by john | Jul 20, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
We’re in the home stretch now, both in uploads and edits. If I finish editing before I finish uploading, the whole thing might see print before it sees the web, but that’s pretty unlikely. But I’m feeling pretty solid that the book will be available by Labor Day at the latest in hard copy, and sooner than that for the Kindle and other e-book formats. In the meantime, enjoy the next section and go buy my other book in hard copy here or here. And it’s now available for the Kindle here. And if you have a site and could pimp the current book, it’ll garner my undying love and gratitude (and maybe a drink or two).
“Aren’t you going to pack, son?” I asked Cain on my way into the hall.
“I haven’t unpacked anything, so I don’t need to pack. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He got up, stretched, and headed towards the door in our wake. Myra and I tossed the few things we’d unpacked into our bags, and looked around the room to make sure we hadn’t forgotten any random firearms before we headed down to the car. She looked pensive, so I gave her a quick hug before we left the room.
“It’s almost over, isn’t it?” She asked, her face buried in my chest. That made her a little hard to hear, but it was worth it.
“Almost.”
“What will you do?”
“What do you mean? My Choice? I don’t even know what it is, so I have no idea what I’ll do.”
“No. I mean after. What will you do after it’s done. Are you going to leave me again?” She held me tighter, but I didn’t think her squeezing me caused the tightness in my chest.
“I don’t know, babe. I…”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I’ve seen you thinking about it. I can see it whenever you look at me when we’re driving. When you think I don’t notice you looking. I can feel your eyes on me and I know you’re trying to decide if you’re sticking around or if you’re going to run again.”
“You’re right. I have thought about it. A lot. And I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been putting off making that decision until this whole thing was behind us. And who knows? The kid might decide to blow up the planet and we won’t have to worry about it. We are going to DC after all. If there’s any place a slightly crazy right-wing preacher can get his hands on nuclear weapons, it’s Washington.”
“Or Tehran.”
“Yeah, there’s always Tehran. But the jet lag is such a bitch. DC is a better choice.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go finish saving the world. But we’re not done with this, buster. As soon as the world is safe, we’re going to have a long conversation about our future.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissed me lightly on the lips, and headed for the elevator. I watched her walk, both because the view was nice and because I was thinking about that conversation. And how I was gonna get out of that one without actually blowing up the world. Because that option was looking better all the time.
We gathered downstairs, and Michael met us in the hotel lobby. “I will not be accompanying you on this leg of your journey. I must go ahead and prepare the meeting place. Lucypher and I will meet you at the Washington Monument at midnight tomorrow night. Packing was a good idea, you should be able to make it there easily if you leave now.”
“Hey! It’s not that far to DC. If we don’t need to be there until midnight tomorrow night, why are we leaving now?” I was getting a little grumpy about not having the chance to spend a little happy fun time with Myra before the end of the world.
“I’ve seen how long it takes you people to get anywhere, and I assume that Eve will have to start at least one barroom brawl before you can get through Tennessee and Virginia.” Michael responded dryly.
“Nah. I think I’m good for a few days. Thanks for thinking of me, though.” Eve said dryly.
“Besides, I said I would be leaving immediately. I never mentioned you coming with me. That was your own erroneous assumption. If I were you, I would try to salvage some sleep out of this wretched evening and leave in the morning. I will see you there.” With that, he vanished. Not walked out and flew away, just vanished. Sometimes I wondered who was more irritating, my smartass kids, or smartass angels. I stood there looking stupid for a minute with my bag in my hand before I noticed that Cain was sitting on one of the lobby couches, no bag anywhere in sight.
“You knew?” I asked very slowly.
“I noticed that he didn’t mention us going, so I figured there was no reason to rush.”
“And you didn’t think you should share that with the rest of us?”
“You guys were so happy running around like chickens with your heads cut off, I didn’t want to screw that up.” He sat there and chuckled at us as the rest of us dragged our bags back to the elevators and up to the rooms. That’s when I realized we had a little monkey wrench in the works. One with tattoos and a pierced lip.
“Uh, Junior?”
“Yes, Adam?”
“Uh, we don’t really have a room for you, I don’t think. I mean, we had a spot for Michael, but he doesn’t really sleep, so I’m not sure we have two beds in Cain’s room, so I don’t really know what we’re going to do about that. It’s really late and the desk clerk is already a little grumpy with me, you know the whole breaking into the pool, flying Seraphim and shotgun blasts in the middle of the night thing…” I trailed off lamely.
“Don’t worry, Pop. We’ve got it covered.” Cain chimed in.
“How?”
“Don’t ask silly questions, Adam. Now why don’t you and Myra toddle off to bed while Cain and I deal with sleeping arrangements for the children, I mean for Sidney.” I never trusted Eve when she was being solicitous, but Myra had a certain look in her eye at Eve’s offer that I didn’t want to ignore, especially if we were blowing the world up in 21 hours or so. So I did as Eve suggested, ignored the winks that were exchanged between Eve, Myra and Emily, and took my girlfriend to bed.
by john | Jul 20, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
If you’re reading this via the RSS feed, don’t forget to click through to the main site and pick up your signed copy of my collection of short stories and poems, Returning the Favor and other Slices of Life.
I opened my eyes a second later and Lucky was still sitting there, calm as could be, with a little grin twitching the corner of his mouth. He stood, turned slowly around, and reached out to Eve, snatching the shotgun from her hands like you’d take a lollipop from a toddler. Then he wrapped both arms around her and picked her up, twirling her around and laughing like they’d just been reintroduced at a party.
“Oh, Eve, I have missed you! No one since the Garden has had such a fire! I am sorry I haven’t called on you since then, but I’ve been dreadfully busy. You know, wars to starts, pestilence to spread, famine to sow, death to deal, and all that awful pale-horse Revelation garbage. But it’s good to see you, and I promise to come chat with you and little Cain in a few moments, once I’m done talking to the boys here.” With that, he spun a shocked Eve around, patted her on the butt, and shoved her over to where Cain and the other women were standing staring at us.
