Holy Sheoly

by Hunter Blain

  “Ah, I get what you are saying. God could have easily created the universe, but he was self-aware enough to understand it would work better with another set of eyes on it that saw things differently.”

  “Now you are catching on, John!” Da said with a single clap of his hands in excitement.

  “Heh, can’t help but wonder how many universes he created before he came to that conclusion.”

  “We will never know,” Da admitted. “But to answer your question, Samael and Michael were evenly matched in terms of power. What made the ultimate distinction was that Father made the archangels, including Michael, much larger than us regular celestials.”

  “Wait, you’re saying that not all angels can puff up to giant size?”

  “Well, if we focus, most of us can expand to around ten feet tall, or even as small as five inches,” he said with a wink, “and everything in between. However, Michael, much like Uriel out there, was somewhere around the twelve-foot mark. Even at his full size, Samael could never match the height of his brother.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a difference. Ten feet. Twelve feet. They are both huge!”

  “Consider it like the difference between two fighters who are evenly matched in skill, but one is only five feet tall while the other is six feet.”

  “Ah, that makes more sense.”

  “Right. Michael was able to inch out a victory using his superior reach and mass. But, if I were to be honest, I also strongly believe that the fact that Samael’s own brother was drawing a sword against him devastated his fortitude for battle, sapping him of the fire needed for a fight of that caliber.”

  “Hey!” I called out, pointing a finger at my friend. “I thought you said the truth was in the middle. Sounds like you believe Baleius’ version.”

  “Think of it like this, John. If Samael was marching up to Father to demand that all angels be loved like the humans He created—using the formula Samael helped develop, no less—he honestly didn’t believe anyone would draw swords against him.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” I threw my hands up to halt his momentum. “You’re saying that Samael helped create human beings’ personality traits?”

  “Yes. Tested on angels and perfected with the humans.”

  “Perfected is a strong word there, buddy.”

  “When I was last on Earth, there were around seven and a half billion souls on the planet. Pick any two, no matter how similar they seem on paper, and you will eventually find a divergence. No two humans are exactly the same. I’d say that is perfection.”

  I leaned back with my mouth slightly open as I let his words drift through my head. He was right.

  “Okay, so Samael was butt hurt that Dad took all the credit for creating humans and didn’t even ask to use the formula they had crafted together. I suppose I can understand the frustration. No one likes having their work stolen. But it still doesn’t make sense.”

  “That is because you aren’t blinded by emotion. The picture seems clear to you because only your mind is picking the pieces apart and analyzing everything. That wasn’t so for Samael or the third of God’s angels that followed him.”

  “Let me guess; that third was more on the spectrum toward emotion, just like Samael.”

  “Look at any given protest throughout history. They are emotionally charged, which evokes a powerful response in those that follow.”

  “Oh shit! I guess humans really are like angels.”

  “For all intents and purposes, yes.”

  “So why did Samael and those that followed him think God didn’t love them anymore?”

  Da slowly inhaled while carefully choosing his next words. I had a gut feeling that he was intentionally trying to keep from giving me too much information, and it was frustrating.

  “Father went silent after creating the archangels to carry out his day-to-day duties,” Da informed me with a stern face that suggested he wouldn’t reveal anything further.

  “He went...silent. And that’s why Samael thought he wasn’t loved anymore? Seems kind of petty to me.”

  “Once again, I point out that you are viewing the situation from a purely clinical perspective without being subjected to any of the emotional elements. Tell me, have you ever made a questionable decision because you were upset?”

  I stared back with hard eyes at Da, who knew the answer to the rhetorical question. But I accepted his point.

  “I think I understand,” I sighed with shrinking shoulders as my eyes drifted down to the fire.

  Another question formed, and my gaze went back to my guardian angel.

  “Do you think Samael will destroy everything to get what he wants?”

  “I assume you are referring to him wanting to claim Father’s throne?”

  “He says he doesn’t actually want it but believes God isn’t lifting a finger to stop the universe from falling apart. He made the reference that God is a gardener that created a lush, fruitful garden and just walked away, letting it rot and be consumed over time.”

  “That sounds like something my brother would say,” Da said softly as he placed his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands between his legs.

  “Well?” I asked, shooting my hands out to my sides in frustration as I awaited his answer. “Will he let the universe burn if he doesn’t take over, or what?”

  Da looked at me with a stern expression that flickered in the flames, and said something that chilled me to my core, “What would you be willing to risk to do what you think is right?”

  My mouth hung open as his meaning filled my head like a dump truck full of water filling a kiddy pool. My eyes reflectively shot to Dawson and then back to Da as comprehension dawned like a nuclear detonation illuminating a room made of windows. The tip of my nose, lips, and fingers all tingled.

  I had traveled to Hell, not only once but twice, to save my friends. I was currently sitting in Sheol with no idea how I would return and no clue if I could even bring Da and Dawson with me. I had risked all of creation because of something I thought was right.

  I slowly leaned back in my chair with a scowl of dread mixed with helplessness as I understood the horrific answer to my question. Samael would let everything burn because he thought he was right.

