Chapter 35
"We should go around," Gabriel said, glancing at the compass rose on the Prophets' hand and then at the map which rustled in the warm desert wind. "Every major city we've come to so far has been a death zone."
"We have Gunn with us now," Audrey said without even looking up from the map. "The burden to protect is not yours alone."
Defiance. The Prophets gift.
"Just because something is possible," Gabriel chided her, "does not mean it is wise. Every time we've gone into a city, we've been attacked."
"The fourth disciple is here," Audrey said, turning finally to look at him, her eyes distant and haunted. "Time is growing short. Even as we gather the disciples and sow support amongst the people to defend the Savior, the Grigori are gaining strength. The day of reckoning approaches. We are running out of time."
A chill went through Gabriel's soul, making its presence felt by making his physical shell shiver even though the late-spring sun warmed the desert. Last night's vision had been a particularly bad one, the Prophet inconsolable even once dawn had re-awoken her from her second, natural sleep. She had scratch marks on her arms, even his embrace unable to protect her from the wounds of the future she was forced to bear witness to each night from reaching through and scarring her in the present. She never revealed to him the exact nature of the event which had her sobbing his name each night as her vision ended, but he knew. He knew each night she was forced to witness his death and that it caused her grief.
"I will fly above the city to survey potential threats," Gabriel said, reaching out to touch her cheek next to her beautiful, velvet-blue eyes that, although so very young, had begun to carry the weight of years far beyond the knowledge that could be attained during a dozen mortal lifetimes. "Gunn will stay behind to protect you."
Within the past week Audrey had turned nineteen. Although they still joked that she was very young and he an old man in existence for billions of years, at some point they had all begun to realize that the consciousness which worked through her made him look young in comparison. It was a weighty burden for such a young woman to bear.
He slid his palm down her cheek and brushed her lips with his thumb, the gesture he now used when he wished to communicate to her that if things had been different, at that moment he would have kissed her if it hadn't meant his control would break and cause her soul to be condemned to eternal suffering in the Keep of Sheol the way he knew in his now-mortal bone marrow that his had already been condemned. It was only fitting that when his mission to protect her was finished, he would receive the same punishment as the brother he had obediently thrown into the pit. The punishment he had believed at the time to be … just … even though losing Lucifer had broken his heart.
Hope. His only hope was to protect the Prophet from suffering the same fate as Lucifer's mortal wife and offspring, to be condemned to suffer inside the walled city of Sheol, to watch the ones you loved be tormented again and again and again by the heavenly host until nothing but insanity remained, to watch their physical form become twisted and deformed by the foul vapors which exuded from the Keep until they become unrecognizable. It had not been obedience preventing Gabriel from defying the heavenly Father and taking Audrey to be his wife for quite some time now. It was fear of having the same thing happen to her.
Hope. Audrey's visions only confirmed what he already knew. His death and condemnation was inevitable. His only hope to prevent that which he feared most was to help her line up the pieces she led them to find so that, when the Savior matured enough to assume the mantle of leadership from the Father of this world, the Savior would protect her. It was too late for him, but it was not too late for her.
Hope. That fateful night on the cliff, he had asked the young man why he continued to fight, to protect a condemned child that was not even his, when he knew there was no hope. Gabriel now had his answer. He understood.
Audrey reached up to touch his hand and hold it to her face, sliding her fingers down the back of his hand and brushing her thumb across the thumb he had just brushed across her lips. Although they never spoke of the gesture, he hoped in her mind that she was returning his kiss. Warmth spread through his heart. Although Audrey had never said the words, he knew she now bore him at least some small affection. It was not entirely a one-sided love.
"Be careful," the Prophet said, breaking away from his gaze and looking once more at the map. "People around here still seem to have ammunition for their guns. You're an easy target when you're airborne."
"I will," Gabriel whispered. Reluctantly, he tore himself away from her presence and cast himself into the sky, taking to the lazy New Mexico currents which carried him aloft above the ruined city of Santa Fe.
Endless suburbs spread out beneath him, a hideous urban sprawl of burned out houses and strip malls, abandoned and devoid of greenery. They had ridden the train from Alamosa to the end of the line at Al Veda, several days hike north of the city. The heavenly host had seen fit to compel those they possessed to destroy the system of reservoirs and dams which flowed from the foothills, denying the cities below their only source of water. Some survivors had fled north to the rails which now existed to shuttle trade goods between rural areas such as Alamosa and the refugee camps which had sprung up along what few supply routes remained, but most in the cities had simply died. If not by the hand of the heavenly host, then of the starvation, sickness and thirst which had followed.
Petroleum no longer trickled through to this area in trade, the desert cities containing no natural resources post-apocalyptic humanity valued. Knowledge. The Reverend had explained that Santa Fe was a city which had sprung up to support the knowledge nurtured in the nearby top-secret government laboratory at Los Alamos. Scientists. Engineers. Physicians. A city with the highest IQ of any city on the planet. Genius aimed at one common goal, to create weapons that destroyed. Santa Fe had sprung up to provide distractions to nurture that knowledge, allowed those who created weapons to dabble in the arts and pretend the work they did had a purpose other than to kill.
