John Kuhn

-2001 A.D.-

         Gaalen glared at the three imps atop the building at 42^nd Street and Lexington Avenue. They huddled in some wicked conversation that he couldn't quite make out. He was sure they knew he was there watching them. He could feel their fear. Fear was strange to him, as foreign as sadness, hatred, and jealousy.

         "That's it," he muttered. "I'm going over there."

         Thaellus stood next to his friend and looked across the urban gulf. "I'll go with you."

         It took less than a second for the two of them to blaze across the expanse, swords drawn, to face their adversaries. The minor demons shrank back as soon as they saw the two statuesque warriors in front of them.

         "What do you want?" hissed one. The other two squirmed uncomfortably.

         "Why are you here?" asked Gaalen, the sheen of his sword falling right across the first demon's narrow eyes.

         "We have our reasons," the demon replied. A fierce wind whipped the tatters of his fibrous wings. "We have business in this city." His puny arms hung uselessly at his sides. He tapped thick black claws against his hip.

         "Leave us, warriors," said one of the other demons. "We're causing no harm here."

         Thaellus took a threatening step forward and all three of them recoiled. A wheezy gasp escaped the smoky throat of one.

         "You smell like sulfur," complained Thaellus. "Why don't you go to hell where you belong?"

         "We serve the prince of the power of the air, angel," replied the first demon. His leathery lip curled contemptuously. "We belong here."

         The third demon sneered. "I think the one out of place here is...you," he said.

         "Get out of here, demons," Gaalen ordered, fingering the handle of his blade impatiently. "Come back when you've grown a bit."

         The three demons, half the size of their opponents, flapped their sooty wings and stepped off the side of the skyscraper. Hovering unsteadily, the most outspoken of them said, "We'll let you go this time, angels. Next time we come here, you'd better hope we don't find you."

         Gaalen pulled his sword over his head and ran to the edge of the building; the demons scattered like smoke, vanishing in three directions, fear evident on each of their visages. Just for emphasis, Gaalen swept his blade in a deadly downward arc through the gray haze that hung where they had just floated. The sound of angelic steel sliced through the city's firmament—a great whoosh, like a giant filling its lungs—and it echoed off buildings for miles around, out of earshot to the teeming humans but loud and clear to the angels and demons that protected and threatened them.

         "Wanna chase them?" Thaellus asked, as the three demons regathered over a park some blocks away.

         "Maybe just to 50^th Street. We don't need to get too far away from Stan and Laurie."

         "True. Last one there..." Thaellus shot through the sky like a golden bolt. Gaalen smiled at his friend's competitive spirit and tore off after him. The sky shuddered with the thunderous power of heavenly warriors slivering the atmosphere.

         They were on the demons in an instant, all of whom scrambled away as quickly as they could. One, the slowest, darted to the south, while the other two shot north. A couple of miles separated them before they realized they'd been divided. The two angels held their ground over the park and watched the two quicker demons circle back to their comrade, giving Gaalen and Thaellus a wide berth.

         "We're going to Boston, idiot," said the outspoken one.

         Gaalen and Thaellus laughed at the Keystone Cops of the dark realm. But then, even as they were laughing, the lead demon circled back around and flew straight at them. He stopped at what he figured was a safe distance and sneered.

         "My name is Draal-Gorguis," he said. "You'll see me again."

         "Gorgeous, huh?" laughed Gaalen. "We'll see you again? I guess you're an up-and-comer, then?"

         "It's Draal-Gorguis, and the next time you see me, I won't be with only these two."

         Thaellus pointed the tip of his blade at the imp. "We don't fear you or your big brothers, fallen one. You and whoever you bring with you next will never be great. You'll always be fallen."

         "What is greatness, angel? Is greatness licking the feet of the One We Do Not Name? What I am, or whatever I am to become, I have chosen it, which makes me more of a god than you can ever be. You'll see who's great tomorrow, angel." And with that, the demon fled, joined by his two accomplices.

         Gaalen looked at Thaellus. "Not everyone wants to be a god," he told his friend. "Some of us are content to serve One."

         "Well, it sounds like a marketable idea," Stan said, looking across at his wife to gauge her reaction. "Do you have the means to fund this, or are you thinking of some kind of partnership?"

         The man in the suit nodded thoughtfully. "I could probably come up with some capital, but, honestly, I was hoping not to have to."

