by Jamie Ott
Grabbing onto the shelf, Bally pulled himself up.
“It’s okay, Jacko.”
“It’s not okay.”
“You did what you had to. This is the sort of thing that happens when law doesn’t exist.”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just scared, and I reacted.”
He pulled a tee shirt from the nearby rack and pressed it to the back of his head, which was bleeding copiously.
“Look, I know you feel bad but we gotta go. There might be more than just these two. Can you pull it together, long enough for us to get out of here?”
Uncle Bally swayed as he struggled to stay upright.
Jacko put his arm under his shoulder and heaved him forward.
Uncle Bally was right. The moment they stepped outside, it was to see a handful of men pilfering the old pickup.
Two, who had rifles, pointed them immediately.
Uncle Bally tried to pull his hand gun, but he’d lost his coordination. His arm merely flopped around and he almost fell.
Carefully, he set him on the ground. “Don’t worry, I got this,” he whispered. “I don’t want you, further, injuring yourself.”
One of the men, long and tired looking, walked around to face him and said, “Is this your truck?”
“What do you think?”
“Better get walking if you don’t wanna get dead,” the guy said, pointing to the road. “We’re taking everything.”
Jacko punched him throat, leaned into him and yanked the back of his opposite arm, forcing him to turn into a chokehold.
“You got two minutes to put everything back, and then get out of here.”
“If you don’t want your friend to get shot,” said a man with bloodshot eyes, “you’ll let him go, now!”
Jacko, instantly, tightened his hold on the man’s neck. A sound like a belching drain issued from his throat. The look on the man’s face must have been distorted as he struggled for breath, as suddenly, one of them said, “Alright, alright, we’ll put the stuff back. Just loosen your grip, there. Don’t hurt our buddy.”
Uncle Bally pushed himself off the ground with gun in hand.
When they’d put everything back, they carefully walked to their sides of the truck.
“Get inside, Jacko. I got my gun on ‘em,” he said, once he’d settled into the driver’s seat and closed his door.
Jacko opened the passenger door and pushed his hostage away from him. Just as he was about to get inside the truck, they fired several shots at them.
His nerves already thoroughly frayed, he reacted, once more, without real intention.
He raised his hand and the bullets reversed direction.
At that moment, the Earth rumbled and quaked. Blinding light shined down from the sky, making him duck and cover. Finally, there was a deafening sound of an explosion.
After a few moments, as the Earth continued quaking, Jacko dared to look up. Every cloud in the sky had been illuminated, making them look like bright white celestial seas. For a moment, it got really hot.
A voice from the clouds that vibrated to the core of his being said, “It has begun!”
And then the light withdrew, leaving them, once again, in the cool semi darkness of the charcoal gray sky.
“Come on, get in!” shouted Bally.
But just as he pulled the lever on the truck door, he saw that one of the men lay on the hood of their truck, bleeding to death. All the other men had fallen as well.
Then it made sense: what had begun was the war. His sojourn was over because he’d proven himself battle worthy.
“Jacko, what are you doing?”
As they made their way home, he watched the sky. Colorful beams of light flew across the atmosphere, and then exploded into bits of light that trickled out.
Uncle Bally was completely oblivious.
“How’s your head?”
“Throbs but I’ll be alright.”
They rode up the right side of the driveway. Jacko held him all the way to the door, and then fished the keys from Uncle Bally’s denim pocket.
He pushed the door inward, and it banged against the wall. Then he tried to shoulder him into the living room, but he wouldn’t move.
“What’s wrong?”
Rage distorted his face.
Jacko turned his head and saw what infuriated him.
The couch had been destroyed. Foam shredding blanketed the entire floor, and polluted the air with particles, giving the room a hazy atmosphere.
Uncle Bally pulled the gun from his hip again.
Gently, they crossed the threshold. Looking left and right, and seeing no one, they proceeded into the kitchen.
Jacko should have known.
The contents of pot roast, from the prior evening, lay on the floor; the meat gone, and the potatoes smeared all over. An entire loaf of bread was ripped to shreds and tossed about.
There, wings beating wildly, and hurling pieces of frozen fish at each other were the two bat babies.
Joe was covered in mustard, and Larry was glistening wet with some substance that dripped onto the floor.
Uncle Bally shrieked and took aim with his gun.
“No!” shouted Jacko, pushing his arm down. “It’s okay!”
He set Uncle Bally in the chair. Then he looked at the bats who stared, unfazed, back at him.
“You, two, are in BIG trouble!”
Jacko knew they understood him because their wings slowed their beats, making them bounce further up and down in the air.
“Now, you got ten minutes to get this mess cleaned up, or I’ll cage you!”
They turned to each other and spoke. Larry pointed his finger, and Joe went and got the broom and started sweeping it with his little arms.
“Don’t you guys have magic to clean this mess up with?”
They didn’t answer.
Larry went back to the refrigerator and pulled out the pound of freshly sliced chicken meat.
“Get out of there, Larry! You help him clean, now, or I swear your punishment will be worse!”
