The Second Coming of the Fallen Angel (full version) part 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
The devil is alive and well in Phoenix. And what are the two teenagers Debbie and Elaine going to do to try and save us from Armageddon?

Submitted: July 13, 2008

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Submitted: July 13, 2008

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"Don't worry," Johan said, staring at her and smiling this gooey smile. He gently squeezed and rubbed her hand. "I'll protect you until I know you're ready to fight Satan. You don't have to be scared."

She didn't move her hand and in sort of a flirty voice said: "I'm not scared now I'm here with you, Johan."

I almost puked. I never thought Debbie could be so corny. Not with any guy.

He held his glass up. "Now a toast: To the Lord's work." We clinked glasses.

Debbie downed her whiskey in one gulp, like at my house. The shocked look on Johan's face was almost comical. (I guess he didn't expect Debbie to drink whiskey at all, much less drink a shot of whiskey in one gulp without gagging.) He poured her another whiskey, which she sipped this time.

I didn't enjoy the before-dinner conversation, but Debbie and Johan did. After they had a few more drinks, they got very romantic with each other. It pissed me off. But not because I was jealous or anything, I wasn't. And I didn't care she thought Johan was cool. (I thought he was an ass hole.) What I hated was they both ignored me. I wished Brad was there - he and I could ignore them.

I got bored so I started looking around the room. It was disgustingly ritzy, and that started to get to me. I mean, Johan obviously had heaps of money, but all night he had been acting like some pious person with his prayers and everything. (Except he didn't seem very religious at the moment, with Debbie leaning over slightly towards him, and with him looking like he was about to kiss her.)

"Hey, Johan," I said.

He looked up, and Debbie sat back on her stool.

"What is it?" he said. He looked annoyed. Debbie gave me the dirtiest look.

"Are you a minister?" I said.

"No."

"But you consider yourself a man of God?"

"Absolutely."

"Then how can you justify keeping all the money you obviously need to live in this ritzy house instead of giving some of it to the poor? I thought a man of God would live more like a poor person."

"Everything I have done, I have done at God's command. If he had told me to give my money away, I would have. However, he didn't. He choose me for the express purpose of training the chosen ones. I understand my part of the prophecy. However, I doubt you understand your part. In fact, I don't understand why God chose you at all. Furthermore, Miss Baxter, you have a severe attitude problem. Frankly, you disappoint me."

I couldn't think how to answer him, so I said nothing. I think Debbie and Johan were embarrassed because they sat there all silent. It was awful. It made me think being rude to Johan hadn't been such a good idea, and I felt bad. So I apologized and the atmosphere in the room was okay again. They went back to their flirting.

I still couldn't stand watching them, so I went into the living room and tried to figure out what the Salvador Dali paintings were supposed to mean. By the time Debbie came out and told me Johan had gone to fix us Chinese for dinner, I still hadn't figured the paintings out.

* * *

The dining room we ate in was dismal. The dark marble floor and wood-paneled walls had a depressing brownness to them. What was worse, we had to eat looking at these huge depressing paintings. One was of a skinny horse being ridden by a skeleton. The skeleton had a sickle in his hand and was making the horse trample over all these people dressed up like ancient kings and queens. The people looked like they were screaming and in lots of pain. Blood was all over the ground.

Debbie pointed to the painting. "What's that one called?"

"It's by Pronvou," Johan said. "It's titled, The Horse of Death. It's based on a Der woodcut of the fifteenth century called The Four Horseman of theApocalypse."

I shivered. I had learned about those horseman in Sunday school.

The other painting was a lot more scary. It showed a dismal and dark desert with four half naked men riding horses on a road of human skulls. "That one's depressing," I said.

"I disagree," Johan said. "I choose it on purpose. It's by Delaqua. He called it, Uncertainty of Man."

"Why do you have it in this room?" I said. "You have to eat in here."

"Exactly," he said. "When I look at it, I realize I obtain my meals due to the Lord's grace. It also makes me think of your coming battle and the possibility of Armageddon." He didn't say anymore. I think he was waiting for one of us to say something intelligent.

"It's a very deep painting," I said. (He made a little half-smile, the kind a teacher makes when he doesn't like what you say but doesn't want to tell you he thought your comment was stupid.)

