by Dick Denny
I wished Jammer and Switch were here. Switch was gone because I had sent him away, but he definitely would have had I called him. That’s the damnation of having Brothers. Jammer was still dead.
Frank sang about doing what he had to do; preaching to the choir brother.
How many people had I killed since the entire shit show had been dumped on my lap? How many bodies had I stacked like cordwood in the name of putting off exactly what I found myself surrounded by?
Frank had a plan and did it his way.
Well, unlike Frank I couldn’t say that about planning. Planning was never my strong suit. Maybe if it was we wouldn’t have found ourselves here at the End of All Things.
Frank sang about being in over his head but sucking it up like a man.
Gretchen had to know.
Frank Sinatra sang of standing and bearing it.
That I had, though I’m not sure it was a virtue. I’m not sure anything was better. I wasn’t sure anything could be worse. Hell on one side, Heaven on the other, and neither pleased to see us.
Frank sang about loving, laughing, crying.
I kind of wish I’d cried but I hadn’t. I hadn’t cried sober since I was eleven. I looked at Gretchen. The five-foot shaft topped with the Spear of Destiny clutched in her fists, more like a warrior goddess worthy of all the world’s riches. She had to know. She had to know all the things I’d thought but never said. She had to know all the things I’d said that came out wrong. She had to know all the dreams I had about her, for us.
Frank had his share of losing.
Almost Switch… Jammer… Faith in Humanity… Faith in Heaven…Fear of Hell…
And yet, as he admits in the song, Frank was amused by it all.
To be honest I was struggling to find the humor.
Frank said screw being humble.
I smiled at Gretchen. She smiled back. Shy was never the style of either of us.
Ole Blue Eyes did it his way.
For good or ill, goddamned right we did.
Frank sang about the defining characteristics of a man, and what does a man possess.
Gretchen…
Frank sang about laying it all out on the table.
I looked to my left and saw Lucifer in all the glory of his Divine Birth, armored and decked out for war, a brace of three spears in his left hand, and a spiked Morningstar in his right. He stood surrounded by his Infernal Host in their dread damnation.
I looked to my right and there stood Michael, probably Rafael and Gabrielle bedecked as you’d imagine warriors of the Throne; Michael with sword and shield. Probably Rafael with a sword and ax, Gabrielle with a bow and arrows of light. The angelic armies arrayed in good order, prepared and ready for the Day that had come.
Like Rocky, Frank sang about taking the hits but moving through.
I looked at Gretchen. Our eyes touched for what might be the last time. She knew…she had to…
For the time had finally come upon us. Hell to the left, Heaven to the right. Gretchen and I in the center, standing at the End of All Things, upon the field of Armageddon.
Frank sang about doing it his way. My Way ended like the world was probably about to.
Goddamn my girl has great taste in music.
We approached hand in hand, and I honestly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Well, maybe hand in hand with Gretchen and a company of Paratroopers at our back would have been nice, but all things considered, I was fine with things. But her hand felt good in mine, even as the faux lightning flashed.
We could see the armies gathering. One to our left and one to our right. I’m not sure which way the Father was facing so I couldn’t tell you if the angels were on his right or not.
I was tired, but I’d settle for a drink. I pulled out my flask and got it open with my teeth so I didn’t have to let go of Gretchen’s hand. I took a swig and got it put away.
The armies stood to each side like a person who didn’t know anything about the Civil War would imagine Civil War armies doing.
“Hope your plan works.” Gretchen squeezed my hand.
I tried to smirk, but not sure at all I pulled it off in any shape, form, or fashion. “If not, I’ll see you in Hell.”
She laughed. What was the alternative at that point?
You could see all kinds of uniforms on both sides. Spartans from Thermopylae stood shoulder to shoulder with veterans of the Korengal Valley. A war of 1812 British Rifleman stood side by side with an irregular American Revolutionary guy with a Kentucky long rifle. Soldiers of both sides of any war I could name stood on the sides of both Heaven and Hell. Except Nazis. Oddly, all the Nazis seemed to be on Hell’s side, with the notable exception of the Fallschirmjager, who were arrayed behind Michael with the other men who could be defined as Airborne. It was like someone wiped a rag over wet military history books then wrung it out over either side, here at the final battle.
