Behold ! Page 10

  Dr. Pashteen wasn’t listening. Frank was turned partially away, whether out of modesty or circumstance was uncertain. The doctor could see Frank’s left torso; and he could also see it was complete free of any mark or blemish. Walking around him, Dr. Pashteen touched his right lower back where his kidney would be and pressed gently.

  “Any pain or discomfort here?” the doctor asked softly.

  “Nope,” Frank replied. Then he reached behind himself, placing his hands flat in the small back. Arching backward, he laughed. “I haven’t been able to do that in eight years,” he chuckled in amazement.

  “I’m a doctor, and I believe in science,” Dr. Pashteen spoke softly, almost reverently. “But I’m also a man of faith, and I believe I’ve just witnessed my first miracle healing. There is no outward evidence of any injury on your body, and even the stitches are gone from your knee.”

  Eyes wide in amazement, he reached and flung down the sheet on the bed, covering the collection bag and almost knocking the IV line onto the floor from where it lay in a spreading stain of nutritive fluids. There on the stark white sheets were five tiny black wads of thread, still tied in perfect surgical knots.

  FRANK WAS DRESSED IN the clothes he had been wearing during the fight at his house and standing downstairs at the ER entrance 25 minutes later. His clothes were much worse for the wear, but he was more concerned with his missing sidearm.

  “They told me they gave it to Sergeant McElroy, but I have no way to reach him, if he’s even still in the hospital,” he informed no one in particular.

  Frank might have thought he was finished with surprises for the night, but another one was forthcoming. Marrisa reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out the radio which Ham had caused to fly around the room earlier. They hadn’t told Frank that part yet.

  “Sgt. McElroy, this is Mrs. Benson. Are you still in the hospital? Lieutenant Kratos would like to speak to you.”

  The radio crackled to life immediately. “I’m on my way to the ICU right now,” was the excited reply.

  “He’s not in ICU, he’s being discharged. We’re in the ER; could you meet us there, please?” A double break on the squelch was the only reply.

  When Marrisa raised the radio to repeat her request, Frank held his hand up. “That double squawk was the standard response for affirmative.” He held his hand out, and Marrisa handed him the radio willingly; almost eagerly.

  “Pat, have you still got my service revolver?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, sir, I have it on me. I’ll be there in two minutes,” he replied.

  “Don’t kill yourself getting here,” Frank said, nervously glancing around the room at realizing his faux pas, but everyone was laughing.

  NINETEEN

  “SOMEONE’S BEEN BUSY,” Pris observed as the van doors opened in the Kratos’ driveway.

  “How’s that?” Frank asked from the front seat of his van.

  Clara had released her chair from its locks and turned to face the open door of the other van. They had left Carl at the hospital, with the promise he would join them after his shift. Frank’s miraculous recovery was enough of a flashing neon light illuminating odd happenings without the head custodian being seen leaving with that same patient.

  “The front door is closed,” Ham interjected from his place where his chair was tied down behind Pris in Marrisa’s van.

  “Well, shouldn’t it be?” Frank asked quizzically.

  “No, when we left, the front door was laying on the floor in the living room,” Marrisa finished.

  “Ah, the explosion,” Frank supplied. “The one in which I was almost killed, and Marrisa in turn killed a top-level demon,” he finished, as if discussing a slight change in the weather.

  “Uriel vanquished Berith back to the realm of the condemned,” Raquel supplied in turn.

  “It is nearly impossible for any of my Father’s children to be killed,” Clara informed him. “Only He can actually cause them to cease to exist. This is why Father had to condemn them to the other place.” As she spoke the term, Clara’s body literally quivered in disgust.

  “So, your brothers and sisters are immortal and invulnerable, kind of like Superman?” Ham quipped.

  “We don’t use terms like immortal, because we have no reference,” Raquel responded. “We are in fact eternal; our Father made us so when He created us out of the essence of the universe, which He himself created by His will.”