* * *

When we finished dinner Johan showed us the firing range in the basement.

I thought it was kind of strange he had a firing range in his house, and I guess he saw the look on my face.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not a redneck. The firing range has to do with my calling as the Man of Knowledge." (I believed him. I mean, here he was with all his guns, and he wasn't acting like a gun nut.)

The next thing he showed us was the indoor pool. (It was a small one, just big enough to do laps in.) The whole pool was covered with a glass dome, so it seemed like we were outside.

He finished his little tour by taking us up the back stairs to a room he called the guest room. It freaked me out. It was like an executive suite in a plush hotel. He left us to unpack.

After we put our stuff away, Johan took us to his study. Except for the funny black and white paintings, it was like the discussion area in our library at school. There was a whiteboard, TV, video, and overhead projector set up.

When I asked Johan about the paintings, he told me they were enlargements of drawings from an illustrated version of Dante's Paradise Lost. In one picture, Satan was sitting in the center of hell chewing on Judas. (It was weird, Satan was in a huge ice cave, and there was no fire or brimstone.) The other picture showed hundreds of lost souls, writhing all over the place in a dark overcast valley. They were being tortured by a rain of fire.

He told us to sit around a small table while he stood in front of us and started this lecture. He made little outlines on the white board as he talked.

"The basis of my power and yours," he said, "is from manipulating matter at the quantum level. Your powers come solely from science."

"Impossible," Debbie said. "I messed with the bouncer's mind. It had to be magic."

"No. What you did was rearrange the atoms in his brain."

"That's ridiculous," I said. "She'd have to be a brain surgeon to do that."

"Wrong,"Johan said. "You can mix yellow and red paint and get orange paint without knowing what is happening at the molecular level."

"Very interesting," I said. "But what's the point?"

Debbie nudged me with her foot.

"There is," he said, "but one point: You don't have all the facts because your version of the prophecy is incomplete. The part I have, and the part you need, contains the procedures for getting rid of Satan. Therefore Miss Baxter, I think you better have patience and listen to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Good." He paused, long enough to glare at me. "Now to continue. Satan has one fatal weakness: he has to come back in human form and can therefore feel pain. We will use that weakness. Elaine will first wound him with an instrument blessed with holy water. After he is wounded, Debbie can hex him and send him back to hell."

Johan opened a cupboard and brought out a gun. He put it on the table. "This is a .357 Magnum," he said. "Elaine will shoot Satan with it."

"A gun couldn't be what God had in mind," I said. "They weren't invented when the prophecy was written."

"You're right," Johan said. "However, the prophecy says you must use whatever instrument the Man of Knowledge feels is the best. I believe the .357

Magnum isthe best."

"I don't know how to shoot a gun," I said. "Maybe I should use a knife."

"I don't think you could,"he said. "If you had been paying attention before you would remember I said Satan will come back in human form. Stabbing him would be like sticking a knife in a real person. It would be up close and messy. Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Okay. You will shoot him with a .38 hollow point bullet I will bless with holy water. The bullet flattens on impact producing extremely sharp edges and will cut a big hole in Satan. The shock and pain will momentarily stun him. Then, at the exact instant the bullet goes in, you will take over his brain with a technique I’ll teach you.

After that, Debbie will hex him and send him back to hell."

I picked the gun up and aimed it at the picture of Satan. "I'll enjoy cutting lots of big holes in Satan." I said.

He took the gun off me. "God says you can shoot him only once."

"Okay," I said. "But I want to take some vials of holy water with me, just in case."

* * *

Johan pulled my target in from the end of the firing range. "Beautiful," he said. "All your shots are in the bull's-eye. How did you learn so quickly?"

"Beginner's luck."

He stared at me. "Did you use your powers?"

"Of course."

"You're not thinking, Elaine. You must never use your powers when you are handling the gun."

"Give me one good reason."

"Why do you always have to question everything?"

"I was in the Sceptics club at school."

"Well, I guess that explains it then." (He didn't say any more. I think he was waiting for me to forget about my question and simply accept I couldn't use my powers on the gun.)

"Are you going to give me a reason or not," I said.

"All right, I'll explain: You'll agree holy water is spiritual, right?"

"Yes."

"If I bless the bullets with holy water, they are spiritual, correct?"