“Yeah. About that, Lucky. We might want to move this conversation inside. After all, you did just have a giant frigging glowing angel fly off over the pool, and Eve just shot you. Those things tend to attract attention these days. So why don’t we all adjourn to my room, and you can tell everybody what you’ve got to say to me and Junior?” I picked up the bag of beer, grabbed Junior by an arm, and started making my way into the hotel.
“Probably a good idea, Adam. The local constabulary may be making an appearance soon, and it’s probably better if I’m not seen. Something about a bar fire earlier this evening…” He followed us into the hotel, and I stood waiting for the elevator with the Prince of Darkness and a twenty-something tattooed redneck street preacher who was supposed to save the world. If he could keep his eyes off my daughter’s tits long enough to do it.
When we got to the room, Lucky led Junior inside, grabbed the bag of beer, and shoved me backwards out into the hall, shutting the door firmly in my face. I hammered on the door for a minute, but Lucky just called out a few profanities and I finally gave up. I walked down the hall to the room Eve was sharing with Emily, and knocked on the door. They let me in after a second, and I joined Eve, Emily, Myra and Cain in the small room. It was more than a little cramped in there with just a couple of beds and one chair, but we all managed to find someplace more or less comfortable.
After a long moment Emily piped up. “What do you think he’ll do to Sidney?”
“Nothing.” I replied. “If he wanted to hurt the kid there are a lot better ways, sneakier ways that won’t get him in deep shit with Father. My guess is he’s telling the truth, that he just wants to talk to the kid. He’s probably got a lot riding on whatever Choice the kid makes, and he’s looking for an edge.”
“You actually think he’s telling the truth? He’s the Father of Lies? His name is synonymous with deception and misdirection? What makes you think that he’s telling the truth?” Myra asked incredulously.
“Because it’s what we don’t expect. I’ve seen him use this trick before. He tells you the truth when you expect him to lie, and then he can lie with more impunity when it suits his purposes.” I said. “He’ll probably keep the kid in there for a while, make friends with him, fill his head full of just enough truth to confuse him, and send him back to us thinking that Lucky’s just a guy who’s gotten a bad rap in history.”
“Yeah, he’s a fuckin’ prince.” Eve muttered.
“Yeah. Look, babe, I’m not exactly a fan, either, but I can’t kick his ass and you can’t shoot him, so we’re kinda stuck right now.” I was getting a little frustrated, and Lucky had all the beer, so I headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Myra sounded frightened as I reached for the handle. “You’re not going after him, are you?”
“Nah, I know better. I’m gonna go get some ice and a soda from the vending machine. Anybody else want anything?”
“I’ll go with.” Emily hopped up and stood beside me. We got out into the hallway and she looked up at me. “Now tell me straight, what do you think Luke, er, Lucky is doing with Sidney?”
Crap. She had it bad. “I really don’t think he’s going to hurt him. If he’s supposed to make a Choice I don’t think Lucky can hurt him, or everything goes all screwy. I mean, he’s capable, but I don’t think he’s allowed. And there are some rules that even Lucky won’t break. Don’t sweat it, honey, Junior’s gonna be fine.”
“If you say so.” But she still sounded a little dubious.
“Don’t sweat it. You don’t get to be this old without being a decent judge of character.” I tried to sound cavalier, but I don’t know if I pulled it off.
“You got to be that old because you’re immortal, not because you’re a good judge of character.” She pointed out. Smartass kids.
“Yeah, if I was, I probably wouldn’t have ended up hanging with all those Mongolians back when Genghis Khan was running roughshod over most of Asia. I just thought he wanted to ride around and party. Who was I to know he wanted world domination? My Mongolian was never that good anyway.” That at least got a giggle out of her, and we took our ice bucket and armful of soda cans back to the room. We were there for another hour or so before there was a knock on the door and Sid came in, looking awfully pale beneath his tattoos.
Emily leapt to her feet and rushed over to the kid, ushering him to a seat on the bed. I got up and out of the way, as did her mom. Cain tossed him a soda while Eve looked down the hall to see if she could catch any glimpse on Lucky’s location. I kept an eye on her, hoping she wasn’t going to try and put another slug into the fallen angel. Eve’s never been known for restraint, and sometimes it seems like her motto is “if at first you don’t succeed, shoot it again.” I didn’t need the attention, or the redecorating bill on my credit card. You’d be amazed how hard it is to keep a good credit rating when you don’t officially exist.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Emily asked.
“I’m fine. We just talked. Well, he talked. I listened.” Sid replied.
“What did he have to say?” I asked. “Remember, junior, deception is kinda his whole gig.”
“He talked about a lot of things. A lot about my Choice, and what was going to happen depending on what I Choose.”
“Did he happen to mention where you’re supposed to make this Choice, because we’re kinda flying blind right now.” Cain asked from the chair.
“Washington.” Michael pushed his way past Eve and into the room. “The Choice shall be made in Washington, DC. I will be leaving immediately.” The angel looked pissed, so I didn’t even bother with my standard snarky comments.
I just nodded to Myra, grabbed my room key from Junior and we headed to our room to pack. Emily and Eve started tossing things into a bag, and I glanced over at Cain, who was still sitting in the chair watching all the action.
by john | Jul 17, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
“Hello, Lucky.”
“Hello Adam. Hello, Sidney.” He looked for all the world like something out of a Hemingway novel, all white linen suit and Panama hat. The sunglasses were there, of course, the sunglasses were always there.
“What are you doing here, Lucky? And isn’t Michael going to have some objection to your being here?” I asked, looking around to see if the archangel had clued in that his eternal adversary had joined our little pool party.