My Way started playing on repeat and Gretchen said, surprisingly cheerfully—or with it being her, maybe it wasn’t surprising at all.“We’re a little outgunned here, huh?”
“A bit, yeah.” I tried to smirk and didn’t know if I succeeded in any shape form or fashion.
That’s when I noticed a commotion on Heaven’s side. A lone figure had broken ranks and was heading across the park field. Yet instead of heading toward the ranks of Hell, he was walking toward Gretchen and me.
He was armed with a Winchester lever-action saddle rifle like he’d been busy riding with Teddy Roosevelt in his cowboy days. On his hip he wore a G.I.-issue 1911 in the official World War One-looking leather flap holster. He had a sizable backpack on his shoulders with tourniquets rubber-banded to each strap. His hair was thick, but his beard was gone. Without it, there was no hiding the chin that couldn’t be described as strong since the only word that fit was dominant. His tattoos were as fresh as they’d been the day the bandages had come off. He wore BDU bottoms, mirror-shined jungle boots, and his black shirt with a DL-44 wielding Han Solo and the caption Han Shot First.
Gretchen’s eyes went saucer wide, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“So,” Jammer said with his easy, confident, self-assured smile. “Horatius-at-the-Bridge shit today, am I right?”
I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him, crushing the rifle between us. I felt Gretchen try to get her arms around both of us. It was warm, fulfilling, and everything you’d want a hug to be.
Slowly, I dunno how long the hug lasted—seconds, years—we pulled apart. “Jammer.” Gretchen reached up and wiped a tear away. “What are you doing?”
He nudged toward me with the butt of his rifle. “Dick-deep in stupid, right?”
I glanced at Michael then to Jammer. “I don’t think they’re going to take too kindly to, you know, I dunno, defection?”
Jammer just shrugged and slid his aid bag to the ground. “I’ve been in trouble before. So, is there a strategy or do you just plan on screaming Chuck Yeager! and attacking everyone?”
Gretchen laughed.
“No,” Jammer told her. “He really did that when we came for you and he fought Zadkiel while I did the rest of the work.”
I felt the smirk tug at my lips. I pulled out my flask and took another swig and offered it to Jammer. He took it and lifted it to his lips and gulped eighteen-year-old Macallan before handing me my flask back empty. I put the lid back on and just dropped it. If the world didn’t end I could put it back in my pocket, and if it did end what was the point?
“There's a plan,” I assured him.
“Cool.” He looked to Gretchen. “So, what did you come up with?” She shook her head and pointed to me. Jammer’s shoulder’s slumped. “Well, shit.”
“Hey!” If I sounded offended it’s because I kinda was.
“Well,” he said as he thumbed back the hammer on his rifle, “let’s get to it. Waiting isn’t going to make fucking this goat any easier or pleasant.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you’re here, both of you.�
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Gretchen smiled and Jammer nodded with a confident, “Wouldn’t have missed it, Brother.”
There was no way to avoid it and no time like the present. I looked down at my right hand and started thinking about the world ending. Gretchen being punished for her affiliation with me. Jammer getting kicked from Heaven for being the friend everyone should wish they had. I thought about the people I killed just to get here. I thought about Hollywood remaking movies that didn’t need it. I thought about the Star Wars prequels.
I saw the short, leaf-shaped blade of the xiphos form as my fingers wrapped around the pommel. The blade made of fire, the very Wrath of God there in my grip. I could feel the rage roaring in me like a furnace that would have melted a Terminator, and Shadrack, Mishack, and Abbendego; I don’t care how freaking protected they were. A fire looking to be unleashed, to punish the world. I was standing surprisingly still considering how hard I was fighting inside.