"Yes."

"Therefore, when I put the bullets in the gun, they make the gun spiritual. With me so far?"

"Yes. God, you're touchy."

"Listen. God has allowed both man and the devil to use science, not magic, to dominate the physical world. Magic is part of the spiritual world, which only belongs to God. Therefore you can’t use your powers derived from science on a gun that is spiritual. You will be breaking God's law and the gun won't kill Satan."

"It worked on the target."

"Think, Elaine, think.Shooting targets is not a spiritual situation."

He left me to practice, which got boring because it didn't take long before I could hit the bulls-eye without using my powers. After a bit of practice, I was able to shoot from the hip like a cowboy. It was easy. I pointed the barrel as if I were pointing my finger at the target. I didn't think about it, I simply did it. I fired another six rounds, right into the bullseye.

I was cleaning the gun when Johan came back. He looked at the target. "Impressive," he said. You are ready to start your physical training."

"We have to do PE now?"

He glared at me. "Yes. Its purpose is to get you and Debbie ready for battle, and to prepare you for your vision quest."

"What vision quest?"

"The quest wherein you will lie naked in the hot desert sun to make yourself worthy of receiving the vision that will tell you the location of the final battle. Also, you can’t use your powers to get rid of the pain"

That scared me. I'm not very good about pain.

* * *

The physical training was bad. We had to do all the crap you see in movies about army boot camp. We ran through tires, climbed ropes, jumped over walls, and always finished with a four mile run. We sweated so much there wasn't a dry spot anywhere on our tank tops or shorts. (Johan made us drink quarts of some horrible electrolyte cola so we wouldn't get dehydrated.) And, after we had the cola, he made us swim thirty laps in his pool.

By the sixth day we were totally dead. We had started through the park for the final hundred yards of our run when we noticed Johan wasn't tired at all. He was running next to us talking with all the breath in the world, asking all kinds of stupid questions. All Debbie and I could do was gasp and grunt to answer. We needed every last breath for running.

"Race you," Johan said and sprinted off.

Debbie started walking. "Forget it," she said. "We gotta use our powers from now on."

We did and it worked. The next day we beat him.

"You finally figured it out," Johan said.

"Big deal," I said. "We figured out if we had kept up thispace of training without using our powers, we would have ended up less fit than when we started."

"Precisely," Johan said. "The whole reason for your physical training was to get you to realize you can apply your powers to your own bodies and improve your strength."

"Thanks for not telling us first," I said. "You really piss me off Johan."

"Don't be so immature. You're no good to God if you can't figure out things for yourself."

* * *

Our scientific training started the next day. (Johan said we had to understand the science behind our powers so they would be as strong as possible.)

Anyway, it took six days, and it was hard. We learned all about quantum physics:about baryons, mesons, and those funny names for quarks: up, down, bottom, top, strange, and charm.

When the training was over our powers were humungously strong. We could use them to start up the particle accelerator at Johan's work and run it for fifteen minutes.

We weren't doing magic, though. That took the fun away.

* * *

There was pain. I had no clothes on and had to lie down stretched over small pointy rocks. It wasn't so bad at first, but after a couple of minutes I felt like hundreds of lit cigarettes were pressing on me. I wanted to scream and scream. But I knew I had to be brave, so I cried instead.

My crying must have helped because, after a while, the individual points of sharp pain turned into a dull ache over my whole back. (The ache was awful, but at least I could stand it.)

I was distracted from my misery a little when I heard Debbie coming. She came across the desert every couple of hours to put sunscreen on me. (Johan told us the prophecy did not say the chosen one had to be cooked like a lobster.) She put the stuff all over me. When she finished, she kissed me on the forehead and left. I was alone with the burning hurt once more.

A bird landed on my foot, pooed, and started hopping up my leg toward my face. I yelled at it: "Piss off go away." The bird stopped and began flapping its wings, and suddenly I got dizzy, just like I did in the cubicle at the university when I had the other vision . . .
I was flying with the bird, circling, diving, and playing tag. I chased it as it circled around the mammoth statue of Jesus in Rio. Then the statue disappeared, and the bird and I were hovering over a sign on the I-10 in the middle of nowhere which said "Red Rock 5 Miles." The bird pointed to the sign with his wing.