“I’m here to meet young Sidney, of course. And I could care less what that self-important ass objects to. Hello, Sidney. Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m…” I was probably going to fall into the pool and drown myself laughing if he said anything about wealth and taste, but that was the moment that Michael took note of our new addition.
“LUCYPHER!!!!” He bellowed, rising straight out of the pool like a missile from a submarine. His benign human guise vanished in a thought, and what we got was a whole lot of pissed off archangel, charging across the top of the water at Lucky swinging a six-foot long flaming sword. I shoved Junior into the pool and dove in after him, swimming as fast as we could to get away from the coming scuffle.
If you’re never seen an angel in their natural form, then it’s a little hard to explain. But since I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen one, I’ll give it my best shot. Think a glowing blue-white Shaq, only bigger. A lot bigger. Like seven and a half or eight feet tall. Bald, a little like the blue guy from the Watchmen movie, only bigger, and without genitalia. Leave me alone, it’s the kinda thing you’re gonna
notice. There are wings, and they are huge. Humans can stretch out their arms and the distance from fingertip to fingertip equals their height, within an inch or so. When angels stretch out their wings, the distance from wingtip to wingtip is more like ten or twelve feet. So now picture a glowing eight foot tall Shaq with a 12’ wingspan running across the surface of a swimming pool swinging a sword that would give Braveheart a little twinge in his kilt, if you get my drift. I think you can see why we dove for cover, literally.
To his credit, if Lucky had veins, there was ice water in them, because he didn’t flinch in the face of the Angelic Express about to run him down. He just stood there patiently, and when Michael got close, he did some kind of judo/ninja thing and suddenly Michael was flying across the parking lot. The wings helped him control his descent, and he made the turn before he crashed through anything important, like our car, the front of the hotel, a random fence or two, anything like that. As Michael wheeled around and flew back at Lucky for another shot, Lucky unfurled wings of his own and took to the sky.
“Is this the place, then?” He asked, stopping Michael cold in midair with one sentence.
“Why are you here?” replied a very pissed off angel.
“I wish to speak with the Chosen. Do you then change the terms of our meeting?” Lucky persisted.
“You must leave.” Said Michael.
“We agreed that I could speak with the Chosen as often as I desire until the Choice is made. Do you break the terms of our agreement? Shall we finish this now?” I wasn’t sure what Lucky was talking about, but the formality in his tone led me to believe that this was a pretty big deal.
“I do not. Our agreement stands.” Michael said through clenched teeth.
“Then leave me to talk with the Chosen. As is my right.” With that, Lucky proved that he was either incredibly brave or had a lot of faith in Michael’s word, because he turned his back on the sword-wielding giant glowing guy and glided down to where Junior and I were pulling ourselves out of the pool. Michael let out a low growl of frustration and flew straight up until he vanished from sight. I was pretty sure there were going to be some cell phone calls to the National Enquirer around Nashville that evening. I stepped between Lucky and the kid, who was trying to look brave but only managing to look like a very wet, very scared skinny kid with a face full of hardware and expensive ink on his arms.
“Lucky, what do you want with the kid? I’m not gonna let you hurt him.” I wasn’t feeling too secure in my own ability to stop him, but I figured it was worth a shot. It worked about as well as expected. Lucky laughed as he landed on the edge of the pool and came over to us. He reached into the bag of beer, popped the top on a PBR, and tossed one to me as he sat down on one of the pool loungers.
“Sit down, Adam. We both know you can’t hurt me, and if I wanted to hurt you, I’d find much more interesting ways of doing it than just kicking your ass all over the parking lot. I want to talk to Sidney here, and you might as well hear this as well.” I sat. He was right, and I knew it. And he knew I knew it, so there wasn’t a whole lot of point in trying to act all tough against the First of the Fallen.
“What was all that about?” I asked, waving my hand in the general direction of the pool.
“That? Oh. Well, Michael and I have had a disagreement for a long time, and before too long, we’re going to find out which one of us was right. And he gets to be the one to set the place for our final duel. I just asked him if he wanted it to be here. He decided against it.” Just as I was about to demand more details, I saw a shadow move across the water, and I looked up.
“Eve, No!” I got the words out, but not in time as Eve came up behind Lucky with a sawed-off shotgun and shot him square in the back. The sound was enormous, and I shut my eyes against the muzzle flash and any Lucky-bits that happened to spray on my face.
by john | Jul 15, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
“Penny for ‘em, kid.” I said as I sat down. He took a long minute to gather his thoughts, and then it all started to flow.
“What if I screw it up? I mean, I’ve spent so much of my life as a punk kid, getting all pierced and tatted up to try and be different. And now you guys come along and say that I am different, but that it doesn’t have anything to do with how I look, or with the fact that I like punk music and still believe the Bible, or any of that. That I matter just because I’m me. That kinda makes me think my whole life is a waste, you know. I’ve spent all this time inventing myself, and now you guys tell me that fate of the world is in my hands, and it’s got nothing to do with any of the stuff I’ve tried to become.” He looked almost anguished, and I guess I could understand. It couldn’t have been easy being different in the South growing up.
“I dunno, kid. All that stuff you did probably has more to do with you being Chosen than we’ll ever know. Well, any of us except for Michael, who kinda has the hotline to the Father. But he ain’t talkin’. So you gotta think that everything you went through went into making you who you are. All the decisions you made and all the ones that people around you made, those are all part of what make you unique. So without any of that stuff, you’d just be another funny-looking street preacher getting your ass kicked in bars. If that helps at all.”
“It does. Thanks. But how will I know when it’s time to Choose? And how will I make the right decision?”
“I don’t have a single idea. But if you come up with the answers, will you let me know?”
“Why?”
“Seems you’re not the only one with a Choice coming up, Junior. I’m not just chaperoning this ride because I’m older than everybody else. Apparently my time as the observer is about over, and I’m gonna have to make a Choice of my own. And I don’t know a damn thing more about it than you do.”
