Authors: Robert Kroese
He assumed that whenever the bomb went off, it was going to
take him with it. He didn’t particularly like the idea of being blown to a
billion pieces far above western Michigan, but it was a painless way to
disincorporate, and of course it wouldn’t be permanent. His angelic life force
would gradually reassemble his body over the course of the next several hours,
and he’d be as good as new. The same was true for any other angels caught in
the blast radius. Human beings, of course, would not be so fortunate.
When he was about half a mile up, he began to think he might
just make it far enough away to save most of the residents of the city. In the
interest of making better time—and out of concern for the residents of Lansing,
about an hour downwind to the east—he turned north toward what looked like a
mostly forested, unpopulated area. He continued to climb gradually, and soon
was a mile up and about five miles from downtown Grand Rapids. He’d made it. If
the bomb went off now, it was far enough away from the city to cause minimal
damage. Maybe Michelle’s people weren’t as smart as he had figured.
He wasn’t sure what to do with the bomb, though. He could
try to stash it somewhere and maybe use it as leverage against Michelle, but
what if they had some way of tracking it? He could destroy it, but he wasn’t
sure how to do that without either detonating it or spreading highly
radioactive material all over the place. He could put it into orbit, but that
would be a catastrophe waiting to happen. He could bring it to the Moon, but
that would take days. And really, hadn’t he done enough damage to the Moon?
He’d finally settled on the North Pole when the bomb went
off in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-six
Apocalypse Bureau Building,
Heaven, 1783 A.D.
“Enough!” cried Mercury, to the
astonishment of Uzziel, who jumped nearly out of his chair.
Uzziel had been expounding on Heaven’s latest plans for
America. The war had been won, but now Heaven had turned its sights to France,
where Tiamat was stirring up rebellious sentiment. It was thought that if there
was a revolution in France, war could spill over into Britain. If America
joined the French cause, it could be very bad for the prospects of parliamentary
government in Western Europe. So now Mercury was to be tasked with the precise
opposite of his previous mission: he was to stoke the fires of American
affection for the mother country. It was thought by the higher-ups that
pro-British sentiment could dampen the Americans’ enthusiasm for the cause of
Liberté,
égalité,
and
fraternité.
Not that there was anything wrong with
Liberté,
égalité,
and
fraternité per se.
Heaven was all in favor of
Liberté,
égalité,
and
fraternité
in principle, but it was generally agreed
that France wasn’t quite ready for a big helping of all three at once.
Mercury, though, was thoroughly fed up and for once simply
refused to follow orders. “First of all,” he growled, “I’ve got nearly ninety
years of vacation time saved up, and at the rate you’ve got me working I’m
going to hit the century mark pretty quick. You know payroll won’t let me bank
more than a hundred years, which means that I’m going to lose that time. Don’t
make me file a report with the Wage and Hours Commission.”
Before Uzziel could respond, Mercury went on, “Second, I’m
sick to death of interfering in these complex political situations. First
nobody wants war. Then Lucifer wants war, but we don’t. Then we want war too.
Tiamat doesn’t care one way or another, but she pretends to help bring about
war so that she can take over France. War breaks out and everybody’s happy,
except for me and all the guys getting shot to death, of course. Everybody
except George Washington is convinced that the British are going to win, but
for some reason we support the Americans anyway. Then Lucifer changes his mind
and decides to support the British. The British lose and Lucifer gets
distracted by something shiny in South Africa. Meanwhile we’re just thrilled
about the American victory for about five minutes, when we realize that, hey,
big surprise, Tiamat has
fucking taken over France
. So now suddenly we
have to get the Americans to remember that they’re best pals with the country
that a few years earlier had hired a bunch of Germans to kill them. It’s
insane! How do you not see this?”
“I’ll admit it’s a complex situation…” started Uzziel.
“A round robin tournament of monkeys playing Parcheesi in
bumper boats is a complex situation,” yelled Mercury. “This is a fucking
disaster! How can anyone with an ounce of sense think that getting involved in
this sort of situation is a good idea? There are so many alliances and
counter-alliances and double-crosses, it’s completely impossible to foresee the
outcome of anything you might do anyway! What is the point, man?”
