by C. F. Waller
A glowing blue stream of glitter peels off the Angel, as if her skin were being sucked from her bones. Annie turns away, covering her eyes. After a half minute, Rhea shakes free, stumbling to her knees. Jenn kneels on the two partially submerged bodies, then is suddenly upended.
“I’ll be darned,” Gabriel mutters. “Will wonders never cease.”
In the water, the man in skinny jeans and the woman are restored to life, their skin no longer burned. When they jerk up, Jenn is tossed off, landing in the shallow water.
After a moment to regain her balance, Jenn pulls them to their feet one after the other. The newly resurrected pair crawl out, sitting on the retaining wall. Edward stands, hands on his hips, looking down on them. When the woman looks up her eyes sparkle green.
“Edward,” she blurts, springing to her feet and grabbing him in a bear hug.
“Get a room,” the man in skinny jeans smirks, turning and pawing around in the water.
“Lose something?” Jenn asks.
“I had a fairly decent bottle of scotch before you snatched me,” he complains.
Edward, looks past, what I presume is Beatrix Moffat reincarnated.
“Oh, that has got to be Dorian,” he remarks.
“There was doubt?” he sighs. “I like to think of myself as hard to forget.”
Before Dorian can comment further, he notices his clothing. Wearing a look of disgust, he stands and runs a hand down the skinny jeans.
“Oh God, what fresh hell is this? Have I traded Hell for fashion purgatory?”
There is a brief moment of quiet, then laughter abounds. After a few minutes of hugging and appreciative sentiments, the trumpet sounds once more. Gabriel calls us over, Rhea stepping back away when Jenn gets close.
“Careful,” Jenn snaps, wiggling her fingers, backing up Rhea a step.
“The next horn is the last, so prepare yourselves,” he announces.
“What about my Mom?” Jenn inquires. “What happened to her?”
“Yes, what did happen to her?” Gabriel asks, turning to Rhea.
“How would I know?” she grunts, waving her hands defensively.
“Your wings looked pretty good when you flew out, thus I assumed you two figured out the puzzle,” Gabriel asks, pausing. “Where did you leave the poor woman?”
“Yeah, what did you do to my Mom?”
“I don’t answer to you girlie,” Rhea growls, taking a step toward Jenn.
“That’s correct,” Gabriel blurts out, getting between Jenn and Rhea. “You answer to someone much scarier and you’re going to have to answer for Miss Ben-Ahron’s whereabouts.”
“Can you can just send her along later?” Jenn begs as the final trumpet sounds.
Gabriel shakes his head, but before Jenn can ask what he means, she dissolves into ash, floating away on the wind. The others follow as if in slow motion. First is Annie, then Edward and Beatrix. Looking puzzled briefly, Dorian disappears next. The cloud of ash forming his actual silhouette, not the face of skinny jeans guy. It seems they were all allowed to go up.
When I dissolve, it feels cold. Looking down I can see Rhea and Gabriel clearly, even the ash clouds that used to be our bodies.
I’m feeling so happy that it is shocking when I see an enormous red dragon explode from the fountain. Huge wings, twice as large as Rhea’s, flapping as it hovers, throwing shade over the entirety of Columbus Circle. The last thing I see, before the clouds get in the way is Rahnee wrapped in what I assume is Satan’s tail, dangling over the water.
Why am I even surprised?
Chapter Twenty-five
Rahnee Ben-Ahron
Columbus Circle, New York City
I fall an untold distance, landing on the roof on my own car. Water drops from overhead as Satan flutters to a landing in the center of the intersection, crushing a bus under his feet. It would seem everyone has either been raptured away or run for their lives, since only Rhea and Gabriel and I are in the area.
I slip off the roof, noticing a decent indent where I fell. Remind me to mention this to Gabriel, if Satan doesn’t eviscerate us all. Face to face with her nemesis, Rhea’s white wings explode from her back, a sight I have gotten used to. Gone are the times this shocked me. In all my travels, this is not the oddest thing I have witnessed. Although it is in the top five.
The two face off, Gabriel standing back wearing a frown. I make my way around to him, hobbling from an ankle that’s badly twisted. Reaching him, I pause, and then elbow his side when he doesn’t greet me.
“You made it back,” he cocks his head to the right. “Novel solution.”
“I was out of options after your Angel abandoned me down there,” I grouse.
“This surprised you?”
“Not even a little. What now?”
“It would appear I have to get in the middle of this now,” he scowls, waving a hand at the impending death-match in the intersection. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Take your time.”
Rhea lunges at the dragon, but is blocked by his curled wing. Before she can recover, the dragon whips its tail around, sending her careening into the front window of a storefront. The dragon exhales a stream of fire into the sky, pumping one short front arm.
Wet from the various floods, the shotgun lies to my left, under a laptop bag lost in the commotion. I snatch it up, then shake the water off of it. The silence is broken when Rhea bursts out of the storefront, impaling the dragon through the back with a spear formed by a clothing rack display. The dragon falls over, then draws the spear out with the curled end of its tail.
