In The Lap Of The Gods

by John B. Hendricks

  “That’s probably not far from the truth,” Absalom said.

  “How’s that?” Solly asked. “There’s no Zeus or Prometheus. Those are just myths.” He looked at them through his thick glasses. “Why do you need this chain?”

  “Well,” Absalom said. “I hate to put it this way, but we’re on a mission from God.”

  “He’s Jake. I’m Elwood.” Fat Boy said. He slid on his black sunglasses.

  “Where’s the chain?” Absalom asked.

  “It’s in a safety deposit box at the bank,” Solly said. “But I’m not taking you there. I’m going to check on Mrs. Goldstein.” He turned to walk away but Absalom grabbed his arm.

  “These are desperate times and we need your help. I’m sorry, Mr. Goldstein. You’ve just been conscripted into the Blues Brother Battalion.” Fat Boy waved the PPK at Solly and the old man paused. “More crazies,” he said. “We should have retired to North Dakota.”

  As they marched out the door, Fat Boy broke into a whistled version of “You’re in the Army Now.”

  Chapter 64[64]

  “Leave the gun in the car, Fat Boy. I don’t think Mr. Goldstein will make a break for it.”

  Fat Boy frowned, and then stuffed the PPK into the glove compartment. “I feel naked without it,” he said.

  “Bad visualization,” Absalom said back.

  They followed Solly into the bank and watched him go through the hoops it takes to gain access to the vault. After the bank lady and Solly turned their keys at the same time as if they were launching a nuclear strike from a submarine, Absalom and Fat Boy joined him in the small viewing room.

  “These are my most valued items,” Solly said. “Be careful handling them.”

  He opened the large box and handed Absalom a pointed object. It was rusted and rough and he put it down quickly.

  Solly said. “When I started my personal journey of exploring the past, I didn’t have a clue what would be important. Everywhere I dug, there was pottery, jewelry, forks, spoons, pendants, trash, and I never felt a connection to anything. I felt so uninspired. After a particularly long and fruitless dig, I changed planes in New York City. During the layover, I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and wandered around the cavernous building for hours. Deep in the bowels, I chanced upon a tapestry called the Nine Worthies. Nine noble warriors from the past, unfortunately all dressed in 14th century garb, but heroes nonetheless.” Solly smiled and ticked off the names on his fingers. Joshua, David, Hector, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Judas Maccabeus, King Arthur, Charlemagne, and Godfrey of Bouillon. “They represented the medieval concepts of chivalry and honor. It was then that I decided to find one special relic from each of these great heroes.” He pointed to the rusty pointed object.

  “That’s the head from the poll axe of Godfrey of Bouillon. It skewered many a Muslim during the Crusades.”

  Fat Boy oohed and aahed.

  A black eagle owned by Charlemagne. The golden breastplate of Alexander the Great. The purple girdle of Hector. A bust of Julius Caesar owned by the great emperor himself. A Judean oil jug from the palace of King David. “I like to think he wrote a few Psalms by its light,” Solly smiled. He pulled a skull out of the box.

  “What the hell?” Absalom said.

  “The skull of Judas Maccabeus,” Solly said triumphantly.

  “Dude, you’re even beginning to creep ME out,” Fat Boy said.

  Solly smiled. “This ram’s horn,” he beamed. “Is said to be the very instrument that brought down the walls of Jericho.” He sat it on the table. Fat Boy reached for it.

  “No,” Absalom said. “You are not going to blow the horn, especially not down here. Right Solly?”

  “I wouldn’t risk it,” Solly said. “Not when we are inside, I mean, who knows what God thinks about this particular branch bank? He may still have a thing about moneychangers.”

  “Don’t you have a King Arthur object in there? The box seems too short to hold Excalibur.”

  “My greatest disappointment,” Solly said. “I never found anything directly related to King Arthur. I roamed the English countryside for years in vain. I even did a serious study into finding the Holy Grail.”

  “Maybe you should write a book about it. It would probably sell quite a few copies.”

  “No one cares about such things,” Solly said and leaned into the box, pulling out a heavy silver chain. Absalom gasped.