I woke up. And I knew the bird was telling me I had to fight the devil in some place called Red Rock. And I hadn't even got an address. Which meant I'd probably have to have another vision when I got there. Shit.

I got up and limped back to the house. I went through the kitchen door and was about to walk across the entry when I saw Johan and Debbie standing on the stairs, kissing. They must have been on the way to his bedroom because they were very passionate. (They weren't having sex yet, but from what their hands were doing to each other, I could tell it wouldn't be long.)

I backed out of the room as quiet as I could and took the back stairs up to our room. Seeing Debbie and Johan together made me want to see Brad. And I got confused. I mean, I knew I didn't like Brad for a boyfriend, but I felt a sort of ache he wasn't there.

* * *

I was propped up in bed reading when Debbie came in. She sat in front of the mirror and started brushing her hair.

I put my book down. "Since when did you start liking older guys?"

She got all red. I could see it in the mirror. "What makes you think . . ."

"I saw you kissing him."

"When did you start spying on me?"

"I wasn't spying. I happened to walk in and you were making out with him. I only saw for a second."

"I love him," she said.

"Are you serious? He doesn't have a sense of humor even. And he's rude."

"You're wrong. You don't know him like I do. Besides, you always annoyed him."

"I suppose. Guess I didn't see what was going on."

"You didn't," she said.

"All you've got is a falling-for-your teacher crush. Which is silly. You're not the silly type."

"Maybe I should be. Maybe weshould be. God, we always paid out Julie for being silly. But she was the one having fun; she was the one with friends."

"Excuse me, we have friends."

"We think we do, but not really. All we are is outcasts."

"It's not that bad," I said.

"It is that bad, Elaine. But it isn't going to be anymore. When this crap is over I'm going to have friends. I'm going to be silly and girly and in love. I'm going to have fun."

"You've done it with him already, haven't you?"

"I told you I love him."

"Aren't you afraid he's taking advantage of the fact you think he's a hero or something? I bet he'll find somebody else the minute you're gone."

She opened her bag and tossed a big wad of money on my bed. "I don't think so," she said. "Count it."

It was all in hundreds, so it didn't take me long. "There's ten thousand here."

"He gave it to me. For spending money. He said your mother probably has reported you missing by now so if we used our credit cards, we'd be traced." She

threw a set of keys on top of the money. "These are his Ferrari keys. He said we need more than a VW to fight Satan." Then she held her finger up. "Also, he gave me this." She had a big diamond ring on.

"That's beautiful," I said.

"He said he loves me and wants to marry me. You owe me an apology, Elaine."

"All right then, I was wrong."

She put the stuff away and got in her bed. "Go to sleep. I swear, sometimes I can't talk to you."

I turned my light off but I couldn't sleep. I felt so alone it sucked. I decided I had to convince Brad to accept being just friends. I desperately wanted to hang around with him again.

* * *

Twenty-five miles out of Phoenix, we were cool. I mean, with a Ferrari you can't help but be cool. We had our shades on, the top down, and the radio blaring. Guys would pass us and gesture and whistle.

"I hope Johan's okay," Debbie said. "He looked depressed."

"He's probably worried about you."

"True. Plus, I think it's because the big job he has been preparing for all his life is suddenly over. I mean . . ."

The front tire blew. The steering wheel jerked to the right and the car started swerving all over the road. I ignored Debbie's screaming as I let off the gas and fought with the shimmying wheel. The car swerved on to the edge of the road, dust flying everywhere. I was so scared I forgot to use my powers.

Then I saw the sign, ten yards in front of us, two yards tall and wide, held up by skinny wooden legs. I heard myself scream as the car sliced the legs right through, toppling the sign on to the windshield frame. The frame bent backwards and the windshield exploded into zillions of pieces, and the air bags went off.

The car jarred to a stop. Dust blew up and away behind us.

"Oh shit," Debbie said.

We got out. The front end was all bent up so we had to pry the hood open. The cooling system was mangled.

"We'll use our powers to fix it," Debbie said.

"We can't. We have to know exactly how everything looked before the accident. Only then we can visualize . . ."

"Okay. Call a tow truck."

I punched up information. Nothing. "Damn," I said. I threw the phone into the car.

"What's wrong?" Debbie said.