“But what about the last time?”
“What last time?”
“When you chose to take the fruit from Eve. When you were thrown out of the Garden of Eden.”
“That was Eve’s choice, not mine. Me taking a piece of fruit from my wife was a little-C choice. She’d already been confronted with the big one, and made it.”
“Do you regret it?”
“What, getting tossed out of the Garden?”
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Every single day, kid. Every. Single. Day.”
“What was it like?”
“It was a lot like you’d expect from the stories. It was peaceful, mostly. We had plenty to do, we were raising crops and learning about the world. We were exploring our surroundings, and exploring each other. You know, doing what young people do. There were lots of animals around, and we got to play with some fairly exotic pets, but it wasn’t all sweetness and light. It’s not like we had pet lions babysitting antelopes and everybody was vegetarian. The animals still had to eat, and so did we. I killed my fair share of beasties, and it’s a lot easier now to go to the grocery store than it was to butcher a water buffalo. And when there are only a few people in the world, there’s not a lot of help to get a water buffalo onto dry land so you can butcher it in the first place. So it was nice, but the best thing was just being around the Father.”
“So you really were in direct contact with God?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, he didn’t come down and walk around in a long white robe or anything, but his Presence was always there. And if I had a question, I asked. And he answered. Now sometimes his answer was ‘you’re a bright boy, Adam, figure it out,’ but it was an answer. That’s what I miss the most, just that connection.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” We sat there in silence for a few minutes before he piped up again.
“Adam?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Cain.”
“Yeah, what about him?” I was afraid we might be heading into dangerous territory here, but I figured I owed it to the kid to let him know about the folks he was supposed to save the world with.
“Did he really murder his brother?”
“Abel? Yeah, he did. As far as we can tell, Cain actually invented murder. Not many people can claim to have their own Commandment, but my boy was always an overachiever.”
“Do you take anything seriously? I mean, he killed your son, and now you’re traveling with him. I don’t think I get that.”
“I probably don’t either to be real honest with you. But you gotta remember, in addition to having killed my son, he is my son. And I love him. That’s what being a father means, you love the little shit no matter what. I managed to forget that fact for a long time, but I’ve been reminded here recently.”
“So is he a good guy or a bad guy?”
“Yes.”
“To which?”
“Both. Look, there’s no question that Cain killed Abel. And there’s no question that it wasn’t the best thing that’s ever happened in any of our lives, but it just might be that it had to happen for a bigger reason. And I’m not gonna pretend to be smart enough to understand that reason, but after all these years, I’m not gonna ask too many questions, either.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“Okay. I guess that’ll have to do.”
“Good deal. So what’s your story, kid? What is it about you that makes you the Chosen? Are you the offspring of a Seraph and a mortal woman? Are you the Dahli Lama of Tennessee? What is it?”
“I’ve been asking myself that question ever since you picked me up off the sidewalk. I mean, I hate to question the wisdom of an angel, but do you think it’s possible that Michael may have picked the wrong guy?”
“Nah. He’s been too smug about the whole thing for him to harbor any doubts. And his intel is usually pretty good on these things.”
“Okay, then. Well I have no idea. I try to live a righteous, Christian life. Maybe that has something to do with it?”
“Can’t imagine it hurts, but it probably isn’t a big part of the process. After all, I’m not the least bit Christian, and apparently I’ve got to make a Choice soon myself.”
“You’re not a Christian? How can that be? I mean, you’re Adam, you’re right out of the Old Testament yourself. How can you not…” I cut him off there.
“Junior. Take a deep breath. Now let’s remember, I am the Old Testament. I predate Christianity by about 50 millennia, give or take a couple thousand years. I met the Carpenter. The Nazarene was a good kid, but he wasn’t the first or the last to speak that speech, so I’m not inclined to follow some hippie kid just because he says the Father loves us all. I know the true face of my Father’s love, and I know I don’t need an intermediary to get me there. All I need to do to talk to God it to talk to him. I don’t need to do it just on Sundays, or just in rooms with a lotta stained glass, or just through a mouthpiece. Now I liked the Carpenter. He did some good things, and he had a fantastic speaking voice. And I was a big fan of that water-into-wine trick. But I’m a little more old school in my religion. A little more direct, if you get my drift.”
“I never thought about that.”
“You probably never thought you’d be sitting around a swimming pool drinking beer with the main characters from Genesis, a dog-paddling archangel and a couple of waitresses from Texas, either.”
“Good point. Hey, thanks for talking to me. I was kinda freaking out a little.”
“No sweat. I’ve gotten kinda used to people freaking out lately. Including me.”
“You?”
“Yeah, me. Look, kid. I don’t really know what we’re coming up on right now, if it’s the end times, or what. But there’s a lot of new and different stuff happening, and when you’ve been around as long as I have, you some to understand that there really isn’t that much new stuff to happen. So when new things come in clumps, it’s a little disconcerting.”
“Makes sense. Now, um…I guess I’ve just got one more big question?”
“Shoot.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“You know, I have no idea.”
“Maybe I can help with that.” Shit. That was not the voice I wanted to hear.
by john | Jul 14, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
We got back to the hotel without further incident, and Eve headed across the street to the gas station to pick up a case of beer. We were all still pretty wound up over the events at the bar, so Cain picked the lock to the outdoor pool and we sat around outside drinking beer and soaking our feet in the pool for a little while to chill out after an eventful day. Junior had started to come around while in the car, and he just sat there at first with his jeans rolled up, feet soaking in the pool while the rest of us told lies about the size of the guys we beat up. Except Michael. He was sitting on one of those pool lounge chairs all by himself looking down at his hands, and then looking up at the sky like he was waiting for an answer from Father. Eventually his moping started to bring me down, so I went over to him with a fresh beer for each of us.
