Confronting the Fallen (15 page)

Chris was going to argue but then he
stood up again and a wave of exhaustion flooded over him. “Um,
yeah. I think you're right, sir. If you need me for anything though,
just call me.”

“Why, thank you,” the judge
said. “We'll have a lot to talk about tomorrow, I'm sure. Once
those notes come in and I go through them, I'll want to discuss them
with you. You need this information as much as we do. Until then,
good evening, Christopher.”

“Night, sir” Chris replied
and slowly left the office.

He staggered back to his room. Once
inside, Chris locked the door behind him and made his way into the
bedroom. He had just enough strength left to take off his shoes and
then he collapsed on to the bed and sank into a deep, dark pit of
sleep.

Chris didn't know how long he'd been
sleeping, but he woke up sprawled on his bed in the pitch darkness.
He groped around until he found the lamp beside the bed and switched
it on. He pulled his cell phone from the charger and checked the
time. Three o'clock. He was sure that he hadn't slept enough but he
was wide awake now and hungry. Maybe a quick trip down to the
kitchen? Chef said he didn't mind late night snacks as long as the
dishes were put away in the dishwasher. Chris' mouth watered suddenly
as he wondered if there was any of the banana cream pie left that
Chef had made for dessert. He stood up quickly and grabbed his shoes.

Out in the hallway, he turned left and
headed for the kitchen. It seemed a bit strange that he didn't run
into any of the inside guards, but he didn't pay too much attention
to this. After all, there had been nights where he'd snuck down to
the kitchen and had only seen one or two people in the distance,
usually walking across a connecting corridor.

He made his way down the staircase and
finally stood in front of the kitchen door. For the first time since
he had arrived, the door was closed. Chris frowned as he stared at
it. Why would it be closed? Wasn't the kitchen always open? He turned
the doorknob tentatively and it opened easily. Well, it's not locked,
he thought and opened the door.

The lights were off in the kitchen and
Chris couldn't smell any food at all. Weird. He thought he remembered
that the light switch was a few steps to the left of the door and so
he walked slowly in that direction. The door closed behind him with a
sharp click and he was in total darkness. He ran his fingers along
the wall, feeling up and down for the switch. Where is it? he
wondered nervously. Finally, he felt the square metal plate beneath
his fingers and flipped the switch up gratefully. The lights came on,
momentarily blinding him and then he looked around and his jaw
dropped.

He wasn't in the kitchen any longer. In
fact, he was standing, not on tile, but on dry, cracked earth in the
middle of what looked like an arid plain. What the hell? Chris stared
around in disbelief.

The plain was as dry as a desert, with
bits of dead grass poking up through the rough, dried soil. Scattered
here and there Chris could see trees, leafless and gray; as dead as
the earth around them. A lonely wind slipped by him, warm and arid.
The only smell was that of dust and lifelessness. It was the grimmest
place that he had ever seen or imagined.

Imagined? Chris realized that he must
be dreaming. Well, he thought, this is the saddest, most desolate
dream he'd ever had. Very vivid though. The wind occasionally slapped
by his head and whipped his hair across his face and under his chin.
He shook his head.

“What a crappy place to end up,”
he said out loud.

“True. But I still call it home,”
said a voice to his left.

Chris jumped and spun around, staring
at someone who he was sure hadn't been there a minute ago. Then he
rubbed his hands over his eyes. Yeah, definitely a dream, he thought.
Because he was looking at...himself.

The other Chris was staring at his twin
with an expression of both satisfaction and sadness. He was wearing
the same blue jeans and white t-shirt that Chris was wearing, but
they were covered in dust and grit and crisscrossed with a network of
wrinkles.

“Welcome to my realm, Chris,”
his twin said. “I'm glad we have this chance to speak together.
I'd say it was about time.”

“Um, yeah. Right,” Chris
said with a dry laugh. “I don't really feel like talking to
myself, even in a dream.” He looked around again. “And if
I was going to live somewhere, I sure wouldn't pick a dead place like
this.”

