Chapter Fifteen-
Ragg stood over Meg in dark victory.
Her life's blood drained out onto the asphalt, her glasses were broken on impact with the roof, and her toque came loose and tumbled away in the heavy breeze.
The wind caressed both figures' hair, as her killer chuckled in satisfaction. Then Ragg lifted his face to the sky as the first drops of rain fell on him and her. He felt clean and vindicated, as the rain increased in volume to the level of a heavy drizzle.
He smiled as he took the time to see her crumpled body from different angles, strolling around and studying her as though she were a work of art crafted by his own hands. The blood pool becoming more diluted with rain water, her hair becoming more matted and soaked, her body, overall, looking small and damaged, like a wild animal lying dead by the side of a lonely stretch of road.
He took a reluctant sigh and straightened his posture. Fun and games were indeed done. Time to become king.
Reaching behind himself, Ragg produced the Soulflame. With the artifact in one hand, and his sword in the other, he looked very much the conqueror.
"You suburbanite trash," he gloated. "What made you think you could stop what I've planned years for? The coming of a new age on Planet Earth. I don't know why you risked your life to try and save those sorry souls, but don't you worry. Once I absorb your soul into the Soulflame, you'll soon have company."
He raised the artifact into the air, recalling the spell that was written around the item's width, that he had translated a long time ago for this purpose, at last.
"Souls, one or a hundred, empower me,
From the highest peaks, to the deepest sea,
The authority that's been granted me,
The world is mine, and woe to thee…"
The amber, flame-like sculpture on the artifact's top began to radiate a warm light, as though the sculpture was turning into a true flame. Ragg's mind ran free with images of parades, potential conquest, and global supplication. He then noticed another glow cascading about him, one not originating from the Soulflame.
Looking down to where Meg lay by his feet, he could see the closed Mortality Report lying by her, still in her loose grasp. A more golden glow rose gradually from the report's cover, a symbol its divine origins.
At first, the light merely caught his attention, growing more luminous and warm against the cold rain and stormy darkness. In moments, the light rose like a sunrise, subduing even the eldritch flame of his artifact, and it felt to him as though he were standing before the lamp of a lighthouse, so consumed in its radiance he was.
The light soon unfolded to illuminate the entirety of the rooftop. Then the pain hit him.
It started as a slow burning deep within his body, and then a blinding, white flash within the heart of the report's brilliance stripped his eyes away, leaving clean black holes in his skull.
He screamed into the wind until he was hoarse. He wanted to run anywhere to escape the agony that was filling up and spreading from the core of his body like a wildfire, but his muscles ignored his tortured commands. He was locked in the growing light, frozen in his victorious pose, and looking like a suffering Statue of Liberty.
His spoiled suit was the first to smolder, darkening and catching fire. Followed by his hair, which freely flew in the breeze in flaming thatches. At last, his body began to crisp and smoke, trailing dark wisps of carbonization into the storm.
Still screaming to no one who could hear him, Ragg's ravaged body finally succumb to the holy energy of the report. Exploding into fiery chunks of ruined flesh that disintegrated in the tempestuous air, his body was literally blasted away where he stood, and his soul, still immobilized, still crying out in torment, was finally, torturously, drawn into the Soulflame as it fell onto the wet roof and rested on its side, its amber flame, glowing softly.
The luminosity of the report's cover then began to recede as gradually as it began, dimming like a dying coal, slowly hiding the elements of the roof back into storm-driven darkness, until the cover was inert, a wet, white folder held in the hand of a brave girl who had fallen.
The Soulflame still glowed faintly, silently, fueled by the now-twisted existence of Ragg's captive spirit.
A hand gently righted the object and picked it up.
It was hazy here, and the length and breadth of here was a soothing, ubiquitous white. Although there were no objects or furniture in this place, a thorough and complete peace emanated from everywhere. It was here, in this space of utter and eternal tranquility, that Meg Griffin finally awakened. Again.
Despite the soft luminescence around her, sharp spots of light danced in her vision as she looked about her, trying to get her bearings and recall what happened before waking up.
"Mmmm...What happened? Ohh...What happened to me?" she asked herself while she sat up and carefully shook her head, threatening to give herself a bad case of dizziness.
"You died, little one," the calming voice of God told her.
Meg straightened her wrecked glasses to see who addressed her, seeing a blurry figure in indistinct white robes. As her mind and vision started to clear, she vaguely remembered someone familiar.
"The Man In White?" she blurted out mistakenly.
"No, my child. Though I have been called worse."
God reached over to her and touched her glasses. In an instant, they were repaired, and Meg could see Him at last. Awestruck was likely to be her normal reaction, but she just sat there, putting it all together.
"I-I died," Meg said, almost not believing it. "Ragg! Ragg must have…killed me, after I went for the Mortality Report." She looked to her creator anxiously. "Is…is it safe?"
God just looked at her worry and smiled fatherly, like it was the most inconsequential thing for her to fret over.
"Yes, little one," he reassured her. "Here it is." It appeared next to her, the cover of its folder was bloody.
Meg picked it up. She knew that it essentially belonged to Him, and was about to give it to him when she noticed the blood stain.
"Wow, sorry I made a mess of this," Meg apologized, wiping at the deep red mark. It wouldn't do to give God a soiled folder. But the stain didn't smudge or clear up with her determined cleaning. It remained as it was, fresh, bright and crimson.
"Won't come off," she told Him nervously. "I don't know why it won't come off. I'm sorry."