“Nice job today. We really could have gotten our asses kicked if you hadn’t stepped in when you did. And worse, some of the mortals might have gotten really hurt.” I started there, figuring if that wasn’t what he was moping over, he’d tell me. Turns out I got it in one. I was really starting to get a handle on this whole angelic therapy business.
“I’m not supposed to do that.”
“Do what? Keep people from getting hurt?”
“Interfere with the lives of normal people.” I laughed so hard I almost fell off my chaise at that one.
“Are you kidding me? You guys have interfered with my life almost from the beginning!”
“Yes, and you’re the reason for the rule. You and Eve. We were so involved in your lives early on that you were never really normal, so it was decided that we should remain aloof from humanity, to allow you to thrive or fail on your own.”
“Yeah, but what you did today wasn’t like that. You didn’t cause any great changes in the fabric of space and time, or whatever junk the sci-fi dorks would spew about here. You just broke up a bar fight. And none of us can die, and none of us were going to kill anybody, not even Eve. So there’s no butterfly effect going on, or any other Ashton Kutcher movie, either.” I could tell that hung him up a little, so I promised myself if he stuck around after this whole mess was over, and if I was still feeling uncharacteristically charitable towards him, that I’d sign him up for his very own Twitter account so he could be just as inanely involved with the lives of celebrities as anyone else.
“But I didn’t get involved to save lives, or to avenge a wrong. I drew upon the power of Heaven because it felt good. Nothing more. I enjoyed it, Adam. And I’m not supposed to do that. I’m supposed to remain aloof and impartial.”
“Yeah, but that’s boring.”
“What?”
“If you’ve learned anything hanging out with us the past few days, it oughta be that it’s a lot more interesting to be right in the middle of things. Living life, like it was meant to be lived. Being human, even if you’re not, is about living, not observing. Maybe the form’s getting to you a little. Maybe you’re getting some corruption by playing human so long, like an actor that can’t get out of character once the play’s over. But really, when you look at the big picture, other than some cheap bar furniture, what did we permanently damage?”
“Well, nothing, I suppose.”
“Alright then. So look, it was just another night for those guys. They’re a biker gang, Michael. They get in fights in bars. It’s what they do. It’s kinda like Eve irritating me, it’s her whole purpose in life. In a day or so they won’t even remember you Hulking out or your flaming sword. They’ll chalk it all up to too many Jagermeister shots and too many comic books on the back of the toilet. So no harm, no foul. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“So we done with the mopey angel face?” I made a goofy face like you would talking to a little kid, and the silly poof actually chuckled at me.
“You know you’re somewhat amusing at times, Adam.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure there are days when you’re not an insufferable assclown yourself.” I pulled him up and said, “Let’s get another beer.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how exactly can you drink this swill?”
“You think this is swill? Try mead sometime. At least there are no obvious rat bits in the beer anymore. I count anything without rat bits as downright palatable.” I led him over to the rest of my merry band of immortals, Chosen ones and waitresses, and we sat on the concrete with everybody else.
“What did I miss?” I asked as I popped open another Keystone Light tallboy. It looked like Eve couldn’t decide what brand of shitty domestic beer to buy, so she bought an assortment of probably three or four cases. Probably a good move on her part. This was shaping up to be the kinda night that needed a lot of fortification.
“We were just explaining our odd little family tree to Junior here. He was pretty familiar with you and me, and Cain of course, but it took a little convincing for him to understand that Emily is your daughter.” Eve said.
“Why do you all call me Junior? My name is Sidney Joseph McEwen, and there’s no Junior appended to that.” Junior asked.
“Well, kid. When we first met you said you didn’t like to be called Sid. And I’m guessing you probably don’t go by Joe or Joey, either.” I replied.
“That is correct, sir.”
“So Junior it is. Because I can’t really look at somebody with a couple of armfuls of ink and a face that can’t get through airport security because of all the metal in your head, and call you Sidney. For one thing, androgynous names bug me. And for another, guys named Sidney should all be middle-aged with pipes and leather patches on their elbows. So pick one: you can be Sid, Joe, Joey or Junior. And you need another beer.” I dug a PBR out of one of Eve’s shopping bags and tossed it to the kid. He caught it on the fly and popped the top. Good to see he’d gotten over all that “body is a temple” crap. That could make for tedious travel.
“I guess I’ll take Sid, then. It was what my mother always wanted me to be called, after all.” He took a long swig of his beer and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the night sky. Well, what of it that could be seen through the orange glow of the parking lot lights. “Is it always like this?” He asked after a minute or two of thought.
“Is what always like what?” I figured if nobody else needed elaboration, that I sure did.
“Being around you. Is it always so,” he took a minute to search for a word that fit and still wouldn’t piss me off, I guess, “exciting?”
“Nah. Usually there’s just a lot of knitting. And the occasional scintillating night of Jenga.” Eve threw that one in.
“But seriously, we don’t go into every town looking to get into bar fights,” I started.
“Speak for yourself.” Interrupted Eve. “I personally try to get into a minimum of one bar fight per ten business days. Otherwise I get cranky.”
“And how would anyone tell when you get cranky, Eve?” I asked.
“I break more people when I’m cranky, dear. Remember Egypt?” Yeah, I did. Everybody thinks it was time that knocked the nose off the Sphinx. Not so much. Eve can convince some folks to do all sorts of stupid stunts for her amusement. That one took seventy Egyptian slaves and entire night, but when she was done, the Sphinx had a moustache. That did not go over well with the current pharaoh, one of the Ramses, I think. Anyway, long story.
“Anyway. Look, Sid. The fact of the matter is, we haven’t been together that long. Eve and I had a disagreement a few years ago and we haven’t seen much of each other until a few days ago. The same could be said for Cain and me, and I kinda bailed on Myra before Emily was born. So we really haven’t spent a whole lot of time together. So, uh, welcome to the party.” I finished kinda lamely and went into Eve’s shopping bag for another beer.