         Stan, Laurie, and the pitchman spent another fifteen minutes discussing the options for turning his software vision into a reality, and the meeting ended with handshakes all around and a "We'll be in touch" from Laurie.

         Laurie looked at Stan. "What do you think?"

         "Yeah. It's doable. It's not a big money earner, but we can do it."

         The couple had agreed a year before that when that eventual day should come—when Thompson Development, Inc., made a boatload from one of the programs they wrote—they would sell their stakes in the company they had started and retire to Connecticut. Stan had talked about going to seminary and preaching in some little church in the country, and Laurie had said she wouldn't mind trying her hand at working from home.

         Thaellus joined his friend on the roof of the Thompsons' apartment building as the couple finished their breakfast. The sun had not come up yet.

         "Where are we going today?" he asked.

         "Across town," said Gaalen. "I heard them talking about it last night. Weren't you there?"

         "Sorry, I got engrossed in the football game Stan was watching."

         The couple stepped out of the building and climbed into a car parked on the street. As the two angels flew alongside the Thompsons' Volvo—stopping often in the dense New York traffic—they talked about the previous day's encounter with the little trio of demons.

         "What did he mean that we'd see 'tomorrow'?" asked Thaellus.

         "Who knows? Probably just big talk from a small being," said Gaalen.

         The buildings got bigger as they neared their destination. "They have a meeting with a client over here. Stan's nervous about it. Apparently, it's a big deal. It might be the one he needs to finally follow the call."

         "He's hearing it, isn't he?" asked Thaellus.

         "Finally. I've been hearing it for years now. I thought he'd never open his heart."

         "What do you think took him so long?"

         "Fear. His life is safe right now. Following the call is a little...risky."

         "I wonder what it feels like," mused Thaellus. "Fear, I mean."

         "I don't know, but it must be a common tactic of the enemy. It was a constant battle with my last human." Gaalen tried to imagine the strange emotion. "Hey, do you remember your last human?" he asked Thaellus.

         "Of course. Phil Green was his name. You know what the best memory is?"

         "Yes."

         "You do?"

         "Yes. It's always the best memory. It's when they step into Heaven."

         "You nailed it. Phil's homecoming was spectacular—I'll never forget it."

         Gaalen sensed the Volvo slowing down. He looked down at Stan through the sunroof as he turned into a parking garage. Gaalen could see the reflection of two immense towers in the tinted glass.

         "Stan's afraid of something else, too, Thaellus."

         "What?"

         "Sharing his faith. He's never done it, and he doesn't think he can be a minister until he learns how. That's another reason he resists the call."

         The Volvo came to a stop in the parking garage, and the couple got out and locked the doors. The sun was up now. It was a crisp September morning, not too cold, but exhilarating and fresh. "It's going to be a beautiful day," said Stan to his wife, looking at a slice of blue sky between the gray pillars of the garage.

         "Are you ready to do this?" asked Laurie.

         "Ready as I'll ever be," he nodded. "I've got the laptop. Do you have the projector?"

         "Right here. We're all set."

         "Okay, then. To the one hundred fifth floor."

         Laurie whistled, and they set off in search of an elevator.

         The meeting was a great success. The CEO, COO, and five board members were there, and they wanted Thompson Development to take over all of their custom software needs. Daniel Garcia, the COO, had heard about them from a friend at another company, who had told him the folks at Thompson were ethical and fair, that they "underpromised and overdelivered", and that he would recommend them to anyone. Garcia mentioned them at a shareholders' meeting, and that's what set it all in motion.

         "I think it's safe to say that I'm sold," Daniel announced after the couple had finished their presentation. "It just comes down to money. For me, at least." A general chorus of support followed, and they adjourned the meeting with a verbal agreement to go into business together. The specifics of how much Thompson would get wouldn't come until later, but it was sure to be several times more than their biggest deal to date.

         Stan gave Daniel a sincere two-handed handshake as they left the conference room, but Daniel would have none of his good-bye.

         "Let me show you around. I think you'll be spending quite a bit of time here soon. Do you want to see our servers?"

         "Sure thing," Stan said. Laurie took his hand and they followed Daniel among a maze of cubicles to a closet full of giant machines. Before they got much of a chance to study the servers, though, Daniel's eyes lit up with a sudden realization.

         "There's an observation deck on the top floor. Have you guys ever been in here before?"

         "No," said Laurie.

         "Nope," agreed Stan. "I've been by many times, but this is the first time I've come inside."

