42. Lucifer (D1.5)

__ Doug finally stopped crying and rested his hands on Maggie's shoulders. What she had said, what she told him he had to do - to save Ardy - to save everyone - was too much to comprehend. But, then again, this whole day was too much to comprehend.
__ "I'll try," he nodded.
__ "You have to do more than try, Mr. Testerbird," Maggie said doubtfully. "If you don't do it, so many people will suffer at the end."
__ Doug took a couple stumbling steps backward and turned, his head tilted back toward the black sky. More tears threatened to come, but he was dry. All he could do was sniff and shudder.
__ "It's so much to ask."
__ He looked at the little girl. "That's what I was just thinking."
__ She smiled and rolled her eyes as if to say, "Duh."
__ He nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right."
__ "You can do this," she prompted.
__ Doug clapped his palms against his sides. "Oh. I can do this? I can hand over a sweet little girl to the devil himself?"
__ She nodded. He could tell she would be able to tell him how all of it will play out, but a higher power, a super secret something between God and the child prohibited that.
__ Because it's all on my faith, Doug figured.
__ Maggie, reading those thoughts, nodded again. Her smile carried the glint of a happy tear in one corner of her eye.
__ "This is crazy."
__ "We have to go now," Maggie said with the seriousness of a guard shouting, "Dead man walkin'!"
__ And that's exactly how Doug felt when he swallowed that lump and held his hand out to take Maggie's. He smiled sourly but surely, "Okay. Let's go."


__ The devil stood over R. Lee Munson's body, fuming.
__ He wished he had the power to urinate - or at least spit - on the corpse, but he was in the form of a corpse himself. All he could do was clack his dry teeth and gurgle angrily.
__ Munson's last two words before the devil took him damaged him, stabbed him. "Forgive you."
__ "How could he? He was mine." Lucifer, as The Fallen Angel was once known, looked to the alterlings standing about obediently but uselessly. "I promised him an eternal pardon!"
__ The alterlings didn't have to answer. Whenever he was angry at himself for becoming angry with God, Lucifer always spoke all the parts of the dialog.
__ "Oh, sure, he's got Jehovah pulling his soul strings now - the Greater Pardon. The pardon I never got!" Whirling around, Lucifer extended the bony fingers of Clye Morrow's animated corpse and put them through the shadowy neck of an alterling. The creature cried out in a wet gulping yelp before exploding into a cloud of soot.
__ The other alterlings didn't shrink away. Instead, they came closer - slowly - to their master's will.
__ "He only said that so He would take him back! He was mine!" Another alterling collapsed at Lucifer's vengeful touch. Then another. A fourth. "Damn him!"
__ Then the brittle, battered, decaying and ripe-smelling body of Clye Morrow locked its limbs and jolted to attention. The rictus grin cracked and snapped, peeling back to reveal a fresh new glistening pink tongue.
__ The brittle fingernails snicked off and fluttered to the floor. Rotted skin and clothes peeled off the body like a reptilian shed revealing the smooth lines and tanned muscles of a perfect being beneath.
__ In Lucifer's frustration, he sucked himself into the earth's surface from the darkest reaches of The Pit. He needed his own strength, the eons of power and bloodlust, and centuries - the eternity - of pent up anger and regret, vengeance and fury.
__ Enough was enough. Let Him send his son back. He didn't fall to my temptations. Let's see how he falls to my revenge.
__ And if I can't take His son, I will take His sons and all of the earth.
__ Lucifer's rage subsided when the last of the alterlings had fallen and the last strip of dead skin had fallen from the corpse. Now he stood in the ruined church, in his personal glory, a specimen of perfect wingless angel. Lucifer's skin was bronzed and rippled with the muscles of a soldier. The tight curls around the crown of his head reflected copper in the flickering candlelight. His jaw was stern and square, his eyes blue but piercing with coldness.
__ He twitched his angular nose toward the side door where Michael - his former comrade - had sent the mortal forgiver. Here two more alterlings rose up and faced him.
__ In a calm voice, the lyrical sing-song voice of an angel, edged only slightly from the Fall, Lucifer instructed, "There is another coming. The resurrector. I must armor myself for the coming storm. You must keep him from my sight until the Son proclaims himself with the first of the seven signs."
__ The alterlings bowed their shadowy bodies and turned to leave.
__ "But leave him untouched," Lucifer commanded. "I want back the power God took from me. I want to drink it from his soul when all else lies in ruin."
__ The two shadows departed and left the devil to prepare his long awaited attack.
__ The drift of snow through the opened door of the church carried with it the fine sent of ash. Lucifer closed his eyes and drank it in. It was the smell of the first moments of war.

