Hack woke with a start, and quickly looked over at the bed.
Ruthie was asleep. But Ben was wide awake, lying there quietly with a half-smile on his face, watching him.
Ben put a finger to his lips to ask for silence, then began easing out of the bed, taking care not to wake Ruthie.
Hack leapt to his feet with a gasp. No!
Ben gave him a stern look, repeating his shush-ing motion. He got out of bed with no difficulty, then looked comically appalled at finding himself dressed in an oversize nightshirt - presumably Gabriel's - and worse yet, an adult diaper. Hack grabbed a robe of Ruthie's and handed it to him. He looked at it dubiously, shrugged, and solved his immediate problem by putting it on.
Hack was shaking like a leaf, but when Ben silently indicated they should go into the next room, he didn't try to overrule him. Ben was a trifle unsteady on his feet. But he made it to Ruthie's table with a minimum of help.
When he was settled at the table, the first thing he said was, "Do we have anythin' to eat, Pa?" There wasn't much, but Hack found him a candy bar and a bottle of Nehi. He watched, dazed, as Ben devoured the candy and licked the last of the chocolate off his fingers.
"That's better." Ben gave a contented sigh. "Sorry I had to eat right away, Pa. I really needed it." He reached across the table to clasp Hack's hands. "What I shoulda said first is that I'm so grateful - to you, an' Ruthie, an' Gabe - for takin' care o' me! I love you all. An' you, Pa - somehow, I know you saved my life."
Hack was still shaking. "Forget about us. What happened? Are you - are you really all right? If you are, where did the life-force come from?"
Ben frowned. "Okay, listen. One little problem is that there were all kinds o' things I understood an' wanted to tell you last night - or whenever it was. Before I went back to sleep. I just couldn't stay awake. An' now I think there's a lot I've forgotten. Like dreams you can't remember when you wake up in the mornin', y'know?
"But I do have the important things straight. To begin with, I am all right. Nothin' wrong with me now 'cept that I'm a little weak from not havin' eaten enough lately. I should be able to go back to work in a couple days."
"A...couple...days?" Hack still couldn't believe it.
"An' there was no life-force taken from anywhere. None needed." Ben knit his brow. "As I understand it, that's 'cause the problems I was havin' weren't natural, they were caused by an attack. I mean an attack by enemies, usin' some kind o' psychic powers."
Hack thought incredulously, He learned that in his sleep? Aloud, he said, "I knew it was a psychic attack. If I'd been here when it started, I could have shown you how to fight it off. But the Templars led me to believe that once damage had been done, it wasn't any different from a natural illness."
"This, uh, gets complicated," Ben told him. "I'm sure I understood it better last night. For starters, recoverin' from one o' those attacks don't need no life-force. The enemy has to do a lot o' work to keep your heart or lungs damaged, or whatever. If they let up, you snap back to normal.
"But it makes sense that the Templars didn't know that. If an enemy was doin' it to you an' got sick o' toyin' with you, he'd just kill you. Poof, you'd be gone.
"The thing with me is that I'm different, somehow." Ben looked perplexed. "Not just different from folks like Ruthie, different from you, too. Did you know that?"
Hack shook his head. "No."
"For some reason, enemies who attack me with psychic powers can't kill my human form -" Ben stopped abruptly. " 'Human form'? That's creepy...I don't know why I said that. What I mean is, they can't kill me directly like they could you. Only indirectly, if I give up an' let myself die to escape what they're doin' to me. Does that make sense? They could torture me for twenty years if they wanted to, but they couldn't kill me if I kept hangin' in there.
"Last night I realized that, somehow. It was like I remembered somethin' I'd forgotten. Once I understood, there was no chance I'd ever give up. An' the enemy knew that. They could've decided to keep torturin' me for years. But that would tie them up, keep them workin' their tails off for nothin', when they could be spendin' their time in more profitable ways.