With Rhea’s back to me, I level the shotgun and fire. The ball of hellfire explodes from the barrel, leaving a black trail of smoke in its wake. Rhea turns, as if she could hear the trigger click, moving her head out of the way at the last second. The fireball hits the dragon square in the face. Red hot embers and ash trickle down the dragon’s face, leaving him unharmed.
I raise the shotgun a second time, but when I fire, a multicolored bouquet of silk flowers is left dangling from the barrel. When I glare at Gabriel, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. It would be funny, if I didn’t want to burn his Angel to dust. With me neutralized, the battle rages on. I find myself cheering for Satan, but refrain from yelling Go Dragons aloud.
As the two circle each other, Gabriel claps his hands together causing an ear shattering thunder clap. The would-be combatants freeze, apparently held by some invisible force. After a brief struggle, they grow quiet.
“Okay kiddies, the trumpets have sounded, the rodeo is over,” Gabriel lectures. “Thank you for playing, but it’s time for everyone to go home.”
“You don’t control me Angel,” the red dragon growls. “Our Father has domain over me, not you.”
“Very true,” Gabriel nods. “And yet there you are, frozen like a popsicle.”
It’s hard to tell if the expression is surprised or not, given his face is a cartoonish dinosaur. After a moment to ponder Gabriel’s words, he morphs back into hipster man-bun guy. With Rhea still frozen, he walks over to Gabriel and the two have a brief conversation. I’m tempted to try to overhear, but am unsure of my ultimate destination as this point. Let’s keep a low profile for the time being.
Several minutes pass, then Satan walks into the fountain, taking a moment to lock eyes on me.
“Until we meet again Miss Ben-Ahron,” he winks, then disappears, sinking into a steaming cauldron.
When I approach Gabriel, he’s talking. It reminds me of Balthazar speaking to his master as if he was wearing a Bluetooth head set. I can only imagine Gabriel is chatting with the Almighty. That does seem like the correct chain of command.
“Satan just leave?” I ask, when the call seems to end.
“I reminded him that he has a far greater battle on the horizon.”
“Like what?”
“When the Son returns to remake the Earth,” he explains, then pauses. The Four Horsemen, God’s new Jerusalem, a floating City of Gold?”
I shrug.
“Honestly,” he winces. “How he can take any of you up without the slightest inclination of true faith? It boggles my mind.”
“His thoughts are higher than ours,” I suggest, this being the only Bible saying that comes to mind.
“Touché.”
“So, what now?” I ask. “Can I go up and join the others?”
“Not yet,” he declares, sounding shady.
I want to ask why, but he frees Rhea from her invisible bonds, waving her over to where we stand. She drops to the ground, her wings retracting, but not disappearing. Scowling, she joins us begrudgingly.
“What are we doing with her?” Rhea grunts. “She can’t go up.”
“Is she that much worse than the rest?”
“Have you not been paying attention,” Rhea snickers. “She’s the absolute worst of the bunch.”
“Hard to argue,” Gabriel agrees, glancing at me. “However, there is another just as bad.”
Rhea shrugs, waiting for him to continue, but he just stares at her. As if someone flipped a light switch, she realizes he’s talking about her.
“Really?” she balks. “Even if that’s true, you don’t get to judge me.”
Gabriel nods, a grin unmistakable. I don’t get the feeling he is a huge fan of Rhea. Seeming to notice his amusement, she steps away snapping her wings out to the sides. It takes a few flaps, then she rises above us. Gabriel watches her make one lap around the circle, then pause to wave.
“I’ll see you up top,” she declares. “Up there, you don’t make the rules.”
She turns and begins a slow arc upward. Before she gains any altitude, Gabriel snaps his fingers and her wings dissolve into a cloud of loose feathers. Rhea, now with no wings, falls like a rock. She plummets head first into a car on the next block, driving her head into the roof like a nail. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, then notice Gabriel release a small chuckle as feathers rain on her position.
“That funny to you?” I ask.
“It’s a rare moment when I find any of her nonsense amusing,” he winks at me, then waves at the mangled car holding Rhea. “Alright, get over here.”
It takes her several minutes to extract herself from the car, one arm had poked through the windshield. Once she shakes off the broken glass, she joins us.
We wind up standing in front of him like a couple of bickering children on a playground. She elbows me when she thinks I am too close, grunting her disapproval.
“So, I can’t send either of you up,” he remarks, “and I can’t send you down.”
“Could I get some clarification on the I can’t send you up part?” I inquire. “I thought we had an Agreement.”
“We did,” he nods. “I mean we do, but you arrived after the trumpets stopped. Technically speaking that’s when the Rapture ends.”
“Technically speaking,” I huff. “Technically speaking I went down to Hell and drug this pile of excrement up to fresh air.”
“I’ll excrement you,” Rhea whispers.
“True, thus you can’t go down,” Gabriel sighs. “Satan is a wee bit upset with you.”
“You’re screwed,” Rhea snickers.
“Something funny?” Gabriel snaps.
“Yeah, her,” Rhea stutters. “I mean, well, what?”
“I can’t take you up either,” he barks.