  “This is probably not the right time to ask, but if your Father, He whom we call God, created the universe and all which is in it, does that mean you don’t live in this universe?” Ham asked expectantly.

  “You are such a bright young man!” Raquel beamed enthusiastically. “Even my Father’s prophets took years to grasp this as a concept.”

  “The prophets didn’t have comic books,” Pris snarked.

  Ignoring her quip, Raquel turned to Hamilton very seriously and asked, “And where do you suppose we live instead?”

  “Well, gee, if I had to guess, I’d say....another dimension?” Ham answered hesitantly.

  “Pin a prize on that young man’s chest,” Raquel crowed.

  “Ah, I think you mean, pin a medal on my chest? Or give me a prize?” Ham offered.

  “Yes, yes, your colloquialisms continue to elude me occasionally,” Raquel admitted. “Regardless, we in fact live in a dimension which is nearly pure energy. Father used a small fraction of that energy to create this universe, in this dimension.”

  “He was hoping it too would be eternal, but alas, it allowed decay to enter when my oldest brother was jealous of Father doting on His new creations.” Raquel’s face fell for a moment remembering her love for her fallen brother. “Lucifer said they were weak, and frail, and easily swayed. Father reminded us all then that our charge was to watch over all of His creation for as long as it continued to exist.”

  She paused, and a distant look stole across her face. “It was part of the cause for the great battle, where Brother and Sister fought Brother and Sister for dominion of our realm. Father could have easily stopped it, but chose to let it play out to test our resolve and see how much we had learned in the eons since we had been created. He was disappointed in Lucifer and many of his followers, so He banished them to the other place for all eternity.” Again, Clara’s frail frame shuddered in revulsion.

  “Your reaction leads us to believe it’s a pretty terrible place,” Frank remarked.

  “It is a place of no beauty and no light. It is eternal darkness, and my Brothers and Sisters grope about blindly. They call to us unceasingly across the chasm which none of us can span, and it wears on us.” Raising her head, Raquel looked at each one of them in turn. “That is until recently, when some of your brothers and sisters began calling to them in the pit of darkness; inviting them into your existence.”

  Shaking her head, she continued the tale. “Who among them is strong enough to resist surcease of their torment, if only a brief respite from such eternal torture? And so, they come into your realm, with twisted spirits bent on revenge against our Father for their rejection. They cannot come unless invited, and they have no influence while here, yet they would destroy your very existence, were they capable.”

  “But, if they can’t have any influence in this plane of existence, how is it Berith was able to fight Uriel?” Pris asked curiously.

  “Just like angels, as you call them, can have almost no influence in this plane, so neither can the fallen ones,” Raquel replied. “But those of the prime essence like us, those of Father’s original creations; we can wield words of power in this realm.”

  “I don’t understand; I thought God created all the angels?” Pris replied.

  “Actually, Father taught all my Brothers and Sisters how to make imitations of ourselves, so we would not be lonely,” Uriel interjected. “After the first million of your years, life amongst the few we were became boring and repetitive. Those which we created you know as angels.”

  “How many of prime essenc
e did God originally create?” Ham asked insistently.

  “There were originally 48 children of our Father, and only one has ever actually been annihilated by Him; he was Qemuel,” she concluded sadly. “After that, Father swore to never destroy another of us; thus the banishment. But that is a long story, and for another time.”

  “So, how do we ever hope to stop them?” Marrisa asked fearfully.

  “Understand this,” Raquel said firmly. “The vessels they possess are still just as mortal as ever. If you do anything to them you would to any mortal, they will be cast back into the pit. Only the original creations can resist such lethal forces, and not entirely. Total destruction of the host can cast them down as well. It is usually only one of my Brothers and Sisters of the Realm who can do so.”

  “So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Frank cut in. “If it’s just a demon, one of the creatures of the pit, we can send them back by killing the vessel. But if it’s a higher-level demon, you have to do it?”