“Well, that’s just the thing,” said Uzziel. “Lucifer and
Tiamat aren’t going to stay out of the situation even if we do, so we’ve got to
have some presence on the ground. And while it’s true that in a chaotic system
it can be difficult to anticipate—”
“What if we all just stayed out?” Mercury asked.
Uzziel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Lucifer and Tiamat don’t understand the situation
in America any better than we do. What if we all just got together and agreed
to stay the hell out of their business?”
“That would free up their demons to do a lot of damage in
Europe and Asia…”
“And it would free up a lot of angels to counteract them,”
finished Mercury. “Look, I get we’re supposed to be doing what we can to bring
about the Divine Plan, and we’ve got a lot of vested interests in Europe, the
Middle East, and plenty of other places on the Mundane Plane. But we don’t
really have much going on in North America yet. It’s mostly just me running up
and down the eastern seaboard changing wigs. Lucifer has pulled out most of his
guys, and Tiamat’s focused on France these days. Why couldn’t we all just agree
to let the Americans decide their own fate?”
Uzziel shook his head. “That’s not the way it works,” he
said. “We’re charged with unfolding the Divine Plan on the Mundane Plane, and
currently that means we’re supporting the cause of representative government in
the New World. That means boots on the ground.”
“Do you even hear yourself talking?” Mercury asked. “What
part of ‘representative government’ do you not understand? How can you say
you’re in favor of ‘representative government’ while simultaneously being
opposed to letting the American people govern themselves without our
interference?”
“I get the point you’re trying to make, Mercury…”
“Do you? Because it kind of seems like you don’t. It seems
like you’re all ‘rah-rah democracy’ until someone wants to actually have a
fucking democracy.”
“What has gotten into you, Mercury?” asked Uzziel. “It’s not
just the vacation days, I can see that.”
“I’m tired, Uzziel.
Tired of messing with
people’s lives for no good reason.
What’s wrong with letting people make
their own decisions for once?”
Uzziel sat back in his chair, regarding Mercury somberly.
The fact was, Uzziel was right: there was something that had prompted him to
make this suggestion—some
one
, actually. But it would help matters if
Uzziel knew that. It was best if Uzziel thought Mercury had come up with the
idea on his own.
“I’ll float the idea up the chain,” Uzziel said at last. “No
guarantees.”
“Fantastic,” said Mercury. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“All right,” said Uzziel. “Now get out of here. Take a few
days off. You look terrible.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Near Grand Rapids, Michigan;
August 2016
The man who had abducted Suzy and
Eddie—his name was apparently Zion Johnson—lost no time in reacting once Suzy
told him about the bomb. Whatever could be said about this guy, thought Suzy,
he was decisive. He threw poor, beat-up, bleeding, spray-painted Nisroc out the
door of the van, got back in his seat, and started barking orders. The van
peeled out of the garage and got onto the road, the engine roaring and horns
blaring as smaller vehicles scattered to get out of its path. Suzy tried to
figure out where they were headed, but Zion Johnson also had her and Eddie
fitted with cloth hoods that prevented them from seeing where they were going.
After a lot of squealing tires, honking horns, and rolling around on the van
floor, the van screeched to a stop, the door was thrown open, and she was
lifted bodily out of the van and carried to another vehicle nearby. From the
sounds it made, she was pretty she was in a helicopter. Somebody strapped her
in, and she felt someone—presumably Eddie—being strapped in next to her. She
heard the pitch of the engine increasing as the rotors spun faster and faster.
After a few seconds, she felt the vehicle leave the ground. Suzy was strapped
tightly into her seat, which was good because her hands were tied, making it
difficult for her to brace herself against the movements of the cabin.
“Don’t bother to try any fancy tricks,” barked Zion Johnson
over the whine of the motor. “I’ve still got the Balderdash Cube, so your magic
powers won’t work.”
“Balderhaz,” muttered Eddie.
“Shut up!” yelled the man, and she felt Eddie jerk backwards
as if being struck. Then he went limp and stayed quiet.
The helicopter pitched forward and began to pick up speed.
