Chapter 13
“It has been my experience that folks who have no vices also have very few virtues.” - Abraham Lincoln
Trench coated people began parting and moving towards the door of the club as Matthews’ group headed for the Angels table. Several of the trench coats stopped at various tables, whispering in the ears of patrons. The music was still playing, people still drank and the dance floor was still crowded. But a thick tension began to spread through the air.
Annabeth and Mikhail appeared momentarily frustrated to see Matthew. One of Matthew’s men reached out and snatched someone by the collar, dragging them into the booth.
Groups within the club began to shift, moving from tables and positioning themselves for a fight or to get out quickly. There had to be five hundred people crowded in here, if this place went up it was going to be bad.
“Jeff, maybe we should go put a circle down outside.” I suggested in Jeff’s ear.
“I’ll go get that started, you get the others. Warn Phineas.” Jeff headed for the door. I began threading my way back to the table.
“The Necromance returns…” Phineas announced, smiling conspiratorially when I approached the table. “What trouble have you started for us now?”
“Jeff is putting a circle down outside the club, we need to leave now.” I said, ignoring Phineas’ comments. “He asked that I tell you that the Angels and the Demon Touched are about to throw down.”
“Maybe you should just have a seat,” he said, patting a chair next to him, “and keep your head down.”
Phineas leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingertips. He uttered what sounded like a cross between a prayer and an obscene oath. He dropped his now glowing crucifix beneath his shirt.
Jill and Suzanne picked up on Phineas’ air of panic and looked around surreptitiously.
“We need to go now.” I said, why weren’t they listening to me?
“Sit Down!” Phineas ordered me sharply, in a low voice. “You are making us stand out.”
I lowered myself into the closest seat, not right next to Phineas. I had to turn slightly to see the front door, which I did slowly. My skin crawled with energy as I expected to be struck or yanked out of my chair at any moment.
“Girls, pull up some chairs here.” Phineas snapped his fingers, but didn’t speak above a whisper.
About six women from all over this back area of the club sat as close to Phineas as they could. They all appeared to be deep in conversation with Phineas, but I could see that they were putting on jackets and shawls to cover cleavage or bright colors. A few of them let their long hair down to cover their faces.
Phineas brought out a handful of herbs and powders that he dropped into the large glass ashtray in the center of the table. He placed his smoldering cigar into the small pile, setting it alight. Then he brought out a small flask of perfumed liquid and shook it all around the area. A few of the drops landed on my shirt.
I could see the misty lines forming behind Phineas. They began to swirl all around the table, in between all of us.
“What are you doing Phineas?” I asked, “Suzanne, can you see them?”
“I see them. They’re beautiful.” Suzanne said, obviously in a state of awe.
As I tracked one of the shapes flowing behind Jill I noticed that people at the tables next to us were watching something at the door. With dread I turned in my seat to see what held their attention.
Richard and his two meaty thugs were looking right at us, a golden flash smoldering in his eyes.
“Ladies, go out the back and find Jeff.” Phineas quickly ordered us. Several of his women got up and headed for the back door.
Jill, Suzanne and I looked at each other.
“You don’t have anything on you that will stop Richard. Please, just leave while you can.” Phineas made the decision for us.
We all got up. I decided to follow Jill and Suzanne, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we would all make it.
I gasped as I stared right into the golden, leering eyes of Richard. Damn, he was fast.
“You still owe me Phineas.” His voice had changed cadence and vocabulary. “Perhaps I’ll take this one as partial payment.”
His two underlings chuckled darkly. I didn’t care for the implications.
“If you think that you can, Richard.” Phineas challenged. “Besides, she doesn’t belong to me.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“What else do you want, Richard?” Phineas was negotiating now, apparently putting me on my own.
“I think it is time you began pulling your weight with us. We have left you free to operate for far too long. Your women will begin distributing Sight for us immediately, starting with this one.” He said, reaching for my shoulder.
I tried to step back, but I was pinned between the table and Richard. He pulled me up on tiptoe and tilted my head back so I could look him in the eye.
“None of my clients have any use for Sight, Richard.” Phineas announced simply.
“You have just taken on new clients. Stop calling me that, you are ruining my concentration.” Not-Richard growled out, returning his vision to me.
“Who’d you sell your soul to Richard?” I called out loudly, “Or did you give permission to this thing to ride you?”
Not-Richard paused, looking at me quizzically. He looked over at Phineas but I couldn’t be sure what he saw. Hoping to see an Angel coming to the rescue, I panned the crowd behind Richard. Matthew and his goon squad were hustling Annabeth and Mikhail out the door. Annabeth tossed me a smirk before she went out shaking her head.
“Oh, this one will be a lot of fun won’t she? I think we’ll keep her as an example to the rest of your whores. When we finish with her we’ll send her back to you.” Richard said in an evil voice, smiling at me for all the world like a kindly Uncle. “She will of course, be expected to perform just as the others. No matter what she looks like.”
He shoved me at his two thugs for safekeeping as he sat down at the table, across from Phineas. One of them, with a chipped front tooth, grabbed a fistful of hair. The other, with a strange sort of pompadour, removed my gun and began patting me down for anything else of interest. Pompadour paused at my breasts, giving them a painful pinch. When I didn’t cry out, he twisted, causing me to gasp. Chipped tooth laughed softly as he ground against my backside. I was in so much trouble right now.
“Don’t worry, little whore, you won’t be entirely alone.” Richard said casually, looking at Phineas. “One of you go out back and bring in the rest of Phineas’ girls. We should probably test them out. I’d hate for them to expire too quickly the first time they have to service a Demon.”
Pompadour gave my breasts a final smack, making them jiggle.
“My pleasure.” He said as he headed for the back door.
I have found that men who exhibited a violent fascination for breasts had issues with their sexuality. Somehow that scared me more than Chipped Tooth.
Phineas wouldn’t look at me. He had a defeated expression on his face as the Loa swirled ineffectually around him. Richard passed a small cigar box across the table towards Phineas, who peeked inside the lid before putting it inside his jacket.
“If you want immediate distribution I’ll need all my girls. I can only work a new market with numbers.” Phineas began, all business.
“Not to worry, your new clients will find you. By now, everyone from Heaven to Hell knows what you are selling.” He chuckled to himself. Then to Chipped Tooth he said, “Take her and the others back to my office. I will be there as soon as I finish out the details with Phineas.”
**********************
I struggled unsuccessfully against my captor when we reached the door. He told me not to waste my energy; I’d be needing it later.
When we got outside Chipped Tooth looked around for Pompadour. Not finding him he yanked me around the corner by my hair, leading me towards the back of the building. I could see Loa swirling above a pile of bloody rags.
As we got closer I realized that the rags were attached to body parts. Female body parts. My eyes watered as I realized that someone or something had ripped these women limb from limb. Then I saw the sapphire ring on a broken and twisted finger.
“What have you done? Richard said to bring them back to the office- not kill them you sick bastard!” Chipped Tooth cried out in a panicked voice. “This is on you. All on you.”
He spun me around as if to protect me from what I assumed was Pompadour. As I sailed around by the hair I saw the bloody form of Pompadour kneeling near the wall of the alley. He appeared to be licking his fingers.
As he whipped me around facing the other wall, Chipped Tooth sent me sprawling to the pavement. I could only guess that he and Pompadour were fighting. I took this chance to move away, crawling until I could get my legs under me.
When I turned back I could still see Pompadour kneeling. I looked over at Chipped Tooth and he was on the ground wrestling with someone.
“A little help here…” Jeff called to me, as Chipped Tooth somehow managed to roll on top of Jeff.
Relief flooded through me as I ran back over, keeping an eye on the strangely still form of Pompadour. Why wasn’t he getting up?
I lined up for a perfect boot to the ribs, then remembered how easy it was for a foot to be caught. I took the extra step and turned it into a knee, much more effective. I heard a satisfying crack when I connected and grabbed the back of Chippy’s shirt as I lined up for another. He tried to roll away from me, allowing me to get his face this time. Blood sprayed from his now smashed nose as he sailed back off of Jeff.
I stepped over Jeff and stomped down on Chippy’s ankle, feeling it twist beneath my boot. I transferred all of my weight to that boot, scraping down the side of his foot until it found pavement again. Chippy instinctively pulled up in pain, and I brought my foot up to smash his ruined nose. It wasn’t as satisfying as the knee, so I knelt a little to reach for his hair.
In his rush to get away from me he wound up on his back again, pulling me forward. I got my fingers twisted into his nasty retro Afro and didn’t let go. I stomped on his mid section, but I couldn’t get enough momentum going for any real damage. The air whooshed out of him, stifling his scream. I began yanking his head around, trying to maintain control of his panicked efforts to get away from me. He brought his knees up to try to protect himself, but he was overweight and out of shape. He just couldn’t muster it. All he could do was scrabble with his hands and crab walk with his legs on a broken ankle.
Through a series of stomps and yanks of his hair I got him flipped over on his front. Standing behind and beside him, I dug a knee into his back as I pulled up on his hair. I imagined this was a very similar scenario to what he had planned for me.
I tried to kick his hands out from under him, thinking to smash his face into the ground. He fought me. I stomped his fingers making him cry out in pain, then I twisted the ball of my foot into them. As the fingers twisted and rolled beneath my boot he shrieked loudly- begging me to stop.
“What, isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you had in mind?” I yelled back in a cracking voice. I was breathing heavily at this point, strength draining out of me. A steady stream of obscenities issued from my mouth as I again tried to get his hands out from under him so I could smash his face.
“Lucy. LUCY!” Jeff said mildly behind me. He had his hand resting lightly in the middle of my back.
I let out a frustrated wail as I looked over at the pile of body parts. I pushed Chippy’s head forward as I released him and stood upright again, subduing an urge to stomp on his back. Then I saw Pompadour still kneeling against the wall. My vision got a little tunnelly and the world took on a dark reddish cast.
With renewed energy I turned my rage on Pompadour. As I headed towards him I stomped down on the back of Chippy’s whimpering head, feeling the fragile neck bones give way beneath me. He stopped whimpering.
I approached Pompadour at angle from behind, not giving him the chance to react to me. I didn’t know why he wasn’t helping Chippy out, maybe he was in some sort of bloodlust ecstasy. It didn’t matter- I would be yanking him out of his fantasy soon enough.
I picked my foot up to knee height, turning slightly to the side, scraping down the back of Pompadour’s ribs. He slid even further into the wall crumpling in an immobile heap at my feet. I stomped down over and over again until Jeff put his hand on my shoulder again, calling my name softly.
“Where were you?” I yelled at Jeff angrily. “Where were you?”
I headed for the pile of bodies. The Loa were still swirling over them. As I moved closer I could feel the same heavy static electricity that passed between Phineas and I earlier. Something just felt wrong about it. I felt like I was pushing against something in the air. Every time I thought I might get a handle on it, I rolled out of it.
The back door of the club slammed open and Phineas came barreling out. I jumped back, ready for Richard to follow.
Phineas dropped to his knees next to the bodies, pulling packets of herbs from his pockets.
“Help me Jeff, we don’t have much time.” Phineas cried. Jeff dropped down next to him, lighting up a cigar and using it to burn various herbs.
The bodies began to waver visually. The Loa circled faster and faster gradually vanishing from view.
Incredibly I was looking at all of the women, including Jill and Suzanne, sitting unharmed in a circle on the ground. I gasped in shock as tears ran freely down my cheek.
“Lets go ladies,” Phineas snapped his fingers repeatedly, “Lucy help them up. They are stiff from sitting here so long.”
We began to pull them to their feet, moving towards the mouth of the alley.
“How long Phineas?” Jeff asked.
Phineas tilted his head, again listening to voices I couldn’t hear.
“He is beginning to suspect. Maybe a minute or two. Let us hope he investigates out here before he decides to track us.” Phineas answered.
With that, we began to run towards our room at the Catholic Church.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Ch. 12 Athena's Gift
Chapter 12
“Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.”- Marcel Proust
The level of seediness within the club rose in direct correlation with the number of bodies crowding in the door. We had to shout to be heard. Getting to the rest room became an obstacle course through sweaty bodies.
“Come with me.” Jeff shouted at us, “I see someone I know.”
Our empty booth seemed to draw people in like a vacuum.
We wound our way through the crowd, past the dance floor and towards the darkened back half of the dance side of the club. People back here glanced furtively around themselves, looking for something but afraid to be seen. Further back women were giving lap dances and bringing their money to one of several men.
Jeff headed to a large round table with about five absolutely gorgeous women and one guy with black dreads. He was wearing a plum colored button down shirt, a bowler style hat and smoked a fat cigar. Pimp was the term that came to mind.
As I approached, the Purple Pimp looked up at me with brilliant blue eyes. He rose from his chair hesitantly, extending a hand towards me. The ambient noise in the room seemed to subdue and my hand felt like it was wading through thick static electricity as I reached to grasp his hand. There was a sense of repulsion, similar to magnets being forced together the wrong way the closer our fingers got.
We glanced at each other, gauging the other’s reaction. He quirked a smile at me and we decided to withdraw our hands. I chose an empty seat across from him as he sat back down.
“What have you brought me Jeff?” he asked in a deep mellifluous voice; it sounded faintly Caribbean to me. “You are always in such interesting company.”
As Jeff made the introductions, the Purple Pimp snapped his fingers at the women around him. They docilely left the table allowing Jill, Suzanne and Jeff to be seated. Jeff seemed to purposefully place himself between SupahPimp and me.
“You have a lovely accent,” Jill began, “Where are you from?”
“I have traveled far in my life.” He answered leaning forward to kiss the back of her hand, “but I am originally from New Orleans.”
“Ladies, this is Phineas. You may remember us hoping to find him in Danville earlier this year Lucy.” Jeff cut in, visibly uncomfortable with the friendliness of Jill and Phineas.
