arm around T’biah’s neck, pulling him close.
“I won’t leave you, Dad,” David whispers, feeling good about calling him this. “I will stay and fight with you.” But even as he says this, David knows it won’t happen. He knows Suzanne’s life hangs in this tenuous balance.
T’biah grabs David’s collar and pushes him away, his eyes suddenly dry, blazing with intensity. So blue, so brilliant.
“No.” T’biah says. “You have to…” He starts to insist that David make the free jump with Suzanne but sees the anguished look of understanding on David’s face. T’biah knows David will do what must be done.
Swept up in emotion, neither David nor T'biah is fully on guard. Seeing this, the twin uses a confusing, painful moment between father and son to get free. In a surprisingly graceful move, he kicks to his feet, pulls his own sawed-off, ten-gauge shotgun and shoves it against the side of David’s head.
Suzanne gives a startled cry and as if on cue the dark canopy of ghoulish bodies encircling the planet contracts. Billions of shoving, heaving demons move in closer. So close now that their various odors hang in the air like a fog.
“A Mexican stand-off,” the twin says, grinning. “This makes things more interesting, don’t you think?”
T’biah decides to act, decides to kill the twin right now. But he can tell the twin is mirroring his actions. The twin is putting pressure on the trigger of his gun, too.
“I can hear that,” the twin says. “Your finger is loud. What do you say we shoot together? But look at my line of fire. I’ll get both of them, two for one.”
T’biah doesn’t need to look, he knows both Suzanne and David are at risk. “So what now?” T'biah says. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“What happens? That’s easy. I take her, pork her, make babies. Maybe I let her live. You and the asshole duke it out with hell’s host.” The twin shrugs. “You guys go down swinging. You’ll be heroes.”
“We both know,” T’biah says. “That won’t….”
In Suzanne’s mind T’biah’s voice trails off. She notices this, thinks about it then realizes his voice has not really drifted away but rather a new sound, a new voice, has caught her attention. She looks at the three of them, she sees David in profile, his twin a few feet beyond, facing her. The twin’s gun is pointed at both David and herself. To her right is T’biah, a shotgun pressed to the twin’s scorched head.
T’biah is still talking but she cannot hear him. Although only a whisper, this new voice—a woman’s voice—fills her ears. The woman is singing, soft, clear and low. The lyrics are indiscernible but the melody is familiar.
What is that song?
Suzanne thinks she should ignore the singing woman and pay attention to what the others are doing, but she cannot. Now the twin is saying something else, he is looking at T’biah but keeping an eye on her, too. Suzanne sees a look on the twin’s face. Does he hear the woman’s voice?
The woman’s voice is so persistent, demanding Suzanne’s attention so completely that she forgets about the twin, forgets everything that is happening. Looking around, Suzanne tries to see who is singing. Where is this mystery woman? She must be close, the melody is so clear. But the only ones Suzanne can see are her brother, T'biah, and the twin. And a billion demons.
But the song is real and it feels like something Suzanne understands. But what? What is it that feels so familiar? Then it comes to her, she realizes it is not a song, it is a prayer. The woman is praying. And it is not the melody that is familiar but the act itself that is so natural to Suzanne. Recognizing it, hearing the words for what they really are, Suzanne feels the prayer, feels it wrapping around her, cloaking her body, protecting her soul.
Suzanne smiles, looks at T’biah, expects him to hear it, expects to share a moment of understanding. But the connection, the link, never happens. Suzanne frowns. T'biah is still talking, still ignoring the woman’s prayer. Is he doing that on purpose? Does he even hear her? Is that it, T'biah cannot hear her sweet, inviting voice?
Suzanne steals a glance at David. His eyes are fixed in concentration and Suzanne knows David cannot hear the soothing, melodic prayer being sung all around him. She can tell David is looking for an avenue of escape, looking for a way to fight. Now Suzanne gives the twin a quick look: nothing. All of them, not one of them can hear this song.
A smile returns to Suzanne’s lips but it is a sad one. She remembers the story T’biah told her and that police detective, Cody Briggs, the story about living so long ago, seeing the face of God. About making choices, about choosing Heaven over Hell, that T’biah was named after the angel of free will. How preposterous it sounded then but now, here in this lonely place, the story seems like both prose and poetry.
Suzanne considers that story, considers how completely T’biah fell in love with Celine. Suzanne knows it is his love for David, probably that same love for her that led T’biah across who knows how many galaxies to this world. How strange, Suzanne thinks, that love can electrify your senses or make you stone cold deaf.
This is hopeless, T’biah thinks. He is angry and sad and frustrated. But mostly he is disappointed in himself. He
has let so many people down. David, Suzanne, detective Briggs, his beautiful Celine. All of them dead or dying, save Cody and his undoing might well be worse than death. All because of his mistakes, his choices. Worst of all, T'biah had ignored God’s request to come back; that soft, subtle voice coaxing, asking him to come home. The gentle prompting that waited for a response but never received one.
T’biah looks skyward and opens his mouth. At first he is not sure what will come out: a scream or a string of obscenities. But it is neither.
“I know you are out there,” T’biah says, his voice soft at first then becoming a shout.
T’biah senses the twin move and without taking his eyes off the seething mass of demons above, he jabs the gun against the twin’s head and says. “You are out there, watching this, you can see it. So, I failed the cause, I have turned away, fueled the fires of hell. I have done all of this, but I am responsible. Not David, not Suzanne, it is my sin, not theirs. Won’t you rescue them?”
“Give it a rest, mighty Regulator,” the twin says. “The bastards have left you to die, no one hears you. No one gives a shit.”
T’biah grits his teeth as a sudden rush of anger surges through his body. “Is that it?” T’biah shouts, still looking up. “You just don’t care? After all the battles, after all the times we stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, doing the Master’s work, after all of it, you just don’t care?”