The other Chris shook his head. “You
don't live here, Chris. I do.” He studied Chris for a long
moment and then reached out and grabbed his arm. He pinched
it...hard.

“Ouch! Hey, what was that for?”
Chris pulled back his arm and rubbed the red spot where he'd been
pinched.

“You aren't dreaming, Chris. This
is real. After what happened today, I had to speak to you. It's a
horrible risk, but I decided to chance it. I pray it doesn't come
back to haunt us later.”

Chris kept rubbing his arm until the
pain subsided. Yeah, you can't get hurt in a dream. Can you? He
looked at the red mark on his arm again, then back at his
doppelganger.

“This...is real?”

“It is real, Chris. As real as
our brief encounter was today.”

“Our brief...” Chris
suddenly backed up several steps. “That was you today? That
thing in the judge's office?”

The other Chris' shoulders sagged and
he looked down. “Yes, that was me. I am ashamed to admit it,
but I cannot lie.” He looked at Chris. “They are clever,
these mortals that you are with now. To draw me out like that.”
He turned and looked out over the plain. “It was pure reflex,
Chris. I never meant to frighten Anna, let alone hurt her. I'm
grateful that she's okay.”

Chris felt a stab of anger. “Okay?
You almost crushed her. If she hadn't closed that damned box, you
would have smashed her into the ground!”

The other Chris turned around and held
up his hands in denial. “Never! I would have stopped. I would
have...” His voice trailed off and he shook his head again. “Or
perhaps I wouldn't have. I don't know, really. All I truly know is
that I'm happy that she is unharmed.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.”
Chris' anger faded as he heard the honest regret in the other Chris'
voice. “So, what are you? Are you an archangel, like Anna
thought?”

The second Chris stared at him for a
long moment then made a gesture across the plain. “Would you
walk with me, Chris? We can talk as we go.”

“Yeah, I guess. But why walk
anywhere?”

Chris's twin set off and he fell into
step beside him.

“I have something to show you
before you leave, so we can talk until we reach our destination.”

“Out here?” Chris said
dubiously. “Okay then.”

“I want to tell you a story,
Chris,” his twin said. “I'll keep it brief. If your
absence is noticed before I send you back, it could cause
complications.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook
it out. A cloud of gray dust blew away in the wind.

“It's the story of Creation; sort
of. I have to tell it this way for you to understand who I am and
what you and I are meant to do.” The twin fell silent and
walked on for a few minutes. Chris glanced at him and, knowing that
face so well, assumed that he was collecting his thoughts. Finally,
the other Chris began to speak again.

“Before Creation there was
nothing, except God. Time has no meaning in the realm of the spirit,
so who can say how long He was alone.” The twin glanced at
Chris. “Understand that I will use words like He and Father to
describe God, but they are only references. God has no gender. It is
merely easier for me to speak of Him this way.”

Chris considered that for a moment. Of
course, it made sense.

“And then, God decided that He no
longer wanted to be alone. We can't know why. Certainly He has never
said. I believe that He was lonely. But that is only my thought. At
any rate, God decided to create companions. And because He had never
made another being, He used His own life force in the creation of
these beings.” The twin fixed Chris with a piercing stare. “Pay
close attention to this, Chris. God used His own essence to make
these new life forms.”

Chris didn't understand what was so
important about that point but he nodded anyway.

“Good. And the Lord created his
firstborn children. Three archangels, born in the same instance, were
brought into being. There was Michael, he who loves mortals more than
any other angel in Heaven. Michael the true. Michael the loyal.
Michael, in whom the love for God never wavers. He came into being.
And then there was he whose name I will not speak. The Angel of the
Morning. The most beautiful creature, after God, who has ever
existed. The thinker, the doubter, the questioner. He who fell to
Earth.” The twin stared at Chris. “Humans have named him
Satan.”

Chris' eyes widened. “You mean
Luci...” The other Chris cut him off.

“Do not say his name. Ever!”
Chris stared at him in confusion.

“But why? What's so bad about
saying a name?”

His twin sighed loudly and shook his
head. He stared ahead as they continued to walk.