“So, Sid. What’s your mother like?” Emily to the rescue. I was really starting to like having that kid around.
“Well, you know, she’s an ordinary mom, I guess. She works most days, watches reality TV most nights. She and some friends from work do a girls’ night out thing a couple Fridays a month, and every once in a while she dates. Nothing too serious, I guess. I try to get by her place on Sundays for supper, but something tells me I’m probably gonna miss this week.”
“Good call, kid.” Cain said around the mouth of his beer bottle.
“So what am I supposed to do? I mean, you said something about a Choice, but I don’t think I really understood exactly what I was supposed to do.” The kid looked like he had finally gotten it out, what he had wanted to ask all night. Too bad I didn’t have any answers for him. I looked over at Eve, thinking if I could, I’d defer to the one who’d actually made a Choice, but it was Cain that chimed in.
“We don’t know yet. You never know the moment of your Choice until it’s upon you. I didn’t really realize that mine had happened until it was all over, and by then it was too late to overthink. That’s when it works out well, I guess. When you don’t overthink it.”
“Yeah. It’s one of those things that comes on you and you just make a decision. If it’s really a capital-C Choice, then you’ll probably get a glimpse of the future behind both options, and then you’ll make up your mind. There will be a representative of both sides there, they’ll each plead their case, and you’ll Choose. And the world will live with the consequences.” Eve finished her explanation, which was more than I’d ever heard her talk about her decision to take the Fruit, and polished off the last of her beer. “And with that, I’m going swimming. Anybody with me?” She pulled off her jeans and jumped in the pool in her t-shirt and panties. The water felt good splashing over me, but I was too lost in thought about what she and Cain had said to really enjoy it.
“I didn’t bring a suit.” Protested Emily, but then she skinned off her jeans and dove in just like Eve. Myra followed soon after, then Cain. So I was left there with the Chosen one and the archangel as my family and girlfriend swam around.
“Why aren’t you in there, Michael?” I asked.
“I, um, I don’t know how to swim.” The angel admitted sheepishly. I guffawed at this, then thought about it for a second. He hadn’t had a physical form for very long, so he’d never needed to learn how to swim. It made a kind of sense, if you thought about it. I didn’t think about it for very long, just stood up, walked over to him, and shoved him into the pool. He spluttered, then came up shaking water out of his face.
“No time like the present to learn, Mikey. Enjoy.” Since I knew he couldn’t drown, I left him to figure out the doggy paddle on his own and walked back to sit next to Sid.
by john | Jul 10, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen
By far the longest section I’ve uploaded at one time, but I didn’t want to put a break in the middle of a good bar fight.
“Em, I want you and Junior to stay here. Keep the engine running and if we come out in a hurry, get us out of here pronto.” I said as I pulled into the lot and parked with the nose of the Civic pointed toward the road.
“No dice, Pop. I’m going in there with you.” She said, getting out of the car as soon as I put it in park.
“No way, kid. This could get ugly…”
“And if it does, you’re gonna need every pair of hands you can get. I’ve been in a few ugly bar fights in my day, and I know how to handle myself. I’ll make sure to get out of the way if things get too out of hand, but I’m coming with you.” I knew the look in her eye; I’d seen it in Myra’s eyes when she announced that she was coming with us on this little journey.
I figured there was no sense trying to persuade her, so I just said, “You still got your backup?”
“Yup.”
“Alright. Here’s the plan. Junior, you stay close to the door with the keys in your hand. Keep your head down and get your ass in the driver’s seat if we make a run for it. Michael, you stay on my left side and if we need that big fiery toothpick of yours, don’t waste any time making it appear.”
“Why am I to be on your left, Adam?” I had to give the angel credit, he didn’t protest, just went for the tactical questions.
“I’m right-handed, so I wanna make sure to keep that side clear if I need to do anything.” I reached into the trunk of the Civic and slid Cain’s piston into the back of my jeans, and pulled on a light jacket to hide the gun. I really hoped I didn’t have to use it, but it wouldn’t be the first time if it came to that. I looked around at my posse: a twenty-something waitress, a tattooed and pierced street preacher, and an archangel getting ready to storm a biker bar in Tennessee with the oldest man on the planet. This had to be the most fucked up rescue effort in history.
The bar was darker inside than I expected, and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the smoky gloom, even though it was night outside. We made our way over to a corner table where Cain, Eve and Myra sat warily watching the rest of the bar’s occupants.
“Hey kids, what’s up?” I asked as I pulled up a chair. I sat on Cain’s left elbow, with my chair turned around so I was leaning on the back of the chair. This gave me a good view of most of the bar and gave me something at hand to throw in a hurry if it came to that.
“Hey, Pop. How’s life?” Cain and I bumped fists, and after the waitress took our drink orders (tequila shots and beers all around, the only way to go into potential combat) he leaned over and said in a low voice “The big bald guy came on to Mom when she was picking songs at the jukebox. She was a little, um, enthusiastic in her rebuff.”
I put my head in my hands and asked “What did she do?”
Eve piped up with “Nothing! Well, not much, anyway. I slapped his face a little, and that was no big deal. He laughed, and his buddies laughed at him, and I laughed an it was all good.”
“Then why the panicked phone call?” I asked Myra.
“I wasn’t panicked. I was simply…concerned. But it wasn’t over that.” She said.
“What happened next?” I asked.
“He kinda didn’t take the hint. And then he kinda grabbed me. And I might have kneed him in the balls a little.” I groaned a bit, and then looked over at Cain.
“And you had to get involved at this point, right?” I asked him.
“Well, when he got to his feet he was pretty pissed. And his buddies were really giving him shit, and he looked like he was gonna take a swing at Mom, so I might have stepped in.” He at least looked chagrined about the whole mess.