  14

  After sitting in silence long enough for it to become almost uncomfortable, I wordlessly stood up and hugged Da, who then instructed Dawson to take me somewhere I could rest and reflect.

  Dawson showed me to a private hut a few rows down from Da’s. I had left the reunion when words could no longer form in my mouth and my brain was fried from everything Da had said.

  “Thanks,” I said flatly, forcing the words out.

  “No prob, bruh,” Dawson responded with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. I didn’t know if he’d already known most of what Da had told me tonight. Or was it today? There was no way to know what time it was.

  I laid on a surprisingly soft bed, doing my best not to think about what it was made of, and tilted my head to look past my feet and out the entrance. I had several feet of bed left after my boots, and I scrunched up my brow in confusion before returning to look outside.

  The sky was inky black and I casually noticed there was no wind, nor had there been.

  People walked by chatting, some even laughing. It did my heart good to know Da had helped these people find hope in a land of hopelessness, like a sprouting sapling growing from the aftermath of a volcano eruption; a single green vine pushing through the black river of cold lava that had once eaten everything in its wake.

  I shifted to my side and propped my head up on my hand as I continued to look at the passersby who were in various stages of glowing and repair. A smile defied the odds and forced my lips to curl against the heavy weight of knowledge I had just received. My eyes took in healthy men and women that had been paired up with people that were so decomposed that I couldn’t even tell any definable features about them. I understood, then, that they were guides showing the newbies around th
eir new home.

  My eyes, though they weren’t reached by my slight smile, did soften from a stern gaze to a soft expression.

  I was startled when a hulking monster of a man crouched and entered my hut.

  I pushed up into a seated position as Uriel froze in place and eyed me angrily.

  My gaze shot back down to the enormous bed and I understood where I was.

  “Um...Dawson brought me here,” I said with my palms out in surrender.

  “I’m sure that he did. Now if you would be so kind, get the hell out.”

  I scrambled to move past the big guy, tripping over his huge feet and falling on my face just outside his hut.

  A familiar laugh rang out and I lifted a dust-covered scowl to see Dawson bent over in his mirth and clutching his stomach.

  “Bad Dawson. That’s a bad Dawson!” I called out, but with a degree of warmth to it. It felt good to be playing around with my friend again, even if he was a dick.

  After I got to my feet, I patted myself clean and walked to where my friend was wiping a tear from his eye.

  “Saw an opportunity and I took it, dude.”

  “Eh, I can appreciate that.”

  “Come on. You can bunk with me.”

  Dawson started walking and I jogged to catch up with him.

  “Not that I mind, but...I don’t get my own?”

  “Nah, dude, for two reasons. One, you won’t be here long enough, and two, the new ones are at the edge.” Dawson pointed a finger down an aisle that was flanked on either side by huts spaced evenly apart. They went as far as my eyes could see. I let out a long whistle as I looked.

  “Guess that makes sense,” I mumbled as we stepped into a hut. It only had one bed, and I shot a screwed-up face to my friend. “Look, I don’t put out.”

  “Catch some zzz’s, dude. Da says you’re gonna need all the rest you can get before tomorrow.”

  “Why? What happens tomorrow?”

  “We try the impossible.”

  “Dude, that’s something you say at the end of a chapter as, like, a tiny cliff-hanger or somethin’. This is real life, m’kay? Care to be a bit more specific with me?” I asked, holding up my thumb and index with a few inches between them.

  “You’re gonna get out of Sheol, dude,” Dawson said with a hint of annoyance.

  I sat on his bed and moved into a lying position, and I was irritated to discover the opposite problem to the one in Uriel’s hut.

  “His porridge was too long. Your porridge is too short,” I lamented as I laid my forearm across my eyes and kicked my feet to-and-fro. The bed only went down to the middle of my calves.

  “Works for me, bruh,” Dawson said. I could hear a shit-eating grin in his voice.

  From the rustling, I deduced Dawson was pulling up a chair around the modest fire, and I moved my arm to see his profile staring into the flames.

  “What is it?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.

  “How long have I been dead?” he asked somberly.

  I pushed myself the rest of the way into a seated position, taken aback by his question, and gave it some serious thought.

  “Um, that’s hard to tell because I was in Faerie for six months,” I trailed off as I continued doing the math, “But three years passed on Earth.” I thought about the events with Silver and Asmodeus, followed by what happened with Ulric, and realized that had only been a few days’ time, at least on Earth. “Less than thirty-seven months, I think.”

  “So Joey’s still alive?” Dawson asked as he turned a hopeful expression on me.

  In an instant—in a fucking instant—I saw my friend register the thoughts that were etched into my face before he shot his gaze back to the fire. His right leg began bouncing up and down like he was trying to play the double bass drums with one foot. His head was slowly shaking back and forth as his eyes remained fixated on the flames. I could see his lips were almost nonexistent, they were pressed so tight.

  “How?” he demanded in a soft voice with a razor’s edge, like he was trying to keep himself from screaming and only barely maintaining control.