Come to think of it, this snapping of the fingers really should have set us all on edge. What kind of self-respecting woman responded to that? And, hey…what was that?
“Can I get you something Phineas?” Suzanne asked in a voice dripping with, well, it was x-rated. She leaned in, giving him a nice view of The Girls, who had by the way gotten completely out of control. That shirt couldn’t take much more of the heaving and swaying.
Jill and Suzanne had their gazes locked on Phineas. I looked over at Jeff who was shaking his head a little, smiling to himself.
“They aren’t even your type Phineas. Let them go.” Jeff said, with a small chuckle in his voice.
“What?” Phineas asked innocently, “Besides, you don’t know what my type is.”
“Phineas.” Jeff said a little more sternly.
“I’m not actively working anything right now.” Phineas said, “It’s the bath from earlier.”
Oh, that just explains everything…
“You know, I don’t understand half of what you say most of the time.” Jeff said. “These ladies aren’t available to you. Forget about it.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! They are sitting right here, they can hear you.” I blustered out, “Why are we even over here Jeff?”
“You are here because you are concerned for the Angels.” Phineas answered for Jeff, who just nodded his head. Jill and Suzanne took a sip of their beer in unison. They didn’t even make a face.
“It’ll wear off shortly.” Phineas said in a low voice to me. “Don’t worry.”
Riiight…
Phineas really was a Pimp. Just not in the traditional sense according to him. He claimed that all of his women were with him by choice, got regular health care provided by him and were NOT addicts of any sort. Some of them were supporting children and elderly parents, some of them were just trying to get by until something better came along.
I still wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy towards Phineas. Every few minutes a beautiful young woman would discreetly pass him a wad of bills, jewelry or other items. He would politely thank them, fix a stray strand of hair or disheveled bit of clothing and send them back on their way.
Jill was beginning to snap out of her amorous stupor and I could see that she was uncomfortable sitting with a working pimp. She got quiet and seemed to be waiting for this to be over.
Suzanne however, was curious. She wanted to know everyone’s name, how long had they been with Phineas, did he have a favorite? Sheesh! And for his part, he seemed to be growing fond of our Suzanne. He gave her a pretty sapphire ring when she commented on it, just like that. She protested at first, but he said it sparkled like her eyes when she smiled- oh it was getting deep.
I was really ready to call this night a bust and leave the happy hookers behind. I was about to say so when a large man a few tables away got up and came over to join us. Jeff and Phineas both tensed up, causing me to do the same.
“Richard, I have not extended any invitations to you this evening.” Phineas said in a loud carrying voice. The people at the tables around us seemed to pause and then move a little away.
“By my calculations,” the large man said in a classic TV pimpified voice, “you owe me some green. Since you passin’ out jooory, maybe you bettah throw somma dat in too.”
Two even larger men joined him. I was beginning to get worried.
“Whachoo reachin’ fo’ ho’,” he yelled at me, “Getcho’ bitches under control heaah Phin.”
What was that? Bitches!
Bitches!! Jill and Suzanne’s expressions said it all.
All the ladies brought out our stash of weapons; such as they were and turned in our seats to face Richard and friends. Jill slammed one of her throwing knives into the table for effect. I wondered briefly if Jill actually knew how to throw the things.
Jeff stood up next to me, with a calming hand on my shoulder that I shook off. I wasn’t about to get manhandled by my shoulder this time.
“Richard!” Phineas said in a commanding voice. “You have insulted me. Go back to your table right now!”
The people around us were giving us as much space as possible. I started to stand up, crossing my arms in front of me so I could point but still hide, my gun.
“Jeff, my friend. This is not your battle tonight. Perhaps you and your friends should come back in a few moments. After I have dealt with this piece of gutter trash.” Phineas said pointedly.
Then he cocked his head, listening to something we couldn’t hear.
Richard blanched for second. “Don’t you put no curse on me mothaf**ka...”
Then he gagged, reaching for his throat. He started clawing at it, as if he were trying to peel a pair of hands away. His large friends began to back away, looking nervously about themselves.
“The Gede say you are a nuisance I should deal with myself, you are so far beneath them.” Phineas said calmly. He cocked his head again. “And the Baron Samedi says he has no use for you, yet, so I will let you go. Trouble me no more, you have not yet seen what one of my curses may do.”
A crucifix that Phineas was wearing began to glow with a bluish light. Richard stopped struggling, his eyes bulging in fear. The large man turned and ran out of the club screaming about a Voodoo curse.
I could see four Things, for lack of a better word, swirling around Phineas’ head. They seemed like smoky, misty tribal tattoos in motion. Phineas looked at me and gave me a half nod as the Things faded.
“Let us sit back down.” He said calmly, snapping his fingers again. The women who weren’t otherwise occupied headed for the bar to bring back shots for the tables around us. Phineas muttered a few phrases under his breath and pulled out a few coffee beans from a pocket. He crushed them on the table under a shot glass and returned the coffee grounds to his pocket, patting it.
“For later.” He said, winking at me. Whatever.
“Don’t look up.” Jeff said quietly, with a glance to Phineas. “Are you expecting any Demon Touched tonight?”
I winced at the words and with an effort managed to smile and look only at Phineas.
“Oh, I expect Demon Touched every night. You are correct, a few have taken note of us and are now watching.” Phineas said. “I expect they were drawn to my discussion with the Loa.”
“What about the Angels, Annabeth and Mikhail?” I asked, would they help us?
“They are still around. But they will not interfere directly with each other here.” Phineas said. “Just wait calmly with me and they will move on to their real business for the night.”
“Which is…?” I prompted.
“Most are here to score. A few of the Demon Touched are here to recruit, but they will not bother any of mine. The Loa discourage them.” Phineas informed us.
“Loa?” Suzanne asked him.
“Yes, Spirits. I practice a form of magic you probably know of as Voodoo. It is too much to explain to you right now. Let us just say that it is a mix of African traditions, Haitian Vodoun, Catholicism and Native American herbalism.” He smiled at Suzanne as a round of spiced rum was passed around the table.
“A toast. To Baron Samedi and the Gede.” Phineas and his ladies tipped back their shots, leaving a few drops of the liquid in the bottom. They turned the glasses over, slapping them down on the table.
We looked at each other, none of our foursome wanted to drink the rum. I personally liked rum, but I was dead set against getting tipsy.
“It’s ok. You may drink with me even if you don’t thank the Loa.” Phineas was letting us off the hook.
I guess we had to drink.
**********************
Suzanne and Phineas engrossed themselves in an animated discussion about herbalism. Jill had an incredulous question now and then, grasping at a positive attitude.
“They are relatively safe here with Phineas.” Jeff whispered to me as he steered me towards the bar. As we rounded the corner to the bar side, we could see Annabeth and Mikhail. People in trench coats in varying degrees of agitation surrounded them.
“I am going to go ahead and call the Full Stein. Watch my back.”
Jeff turned in to face a corner, hiding his actions from view. I scanned the room around us, noting at least three people watching us intently. They didn’t even try to hide it. I took that to mean that they were hoping to intimidate me into behaving. Fat chance.
“Apparently, the Regulators are already here.” Jeff said, pocketing a hand held radio.
As he turned we could see a group of about five extra tall guys in trench coats sweep through the front half of the dance floor, heading for the bar side. Muscles from the Full Stein broke off from the end of the group and moved towards us.
“That’s Matthew. Don’t be rude to him.” Jeff quickly told me.
Rude! I wasn’t the one interrogating women and bopping them with stun batons.
“You two may want to leave. We are going to try to get Annabeth and Mikhail out without a fuss before the rest of the Demon Touched show up.” Matthew turned around to join the others.
The rest of the Demon Touched?
“Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.”- Marcel Proust
The level of seediness within the club rose in direct correlation with the number of bodies crowding in the door. We had to shout to be heard. Getting to the rest room became an obstacle course through sweaty bodies.
“Come with me.” Jeff shouted at us, “I see someone I know.”
Our empty booth seemed to draw people in like a vacuum.
We wound our way through the crowd, past the dance floor and towards the darkened back half of the dance side of the club. People back here glanced furtively around themselves, looking for something but afraid to be seen. Further back women were giving lap dances and bringing their money to one of several men.
Jeff headed to a large round table with about five absolutely gorgeous women and one guy with black dreads. He was wearing a plum colored button down shirt, a bowler style hat and smoked a fat cigar. Pimp was the term that came to mind.
As I approached, the Purple Pimp looked up at me with brilliant blue eyes. He rose from his chair hesitantly, extending a hand towards me. The ambient noise in the room seemed to subdue and my hand felt like it was wading through thick static electricity as I reached to grasp his hand. There was a sense of repulsion, similar to magnets being forced together the wrong way the closer our fingers got.
We glanced at each other, gauging the other’s reaction. He quirked a smile at me and we decided to withdraw our hands. I chose an empty seat across from him as he sat back down.
“What have you brought me Jeff?” he asked in a deep mellifluous voice; it sounded faintly Caribbean to me. “You are always in such interesting company.”
As Jeff made the introductions, the Purple Pimp snapped his fingers at the women around him. They docilely left the table allowing Jill, Suzanne and Jeff to be seated. Jeff seemed to purposefully place himself between SupahPimp and me.
“You have a lovely accent,” Jill began, “Where are you from?”
“I have traveled far in my life.” He answered leaning forward to kiss the back of her hand, “but I am originally from New Orleans.”
“Ladies, this is Phineas. You may remember us hoping to find him in Danville earlier this year Lucy.” Jeff cut in, visibly uncomfortable with the friendliness of Jill and Phineas.
Come to think of it, this snapping of the fingers really should have set us all on edge. What kind of self-respecting woman responded to that? And, hey…what was that?
“Can I get you something Phineas?” Suzanne asked in a voice dripping with, well, it was x-rated. She leaned in, giving him a nice view of The Girls, who had by the way gotten completely out of control. That shirt couldn’t take much more of the heaving and swaying.
Jill and Suzanne had their gazes locked on Phineas. I looked over at Jeff who was shaking his head a little, smiling to himself.
“They aren’t even your type Phineas. Let them go.” Jeff said, with a small chuckle in his voice.
“What?” Phineas asked innocently, “Besides, you don’t know what my type is.”
“Phineas.” Jeff said a little more sternly.
“I’m not actively working anything right now.” Phineas said, “It’s the bath from earlier.”
Oh, that just explains everything…
“You know, I don’t understand half of what you say most of the time.” Jeff said. “These ladies aren’t available to you. Forget about it.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! They are sitting right here, they can hear you.” I blustered out, “Why are we even over here Jeff?”
“You are here because you are concerned for the Angels.” Phineas answered for Jeff, who just nodded his head. Jill and Suzanne took a sip of their beer in unison. They didn’t even make a face.
“It’ll wear off shortly.” Phineas said in a low voice to me. “Don’t worry.”
Riiight…
Phineas really was a Pimp. Just not in the traditional sense according to him. He claimed that all of his women were with him by choice, got regular health care provided by him and were NOT addicts of any sort. Some of them were supporting children and elderly parents, some of them were just trying to get by until something better came along.
I still wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy towards Phineas. Every few minutes a beautiful young woman would discreetly pass him a wad of bills, jewelry or other items. He would politely thank them, fix a stray strand of hair or disheveled bit of clothing and send them back on their way.
Jill was beginning to snap out of her amorous stupor and I could see that she was uncomfortable sitting with a working pimp. She got quiet and seemed to be waiting for this to be over.
Suzanne however, was curious. She wanted to know everyone’s name, how long had they been with Phineas, did he have a favorite? Sheesh! And for his part, he seemed to be growing fond of our Suzanne. He gave her a pretty sapphire ring when she commented on it, just like that. She protested at first, but he said it sparkled like her eyes when she smiled- oh it was getting deep.
I was really ready to call this night a bust and leave the happy hookers behind. I was about to say so when a large man a few tables away got up and came over to join us. Jeff and Phineas both tensed up, causing me to do the same.
“Richard, I have not extended any invitations to you this evening.” Phineas said in a loud carrying voice. The people at the tables around us seemed to pause and then move a little away.
“By my calculations,” the large man said in a classic TV pimpified voice, “you owe me some green. Since you passin’ out jooory, maybe you bettah throw somma dat in too.”
Two even larger men joined him. I was beginning to get worried.
“Whachoo reachin’ fo’ ho’,” he yelled at me, “Getcho’ bitches under control heaah Phin.”
What was that? Bitches!
Bitches!! Jill and Suzanne’s expressions said it all.
All the ladies brought out our stash of weapons; such as they were and turned in our seats to face Richard and friends. Jill slammed one of her throwing knives into the table for effect. I wondered briefly if Jill actually knew how to throw the things.
Jeff stood up next to me, with a calming hand on my shoulder that I shook off. I wasn’t about to get manhandled by my shoulder this time.
“Richard!” Phineas said in a commanding voice. “You have insulted me. Go back to your table right now!”
The people around us were giving us as much space as possible. I started to stand up, crossing my arms in front of me so I could point but still hide, my gun.
“Jeff, my friend. This is not your battle tonight. Perhaps you and your friends should come back in a few moments. After I have dealt with this piece of gutter trash.” Phineas said pointedly.
Then he cocked his head, listening to something we couldn’t hear.
Richard blanched for second. “Don’t you put no curse on me mothaf**ka...”
Then he gagged, reaching for his throat. He started clawing at it, as if he were trying to peel a pair of hands away. His large friends began to back away, looking nervously about themselves.
“The Gede say you are a nuisance I should deal with myself, you are so far beneath them.” Phineas said calmly. He cocked his head again. “And the Baron Samedi says he has no use for you, yet, so I will let you go. Trouble me no more, you have not yet seen what one of my curses may do.”
A crucifix that Phineas was wearing began to glow with a bluish light. Richard stopped struggling, his eyes bulging in fear. The large man turned and ran out of the club screaming about a Voodoo curse.