“So at this point you’ve decked the behemoth, Cain has defended your virtue, and all is right with the world. So would you mind telling me why in the seven hells you’re still here?” I will admit to getting a little irritated, but I really wasn’t looking forward to getting punched. Immortal does not equate to having no pain receptors.
“My songs aren’t through yet.” I looked at her incredulously, and she calmly went on “I paid three bucks for six songs on the jukebox, and they aren’t done yet. I told Myra to give you a call and tell you to meet us here for a couple of drinks, I can’t imagine those idiots are going to cause me any more trouble tonight.” That might have been the most ludicrously contrary thing I’d heard in a couple of centuries. And it was 100% pure Eve.
“So you just wanted us to come over and have a drinky-drink while your songs played out on the jukebox, and if a bar fight happened to break out, all the better?” I’ll further admit to snide to go with my irritated, but the two so often go hand in hand.
“Pretty much. You must be the Chosen. Good luck with that. I’d drink more, if I were you. And once upon a time, I was.You, that is. I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Eve.” Eve held out her hand to Junior, who took it wordlessly. I think the whole scene might have been a little much for him. It was a little much for me, too, and it didn’t look like it was going to get any better when four mammoth bikers lurched over to our table, including the mountain of flesh and jailhouse ink that Eve said she kicked in the balls. My night was getting better and better.
“Hey.” The biggest one said as they stood in front of our table. He was at least 6’4” and 300 lbs. if he was an ounce. He looked like a refugee from a ZZ Top video, if there was a video where some monster ate all the members of ZZ Top and wandered around with their beards. His gut was barely constrained by a Harley-Davidson t-shirt, and he wore a black leather vest. All of them wore matching vest. Great, they were sporting colors. And my mood continued to improve. I didn’t see any indications of firearms, but most of them had long hunting knives at their sides. I really hate getting stabbed. Aside from the pain and bleeding, it puts big holes in my shirts.
“Hey.” I said. I didn’t stand, just sat there and looked at him.
“She your old lady?” He pointed at Eve.
“Not so much these days, but she used to be. Why, you want a date?”
He let out a laugh, making his massive belly shake not so much like a bowl full of jelly but more like a jell-o mold full of cottage cheese. “No. I wouldn’t touch her with Tiny’s dick and Spider pushing. But she needs to learn some manners.”
Tiny? Spider? Where do they get these names, out of a book? “I’ve been telling her the same thing for longer than I can remember. If you want to try, go right ahead. But I hear one of your boys already gave that a shot and it didn’t work out so well.”
“Yeah, and Tiny wants an apology.” He jerked a thumb at the one he called Tiny, and in a stunning fit of originality and irony, Tiny was the biggest son of a bitch I think I’d ever seen outside of professional sports. He was half a head taller than ZZ, whose name I’d never gotten, and if he could walk through a door without turning sideways, it was only because it was a double door. I could only imagine the pain and suffering his engineer boots endured with his every step.
“Well, tell Tiny to get in line, because there’s a lot of people looking for apologies from that one, and they’ve all been disappointed for a long time.” I said.
“Not from her. We got no hard feelings towards her. Tiny’s been insulted by him.” And he pointed at Cain. Shit. I probably could have talked them out of a beef with Eve, but this was probably going to lead to someone getting hurt.
“What did he do?” I asked before I could even think.
“He put a knife in Tiny’s face and said some nasty things about Tiny. You don’t get to pull a knife on an Outlaw in our bar and just walk out. That just don’t happen.”
“I understand. This shouldn’t have happened. Cain, apologize.”
“I’m sorry, Tiny.”
There. We good? Cain’s apologized, Tiny feels better, and we can all just have another round, right? “ I motioned for the bartender to set everybody up with another round.
“It ain’t that simple.” Of course it wasn’t.
“Why not?” I might as well keep playing ignorant, as long as I could try and keep everybody’s blood on the inside.
“Tiny’s been insulted. His manhood has done been questioned. And that just don’t happen. Your boy here is gonna have to take a beat down for that.”
“Well, then we have a problem.” I stood up at that point, and Cain, Michael and Eve stood with me. Emily moved Junior and Myra over closer to the door, and I thought I saw her reach up her sleeve for something that might have been shiny.
“I guess we probably do, don’t we?” Mammoth replied, and I gripped the neck of the beer bottle in front of me. But before I could step forward and swing, I heard a thump beside me and looked over to see Junior on his knees, reciting a Psalm.
“ThelordismyshepherdIshallnotwant.Hemakethmetoliedowningreenpastures” he recited quickly, and in the second I gave him my attention, Mammoth stepped up and cracked a fist the size of a Honey Baked Ham across my jaw. I spun around and found my face oddly pressed up against the wall of the bar. I leaned there for half a second before I realized that was what was holding me up, and I pushed off the wall into the fray.
And in that half a second, a melee had erupted. Eve produced the fat end of a pool cue from somewhere, probably that big damn bag she carried everywhere, and laid into Tiny, obviously deciding that he was her bitch du jour. Michael was being soundly pummeled by the other one, I suppose he was Spider, because he had black spider tattoos on the backs of both hands. It made for an interesting picture as one spidered hand was wrapped around Michael’s throat pinning him to the wall while the other spider bounced off his face again and again.
Cain had grabbed a pair of bottles off the table and beaned Mammoth with both of them after he sucker-punched me. Then he actually jumped onto the table for a second, which proved to be a poor choice when the center pillar of the table toppled, taking him to the floor with Mammoth underneath him. He just kept waling on the biker as they went down. I looked around, saw that I didn’t have anybody to hit for a second, and yelled at Emily “Get Junior and your mom outta here!”
She didn’t wait, grabbing Junior by the collar and yanking him to his feet. She shoved Myra and Sidney towards the door, and stepped in front of them to punt one of the bouncers square in the nuts when he made to stop their exit. Eve took a second from bludgeoning Tiny to throw her truck keys to Myra. “Get both cars running!” I shouted as I picked up the chair I’d been sitting in. I cleared my throat to get Spider’s attention, and when he took a second from pounding Michael’s face into tapioca, I broke the chair into splinters across his head.