41. The Big Game (D1)

__ Ardy had heard the stories.
__ A tunnel of bright light. A voice. Love. Family. The desire to stay though you must go back.
__ This, she thought, is what happens when you are welcomed in and cannot go back.
__ She was dead with no chance to turn around. This was the end.
__ And the beginning.
__ Since Ardy arrived - if 'arrived' is actually an operative word for 'dying,' the kind voice in the light soothed her, eased her fears, loved her, and forgave her.
__ Ardy was aware of her own being, but not of legs or arms or even eyes or ears. She just... was. Afloat in glory, Ardelene Rachel Jacobi was now reborn with the name given to every soul in heaven. She was simply The Returning Child.
__ There were no features that she could make out, but she seemed to be aware of houses upon houses upon mansions upon estates, all glowing white and gold, silver and pearl. She saw no flowers, but she was aware of the freshest bouquet she had ever smelled, an energizing spirit-swelling airy experience. She didn't blink because she didn't have eyes anymore, and her focus seemed to be everywhere at once. In a flash, she absorbed everything. The Truth.
__ And all around her were others. They felt like family and friends but had no distinctive individuality that she could pinpoint as "Uncle Ned," "Kind Old Lady Henderson," or even "Mom" or "Dad." But it was like they were all here, all welcoming her to The One Love.
__ The feeling was an indescribable rush of warm love and forgiveness. She felt large arms enfold her and soft lips kiss her forehead, though there were no arms or lips or foreheads to be found among the light. There was no pain. There was no memory of pain.
__ There had been a sharp sting after Legad sent her home, but it wasn't the feeling of her soul ripping from the earthly body it had been used to for over three decades. The sting was deep and internal.
__ And with the sting came a soul-deep probing question deeper than any accusatory inquisition. The voice whispered, "What have you done with my son. What has my son done for you."
__ Spoken as a statement rather than a question, The Returning Child felt herself suspended over the Great Pit, precariously dangling by a thread of her soul as the answer was pulled from her heart. There was no need to pull out a No. 2 pencil. There were no lines to fill out. There wasn't even time to study or consider the depth and meaning in the words. The Returning Child just pictured what she understood from years of Bible study and church attendance. It was just something she felt: that the being behind the gentle voice gave up his one and only son so that she could be here now. Her eternity had been bought and paid for. She could not express the thanks for His sacrifice. And she cried for the last time in her existence, eternal or otherwise.
__ The question. The answer. Took less than a millionth of a second to register.
__ And the whole time: the sting.
__ "It's your sin burning away," the voice had said. "You are unburdened. You are forgiven."
__ And after the sting it was true. The Returning Child was incapable of even understanding what a sinful thought was. Modesty, anger, greed, lust, any and all desire... were gone. All that was left was love and worship. The 'air' was filled with the most beautiful melodic song and The Returning Child instantly felt herself drawn into the currents of the melody. If she could cry, she would be wracked with tears of absolute joy. The only 'want' was the 'want' to remain in the Glory, to become one with love.
__ This was nothing like the experience in the kitchen before Doug touched her and brought her back to life. This was truly it, no turning back.
__ Heaven.
__ Until something like distant thunder, The Returning Child could feel, rumbled through her spirit.
__ "You cannot stay," He said.
__ The Returning Child couldn't understand. A few seconds into eternity, after passing that proverbial tunnel and bridge to Eden, and she had forgotten all that she once was because so much of what she was came with the sin that had evaporated away. All that was left of her was devotion and love, a forgiven child. A Returning Child. A child being given unconditional and perfect love.
__ And all she could do was obey.
__ It was the least she could do. And the most.
__ Somewhere a small part of her stung again. It was the pinch of loss. She could not bare to leave this place, to leave His Glory.
__ But in time, she did.
__ For he promised she would return again. Very soon.


__ R. Lee Munson found himself standing at the side door to St. Peter's church, his palm resting on the door, his fingers splayed like an awkward star. He was once again alone.
__ After all this time, after burning and branding and having love taken from him in hell, Munson was back on earth where the archangel Michael had led him.
__ The silent spirit of the angel had been inside his body and spoke gently inside his ear. "Do not fear, Robert Lee. You are a soldier with me this day. We will enter into His kingdom and you shall be forgiven.
__ "You have but to ask."
__ Then Michael was gone.
__ Munson cried softly, sniffed, watched his frosty breath float up to the security light above the side door. "I can't. I can't do this alone. I am no soldier."
