Jump: The Fallen: Testament 1 (12 page)

It’s a familiar rant—raging outside the mansion of your oppressor, pretending that they are doing anything but enjoying breakfast while they call Protection down on you, send you to the
Fifty
.
Where is she?
Then I think about something he said. “You said zookeepers. Who. . .? And since when were you the hope of. . .?”

“Don’t you realize?” he says. “If you are going to create a prison—garden if you prefer. Sorry, sometimes I. . . Ah, no matter. I lose myself sometimes, it is . . . irrelevant.
You
are a garden full of monkeys, Jake, and that requires . . . compliance officers to take care of the mess.”

“Get the hell outta—”

“Do you know what kind of duty that is?” he says. He’s ignoring me on purpose. “Cleaning cages full of the vile excrement of animals? We all hated it. She almost lost. . .” He shakes his head. “So she sent down the Word—an experiment to determine if you could . . . self-correct, I imagine. She was so optimistic. I warned her. I hate it when I’m right. And just as I predicted, you twisted it and turned it into a justification to makes things worse. You retold the tales so often, they hardly resemble their true meaning anymore. And the killing. . .? The two Heavens help me, you monkeys love killing more than I do.”

Not that he’s wrong or that I don’t agree with him, but as much as I want to hear it. . . “So you’re telling
me
all this. . .? Why, because I’m such a smart monkey? And you’re our last hope? No wonder things are so fucked.”

He smiles at me, like a bored King indulging a quaint peasant. “Things are . . .
bad
, because she prefers them to be so. Her experiment is going exactly as she wants. She revels in the collapse, like watching great drama unfold.”

As much as I’m loving listening to someone who is as fed up with their existence as I am, now he’s off in the weeds, talking shit about . . . God or whoever. If there is hope left for me, I don’t think I should jump on that bandwagon. It is probably better if I just keep my mouth shut. Who am I kidding? “No wonder you are so evil,” I say. I smile a little. “So what do you think we should do?”

He smiles a deep, satisfied grin at me and ignores the question for a second. Then he looks toward the sky and the flames burn brighter. He stares up, cocks his head to the side, and raises his eyebrows a little. When he looks back at me, he’s all business. “We . . . have a dilemma,” he says.

Here comes the shit. I played right into it.
We
. . . I wasn’t talking about him, but he—

“I know who you were referring to,” he says, “however, she has waited for man to repent for an eternity. And a second coming? Please. Fool her once, shame on you. This will be her last attempt.”

“Last attempt at what?”

“Cleaning up,” he says. “Do you know what it is like to be an angel?”

“What are you. . .? And
you
do?”

“Ah, remember,” he says. Then he stands a little taller and breathes in like he’s trying to control his temper. “Once, I was the highest angel, second only to her. And things were . . . beautiful. Do you have any idea what it would be like to be told you were destined for . . . that you were created for divine purposes, spawned from the womb of divinity herself . . . only to realize one day that you were simply a glorified janitor, cleaning up feces after creatures in your salvation’s zoo?”

He’s changed—glowing fire is building in him now and suave soul-sucker or not, this guy is scary as shit. I’m trying to think of something . . . stall for . . . I don’t know what. Time?

As soon as I think it, he calms back down. He looks like an idea popped into his head. Then he says, “Time . . . is up.”

There’s some serious silence between us, as he lets that last statement sink in. He’s pretty good at this shit. Better than I was.

He smiles a big, wide grin.

Probably reading my thoughts again.
“So. . .?” I don’t want to know the answer, but I’m pretty sure what I want isn’t entering into his thinking.

“Now there is where you are wrong,” he says, “dead wrong.”

I shiver as I remember where and what we are doing here. He’s been educating me, just enough. And now it’s final exam time.

“Everything from here will rest on what you choose,” he says. “Your decision now seals your fate.”

“I thought it was sealed when I jumped.”

“I told you,” he says, “she told you . . . times are different. When the ship is sinking, there are different operating procedures—a different . . . manual.”

“What manual?” I ask. “How can you have a—you mean the
Bible
?”

“That is the book of
life
,” he says, “and you have bastardized most of it. But this is not life, this is death. And death is my realm of responsibility. I was cast out as the final measure to keep the garden from imploding on itself. And my manual . . . my book . . .”