He fell backwards almost in slow motion, taking out another table as he toppled like a redwood. Michael slumped to the floor, and I could almost see the little birds circling his head. It would have been a lot funnier if I hadn’t looked up just then to see a half-dozen more thugs heading our way, along with a pissed-looking bartender swinging a baseball bat. I thought for a second about pulling the pistol, but since none of them had done anything worse than a little bludgeoning so far, I figured I didn’t need to escalate things. After all, they couldn’t really do any lasting damage to any of the four of us, so it wasn’t worth it to me to kill anybody over a little bar scuffle.
Until four of them came back into the bar with Emily, Myra and Junior in tow. Junior was tossed over one guy’s shoulder unconscious, and it took two of them to hold Emily back. But when I saw Myra with a bloody lip, I kinda went nuts. Not Wolverine slashing people to pieces nuts, but close. I went straight at the four of them, and that didn’t go well for the guy who got in my way. I just kinda grabbed him by the neck and walked through him, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t thinking too clearly, and I just know that one minute he was in front of me, and the next I had stepped on his chest on my way to the door. I pulled up in front of the one holding Myra, and he let her go.
Emily broke free of the guys holding her and helped her mother into a chair. The fourth one put Junior down face-first on a table, and then I had four of them, all to myself. This might be fun after all.
“Which one of you hit her?” I pointed to Myra.
“Me. What you gonna do about it?” He was about 5’11, maybe 180 pounds and looked like the type to hit girls and bash bigger guys over the head from behind. He had a patchy beard and close-cropped hair that needed a wash.
“I’m gonna save you for last.” With that I swung at the one on my left, catching him full in the nose and completely by surprise. There’s a lot to be said for martial arts and flashy kicks and throws, but at the end of the day, if you break a guy’s nose, he’s out of action for the next few minutes, at least. The guy dropped like a sack of wet concrete, and I ducked as one of his buddies threw a big roundhouse punch at my ear. When I dropped to one knee, I was at eye level with his belt buckle, so I grabbed it and put my shoulder in his gut as I stood up, taking the guy up onto my shoulder. I spun him around a few times to clear some space and then backed up fast into the nearest wall. That mashed his head between my back and the wall, and he stopped struggling. I tipped his feet backwards over my shoulder, and he went down with a thump.
I looked over for the third guy, but he had all he could handle with Emily, who apparently carried pepper spray in her purse. It looked like it hurt when she got him in the face, but she’d obviously learned more hanging around the Prince of Darkness than just cards, because when the thug opened his mouth to scream, she squirted another shot right in his mouth. He clawed his way to the door with one hand on his mouth and another over his eyes, and I turned my attention to the little shit who’d decked my girlfriend.
He was wearing a wife-beater and no vest, so I knew he was just a hanger-on, a wannabe. Good. I didn’t want to take on the whole bar if I broke the little bastard, and that was kinda where my mind was headed right then. I reached out and grabbed him by the straps on his tank top and pulled him into me. When his face was just a couple inches away from mine I said in a low voice, “Tell me if this hurts.”
Then I kneed him in the balls as hard as I could. As he doubled over I grabbed both ears and rammed his face into my knee, and then pulled him upright by his ears again. I took his chin in my left hand and reared back with my right to tee off on his jaw with a huge haymaker when I heard a huge crash from behind me.
“ENOUGH!” The Voice came from where I’d left Michael, but it didn’t sound anything like the meek Archangel I knew and usually wanted to run through a wood chipper. Instead, this was the Voice that commanded the armies of Heaven in the war against Lucypher. This was the Voice that meted out God’s own Justice across the land. This was the Voice that almost made me wet myself.
I turned, slowly, and looked to where the Voice was coming from, and it was Michael. Well, to say it was Michael is kinda like saying that The Hulk was Bruce Banner, like Superman was Clark Kent. It was The Archangel Michael, which bore about as much resemblance to the thin, fair-skinned little man that had gotten his face pummeled in a few seconds ago as I did to Arnold Schwarzenegger. He was in full-on War Seraph mode, with 9’ of angelic wing spread across the bar. He was almost 7’ tall, and had ripped most of his clothes when he expanded, adding to the Hulk metaphor. Gone was the mild-mannered little humanoid, and in his place stood the Sword of Heaven. Oh yeah, and the sword wasn’t just a title, he held a 5’ long two-handed sword that was rimmed with white fire. I don’t know if it was hot, but it definitely had shattered the table that was in front of him, because it lay on the floor in a dozen or more pieces. Michael had apparently tired of the ruckus, and he had decided to lay down the law.
Nobody moved for a long moment as the immortal humans looked at the angel, the bikers looked at us, and Emily looked at Junior’s bloody nose. Michael cast his gaze across the mute assemblage and said, “Good. Now that you’re done making such an awful racket, would it be possible for my companions and I to leave?”
No one said a word, but anyone standing or lying anywhere near the door opened a wide path. Michael looked around again and said, “Good. I assume there will be no problem with the bill? Excellent. Have a splendid evening.” With that, his sword vanished, his wings folded into nothingness, and he was once again the nattily dressed British poof that came upon me outside of Myra’s restaurant. He started towards the door, collecting Junior, Emily and Myra along the way. He stopped just before the door and looked back at me, Cain and Eve.
“Coming, children?” He asked, like a disappointed teacher. Cain and I let go of the guys we were about to pound on and headed for the door. Eve took one last regretful look around, as if she could see in her mind’s eye all the pretty mayhem that Michael was putting a halt to, then she gave one last clout to the guy she’d been pounding, put the pool cue back in her voluminous shoulder bag, and followed us out into the night.