"So like I told you last night, it's over. I'm sure they'll never try it again."
Hack was stupefied.
When he found his voice he asked, "What would have happened if one of us had tried to use our healing powers?"
"I ain't sure," Ben said grimly, "but it wouldn't have been good. Maybe nothin' woulda happened, except that we woulda sinned by riskin' injury to other people. Or maybe we woulda hurt someone, an' not helped me at all.
"I know one thing. If it was you that tried, it woulda tipped Management off that you're here."
Hack shuddered. That would have been a disaster, with Ben fighting for his life.
Ben is different even from me, he mused. No doubt about it.
What made him call his body his "human form"? He's my son. If he's not human, what is he?
Hack was aware he'd had previous incarnations. But as far as he knew, he'd always been human. In every life he remembered, he'd been a Templar. That was an affiliation to be proud of in some time periods, a source of shame in others.
What was it Ben told me? "Somehow, I know you saved my life." I didn't take that seriously when he said it, but maybe I should have.
And later, he said he thinks he remembered something he'd forgotten...
What reminded him of whatever it was?
He recalled handling that Tarot card, and thinking of another King of Swords card that bore another picture. A "general," a very special one, honored as a saint.
The only saint Hack knew of who wasn't a human being.
What if Ben's memories were triggered not by Appy's Tarot card itself, but by his touching it and picking up the thought I'd had when I touched it?
"Ben," he said slowly, "do you remember the shield you kept talking about last night?"
"Shield?" Ben clearly hadn't thought of it till that moment. His eyes narrowed. "Yes! The shield is important. It's as if...as if I always have it with me, even when I can't see it. It's part of who I am."
"What does it look like?"
"Look like? It...it don't always look the same. It looks the way people expect it to look, just like -" He broke off.
"What were you going to say?"
Ben seemed uncomfortable. "I almost said 'just like I do.' That don't make no sense!"
In the here and now, no, Hack reflected. But there have been other places, other times. He asked carefully, "Any writing on the shield?"
Ben opened his mouth to give a quick answer, then stopped to think. At last he nodded. "Yeah. There is somethin' on it. I think it's important, but I don't know the language."
"Can you tell me what the words look like?"
Ben was deep in concentration. "Three words. Short words...okay, I've got it. Quis ut Deus. Can you make sense outta that?"
"Quis ut Deus," Hack whispered. "And you're sure...you're sure this was your shield."
"Is my shield," Ben corrected him. "Do you know what it means?"
Hack hesitated, then reached a decision. "Yes, I know. But, Ben, I think that if you were meant to know at this time, you'd remember it. It doesn't mean anything bad. On the contrary, it's very good. Will you be content, for now, with my telling you that?"
Ben was staring at him. "The way you put it...what will you do if I say I ain't content?"
Hack flinched. Then he met Ben's eyes and said, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
With that, I've already told him he outranks me.
Ben squeezed his hand and said gently, "That's enough, Pa. I'll remember the rest when I'm meant to."
Yes, I'm sure you will.
For his own part, Hack would never forget it.
Quis ut Deus. Latin for "Who is like God."
"Who is like God." The cry of the angels in their war against Satan at the beginning of time. The motto emblazoned on the shield of their leader. But also, his very name. Ben said that shield is "part of who I am"...
"Who is like God." Its meaning has always been veiled in mystery. Was it a question? If so, was it meant as a rebuke to the demons who dared deny His authority? Or as a rallying cry to the angels, urging them to emulate His goodness?
Or was it meant to be understood as "He who is like God"? A simple description of the one who bore the shield and the name, given him by God Himself?
In English, "Who is like God." In Latin, "Quis ut Deus."
In Hebrew..."Michael."
The saint on the Tarot card.
My son?
My son is an incarnation of the Archangel Michael?
He still found that hard to accept.
But if it's true, it would explain why I instinctively turned to him for advice about confessing to Ruthie.
