Neon Nights

by by: Anthony mayfield

  Chapter 1

  And the Angels of the Most High God were assembled around the throne. Lurking in the edges of light, as though unseen, as though undetected, was the ruler of darkness. And God said, "Which of you would wrap himself in the frailty of flesh and sojourn in earth these last days to further help those that I have chosen from the foundation of the world, making them aware of my love and concern for them?" A gallant and mighty angel stood and said, "Here am I Lord, send me." "Very well, you shall go." "There are so many in need Lord; where shall I begin?"

  At that moment the prayers of the saints were being poured on the altar, a weak, faint voice could barely be heard crying out for help. And God said, "There, you will start there, and whatsoever you need will be provided. Now, GO!" In a matter of seconds, and in a brilliant burst of light, the angel was soaring toward earth. As the angel hurled toward earth,

  • a dark, menacing figure tried desperately to trail him, but he was blinded by the light.

  At the other end of the abyss, another meeting was held in a room so dark that the darkness draped the occupants and clung to their rotten skin like a wet, sour overcoat. The only light in the room came from the glowing, yellowish red eyes that bulged and strained to peer through the darkness.

  In a deep, dragging voice, the leader spoke. "I am returning from a most distressing meeting. I was in our enemy's camp, without detection, I might add, which proves that those of you who say the enemy knows of your presence and warns his enlisted, are sniveling, liars and cowards." Murmurs of displeasure moved throughout the room. "Silence. It's due to your fears that we are in the predicament we're in. The enemy has sent one of his best warriors to earth. Clothed in a suit of flesh, his mission is to combat our destructive efforts among the chosen generation. As he departed for earth, I followed him to determine his destination; however, I must have gotten too close to him. Soon he was dodging and weaving trying to get me off his tail, sensing his demise, he darted into a forest and hid in the trees until I had gone."

  As he spoke his eyes protruded to the point of popping out of his scull. Each breath released an odious, orange cloud of smoke that reeked of sulfur. Green puss oozed from his flared nostrils and dripped onto the floor. Each drop hissed and offered up a stream of steam once it hit the floor.

  "I too shall send a warrior to earth, one who is ruthless and regards no man, one who is capable and willing to locate and destroy the meddler sent from above. Who shall I send?"

  There was a deafening silence throughout the room, eyes blinked and twitched irritably as they tried to locate the volunteer. Slowly, a large, grotesque demon rose; he stood nearly nine feet tall and was covered with dry, peeling scales. His skin looked like burned rawhide. He had large, swollen red eyes and a rotted hole where his nose should have been. As he spoke, vomit that he had been churning in his mouth ran over his lip. He slid out his tongue, which was black and covered with cold sores, and caught the vomit, as if it where a savored juice, before it hit the floor. In a raspy voice, he said, "I'll go."

  The leader looked him over, smiled in a sinister way and said, "You will do well. I have given orders to every prince, angel, and demon of darkness to be on the lookout for the intruder and to report to me the moment he is spotted."

  There was a clamor in the back of the room as a demon joined the meeting. "Master, Master, he said in quick short breaths, I have news." He flew toward the leaders throne and was immediately seized by the creature that was standing; with his talons wrapped around the demon's neck, he began to squeeze. "So, we meet again, foul one." Trying to pry the talons from his scrawny neck, he cried, "Please, have mercy, oh mighty war lord. I mean you no harm." "Ah, but you have already caused me considerable harm; it was you who ran off and left me in the hands of the enemy." "No, no lord, I only left to go and get help. Besides, you got away, didn't you?" "But not without this." He thrust the little demon's head down toward his right leg. There was an eighteen inch gash in his leg, a wound given to him by the same angel that God had sent to earth.

  The wound was covered with worm like insects that kept it open and festering. Without warning, he hurled the decrepit little demon to the floor. He crashed with great impact and skidded twenty feet away from his assailant before coming to a stop in a pool of blood.