  “Not exactly,” Raquel replied. “I said you could send them back by destroying the vessel. Doing sufficient damage so they cannot repair the vessel before it enters into decay.”

  “How long is that?” Frank asked insistently.

  “How long can your bodies exist without breathing?” she asked in return.

  “The common school of thought is, the brain begins to die after about 4-5 minutes without oxygen,” Frank explained. “There have been reported cases of it being much longer, especially when the body is frozen or seriously chilled. But, 4-5 minutes is a good starting point.”

  “Hey, speaking of freezing, it’s really cold out here. And, I’m really freaking out with all this killing and decay talk about other people,” Pris rejoined. “Plus, I feel really exposed, sitting out here in the van,” she finished. “No insult intended on your abilities,” she added, looking at Raquel.

  “None taken, and Priscilla is right,” she said. “We should move inside and continue this training. There is scarce time, and much to impart.”

  Marrisa, who had been sitting on the floor of the van next to her daughter, lifted her head up and looked behind Frank’s van.

  “Speaking of security, someone’s out there.”

  TWENTY

  FRANK WAS OUT OF THE driver’s seat like a shot as Marrisa fumbled in her bag. Weapon at high ready, he rounded the corner of the van and came face-to-face with Omikawa.

  “Whoa, easy Lieutenant,” he squealed, holding his hands up alongside his head.

  “Sing out next time, that’s a good way to earn an extra hole,” Frank barked gruffly.

  “Sorry, I’ve been sitting over in the patrol car watching y’all since you arrived,” Omikawa explained. “I was beginning to worry something was wrong after y’all sat here for five minutes and didn’t get out.”

  Frank always had to stifle a grin when Jason Omikawa spoke. He looked every bit the Japanese heritage he claimed, but he had been born and raised in Chickasha and had the “Okie” drawl down pat. Seeing an Asian face say y’all made him smile inside.

  “Why are you here?” Frank asked heatedly. “I heard you were pretty messed up in the first assault. Why aren’t you home resting? Aren’t you on sick leave?”

  Omikawa knew better than to interrupt Frank, so he hesitated when Frank stopped talking. Seeing he wasn’t going to say any more, he answered all the questions. “I’m here because I requested to be here, even though it’s not officially light duty, which I’ve been cleared for. Nothing broken, just some sprains and pulled muscles.”

  “Sprains and pulls can take longer to heal than breaks, we both know that,” Frank chastised. “Who’d you sweet-talk to get released for limited, and again, why here; why not a desk?”

  “Because I want first crack at the bast..” he caught himself, stepping sideways and eyeing the young people emerging from the vans. When he looked at Frank again, he was having trouble containing his mirth. “I want the bad guys who did this to me, and you, LT. And speaking of light duty, someone needs to call the desk sergeant; he’s put the word out you were comatose and had a low chance of recovering.”

  When Frank puffed up to lay into him again, Omikawa quickly added, “That is to say, I’m seriously glad you weren’t hurt, sir. Your clothes are trashed, but there doesn’t appear to be a mark on you. Shouldn’t you be on light duty, sir?” he finished, still grinning like a fiend.

  “What are you grinning at?” Frank growled, stepping between the two vans.

  Marrisa was crouched on the ground in front of her daughter’s chair, which was still in the van. She held a massive revolver clutched tightly in both hands, and its barrel trembled as she pointed it in his direction. The weapon was overtly menacing, black and shiny, and the end of the long, vent-ribbed barrel looked to be the size of a baseball. Hamilton had moved his chair so he could see around the van’s sliding door, and had his arm cocked back as if to throw his own ball.

  Frank looked at Ham, grinning, and said, “Don’t shoot.”

  Then he looked to Marrisa and, still grinning, asked, “Where’d you get the hand cannon?”

  Marrisa sheepishly lowered the heavy gun to her thigh as she rose slowly. “It was Phillip’s, and he taught me how to use it,” she replied, wiggling it around. “I just never felt the need to carry it until now.”