  Pure. That word exploded into his head. Good. A firefighter rescuing a little girl. A moonlit night. A baby’s laugh. Absalom’s eyes filled with tears.

  “The etching on these chains is fantastic,” Fat Boy said, examining them closely. “Sort of like Egyptian hieroglyphics, but much finer.”

  “Untranslatable,” Solly said. “There’s no Rosetta stone to cross-reference against so their meaning will probably remain unknown forever.”

  “Unless you meet the guy who had it inscribed,” Absalom said.

  “Yes,” Solly laughed. “When I die and meet my Maker, I’ll be sure to ask him to give me the translation.”

  “You may not have to wait that long,” Absalom said.

  “And we may be able to get you a lead on the Holy Grail,” Fat Boy added.

  Solly nodded. He was used to dealing with dementia. It was best to humor them. Maybe take them for ice cream. He put the chain in his bag and they exited the bank.

  “You fellows have a special place that you need to be getting back to soon?” Solly asked. “Are there people looking for you? Nice people that want to help you?”

  “Would you like to meet them?” said Absalom, starting the car.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Solly said. He leaned back in the seat and thought about Mrs. Goldstein. “Do we have time to go by and check on my wife?”

  A burst of loud noise exploded around them and all three men clapped their hands over their ears. Absalom looked up through the windshield and saw the solid black underbelly of an enormous spaceship speed overhead. The low bass thump slowly abated as it disappeared over the horizon.

  “That’s some sound system they have in there,” Fat Boy said. “I wonder how many watts it pushes.”

  Absalom turned and looked at Solly. “We’re pressed for time, Solly. If we don’t accomplish our mission, it’s not going to make a whole lot of difference. We’ll all be dead or working as the Remusian’s cabana boys.”

  “They’re hiring cabana boys?” Fat Boy asked. “That may be a sweet gig. It beats getting crunched up in an alien trash compactor.”

  Solly assented sadly. “This is your drama,” he said. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  “I’ve felt the same way a lot lately,” Absalom said, mashing down on the accelerator and speeding toward Elijah and Enoch’s house.

  Chapter 65[65]

  “Solly, I’d like you to meet Jehovah.”

  “Call me Joe.”

  Solly shook the man’s hand. He had just met the prophets Elijah and Enoch so there was no reason to be surprised when G-d himself made an appearance. It didn’t appear to be any kind of group home. Maybe it was a new pilot program to help people with religious delusions to integrate back into society. He couldn’t figure out how all the pizza boxes and soda bottles tied into that, though.

  Absalom showed Joe the chain. Joe’s mouth trembled slightly as he handled it gently. “We took the purest silver and I whipped up a little smelting process so I could mix in a little special bonding agent to harden it. Then all the angels loyal to me came by and each one touched the links and professed their undying love for me.”

  “What are the symbols etched on it?” Fat Boy asked.

  Solly’s ears perked up.

  Joe laid the chain out on the kitchen table in a horseshoe shape. “This chain is eight feet long and has 32 links. As the chain was curing, I had Azreul, my finest artist, etch the words in Old Angel, the original written language I came up with.”

  He picked the chain up by the end and rubbed his fingers on the etching. “This is th
e first link and the most important one. It says ‘Worship only me.’ I put it first because it is the most important commandment. I never realized it would be the most ignored commandment. I figured the adultery one would go by the wayside first.” Joe ran his fingers down the links. “Obey only me. Sacrifice only unto me. Do not covet-

  “So this is the original 36 commandments?” Absalom asked.

  “Yes,” Joe answered. “Each of the rules was created to help Mankind fulfill their greatest purpose, to worship me.” Joe scratched his arm. “The creation of man was and is still the greatest act of love in the history of the universe. These were the rules I created for people to live by to show my love for Mankind.”

  Solly was still examining the etchings. “Why did you narrow these down to ten for Moses?”

  “I didn’t,” Joe said with disdain. “He got all thirty-six, but he thought there were too many to sell to his tribes, so he took editorial license and pared them down to ten. This was the thanks I got for showing him the staff turns into a snake trick. You have to admit, it was a great bit.”