Larry dropped the bag and got the rag that was in the sink. He set to wiping the floor after Joe’s broom strokes.
“I’m gonna take my uncle to rest. When I get back, if you guys are messing around at all, I’ll bind you so that you can’t even blink.”
He bent over and heaved Uncle Bally out of the chair. They made their way to his bedroom where he laid down.
“What were those things?”
“They’re,” he paused, wondering how much he should tell him. “Uh, they’re my pets. They’re harmless.”
“Enough with the bull, now out with the truth.”
His uncle was a bit redneck, but he could always tell when someone was lying. Jacko figured he might as well test a bit of the truth on him, and see how he handled it.
“You won’t believe me, but here it goes,” he sighed. “They’re demons but not in the bad biblical sense. They’re just another species, kind of like dogs or cats, except they have our level of intelligence. And they’re pretty much harmless.”
Although Uncle Bally said nothing, Jacko saw disbelief in his eyes.
“Well, I’d better go check on them. They may be harmless, but as you’ve seen, they can be mischievous. Can I get you anything?”
“Did you bring them here?”
Such a plain question surprised him.
“You believe me, then?”
He stared, silently.
“I brought them because they were hungry.”
Uncle Bally’s lip curled and his eyebrows furrowed down.
“Okay, okay,” he said, putting up his hand in a please stop motion. He could tell his uncle was about to snap. “I brought them because I didn’t want them telling others that I’m here.”
“Who’s after you?”
Jacko merely stood there.
“Are you gonna answer my question, or am I gonna have to shoot it out of you?”
He just didn
’t know how to tell him everything. Even more importantly, he didn’t want his uncle to look at him differently. He was a judgmental type.
Uncle Bally must have seen the wheels turning in his head, because he sighed and asked, “It’s not drugs or money they’re after, is it?”
“No, I swear that’s not it. Look, if I tell you, you won’t believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or evil.”
“Alright, so what do we do?”
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s all on me. I’ll know what to do when the time is right; that’s what they said.”
“Who said?” he asked strongly.
“Some friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
Uncle Bally looked like he wanted to pressure him for details but thought better of it. Then he asked, “Why is ‘it’, as you say, on you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“How am I supposed to help you, if you won’t explain?”
“I gave you a bit of truth just now. I don’t want to tell you anymore. Not just yet, but I’ll give this much: there are other species out there, like those in the kitchen. They’re bigger, meaner, and more dangerous than you can imagine.”
He waited for Uncle Bally to reply, but he only looked at him a moment, and then said, “Well, Jacko, I need some rest. My head’s killing me. Shut the door on your way out.”
He rolled over onto his side.
Back in the kitchen, Joe and Larry were levitating around the pile of food they’d swept into the center of the floor, eating and chatting.
“Why do you keep tossing the potatoes? They’re quite good. Try them.”
Larry pigeon talked in a demanding manner to Joe. He, then, picked up a quarter size piece of a potato and stuck his fang in it, then pulled out. The soft whiteness crumbled slightly in his hand, and then he licked it with his tongue. Deciding to go for it, he plopped the whole piece in his mouth and chewed. As he did this, his pointed ear tips poked up and down, repeatedly. He plunged both hands in and started shoving as much into his mouth as he possibly could; Larry followed suit.
Jacko walked across the kitchen and peered through the window, up at the sky. Action was still heavy up there. The war had, indeed, begun.
And the Gods Came Down
Chapter 6
After Larry and Joe finished their mountain of food, he let them outside for a bit of exercise. They, too, noticed the sky, and were struck by it for a moment before resuming their childlike behavior of flying about, play fighting and taunting each other.
Uncle Bally stayed in his room for the rest of the day, though he got up to use the bathroom, once. Jacko wondered if he should have used his power to heal him, but then thought better of it. No doubt, he’d call Jacko evil and go on about witchcraft.
He spent the rest of the afternoon unloading the truck.
When he went to move the old mattress out of his room, he saw that someone had been there.
Lying on the crusty old blanket was a gold arch and light tan leather bag with gold arrows. They looked exactly like the ones he’d dreamt about weeks ago. Beside it lay a gold belt with a gold colored sword and gold round shield.
The sword was quite heavy, and the belt was stiff and cold. The bow and arrows had a bit of moist perspiration on them. On the sword was etched the words ‘And the light lead you.’
That night, he magically locked the bats in his closet. Before he shut the door, he said, “Go to sleep.”
The next morning, he found Uncle Bally in the kitchen, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette.
Immediately, the bat babies started hacking. They’d probably never smelled smoke before.
Jacko opened the back door to the kitchen.
“Go out and get some exercise. Hunt, if you will, but you’d better be back before twilight, or I’ll find you and bind you. Now, go!”
They zoomed out of the door.
“I must admit,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I was hoping it was all a dream.”
Jacko pulled a cup from the cabinet.
“I’ve been wishing this was all a dream every day for months now.”
“So is it safe for you to be here?”
Jacko sat down at the table with his steaming coffee and said, “Not anymore. It seems someone knows I’m here. I would’ve left yesterday, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first.”