Genius hadn't helped humanity. They had caught glimpses of Los Alamos nestled in the little valley of the mountain road they had travelled and decided avoiding the blackened impact-crater of a town would be prudent. No survivors had trickled into the refugee camps to the north, only whispers of the possessed unleashing the weapons they had created upon the residents of the town. Los Alamos was not where the compass rose directed them to go, so they avoided it.
Boy-men with guns patrolled the rooftops in one section of the city, the colorful blue clothing they wore declaring their allegiance to a gang. Further into the city, a rival gang wore purple. One of them took a pot-shot at him from the distance and missed. Gabriel made a mental note of where the ruffians appeared to be most concentrated so they could avoid those sections of the city. He banked his wings to the left, relishing the feel of the warm wind whistling through his feathers at different rates of speed as he turned, and headed back to their party. Never could he remember the simple pleasure of flying feeling so … real … in all his years as an agent of the Father.
Of course that was the area of the city the Prophet led them straight into…
"We're being watched," the Reverend said. "I can feel their eyes upon my back."
Gabriel sniffed the air, the senses of even a mortal angel still far superior to that of humans. "I can smell them," he said.
"I hope they don't smell like the ones back in Al Veda," Lena chipped in with forced cheerfulness. "It doesn't matter how much after shave you wear. If you don't bathe, you stink."
"Shhh…" Gunn hissed, the forward set of his shoulders and intense way his eyes scanned the low, burnt-out commercial buildings they walked past now indicating that he, too, sensed the threat. Gabriel felt a sense of approval. As a combat veteran, Gunn had been a valuable addition to their group.
"Water is scarce here," the Reverend whispered. "No water to bathe or dispose of human waste. Only to drink and water small gardens."
Gunn moved into position as point man, his hand reaching down to slip the safety off his holstered revolver. Audrey, Lena and the Reverend huddled in the middle. Gabriel took his customary position at the back and loosened the straps holding his mace.
Weapons weren't their only defense. The Reverend had taken to wearing his ministerial vestments, his plain black shirt and small white square on the collar quelling the instinct of many people they met to simply shoot them all on sight and be done with it. It was a tool which had served them well, but the gang barrios were a godless bunch. Gabriel wondered why they had been spared by the heavenly host when so many hard-working, god-fearing innocent people had been killed.
It was a question the Prophet had been obsessing over lately. Why so many seemingly godly people had become possessed, while other ungodly people such as herself had been spared.
The wind shifted and brought the musky stench of unwashed bodies to Gabriel's nostrils closer this time. A slight rustle to his rear betrayed the position of the hooligans creeping along at his rear, watching them, but not yet acting. Human behavior had remained unchanged for as long as humanity had existed. Whoever stalked their position now would report to the alpha male and gather their forces before striking.
"What, exactly, are we looking for again?" Lena asked nervously.
"The fourth disciple is a Messenger of the Lord," Audrey recited the message which had come after her vision the night before. "For as the lightning comes from the east and flashes to the west, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be."
"That's pretty cryptic," Lena replied. "We're looking for a lightning bolt?"
"Mathew 24:27," the Reverend said. "Perhaps a sign or corporate logo of a lightning bolt?" The Reverend then turned to Gabriel. "Gabriel … did any of those gang signs you saw have a lightning bolt on it?"
"No," Gabriel replied. "Not that I was able to see."
"Maybe lightning will strike close to where we're supposed to find this disciple?" Gunn asked, adding his two sense into the speculation.
"All of Audrey's messages so far have sounded cryptic when we've first heard them," the Reverend said, "but they've all turned out to be quite mundane. We should look for a literal meaning first."
"But keep our minds open just in case …." Lena added. She then made an eerie sound old B-grade movie soundtracks used to make when a UFO was about to land.
"Shhh…" Gabriel warned. "Footsteps. A lot of them. Up ahead. We're about to have a showdown."
A showdown occurred every time they encountered another human being, whether they were alone or in a group. Humanities trustful nature had been irrevocably shattered. Whether it was a store clerk at a still-operating trading post, a little old lady at a house they were drawn to, or a group of people within a settlement or refugee camp, humans were now prone to shoot first and ask questions later. The first few moments of any showdown were critical to determining whether they would find friends who would aid them in their journey, or foes who would mow them down out of greed or fear.
A group of around 30 boy-men and a few young women cockily strode around a street corner around 300 feet ahead and then stopped, as if posing for a photograph. Behind them, a similar number shuffled out and did the same thing. Most of the youth were Hispanic, with a few African-American and white kids thrown in. All wore some accoutrement of royal blue clothing and ranged from their mid-teens to mid-20's.
"The alpha male," Gunn whispered, cocking his head slightly towards a twenty-something young man in the middle who the rest of the gang kept subtly glancing to for direction. "The gang leader."
The group of disciples froze and assumed a ready stance, not too threatening, but ready to move into any fighting position that proved necessary. Gunn kept his hands in plain sight, but was poised and ready to pull his revolver, having scrounged up some bullets for it in La Veda. Gabriel ever-so-slightly flared his wings. An implied threat. Alpha-male making itself known to alpha-male.