  Solly looked at him. “You sound more like a film-flam man than a deity.”

  “Sometimes it’s a fine line,” Joe said.

  “How do I know it’s really you?” Solly said. “I’m an old Jew. I’ve seen many things that hinted at you. I’ve seen relics, paintings, sermons, gospels, commentaries, and a different flavor of Bible for every day of the year.” Solly wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth. “How can I know for sure?”

  “Quite simply, Solly, as I’m quoted in the Bible, I am.” Joe smiled and held out his arms.

  “He is,” Elijah said.

  “Uh-huh,” agreed Enoch.

  Solly looked over at Absalom and Fat Boy. “Weird shit is happening,” Fat Boy said. “I’ve fought with Vikings and met the Devil this week. I’m down with whatever goes on.”

  Absalom’s mind was still twisting like the links in the chain. He had been raised as a Catholic during the 60’s and the God he had learned about from Father Allen, Jesus Christ Superstar, and a thousand guitar masses he had been forced to attend was all peace, love and harmony. No fire and no brimstone. “The loving God,” Father Allen had told him, “wants nothing from us. He gives us everything with love, no strings attached. You just have to believe.”

  Absalom took these words to heart, even when the good padre was booted out of the parish for too much wine imbibing and just a few too many “counseling” sessions with some of parish ladies.

  Absalom looked at the chain again and then at Joe. This wasn’t the God of his childhood, a period of time far removed from the dusty depths of the ancient world filled with Bronze Age goat-herders. This was the authoritarian God of Adam and Eve. This was the God of Abraham, told to sacrifice his son. This God had cities destroyed to wipe out those who didn’t follow his rules. This God had killed more people than Stalin, Mao, and Hitler had ever dreamed of killing. Absalom felt a tremble of fear start in his fingers and he stuffed them in his pockets. Fear was what Joe wanted. Fear and acquiescence.

  “I believe it’s him as well,” Absalom told Solly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. “You’ve read the Torah. What do you think?”

  Solly laughed. “When G-d allowed Auschwitz and Buchenwald, the Torah and I became estranged friends. No G-d of mine would have allowed such horrors. Besides, does it really matter if I believe in this man who likes L.L. Bean shirts and says he can read my chain? I have a wife to see, maybe for the last time.”

  Solly turned toward the door and opened it to leave.

  “You can’t leave,” Elijah said.

  “And why is that Mr. I Say I’m An Important Prophet?”

  “I don’t normally do this,” Elijah said. “But it looks like I’ll have to intercede.” He tapped his ink pen on his clipboard. “Look at this.” Solly eyed him skeptically and took the clipboard from Elijah’s hand. “Read number 56.”

  Solly read it and shook his head, then read it again.

  “So?” Elijah asked him, taking back the clipboard.

  “How is that possible?” Solly stammered.

  “A little bird whispered in his ear,” Enoch smirked. Elijah took a swipe at him with the clipboard.

  “What did it say?” Absalom asked.

  Solly coughed dryly. “A man named Solly with help save the world and will also find the thing he’s been looking for his whole life.”

  “What have you been looking for?” Elijah asked. “The true meaning of life? The path to true spirituality? A real good recipe for jambalaya?”

  “I think the thing Solly is really looking for is the Holy Grail,” Fat Boy said.

  “Oh, that thing,” Joe said. “I left it in my office on the credenza. I suppose you can stop by there after you get done stopping Lucifer.” He looked at the group. “It might be best to go ahead and get started. It’s a long trip to Rugby, North Dakota.”

  “Why do we have to go to North Dakota?” asked Absalom. “Shouldn’t we just follow Lucifer to Wisconsin?”

  “I considered that,” Joe answered. “I’m concerned that he may have left something or someone to guard that portal. Lucifer’s been planning this for a long time, I’ll bet, and I can’t imagine he would leave an opening like that to foil his plan.” Joe flipped through his Angel Book. “The next closest route to Heaven here in North America is the infamous Rugby North Dakota, the geographical center of North America.” He wrote a few notes into a stenographer’s notebook.

