The Wisdom of Evil (17 page)

Chapter
24

The morning of December twenty-first, two-thousand and twelve began like any other. A light snow had fallen the night before. It was just enough to cover the ground in a blanket of pure white. It was the day of the Winter Solstice. Although, this year, it was a notorious day with so much prophecy linked to it.

As in most household
s in the country, and probably around the world as well, their television was set to CNN.

The forecast said to expect snow flurries.
Yeah, right. In New England, a forecast of “snow flurries” could in reality be a major nor’easter. The historic blizzard of nineteen-seventy-eight was originally forecast as “snow flurries.”

The
day that was anticipated or dreaded, depending on personal and societal perceptions on what would occur on that day, was finally upon them.

The
Internet was laden with mind boggling information on the subject. There wasn’t a single media element that was not talking about or showing documentaries on the subject. The history channel ran
The Nostradamus Effect, Doomsday: 2012
and other specials all relating to the day.

The
religious prayed for rapture. Thousands of people lined up in prayer at the “wailing wall” in Jerusalem. The Catholics swarmed the Vatican. Every one of the Swiss guards was posted around Vatican City. The crowd was solemnly quiet, holding onto rosary beads, crucifixes, awaiting the second coming of Christ.

The
doomsayers stocked their homes with food, water and guns, ready for a catastrophe of global proportions.

According to the Mayan calendar, the grand cycle of the evolution of the earth
would culminate on this particular Winter Solstice. What that meant, one could only theorize. And theories certainly abounded.

Glory and Mickey
thought the Mayans, who were gifted astrologers, predicted a religious miracle or a new age of enlightenment, not doomsday at all. Or perhaps, the calendar itself simply was not designed to count dates beyond the year two-thousand twelve. There were many others who thought that too.

In the first light of morning,
she walked to Michael’s and Haley’s grave as she did every morning. The sky was gray, overcast with snow clouds hovering ominously. At the moment, it wasn’t snowing. She took advantage of that and strolled lazily through the woods, walking downward toward the small pond they’d often fished at when Michael had been alive. It was there she heard a sound, one that wasn’t a part of the familiar sounds of nature.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she listened closely.

A scratching sound and a weak whimper were coming from somewhere in the open field littered with tall, uncut grass. There! Something made of steel, barely visible. That’s where the noise was coming from.

She walked slowly toward the area
, and then much faster, realizing that the sound was the scratching of a trapped animal. The whimpering was weak and pathetic as if its life were ebbing out slowly but surely.

At last
, she came upon what appeared to be a small pet crate, the type made of a steel bottom with wiring on the top and all four sides.  Good God! It was freezing out! She ran toward it.

“Jesus,” she whispered
, kneeling down beside the crate. The tiny creature clawing and chewing at the wire was a puppy, approximately four months old. Around his mouth were cuts and dried blood. His paws were cut and bleeding as well. Most of the new crates had wiring that the animal couldn’t hurt itself on. This one did not. It looked like it was home-made.

The pup
looked up at her with great big brown eyes framed in a small tan face. Its eyebrows were black and slanted upward, making him look perpetually worried. Ears standing straight up, with black markings around his nose and eyes, it looked similar to a baby dear, a fawn.

Without further delay, she unlatched the lock on the crate and lifted the creature out and into her arms.
Turning him over, she determined that it was a male. It pierced her heart how painfully thin he was. His ribs and hip bones protruded grotesquely and his long, thin legs were like spindles on a delicately carved chair. He weakly licked her hand with a mouth that was dry of saliva. He was shivering uncontrollably. She wrapped her coat around him, knowing this animal was near death from dehydration, exposure or both.

Looking
on all sides of the meadow, she saw no one. No tire tracks either. How could someone do this to such an innocent and helpless animal? And to trap him like that! Not even just letting him loose where he might have a chance. She was sad and angry all at once. It was obvious to her that someone had thrown him away, knowing full well that he’d die a slow and agonizing death. It was only by sheer luck that Glory happened to walk down here.

Glory
truly believed that how one treated those in his or her care, those who could not fend for themselves, was evidence of one’s humanity or lack thereof.

And yet…this little dog, still a baby, licked her hand and showed trust to a human being even when trust was not deserved. The human
-animal bond had not been broken. After an unspeakable betrayal, this pup was still able to love.

She carried him to the house, kicking the crate into the thick brush and
tall weeds at the base of the pond, venting her anger on it. She would come back and destroy it later.

Mickey was
immediately on guard. “Did you see anyone else out there?”

“No, no one.”