I could see four Things, for lack of a better word, swirling around Phineas’ head. They seemed like smoky, misty tribal tattoos in motion. Phineas looked at me and gave me a half nod as the Things faded.
“Let us sit back down.” He said calmly, snapping his fingers again. The women who weren’t otherwise occupied headed for the bar to bring back shots for the tables around us. Phineas muttered a few phrases under his breath and pulled out a few coffee beans from a pocket. He crushed them on the table under a shot glass and returned the coffee grounds to his pocket, patting it.
“For later.” He said, winking at me. Whatever.
“Don’t look up.” Jeff said quietly, with a glance to Phineas. “Are you expecting any Demon Touched tonight?”
I winced at the words and with an effort managed to smile and look only at Phineas.
“Oh, I expect Demon Touched every night. You are correct, a few have taken note of us and are now watching.” Phineas said. “I expect they were drawn to my discussion with the Loa.”
“What about the Angels, Annabeth and Mikhail?” I asked, would they help us?
“They are still around. But they will not interfere directly with each other here.” Phineas said. “Just wait calmly with me and they will move on to their real business for the night.”
“Which is…?” I prompted.
“Most are here to score. A few of the Demon Touched are here to recruit, but they will not bother any of mine. The Loa discourage them.” Phineas informed us.
“Loa?” Suzanne asked him.
“Yes, Spirits. I practice a form of magic you probably know of as Voodoo. It is too much to explain to you right now. Let us just say that it is a mix of African traditions, Haitian Vodoun, Catholicism and Native American herbalism.” He smiled at Suzanne as a round of spiced rum was passed around the table.
“A toast. To Baron Samedi and the Gede.” Phineas and his ladies tipped back their shots, leaving a few drops of the liquid in the bottom. They turned the glasses over, slapping them down on the table.
We looked at each other, none of our foursome wanted to drink the rum. I personally liked rum, but I was dead set against getting tipsy.
“It’s ok. You may drink with me even if you don’t thank the Loa.” Phineas was letting us off the hook.
I guess we had to drink.
**********************
Suzanne and Phineas engrossed themselves in an animated discussion about herbalism. Jill had an incredulous question now and then, grasping at a positive attitude.
“They are relatively safe here with Phineas.” Jeff whispered to me as he steered me towards the bar. As we rounded the corner to the bar side, we could see Annabeth and Mikhail. People in trench coats in varying degrees of agitation surrounded them.
“I am going to go ahead and call the Full Stein. Watch my back.”
Jeff turned in to face a corner, hiding his actions from view. I scanned the room around us, noting at least three people watching us intently. They didn’t even try to hide it. I took that to mean that they were hoping to intimidate me into behaving. Fat chance.
“Apparently, the Regulators are already here.” Jeff said, pocketing a hand held radio.
As he turned we could see a group of about five extra tall guys in trench coats sweep through the front half of the dance floor, heading for the bar side. Muscles from the Full Stein broke off from the end of the group and moved towards us.
“That’s Matthew. Don’t be rude to him.” Jeff quickly told me.
Rude! I wasn’t the one interrogating women and bopping them with stun batons.
“You two may want to leave. We are going to try to get Annabeth and Mikhail out without a fuss before the rest of the Demon Touched show up.” Matthew turned around to join the others.
The rest of the Demon Touched?
Ch.11 Athena's Gift
Chapter 11
For certain is death for the born
And certain is birth for the dead
Therefore over the inevitable
Thou shouldst not grieve
-Bhagavad-Gita
A little perspective, gained from a decent nights sleep, made our discussions from the previous night look like Amateur Hour. The more I thought about it, the more I really didn’t feel up to the challenge. Who was I to think that Angels could use my help anyway?
I got up, brewed some tea and took a shower. I put on a plain black t-shirt and an old pair of snow camouflage pants. The pants had holes and grease spots on them, but they were comfortable. I hoped I didn’t look like a crazed militant.
Jill and Suzanne must have smelled the tea because they joined me shortly after I got dressed. We enjoyed the luxury of having other women around to do something with our hair, ending up with three reddish brown versions of French braiding.
At around 10:30 Jeff knocked on our door. He had bagels and butter, which we plowed through ravenously.
After he left us last night, he went back to the seminary and started asking around about the Angel bar and Demon issues. People within the church seemed reluctant to discuss any of it, as if they were embarrassed. But, he did have a good lead on a nightclub where a certain drug could be purchased. He suggested we start there by just observing tonight.
“That’s all well and good.” I said, “but what about Jill and Suzanne? They still need to get to Michigan, now more than ever. They didn’t sign on for this.”
“I haven’t forgotten about that. Lets get the ham radios out today and start broadcasting about this drug and find out if anyone from Michigan is listening. Maybe we should also mention something about the Hashmallim and Demons, but we need to put it in a way that we don’t sound like cranks.” Jeff answered, “I’ll check with some people from the church to find out about getting to Michigan, sometimes they send church vans out. Maybe you ladies can join one of those.”
“Oh. That’s great.” Jill said “We figured we would have to wait longer to move on once we got here.”
We pulled the radios out of our bags and got to work, starting with Charlie and my mom. They sounded great and the fledgling camp at the Grove was still going strong. Chris and the new Illiniwek camp was also doing well, in spite of a harrowing visit from the Hashmallim. It was good to hear his voice again.
When Jeff left for his meeting, we spent some time surfing around listening to other broadcasts. Some were pretty mundane but others sounded even crazier than ours.
Europe was experiencing issues with Valkyries snatching people up.
A giant serpent had leveled Melbourne Australia, remaking it into a landlocked bowl with mountains between it and the ocean.
In a small town in Bangladesh, a glowing woman was riding around on the back of a tiger, destroying everything in her path. Reports claim that extra arms occasionally sprouted from her back with weapons. The people in India were divided on the issue of the tiger woman, some were actually building shrines in praise of her outside their front doors.
I’m not sure how much of this I could believe. Probably, people were experiencing the same strange sort of happenings that we were right here in Illinois. I think people do have a tendency to assign something they are familiar with to things they can’t explain.
But, if these events were being accurately described for us- what would that mean? What if the God of the Western world wasn’t the only one not coming back for the end of times?
**************************
Our hairdos kept getting bigger. We hadn’t reached the point of disturbance yet, but anyone could see where this hair dresser-itis was leading.
The ladies all opted for comfortable jeans, shoes we could run in and our dressiest tops. Suzanne had some impressive cleavage going on, so we would be letting her lead.
Needing to get weapons into the club discreetly meant that we had to leave the shotguns here. Jill chose a set of small throwing knives, they were the only weapons Suzanne and I couldn’t see on her spare frame when we stepped away. I had my nine as usual. It took some effort to talk Suzanne into leaving her 357 behind in favor of mace clipped to her waist. I felt sorry in advance for whoever pushed her over the edge someday.
There was a knock at the door and Jill got up to look through the peephole.
Oh My God…she mouthed at us silently as she opened the door to let Jeff in. I had to do a double take as he walked in wearing black fatigues and a black tank top. He was freshly shaven and the scratches and bruising from our trip in had faded.
I closed my mouth as he crossed the room to draw the blinds against the darkness outside. Suzanne cocked an eyebrow at me and I mouthed a Holy Cow at her. Had he always been this muscle-y? And he smelled good too.
“What?” he asked when he turned around and we still hadn’t said anything.
“Hm hmm, right, lets go, do we have everything?” the three of us answered trying to nonchalantly fill the silence. We tucked cash and ID’s in various pockets and decided against light jackets.
“What’s up with that hair?” he asked, “I thought we were trying to be inconspicuous?”
“Wait’ll you see The Girls.” I muttered just as Suzanne passed them in a turn under his nose. I waited as he tracked their progress with a surprised look. He let them pass without saying anything, probably deciding they had great powers of distraction that might be useful later.
Suzanne and Jeff walked mostly in front leaving Jill and I to look over our shoulders from time to time, watching behind us. We only had about a mile to walk to get to the club, but it was through a very seedy area. We passed hookers, pimps, homeless and addicts all along the way. I was thankful to be part of a group. Individuals would have made very easy targets out here.
Bass was bumping within the club and we could feel it outside on the sidewalk. There was no cover to get in and no line. Two substantial looking bouncers eyeballed us as we entered, eventually settling on Suzanne.
The place was essentially a large warehouse, loosely partitioned off into a bar area and dance floor area. We headed for a booth towards the back of the bar area, the last one available.
“I’m going to get us a pitcher of beer. Take a look around and count up who is here.” Jeff announced as he headed for the bar.
“Wait, I don’t like beer. Check on the wine.” Jill called after him.
He came back with beer.
I saw two tables with trench coats on the backs of the chairs. Everyone else seemed like normal people out for a night of fun. There were several groups of men periodically checking our table out, but clearly unsure of approaching with Jeff there.
“No wine?” Jill asked.
“We aren’t here to drink. The beer is just a prop.” Jeff informed us. “I was getting the eye from a woman around the corner from the bar, I’ll be back.”
Jeff disappeared from view. I wondered if we were supposed to be catching ‘the eye’ of any of the men hanging around.
“I say we just let Jeff do what he needs to do. I really don’t think we want to pick anybody up in here.” I put in.
“Yeah, I don’t want a date. But if someone wants to dance I’m going.” Jill said, looking around.
“Just don’t go off by yourself with anyone. I can’t tell who is demon touched and who isn’t.” I warned. That seemed to settle Jill down.
We all scanned the area and realized that a couple in a booth across from us looked familiar. It was the crackhead couple from last night. They appeared to recognize us as well, offering us a nod. But they continued their conversation, joined occasionally by other people.
“They look a lot better today. Not so twitchy.” I remarked. “They don’t seem to care about us at all.”
“Well, don’t stare.” Suzanne whispered loudly, “What are we supposed to do about it if they are selling this Angel drug anyway?”
“Nothing tonight. We are just supposed to observe.” I answered.
Jeff came back to the table about ten minutes later and poured himself a glass of beer. We were a little early. Once the place filled up, there would be more to see. The place had a good crowd already, about a hundred people. But more were coming in all the time.
We pointed out the crackhead couple to Jeff, who informed us that they were named Annabeth and Mikhail. I remembered the names from the Full Stein.
“Those two are sort of like dealers, except they don’t sell the drug directly. They look for humans who can be sucked into working for them. Then they help coordinate getting the drug from the supplier to the new customer when one is located. The humans get what they want and so does everybody else.” Jeff filled us in.
“So, who is their supplier?” I asked.
“Ultimately it is a Demon. But it gets filtered through demon touched.” Jeff responded. “We need to wait for those two Angels to make contact with their supplier. Then I am going to call Matthew at the Full Stein. He’ll send in the group that deals with errant Angels.”
I didn’t think I wanted to be around for that.
For certain is death for the born
And certain is birth for the dead
Therefore over the inevitable
Thou shouldst not grieve
-Bhagavad-Gita
A little perspective, gained from a decent nights sleep, made our discussions from the previous night look like Amateur Hour. The more I thought about it, the more I really didn’t feel up to the challenge. Who was I to think that Angels could use my help anyway?
I got up, brewed some tea and took a shower. I put on a plain black t-shirt and an old pair of snow camouflage pants. The pants had holes and grease spots on them, but they were comfortable. I hoped I didn’t look like a crazed militant.
Jill and Suzanne must have smelled the tea because they joined me shortly after I got dressed. We enjoyed the luxury of having other women around to do something with our hair, ending up with three reddish brown versions of French braiding.
At around 10:30 Jeff knocked on our door. He had bagels and butter, which we plowed through ravenously.
After he left us last night, he went back to the seminary and started asking around about the Angel bar and Demon issues. People within the church seemed reluctant to discuss any of it, as if they were embarrassed. But, he did have a good lead on a nightclub where a certain drug could be purchased. He suggested we start there by just observing tonight.
“That’s all well and good.” I said, “but what about Jill and Suzanne? They still need to get to Michigan, now more than ever. They didn’t sign on for this.”
“I haven’t forgotten about that. Lets get the ham radios out today and start broadcasting about this drug and find out if anyone from Michigan is listening. Maybe we should also mention something about the Hashmallim and Demons, but we need to put it in a way that we don’t sound like cranks.” Jeff answered, “I’ll check with some people from the church to find out about getting to Michigan, sometimes they send church vans out. Maybe you ladies can join one of those.”
“Oh. That’s great.” Jill said “We figured we would have to wait longer to move on once we got here.”
We pulled the radios out of our bags and got to work, starting with Charlie and my mom. They sounded great and the fledgling camp at the Grove was still going strong. Chris and the new Illiniwek camp was also doing well, in spite of a harrowing visit from the Hashmallim. It was good to hear his voice again.
When Jeff left for his meeting, we spent some time surfing around listening to other broadcasts. Some were pretty mundane but others sounded even crazier than ours.
Europe was experiencing issues with Valkyries snatching people up.
A giant serpent had leveled Melbourne Australia, remaking it into a landlocked bowl with mountains between it and the ocean.
In a small town in Bangladesh, a glowing woman was riding around on the back of a tiger, destroying everything in her path. Reports claim that extra arms occasionally sprouted from her back with weapons. The people in India were divided on the issue of the tiger woman, some were actually building shrines in praise of her outside their front doors.
I’m not sure how much of this I could believe. Probably, people were experiencing the same strange sort of happenings that we were right here in Illinois. I think people do have a tendency to assign something they are familiar with to things they can’t explain.
But, if these events were being accurately described for us- what would that mean? What if the God of the Western world wasn’t the only one not coming back for the end of times?
**************************
Our hairdos kept getting bigger. We hadn’t reached the point of disturbance yet, but anyone could see where this hair dresser-itis was leading.
The ladies all opted for comfortable jeans, shoes we could run in and our dressiest tops. Suzanne had some impressive cleavage going on, so we would be letting her lead.
