Wings of Destruction (3 page)

Sarah grabbed Martin’s hand and pulled him down an alley as three goons strolled by. Martin held his breath, afraid that the slightest sound would give them away. The thugs wandered past, engaged in conversation and completely oblivious to their presence. Martin and Sarah waited until they were long gone before continuing their journey.

The sun was rising in the distance as they approached the town hall. The building mimicked Greek architecture, great stone pillars supporting the structure. Wide steps led up to the entrance. Red flags and makeshift banners marked it as the base for the Scrapers, one of three gangs that were vying for power over Ragnor’s chaos. Their red clothing and gas masks stood out in the half-light. Guards stood at every pillar, a well-organized militia despite their bloodthirsty nature.

Sarah and Martin ducked into a doorway to remain out of sight. Martin peered around the corner of a crumbling building, surveying the scene. The guards patrolled relentlessly, scrutinizing the area with a fine-toothed comb.

"How are we going to get anywhere near their base?" Martin hissed. "There’s no way we can get past all those guards!"

"We have to wait for a distraction. This area is hotly contested. It’s only a matter of time before the Rivells decide to mount a little skirmish. They’ve been testing the Scrapers’ defenses for days now. That’s how I got away in the first place."

They waited in silence until the sound of gunfire erupted nearby. A grenade exploded. The guards were drawn away, little dots of red running towards the blue-uniformed Rivells. The two sides were locked in heated battle. Martin saw a Rivell go down in a hail of gunfire and he started to shake, real fear flooding his veins as the man lay dying in a pool of his own blood.

"Now’s our chance," Sarah hissed. "Go!"

Martin and Sarah rushed forward, running across the town square as though their lives depended on it. The soldiers didn’t so much as notice their unsubtle approach, tied up as they were in their bloody skirmish with the Rivells. Martin spotted a couple of green Danger uniforms looking on from the sidelines as well, and realized all three gangs were going to keep each other busy for a while.

They rushed up the steps two and three at a time, ducking behind a pillar as a platoon of red uniforms darted out from inside the building, rushing into the square to join the fray. Martin felt sweat trickle down his brow as they crept into the town hall via a side door. Sarah pointed downwards, gesturing to the rooms in the basement. Martin nodded. His hands were sweaty on the grip of his gun and he held on tighter, afraid the firearm might slip from his fingers.

Sarah watched a guard disappear around the corner, running his regular patrol despite the chaos outside. Sarah led Martin to the open elevator. Martin didn’t breathe out until the doors closed.

"There shouldn’t be any guards stationed below during an attack," Sarah said.

The elevator came to a standstill, and the elevator doors opened with a chime. They found themselves in a dark corridor, the only light coming from one flickering strip-light. The gangs had figured out how to generate power, but not how to create replacement bulbs.

Martin looked through a narrow glass pane in one of the former office windows. He saw a naked man curled up in the corner, head resting on his knees.

"There has to be some way to help these people." Martin tried the door, but a red light blinked, denying him access. Martin saw the keycard lock on the door and realized he couldn’t get in.

"We came here for Anael. Close your heart and concentrate on him. You can’t save everyone.” Sarah put her hand on Martin’s arm, pulling him away.

Martin looked through each and every window. He saw men, women, and children cooped up in the tiny rooms. The thought of what the Scrapers might do to children made him sick to his stomach and he forced himself to think of other things, lest he knock the doors down in desperation.

At the end of the hall, he looked through the final window and gasped. Anael sat hunched up against a dirty white wall, his wings battered and bleeding. A nasty cut on his forehead had dried. His clothing had been torn off by force and it lay in a heap on the tiled floor. Martin felt himself shaking. He tried pulling on the door and got the same red light in response to his efforts.

"Let me try." Sarah looked at the keycard panel. "Give me the feather."

Martin handed over the feather. Sarah pried open the panel with the hard stem and held two wires together until one shorted out. The light turned green and Martin opened the door. Sarah held the door open and stood watch while Martin rushed to Anael’s side.

Martin knelt down beside the angel. Anael flinched as Martin touched his face, pulling away.

"No... No more."