"Battery's dead. We'll have to walk to Red Rock."

Before we could start walking, a car pulled up: a white four-seater convertible with a red leather interior. The driver was about thirty and wore a tan summer jacket. I figured the woman with him was his wife because there were kids in the back, a boy about eight and a girl about ten. All of them were blonde and more beautiful than humanly possible. (It was like an artist had made them up.)

"Need help?" the man asked.

"The battery in my phone is gone," I said. "Can you call a tow truck for us?"

"A pleasure," he said. He called a garage in Casa Grande. "The mechanic should be here about five-thirty. You hungry?"

"Starved," I said.

"We're going on a picnic," the woman said. "We have plenty of food. You can help us eat it."

"Yes, yes," the kids chorused. "Please come. We can play games."

"I'll get my stuff," I said.

Debbie followed me over. "Are you crazy?We don't know him."

I took my bag out of the car. "Stop worrying. He's got the Christian fish sign on his windshield, his license plate says, Jesus Saves,and he's got kids with him. What's wrong with you? Last night you were complaining you never had fun."

"Okay, Elaine, you made your point."

I checked our money was okay and made sure the gun was out of sight in my bag. Then we went over and squashed into the back seat with the kids.

"What kind of car is this?" I said.

"A Rolls," the man said, "I ordered it special."

"Jesus H. Christ," Debbie said. "What do you do?"

"Plastic surgeon." He put his hand out. "I'm Paul Black."

Debbie shook his hand first, then I did. (My first thought was I wouldn't want him operating on me, his hand felt sticky and sweaty and cold. It made me shiver.)

His wife's name was Ruth. She introduced the kids as Matthew and Mary. They had bathing suits on.

"Been swimming?" I said. They giggled.

Paul drove off and turned his CD on. It started playing Christian music and they all started singing along, the wife and kids clapping to the rhythm. But it wasn't the kind of musicyou'd clap to, so they seemed ridiculous.

After ten minutes we turned on to a back road and ended up at some picnic ground. There were lots of trees and a swimming hole. It was huge. It had real steep sides and I guessed it was the half the size of an Olympic pool.

"How deep is it?" I said.

"It's real deep in the north end," Paul said, "but the rest of it is about three and a half feet deep."

"Where's the water come from," I asked.

"From an underground stream." He parked the car.

The kids climbed out of the car, right over the top of me. Then they ran over and dive-bombed in the pool. Water splashed everywhere.

"Did you pack any suits, girls?" Paul asked.

"No," I said.

"I have extra suits," Ruth said. "My friends invariablyforget theirs." She reached under the seat and pulled them out. "Here."

"Thanks," I said. Debbie and I went behind a row of trees. We changed as we talked.

"Something's wrong," Debbie said.

"Just looks like a bunch of dorks to me."

"What I mean is," Debbie said, "things don't add up. They're disgustingly religious, but when Paul heard me swear he didn't say anything."

"Maybe he was being polite."

"No," she said. "I think goody-goody Christians would at least react to someone swearing in front of their kids. He didn't. I knowhe's Satan. Somehow we miscalculated and he's early."

"You're being paranoid."

She was silent for a second, staring at the kids playing in the water. She turned around. "God, I was stupid."

"What?'

"I figured it out." She got excited as she talked. "I looked at the book last night, but I didn’t get it until right now. You told me the prophecy said that after we zapped Satan he had to wait twenty-nine and one-half days before he could come back. The book actually meant Satan had to wait until the end of a lunar cycle."

"So? A lunar cycle istwenty-nine and one-half days long. I said twenty-nine days because it was easier to explain."

She took a little calendar out of her bag and pointed to the little moon symbols. "Here is where we screwed up."

"How?"

"We zapped the monkey on the thirteenth day of the lunar cycle, so Satan only had to wait until the end of the cycle. His waiting time was sixteen days, not a whole twenty-nine days. Today is the sixteenth day."

"Very logical," I said. "But your idea doesn't make any sense. I mean, we already saw the devil. He didn't look like Paul."

"What his voice was and what he looked like doesn't matter. The devil is the father of lies."

"I still don't believe it. Paul's a babe. No one who looks like him could be the devil."

"Being a babe proveshe's Satan."

"How?" I said.