“But you sent her to get me out? This entire mess is based on me going home.”
“True, but your list of abominations is legendary,” he lectures.
“Our Father cast me out,” she complains, wagging a finger at the sky. “Then he tasks me with rounding up the flood survivors.”
“How’d that go for you?” I poke.
I receive a frown from Gabriel.
“A task you never completed,” he reminds her. “Along the way you lied, cheated, stole, murdered, and pretty much gave dictionary definitions on how not to keep the Ten Commandments.”
“Then why save me?” she whines, arms crossed over her chest.
“You’re an Angel,” he shakes his head. “Can’t have you tied to stake down below. It makes the rest of us look bad.”
“Alright,” I cut in. “What exactly are you saying here?”
“He,” Gabriel announces, nodding up. “Is going to give you a chance to redeem yourselves.”
“Doing what?” Rhea grumbles.
“He needs some people down here for the next seven years. Boots on the ground, so to speak. People to look after his interests and sort out the good eggs from the rotten apples.”
“Meaning?” I sigh.
“If you two can keep your noses clean and be in anyway useful,” he offers, pausing to watch our faces. “At the end of the Tribulation, he will review your situation.”
“Well, I am not working with her?” Rhea growls, elbowing me out of the way.
“You won’t be judged individually,” he warns, raising a finger at Rhea. “You’re a team.”
I laugh out loud, drawing a grin from Gabriel.
“Sorry, you can’t possibly understand how funny that statement is,” I choke on my own spit.
“I think he has some idea,” Rhea grunts, then looks directly overhead. “Or someone does.”
“Right, well, here’s the list,” Gabriel sighs, holding out parchment scroll, sealed with a red dollop of wax. “You can start with this.”
Peeling off the wax, I unroll a foot of it, feeling by the weight, that it’s actually much longer. It’s a list of names and addresses, some in red print, others in blue. When I look up confused, Gabriel is watching me.
“Go to the address, find the people listed and sort them out.”
“Sort them out?”
“The names are either in blue or red, right?”
“I nod.
“Blue names are people we might take up at some point; red names are the less adorable types.”
“Naughty or nice?” I chuckle.
“Yes, good luck,” he takes a step back. “I’ll be in touch.”
Before I can answer, or Rhea can complain, his wings pop out, small at first, then bigger. He flutters weakly, as if he might crash, then gains strength.
“He flies like a girl,” Rhea snorts, flipping Gabriel the bird.
“You’re a girl,” I point out, walking back to my car.
After pulling the keys from the trunk lock, I climb in. The dent in the roof makes it hard to sit up straight. Annoyed, I punch the roof several times, pushing the dent out. Once I can sit straight, I crank the motor, blue smoke trickling out the exhaust in the rear view. I never expected to drive my car again when I parked it, but find myself glad it’s close by.
It takes over a minute to get it to start, then I wheel around the circle coming up behind Rhea. She’s just standing in the street, looking up at the sky. I honk the horn to get her attention, but she ignores me.
“Get in,” I bark.
“Not on your life,” she fires back, turning and leaning in the passenger window. “They can’t force me to work with you.”
“Suit yourself,” I sigh, unrolling the scroll to look more closely at the first address.
My uncooperative partner takes a few steps away, then flinches. She repeats this several times, then I realize she’s trying to activate her wings, but they won’t appear.
“Something wrong?” I shout out the window.
“Oh, just another of my Father’s little pranks,” she moans, waving a fist at the sky. “You’re not as funny as you think.”
“He has a pretty good sense of humor from where I am sitting,” I whisper to myself, then pull up next to her again. “Get in.”
She glares at me, then scans the surrounding area.
“Get in.”
“Where is the first address?” she sighs, pulling open the passenger door.
“New Jersey,” I reveal, handing her the scroll and putting the car in first gear.
“People in New Jersey might not even notice the End-of-D
ays,” she groans, slamming the door. “The difference will be negligible.”
I make one complete circle around the fountain, then rocket down Broadway. It’s a long list, and dealing with Rhea’s massive ego will be a nightmare. On the up side, it would appear everyone but me got to go up, including Beatrix and Dorian. A far better outcome that I expected. Who knows, with a little luck I might get to join them someday.
“Stop there,” Rhea demands, pointing at an overturned pretzel cart on the sidewalk. “I haven’t had a decent thing to eat in a thousand years. I’d like one of those before we get on the highway.”
“Sure,” I grumble, racing past without stopping.
“You missed it?” she whines, looking confused, as if I didn’t hear her original decree.
“This isn’t a team,” I sigh, clipping a parked car when I take a hard left on 54th Street. “It’s daycare.”
The End
About the Author
Award winning novelist C. F. Waller is a three-time medal winner at the Miami International Book Fair. He was also recognized by Shelf Media in 2016 when his novel, Tourists of the Apocalypse, was one of 2016’s Best Indie Books. Tourists was later chosen the overall winner in the Science Fiction category by National Indie Excellence in 2017.
He lives in South West Florida with his amazing wife Tina, and one furry kitty.
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