He cleared his throat. "Ben? Wait a second till I check something." He made sure Ruthie and Gabriel were still asleep in their respective beds, then returned and continued in a near-whisper. "I know this is a change of subject. But...remember my asking you whether I should tell Ruthie I caused what happened to Gabriel? Why did you say I shouldn't?"
Ben winced at the reminder of that conversation. But he didn't resist discussing it. "First off," he said quietly, "I didn't mean you should lie if she asks you. But I don't think that's gonna happen.
"Ruthie hardly ever thinks about Gabe's not bein' what most folks consider normal. She adores him. An' he has a good life. Neither o' them is sufferin'. They might or might not be as happy as they are now - assumin' Ruthie was alive - if you hadn't done what you did.
"That don't mean you didn't sin, if it was deliberate. But there's no need to apologize to Ruthie - it'd make her feel worse, not better. Truth is, when you asked me that, you were thinkin' more of yourself than of her. Sorta wallowin' in guilt, wantin' to be punished, when you should stop broodin' an' move on." Ben paused and frowned. He looked as if he'd surprised himself with that analysis. "If you really were that concerned about it," he concluded wryly, "an' not just usin' it to make me stop carryin' on about my sins."
"Oh, I was concerned about it. You helped me - a lot."
And I'm learning you're much more mature than the typical eighteen-year-old.
I wonder how you'll react when you learn - again - that you're an eons-old archangel?
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Ruthie hadn't meant to fall asleep. When she woke and found herself alone in bed she knew a moment of terror. I passed out, an' Ben died durin' the night an' they've already taken his body away?
But then she heard the low murmur of men's voices coming from the next room. There were three voices now: Gabriel's, Hack's...and Ben's.
How could that be possible?
She leapt out of bed and raced for the door, screaming, "Ben? Ben?"
An instant later she was in his arms, and between kisses he was saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I thought I'd get back in there before you woke up."
It began to dawn on her that somehow, incredibly, he was really all right. So all right that they could share a good laugh at how ridiculous he looked, with a two-week growth of untended beard, wearing one of her floral robes.
When they stopped laughing, Ben said, "Hey. I meant that proposal."
She hadn't expected him to remember it. But when she saw the sincerity in his eyes, she threw caution to the winds and followed her heart. "That's good, 'cause I'm gonna hold you to it!"
x
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Hack left the impromptu engagement party - or whatever it was - and drifted into the bedroom. He picked up Ruthie's Bible.
This is silly. I don't remember what Book that passage was in. I'm not even sure it's in this Version.
But...it's been claimed the passage refers to a great, final struggle, when a special hero will be required to fight the Enemy. I've sensed we live in an extraordinary era. And if Ben is who I believe he is...
If Ben is who I think, and the coming conflict is what I fear, this Bible will open to the correct verse.
He flipped it open.
And found himself looking at Daniel 12: "At that time shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who standeth for the children of thy people: and a time shall come as never was, from the time that nations began..."
Hack dropped to his knees and whispered, "May God protect us."
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A week later, Ben was having a late-night smoke on the trailer steps.
Life had gotten back to normal. The carnival was playing in a new town; he was working as hard as ever; his father had presumably gone back to wherever invisible Templars hung out. At the moment, Ben's new wife and stepson were sound asleep.
I wish I coulda told Pa the other thing I remember from that night. But I don't dare share it with anyone.
He didn't know how or why he'd come to possess this unsought information. What was the point of an eighteen-year-old American carny's knowing such a thing?
He'd never been to the Middle East. But he knew the name and whereabouts of an obscure village. And if he went there, he'd know where to go from there. Easy as finding his way from these steps to Ruthie's bed.
He took a long drag on his cigarette.
Is there a plan here, God? Will You let me in on it, when You're good an' ready?
He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one.
For now, he'd just have to live with the knowledge that he, Ben Hawkins, was the guardian of a secret that could destroy the world: the burial place of Moses.
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The End