“I know you've heard the
expression 'Speak of the devil', yes?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chris
replied, wondering what that had to do with anything. “You say
it when you're talking about someone and they walk in at the same
time.”

“Exactly.” The other Chris
turned to look at him. “The entire expression goes like this:
'Speak of the devil and he appears'. When you use that name, which is
rarely uttered in human society these days, you can attract that
monster's attention. He won't appear, of course, but it could draw
his gaze. And that you must never do.”

“Okay,” Chris said. “That's
weird.”

His twin laughed softly. “Indeed.
But it's true, so be warned. Now, to continue. The third archangel
who appeared at this first moment of Creation was different from the
other two. Loyal yes, but cautious. Loving certainly, but with
conditions. Accepting of all of God's laws, but willful. He was named
Sariel.” The twin stopped and turned to Chris. “That
archangel was me.”

Chris' eyes widened. “You?”
he gasped. “You were one of the first three angels ever
created?”

“Yes, Chris. Me. Imperfect.
Flawed. Always hesitant where I should have been bold. Doubting
myself. Yes, I am Sariel.” He smiled weakly. “Nice to
meet you.”

“Um, nice to meet you
too...Sariel.”

“Thanks, Chris. Let's keep
walking. Time is short.”

The pair walked on, slowly making their
way across the barren plain; little puffs of dust lifting with each
footstep and then being blown away by the gusting winds.

“And so the three, let us call
them brothers for simplicity's sake, were created. But God, who
learns from every action and reaction, realized that He need not use
His own essence in the creation of life and so used the power of His
thoughts as He created the next rank of archangels, and then the
angels; the seraphim and the cherubim and all the rest. But take
heed, Chris. Only those of us who were first, myself and my two
brothers, were created from the Lord's own body. Remember that; it
will be important later.”

Chris glanced at Sariel as they
continued to tramp across the plain. Although he had thought that the
supposed archangel was a perfect replica of himself, he was now
noticing differences; whether Sariel was changing or he was simply
paying more attention, Chris wasn't sure. But across his face, Chris
could now see faint scars; three of them that crossed diagonally from
the upper right temple to the lower left jaw. His twin was limping
slightly; his right leg dragged behind him as he raised it with each
step. And his mane of hair was even longer than Chris'; it hung down
over his eyes and flowed over his shoulders and halfway down his
back. Chris wondered what was going on and if he was just imagining
the changes. Sariel continued speaking.

“As each new child of God was
created, Heaven was extended. It grew in size and complexity,
becoming a realm of wonder and beauty and delighted the newly born
angels.” He became thoughtful again. “How long this
period lasted is impossible to say. Time has no meaning in the spirit
world. Heaven is ageless and eternal. But by and by, our Father
brought our limitless numbers together and spoke to us. He directed
us to witness a new creation. Another realm; the material world. An
altogether different environment than that of the spirit. And we
angels, we watchers, observed as with a thought, the Lord sparked the
instance that spawned the Universe.”

Chris almost tripped over his own feet
in surprise. “You saw the Universe created?” he asked in
awe.

“Oh yes, Chris. We were
privileged to be present at the birth of matter. It was magnificent,
and humbling to be allowed to share in our Father's work.” He
hesitated again. “But almost from the beginning, as we watched
enthralled as the Universe spread out, as galaxies were born, as
stars were formed and solar systems coalesced, as planets spun into
existence, my brother the doubter began to question God. 'What is the
point of this?' he asked. 'Is not Heaven great enough, boundless
enough to enjoy forever? Why create this imperfect, crude thing
called matter?'”

“He actually questioned God?”
Chris was shocked. “But, how could he? Isn't that, I dunno,
blasphemy or something?”

Sariel laughed, but with a note of
sadness. “Perhaps, Chris. But being of the firstborn, my
brother was bolder than most, and knew that God loved him and so was
never reluctant to make his doubts known. God simply did not answer.
Why should He? Why would God need to justify Himself to anyone, even
an archangel? I think...I think that that was the moment when my
beloved brother, my Angel of the Morning, began his slow descent into
betrayal and evil. That one question started him on the road to
ruin.”