  Stunned, broken and disoriented, the demon could only wail in agony as the larger creature slowly limped toward him with a grimacing look on his face. Towering over the limp figure, he raised his left foot high above the little demon's head, readying himself to deal a death blow. Death to spirits of darkness rendered them incapable of ever returning to the earth's atmosphere. They were forced to spend the remainder of time in hell; waiting, like everyone else, the arrival of Christ.

  "N000!" he moaned as the foot came down. "Stop!" the leader said, in a slow, deliberate voice. The creature glanced at his leader then at the helpless heap beneath his foot. Ignoring his leader's command, he raised his foot higher to gain more momentum as he prepared to vanquish the demon from his earthly tenure forever. Standing to his feet, the leader warned,

  "I said stop! You will spare him for the news' sake." Looking disgustedly at the little de­mon, the creature picked the demon up, ripped part of his wing off and threw him at the feet of the leader. The demon screeched in terror as nerve endings jangled loosely at his side. "Silence, you foul wretched imp! The news! What news do you have for me? Be quick, or I'll turn you back over to BA-El."

  Whimpering uncontrollably, and speaking through sobs, the demon said, "I was in St. Louis master." "And what happened?" the leader spit. "I was there tormenting one of the weak when he showed up. He was accompanied by other angels and all of them were carrying earth suits. I heard one of them call the leader Nimmeon. Then he cautioned them to remember his earthly name as well as their own." "What was his name? Did he call the leader by his new name?" "Yes, my lord. He called him Johnny, Johnny Angel." "BA-El, you have the necessary information. Gather unto yourself others, cloak yourselves in a clay body, locate and destroy Johnny Angel, his comrades, and the mortals he was sent to help. Go!" "Yes my lord. I shall find Johnny Angel and have my revenge!"

  Thus began the adventures of Johnny Angel.

  Chapter 2

  Nancy was sick. She was sick of trying to live what she wasn't and could never become, sick of her marriage deteriorating without her husband having the slightest clue that it was, and sick of the feelings of loneliness and despair that accompanied her wherever she went. She lay in bed filled with anguish, frustration, and thoughts of suicide. She felt totally unloved, unfulfilled, and helpless.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, overflowed, and snaked down her cheeks to form a quarter sized puddle that streamed toward Michael's open mouth. "Good," she thought, maybe it will be enough to drown him or his god awful snoring. Either would be a welcome relief. The thought brought more tears. By now they had reached the corner of Michael's open mouth and run underneath to his cheek. Feeling the wetness, of her tears, he snorted, mumbled, and rolled on his back, impervious to what was happening.

  She sat up, pulled a napkin from the box on the night-table, wiped her eyes and looked down at Michael. He was thirty two years old but looked well like forty something. He was about forty pounds over weight, with a large protruding stomach that surrounded his navel with enough fat to form a crater deep enough to hold a large thimble. His pride and joy were the ten or so strands of hair on his chest that were as stiff as any porcupine's bristles.

  She cared for Michael, she just didn't love him anymore and didn't know how to tell him. Though they had only been married for three years, it seemed like eons. He had changed so much in that time and all for the worse. The only thing that he had done worthwhile lately was to join a church. Even with that, she felt like
it was too late for them.

  She considered waking him to discuss her feelings, but changed her mind because she didn't want to hear him rant and rave about how early it was; "hmp, and he wondered why they didn't make love more often," she thought to herself. She began to get angry. "Perhaps if you were more of a friend and talked to me more, maybe, just maybe we would be intimate more often. But n000, you only want to talk when you think it will lead to sex." She felt like punching him in his fat face.

  She felt that part of the blame for her lack of faith and confidence was his fault, he had helped to cripple her and she was resentful toward him for it. She quietly got out of bed, slipped on her house shoes, grabbed her robe and tiptoed out of the room. It was four in the morning, a pleasant sixty five degrees, and Saturday.