"You's all infringin' upon Surenos territory," the gang leader said, making an odd gesture with his hand that the Reverend had explained was a type of shorthand gang members used to communicate amongst themselves. A challenge.
"We come seeking the Messenger of the Lord," the Prophet said, stepping forward. It was not just her mortal voice Audrey spoke with now, but that spark of the divine Gabriel had recognized and clung to the first time she had ever spoken to him and told him to 'get up, you jackass.'
"You their leader?" the gang leader asked, looking at Audrey, and then at Gabriel, and then at Gunn. He made another signal of some sort with his hands. There was subtle movement amongst the gang members, but no obvious threat.
"We lead each according to the task each one is capable of performing," the Prophet said cryptically. "For as the lightning comes from the east and flashes to the west, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be."
"You wear the insignia of gang signs," the gang leader said, making a hand movement for the others to stay and then taking three steps forward towards Audrey and stopping. "What gang you'all follow?"
"We serve the Savior," Audrey said, also taking three steps forward and stopping, "who came back into this world one and a half years ago."
Gabriel fully flared his wings, ready to pounce at a moments' notice and protect her if things headed south. Audrey had begun taking the lead more and more since leaving Alamosa when initially meeting new groups of people, but this was the first time she had done so with a group that was so blatantly dangerous.
"You see anyone getting saved around here?" the gang leader scoffed, making another sign with his hands. Behind him and also the second group behind theirs, the gang members twittered as if on cue.
"You survived the heavenly host," Audrey stated, gesturing towards the burned out buildings which surrounded them, their broken, blackened windows staring at them like the eyes of a skull. "Intact," she added.
The gang leader made another subtle hand gesture and then stepped another five steps closer to Audrey before stopping and posing once again, a pose of defiance, but the young man was now close enough that Gabriel could read the emotions upon his face. Fear.
"What do you know of the heavenly host?" the gang leader asked, glancing first at her, and then at Gabriel.
"The Father grew weary of mankind," Audrey said, taking five steps closer to the gang leader and stopping. "He sent his heavenly host down to torment the weak and turn them against the strong."
"Angels," the gang leader spat out. "Like him!" He took one step back. As if on cue, the gang members in both groups crouched, ready to strike.
"Not like him," Audrey said, standing her ground. "The heavenly host possess no physical form. Their only power is to torment the minds of the weak and compel them to attack the strong."
"Didn't look that way to me," the gang leader snarled. "People's limbs dislocated and they started walking up walls and shit. Killed everyone around them!"
"And yet you survived," Audrey said, taking two steps forward. "Your sanctuary was unharmed, wasn't it?"
The gang leader regarded her carefully for a moment. "Yes."
"That is because a disciple of the Savior resides amongst your midst," Audrey said. "The heavenly host cannot enter the sanctuary of those chosen by the Savior to walk at his side."
Gabriel knew this last tidbit of information was merely a guess. He had been sent to kill the Savior after Charlie had given birth to him because the heavenly host was unworthy to bask in the presence of the Savior. No host had entered the Reverend's chapel, Lena's gay bar, or Gunn's biker headquarters where they had been when the host had struck. Only an archangel could enter their presence, a spark of divinity he could sense, even now, even though he had fallen from grace.
"Where is this Savior of yours?" the gang leader sneered, taking another step back. He wasn't buying it. Although the young man was in a position of authority, Gabriel could not hear that hint of the divine. This was not the person they sought.
"You declare I wear the signs of a gang," Audrey said, shifting tactics and pointing to the tattoos visible on her forehead and arms. "What do these signs say of this Savior to you?"
"I cannot read them," the gang leader said.
"But you have seen them before, yes?" Audrey said, taking another step closer.
"Yes," the gang leader said.
"The Messenger of the Lord resides in your midst," Audrey said. "You must take me to him. He will be able to tell you the meaning of the signs."
Audrey and the gang member both stood there, several feet from one another, not moving. The other members of the gang shifted nervously behind the gang leader. Gabriel crouched, ready to take to the air, and subtly shifted his mace so he could pull the handle in one movement. Gunn's fingers clenched, ready to pull his gun and knife. The Reverend lost his 'ministerial preacher pose' and moved into a fighting stance. Lena … Lena couldn't fight worth a hill of beans.
The gang leader made his decision. He shifted his position, making another one of those subtle hand signals, and then took the last three steps forward to meet Audrey in the middle, extending his hand to offer a strange handshake, not hand-to-hand, but forearm to forearm.
"I will take you to meet my brother," the gang leader said.
Behind him, the gang members relaxed. Behind Gabriel, the second group of gang members relaxed. The gang leader gestured finished some sort of handshake with Audrey, which she fumbled with a bit but managed to complete, and then gestured for them to follow.
Gabriel relaxed somewhat, but not completely. Audrey walked trustingly next to the gang leader, but the Reverend signaled for the rest of them to trail a distance back from the two chosen to represent each group, obviously some kind of gang protocol the Reverend had learned during his prison ministry at the Clark County Jail. Keeping his wings flared in case he needed to pounce and carefully scrutinizing the lesser gang members for trouble, they followed the gang leader to go meet the fourth disciple.