__ But no answer came. Michael had already filled Munson's mind with what must be done. It was God's final test for him to see if his heart would comply. And then the archangel left.
__ His final words, "You are loved. In that, like me, you will find the strength you need to sacrifice as He had for you."


__ When Munson finally opened the side door to the church, armed only with a single word given to him by God's soldier, his strength immediately purged and he dropped to his knees and wept.
__ The inside of the church had been demolished. Splinters of pew wood were scattered amongst broken candle sticks, statuettes of the Virgin Mary, offering and communion plates, and shards of broken stain glass.
__ Around the debris, carefully arranged to offer the best lighting, were fields of candles. The candles became tighter clusters as they were placed closer to the altar. And the altar itself was tipped over and was used to prop up a giant crucifix. Nailed to the cross was not Jesus but Ardy Jacobi. Her left arm and leg had been badly crushed, her left foot twisted grotesquely sideways so the high C flute from the demolished pipe organ could be used to nail her feet to the makeshift sedile. Still hanging from her side was what appeared to be a curtain rod. Blood was congealing down the shaft and puddled darkly on the floor below her. She was pale, her face a frozen mask of pain now released from suffering. The bloodied hair that hung down one side of her face moved slightly from the breeze by the open door. A couple candles blew out. The breeze eased the smell from the feces smeared on the walls, over the broken pews and floor, and on Ardy's face and clothes.
__ Near the entrance to the church, hanging from the balcony, was a teenage boy. Munson recognized the clothes, and what was left of the face. It was the Pizza King delivery boy, his head misshapen and spiked with what looked like antlers that had been shoved into his ears and the back of his head. A curtain cord was snug around his purple neck and tied to the railing above the entrance. He too was dead, but Munson shuddered to think of exactly when that spirit would have departed.
__ He gasped when he saw the nine shadows standing at attention behind the railing. The Alterlings had no facial features, but Munson felt watched, studied.
__ "I expected Michael."
__ Munson reared back, felt his heart hitch in his throat, at the sound of the soft voice.
__ The man was suddenly in front of him, the one who had been so familiar at the beginning of the day, at earlier moments in his life. The stranger. The pervert. The abuser. Clye Morrow.
__ "You are not Michael."
__ Munson stood, brushed at his pants, and glanced around for some explanation for how the dead man was now animated in front of him. Morrow wasn't resurrected as he was, as Ardy had once been. Clye Morrow moved stiffly, his gray eyes locked always forward, never shifting. His mottled gray skin giving off the stench of chilled earth. He couldn't even be called a zombie. There were no words for what this thing was, but two: Munson's nightmare.
__ "I had thought to bring you back, Clye, to beg you forgiveness for me killin' you," Munson mumbled.
__ The Clye-thing didn't blink. It merely stared at him without showing emotion. Maybe it cocked its head slightly as if to say, "I'm listening." But it didn't.
__ "Regardless what you done to me, I was going to ask you to forgive me."
__ "Were you?" The mouth cracked.
__ Munson nodded slowly, suspicious now that he wasn't talking to Clye Morrow at all, animated corpse or not, this was just the shell. Something else - someone else - was in there.
__ "Don't," it said. "Because I won't give you what you seek. Your time in the Pit is not yet done." Munson could swear it smiled. "Hell is eternal, Robbie."
__ The name made Munson's skin crawl and chill numbly. It was the name he was called - was called just before -
__ "Quiet worm," it smiled, "Don't squirm."
__ "No!" The years of memories, the pain, the touching, flooded back and Munson surged forward with fury and a wellspring of anger. "No!"
__ Clye Morrow's corpse stepped aside, with some agility for a stiffened dead man, and allowed Munson to stumble past him. Two alterlings were quickly on him, one on each arm, grabbing him and spinning him to face the rotting abuser. They held him like the lackeys of a bully, arms pinned and ready for the blows to come.
__ The Morrow-corpse stepped up to Munson, rested a cold palm over his heart, and rolled out a crackling dry and rot-smelling tongue from between blackened gums and crooked teeth. It leaned forward and touched the tongue to Munson's ear as the captive redeemed tried to twist and turn away.
__ It whispered, "I am the light bearer, Robert Lee." Then it stepped back and bowed.
__ "Like the song," Munson felt himself sneering. Where the tongue had touched his skin it felt scaly, crawly. He said, "Won't I guess your name?"
__ The corpse smiled. "Call me deceiver, composer of lies, the first traitor. Whatever. Your... cultural reference ...only proves to me that the time is ripe, that the window of the second coming will be our open door to return."