He went off to get water while Glory took a warm face cloth and wiped away the blood and dirt from his mouth and paws.

As was expected, the pup lapped at the small bowl of water furiously, still licking at it
even when it was empty. She’d only given him a little of the liquid and a tiny handful of kibble, knowing he would be sick if given too much at once in his condition.

After he finished his meager meal, he stood up on shaky legs and wagged his tail cautiously with his head
down.  Glory took him out to the old barn and washed him down gently but thoroughly with tepid water and her favorite dog shampoo, Fresh n’ Clean.

“Oh you are so handsome
, you little cutester,” she praised him in a tender, soft spoken voice, and he reciprocated with what she assumed was a genuine smile. The small black snout crinkled up showing his teeth. However, his head was still bowed.

“You know what, you little sweetheart? I think we’ll call you
Zeus. After all, I found you on this special day. Whadda yah think? You’d have to be some kinda god to survive what you did. Is that okay with you?” She held his petite chin in the palm of her hand.

This time,
he looked up at her. His eyes, almost too big for his tiny face, fixed upon her own and her heart melted. She fell totally in love with him right then and there.

Glory was even more shocked thinking about how anyone could do this to such a
sweet dog as Zeus.

She knew
times were tough, that people were taking their pets to the overwhelmed shelters in droves. They simply couldn’t afford to care for them anymore. But this—flat out abandonment was cold, callous, and downright cruel.

In the house, washing and loving this little guy who needed her, she realized she needed him too. Believing that she’d never be able to love another dog like she
had Haley proved untrue. This single act of kindness on her part gave her the strength to believe that one person could make a difference. Haley would
always
be her “soul mate animal,” but still, there were different kinds of love and no love was any less than the other. She’d take Zeus and love him for who he was, without comparing him to Haley.

Still, as the
noon hour approached, nothing had yet happened on this day. As she listened to the drone of the television, she pondered about what the modern world had become.

Perhaps,
wanting to extract the honest wisdom of nature and make money off it by any means possible, they’d pushed themselves off their true course, that which brought a sane and healthy way of life. Humanity had diverged so far from the natural ways they were genetically encoded to live. Their accelerated technology was, in reality, a break away from the natural world. This never ending quest for better and faster technology, she was sure would result in permanent damage to the earth, humankind, and the many other species they shared the planet with.

T
hat story of the Ik mountain people of Africa had never left Glory’s mind. She feared their fate would eventually be theirs as well. In contrast, the Ik became an inhumane society due to starvation; western civilization might be brought to the same fate by technology and greed. What difference was there? The end result would be the same.

Maybe Michael and Mickey were
right about her after all; the wheels in her head never stopped. Even if some of what she thought was truth, her mind never slowed and it was wearing her out. She’d see a psychiatrist the next day. In the clear light of day, with Mickey here and this little guy to take care of, she felt foolish. But, then again, there was no way her imagination could produce something like the Reaper.
He
was real. She hated herself sometimes for being so contradictory in her thoughts and actions. But, on the other hand, weren’t most people walking contradictions, the sum of many parts, sometimes acting in ways that went against the very grain of their core personality?

Chapter 25

A few short minutes after the clock struck the
noon hour, the house was illuminated with a strange, soft light. The source of this soothing light came from above, from the sky.

Standing just outside of the back door,
Glory stood with the dog still in her arms. Mickey was standing in the clearing outside, looking up, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the intense bright light. The light cast a bluish hue on the pure white snow.

What they witnessed that day
in the overcast sky was more astounding and beautiful than anything they’d ever witnessed upon the Earth.

“
Is that what I think it is…are you
seeing
this?”

“I…see it, but…I don’t know if it is what it
seems to be.”

“
It’s special, Mom. I know that you don’t believe…” His words trailed off.

Glory
didn’t know what to believe, for there as far as the eye could see, was a translucent, rainbow-colored
cross
. From behind the cross itself, sunlight shone on and around all sides of it. Pulsating as if it were alive, it wavered but held its shape. What on this earth could cause such a phenomena? She’d witnessed the famous Northern Lights, seen only in the extreme cold of the northern regions and as spectacular as the blue and green lights in the sky were they were a natural phenomenon.

This was something more
. Surely, it was not of this world. As she stood, a silent spectator to this miraculous event, the most calming peace enveloped her entire being. She let go of everything she’d ever struggled with and let this wonderful feeling take her with it, flowing, ebbing, and pulsing with love and peace and all things that were good in the world.