         "Really? Well! Some New Yorkers you are! Well, come on. You've got to see this!"

         Daniel wandered politely away from the couple as they wound their arms around each other's waist and looked out on the most famous city in the world. Laurie sighed and snuggled up to her husband.

         "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

         "I think it went well in there. You were terrific."

         "No, you were terrific."

         "We're terrific."

         "Yeah. We are. We make a good team."

         "It's been a wonderful ride, hasn't it?"

         "Wonderful, Laurie. Yes."

         Silence.

         "Laurie?"

         She turned her head and looked up into his eyes. "What is it, dear?" she asked.

         "I'm ready to make a change. I'm ready to go preach."

         She looked out the window. "I know you are, Stan. God can use you."

         Stan and Laurie leaned on each other in silence and thought about the import of those words. Soon, Daniel eased back over to them. "What do you think?" he asked, smiling as though it were his first time up there too.

         "Beautiful," he said, looking at his wife.

         "Amazing," she replied.

         As the couple and their new friend took one last look through the huge windows of the observation deck, the two angels hovered just beyond the limits of their vision, outside the glass.

         "Look at them," smiled Gaalen. "They think they're on top of the world."

         "They'll be a lot higher than this one day. They'll laugh when they remember how great they thought this view was."

         The angels surveyed the city. They could see nearly all of it. Something caught Thaellus' eye: a black swarm rolled slowly in from the north, high in the sky.

         "What is that?" he asked.

         "Demons," whispered Gaalen. "Thousands of them."

         Both angels drew their swords. It seemed quite an insufficient response. Suddenly, they were joined by perhaps a thousand fellow soldiers of light, the protectors of the believers inside the building. They formed a line along the north side of the tower, weapons at the ready.

         "We're outnumbered," said Thaellus.

         "We're never outnumbered," Gaalen reminded him, conviction giving his voice an edge.

         The demon cloud approached with a wicked clamor. Inside the horde demons jostled and surged. They fought one another in the midst of their gang, hacking with jagged blades and bludgeoning one another with maces blackened in the very fires of hell. Gaalen looked resolutely into the advancing storm, scanning the awful faces of those who rejected all good.

         Suddenly, just below him and to the north, he saw the chief of the three-demon party from the day before. Their eyes met. The small demon trembled with fear, or excitement, or both. He held up the curved blade of his dagger and pointed it at Gaalen.

         Gaalen heard his whisper clearly through the commotion of impending war. "Watch this," the demon hissed with nefarious glee. "You wouldn't believe the things I've been whispering in my human's ear."

         "We don't fear you, minor being," Gaalen replied. His words cut through the din and dove straight into the piggish ears of Draal-Gorguis.

         "You should," the demon replied. "Do you hear that? My human is coming."

         Gaalen and Thaellus looked up and saw it. A silver giant thundered through the sky, straight toward them. Straight toward the building. It was a Boeing 767, tail number N334AA. The demons parted ways to clear a path for it, and Gaalen read the huge red letters on its side as it neared: "American". He clenched his sword and flew directly to Stan inside the building. Thaellus flew to the side of Laurie.

         The sheer violence of the shudder that ran up the building's columns sucked the breath out of Stan and Laurie. Both of them fell to the floor with the impact, but Daniel managed to steady himself and stay on his feet.

         "What was that?" Stan asked his host, pushing himself to his feet.

         "I don't know," Daniel replied, his voice too thin. "I have no idea." Cries of dismay rose from several people on the observation deck. One woman screamed, "A plane! It was a plane!"

         "What?" someone near the Thompsons asked.

         "A plane hit the building," another man shouted. "A big airliner."

         A cacophony arose, a tragic aural bouquet, as clumps of people debated what they should do next.

         "Don't take the elevators!" one man called. Dozens broke out their cell phones and tried to call for help, to little avail.

         "Let's get out of here," Daniel said. "We'll take the stairs. It's a long, long way down." He looked at Laurie's high heels. "You'll be better off without those." She kicked them off and carried them in her hands.

         In the stairwell, they smelled smoke. Fumes from jet fuel stung their eyes.

         "We're not going to be able to get through the fire," muttered Stan.

         "Maybe we will. It may be localized," said Daniel.

         "We have to try," said Laurie. "What other option is there?"

         "We could go to the roof," Stan offered. "Maybe helicopters will come for us."

         Daniel shook his head. "Too high. Too much wind. They've told us that a hundred times in our safety meetings. We have to go down."