Needing to get weapons into the club discreetly meant that we had to leave the shotguns here. Jill chose a set of small throwing knives, they were the only weapons Suzanne and I couldn’t see on her spare frame when we stepped away. I had my nine as usual. It took some effort to talk Suzanne into leaving her 357 behind in favor of mace clipped to her waist. I felt sorry in advance for whoever pushed her over the edge someday.
There was a knock at the door and Jill got up to look through the peephole.
Oh My God…she mouthed at us silently as she opened the door to let Jeff in. I had to do a double take as he walked in wearing black fatigues and a black tank top. He was freshly shaven and the scratches and bruising from our trip in had faded.
I closed my mouth as he crossed the room to draw the blinds against the darkness outside. Suzanne cocked an eyebrow at me and I mouthed a Holy Cow at her. Had he always been this muscle-y? And he smelled good too.
“What?” he asked when he turned around and we still hadn’t said anything.
“Hm hmm, right, lets go, do we have everything?” the three of us answered trying to nonchalantly fill the silence. We tucked cash and ID’s in various pockets and decided against light jackets.
“What’s up with that hair?” he asked, “I thought we were trying to be inconspicuous?”
“Wait’ll you see The Girls.” I muttered just as Suzanne passed them in a turn under his nose. I waited as he tracked their progress with a surprised look. He let them pass without saying anything, probably deciding they had great powers of distraction that might be useful later.
Suzanne and Jeff walked mostly in front leaving Jill and I to look over our shoulders from time to time, watching behind us. We only had about a mile to walk to get to the club, but it was through a very seedy area. We passed hookers, pimps, homeless and addicts all along the way. I was thankful to be part of a group. Individuals would have made very easy targets out here.
Bass was bumping within the club and we could feel it outside on the sidewalk. There was no cover to get in and no line. Two substantial looking bouncers eyeballed us as we entered, eventually settling on Suzanne.
The place was essentially a large warehouse, loosely partitioned off into a bar area and dance floor area. We headed for a booth towards the back of the bar area, the last one available.
“I’m going to get us a pitcher of beer. Take a look around and count up who is here.” Jeff announced as he headed for the bar.
“Wait, I don’t like beer. Check on the wine.” Jill called after him.
He came back with beer.
I saw two tables with trench coats on the backs of the chairs. Everyone else seemed like normal people out for a night of fun. There were several groups of men periodically checking our table out, but clearly unsure of approaching with Jeff there.
“No wine?” Jill asked.
“We aren’t here to drink. The beer is just a prop.” Jeff informed us. “I was getting the eye from a woman around the corner from the bar, I’ll be back.”
Jeff disappeared from view. I wondered if we were supposed to be catching ‘the eye’ of any of the men hanging around.
“I say we just let Jeff do what he needs to do. I really don’t think we want to pick anybody up in here.” I put in.
“Yeah, I don’t want a date. But if someone wants to dance I’m going.” Jill said, looking around.
“Just don’t go off by yourself with anyone. I can’t tell who is demon touched and who isn’t.” I warned. That seemed to settle Jill down.
We all scanned the area and realized that a couple in a booth across from us looked familiar. It was the crackhead couple from last night. They appeared to recognize us as well, offering us a nod. But they continued their conversation, joined occasionally by other people.
“They look a lot better today. Not so twitchy.” I remarked. “They don’t seem to care about us at all.”
“Well, don’t stare.” Suzanne whispered loudly, “What are we supposed to do about it if they are selling this Angel drug anyway?”
“Nothing tonight. We are just supposed to observe.” I answered.
Jeff came back to the table about ten minutes later and poured himself a glass of beer. We were a little early. Once the place filled up, there would be more to see. The place had a good crowd already, about a hundred people. But more were coming in all the time.
We pointed out the crackhead couple to Jeff, who informed us that they were named Annabeth and Mikhail. I remembered the names from the Full Stein.
“Those two are sort of like dealers, except they don’t sell the drug directly. They look for humans who can be sucked into working for them. Then they help coordinate getting the drug from the supplier to the new customer when one is located. The humans get what they want and so does everybody else.” Jeff filled us in.
“So, who is their supplier?” I asked.
“Ultimately it is a Demon. But it gets filtered through demon touched.” Jeff responded. “We need to wait for those two Angels to make contact with their supplier. Then I am going to call Matthew at the Full Stein. He’ll send in the group that deals with errant Angels.”
I didn’t think I wanted to be around for that.
Ch.10 Athena's Gift
Chapter 10
“We are all atheists about most of the Gods societies have ever believed in. Some of us just go one God further.”- Richard Dawkins
Holy Cow! I’m not dead! WTF…? The room faded again.
*****************
“That really won’t be necessary…” I heard Jeff saying conversationally, “She isn’t going to cause any problems once she understands.”
“Until we understand her, she will remain as she is.” A familiar voice argued, “She is awake.”
So much for pretending. And, Ouch. I was trussed up like a turkey.
“Get me out of this, Jeff!” I said grumpily, my head hurt too.
“We will put you in one of those chairs, but, know that your friends lives depend on your cooperation.” Muscles said, leaning into my field of view. He seemed to be trying to catch my gaze.
“Fine.” I answered, step one accomplished.
Muscles produced a long knife and cut the rope from my feet to my hands. Then he picked me up and set me gently into one of the folding chairs, facing him.
I allowed the blood to circulate while I studied the room and its occupants. I’d get my shot; I just had to wait for it.
“Lucy, these are not Demon Touched.” Jeff tried to explain.
“And I suppose our new friends are Angel Touched?” I cut him off sarcastically.
“Well, no.” He said. He looked like he was going to say more, but Muscles interrupted him.
“We are not here to discuss me, we need to discuss you.” Muscles said harshly.
“Well, ask then.” I said crossly.
He took a deep steadying breath. Good, I wanted to be under his skin a little.
“I know that Jeff has already asked you this, but I am going to ask again. What are you?” he looked me in the eye. These intense stare downs were getting creepy.
“I don’t know what you mean. And what’s with the googly eyes?” I returned.
He let out a frustrated breath and got up from his chair. The door to the room opened and Bartender John walked in.
“Mikhail and Annabeth left.” John announced.
“We’ll deal with them later. Is anyone following them?” Muscles asked.
“No, they slipped out while we were dealing with the humans.” John answered, “Do you need me for anything?”
“No, just keep things going up front.” Muscles instructed. John stepped back out.
“What about Jill and Suzanne?” I asked, concerned for the mere humans.
“They are fine. We sent them back to the apartment.” Muscles answered me in a tired voice, but I doubted him. I looked over at Jeff and he nodded his head in confirmation. I was just going to have to accept that for now.
“What happened with your friend Jason?” Muscles asked me. He was clearly trying to throw me off balance. I shot Jeff a glower before I told Muscles everything I knew about it. Maybe I could get some information in return.
“Hmmm.” Was all I got. Muscles, Jeff and the other two trench coats got up and left the room.
I took that opportunity to try to loosen my feet and hands up. It wasn’t working out very well.
Jeff came back in with a pocketknife and started slicing off the ropes. It was now or never. Should I try to outrun him or knock him down? Could I do both?
“We are free to go, please don’t say or do anything to change their minds.” Jeff said as if he was reading my mind.
I hesitated as I planted my feet. He reached down and took my hand. Maybe it was supposed to be comforting. I had the feeling it was meant to keep at least one arm under control.
We walked out of the back room and I glared at everyone. That was the best I could do at the moment. My gun wasn’t in my pocket any more.
“See you later, Lucy.” John called after me. Jeff pushed me out the door before I could reply.
“Okay, we’re going, I’m going.” I said petulantly, shaking Jeff’s grip off my hand. “What in Hell was that all about? Why are walking out?”
“I’ll explain when we get to your apartment. Just keep walking.” He picked up his pace. He seemed perfectly normal, even for him.
We said hello to Sister Marta as we went up the stairs. Jill and Suzanne had better be here, I muttered to myself.
The ladies unlocked the door after peering at us through the peephole. I had to push Suzanne’s gun down as we walked in, she was on a hair trigger with worry. They had been escorted back to the apartment by one of the Coats, but they seemed to be having difficulty remembering details.
Jeff kept assuring us that we were okay. He tried several times to explain things to us, but we kept getting off on tangents. Shaking his head, he finally walked off into the bathroom. We heard the shower going and realized we were going to have to wait for him to come out to fill us in.
Briefly we discussed going in and talking to him anyway. But we couldn’t quite work up the nerve.
**********************
Jeff says that the people in the tavern, except for the dartboard guys, are actually Angels. I was pretty sure his head had been tampered with, since we all knew that we had seen Angels at my parent’s house.
It turns out we were both right.
The Angels at the tavern were sort of blue collar Angels. They had been among us since the time of Christ when they were given instructions to observe the spiritual evolution of Man. Angels, as they were properly referred to, were charged to correct minor imbalances with the minions of the Devil.
Angels and Demons had been duking it out since biblical times, awaiting Armageddon. In an effort to blend in, many of them have adopted human habits. Many of them have adopted humans for that matter. Those that have taken to human ways, with families and day jobs are often seen as tainted by the others.
The creatures at my mom’s house were Angels as well, but of a higher order. They are probably Hashmallim, part of the Dominion order of Angels. They are pure and inflexible, sent to regulate the lower order Angels and pass Judgment upon the people in their care. Jeff says that these Hashmallim are somewhat resented by the Angels as too idealistic for a world with no Gods.
“A world with no Gods?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“The Angels have been waiting for God to return. That’s what Judgment Day is supposed to be about. Word has come from the Hashmallim that Judgment Day is here, but God isn’t making an appearance.” Jeff answered me in a sad voice. He gave us all a moment to let that sink in.
“There are other problems before us right now. Or rather, for the Angels.” Jeff began. “Angels & Demons have integrated into society, blurring their own lines of good & evil. As you saw, many have taken to human ways. The Demons have developed a drug that dampens Awareness. It is highly addictive and it keeps the Angels busy with rehabbing their own.”
“I am not sure how it works but the Demons have also fallen prey to it, no one seems to care about that.” Jeff added. “I believe this is where my skills will be most useful.”
“What, rehabbing Demons?” I asked, not quite able to wrap my head around these revelations.
Jeff indicated we should all take a seat on the couch.
“Look, the world is experiencing a holy free for all. Right here, in this city, it is Angels vs. Demons. This is true for most of the Western world, aside from some small pockets like your Retreat.” He said with a nod to Jill and Suzanne. “We do NOT want the Demons to win. It’s really that simple, you have to pick a side.”
“But, if the Demons and Angels have no power in the Retreat” Jill began “then maybe we don’t need to get involved. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“She has a good point.” I piped up, thinking of the peaceful life they had carved out. “Why bring this fight down on them?”
“Here is the problem. It's just a matter of time before the Demons decide that they can hide out in your sacred places. They may not have any direct power, but the minute one of you steps off the Reservation, they can possess you just like anyone else.” Jeff answered gravely. “ What happens if Demons decide to farm your people? They’ll just never come back. The enslaved may even exert influence on others.”
That shocked us. He was absolutely right. No one at the Retreat was screening anyone for religious beliefs, just assuming that they would assimilate peacefully. It may be possible to get enough staunch Christians together to change the spiritual balance, allowing Angels and Demons to hold sway over Mother Earth.
I almost voiced that sentiment. But, what if that is what was supposed to happen? Shouldn’t we as Christians welcome the battle with Evil? Was I willing to cut my Christianity, such as it was, short in order to allow what were essentially Pagans to escape Judgment?
Didn’t Judaism and Islam have an Angelic tradition as well; did they get the same version of Angels we have? I was beginning to feel information overload creeping in.
“Jeff, if God isn’t coming, does that mean that we are on our own?” I asked. I am not sure exactly what I meant by that. I was so confused.
“We’ve been on our own for a long time.” Jeff responded. “That part of the human story won’t change. I believe God left us to our own devices to see what would happen without his interference. Whatever other human errors may have crept into the Bible and Torah and Koran, he promised us all a Judgment day. And this is it. It just isn’t the way I expected it. Our survival is what is at stake here. The Demons would love to take over and the Hashmallim are going to do their part by Judging us. If we are going to survive, and I have to believe that God meant for that to happen, we need to stop thinking in conventionally religious terms.” Jeff said. “It isn’t about saving souls any more or conversions to the correct religion. Its about surviving Angels and Demons for us. I don’t think God cares so much about blind faith followers, the people who might one day make it into his presence will simply be survivors.”
“So, I think I am understanding you correctly,” Suzanne said with a methodical tone, “maybe what needs to happen is that we get rid of the Demons and the Angels will leave. Theoretically allowing humans to go on their merry way.”
“Except the ones sent to Judge us.” I put in, “What do you think their criteria are?”
“I think it comes down to basic Good and Evil. People have chosen to follow Christianity, Judaism and even Islam in this part of the world. Their generations of belief in GOD as we know it is what has given these Hashmallim the power to Judge us. The criteria probably shift depending on your religious flavor.” Jeff speculated. “But, to be honest I really can’t say anything specific about that. The Hashmallim we saw really seemed alien to me.”
That we could agree on. It seemed to me that the easiest solution we could push for would be to try to give the Angels a leg up on the Demons, keep them both out of the Native American spaces, and just hope we were up to snuff the next time we came across a Hashmallim.
We’d probably start with the cracked out Angels tomorrow.
“We are all atheists about most of the Gods societies have ever believed in. Some of us just go one God further.”- Richard Dawkins
Holy Cow! I’m not dead! WTF…? The room faded again.
*****************
“That really won’t be necessary…” I heard Jeff saying conversationally, “She isn’t going to cause any problems once she understands.”
“Until we understand her, she will remain as she is.” A familiar voice argued, “She is awake.”
So much for pretending. And, Ouch. I was trussed up like a turkey.