  Except for an occasional chirp from a nearby nest, the neighborhood was still in a slumber. She stepped out onto their screened front porch and sat in the swing. In the si­lence, she thought about her plight, and looking up toward heaven, she began to cry out to God, before she could finish praying, there was a brilliant burst of light speeding toward her. It was so large, and moving so fast, that it frightened her. She threw up her hand to shield her eyes from the light. Whatever it was, it seemed to her like it hit earth and without loss of speed or brilliance, continued directly toward her. As suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared and the next thing she saw coming from that same direction was a man jogging up the street.

  There was a late model Mercedes Benz parked across the street and in the driveway next to hers, was a brand new BMW. It was triple black with three pin stripes; one was yellow, one red, and one green. The license plate spelled out J. Angel in gold letters on a black background. Slowly climbing the hill behind the jogger was a rickety old van that popped and cracked as it strained to make it up the narrow hill. The truck's rear axle was slightly bowed due to being consistently overloaded with daily newspapers. There was an older man throwing newspapers from the truck with the accuracy of a major league baseball player. Left side, right side, plop, plop, plop. The papers landed within seconds of each other as the old man maneuvered up the street.

  He was nearing Nancy's house when a cat darted into his path. He swerved, missed the cat by inches, but ran broadside into the Mercedes Benz. He climbed out of the van and hobbled over to the car to inspect the damages.

  By now, Nancy was standing in the doorway watching the old man. He was about sixty years old with a receding hair line that formed the letter "M" on the top of his head. He looked frail, worn and tired. His eyes sat deep within his head and his face looked as though it was carved out of hundreds of age lines.

  Having heard the crash, a man in his late thirties emerged from the house that had the car parked in front of it. He was about six feet tall, two hundred and fifteen pounds, with a sculptured physic. He looked at the damage to his car, then at the old man who was shaking like a vibrator. "You old fool; don't you know how to drive? Look what you did to my car." "I, I'm sorry Mr. Carrington. I didn't mean to hit your car. There was this cat, see, and . . ." "A cat! You hit my car rather than run over some flea bitten cat?" He grabbed the old man, flung him upside the car, and drew his fist back to deliver a teeth shattering blow. "Please, please Mr. Carrington, don't hurt me; I'll pay to have it fixed."

  About that time, the jogger had reached the ruckus and Nancy had come out and was crossing the street. As Mr. Carrington was throwing the punch, the jogger caught his arm. Startled, Mr. Carrington turned, eyed the jogger through squinted eyes, and asked in a gruff, sarcastic voice, "Who are you?" "My name is Johnny, Johnny Angel." "Humph, well Mr. Angel, for your own good, I suggest that you let go of my arm, or else." "Or else what?"

  Without warning, he spun around and drove his free hand into Johnny's nose. Johnny didn't even flinch. A trickle of blood began to run down his nose. The blow was so telling that it would have leveled a man twice Johnny's size, and from the assailant's surprised expression, it had, in times past. He pulled free, cocked his arm, clinched his fist, and prepared to fire another blow to Johnny's face. Johnny caught his fist, the impact sounded like a baseball hitting a catcher's mitt. With his hand wrapped around Mr. Carrington's fist, Johnny began to squeeze. Mr. Carrington's eyes widened, the muscles in his face tightened, and a vein popped out on his forehead and began to pulsate as Johnny applied pressure. "Ahhh. Let go of my fist."

  When Johnny finally turned him lose, he quickly got into his car, slammed and locked the car doors, and started the engine. Slowly, he let the car window half way down. A bit more composed, he shook his hand to get the blood to circulate; pointing a stiff finger at Johnny he said, "You are seriously going to regret this whole scene before I'm finished with you, Mr. Johnny Angel. For your sake, I hope that you have angels watching over you because you will need every one of them to save your life." He put the car in drive and gave Nancy and the old man a menacing look. Without warning, he thrust the accelerator to the floor. The engine revved, the tired spun, squealed, and burned rubber as the car skidded into the street leaving behind a long, black tire trail and the foul odor of burned rubber.

  The old man stared after the car until it was well out of sight. Still twitching uncontrollably, he was muttering, "He's gonna kill us. Mr. Carrington is going to kill us all." Johnny looked into the man's eyes and assured him that no one was going to be killed.