“I’m fine,” he exhaled and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m just sore is all; had a killer headache yesterday, naturally. Listen, I’m not kicking you out, I’m just wondering if more things, like those demon things, are coming? You said some of them are dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“You mean, yes, other more dangerous demons could come for you?”
He nodded.
“Just answer me this,” he said, staring him right in the eyes. “Are you the antichrist?”
Jacko choked on his coffee.
“Uncle Bally, it’s not the apocalypse, like in the bible. You just have to understand that there are many things that man got wrong - including the antichrist. You mustn’t bring that up, ever again.”
He watched his uncle put the butt to his mouth and take a long drag.
“What should we do to get ready?” he exhaled.
“This isn’t you’re fight. You’ll get killed. Just be prepared to go down into your shelter. If someone comes looking for me, just run. These beings are strong. You can’t beat them.”
“Son, I’ve been readying for this ever since the storms. I appreciate your concern for me, but war is what the end of the world is about in every religion! So yes, my life is on the line, just like any other man, woman, and child. If you’re fightin’ demons, then we must be on the same side: the right side. I know you think I’m not ready to know everything, but I want in on the fight. You can’t do everything alone; you’re gonna need someone. Now, what do we do?”
Suddenly, it hit Jacko that there was something he could help him with before he had to go.
He got up and went to his room.
A second later, he returned, carrying the bag of arrows and the bow.
“Wow! Where did you get them beauties?”
“Someone left them for me while we were in town. I think I’m supposed to use them, but I don’t know how.”
Jacko didn’t realize how heavy they were. Ever since getting his blessing, he’d become stronger than a normal man. So without thinking, he handed the bag and bow to his uncle, who plopped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Ooof!” shouted his uncle.
The bag clanged noisily to the floor, making a huge dent.
“I - I’m sorry! Did you hurt your head?”
“I’m fine, dammit!” he shouted. “What hell? Is that really made of gold?”
“I don’t know. I think its gold and platinum. Mom used to tell me stories about these kinds of weapons. They’re meant to kill things that don’t wound easy. Demons have thick skin.”
He helped Uncle Bally off the floor.
That afternoon, he and his uncle set up an enormous foam target in the back. He taught him how to aim far and high, and how to adjust for speed according to target and distance. Uncle Bally used a spare set of bow and arrows he had in his garage while Jacko used the gold ones.
The bat babies, having returned from hunting, seemed to the think the arrows were a game. Cackling like witches, they grabbed them, midair, and threw them back at him and Uncle Bally. The arrows left painful welts on their bodies. Uncle Bally was especially miffed when he saw how easy even the little bat babies could throw the arrows, yet he could barely hold one.
“You stupid sons!” he yelled, when he saw that the arrows were putting dents in the side of his house frame. “You’re gonna fix those!!”
Then as they shot the foam target, the bat babies would fly across the path of the arrows, ducking around them. A couple of times, Uncle Bally’s arrows caught them, but they just bounced off their leathery skin.
“Will you get out of here?” yelled Jacko.
After a few days, they found Uncle Bally’s soft spot. They brought dead squirrels and birds to him, looking for his approval.
“Well, you guys are little warriors!” he laughed.
Although it took a couple days, Jacko got pretty good at archery; so good that the bats started staying a number of feet away. His arrows would’ve surely split them in half, killing them.
He found that he could get the arrows going faster than his uncle could see.
His uncle had since make shifted a catapult that flung bottles and cans into the air, which Jacko’s arrows shattered flawlessly.
“Jacko, have you noticed how the bag keeps filling itself?”
“Huh?”
He looked down at the bag.
Uncle Bally was right. He hadn’t retrieved any of the arrows that he’d shot in the last couple of days, yet the bag was full.
That evening, as they and the bats sat down to a stew dinner, there was a loud explosion on the front of the property.
Uncle Bally grabbed his .22.
“Here, take this,” he said, handing him one, too.
They ran to the front door.
The sky was a gleam as usual with white and greenish explosions, here and there.
The right portion of the yard was on fire. A figure leapt out of the flames, dancing around in a circle, screaming like an elephant. Its black leathery legs and horned head were visible as the flames melted down its midriff.
“That’s a demon, Uncle Bally.”
But Uncle Bally was distracted, looking at the sky. He said weakly, “I think your friends are here.”
Jacko looked up and saw bodies as big as mountains walking across the atmosphere as though it were solid ground. They were slightly hard to see, as their bodies were mostly fluidly clear, indicating that they were the gods of Ouranus.
“Those aren’t my friends, Uncle. They’re with the demons.”
One of the gods aimed a spear at them. A giant red bolt shot down.
Jacko pushed Uncle Bally out of the way. The beam blew out the front of the house.
“What did he do that for?” he shouted.
Behind the gods, a tribe of black cherubs with demons on their backs galloped across the sky, toward them. Their heads of many eyes a gleam, and their massive wings spread wide.
“Get inside the house!” shouted Jacko.
But Uncle Bally was frozen in fear. He wouldn’t move; he prayed, rapidly, under his breat.