He holds up the book he had before they sent me on their little joyride. The writing on the cover is none I recognize. Ancient Egyptian, Sanskrit, triangles or something? I’m no language scholar—shit’s all Greek to me. It looks like three words, though, and it looks like they are written in—

He smiles. “Yes,” he says, “blood. My book . . . is the
Book of Blood
.”

It’s clear he has an idea, a little trick up his sleeve. Whatever is in his big red book, it feels like he is more concerned with using it to fuck with her than he wants to use it to help me. I’m not bitching, but he’s the—no way what he says can be good for me
and
him. Might as well take every second I can get before he burns me, though. I shudder at the thought.

He’s eyeing me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Okay. . .” I say to him slowly. “Exactly what does your little red bible say, then?”

He flips it open like a State Revenue agent would open an audit report. He already knows what he wants, he’s just looking for the obscure law that will let him take it. Then he thumbs through a few pages, and when he finds what he’s after, he runs his finger across the text as he reads. As he does, I can hear the slightest moaning sound coming from the book.
 

I know. All of this—it’s a lot to take in. The world was messed up enough and I was sick of it. Sick of the ignorance. Sick of the hypocrisy. Sick of the elitism. But this is. . .? How do you cheat death?

He never looks up or breaks stride, running his finger over words on the page. “Death. . .” he says in a slow, growling moan, “only ever cheats you.” When he does pause, the moaning stops and I figure he’s found his chapter and verse. “Except—”

“Except what?” I ask. If this is it, I wanna. . .?

When he reads now, I can hear the faintest crying. Like a little girl down the hall behind a heavy door. And the words caw from his lips, “And on his last day, the Angel of Light and the Chosen One shall each tempt The Fallen with their own desires.”

I don’t get very far past the “last day” part, before my mind’s looking for the exit again. But then I realize something. “Tempt me with what?” I ask. “There isn’t a single thing I want from you.”

He closes his report and peers at me like he’s deciding whether to credit-crack me or put a judgment on me. “Actually, there are a host of items you might like to acquire. However, there are two that you want most desperately. And fortuitously for me, today is your . . .
lucky
day, because, as fate would have it, I happen to possess one of them. And for a small fee. . .”

Fortui—
He’s as condescending as me, I’ll give him that. And “small fee.” Now he really sounds like a revenue agent. Once you add up all of their “small” fees. . . We were all idiots, holding out our hands to receive free everything and anything we could get our greedy gums on. We were drunk on the idea that the State would take care of everyone—keep us all drunk and happy. And the bartender kept pouring and the tab kept growing. By the time the bill came due, it was too late for anyone whose daughter wasn’t willing to fuck a State politician, or any other rich bastard that was holding a tab on the rest of us.

He’s right about the two things, though. I want my girls back.

“They’re both dead,” I say. The tears come before I even say their names. “Isn’t that what your little daydreams were for, reminding me about Kelly? Amy?”

“Amy. . .” he says, “yes, very unfortunate. Precious little I can do to remedy that.” He glances up and then looks back at me. He motions his long thumb upward. “She is . . . keeping close watch over her. However, your
wife,
on the other hand. . .”

When he looks at his feet, I feel another twinge in my chest, right where he ripped out my heart. I rub it with my hand to make it go away . . . and check that it’s still in there. But Kelly in. . .? If all this is real, there’s only one place a person like her ends up, and that’s Heaven. And after what they did to her. . . Now she’s the only salvation I want.

“That’s total bullshit,” I say. “You don’t have her down there. That woman was only ever good to anyone. No way she ends up with you.”

“She was a beautiful soul, wasn’t she,” he says. “Very tasty. It is . . . sad. However, she has rules. I’m sure you understand.”

“Rules?” I say. “What rules could she possibly have that—” Then I realize what he’s talking about. So long ago. More shit that’s my fault—guilt I gotta cram down with the rest of it. “She’s gonna condemn her for
that
? We were teenagers. We had no idea what to do with a baby.”

This time he doesn’t even bother tilting his head back, he just rolls his eyes up and smiles. Then he rolls them back down at me. “She likes to reserve the baby killing for herself. Poor Herod—tricked into it.”

I got no idea what he’s talking about, but I don’t think he’s too broken up about whoever “Herod” is.