"Anael, it’s me. Martin." Anael’s hair was matted and tangled, and Martin felt his stomach turn as he contemplated the dried, white, peeling patches on the angel’s skin that could only be semen. Tears stung Martin’s eyes and his hands shook with fear for Anael.

"What are you doing here?" Anael’s eyes regained some of their former lavender brightness. “You were supposed to summon Gabriel and tell him this world is past saving.”

"I couldn’t leave you here,” Martin whispered.

"It wouldn’t have mattered. This physical body would have been destroyed by the Black Rain. I would have been spirited back to Heaven."

"So it’s true." Sarah stood with one hand against the door, holding it open. "You did come here to destroy the world."

"That’s right." Anael got to his feet, supported by Martin. "That’s what I intend to do. This world cannot be redeemed. I will destroy it." His eyes hardened, steely determination focusing the tortured angel. "These sinners will spend Eternity in Hell. I will make sure of it."

*~*~*

Martin supported Anael as they made their exit through a back door in the basement. An alarm sounded, but they were long gone before any of the Scrapers realized what was going on. Most likely the Scrapers would think the Rivells had stolen their prize prisoner and would seek revenge. Martin realized he could care less if gang members died because of Anael’s escape. Deep down, he hoped they suffered long, excruciating deaths for what they had done.

They hurried through narrow alleyways and broken buildings on their way back to Martin’s house. When they reached the hovel, Sarah lay down on the couch while Martin took Anael into the bedroom and set about washing him from head to toe. His tender hands moved the sponge over Anael’s body without the slightest hint of wanton desire, tenderly washing away the evidence of Anael’s violation and squeezing the sponge into the cold water, feeling the leftover seed stain his hand with a sick feeling inside.

"I’m so sorry," Martin whispered. "I should have come with you."

"You would only have been captured as well and subjected to the same torture as I. I am glad you did not follow me." Anael sat still as Martin dried him with a worn towel and produced an ancient hairbrush. He sat on the bed and gently teased the knots from Anael’s hair.

"If you want to destroy the world, I will help you." Martin tossed the towel onto the floor. "I don’t know what I was hanging on to, why I wanted to keep this wretched place alive. Because of my hesitation, you—"

"No. This is not your fault, Martin. I had to know what this world was really about before I could come to a decision." He plucked a broken feather from his wing and let it float down to the floor, where it remained. "I do not set the rules for Paradise, my friend. Gabriel chooses which souls shall enter and which shall go to Hell or remain in Purgatory. I do not know what sins lie upon your soul."

"You don’t know if I’ll go to Heaven or Hell," Martin realized.

"That’s correct."

"Oh." Martin turned the hairbrush over and over in his hand. "I don’t know what would be considered a sin, given my circumstances. Guess it depends how strict the rules are."

"Have you ever killed someone?" Anael asked.

"No." He thought about the gun, now safely locked away, and how he would have killed a gang member to save Anael. He would have taken down any man who stood between him and Anael with no regrets.

"Ever raped or violated someone?"

"Absolutely not." Anael smiled at Martin’s firm response.

"Stolen anything?"

"Only to feed myself."

"I wouldn’t worry about it, then."

"I did try to take my own life." Martin reminded Anael.

"You didn’t succeed." Anael stood up, turning to face Martin, who was still sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I shall personally petition Gabriel to accept your soul into Heaven."

"You would do that for me?" Martin felt tears stinging his eyes, moved by the angel’s opinion of him.

"Of course. You risked your own life to protect me. You have been a loyal friend."

Friend. It was a gentle word. He wasn’t being owned, wasn’t a servant, but a friend of this magnificent angel standing before him. Tears swam in his eyes. He didn’t deserve the honor of being Anael’s friend. He was worthless. He deserved death, not redemption, as far as he was concerned.

"So what do we do now?" Martin blinked back his tears and tried to repress his dark thoughts.

"We must return to Spire Rock. I will speak with Gabriel and receive further instructions.”

"Will it hurt to die?" Martin stood up, tossing the hairbrush aside. The same fear that had possessed him during his suicide attempt resurfaced, but part of him relished the thought of divine judgment, of fire searing his body away until he was only dust.