“Get me out of this, Jeff!” I said grumpily, my head hurt too.
“We will put you in one of those chairs, but, know that your friends lives depend on your cooperation.” Muscles said, leaning into my field of view. He seemed to be trying to catch my gaze.
“Fine.” I answered, step one accomplished.
Muscles produced a long knife and cut the rope from my feet to my hands. Then he picked me up and set me gently into one of the folding chairs, facing him.
I allowed the blood to circulate while I studied the room and its occupants. I’d get my shot; I just had to wait for it.
“Lucy, these are not Demon Touched.” Jeff tried to explain.
“And I suppose our new friends are Angel Touched?” I cut him off sarcastically.
“Well, no.” He said. He looked like he was going to say more, but Muscles interrupted him.
“We are not here to discuss me, we need to discuss you.” Muscles said harshly.
“Well, ask then.” I said crossly.
He took a deep steadying breath. Good, I wanted to be under his skin a little.
“I know that Jeff has already asked you this, but I am going to ask again. What are you?” he looked me in the eye. These intense stare downs were getting creepy.
“I don’t know what you mean. And what’s with the googly eyes?” I returned.
He let out a frustrated breath and got up from his chair. The door to the room opened and Bartender John walked in.
“Mikhail and Annabeth left.” John announced.
“We’ll deal with them later. Is anyone following them?” Muscles asked.
“No, they slipped out while we were dealing with the humans.” John answered, “Do you need me for anything?”
“No, just keep things going up front.” Muscles instructed. John stepped back out.
“What about Jill and Suzanne?” I asked, concerned for the mere humans.
“They are fine. We sent them back to the apartment.” Muscles answered me in a tired voice, but I doubted him. I looked over at Jeff and he nodded his head in confirmation. I was just going to have to accept that for now.
“What happened with your friend Jason?” Muscles asked me. He was clearly trying to throw me off balance. I shot Jeff a glower before I told Muscles everything I knew about it. Maybe I could get some information in return.
“Hmmm.” Was all I got. Muscles, Jeff and the other two trench coats got up and left the room.
I took that opportunity to try to loosen my feet and hands up. It wasn’t working out very well.
Jeff came back in with a pocketknife and started slicing off the ropes. It was now or never. Should I try to outrun him or knock him down? Could I do both?
“We are free to go, please don’t say or do anything to change their minds.” Jeff said as if he was reading my mind.
I hesitated as I planted my feet. He reached down and took my hand. Maybe it was supposed to be comforting. I had the feeling it was meant to keep at least one arm under control.
We walked out of the back room and I glared at everyone. That was the best I could do at the moment. My gun wasn’t in my pocket any more.
“See you later, Lucy.” John called after me. Jeff pushed me out the door before I could reply.
“Okay, we’re going, I’m going.” I said petulantly, shaking Jeff’s grip off my hand. “What in Hell was that all about? Why are walking out?”
“I’ll explain when we get to your apartment. Just keep walking.” He picked up his pace. He seemed perfectly normal, even for him.
We said hello to Sister Marta as we went up the stairs. Jill and Suzanne had better be here, I muttered to myself.
The ladies unlocked the door after peering at us through the peephole. I had to push Suzanne’s gun down as we walked in, she was on a hair trigger with worry. They had been escorted back to the apartment by one of the Coats, but they seemed to be having difficulty remembering details.
Jeff kept assuring us that we were okay. He tried several times to explain things to us, but we kept getting off on tangents. Shaking his head, he finally walked off into the bathroom. We heard the shower going and realized we were going to have to wait for him to come out to fill us in.
Briefly we discussed going in and talking to him anyway. But we couldn’t quite work up the nerve.
**********************
Jeff says that the people in the tavern, except for the dartboard guys, are actually Angels. I was pretty sure his head had been tampered with, since we all knew that we had seen Angels at my parent’s house.
It turns out we were both right.
The Angels at the tavern were sort of blue collar Angels. They had been among us since the time of Christ when they were given instructions to observe the spiritual evolution of Man. Angels, as they were properly referred to, were charged to correct minor imbalances with the minions of the Devil.
Angels and Demons had been duking it out since biblical times, awaiting Armageddon. In an effort to blend in, many of them have adopted human habits. Many of them have adopted humans for that matter. Those that have taken to human ways, with families and day jobs are often seen as tainted by the others.
The creatures at my mom’s house were Angels as well, but of a higher order. They are probably Hashmallim, part of the Dominion order of Angels. They are pure and inflexible, sent to regulate the lower order Angels and pass Judgment upon the people in their care. Jeff says that these Hashmallim are somewhat resented by the Angels as too idealistic for a world with no Gods.
“A world with no Gods?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“The Angels have been waiting for God to return. That’s what Judgment Day is supposed to be about. Word has come from the Hashmallim that Judgment Day is here, but God isn’t making an appearance.” Jeff answered me in a sad voice. He gave us all a moment to let that sink in.
“There are other problems before us right now. Or rather, for the Angels.” Jeff began. “Angels & Demons have integrated into society, blurring their own lines of good & evil. As you saw, many have taken to human ways. The Demons have developed a drug that dampens Awareness. It is highly addictive and it keeps the Angels busy with rehabbing their own.”
“I am not sure how it works but the Demons have also fallen prey to it, no one seems to care about that.” Jeff added. “I believe this is where my skills will be most useful.”
“What, rehabbing Demons?” I asked, not quite able to wrap my head around these revelations.
Jeff indicated we should all take a seat on the couch.
“Look, the world is experiencing a holy free for all. Right here, in this city, it is Angels vs. Demons. This is true for most of the Western world, aside from some small pockets like your Retreat.” He said with a nod to Jill and Suzanne. “We do NOT want the Demons to win. It’s really that simple, you have to pick a side.”
“But, if the Demons and Angels have no power in the Retreat” Jill began “then maybe we don’t need to get involved. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“She has a good point.” I piped up, thinking of the peaceful life they had carved out. “Why bring this fight down on them?”
“Here is the problem. It's just a matter of time before the Demons decide that they can hide out in your sacred places. They may not have any direct power, but the minute one of you steps off the Reservation, they can possess you just like anyone else.” Jeff answered gravely. “ What happens if Demons decide to farm your people? They’ll just never come back. The enslaved may even exert influence on others.”
That shocked us. He was absolutely right. No one at the Retreat was screening anyone for religious beliefs, just assuming that they would assimilate peacefully. It may be possible to get enough staunch Christians together to change the spiritual balance, allowing Angels and Demons to hold sway over Mother Earth.
I almost voiced that sentiment. But, what if that is what was supposed to happen? Shouldn’t we as Christians welcome the battle with Evil? Was I willing to cut my Christianity, such as it was, short in order to allow what were essentially Pagans to escape Judgment?
Didn’t Judaism and Islam have an Angelic tradition as well; did they get the same version of Angels we have? I was beginning to feel information overload creeping in.
“Jeff, if God isn’t coming, does that mean that we are on our own?” I asked. I am not sure exactly what I meant by that. I was so confused.
“We’ve been on our own for a long time.” Jeff responded. “That part of the human story won’t change. I believe God left us to our own devices to see what would happen without his interference. Whatever other human errors may have crept into the Bible and Torah and Koran, he promised us all a Judgment day. And this is it. It just isn’t the way I expected it. Our survival is what is at stake here. The Demons would love to take over and the Hashmallim are going to do their part by Judging us. If we are going to survive, and I have to believe that God meant for that to happen, we need to stop thinking in conventionally religious terms.” Jeff said. “It isn’t about saving souls any more or conversions to the correct religion. Its about surviving Angels and Demons for us. I don’t think God cares so much about blind faith followers, the people who might one day make it into his presence will simply be survivors.”
“So, I think I am understanding you correctly,” Suzanne said with a methodical tone, “maybe what needs to happen is that we get rid of the Demons and the Angels will leave. Theoretically allowing humans to go on their merry way.”
“Except the ones sent to Judge us.” I put in, “What do you think their criteria are?”
“I think it comes down to basic Good and Evil. People have chosen to follow Christianity, Judaism and even Islam in this part of the world. Their generations of belief in GOD as we know it is what has given these Hashmallim the power to Judge us. The criteria probably shift depending on your religious flavor.” Jeff speculated. “But, to be honest I really can’t say anything specific about that. The Hashmallim we saw really seemed alien to me.”
That we could agree on. It seemed to me that the easiest solution we could push for would be to try to give the Angels a leg up on the Demons, keep them both out of the Native American spaces, and just hope we were up to snuff the next time we came across a Hashmallim.
We’d probably start with the cracked out Angels tomorrow.
Ch.9 Athena's Gift
Chapter 9
“Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome together, yield themselves up when taken little by little”- Plutarch
Sister Marta was much easier to deal with. She seemed happy to be in her own little world across from the Church. We were put on the fourth floor with a promise to direct Jeff to us when he came looking. She also expressed thanks for not bringing Sister Agnes along, confiding that some of the nuns secretly called her Sister Angry…
I don’t know what this building used to be, but luxurious was not likely. It had wooden floors and big windows. The apartment was one of six on the women’s floor. So far, we had it to ourselves.
The living room had a couch with a fold out bed, a table and an old recliner. The only bedroom had two sets of bunk beds in it and a dresser. The kitchen was a small galley style and the dining area had a small table with four chairs. Hopefully we wouldn’t be here very long.
“I think the first thing we should do is go down to that tavern on the corner, find out where we should take you so you can get to Michigan.” I said, “If there isn’t a bus line or shuttle I’ll take you myself. How did you get down to Illinois?”
“We rode with some people who were moving to the Retreat. I am not too worried about getting a ride to Michigan,” Jill explained, “things have a way of working themselves out. An opportunity will present itself when the time is right.”
“I do agree about the Tavern though. Let’s leave Jeff a note.” Suzanne put in.
*******************
The Full Stein came complete with a pictographic sign; apparently literacy was a big issue around here. It was a large three-story building about a block from our apartment and the first in a string of taverns leading towards Lake Michigan. We were on the edge of what we dubbed the Drunk District. The streets were filthy and smelled of urine. We didn’t plan to be out after dark.
A cloud of stale cigarette smoke walloped us as we walked in. As did the scent of cooking meat. We found a quiet booth towards the back where we could watch people coming and going. There were about ten others in the tavern with us as well as the bartender.
The bartender didn’t wait tables, so I got our three orders of stew and bread together and went up to order. We were all wine drinkers, as opposed to beer, and were concerned that this establishment wouldn’t have any.
We needn’t have worried. The Stein took great pride in the microbreweries and vintners in this region. We actually got an entire bottle of a Michigan Riesling to ourselves. It was more syrupy than any of us liked, but we weren’t going to complain.
Much to Jill’s relief, this was also the place to replenish her dwindling tobacco supply.
It was dark, with burn marks on the tables, bar and floor. But it was also comfortable. It had an old style wooden back bar with a mirror, both polished to within an inch of their lives. The bartender, John, was also easy on the eyes.
We all had a glass of wine in us when we went up to get our food and were feeling chatty. Bartender John seemed to anticipate this and laid on the charm. We decided to eat at the bar. He was absolutely going to get a nice tip. It turns out, none of us had been effectively flirted with in at least two years, and it was flattering. He fixed Jill with his liquid blue eyes a few times, and she blushed right on cue. He patted Suzanne’s hand, and she cranked up that endearing smile. He told me he was so happy to have some intelligent company for a change, and I liked him even more. He was a pro and we loved it!
As the second glass of wine settled in, I began to study the people in the bar with us. Two of them seemed to stand out for some reason. I felt like I should be seeing something obvious, but was missing it.
“Jill, you know…those two by the dart board are the only ones drinking beer.” I observed, enlisting Jill and Suzanne in my analysis.
“You’re right. Isn’t that odd?” Jill asked John the bartender.
“Oh, most of my customers drink wine. I do think that is a bit odd. It’s always been that way for some reason, but even more so in the last few years.” John replied, wiping down the taps.
A couple close to the booth we started out in seemed to be ill. Their hands were shaking, eyes darting around. They really reminded me of crackheads. The rest of the bar seemed to be giving them some distance.
“What’s wrong with that couple back there?” I asked John in a low voice. “Maybe we can help, the Parish down the street has a detox program.”
“Some people you just can’t help.” John said with a sad edge to his voice. “They made some bad choices and now they are paying the price. Believe it or not, this is the detox program for them.”
I wasn’t sure how that made any sense, but John seemed pretty sure of his assessment. He probably saw a lot of people that were beyond his means to help.
Come to think of it. Everyone but the two by the dartboards seemed to be keeping a casual watch on the two crackheads. It was very low key and subtle, but I noticed it because it was exactly what I did for Jill and Suzanne when they went to the restroom.
Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I was missing something important. It was beginning to worry me.
When John stepped away to refill the beer pitcher for the dart players I told Jill and Suzanne about my paranoid thoughts. They didn’t blow me off outright, but clearly the wine was making us all unnaturally at ease in the company of strangers.
We all looked into the large mirror of the back bar, thinking it would be more polite than turning around and staring at people. Everyone but the dartboard people was staring right at us.
“Uh oh.” Suzanne said in a low voice as we all ducked our heads, trying to look like we hadn’t noticed.
“Time to go.” I said rummaging in my jacket…my jacket pockets… “Oh crap!”
With shaking hands I laid out more than enough money to pay our bill as I slowly turned in my seat. We were sunk. There was no way we could make it to the door in time. In fact two bar patrons were moving towards the door now, as they put on their trench coats.
Yes, I said trench coats. Everyone except the dartboard people had trench coats either on them or hanging on the back of the chairs. Come to think of it, they were all pretty tall as well.
John had moved back behind the bar, I could hear him collecting the money.
“Let’s not make a fuss, ladies.” He said in a calm voice, I felt his hand grip my shoulder like a vise. “We really only need to have a word with Lucy, here.”