I grabbed the rage and forced it up, and unleashed it as I bellowed, “LUCIFER, MICHAEL, BAALBERIETH, GABRIELLE, AND BRUCE, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!” The voice was mine, but it wasn’t. It felt like I was a puppet dubbed poorly with the voice of God. Not the happy God, but the Get in the boat, I’m about to drown the damned planet God.
Everything was silent for the time being. The wind made no noise, the leaves weren’t speaking up, the bugs decided this wasn’t the time to be noticed. The armies of Heaven and the legions of Hell chose to be diplomatic and not make a peep.
Lucifer was the first to step forward; Michael was next. Michael stepped so fast it was obvious he wished he’d stepped off first and was ashamed he hadn’t. Bruce and Gabrielle stepped off together and politely jogged to catch up with Michael. Baalberieth stepped off last and seemed in no hurry to get anywhere. Lucifer looked confident; Michael wasn’t going to look less confident than Lucifer. Gabrielle and Bruce looked confused. Baalberieth looked like the kid who got called to the chalkboard and had no fucking clue what was going on or what to do when he got the piece of chalk in his hand.
I looked to Gretchen and Jammer and smirked. We all knew this was probably the end, and at least we were in good company.
There was no time for pleasantries as the others approached. Before they even stopped walking, Michael, with all the regal command the Champion of the Armies of Heaven could muster, proclaimed, “The time has come, it’s time to pick a side, Decker.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Nicholas,” Lucifer agreed with a dour resignation.
I felt the smirk on my lips sit there easier. “Good, you two are agreeing. Let’s keep that up while all of you shut your fucking sucks. I’m talking now, and you shit heads are going to listen.”
This was the moment. This was the edge of the razor. This would decide if this world would have a tomorrow.
It was the moment I reached in my pocket and pulled out the envelope. I handed it to Baalberieth, the Archdemon of Lawyers. “Read it.”
He took it and opened the envelope, drawing out the crisp, recently signed and notarized paper. I watched his eyes move over the lines of type and saw them become wide with disbelief. He read it again to make sure he got the gist, then read it a third time, letting the horror sink in.
He looked up at me, jaw slack, eyes filled with fear. “You dumb son of a bitch… do you know what you’ve done?”
I nodded. “I think so.” My voice could have given liquid nitrogen freezer burn.
“Paper is meaningless at this point, Decker,” Michael chided sadly.
“No,” Baalberieth said in terror. “He’s ended us all.”
Baalberieth handed the paper to Lucifer, who read it far more calmly. At the end, he smiled and handed it across to Michael. Michael read while Gabrielle and Bruce leaned over his shoulders to read. Gabrielle covered her mouth as her jaw dropped.
“That’s right, cock bags,” I softly growled. I felt the Wrath tugging at me. It wanted to lash out at its disappointing children. You would think that would make me relate with my parents but it just made me madder. I held on, barely. “I wrote a fucking last will and testament, got it notarized and witnessed and everything. And in the event of my death”—I took time to glare into each and every one of their immortal eyes—“all my various weapons are left to my maternal grandfather.”
It would have been an intimidating moment had Jammer not chuckled.
“So, I die,” I continued, “and I’m betting that omnibenevolent Daddy is going to get really fucking abusive really fucking quick.” I gestured between Lucifer and Michael. “Either of you fucks think the Father’s gonna be pleased or understanding to either damned side?”
“Nick,” Michael said slowly, like he was piecing it together as he went. “The Father separated the Wrath from himself for a reason.”
“And after I’m kacked,” I interrupted him, “the Father can give it away again, but he’s going to have it for a little while. And I’m betting that little while is enough.”
I would say silence filled the air, but it didn’t.
“It’s legal. It stands,” Baalberieth quaked. “Decker dies and the Father…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but even a limited imagination was enough to fill in the rest.
I pointed to Baalberieth and Michael. “You two are going to take the armies and go home. Right now.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Or what?”
This was the moment. I heard the pistol fly from the leather holster, I felt the barrel with the sights filed away press to the point where my ear met my jaw and skull. I heard the hammer thumbed back. Gretchen, God love her, was about three pounds of pressure from killing me and sending the Wrath of God back to the Father.