         When they got back to the 105^th floor, Daniel paused.

         "I think this is where we part ways, friends. I have to go back to the office and check on my friends." Stan thought about sharing his faith with Daniel right there, but he was afraid. He offered his hand.

         "God bless you," was the best he could do.

         "Yeah," said Daniel. "You too." He turned and sprinted up a dark and smoky hall, holding his shirt over his mouth and nose.

         Stan and Laurie shuffled down one more flight of stairs after Daniel left them, bumping into countless people and stopping to help more than a few to their feet. Finally, the smoke got too thick and they turned back.

         "What are we going to do?" asked Stan.

         "Trust God," his wife replied in a surprisingly calm voice. Stan looked at her; she bore the sweetest expression on her face that he'd ever seen on another person. It practically shone through the blackening smoke. He thought of Moses' face when he came down the mountain.

         Stan stopped in the middle of the stairs and grabbed her shoulders.

         "I love you," he said, as clearly and deliberately as he could. He kissed her there, with a hundred desperate people shoving past them, and he felt her tears and his gather warm and wet around their mouths.

         He pulled his face back and looked into her eyes. "You are..." he began, but he choked up.

         "What?" She was crying openly now, her body lurching with sadness and joy, with the knowledge of her own death, with divine anticipation and a pinch of frailty and regret.

         "You are...Proverbs 31," he told her. She smiled through the tears and wrapped her arms around his neck.

         They stood there forever.

         "Let's go," he finally said. "Let's get out of here."

         She didn't care where they went. She knew what was coming. He took her back to Daniel's floor. As they left the stairwell, heat struck them hard in their faces. Smoke poured out of the building through a broken window, and Stan caught sight of a man stumbling wildly through it. He hoped Laurie hadn't seen.

         "Have you seen Daniel Garcia?" Stan asked someone near what he thought was his office. "Have you?" He asked until he found him. Daniel was in the same conference room where they'd first met, huddled with his friends and coworkers around a single flashlight.

         "Daniel?" Stan called over sobs.

         "Yeah, I'm here," Daniel called back.

         "Daniel, it's me, Stan. Remember me?" He was having trouble breathing now. It was incredibly hot.

         "You're back?" Daniel spoke breathlessly, panting the words.

         "There was no getting through."

         "What are you going to do?"

         "I don't know. What are you going to do?"

         "I don't think there's anything to do. Wait for help, I guess."

         Stan made his way to the man. Soot covered both of their faces. Laurie followed her husband, holding his hand tightly.

         "Daniel," Stan said, his voice very nearly a whisper. "Do you...Do you know Jesus?"

         Gaalen braced Stan's back with the flat side of his sword and held him up. He laid a strong hand on his shoulder for unseen encouragement.

         "You can do it, Stan," the angel whispered.

         "I know about Him," Daniel said. "I wouldn't say we're close." He looked Stan directly in the eye when he said it. He didn't cry; he didn't look away. There was no shame there, only honesty.

         "Would you like to?"

         Daniel's eyes darted away suddenly. He ran a hand through his hair. After a moment, he looked at Stan. "No one's...No one's ever asked me that before." Stan could barely see Daniel in the dimness.

         Daniel laughed shortly. "What would God think of that? Huh? 'Sure, now you want to be a Christian.'"

         Stan looked at his new friend tenderly. "I don't think that would be His first thought."

         "No? Doesn't it seem kind of unfair to you? This is the first time anyone has asked me the question you just asked, but it's not the first time I've heard it, you know? He's asked me."

         Daniel buried his face. "He's asked me before," he sobbed into his dirty palms.

         Stan reached out a hand and grasped his shoulder. He was drenched with sweat. "Daniel," he said softly, "I think His first thought would be, 'Welcome home, son.'"

         Daniel looked up and smiled through tears and darkness. "Like the prodigal son, huh?"

         "Yeah. Just like that."

         Gaalen and Thaellus hovered over the twosome and fended off a flurry of black-winged horrors. No demon came close to affecting what was going on between them.

         Daniel weighed matters privately for a moment. Something groaned, but he wasn't sure if it was the building or his heart. He looked at his new friend.

         "Yes. To answer your question, yes. I would like to know Him personally."

         Stan and Daniel knelt in the devastated conference room. The floor was hot under their knees, and a fine gray powder covered them and everything around them. Laurie knelt beside them and prayed her own prayer.