My heart pounded. A word he says, I’ll just bet.
The other trench coats began to close in. Jill and Suzanne shrank back towards me in their seats. I was effectively immobilized by the death grip on my shoulder but I began to reach for the nine in my jacket pocket.
The front door opened, with a blinding flash of sunshine. Jeff strolled in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.
“Hey ladies. What’s…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he began to comprehend the scene before him.
The two trench coats on the door each took an arm, marching Jeff in our general direction.
They had us all lined up on the barstools, each facing our very own Demon Touched. Suzanne and Jill seemed mesmerized and subdued. Jeff fought against the trench coats holding him, but he too eventually calmed.
“She isn’t like them. But she isn’t part of our agenda either. Bring her to the back, also the Doulos.” A muscular dark haired trench coat ordered, after looking me in the eye for several seconds.
I hoped that Jill and Suzanne would make a break for it while everyone’s attention was on Jeff and I. But they placidly gazed ahead.
“Don’t worry about your friends.” John said as I was hauled away. “I’ll take care of them.”
Wonderful.
*************************
Jeff and I were taken to a back room very much like the Mafia back rooms on TV. It was spare with a single bare bulb hanging over a card table with folding chairs. The muscular dark haired guy seemed to be in charge.
Jeff was brought in under the light so he could be scrutinized more carefully. Maybe we had made it onto some kind of Demon most wanted list. The Coats seemed most interested in Jeff’s tattoos. They apparently held some sort of significance.
“This one is indeed a Doulos. How curious.” The leader observed. “I wonder what he is doing with you?”
He was looking at me. I wasn’t going to answer and I looked away. I heard a chair scrape on the concrete floor and the leader was standing in front of me before I could even register his movement.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head around so I was facing him. I was beginning to get angry.
“Jeff! Snap out of it and do something!” I yelled as loud as I could, visibly startling everyone. They looked at each other and then over to Jeff, who seemed to be coming around.
“You WILL be silent.” The leader said equally loud, looking into my eyes.
I didn’t flinch. I’d pat myself on the back later.
“YOU will let us go, you filthy Demon lover.” I yelled back, letting the anger build. When I got loose…
He took a half step back. Again everyone looked bewildered for a moment.
“Lucy, you need to calm down.” Jeff said in a quiet voice. “This isn’t what you think.”
Poor Jeff, I hoped I wasn’t too late to save him. Did he just say my name in front of these guys? What was this Doulos they kept talking about? I started to reach for my nine again. Why hadn’t they searched us?
“I will send you all back to…” was as far as I got before I had a searing pain in my neck. The world faded to black.
It turns out, stun batons hurt pretty badly.
“Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome together, yield themselves up when taken little by little”- Plutarch
Sister Marta was much easier to deal with. She seemed happy to be in her own little world across from the Church. We were put on the fourth floor with a promise to direct Jeff to us when he came looking. She also expressed thanks for not bringing Sister Agnes along, confiding that some of the nuns secretly called her Sister Angry…
I don’t know what this building used to be, but luxurious was not likely. It had wooden floors and big windows. The apartment was one of six on the women’s floor. So far, we had it to ourselves.
The living room had a couch with a fold out bed, a table and an old recliner. The only bedroom had two sets of bunk beds in it and a dresser. The kitchen was a small galley style and the dining area had a small table with four chairs. Hopefully we wouldn’t be here very long.
“I think the first thing we should do is go down to that tavern on the corner, find out where we should take you so you can get to Michigan.” I said, “If there isn’t a bus line or shuttle I’ll take you myself. How did you get down to Illinois?”
“We rode with some people who were moving to the Retreat. I am not too worried about getting a ride to Michigan,” Jill explained, “things have a way of working themselves out. An opportunity will present itself when the time is right.”
“I do agree about the Tavern though. Let’s leave Jeff a note.” Suzanne put in.
*******************
The Full Stein came complete with a pictographic sign; apparently literacy was a big issue around here. It was a large three-story building about a block from our apartment and the first in a string of taverns leading towards Lake Michigan. We were on the edge of what we dubbed the Drunk District. The streets were filthy and smelled of urine. We didn’t plan to be out after dark.
A cloud of stale cigarette smoke walloped us as we walked in. As did the scent of cooking meat. We found a quiet booth towards the back where we could watch people coming and going. There were about ten others in the tavern with us as well as the bartender.
The bartender didn’t wait tables, so I got our three orders of stew and bread together and went up to order. We were all wine drinkers, as opposed to beer, and were concerned that this establishment wouldn’t have any.
We needn’t have worried. The Stein took great pride in the microbreweries and vintners in this region. We actually got an entire bottle of a Michigan Riesling to ourselves. It was more syrupy than any of us liked, but we weren’t going to complain.
Much to Jill’s relief, this was also the place to replenish her dwindling tobacco supply.
It was dark, with burn marks on the tables, bar and floor. But it was also comfortable. It had an old style wooden back bar with a mirror, both polished to within an inch of their lives. The bartender, John, was also easy on the eyes.
We all had a glass of wine in us when we went up to get our food and were feeling chatty. Bartender John seemed to anticipate this and laid on the charm. We decided to eat at the bar. He was absolutely going to get a nice tip. It turns out, none of us had been effectively flirted with in at least two years, and it was flattering. He fixed Jill with his liquid blue eyes a few times, and she blushed right on cue. He patted Suzanne’s hand, and she cranked up that endearing smile. He told me he was so happy to have some intelligent company for a change, and I liked him even more. He was a pro and we loved it!
As the second glass of wine settled in, I began to study the people in the bar with us. Two of them seemed to stand out for some reason. I felt like I should be seeing something obvious, but was missing it.
“Jill, you know…those two by the dart board are the only ones drinking beer.” I observed, enlisting Jill and Suzanne in my analysis.
“You’re right. Isn’t that odd?” Jill asked John the bartender.
“Oh, most of my customers drink wine. I do think that is a bit odd. It’s always been that way for some reason, but even more so in the last few years.” John replied, wiping down the taps.
A couple close to the booth we started out in seemed to be ill. Their hands were shaking, eyes darting around. They really reminded me of crackheads. The rest of the bar seemed to be giving them some distance.
“What’s wrong with that couple back there?” I asked John in a low voice. “Maybe we can help, the Parish down the street has a detox program.”
“Some people you just can’t help.” John said with a sad edge to his voice. “They made some bad choices and now they are paying the price. Believe it or not, this is the detox program for them.”
I wasn’t sure how that made any sense, but John seemed pretty sure of his assessment. He probably saw a lot of people that were beyond his means to help.
Come to think of it. Everyone but the two by the dartboards seemed to be keeping a casual watch on the two crackheads. It was very low key and subtle, but I noticed it because it was exactly what I did for Jill and Suzanne when they went to the restroom.
Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I was missing something important. It was beginning to worry me.
When John stepped away to refill the beer pitcher for the dart players I told Jill and Suzanne about my paranoid thoughts. They didn’t blow me off outright, but clearly the wine was making us all unnaturally at ease in the company of strangers.
We all looked into the large mirror of the back bar, thinking it would be more polite than turning around and staring at people. Everyone but the dartboard people was staring right at us.
“Uh oh.” Suzanne said in a low voice as we all ducked our heads, trying to look like we hadn’t noticed.
“Time to go.” I said rummaging in my jacket…my jacket pockets… “Oh crap!”
With shaking hands I laid out more than enough money to pay our bill as I slowly turned in my seat. We were sunk. There was no way we could make it to the door in time. In fact two bar patrons were moving towards the door now, as they put on their trench coats.
Yes, I said trench coats. Everyone except the dartboard people had trench coats either on them or hanging on the back of the chairs. Come to think of it, they were all pretty tall as well.
John had moved back behind the bar, I could hear him collecting the money.
“Let’s not make a fuss, ladies.” He said in a calm voice, I felt his hand grip my shoulder like a vise. “We really only need to have a word with Lucy, here.”
My heart pounded. A word he says, I’ll just bet.
The other trench coats began to close in. Jill and Suzanne shrank back towards me in their seats. I was effectively immobilized by the death grip on my shoulder but I began to reach for the nine in my jacket pocket.
The front door opened, with a blinding flash of sunshine. Jeff strolled in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.
“Hey ladies. What’s…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he began to comprehend the scene before him.
The two trench coats on the door each took an arm, marching Jeff in our general direction.
They had us all lined up on the barstools, each facing our very own Demon Touched. Suzanne and Jill seemed mesmerized and subdued. Jeff fought against the trench coats holding him, but he too eventually calmed.
“She isn’t like them. But she isn’t part of our agenda either. Bring her to the back, also the Doulos.” A muscular dark haired trench coat ordered, after looking me in the eye for several seconds.
I hoped that Jill and Suzanne would make a break for it while everyone’s attention was on Jeff and I. But they placidly gazed ahead.
“Don’t worry about your friends.” John said as I was hauled away. “I’ll take care of them.”
Wonderful.
*************************
Jeff and I were taken to a back room very much like the Mafia back rooms on TV. It was spare with a single bare bulb hanging over a card table with folding chairs. The muscular dark haired guy seemed to be in charge.
Jeff was brought in under the light so he could be scrutinized more carefully. Maybe we had made it onto some kind of Demon most wanted list. The Coats seemed most interested in Jeff’s tattoos. They apparently held some sort of significance.
“This one is indeed a Doulos. How curious.” The leader observed. “I wonder what he is doing with you?”
He was looking at me. I wasn’t going to answer and I looked away. I heard a chair scrape on the concrete floor and the leader was standing in front of me before I could even register his movement.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head around so I was facing him. I was beginning to get angry.
“Jeff! Snap out of it and do something!” I yelled as loud as I could, visibly startling everyone. They looked at each other and then over to Jeff, who seemed to be coming around.
“You WILL be silent.” The leader said equally loud, looking into my eyes.
I didn’t flinch. I’d pat myself on the back later.
“YOU will let us go, you filthy Demon lover.” I yelled back, letting the anger build. When I got loose…
He took a half step back. Again everyone looked bewildered for a moment.
“Lucy, you need to calm down.” Jeff said in a quiet voice. “This isn’t what you think.”
Poor Jeff, I hoped I wasn’t too late to save him. Did he just say my name in front of these guys? What was this Doulos they kept talking about? I started to reach for my nine again. Why hadn’t they searched us?
“I will send you all back to…” was as far as I got before I had a searing pain in my neck. The world faded to black.
It turns out, stun batons hurt pretty badly.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Ch. 8 Athena's Gift
Chapter 8
“America’s greatest strength, and its greatest weakness, is our belief in second chances, our belief that we can always start over, that things can always be made better.”-Anthony Walton
Jill and Jeff took the first driving shift. Not that shifts were working very well, Suzanne and I were wide-awake. With no National Guard presence, we just felt the need to be very organized.
As we got to the Paxton checkpoint we could see smoke rising out of the burned out hulk of the fuel station. There had been a raid in the night, and someone’s truck had crashed into a set of pumps. I thought I saw a bloody puddle across the entrance drive to the station and I tried to erase the image of a child’s shoe at the edge of the puddle as we pulled onto the Interstate.
We were between herds, a large group of five vehicles ahead of us and about three behind us. Everyone seemed comfortable with the formation and we stayed that way for about half an hour. As our padding of distance between herds began to erode we decided to speed up and get ahead of the mob. The herd cars thought they were safer in a large group, but we believed that maneuverability was more important. We let all of the vehicles we passed see our guns, and they let us go on our way.
We had just passed the Kankakee exit when we could see about four off road motorcycles pull up onto the road, shooting the tires out of a small red car ahead of us. We immediately slowed and pulled off to the side. The black sedan behind us honked when we slammed on our brakes, and then sailed right past us. We tried to wave them down, but they ignored us. There was about a hundred-yard space between us.
As we watched, two of the motorcyclists parked and began yelling at the occupants of the downed red vehicle. One of the riders fired a shot into the air. The other rider slowed and began to sight in on the black sedan, thinking to nail two vehicles. The black sedan tried to speed past them once they realized they were in trouble.
One of the tires blew on the sedan and it spun out of control, clipping one of the motorcycles. The rider of the mangled bike flew off and landed on a piece of metal fencing. He wasn’t moving.
“Suzanne, I am going to move us up. When I get out, I want you to take the wheel. Be ready to swoop in and get us. Jill, you stay with Suzanne. Shoot anything that looks like it might take out the car.” Jeff crept the car forward, honking the horn.
“Be sure to watch around you. This could be a bigger ambush than it looks like.” I said. Getting my 14 gage loaded up, and loading Jill’s 20.
Suzanne already had her shiny new-to-her Colt Python 357 out and across her lap. I really hoped she didn’t have to fire that thing. She was quite a sight target practicing in the back yard.
Jill was less than thrilled about having the guns out. That worried me.
Jeff flung his door open and stepped out; Jill did the same allowing me to get out behind her. Jeff and I immediately brought our rifles to bear on the scene ahead of us.
The three moving motorcyclists seemed uncertain of us. They clearly wanted to get this done before tangling with us. Gesturing to shoot the occupants of the red car, one of them in a blue helmet started to track a male passenger as he opened the door to run.
The would be shooter dropped as Jeff and I both shot him. The other two returned fire in a haphazard manner, trying to get their motorcycles turned around to escape.
I shot the motorcycle that presented the widest target first and then waited for the other guy to turn his. He didn’t cooperate and another idea formulated in my mind as the guy with the disabled bike started to climb on the back of his friend’s bike.
Jeff and I walked behind the open doors of the Vega as Suzanne crept forward with it. I kept my eye firmly on the panicked pair riding the last motorcycle.
When they had gone far enough into the tall weedy hillock that coming back on foot wouldn’t be easy, I sighted in and shot the bike twice. While it went down I took a moment to reload and stepped away from the door.