"In Isaiah 14:12, Satan is described as the son of the morning. Plus, Ezekiel 28:12 says Satan was perfect in beauty."

"Okay. But I want to make sure before I shoot him."

* * *

I took a vial of holy water out of my bag. I then uncorked the vial, made a fist over it, and covered the top with my thumb to stop the holy water from leaking out. Debbie prepared her vial the same way. When we walked out of the trees I put my right hand on the gun. (I would shoot through my bag if had to.)

Paul's wife and kids were swimming. He was sitting next to the pool on a large rock. He still had his jacket on. Debbie got to the edge of the swimming hole and she turned toward him. "You're not going in?" she said.

"No,"he said. "I get cramps." He turned slightly away from me when he answered her. I flicked a drop of holy water on to his back.

"Hey, Elaine," Debbie said. "Watch this." She did the splashiest dive bomb I had ever seen, but the water didn't touch me or Paul. Debbie climbed out without the vial and at the same moment I looked over at Paul. There was a small hole on his suit, and it was growing. (It wasn't smoking or making any noise, so Paul didn't notice it.) The hole grew outward from the center, becoming a raggedy-edged hole about the size of a quarter.

The water in the pond started steaming and the wife and kids shrieked. Paul roared and leaped toward me. I pulled the gun out of my bag but I was so flustered I fired and hit him in the knee instead of the chest. Bits of blood, bone, and gristle flew everywhere and he screamed and fainted.

The wife and kids got to the edge of the pond. They didn't look like humans anymore, they had weasel faces and tiny red glowing eyes and long sharp teeth. They hissed at me and started climbing out. I could see Debbie trying to hex them.

I shot both kids in the head and they fell back in and sank. A circle of blood appeared on top of the water and started to spread. Before I could aim at the wife she dove under water and swam away. My hand was shaking from the adrenaline effect of shooting the kids, so when she surfaced I missed the head shot, hitting her in the shoulder. The impact threw her on her back, and she floated on the water, stunned. I didn't dare miss again, so I used both hands and aimed real careful. I fired twice. The top of her head came off, making the water an even darker red. She went under.

The water made this funny gurgling sound and little bubbles appeared all over it. The wife and kids came to the surface and starting walking toward me. Their faces had dissolved and looked like ground beef.

I shot at them but the gun was empty. I opened the box of bullets but I was shaking so much they spilled all over. I remembered I couldn't use my powers on the gun or the bullets so I concentrated on breathing slow and regular as I picked up the bullets one at a time and put them in the pistol.

The creatures got to the edge and started to pull themselves out. They were halfway out of the water when the water boiled and they fell back in. The water evaporated away into steam.

I went over to shoot them again but I didn't have to. They were lying on the bottom, smoldering heaps above the waist and all bones below the waist.

"You’ve already stuffed it," I said. "You should have hexed him when I shot him."

"I was trying to hex the demon kids," she said.

Satan moaned and Debbie ran over to him."Get over here," Debbie said. "Satan's waking up."

"You bitcheswill eat shit for this," Satan said. He had propped himself up on his elbows. "You killed my demons. I'm going to give you so much pain . . ."

I stuck the gun in his mouth and fired twice, blowing the bottom of his jaw off. He collapsed unconscious.

"Sorry," I said. "You get the pain." I wiped the splattered blood off my face.

Debbie grabbed my arm. "What're you doing? Johan told us you're only supposed to fire one shot."

I pulled my arm away. "Johan's full of shit. Look, Satan's dying. I want to make sure he suffers before I finish him off."

"You have to stop, you're breaking God's law. Because of you, I'm going to have to heal him so we can start over and . . ."

I pointed the gun at her. "Shut up. Sounds like you're on Satan's side."

"Listen, Elaine, don't you see what you're doing?"

"Yes, I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm taking out the trash." I shot Satan in the chest. He was unconscious so all he did was twitch.

"Listen to yourself: I'm taking out the trash. What movie did you get that shit from?"

"It was in Execution of the Hit Man, if you must know."

She took a step toward me. "Give me the gun."

I cocked the hammer back with my thumb. "Don't move."

"How trite," she said. The gun flew into her hand.

"You bitch."

"You better look at Satan."

I turned him over. His face was together again.

"Shit," I said. "Armageddon is going to happen and it’ll be my fault."