God sat down beside her. The moment He said, "Don't be, Megan," she stopped and looked at Him. She saw into His peaceful eyes and wondered why she ever worried about anything.
"That blood is not a stain, but a badge," He said. "A standard that will bear your sacrifice long after Time itself is forgotten. You've made a holy document holier still by your actions."
To a Roman Catholic girl was a huge thing for Meg to digest. She knew she was, in essence, fighting against evil, but to hear that she did this well in the fight, even though she lost her life in the process, was breathtaking.
"I did?" she asked, finally awestruck.
Then she realized, as she modestly glanced down and saw the wound through her torn shirt, that time was up for her and, just as much, for Jennifer and her comrades. If all the movies she seen and all the books she'd ever read about the battle between good and evil was clear about anything, it was that it was exacting in its need for balance and fair-play, at least as far as Good was concerned. She just wanted to explain her side of the story before all was said and done.
"I just wanted to do the right thing and help my friends out. I know you don't like suicides, but I didn't think they deserved what happened to them," she said glumly.
"Nor do you deserve what has happened to you," He replied kindly. "You're a sweet girl, beset by the troubles and vexations of a sad world, and that may not change. But troubles are not the end-all and be-all of human existence."
He raised His hand to her, and held a dark, rough stone in His palm. "Do you know what this is?"
Meg scrutinized the object and said, "It looks like coal."
"Correct. And what is it made of?"
"Carbon, mostly."
God smiled proudly. "I can see that your country's school system isn't too far gone. You're right. And do you know what happens when heat and pressure are applied to this coal?"
Meg was starting to wonder where this was going. "It turns into a diamond."
God closed the coal in His hand with a flourish of flexing fingers, and when He opened it again, a flawless diamond filled His palm. "That's what I see in you."
"You do?" Meg looked genuinely surprised. First for the swift transformation of the coal in His hand, and second, because He saw something that beautiful in her. His love was boundless, but she never thought she would receive it so directly.
"I do," He said. "You see, Meg, there's a reason I created Humanity out of carbon, too. Because I know that they can become diamonds, if they can learn to handle the pressures of the world and just have faith. I've seen the times when you cracked, and I've also seen the times when you rose up through the adversities and the evils that others have set upon you. It was during those times when your diamond was shining the brightest."
Faith. The word sat potently in Meg's mind just then. It was taken for granted so much, these days, but here, in His presence, it was so clear. And not only her faith in him, but also just as importantly, His faith in her.
"Thank you, God," she said with solemn humility, but she knew that there were times when even she was sure that that faith was shaken. "But I know I must've disappointed you so many times, when I lost my temper at my family, or at the other kids at school. I'm sorry. I just...I just get so fed up, sometimes."
God leaned over and put a comforting arm over her shoulder. "You know, your dog, Brian, may be well-read, but he doesn't know everything. Do you know why I put setbacks and roadblocks in your life, Meg? It's so that you can see the strength that I put into you manifest. I understand the anger that sits in you at times. I know about the scars, both inside," He gently held up one of Meg's arms, showing off the old scars across it. "And out."
"I know where it comes from," He continued. "And I want you to know something. Some people may never see, or understand, the good person that you are, or the good that you do. Your family doesn't understand, and may never understand the good and kind person that you are."
He then looked directly into Meg's eyes with a conviction that staggered belief. "But don't ever go to bed, or wake up the next morning, thinking I don't. You are my creation, Megan Griffin."
He stood up and opened His hand towards her. A cool, revitalizing breeze washed over Meg, lifting her up gently. A sourceless, golden light softly bathed every inch of her body, and a feeling of peaceful serenity overcame her.
"And you have pleased me much this day," He said, as Meg was slowly lowered to her feet, the golden light submerging into her, newly and truly healed in mind, body and spirit.
"Really? Wow! Thanks, God!" Meg beamed as she looked over at her gold and white lawyer's outfit, rolling up her sleeves and finding not a single trace of a scar on her arms. Even the compulsions she once had to cut herself had vanished into nothingness. She felt, for the first time, totally clean and totally happy.
God smiled at her reaction, saying, "You're more than welcome, Megan. You have a great destiny that lies ahead of you, and the world will be the richer for it. Be strong and have faith, and you'll see the rewards of both this world, and, when your time finally comes, the next."
Upon hearing God mention the next world, Meg remembered something vital. "Oh! Speaking of which, I have to get to the courtroom. Maybe it's not too late! The jury is going to render their verdict. If-If I can give the judge the report, he'll dismiss the case in favor of the kids. I have to get there!"
God favored her with another smile, and His eyes twinkled like starshine on a clear country night.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about any of that. Besides, I knew the paperwork was stolen anyway. I allowed it to happen."
Meg was flabbergasted. "You did? But, why?"
He put His hand on her shoulder in confidence, and told her. "I delayed the judgment of Jennifer and the other children because I knew, in time, that you would become their champion, and would thwart the powers of evil that wanted to take advantage of their troubles. I believe in you, Meg Griffin. What others saw as delays, were but deliveries in my time. The fruition of my plan and your purpose in it are why you are here, why the importance of this was so paramount, and why, in the end, you are so beloved in my sight, my servant, my warrior...my child."
His loving voice echoed faintly in Meg's mind, as she stood out in the hall, in front of the closed courtroom doors, dressed in her new suit, the blood stained Mortality Report in her hand.
"Wait 'til they get a load of me," she said in her best Nicholson, with the smile of a proven veteran in the army of Good. With a look of supreme confidence shining on her face, Megan Griffin opened the doors.