Jeff was intent on the passengers of the sedan and the little red car. Jill was yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear her. I was lost in my own concentration and desire to get rid of these parasites. I was….angry!
The cyclists got back up, kicking the dead bike in frustration. I watched the first one go for the gun he had dropped, calmly waiting for my shot. As he reached down, I shot his arm, just above the wrist. No gun for you…
The other attacker already had his gun and was sighting down on me. As I took my time trying to sight on his legs, his head rocked back to the crack of a rifle behind me.
“Not today, Sunshine!” Jill said in a dark voice, she still had a cigarette between her lips. “You want me to shoot the other one?”
He was howling in pain and running off.
“No, no. I think his ambushing career is over. We should try to retrieve all of the guns and ammo though.” I said, surprised at the coldness in her manner.
***************
Jill smoked like I’ve never seen anyone smoke before. She had a steady ranting conversation with herself that would have made that angry Irish comedian proud. In the end, she agreed that other people would have died if she hadn’t done something.
She and Suzy made the rounds picking up guns and ammo from the fallen. The guy on the fence post had been impaled through the abdomen and bled out, he probably hadn’t woken up to feel a thing.
The air bags had deployed on the black sedan, but the overall damage was minimal and cosmetic. With some help from the people in the little red car we got it pushed out of the ditch and the tire changed. It turns out that the couple in the sedan only lived about ten minutes away in Manteno. The young woman was visibly pregnant, so we decided to send them on their way before anything else happened. But, not before we gave them one of the rifles and a quick shooting/safety lesson.
The little red car contained three seminary students from Notre Dame. They were on their way to a Catholic parish in Chicago to help out with homeless operations. They didn’t have much gas and were concerned that they wouldn’t make it. Finding checkpoint stations that were still operational was becoming difficult.
Several cars had passed us on the road, but none of them slowed down or stopped to help. I couldn’t blame them.
We put one of our extra cans of gas into the tank of the little red car and changed their tire. All they had was a pretty sorry looking donut, so we knew it was going to be tedious travel from here on in. If that donut blew, the threesome was going to be stranded because there simply was no room in the Vega.
These guys, bless their hearts, were the most inept and unprepared group I had come across. First of all, they were starving. So we gave them a bunch of carrots and peanut butter. Not one of them could shoot a rifle, so Jeff took the most likely candidate to the side of the road and got him started. We took care of the gas issue. They were nice enough guys; lets just hope that the fate of the world never rests on their shoulders.
Richard, we’ll call him the smart one of the bunch, had been talking to Jeff during their lesson. Apparently, the Parish boys thought Jeff might be useful. We were all welcome to follow them in, and see if we could stay at the Parish for a while.
To me, that sounded uncomfortably close to unloading Jeff somewhere. I wasn’t prepared for that yet. But, I was outvoted, so we followed Dead Eye Richard down the road.
*********************
I’ve traveled through Chicago before. I’ve spent time in the suburbs. What I was seeing as we switched Interstates and headed for downtown didn’t look much like what I remembered. The crowded together row houses with overlapping roofs were missing a house now and then. The empty spaces looked like blacked out teeth.
The tall concrete barriers between residential neighborhoods and the Interstate were crumbling in places. There were signs of large impacts all over the roads.
The National Guard still maintained a presence here. But they weren’t operating checkpoints anymore. They seemed to be on defensive duty, monitoring traffic from overpasses and other high spaces. They could have blown us off the road at any time, and if we started acting squirrelly I had no doubt they would. Stopping to ask questions just didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.
An hour later, in a dirty garbage strewn area, we pulled into a manned parking garage outside of a gorgeous Gothic style cathedral. The carved facade had a blackened sooty look to it, but nothing could mask the gracefully detailed stonework.
The church ran the parking structure and wouldn’t charge us until we left. Trusting.
We followed Dead Eye, Moe and Curly in the Administrative services door. The guys were welcomed and were requested to meet with the Assistant Priest. We, the Ladies that is, were asked to please have a seat.
The dark corridor had dark wainscoting and dark red industrial grade carpeting. The curtains around the only window were a dark hunter green with ducks, circa 1980. Suzanne, Jill and I looked around for about thirty seconds before we had to roll our eyes at each other.
“I can just imagine the guy that decorated this place…” Jill began.
“And you know it had to be a guy…”I filled in.
“Yeah, but can you imagine the guy that still likes it this way?” Suzanne finished before we started giggling.
“Hm Hmm.” A loud, clearly disapproving female cleared her voice. “I was called in to see to your accommodations for the night.”
She looked us up and down and found us lacking. I think we found the person that still liked the hall decoration.
“I had thought we might find you a spot in the convent, but I can see that won’t be possible.” She sniffed, “I think you will be better suited for the shelter.”
I think we were just insulted. This woman was just like every nun I had ever heard about- stern, judgmental and substantial.
Jill stood up and walked forward, extending her hand. I held my breath.
“Hi, I’m Jill. This is my sister Suzanne and our friend Lucy.” Jill let her hand hang in the air, only inches from the nun. “And you are?”
“Sister Agnes.” The woman appeared flustered at her lapse in manners. Then she seemed to collect herself and the attitude returned. She reluctantly shook Jill’s hand, complete with an internal struggle not to wipe her hands on her skirt.
“Actually, Sister Agnes” Jill began, her hand miraculously unfrozen. “We would prefer it if you could give us the name of a decent hotel close by. We wouldn’t want to take resources away from someone who needs it more than us.”
Robbed of a fearful reaction, Sister Angry informed us that the Church had recently made a building across the street habitable. We would be among the first women to rent rooms there. She assured us that she would inform Jeff of our whereabouts when he came out of his meeting.
“You know. Maybe we should just wait here for him. We can all go over together.” I suggested. Sister Angry’s icy glare made me realize that my suggestions were not appreciated.
“That simply won’t do.” Sister Angry informed me with a sweet smile that didn’t make it up to her eyes.
“We are trying to run a seminary and a convent here. Surely you can understand how your presence might be disruptive.” She explained in slow careful words, as if to a young child.
As we walked across the street we could feel the chill receding behind us.
“America’s greatest strength, and its greatest weakness, is our belief in second chances, our belief that we can always start over, that things can always be made better.”-Anthony Walton
Jill and Jeff took the first driving shift. Not that shifts were working very well, Suzanne and I were wide-awake. With no National Guard presence, we just felt the need to be very organized.
As we got to the Paxton checkpoint we could see smoke rising out of the burned out hulk of the fuel station. There had been a raid in the night, and someone’s truck had crashed into a set of pumps. I thought I saw a bloody puddle across the entrance drive to the station and I tried to erase the image of a child’s shoe at the edge of the puddle as we pulled onto the Interstate.
We were between herds, a large group of five vehicles ahead of us and about three behind us. Everyone seemed comfortable with the formation and we stayed that way for about half an hour. As our padding of distance between herds began to erode we decided to speed up and get ahead of the mob. The herd cars thought they were safer in a large group, but we believed that maneuverability was more important. We let all of the vehicles we passed see our guns, and they let us go on our way.
We had just passed the Kankakee exit when we could see about four off road motorcycles pull up onto the road, shooting the tires out of a small red car ahead of us. We immediately slowed and pulled off to the side. The black sedan behind us honked when we slammed on our brakes, and then sailed right past us. We tried to wave them down, but they ignored us. There was about a hundred-yard space between us.
As we watched, two of the motorcyclists parked and began yelling at the occupants of the downed red vehicle. One of the riders fired a shot into the air. The other rider slowed and began to sight in on the black sedan, thinking to nail two vehicles. The black sedan tried to speed past them once they realized they were in trouble.
One of the tires blew on the sedan and it spun out of control, clipping one of the motorcycles. The rider of the mangled bike flew off and landed on a piece of metal fencing. He wasn’t moving.
“Suzanne, I am going to move us up. When I get out, I want you to take the wheel. Be ready to swoop in and get us. Jill, you stay with Suzanne. Shoot anything that looks like it might take out the car.” Jeff crept the car forward, honking the horn.
“Be sure to watch around you. This could be a bigger ambush than it looks like.” I said. Getting my 14 gage loaded up, and loading Jill’s 20.
Suzanne already had her shiny new-to-her Colt Python 357 out and across her lap. I really hoped she didn’t have to fire that thing. She was quite a sight target practicing in the back yard.
Jill was less than thrilled about having the guns out. That worried me.
Jeff flung his door open and stepped out; Jill did the same allowing me to get out behind her. Jeff and I immediately brought our rifles to bear on the scene ahead of us.
The three moving motorcyclists seemed uncertain of us. They clearly wanted to get this done before tangling with us. Gesturing to shoot the occupants of the red car, one of them in a blue helmet started to track a male passenger as he opened the door to run.
The would be shooter dropped as Jeff and I both shot him. The other two returned fire in a haphazard manner, trying to get their motorcycles turned around to escape.
I shot the motorcycle that presented the widest target first and then waited for the other guy to turn his. He didn’t cooperate and another idea formulated in my mind as the guy with the disabled bike started to climb on the back of his friend’s bike.
Jeff and I walked behind the open doors of the Vega as Suzanne crept forward with it. I kept my eye firmly on the panicked pair riding the last motorcycle.
When they had gone far enough into the tall weedy hillock that coming back on foot wouldn’t be easy, I sighted in and shot the bike twice. While it went down I took a moment to reload and stepped away from the door.
Jeff was intent on the passengers of the sedan and the little red car. Jill was yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear her. I was lost in my own concentration and desire to get rid of these parasites. I was….angry!
The cyclists got back up, kicking the dead bike in frustration. I watched the first one go for the gun he had dropped, calmly waiting for my shot. As he reached down, I shot his arm, just above the wrist. No gun for you…
The other attacker already had his gun and was sighting down on me. As I took my time trying to sight on his legs, his head rocked back to the crack of a rifle behind me.
“Not today, Sunshine!” Jill said in a dark voice, she still had a cigarette between her lips. “You want me to shoot the other one?”
He was howling in pain and running off.
“No, no. I think his ambushing career is over. We should try to retrieve all of the guns and ammo though.” I said, surprised at the coldness in her manner.
***************
Jill smoked like I’ve never seen anyone smoke before. She had a steady ranting conversation with herself that would have made that angry Irish comedian proud. In the end, she agreed that other people would have died if she hadn’t done something.
She and Suzy made the rounds picking up guns and ammo from the fallen. The guy on the fence post had been impaled through the abdomen and bled out, he probably hadn’t woken up to feel a thing.
The air bags had deployed on the black sedan, but the overall damage was minimal and cosmetic. With some help from the people in the little red car we got it pushed out of the ditch and the tire changed. It turns out that the couple in the sedan only lived about ten minutes away in Manteno. The young woman was visibly pregnant, so we decided to send them on their way before anything else happened. But, not before we gave them one of the rifles and a quick shooting/safety lesson.
The little red car contained three seminary students from Notre Dame. They were on their way to a Catholic parish in Chicago to help out with homeless operations. They didn’t have much gas and were concerned that they wouldn’t make it. Finding checkpoint stations that were still operational was becoming difficult.
Several cars had passed us on the road, but none of them slowed down or stopped to help. I couldn’t blame them.
We put one of our extra cans of gas into the tank of the little red car and changed their tire. All they had was a pretty sorry looking donut, so we knew it was going to be tedious travel from here on in. If that donut blew, the threesome was going to be stranded because there simply was no room in the Vega.
These guys, bless their hearts, were the most inept and unprepared group I had come across. First of all, they were starving. So we gave them a bunch of carrots and peanut butter. Not one of them could shoot a rifle, so Jeff took the most likely candidate to the side of the road and got him started. We took care of the gas issue. They were nice enough guys; lets just hope that the fate of the world never rests on their shoulders.
Richard, we’ll call him the smart one of the bunch, had been talking to Jeff during their lesson. Apparently, the Parish boys thought Jeff might be useful. We were all welcome to follow them in, and see if we could stay at the Parish for a while.
To me, that sounded uncomfortably close to unloading Jeff somewhere. I wasn’t prepared for that yet. But, I was outvoted, so we followed Dead Eye Richard down the road.
*********************
I’ve traveled through Chicago before. I’ve spent time in the suburbs. What I was seeing as we switched Interstates and headed for downtown didn’t look much like what I remembered. The crowded together row houses with overlapping roofs were missing a house now and then. The empty spaces looked like blacked out teeth.
The tall concrete barriers between residential neighborhoods and the Interstate were crumbling in places. There were signs of large impacts all over the roads.
The National Guard still maintained a presence here. But they weren’t operating checkpoints anymore. They seemed to be on defensive duty, monitoring traffic from overpasses and other high spaces. They could have blown us off the road at any time, and if we started acting squirrelly I had no doubt they would. Stopping to ask questions just didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.
An hour later, in a dirty garbage strewn area, we pulled into a manned parking garage outside of a gorgeous Gothic style cathedral. The carved facade had a blackened sooty look to it, but nothing could mask the gracefully detailed stonework.
The church ran the parking structure and wouldn’t charge us until we left. Trusting.
We followed Dead Eye, Moe and Curly in the Administrative services door. The guys were welcomed and were requested to meet with the Assistant Priest. We, the Ladies that is, were asked to please have a seat.
The dark corridor had dark wainscoting and dark red industrial grade carpeting. The curtains around the only window were a dark hunter green with ducks, circa 1980. Suzanne, Jill and I looked around for about thirty seconds before we had to roll our eyes at each other.
“I can just imagine the guy that decorated this place…” Jill began.
“And you know it had to be a guy…”I filled in.
“Yeah, but can you imagine the guy that still likes it this way?” Suzanne finished before we started giggling.
“Hm Hmm.” A loud, clearly disapproving female cleared her voice. “I was called in to see to your accommodations for the night.”
She looked us up and down and found us lacking. I think we found the person that still liked the hall decoration.