"I suppose it might. I am sorry that you have to suffer because of this wicked world." Anael stepped forward and enveloped Martin in his wings, holding him in his gentle embrace. Martin rested his head on Anael’s chest, the angel’s comfort flowing through his body.

"Will I see you in Paradise?" Martin pulled away. "I don’t want to lose the only friend I’ve ever had."

"Come on, now, that’s not true. You told me you have had mates."

“Nobody has ever been so kind to me as you. No one has ever offered their friendship and wanted nothing in return."

"I will never be far from you. Just think of me and I will be there."

"Thank you." Martin felt his throat tightening, unnamed emotion overflowing and threatening to spill. He took a deep breath in and excused himself, extricating himself from Anael’s wings and making his way into the living room, where Sarah was helping herself to a can of beans.

"I wouldn’t eat those if I was you.” Martin eyed the rusted can with a skeptical glance.

"Has to be better than most of the shit they gave me at Scrapers HQ. I don’t think they care if the food they serve is fit to eat."

Martin lowered his head. He’d momentarily forgotten about the ordeal Anael and Sarah had endured in their prison. He’d taken comfort from Anael when he should have been the one giving it. As if hearing his thoughts, Anael appeared behind him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. The dark tendrils of depression and self-doubt coiled inside him, reminding him that he’d been too late to save Anael. Martin pulled away from Anael’s hand, slumping into a broken chair.

"We should rest. We’ll leave for Spire Rock at first light.” Anael shot Martin a concerned look, but said nothing.

Sarah curled up on the couch. Anael took the mattress. Martin dozed in the chair until a nightmare shook him awake. He bit his lip to stifle a scream. He climbed the rotting stairs to the upstairs balcony, where he was surprised to see Anael standing in the moon’s light. He looked holy. Martin simply stood there looking at him, entranced by this beautiful being standing amongst the rotting wood and peeling paint of his hovel.

"Are you okay, Martin?” Anael asked.

"I just had a nightmare, that’s all." Martin stepped out onto the balcony. A distant gunshot echoed through the city, followed by the sound of human howling.

"I will keep you safe." Anael held out his hand and Martin took it, allowing himself to be drawn closer to Anael.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you." Martin held onto the railing with one hand, his other hand still entwined with Anael’s and looked out at the city bathed in moonlight.

"Soon, none of it will matter. It will all be dust, dissolved by the Black Rain. God will return and create anew, washing away the multitude of sins that have been amassed in this place." Anael looked at the dark skies with something akin to hope.

"We’re just one more failed creation. It wasn’t always like this, you know. We used to be mostly good, striving for a better life. Financial collapse took everything from us. Greed washed away everything that we had built. Not that I remember those days. My grandfather told me stories of the great empires that ruled Earth before the cataclysm." Martin shook his head. "We brought this on ourselves. We deserve our fate."

"You should rest, Martin. Tomorrow will be a trying day." Anael put his arm around Martin. Martin could feel the brush of his wing against his shirt as glorious white feathers surrounded him.

"What if I do go to Hell?"

"You won’t. I would never let that happen."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep. I keep seeing the world melting into a sea of blood."

"I will hold you as you sleep." Anael walked to the door and reached out his hand. "Come. I will ensure you suffer no dreams."

Martin followed. In other times, he had understood these kinds of invitations to mean a mate wanted to initiate sexual contact, but he understood that Anael was honest in his desire to give only comfort. He felt warmth well up in his heart as he lay down on his mattress and felt the brush of wings against his skin, a gentle arm wrapped around him. Anael’s hand didn’t grope or yearn to take, just gently rested upon his body. He smelled like a warm spring day, and Martin cherished the sensation of safety before closing his eyes and falling into a deep, restful sleep.

Martin woke to the sight of daylight streaming through the window. Anael was gone. Martin missed the warm shape of the angel beside him. He got up from the mattress and wandered into the kitchen. Sarah was slumped over the couch, sleeping on her stomach in a most un-ladylike manner. Anael crouched in the kitchen, looking out of the window with wary eyes. He gestured to Martin to get down with a quieting finger over his lips as Martin heard the sound of heavy boots outside. Martin ducked down behind the cabinets and made his way to Anael’s side.