She
couldn’t describe it any better. It was beyond mere words, beyond her realm of understanding, but there it was! Claiming her whether she resisted its peace or not. However, she had no intentions of resisting it, for this kind of peace was addicting.

There was no pretentiousness in th
at light. It was truly pure, not made or touched by mankind and yet, it was visible to them.

Perhaps it was a warning from the Almighty
himself that they’d gone too far, that he was ready to sweep away this corrupt world and bring about a new one, one based on the true origins of man. But, then again, there wasn’t any malevolent feeling attached to it at all.

“My God!”
For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t merely mimic the words as an expression. Instead, the words were spoken in awestruck reverence to mankind’s maker. All her doubts were swept away and she cried tears of joy and relief for that which she had so long denied—that God really
did
exist and he was finally willing to show proof of such. She knelt down in humble awe.

“Mom?”

Do you…see it? It’s God’s own light, Mickey.”

“I do…but I’ve always known He was there. So did Dad,” he said gently, not judging her, merely stating a fact. He walked forward, deeper into the open field to get a better look at the cross. It had not wavered or begun to dissipate at all.

“
I’ve never felt like this in my entire life, even in that other place, where you’re dad and Olivia are…”

“What other place?”

“I saw them, Mickey, both of ‘em and Nana Joan, and they…I think I was in heaven. It was yesterday when you found me after I’d fainted. I thought it was a dream, but now…I’m not so sure anymore.”

“There’s more than we know out there. This proves it
.” He pointed at the unearthly beauty in the sky.

“So, I guess I’m okay then? I mean
, the Grim Reaper? Isn’t it possible he could really exist?”

“
No, I don’t think so.”

“You saw that night! You know you did, Mickey.
Something
was pulling my arm under those bed covers! You were
there!”

“
Look, Mom. I really don’t wanna argue with you right now. Why don’t you run in the house and get the camera, check on Zeus?”

“Al
l right.” She walked toward the house, still gazing up at the sky.

She’d no sooner walked through the door when she detected a flash of red coloring in her peripheral vision. She took a sharp intake of breath at the display on the kitchen window.

RIP ME TO SHREDS!

Turning every which way, she felt as if she were spinning in a powerful whirlpool
. The words appeared everywhere, dripping with blood. Even on the walls now, the screen of the television, the surfaces of the couch, the beds, everywhere she looked; it was there!

RIP
ME TO SHREDS! The words were as mocking as the ensuing laughter;
he
was here.

She ran for the door, “
Mickey
!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. The door slammed with a loud bang; the
click-clack
of the locking mechanisms fell into place, locked by an invisible hand.

Desperately, she ran for the front door.
Slam, bang, click
! The door was inaccessible. She pulled on the door knob and it came off in her hand. Incredulous, she looked through the gaping hole where the knob used to be, all the while yelling for Mickey to come.

A single glowing green eye greeted her in that hole. She stepped away in horror
. She ran blindly now, heading for the windows. She’d climb out one of them. But, wait, they were
barred
! Fuck it, she’d break them. She got a hammer and swung at the glass over and over. Not even a single crack appeared!

“
Mom
!” Mickey shouted from what seemed like miles away. “
I can’t get in
!” He yanked at the door, and then went to the window Glory was banging on. He grabbed an axe from the wood pile.

“Stand back!” The axe hit the bars first
; nothing. He hit a spot in the glass itself. It simply would not break! Glory watched his face change. His eyes widened in disbelief and he pointed his finger toward her screaming, “
Behind you
!”

She turned too late. The Grim
Reaper had its bony fingers wrapped around her throat! She froze in fear. She felt the cold bone digging into her neck! Using the knife lying on the counter, she somehow had the forethought to slide the blade under one of its wrists, prying it loose from her.

Zeus had come from where he’d been lying on the blanket, growling, teeth bared. His spindly legs
, although still weak, were long enough to allow him to make a running jump at the Reaper’s head. He released his grip on her throat.

Running, looking for a safe haven
, she heard a loud pounding throughout the entire house. It vibrated, so loud, like a stick of dynamite had exploded over and over again. Mickey’s frenzied screaming came from afar. Zeus followed right behind her. She slammed and locked the bathroom door.

More sounds now. The sound of a guitar playing, low at first and then resonating off the walls
as it mingled with the loud thumping and banging, as if thousands were banging their fists on the doors, windows, the sides and roof of the house. She knew this song; the melody stopped her in her tracks. The guitar playing was so very beautiful. It was a song she’d known years ago and loved still. She remembered the song had been built around this guitar riff written by Buck Dharma. Nineteen-seventy-six, yes, it was…

She’d hidden in the master bathroom and still, s
hadowy, elongated arms reached from under the doorway, just shadow without substance.