         "The building is full of them," cried Thaellus, over the racket of warfare and fire. "They're everywhere."

         "Hold your line," Gaalen cried. "Just hold what you've got."

         Silver blades streaked through the soot hanging on the air and lit the holy circle below them. The angels stole glances upward during their fight and caught sight of prayers ascending to Heaven, a stream of hope like an inverted cascade. It was beautiful: the blinding glory of a man renewed tucked among the horrors of hatred's desolation.

         The first crumbling began then, slowly and gently. Some of the windows ran like molasses; ceiling tiles fell in pieces, like burning ticker tape.

         The men finished their prayer, and Daniel hugged his friend. "You should've been a preacher, Stan," he whispered. Stan cried when he heard it. He wiped away a sooty tear, patted Daniel's back and pulled himself away, drawing close to his wife. She rested her hot forehead against his grimy neck.

         "You didn't leave me," she whispered. "You never left me, not for a minute."

         "I never will," he said, his voice all but gone.

         As Gaalen and Thaellus fended off their demonic attackers, a white blade suddenly cut through the thickness of demons.

         "Someone's come to help us," Thaellus cried. Gaalen ran his blade through a foul creature's abdomen and looked up.

         "Good," he shouted. "We could use the help."

         Suddenly, the demons fell back. In unison they belched a horrific shriek of victory and flew away from the battle with dissonant cries of wicked acclamation.

         A smallish angel greeted Gaalen and Thaellus—the one they had glimpsed fighting his way toward them.

         "Who are you?" asked Thaellus, wiping black bile from his weapon.

         "I am Jhilael, a protector. I'm looking for Daniel Garcia, a new soul."

         "That's him," said Gaalen, nodding at the human kneeling quietly below.

         "What do I do?" asked the new protector.

         The assembled angels and humans felt the building give one last shudder in its fight against gravity. They heard a noise like a thousand trains riding the waves of an earthquake above them, as the floors collapsed on one another.

         "Just hold him," said Gaalen quickly, sweeping down to his man and wrapping his wings around him. Thaellus grabbed Laurie tightly in his strong arms, and the new protector pulled Daniel's head to his chest. The building fell around them, but a Moses glow found its way onto all three of the humans' faces.

         Not one speck of dust struck them as they fell.

         And fell.

         And fell.

         Bodies hurtled past them, and columns and beams, office furniture and shards of steel and plastic and glass, and lots of paper, and burning things. But nothing touched them. Nothing even grazed them, in all the chaos of the collapse. And they didn't exactly fall. They floated.

         Then suddenly, they stopped falling. And they began to fall up.

         Up and up and up, in the arms of unseen angels, past all the debris and the great cloud of dust that rose high, but far shy of Heaven; past the expanse of the New York sky; past all that Hubble can see; past the stars; beyond deep space, to a place that made the universe look like it could fit inside a thimble. And the darkness seemed so small, like nothing but a speck in the light.

         They fell up still, uncertain if they were dead or alive, uncertain if up was still up, and they kept falling until they were in a place they couldn't imagine, a place they couldn't name, a place so beautiful that they couldn't breathe, so perfect that it made them want to die. And still they fell, until slowly—imperceptibly—they became still in the midst of a place that left them...

         ...speechless.

         And then they saw Him. For the first time, they saw Him.

         And they could think only one thought, The Thought, the indescribably beautiful thought, more beautiful even than that place, a singular notion fraught with more meaning than all the words ever uttered in the history of earth—the wonderful thought they would entertain for eternity.

         He is.

          "I guess I did a pretty lousy job of protecting him," said Jhilael, watching the human soul he'd been entrusted scan his new surroundings.

         "No," said Thaellus and Gaalen together.

         "You did your job perfectly," Gaalen said. "Look at them. This is the moment you'll never forget, little one. It's the best part of the job."

 

 

Copyright 2007, John Kuhn

John Kuhn is a writer of speculative fiction and poetry from Texas. He's also the proud winner of the 2006 DKA Magazine poetry contest. Look for his works online at Son and Foe Magazine, KidVisions, and Dragons, Knights, & Angels Magazine, and in the pages of Turnpike Gates, The Sword Review, Kaleidotrope, Bleeding Quill, Blood Moon Rising, and The Mythic Circle. You can check out his blog at < johnkuhn.blogspot.com >.

 

    

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For more information visit www.dkamagazine.com. This work appears as part of Issue 42, March 2007.

                                                     

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