  For a moment, the man was quiet he had gotten lost in the light that radiated from Johnny's eyes. Snapping back to reality, he shouted, "You, he's gonna kill you twice! You don't know who he is, do you? That's Cecil Carrington the most ruthless drug dealer in this area. He has people killed just for a good laugh." "Don't worry, I'll help you." Screaming near the top of his lungs, he turned toward Nancy and repeated, "Did you hear what he said, he'll help me." He looked back at Johnny, "who in God's name is going to help you?" Johnny smiled. Even more frantic, the man continued, "didn't you hear what I just told you, weren't you listening to me? He's gonna kill us; and you're standing there with a stupid smile

  on your face!" The old man was nearly as rigid as a board, his hands were sweaty and his shirt fluttered due to an irregular heart beat.

  Suddenly his knees began to buckle, he felt faint and slowly began to fall. "Oh my God. He's having a heart attack," Nancy cried. She and Johnny caught him before he hit the ground. Using one hand holding the man up, Johnny placed his other hand on the man's chest, "Peace be unto you," he said. Instantly, the man stopped rambling; the tension left his body and color returned to his flushed face. He looked at Johnny's hand then at Johnny. With the most perplexed expression on his face, he said, "thank you, I'm better now. I'd better go now. I have to finish my route." He got into his van and started on his way.

  Oddly enough, he was in a better condition after the events than before. In awe, Nancy asked, "What did you do to him?" "I just touched him and told him to be at peace. That's all. I mean you were standing right there."

  She was quiet as she stood and looked at him. It was the first time since the commotion that she had had the opportunity to really look him over. To her delight, she found herself in the presence of the most handsome man that she had seen in a long time. He was five feet, eleven inches tall with thick, black, curly hair. He had a golden tan complexion only he wasn't tanned. She imagined that he had been jogging for quite sometime; sweat was pouring from his body. He had on a silk jogging suit that clung to his body and revealed his chiseled physic.

  Instantly, she had gotten lost in a romantic fantasy that involved Johnny. "Are you all right?" "Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something and I guess I got carried away. Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Nancy Fields." She extended her hand. Johnny shook her hand in a gentlemanly manner and introduced himself. "Pleased to meet you Mrs. Fields, my name is Johnny Angel." "Yes, I know." " I Beg your pardon?" "I knew that your name was Johnny Angel." "Oh?" "Yes, I heard you when you told Mr. Carrington your name." "Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten that you were standing there."

&
nbsp; "So what brings you to this neighborhood Mr. Angel?" "Please, call me Johnny. I'm moving into the neighborhood today. I own that house over there." He pointed to the house next to Nancy's. "Oh, so you're the one who bought the Hemstead's house. We didn't think it would ever sell. They were asking so much that we used to jokingly say that no one but God would be able to afford it." They both laughed. "Well, even though he could easily af­ford it, I'm certain that he got a good price for it." She looked at him in a confused way, as if she had missed part of the conversation.

  "Have you been married very long?" "Married? Who said that I was married?" "I just assumed that you were because you're wearing a wedding band." She looked down at her hand. "Oh, that. Yeah, I'm married," she said reluctantly. "That was really stupid, she thought, the guy lives next door to me. He would have found out sooner or later that I was married." "Are you?" "No, I'm not." "Are you seriously involved with someone?" "No. At least not in the way you think." "You're not a homosexual are you?" He laughed. "No, I'm not gay." "Whew, that's a relief, it would have been such a waste." "I beg your pardon?" "Oh, what I meant was that you're such an attractive guy, that it would have been a loss to some fortunate woman." "Thank you." "I just hope that I can spend some time with you be­fore you find her." "You will. That's why I'm here." "That's why you're here?" "Yes, I came here specifically to spend time with you, to help you." "Is that right? Wow, this is happening so fast I can't believe that I'm doing this. You make it so easy. Even though I know that you're not here just for me, you make it sound so believable. 000H, you make me want you." "No, don't get me wrong, I am here in this area, at this time, to help you but not how you..." He was interrupted by a huge moving van crawling up the street.