They arced to the right and then continued straight for some time, rapidly
gaining altitude. Then everything became very quiet, as if the motor had
suddenly cut out. Suzy felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand up and the cabin
became suddenly warm, as if being showered with bright sunlight.
“Get us the fuck—” yelled Zion Johnson. The rest of his
words were drowned out by the whoosh of a sudden wind, followed by a deafening
boom. The helicopter pitched forward and Suzy was thrust back against her seat.
Eddie stirred next to her.
There was another moment of eerie near-silence, in which only
the hum of the rotors could be heard. The helicopter began to fall.
Another rush of wind followed, this time pulling them
backward. Suzy felt the helicopter pitch and roll crazily.
“We’re going down!” yelled a man farther away, whom Suzy
took for the pilot.
“Wha… happened?” murmured Eddie.
“I think the bomb went off,” Suzy said urgently. “We’re
falling! Is there anything you can do?”
“Ungh,” said Eddie.
“Balderhaz.”
They were now losing altitude rapidly, the helicopter
wobbling lazily from side-to-side in the chaotic wind.
“Can’t you get the rotors going?” barked Zion Johnson.
“EMP must have fried something,” said the pilot.
“Everything’s dead!”
“Jesus Christ,” growled Zion Johnson. “Whose idea was it to
take a fucking helicopter? We could be in a fucking Cadillac right now. I bet
an EMP wouldn’t take out a Cadillac. And if it did, who cares? You’re in a
fucking Cadillac. You pull over and wait for fucking Triple A.”
The helicopter continued to fall.
“Drop the cube,” said Suzy suddenly.
“What?” snapped Zion
Johnson.
“Drop the Balderhaz Cube! Eddie can save us if you get rid
of the damn cube!”
“Not a chance,” said Zion Johnson. “He’ll use his powers to
escape.”
“He’ll escape for sure if we crash,” replied Suzy. “We’ll
all be killed, but he’ll escape. Is that what you want?”
There was a momentary pause, in which Suzy wondered whether
the regimented stupidity of military thinking was going to prevent Zion Johnson
from making the only possible correct decision.
“Throw out the cube!” he barked at last.
“Now!”
“Yes, sir!” shouted another man.
“OK, it’s gone,” yelled Zion Johnson. “Do something!”
“Take my hood off,” said Eddie. There was some commotion
next to Suzy. “Hers too,” Eddie said. Suzy’s hood was jerked off.
“Alright, now do something!” shouted Zion Johnson. He was a
gruff-looking man who seemed to be in his early fifties. His left leg was
encased in a cast. Besides Zion and the pilot, there were two other young men
in combat gear in the helicopter.
“Can’t,” said Eddie.
“Why not?” demanded Zion Johnson.
Suzy chanced a look down and could just make out a farmer on
a tractor in a cornfield staring up at them. The farmer waved.
“We’re falling almost as fast as the cube,” said Eddie. “I
can feel the field weakening, but I’m going to need a few more seconds.”
“We don’t have a few more seconds!” Zion Johnson yelled.
Eddie shrugged. “Should have taken a Cadillac,” he said. “Or
not detonated a nuclear bomb.”
Suzy saw that the farmer had gotten off his tractor and was
now fleeing through the cornfield. She could make out individual ears of corn.
She had remembered hearing something a few years back about some mutant strain
of corn that was taking over South Africa. She wondered whatever happened with
that.
The helicopter continued to fall. She could feel Eddie straining
his muscles next to her, as if he were using every cell in his body to try to
stop their fall. Then she felt a strange tingling, as the hairs on the back of
her neck were being pulled upward. She felt the descent of the helicopter slow.
“OK, now land us,” said Zion Johnson, drawing his sidearm.
“And don’t try anything or I’ll shoot the girl.”
“Doing… my… best…” Eddie gasped. “Cube… right… below us….”
“He can’t set us down,” Suzy said. “The closer we get to the
cube, the weaker his power is.” She turned to Eddie. “Can you get us higher? Or
move us horizontally away from the cube.”
Eddie’s face had turned red and sweat was pouring down his
brow. “All I can… do… to keep us… in air.”