“I had thought we might find you a spot in the convent, but I can see that won’t be possible.” She sniffed, “I think you will be better suited for the shelter.”
I think we were just insulted. This woman was just like every nun I had ever heard about- stern, judgmental and substantial.
Jill stood up and walked forward, extending her hand. I held my breath.
“Hi, I’m Jill. This is my sister Suzanne and our friend Lucy.” Jill let her hand hang in the air, only inches from the nun. “And you are?”
“Sister Agnes.” The woman appeared flustered at her lapse in manners. Then she seemed to collect herself and the attitude returned. She reluctantly shook Jill’s hand, complete with an internal struggle not to wipe her hands on her skirt.
“Actually, Sister Agnes” Jill began, her hand miraculously unfrozen. “We would prefer it if you could give us the name of a decent hotel close by. We wouldn’t want to take resources away from someone who needs it more than us.”
Robbed of a fearful reaction, Sister Angry informed us that the Church had recently made a building across the street habitable. We would be among the first women to rent rooms there. She assured us that she would inform Jeff of our whereabouts when he came out of his meeting.
“You know. Maybe we should just wait here for him. We can all go over together.” I suggested. Sister Angry’s icy glare made me realize that my suggestions were not appreciated.
“That simply won’t do.” Sister Angry informed me with a sweet smile that didn’t make it up to her eyes.
“We are trying to run a seminary and a convent here. Surely you can understand how your presence might be disruptive.” She explained in slow careful words, as if to a young child.
As we walked across the street we could feel the chill receding behind us.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Ch. 7 Athena's Gift
Chapter 7
“He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, and he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere” Ali ibn-Abi-Talib
Much to Charlie’s dismay, his electrified perimeter was fried. The switch in the basement was even frozen in the on position. Fortunately, the attached solar cells were still working. Jeff and Charlie stayed in the basement, working on it.
The rest of us were upstairs with my mom, as she fired up the grill. The hog farm next door (a mile away) was still functional so pork was easy to get. Unbelievably, my mom had even started cooking rabbit and venison! I remember the days when chow mein was exotic.
Jill, Suzanne and I went out into the garden to collect some onions and late Morels along the creek that ran through our property.
About an hour later we all sat down to eat pork roast and vegetables. My mom is a great cook.
We spent most of the meal speculating about our visit from the Angels. None of us had the warm loved feeling one would expect from meeting an Angel. Jeff wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just blown in the front window and come in. His protections were designed for Demons, not Angels.
I felt like we had all just dodged a smiting.
It was decided that Jill would speak to the Elders at the Retreat about building a trade outpost at Ten Mile grove in conjunction with my mom and Charlie. The Grove had been abandoned for at least six months, maybe even a year. If the owner showed up again, surely a deal could be worked out. The irony of the Native Americans invading and taking over white man’s land, albeit abandoned, was not lost on us.
Jill and Suzanne were anxious to return to the Retreat, but we decided that we should all probably spend the night here. We wanted to let the Angels move out of the area. The promise of a hot shower and soak in the tub was very convincing.
We spent the remainder of the afternoon planting the tomato and rosemary seedlings that Suzanne had brought to trade. My mom agreed to send back onions, potatoes, carrots and said they could take an onion bag of Morels if they wanted.
Mom and Charlie had not one but two windmills in back of the barn, not visible from the road. They weren’t extravagant with their energy usage, but they weren’t missing out on anything either. At night we resorted to candles though, not wanting to advertise to travelers on the road that we had electricity.
When we got ready to take Jill and Suzanne back, mom packed up a small cardboard box with the fattest earthworms I’ve ever seen. It seems Mom had started a worm farm, and made a pretty good barter living off of it. They were apparently the magic trick to getting a home garden to produce long term.
****************
The drive back to the Retreat was again, surprisingly uneventful. We had a tense moment when we stopped to get fuel at the Paxton checkpoint. There were several groups of people just hanging around the station, I’m sure at least one of them was looking for an easy mark. But today, that wasn’t us.
We dropped Jill and Suzanne off to a very relieved community. The Angels had visited them as well. The stories indicated that Native American communities were not on the Angels original agenda. The Angels had appeared perplexed by the whole thing.
I asked if these were the same scary Angels that had visited us, and was assured that yes they were. It was hard to believe. Apparently, the Illiniwek had invited them to the circle, because they were having a dance! The Angels observed for a moment, but walked out of the community when one of the elder ladies attempted to purify them with some sage smoke. An interesting note- they didn’t do their jumping take off thing until they had stepped outside the community limits. Their skin also didn’t glow as brightly while they were at the circle. Hmmm.
What that told me was that Demons, Demon Touched and Angels could get into and may already be in Native American communities. They just weren’t as strong. The biggest evil and destruction that these communities needed to worry about wasn’t supernatural, it was entirely human. It was a sobering thought. As I reviewed all of the desperate, angry and hate filled people I had come across in the last few years, I realized how precarious the peaceful balance was here.
Jill and Suzanne assured me that vigilance was part of their jobs here. In fact they had a little training course they did for long term residents, to help recognize destructive elements to a society such as theirs. Any groups that had resources had to walk a fine line between human decency and security.
With a promise to return in two days, Jeff and I turned the Vega around heading for my mom’s.
I took Jeff to the checkpoint every day, but the Interstate was still closed. This meant that my mom and Charlie got a lot of extra work done around the house. Charlie and Jeff seemed to hit it off pretty well, and I think Charlie’s laid-back manner took the edge off of Jeff’s personality.
*****************
I actually have three younger brothers. But when things started getting bad travel wise, my mom sent them to my granddad’s house about two hours to the south. She gets letters from them every few months, depending on how the mail is running. I have an Aunt living there too. They seem to be doing all right and promise to come back to visit when the road situation settles down.
We were a very fortunate family! Most of the people I knew had either lost someone outright to death or illness, or were suffering a slow family breakdown because of forced separation or abandonment. We lost a car. That’s pretty much it. Baby Brother Mike slid off the road last winter, totaled the car, and got picked up by Granddad’s neighbors. Not even a scratch!
As the summer progressed, traffic on the country roads got thinner and thinner. The one clear AM radio station that we could pick up went off the air. We had to rely on Charlie’s network of Ham radio friends for news. They were actually worldwide, but the stories from the East were laced with religious psuedo-logic and difficult to believe. Some reminded me strongly of the old ‘AIDS is a curse God punished the gays with’ rhetoric. Clearly those types of reports were coming from people who were recklessly afraid.
One day, we arrived at the checkpoint to find it was abandoned. Not a soldier in sight. We fueled up the Vega and the spare gas cans. One of the regular groups at the checkpoint had taken over operations of the station and hired a few of the locals to act as guards. We didn’t have much faith that this relative safety would last.
We ferried as much gas as we could from the station to the Grove and my parents. Eventually, enough people realized that the station was unguarded and it was overrun with bickering desperation.
Jeff and I decided that if we were ever going to get to Chicago we had to go now. We could do it on one tank if we didn’t run in to too much trouble. We also asked Jill and Suzanne if they wanted a lift, since they may not get another opportunity to head back toward Michigan. Though the Grove had become their pet project, they accepted readily. We all said good-bye to our friends and the transplanted kittens at the Grove. One of the kids had taken it upon herself to name them Pinky, Dinky, Finky and Stinky.
The Grove Illiniwek were generous with supplies, and Charlie had us armed to the teeth. We also had two simple self-powered homemade ham radios that would turn out to be gold. Ham radio operators were at a premium these days. The satellites that used to provide so much for society proved too difficult to maintain and some were even shot down to avoid catastrophic collisions. And cell towers…it became a double dog dare game for stupid kids to take them down. Then other stupid people would raid them for scrap materials.
Of course, maybe it was really smart Demons…
“He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, and he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere” Ali ibn-Abi-Talib
Much to Charlie’s dismay, his electrified perimeter was fried. The switch in the basement was even frozen in the on position. Fortunately, the attached solar cells were still working. Jeff and Charlie stayed in the basement, working on it.
The rest of us were upstairs with my mom, as she fired up the grill. The hog farm next door (a mile away) was still functional so pork was easy to get. Unbelievably, my mom had even started cooking rabbit and venison! I remember the days when chow mein was exotic.
Jill, Suzanne and I went out into the garden to collect some onions and late Morels along the creek that ran through our property.
About an hour later we all sat down to eat pork roast and vegetables. My mom is a great cook.
We spent most of the meal speculating about our visit from the Angels. None of us had the warm loved feeling one would expect from meeting an Angel. Jeff wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just blown in the front window and come in. His protections were designed for Demons, not Angels.
I felt like we had all just dodged a smiting.
It was decided that Jill would speak to the Elders at the Retreat about building a trade outpost at Ten Mile grove in conjunction with my mom and Charlie. The Grove had been abandoned for at least six months, maybe even a year. If the owner showed up again, surely a deal could be worked out. The irony of the Native Americans invading and taking over white man’s land, albeit abandoned, was not lost on us.
Jill and Suzanne were anxious to return to the Retreat, but we decided that we should all probably spend the night here. We wanted to let the Angels move out of the area. The promise of a hot shower and soak in the tub was very convincing.
We spent the remainder of the afternoon planting the tomato and rosemary seedlings that Suzanne had brought to trade. My mom agreed to send back onions, potatoes, carrots and said they could take an onion bag of Morels if they wanted.
Mom and Charlie had not one but two windmills in back of the barn, not visible from the road. They weren’t extravagant with their energy usage, but they weren’t missing out on anything either. At night we resorted to candles though, not wanting to advertise to travelers on the road that we had electricity.
When we got ready to take Jill and Suzanne back, mom packed up a small cardboard box with the fattest earthworms I’ve ever seen. It seems Mom had started a worm farm, and made a pretty good barter living off of it. They were apparently the magic trick to getting a home garden to produce long term.
****************
The drive back to the Retreat was again, surprisingly uneventful. We had a tense moment when we stopped to get fuel at the Paxton checkpoint. There were several groups of people just hanging around the station, I’m sure at least one of them was looking for an easy mark. But today, that wasn’t us.
We dropped Jill and Suzanne off to a very relieved community. The Angels had visited them as well. The stories indicated that Native American communities were not on the Angels original agenda. The Angels had appeared perplexed by the whole thing.
I asked if these were the same scary Angels that had visited us, and was assured that yes they were. It was hard to believe. Apparently, the Illiniwek had invited them to the circle, because they were having a dance! The Angels observed for a moment, but walked out of the community when one of the elder ladies attempted to purify them with some sage smoke. An interesting note- they didn’t do their jumping take off thing until they had stepped outside the community limits. Their skin also didn’t glow as brightly while they were at the circle. Hmmm.
What that told me was that Demons, Demon Touched and Angels could get into and may already be in Native American communities. They just weren’t as strong. The biggest evil and destruction that these communities needed to worry about wasn’t supernatural, it was entirely human. It was a sobering thought. As I reviewed all of the desperate, angry and hate filled people I had come across in the last few years, I realized how precarious the peaceful balance was here.
Jill and Suzanne assured me that vigilance was part of their jobs here. In fact they had a little training course they did for long term residents, to help recognize destructive elements to a society such as theirs. Any groups that had resources had to walk a fine line between human decency and security.
With a promise to return in two days, Jeff and I turned the Vega around heading for my mom’s.
I took Jeff to the checkpoint every day, but the Interstate was still closed. This meant that my mom and Charlie got a lot of extra work done around the house. Charlie and Jeff seemed to hit it off pretty well, and I think Charlie’s laid-back manner took the edge off of Jeff’s personality.
*****************
I actually have three younger brothers. But when things started getting bad travel wise, my mom sent them to my granddad’s house about two hours to the south. She gets letters from them every few months, depending on how the mail is running. I have an Aunt living there too. They seem to be doing all right and promise to come back to visit when the road situation settles down.
We were a very fortunate family! Most of the people I knew had either lost someone outright to death or illness, or were suffering a slow family breakdown because of forced separation or abandonment. We lost a car. That’s pretty much it. Baby Brother Mike slid off the road last winter, totaled the car, and got picked up by Granddad’s neighbors. Not even a scratch!
As the summer progressed, traffic on the country roads got thinner and thinner. The one clear AM radio station that we could pick up went off the air. We had to rely on Charlie’s network of Ham radio friends for news. They were actually worldwide, but the stories from the East were laced with religious psuedo-logic and difficult to believe. Some reminded me strongly of the old ‘AIDS is a curse God punished the gays with’ rhetoric. Clearly those types of reports were coming from people who were recklessly afraid.
One day, we arrived at the checkpoint to find it was abandoned. Not a soldier in sight. We fueled up the Vega and the spare gas cans. One of the regular groups at the checkpoint had taken over operations of the station and hired a few of the locals to act as guards. We didn’t have much faith that this relative safety would last.
We ferried as much gas as we could from the station to the Grove and my parents. Eventually, enough people realized that the station was unguarded and it was overrun with bickering desperation.
Jeff and I decided that if we were ever going to get to Chicago we had to go now. We could do it on one tank if we didn’t run in to too much trouble. We also asked Jill and Suzanne if they wanted a lift, since they may not get another opportunity to head back toward Michigan. Though the Grove had become their pet project, they accepted readily. We all said good-bye to our friends and the transplanted kittens at the Grove. One of the kids had taken it upon herself to name them Pinky, Dinky, Finky and Stinky.
The Grove Illiniwek were generous with supplies, and Charlie had us armed to the teeth. We also had two simple self-powered homemade ham radios that would turn out to be gold. Ham radio operators were at a premium these days. The satellites that used to provide so much for society proved too difficult to maintain and some were even shot down to avoid catastrophic collisions. And cell towers…it became a double dog dare game for stupid kids to take them down. Then other stupid people would raid them for scrap materials.
Of course, maybe it was really smart Demons…
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