Divine Intervention

For those of you who have read Death Co, this is a continuation of the main character, but through an entirely new story so that new readers and old can enjoy all the same. Let me know what you think! For those who want to read Death Co first, here's a link to the collection: http://www.abctales.com/collection/death-co

Divine Intervention

     I watch quietly from the corner of a crowded coffee shop as two men convers avidly about a topic that is wholly uninteresting. I wonder if they would talk about something different if they knew what was coming. Both men were slime of the worst sort and I was sorely disappointed to find their conversation so mundane. I can’t believe I got here early for this shit.

     “All I’m saying is that Dr. Phil might actually have a point this time. Ritalin might actually be the solution for those kids.” First of all, Dr. Phil hasn’t been right for more than five seconds in his entire ‘career’, and secondly he’s got a list of soul-bargaining so long that when he finally kicks the bucket there’s going to be a line of demons five miles long to claim him.

     Two blocks away a semi-truck is rumbling through a school zone at fifty miles an hour headed straight for us. The driver has taken one too many Ambien and is suffering from some rather severe hallucinations. I’m not here for him, but frankly his story is more interesting than the men I am contracted for. Sure they sold cancer medications at an insanely high profit, but that’s just business, not interesting.  

     The truck driver’s name is Zed (an unfortunate afterbirth of the grunge-induced nomenclature of the nineties), he sported a rather large bald patch flanked by two curtains of greasy, black hair, he was a father of three, and the only one in the family who provided an income. Which all in all made the day a bit more dramatic than it needed to be.

     From the corner of the coffee shop an atheist dressed entirely in black (he had to be a cliché) jumps up from his chair and screams “Divine intervention!”

     Every once in a while The Creator decides to take notice of the events occurring in the world below. Mostly his hobbies are natural disasters and genocide (says it inspires humanity or some shit, I think he just likes to make waves), however an atheist spontaneously bursting out into rapturous belief is a sure-fire signal that The Big Guy is bored.

     He takes a running start and catapults himself through the glass window at the front of the shop. The shattering spurs the otherwise complacent and over-caffeinated patrons to action. The doctors are running to see if the man is alright, but he’s already on his feet, amazingly unscathed, running forth into the street. The semi-truck is about half a block away. He throws himself in front of it in a remarkable display of stupidity and is immediately turned into a fantastically red piece of human pulp. Fortunately for me this instance of divine intervention has provided an opportunity.

     I pull the brim of my Yankees baseball cap down low and try to act like I haven’t noticed anything. The next part is a little tricky. A temporal wave sweeps over the street, slowing time to a stop. In the distance I hear the shot of a cannon and death falls from above, well one of the many people that play the role of death. Any sudden movements will give me away. The rest of the world has been frozen by divine time-fuckery, but as an otherworldly being I am unaffected.

     Death (requisition agents as we call them) walks up to the mess on the sidewalk and stands it up. The poor man hardly resembles much of anything anymore. There’s going to be a lot of paperwork on that one. Sure, I could fight to take him with me as well (I mean, he was an atheist after all), but the doctors have promise to them.

     I let the agent finish his business with the man and watch as they disappear in a flash of light. The requisition agent is gone and time chugs back into motion. Now what happens next is a bit of beautiful bad luck, for both the doctors, as well as the divine creator himself.

     The two doctors standing before me may be scumbags, but sometime in the future they would have invented an AIDS vaccine. Unfortunately for them, The Devil took an interest in retrieving them before they had their chance at redemption. The semi driver is unphased by the penitent servant now adorning the sidewalk. However, the collision has just enough force to alter the semi’s trajectory by fifteen degrees. Instead of obliterating the kind old woman who donates her time on weekends to the homeless, the truck is headed directly for the two doctors staring horror struck at the situation before them.

     It all takes about five seconds to go down. The truck barrels through the already broken glass, creating a wonderful crunch as it does so. Next, the doctors cringe in fear. One of them is smart and tries to make a run for it, but the grill of the truck is too wide and manages to clip him before he’s out of the way. The impact is so forceful that it sends him spinning into a concrete pillar, snapping his spine in two. The second doctor takes the brunt of the hit and is killed on impact while also being pulled under the right tire. In a miracle the driver’s airbag deploys and saves him from everything but a few cuts and bruises (not to worry, we’re in Alabama, so he gets the death penalty in two years).

     Time stops again and immediately I spring into action. There’s not much time before another agent shows up and tries to take my prize. I remove my cap to reveal a pair of modest horns sprouting from the back of my skull. People are always more cooperative when they can clearly see where your allegiances lie. I wish they could have been a little bigger, but there are some things we can’t control I suppose.

     The doctor crawls out from beneath the semi, bewildered, afraid and with a handsome tire tread imprinted on his face. “Good afternoon sir.” I say jovially, trying to convey confidence as well as a sense of ease.

     “I’m alive! It’s a miracle.”

     “Ooh. Sorry about that. Not quite!” I gesture to my horns.

     “What do you mean?”

     So much for the subtle approach. “I’m sorry to say it, but you didn’t quite make it, dead on impact. Trust me you had it better than your friend.” The other doctor is still struggling to stand with a severed spine. He’s bent over at the waist and lacking some of the key motor functions needed to straighten. “Don’t pay attention to him! This is the end of the line for you both, and it’s time to go..”

     “Who are you?” He shivers. Clearly he’s got some of it figured it out.

     Good. “I am that final judge come to take my righteous vengeance for the plethora of injustice you have wrought upon this world. Your soul weighs heavy, and therefore you must accompany me below.” Almost biblical. Well done. I savor the moment where he finds the meaning in my words. The penultimate fear in his eyes is a delicious tonic in a world that is otherwise bland. In the distance a cannon sounds. Shit, out of time.

     “What was that?”

     “We must leave now. Take my hand.” He walks over to me and does as he’s told. Unbelievable. This is too easy. I grab his hand greedily. We’re about to leave when I hear a voice from behind me.

     “Let go of him. You of all people should know that he has to go through the proper channels.” The man speaking is a gruff requisition agent by the name of Barker. Many years ago he was my commanding officer, but that’s another story entirely.

     “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Slowly I turn around. He’s got a large shotgun pointed straight at me. I wonder how fast you are old man. Even if he did hit me, it’s not like I’m going to die twice, it would just sting and we’ve got some great stitchery in the pit.

     “We all know what you did [NAME DELETED].” I really hate my name. “It may have been against the rules, but it was honorable. Why serve him? Why damn your soul even further?”

     “You have no idea what it’s like down there.” His words hurt. They can’t possibly know what I’ve been through to get where I am. An earth bound demon is a position of honor, and not one given out often. It beats the hell out of staying in the pit day in and day out.

     “No, I suppose I don’t, but I still can’t let you take him. He may be yours eventually, but not this day.”

     “Guess again.” In one swift motion I duck behind my captive and pull us into the floor. The shotgun blast goes off, but it just takes a chunk of the doctor’s face. I remain unscathed as we plummet towards the underworld. Oh well, one out of two ain’t bad…