"Don’t be so dramatic. I’ll heal him, then when he is whole, shoot him once and we’ll do what Johan told us to do."

"I want to make sure he can’t move." I undid his pants and pulled them down around his ankles.

"God, he's weird," Debbie said. "He doesn't have any sex organs. No wonder he had a syringe full of sperm." She tied his belt around his ankles. She waved her hand over his body and the broken tissue started melting and merging together. "Get ready," she said.

Satan's knee wound healed and he jumped up. His feet got all jumbled up in his pants and he fell down.

"Shoot him," she said.

I shot him in the heart and he moaned.

"Take him apart," Debbie said.

I closed my eyes and visualized that Satan was suspended in the blackness of space. I then imagined he started spinning, getting faster and faster until he was going so fast the atoms of his body flew off him and disappeared forever into the emptiness.

I heard Debbie's voice. She said:

From your midst.
And the fire devoured you,
Turning you to ashes
Upon the earth.
I cast you into
The Lakes of Fire and Brimstone
Where you will be tormented
For 1000 years.
You shall deceive the nations no more

I felt his mind withdraw itself from my brain and he vanished. No roaring, screaming, or smoke. Nothing. The demons and the blood were gone. The pond had water in it again, and the gun had disappeared.

* * *

The highway patrol found us walking down the main road back toward Blythe. We told them we had been abducted but had gotten away before we were raped. (We also lost our powers. I guess with Satan gone, God didn't think we needed them.)

Debbie didn't want to go back to Johan yet, and I wasn't ready to see Brad either. See, we both felt really guilty about how cruel we had treated Julie and how we had thought such awful things about her. It took us a whole week of staying up all night talking about her before we realized we could feel terrible about Julie without feeling guilty at the same time.

We never went to Julie's funeral for the simple reason we didn't want to get all weepy and stuff simply because everybody else did. So we didn't go to her grave until after the funeral was over and everyone had left. Then we knew our sadness was genuine. (We felt we owed Julie that.) When we left the cemetery we knew we would be okay.

The next morning Debbie went back to Johan. She said we'd always be best friends, but I wasn't so sure. (My Dad made a big deal once about his long lost buddy coming over to see him. When the guy finally got to our house, he and my Dad didn't know what to say to each other.)

Anyway, right after Debbie left, I called Brad and told him to come over in thirty minutes. I put on my contact lenses, a pair of extremely short shorts, and a tank top. I went to the garage and put my hands into my car engine to get a bit of grease. I smeared it on me in the places Brad had noticed that time in the garage when he tried to kiss me. When I heard him coming I positioned myself so I would be bending over the engine when he came into the garage.

"Hi," he said.

I stood up from the engine just the right way so he could see my boobs. He tried to look and not look at the same time, then brought a flower out from behind his back. "I was worried . . ."

He didn't finish because I started kissing him, I mean, really kissing him. I even used my tongue, a little. He almost fell over he was so surprised. When we ended the kiss, he put his hand on the work bench to steady himself. "I'm dizzy," he said.

"Me too," I said. I put my arms around him, buried my head in the hair on his chest and squeezed him as tight at I could. He hugged me back and stroked my hair. He smelled of soap and men's cologne and cherry coke. (Being close to him gave me a funny feeling inside.)

"I've waited so long for you," he said. "I love you Elaine."

I thought the first part was pretty corny, but I really liked the last part. "I was going to ask you to be my second best friend," I said.

"Who's the first?"

"Debbie was the first, but she moved. Now you're my boyfriend, and I want you to be my first best friend too."

"Shouldn't we have rings or something?"

"We could wear best friend charms."

"Okay."

"Brad, I was joking. Guys don't wear best friend charms."

"I will if you want me to."

"I love you, Brad." I kissed him again.

It was cool. I mean, the first kiss can be a bit awkward. But with the second kiss you get the rhythm right.
THE END

"The Second Coming of the Fallen Angel" is a work of fiction, and any resemblance between the characters and any real persons living or dead is or any fictional locations is unintentional and coincidental.

THE MOST HOLY PROPHECY
PERTAINING TO THE DEMISE OF THE FALLEN ANGEL


© Copyright 2017 Barry Shrapnel. All rights reserved.

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