__ So, the devil returns with the Son, seizing the opportunity to take what isn't rightfully his.
__ Munson cleared his throat, tried to stand taller, struggling between the alterlings unearthly grip. "Michael sent me to stop you."
__ Without pause or reflection, the light bearer said, "Why would he send a condemned murderer?"
__ The church around them groaned against the unseasonable chill outside. A candle flickered. Ardy's body remained limp and suspended. The alterlings remained at silent dark vigil for their master.
__ "I remember the taste of your soul, your tears," the devil chuckled. "It was sweet, like candy. How did it feel, by the way, to be so far from His love? How did it feel to be abandoned, lost? How did it feel to know others were raised above you, held in His arms? How did it feel to know you lived a lost and mistaken life, to be constantly reminded that you had taken the wrong path? How did it feel to know his Son was the door you neglected to open....
__ "And thus cost you your eternal soul?"
__ Munson's chin quivered. The devil was right. It hurt. It hurt bad. "It felt like hell," he muttered.
__ "Welcome back," the devil in Clye Morrow's corpse said, and stepped up and embraced R. Lee Munson with a cold crusty hug.
__ "No. Please."
__ The light bearer concluded the embrace by taking Munson's face in his hands and kissing him on the squirming and resisting mouth. "Sssh," he smiled. "Quiet worm. Don't squirm."
__ Feeling the snap coming, Munson's eyes grew wide and welled with tears. As Michael suggested, he said only one thing. "Forgive you."
__ And with that the devil snapped Munson's neck with a twist and let his lifeless body collapse to the floor in a heap.

40. Doug Finally Sees the Light (D1)

__ Michael stopped where the road split. The broader snow-covered lane to the left would head back into town. The thin band of gray-lit snow breaking the trees to the right would lead to St. Peter's church. "This is the way?"
__ Maggie Morrow, now appearing much more mature than her eight year-old frame, stepped forward and pretended to sniff the air, examine the bark on nearby trees, study the snow at her feet for evidence of earlier trails. She said, "Snow already covered most of everything. Can you feel her no more?"
__ The archangel slowly shook his head. A tear glistened in the corner of his eye.
__ "It'll be okay, Mr. M. I promise."
__ A groan sounded from Doug still slung over Michael's shoulder like a large sack of flower. Michael knelt and gently lowered him into the snow.
__ Shaking himself awake, Doug said, "What happened?" Then he registered Maggie and Michael and it all came back to him. He shuddered and scooted away from them. "Stay away from me, Munson, or whoever the hell you are."
__ "Not hell," Maggie said.
__ Michael, in Munson's form since the killer's death hours ago, held up placating hands. "If you remember, Douglas, it was you who fell on the stone. I didn't actually hit you."
__ "Yeah," Maggie offered. "You were acting crazy. You were gonna hit us."
__ Doug's breathing fell less heavy and he stood on shaky legs, dusting himself off. He examined the road to his right, behind his two companions, and over his shoulder.
__ Thumbing the direction over his shoulder, Doug said, "That road dead-ends at St. Peter's church."
__ Michael nodded.
__ "She's there? Is that where he took Ardy?" Doug started to turn, head down the snow covered lane, when Michael's hand stopped him. The grip made Doug wince, "What are you doin', Munson. We gotta help--"
__ "She's dead."
__ Both men turned and looked down at the little psychic girl who announced the fact as though she were commenting on the cold.
__ Doug knelt before her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, sweetheart, she's not dead. We have to hurry so we can save her."
__ Maggie scrunched up her face and looked up at Michael who raised an eyebrow as if to say, want me to tell him?
__ Michael offered. "Doug. You have to listen to her."
__ "To her? What about to you? What are you doing to save Ardy?" Doug stood and positioned himself in front of the man to challenge him. His voice raised in a harsh whisper, he said, "Ever since you came into the picture, you've tried to kill us, rape her. You brought all this down. You are the one who came onto the scene with your guns and knives and rope. It was you who kept us prisoner in her store. You're the murderer. You are the one keeping me from going to her even now!"
__ Maggie patted at Doug's arm and kept repeating, "No, no, no, no," but he wasn't listening.
__ And his voice got louder. "I tried to tell her not to come after you. I tried to protect her. I tried--" His voice broke and he sniffed back tears.
__ "Doug, don't cry," Maggie pleaded, her own chin quivering.
__ Michael's grip on Doug's arm loosened and he raised his other hand to Doug's cheek. "Douglas, listen to me. I'm a soldier. I'm not equipped to handle this and I don't have time right now."