There was no mistaking this song
.
(Don’t fear) The Reaper!

“Yeeeessssss,
it’ssss our sooong.” The Reaper’s voice hissed from beyond the door; the shadowy hands turned to that black smoke she’d seen in the past.
He’s coming for me!
She thought. This time, he wouldn’t disappear like he had all the other times. This was the time for her to move her piece on the chess board, time for the king to come out and fight, or perish.

The
poignant song played on. She picked her brain, trying to remember just what the meaning of the lyrics was. Death! Death and the maiden! Was she the maiden then?

The melody of the guitar riff
was poignant and haunting as it placed on and on.

“You cannot win, Glory
. You shall be mine, in this time and place. I will not wait for you any longer. I grow tired of a game in which I cannot lose! You know it’s true.”

She wouldn’t go with him without a fight.
How she
hated
him!

And the song…

Think, Glory! There’s a clue in that song
! The meaning of it had been misinterpreted; people had originally thought that it was about a murder/suicide pact, but that was not what the writer had intended! Still, the piece of the puzzle eluded her.

As the
black smoke rose, the white bones of the hands became visible, as did his face. She charged for the door, going right through him; the air was as cold as the grave.

She came to a halt in the middle of the living room, looking around her at all the family pictures, all marked with the same bright red words:
RIP ME TO SHREDS! She needed Michael more than she’d ever needed anyone in her entire life!

Closing her eyes, not caring where the
Reaper was, she prayed for strength. From deep down in her soul, she prayed. In a way she hadn’t since she had been a small child when the innocence of childhood made believing in God easy, before the age of reason. Reason had been her undoing, after all. The Thantophobia was born of reason, was it not? She was intelligent, inquisitive and questioning, always searching for…answers, no matter the cost to her sanity!

How much more proof did she need? At this very moment, the Grand
Cross blazed across the sky outside. When she’d fainted in the kitchen, she truly believed she’d caught a glimpse of heaven. Michael was with her, right now, in this very moment, in her
heart
, just as he’d said he’d be. With all these sources of strength, she could defeat the Grim Reaper.

She stopped running
and stood her ground. She’d end this right here, right now!

He stood no more than a foot from her, his arms open, welcoming.

Her head was literally pounding now, in rhythm with the banging throughout the house, echoing, bouncing off the walls of her brain. And the song played on and on. Still, she couldn’t grasp the message there. Surely, there was one. It was hidden from her conscious mind; she’d have to dig deep. The answer was paramount to her survival; the key to winning this final exchange.

Think, Glory, think!

The answer came to her in a stunning revelation. She remembered what the song was really about. It wasn’t about a murder/suicide pact, nor was it meant to portray death as “evil.” Dharma had written it as a type of psychological message; in part, hoping to quell the very human fear of death. The lyrics were about a love that transcended the physical existence of the lovers.

The only hand she’d ever take upon her death would be that of her
own
love, that of Michael!

“Michael,” she whispered
, looking at the thing before her in a new light.

Michael’s voice
, coming from the very depths of her heart, her soul; he was telling her something…a wisp of words. “Rip…him…to…shreds…”

“Haaaaaaahaaaaahaaaahaaaa.” The
Reaper laughed sarcastically, amused with her.

“You’re an even more foolish woman than I thought
if you think Michael, who lies in his grave moldering, can save you!”

All sounds disappeared. No banging through the house. Mickey’s shouts
were unheard. The music stopped as if on cue. It was only Michael’s voice telling her what needed to be done. “It’s time for the King to come out and fight. And that piece on the board belongs to
you
, Glory!
Rip him to shreds
!

With a newfound courage and conviction, she lunged at the
Reaper, pulling at its very cloak. The fabric ripped. She kept attacking, pushing it backward, relentless, cornering the thing as if it couldn’t move. Of course, it could, it had! Yet, it did not. The skeletal hands grabbed for her throat with a guttural cry. Whipping out her gun, she smashed them with the butt of it before they connected with her neck. The Reaper screamed and laughed at once, a maniacal, frightening sound, but she didn’t care. She had ripped through its sleeves, and went for the hood.

The bony fingers went up to its face, guarding it, but she’d already stuck her entire fist into it, feeling a gulf of nothingness, until she opened her fingers wide.
Feeling the gel of its eyeballs, she gouged at them. With her free hand, she ripped away its mask.

“End Game, mothah fucker!”
she screamed.