  I’m scared.

  My treacherous mind raced to fill in the scene I was trying not to relive. I saw Ulric’s hand burst through Joey’s chest in a shower of blood and bone. I saw the look of surprise in Joey’s nonswollen eye. I saw that eye go glassy as the life left his body.

  My fingers absently grazed my face, feeling where the warm blood had rained down.

  “Ulric killed him,” I confessed in a flat voice.

  “Ulric?” Dawson asked as his bouncing leg froze in place and his face turned to me. Half of his expression was cast in shadow, but I saw the unmistakable glint of a tear as it rolled down his darkened cheek.

  “Yeah, man,” I breathed as I placed my face in my hands. “I couldn’t protect him.”

  “I thought you were stronger than Ulric! And...and-and that we had, like, captured him and shit!” Dawson’s face returned to the fire and he quickly wiped at the rogue tear that had slipped free. His right leg resumed bouncing up and down in rapid succession.

  “Ulric made a deal with Satan to become the Grand Master Warlock. He is now the most powerful being on Earth.”

  Dawson thought about what I said, and then froze as his head slowly turned to me. With a shaky voice, he asked, “Is...is Joey...” His words petered off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, he raised a finger up to the sky, which a part of me found ironic as I knew he was referring to Hell but was using a gesture that was predominately reserved for Heaven.

  “I think so,” I confessed, tired of the lies. “But that’s one reason I’m here, dude! I’m going to free him, like...” I trailed off.

  “Like you did for me...” Dawson finished with a cold tone. He looked into my eyes and must have seen the pain there because his resolve quickly melted and he added, “It wasn’t your fault, dude. I don’t blame you, alright?”

  My throat became tight and I just nodded once while the space between my eyebrows lifted.

  “Uh-huh,” I breathed out, trying not to burst into sobs.

  “Dude, it’s okay. I’ve helped a lot of people down here and feel pretty good about everything. I...I just wasn’t expecting to hear about Joey. I’ve almost forgotten what his voice sounds like,” Dawson said about his twin brother as he looked at me with an expectant expression.

  After three full seconds, we both burst out laughing. A few tears spilled from the corner of my eyes and I wiped them away, feeling a massive relief from the guilt of Dawson’s death. I knew it had been a huge burden on me, but maybe I’d failed to understand just how much I was holding onto it.

  “So, yeah, after I get outta here, I’m gonna find Joey and send him home to your parents.”

  “Good,” Dawson said, returning to look at the fire. “He deserves peace.”

  I got to my feet and hit my head on the hut’s ceiling with an “Ow!” Rubbing my head, I took the two steps to my friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You deserve it too, you know,” I said in a statement rather than as a question.

  “I like it here, but I do miss my mom and dad. I saw them, you know?” Dawson said as he looked up at me. “I saw them when you freed me. I was so close to touching their hands.” His voice was trembling on the verge of sobs as he held out an arm, fingers outstretched, in an unconscious imitation of his memory.

  “I know,” I said softly, patting Dawson’s shoulder. I had almost forgotten how muscular it was.

  Footsteps padded outside and Da entered the hut.

  “It’s time.”

  15

  “You guys are killing me with the cliff-hanger phrases,” I drawled as Da turned to walk out.

  “Come along, Dawson,” Da said over his shoulder as he made his way toward the center of town.

  Dawson and I looked at one another and shrugged in unison.

  I stepped outside first, followed by my shorter compadre, and called out to Da, “Hey! I thought I was
going to get to rest!”

  “You’ve rested long enough,” Da said as he twisted his neck to give me a knowing sidelong glance. Bastard knew what he was doing sending me alone with Dawson, and I loved him for it.

  I raced to catch up to Da while Dawson casually strolled behind us.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We walked for a minute or two when a question leaped up in my mind.

  “Hey, Da,” I asked, walking side by side. “In the dungeons, you know, when you, um...”

  “When you prevented the darkness from swallowing all of creation,” Da said with a smile, knowing I was going to say, “Sacrificed yourself,” but sparing me the pain.

  “Yeah. That. You, um, you said, ‘He chose wisely.’ What did you mean by that? Who chose?”

  He stopped walking and turned to look at me, and I could see he was calculating what to say.

  “Just tell me, man. No more secrets. Please,” I urged.

  He chewed on my request for another moment before nodding his head, placing his hands on his hips, and saying, “Gabriel helped me find you back on that bridge in 1965. I didn’t know why at the time, until I met you; then I understood. He sent me to help guide you.”

  I wanted to get angry at never being told this information before now, but instead, I focused on something that stood out.

  “You do have a propensity for helping people. Me, Magni, Locke...well, maybe not him.” I looked around at the haven of Sheol. “All these people. They’d be lost without you. And you came here willingly.”

  Da smiled a smile that was both tired and determined. I knew he would never stop aiding those that needed him the most, no matter what it cost him. And I admired him for it.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” I said while lightly punching his arm in the way that men do.

  “You have a big responsibility on your shoulders, John. But I believe in you.” Da then resumed walking.