__ "He's right," Maggie said.
__ "On the way here Maggie explained the whole thing to me. There is a plan, Douglas, and it's not yours. It's His." Michael pointed skyward.
__ "What are you talking--?"
__ "It's too complicated. And it's not complicated at all." Glancing to Maggie, Michael said, "From the mouths of babes, Douglas. The mouths of babes." Michael pushed past Doug and started down the narrow road.
__ "What are you doing?"
__ Michael turned and looked at the store owner and the little girl. His smile was weak. "What I was made to do."
__ "I'm coming with you," Doug said, anger fresh. Maggie grabbed him around the leg and held firm.
__ "No, Douglas. That's not how it's written. Please do this for Ardy. Listen to the girl. She will explain everything."
__ "No. I'm coming." Doug pushed Maggie back and started after Michael.
__ "Doug!"
__ He stopped.
__ Michael continued, "You were right."
__ Doug cocked his head and gave it a slight shake as if to say, About what, exactly?
__ Michael's blue eyes closed. When they re-opened, they were Munson's brown eyes. Weariness cascaded over his body and his expression was one of sorrow and deep, deep regret. The change was subtle, but it was enough to scare Doug back a few steps. Maggie hugged him as Munson spoke.
__ "You were right, Doug. This was all my fault." Munson spoke through tears that formed narrow streams down his cheeks. "I'm paying for it now. For all of it. For my whole life. I've been used to play a part here today - as you have. As Maggie has. As," he sniffed, "Ardy has.
__ "You were right, Doug. I was an evil man, unforgiven because I didn't seek the forgiveness as you have.
__ "Look around you. You know something larger than any of us is coming. The darkness. The cold. The abilities you and Ardy, and Maggie, all have. That's not happenstance, Doug. That's not coincidence or some miraculous turn of cosmic energy."
__ Doug shook his head. "This can't be God's will. He can't be allowing all this pain and suffering. This - This chaos is not heavenly. It's --"
__ "Hell. You're right." Munson blinked, smiled, "Why do you think he sent Michael here?"
__ Doug stared. Blinked. He forced all the rationale from his mind. He pushed away the Star Trek and X-Files and movies and TV he loved so much, perhaps too much. He thought about the only thing that could make sense in all of this; that what Munson was saying was true. Doug went to church regularly, he prayed hard. He wasn't involved in missions or church groups, but he was regular. He understood.
__ Or thought he did until today. "I don't remember this in Revelation."
__ "That's because it hasn't happened yet," Munson offered. He came back to Doug, rested a hand on his shoulder. "You saw me die. You know where I was, what I have to go back to."
__ Doug nodded slowly. His chin quivered in pity for the man.
__ "I'm telling you what I saw with my own soul. Hell is readying for war."
__ Doug's eyes grew wide. He glanced down at Maggie who was nodding in full understanding, as if this little girl could possibly conceive --
__ Munson stepped back. "You were right. I was a cold-blooded killer. I had lost my way as the seed spread on poisoned ground. But I had known it once. When I was little." He looked at Maggie and smiled the smile of a proud brother. "God is sending me in there with his archangel to face not only my demons, but the demons of the world."
__ Doug shook his head. "I-I still don't understand. How do we compute in all this?"
__ "He's coming back, Doug. This is it. The big game. We're all getting off the bench now to play our part. He will come again in glory to judge both the living and the dead."
__ "And his kingdom will have no end," Doug finished the prayer, his expression shifting from ignorance to shocked disbelief.
__ "Maggie was blessed with the answers you need, Doug." And with that, with a blink from brown eyes to blue, Michael turned and walked purposefully toward the church in the snowy dark.
__ Feeling useless, Doug called out the only thing he could think of, "Save her."
__ Michael barely turned his head in acknowledgment.
__ Maggie pulled on Doug's sleeve. "She's already been saved, Mr. Testerbird."
__ Doug took a deep shaky breath and crouched in front of the girl. He nodded, "Okay. Now tell me what I have to do."
__ Maggie smiled. Then her smile faded. "You have to have very strong faith, Mr. Testerbird. More than me or Mr. M, or even Ardelene. Yours will be the hardest part of all."
__ He nodded again. "I can do it."
__ Maggie looked at his forehead as though she could look into his mind and read his thoughts, which she could. She said, "I'm not Yoda, and you're not Luke, and Darth Vader is not in there.
__ "It's easy to say you can do it because it's easy to say it in the movies."
__ Doug forced a laugh. "But I can. I'm going to do it for her, for you. I have to."
__ "Really?"
__ "Really."
__ "Then you're ready to betray me - a little girl - to the devil?"