  “I’m guessing you had that in your bag at the hospital?” Frank asked, still smiling. He nodded approvingly when he saw her index finger couched alongside the cylinder and not on the trigger.

  “Oh, no, I would never carry a gun into a hospital where my daughter’s boyfriend and one of my new best friends were being treated for life-threatening wounds caused by rampaging demons in human form,” she replied acerbically. “That would be illegal.”

  Looking at the others he said, “Let’s make our way inside. It looks like we have a lot of discussion to finish.”

  ONCE THEY WERE ALL settled in the living room, Frank turned to Omikawa and resumed their previous conversation. “Who’s in the patrol with you?”

  “I’m solo,” Jason replied. “We all are, now that more craziness has begun. There aren’t any patrols out with two officers on board. That’s one of the reasons I’m still on duty; we need every able-bodied officer we have. The Captain’s already called for mutual aid from Blanchard, Anadarko, and Rush Springs. OKC already has their hands full.”

  “I think you’d better bring us all up to speed on what you just said,” Frank ordered, looked lost as he viewed his companions.

  “Sir?” Omikawa questioned. “These civilians, as nice of folks as they are, and thank you ma’am for allowing me to rest here for a while,” he said in an aside to Clara, who smiled and nodded. “I don’t think they need to know what’s happening. It’s...well, LT, it’s kinda nuts.”

  Frank sighed, the heavy expulsion of a man who was accustomed to relying on himself and was now being required to put too much on faith. “Sit down Jason, and I’ll try to be brief. Hold your questions until I’m finished,” he said. Turning to the others, he continued, “Please don’t finish my sentences for me, I know there are details I’m leaving out, but he just needs to know the essentials for now.”

  In just under five minutes, Frank filled in all the gaps from the evening’s activities, including his resurrection at the hospital. When he finished, Jason sat speechless. After a minute, he cleared his throat to bring the shocked young officer back to himself, then said, “Your turn.”

  “There’s rioting in the city,” he said, referring to Oklahoma City. In most parts of the state, The City meant OKC, unless you were in the northeast, then it was Tulsa.

  “They’ve put out an all call for every available peace officer, including reserves, court officers, the Feds, game wardens, OHP, the DA’s office; you name it. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the riots, just uncontrolled violence. Cars turned over and set on fire, stores broken into and looted, gangs roaming the streets robbing and beating people; single women...” he pause
d, swallowing hard.

  “Well, you get the idea. The Governor’s even talking about activating and arming the National Guard.” Jason had grown pale during his recitation, but now his color flared. “Gangs are working with other gangs, and there have been a lot of shots fired calls coming in. There were no triggers anyone can identify; it was just like someone flipped a switch and all the bad guys went crazy at once.”

  “It has begun,” Raquel whispered into the silence which threatened to deafen everyone in the room. “We’re out of time.”

  “Wait, you said angels were here to help, they just need a willing vessel, right?” Jason blurted. When Raquel nodded, Jason said, “I’m willing; take me, I’m still in pretty good shape, and maybe, you know, like you said, they can fix me up so I’m ready for action?”

  Clara eyes darkened, and then flew open as she shrugged, looking first at Jason, then around the room. “There has been an angel all-call,” she informed them, copying Jason’s term. “Watcher’s from all over the planet are reporting similar sequences of events. Apparently, this is an onslaught of global proportions, and it is well coordinated. The entire planet is rioting.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  FRANK WAS ON HIS RADIO, getting status updates from any available sources. First responders were answering calls for house and car fires, vicious beatings, robberies, and multiple cases of gang rape. Many citizens were armed and barricaded inside their own homes.

  The calls for vandalism, breaking and entering, and simple theft where no one was assaulted or injured were being told to take precautions against additional attacks by moving to shelters where large groups of people congregated. Churches and synagogues were opening, and the faithful were pouring inside, seeking shelter from this most unusual storm.