“He tried to play. . .” he says. “None of you are authorized to play
God
down there. That part of the Word is true.”

And the flames in the sky above us go away and lightning and thunder flash and crack through the clouds. It’s the first sign of disapproval she’s shown so far. I’m surprised it took this long. But when I think about it, that was probably her on the roof, right before I jumped.

“Shit. . .” I mutter. If he does have Kelly, I gotta. . . “Look, that shit was not her fault. I pushed her into that decision. If you gotta bill someone. . .” Now I look up, and I can feel the rage building. If we go at this much longer, I’m going to do something I regret. By now, I know that’s not a stretch—my whole fucking life’s turning to regret. “Hey!” I shout up at the sky. “You wanna punish someone for that, here I am! She doesn’t deserve to be with him!” I look back at him, and he’s wearing a shit-eating grin—I’m doing exactly what he wants.

The silence from above tells me that she’s not listening . . . or doesn’t give a shit.

“It’s not her turn,” he says, “it’s mine. And there is nothing she can do for Kelly. So—”

“Name it,” I say. I’m tired of the game. I might have ruined my own life, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to drag Kelly down to Hell with me. Though, from what I’ve seen so far, I don’t know which one of these two is worse. But even in the face of first-hand evidence, some beliefs are hard to overcome—Heaven has to be better than whatever he’s doing to her. “Kelly—out of here and into Heaven—name your price.”

“And you bargain with . . . what, exactly?” he asks.

He knows, but he’s wallowing in my desperation, licking in the panic. Maybe that’s part of the game?

“You have nothing to offer,” he says. “She took her own child’s life and you took yours. I already possess everything you could possibly give me. Pesky rulebook, anyway.”

“Then why are we still talking?” I say. “You want something or you would just get to it. So what is it?”

“Clever boy,” he says. He pauses for a second. “Allegiance,” his voice is commanding and he caws it out, like a Protection agent says, “Citizen ID.” He’s not asking.

“What?” I ask. “If you own me, I do what you want. Or you torture me. What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s true,” he says. “Torture you for all eternity, that’s my right. And you must do what I wish. However. . .”

Again with the, “however.” At least he’s putting a line between the lies and the truth now.

“Your allegiance means that you follow my orders because you
believe
in them—you recognize my legitimate authority. You follow because you have faith in me, not because you must.”

More hidden agenda—life and death mimicking each other. I realize this has precious little to do with me. I can recognize a little malcontent with an axe to grind against his boss. This is about him and her and I’m tired of being in the middle. The king and queen can duke it out themselves. See how they like it down here in the mud and blood with the pawns.
The answer is
—

“Wait,” he says. “I can feel your rage, and I sense that you harbor some . . . reservations regarding my offer. So before you answer, let me remind you: I did not perform those vile acts on your wife and I did not rip little Amy from you. I am simply a messenger. I do what her Word commands. I carry out orders. And there is no end to the supply of them. . . . Heaven is not so magnificent as you might imagine. It is a bit like a huge corporation being run by a spoiled billionaire from her yacht. Heaven. . . Trust me, it will feel like you never left home. However . . . battle for me—bring vengeance and justice down upon the very ones who’ve wronged you—and I assure you, you will drink in the sweetness of your enemies cries under your talons.”

And there it is—revenge. All I’ve ever ranted about. Dreamed about. Shove a stake in the heart of the vampires, sucking the blood out of the citizens. Just the thought of it makes me want to say yes. But allegiance? “What’s the catch?” I ask. The advertisement is always better than the product—I know there’s a catch. And once you crack credits on something, you’ll tear your eyes out trying to get them back. Remember that.

“You are . . . perceptive,” he says. “I would not offer otherwise. Simply continue to rip Kelly’s soul apart and add yours to the lake. So hard to keep track of all of you. No wonder the Germans used numbers. They were much more efficient at this than I am . . . Ahh. . .” He pauses for a few seconds. Looks like he’s thinking or remembering, maybe. Then he continues. “There is no hidden—I grow weary of torturing souls in Hell. It has become . . . common. I want to rule. To do that, I require loyal soldiers. So I give you Kelly—release her soul to Heaven—and you come work for me . . . willingly. It is really that simple.”