  “It’s over 2,000 miles to Rugby from here,” Absalom said as he consulted an atlas. “It will take us at least 25 hours to drive there, assuming we aren’t picked up by the Remusian’s androids.” Low-flying spaceships had been buzzing over periodically; skimming close to the ground, clipping antennas off older houses, and using their air wash to scatter debris in all directions.

  “I just got done checking the airlines,” Fat Boy announced. “No direct flights into the area that I can find. We can get there in 9 hours, but we have to stop in Milwaukee and Minneapolis on the way. Then we have to drive an hour from Devil’s Lake to Rugby. We wouldn’t get there until midnight tomorrow night”

  “Now that seems appropriate,” Absalom said. “Devil’s Lake.”

  “Can’t you just cross your arms and nod your head or something,” Solly asked Joe. “Or just twitch your nose? Aren’t you all-powerful?”

  “We went through that before you got here,” Joe said. “On Earth, even I have to take a cab to get around.”

  “Are there any directions from the clipboard?” Absalom asked.

  “I’m a major Prophet, not a travel agent,” Elijah sneered.

  “I have a suggestion,” Enoch said. “Punch a few holes in a crate, pack yourself in, and you’ll be there by 10:00 am local time. A little overnight delivery.”

  “Enoch had a few too many at the restaurant,” Elijah said, making a tippling motion, tilting his head back.

  Solly kept listening. He was thinking it was all a dream. His name on the clipboard, written in an elegant flowing style, couldn’t be a coincidence. Was it possible that he was finally succumbing to the disease that had invaded Mrs. Goldstein? Was the answer truly in Rugby North Dakota? There was only one way to find out if this was all reality or just some crazy fever dream. The Holy Grail!

  “I can get us there,” he told the group. “I know a pilot we can charter a plane with. He owes me a favor, so we could be in Rugby by morning. He has flown me to a lot of places all over the country on a moment’s notice.”

  “I told you he would come in handy,” Elijah said to Enoch, elbowing him sharply.

  “Excellent,” Joe said, ripping a page from his notepad. “Here are a few addresses you’ll need in Heaven and a couple of suggestions as well.”

  The group departed after a series of manly hugs. Two of the members with filled with discomfort and doubt. One filled himself with doughnuts.

  “A down and out writer, an one-eighth Irish conspiracy geek, and an o
ld Jewish archaeologist on their way to save the world,” Fat Boy said between bites. “I am so psyched.”

  They were in Rugby by dawn.

  Chapter 66[66]

  “Baldur, do you see those guys at the obelisk?”

  Baldur looked up from his breakfast. He was having the Cornerstone Café’s biscuits and gravy and a cup of coffee. If he weren’t dead, he would have put on ten pounds by now. “Yeah, I see them. So what?”

  Barbatos said. “They look very suspicious. The fat guy is wearing a Barry Manilow shirt. In one of the torture pits we would put on fake concerts and make people wear Barry Manilow t-shirts and listen to “Mandy” repeatedly. Lilith gave that one a top ten rating and even featured it in the Hell Newsletter. Do you think that may be the backup team that’s going to do what we were supposed to do?”

  Baldur looked more closely. An old guy in a flowery shirt, a fat guy that looked like an obese ninja, and a nondescript man dressed as if he was on his way to a regular job on a regular day. “The other two don’t look very demonic,” he commented.

  “Maybe they’re disguised,” Aamon said through a mouthful of Belgian waffle.

  “Let’s go talk to them,” Barbatos said. “Maybe they want to be free from Lilith like we did. We can help.” He chugged his freshly squeezed orange juice and they all ran outside.

  “Brother,” Barbatos said to Solly, squeezing him. “You are free from her evil clutches.”

  “How did you know about Mrs. Goldstein?” Solly asked.

  “Mrs. Goldstein?” Barbatos asked. “Is that what they’re calling Lilith these days? I don’t get the reference.”

  “Hold it right there,” Fat Boy said, pointing the Walther PPK at them. “This gun is loaded with silver bullets. It can even kill minions of Lucifer, such as yourselves.”