I pulled Jammer’s 1911 from under my right arm and thumbed back the hammer and pressed the barrel under my jaw as I locked eyes with Michael. I felt Jammer move to my right side, not wanting to be left out, and press the barrel of his rifle to my temple.
“You two,” I repeated as I tried to bore a hole in the archangel Michael with my gaze, “take your armies and go home, or we end everything right… fucking… now…”
Baalberieth looked to Lucifer, and Lucifer didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”
Michael stepped back slowly, not wanting to turn his back on anyone. “Michael,” I told him, “I’ll see you at funerals, but that’s it. Understand.”
He nodded. “This ends nothing, it just delays something worse.”
I nodded and felt the pistol under my chin even more acutely. I then glanced at Gabrielle and Lucifer. “We need to talk about how things are going to work now.”
I slowly took the pistol from under my chin and I aimed it into the dirt as I lowered the hammer. I felt the barrel of Jammer’s rifle pull away. Gretchen’s pistol slowly pulled back from my skull. It was shaking as she did it. I was really glad she didn’t accidentally shoot me.
In flashes of light and smoke, both armies started disappearing.
“Well,” Jammer laughed, “I gotta go.” He reached over and nudged my shoulder. “Good job, dummy.” He hefted his aid bag and slung the lever-action rifle over his shoulder. “Later, gators.” He then paused and looked to Gretchen. “Mind if I ask you something?”
She looked to him curiously. “Sure, hit me.”
“What’s your last name?”
I heard myself interrupt before she could answer. “Decker, if she wants it.”
Jammer smiled, and Gretchen’s eyes went wide. She stood there and shifted her feet from side to side. She bit her lip coyly. “That will do nicely.”
I smiled, Lucifer and Gabrielle did, too.
Jammer turned and started to walk away until I called out, “Hey, Jammer.”
He stopped and looked back.
I asked, “What’s God look like?”
He smiled. “Michael Caine.”
I smiled.
Then for the last time, he quoted the end of every Cowboy Bebop episode except Real Folk Blues Part 2. “See ya, Space Cowboy.”
I nodded
and quoted Red Dwarf. “Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.”
Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.
Gretchen holstered her pistol and slid her right hand in my left. We both squeezed. I looked in her eyes and felt fine.
“So, what now?” asked Bruce awkwardly.
I finally looked away from Gretchen to Bruce. “Sorry, bro. Look, I’ll be honest I called you over here because I knew your name.”
“My name isn’t Bruce,” he tried interrupting.
I didn’t acknowledge that. “So, really, you can jet, man.”
Bruce didn’t screw around. In a flash he was gone, leaving Gretchen and me alone with Lucifer and Gabrielle.
Lucifer broke the quiet with a polite and heartfelt “Congratulations” to Gretchen.
She seemed demure. “Thank you.”
Gabrielle had a worried look on her face. “Nick, what you’ve done,” she struggled to find the words, “it’s so much worse than Armageddon.”
“Nicholas,” Lucifer added with forced calm. “Even if you live your life out without being killed in a random crime or car crash, how long do you think you’re going to live with the way you take care of yourself?”
I looked at Gretchen. Then I looked to the devil and archangel. “So, this is how it’s going to work. Once a month, the four of us will meet at Carl Paxton’s Steak House, have dinner, and discuss business.”
“And you guys will take turns paying,” Gretchen added helpfully.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you’re sending us on vacation,” Gretchen half-laughed.
I looked at her. I couldn’t hide the confusion.
She nodded. “We want two weeks, full butler package at Sandals Montego Bay.”
I smiled. “Yeah, we’re doing nothing but drinking all-inclusive booze.”
“Eating all exclusive food,” she added.
I smiled. “Scuba diving.”
“And trying to break the bed and any other worthy surface.” Gretchen smiled. I blushed at that one.
Gabrielle blushed, too.
“You’ve not saved the world, Nick,” Gabrielle lamented softly, obviously not caught up in the insanity Gretchen and I were caught up in. “You’ve ended it far more horribly, just delayed what? Twenty or thirty years?”