Chapter Nine

Zac felt the car stop with a lurch.  He quietly breathed a sigh of relief that the roller coaster car ride was now over.  He figured if he could live through that, he could live through anything.  The blaring CD player stopped abruptly – the sounds of Weird fading into nothingness.

Zac listened carefully – he could hear Noah pulling the keys from the ignition switch and mumbling something unintelligible; then, the sound of crinkling plastic invaded the silence.  It was a candy wrapper.  Zac knew that because it was discarded into the backseat and he had to pick it out of his hair.

 He felt Noah lean against the passenger seat and heard what sounded like the glove compartment being opened.  He heard the clink of metal as the glove compartment was closed and Noah moved back over to the driver's seat.  Curious about the metallic sound, Zac slowly and cautiously ventured a glance around the seat to see what Noah was doing.

He had to withhold the gasp that formed in his throat when he saw the gun resting on Noah's leg.  A cold shiver crawled up Zac's spine as he watched Noah push the clip into the handle of the gun and pull back the slide.  Noah flipped what Zac believed to be the gun's safety switch.

He's going to do it!  He's really going to do it!  Oh God…no!

"Are you there, God?" Noah said suddenly, startling Zac.  "Hello?" 

Silence.  Zac felt his eyes fill with tears and his stomach go sour.  He was scared – terrified out of his mind.  He wanted to jump up and pull the gun away from Noah, but his body refused to move.  His joints were frozen solid – they wouldn't stir an inch.

"Just as I thought," Noah said.  "No answer."  He held the gun up in the air.  "This is where it ends, God.  I guess I wasn't strong enough."

Noah opened the car door, stepped out, and slammed the door with all of his anger.  Zac felt the car shake.  He ventured a glance outside and noticed Noah standing by the rear door. 

He was crying.  Well, not just crying, sobbing.  Zac had never seen anyone cry like this before.  For a moment, Noah turned towards him and Zac looked into his eyes. 

What he saw was astounding.

So much pain…

Zac had heard Noah talk about his depression before, but he'd never truly understood it.  Zac had been sad before, sure, but he'd never known the suffering he was witnessing right before his eyes.  He wanted to wrap his arms around Noah and never let him go.  He wanted to tell Noah how much he loved him, how much he meant to so many people.

He opened his mouth to speak.  The words were clear in his mind, but they apparently never made it passed that point.  It came out as a raspy whisper, clouded with fear and anxiety.  He tried once again with the same results.

He was powerless.

His mind raced to find a solution – some way that he could prevent the obvious tragedy that was about to unfold, possibly before his very eyes.  With much frustration and hopelessness he turned his head toward heaven.

Oh God…please help Noah.  Help him, Lord.  He needs you.  Please don't let him die.  Oh, please…

Noah tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and walked away from the car and out of Zac's vision.  "Oh Lord," Zac gasped.  "Please no –"



Andrew was standing in the park watching Noah as he felt the evil presence fill the space around him.  He knew right away that it was a fallen one – a dark angel.  They were the ones that had joined Satan in his attempt to overthrow heaven those many years ago and were cast out.  They now roamed the Earth making life miserable for humans – the exact opposite of an angel's job.

He looked around, waiting for the foul demon to make itself visible.  He wondered who it would be this time.  On a number of occasions he'd had the opportunity to work against a fair share of the enemy's ranks.  All of them were the same – cocky, arrogant, and extremely disrespectful of humans.

Just like God saw each human being as a special creation to be loved and cherished, the enemy saw them as cattle for the slaughter.  Satan was going down when it was all said and done and he was determined to take as many of God's children with him that he could.

"Hello, Andy," a familiar voice said.

Andrew turned around to a face he'd not seen since before man was created – an old friend – a colleague.  He felt a little uneasy.  "Hello, Sebastian," he said carefully.

"Didn't expect to see me, did you?"

"No."

Sebastian was dressed in a black suit, shirt, and tie; his wavy reddish-brown hair was perfectly coiffed.  He wore a pair of black leather boots on his feet.  His very presence was enough to send chills up even Andrew's spine.

"Still doing that death gig, Andy?" Sebastian asked.

"It's Andrew, and, yes, I'm still the angel of death."

Sebastian laughed.  "It's a lot of theatrics if you ask me," he said, "appearing in a warm glow of light and riding some kind of golden escalator up to heaven.  All those glittery lights and shit.  What's that all about anyway?"  He laughed again.  "Your Journey to Heaven," he said in a radio announcer voice.  "A film by Steven Spielberg."

Andrew just stared solemnly at him.  He wasn't going to let Sebastian get to him.

"Our guys got the right idea," Sebastian said.  "Two or three huge bug-looking things with leathery wings appear outta nowhere and drag their ass to hell.  Now that's what I call theatrics."  He put his hand on Andrew's shoulder.  "I'll give you one thing though, you certainly dress better than our guys.  Nice suit."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm working, Andy," Sebastian responded.  "Everybody's gotta earn a living, you know.  There are no free lunches in hell, boy.  They make you work your ass off.  However, the rewards are great.  I'll be lord over my own city soon.  Nope, none of that running around in million-dollar suits telling people that God loves them for us."

"No," Andrew responded, "you just go around ruining people's lives – wreaking havoc."

"Andy, Andy, Andy," Sebastian said with an evil grin.  "Havoc is a strong word.  I like to refer to it as pure, unadulterated mayhem.  Besides, there's no love lost between those foolish mortals and us.  Their like lambs, ripe for the killing.  Man, I love this job.

"But to answer your question, I'm here for our boy Noah."

"Noah?"

"Yeah, Noah," Sebastian responded.  "The man downstairs wants me to provide a little superfluous influence on this suicide thing."

"These people – Noah – never did anything to you, Sebastian.  Why mess with their lives like this?  Why destroy them?"

Sebastian laughed.  "You don't get it, do ya, Andy?  God loves them, but we love them too.  It's like I said before, we all have a job to do."

Andrew stood strong and silent.  How could someone who'd once loved God so much, now have so much hatred for Him?  It still amazed Andrew how so many – a third of the angels – could have been coerced so easily into following Lucifer in his rebellion.  Now, those who were once friends fought each other for the souls of the living.


"Come on," Sebastian said, "you think it's a coincidence I'm here?  Hell, no!"  He laughed.  "No pun intended.  The boss knew you and I were once pretty close and thought it would be fun to pair us up.  Ain't that a kick in the pants, Andy?  No hard feelings though, right?"

"Oh no," Andrew responded, "of course not.  I just hope you realize that I'm not giving up Noah without a fight.  What was it you said, Sebastian?  'We all have a job to do.'"

"Oh you're so forceful," Sebastian said flirtatiously.  "It's turning me on."

Andrew frowned once again. 

"Relax, I'm just yanking your chain."  Sebastian winked.  "Nice to see ya again."

"The pleasure was all mine."

Sebastian looked sternly at Andrew for a moment and then smiled again.  "You got balls, Andy.  I like that.  You'd have made a shitty bad guy though."  He looked up; Noah was swiftly approaching them.  "Here comes our boy.  See ya on the battlefield."

With that Sebastian turned and walked away, fading surreptitiously into the night.



A familiar tune met Taylor's ears as he found himself once again walking in the park.  He looked around for the source of the noise, struggling to see clearly.  His vision had taken on somewhat of a misty quality; it was blurring things just enough to keep him from being sure what he was looking at. 

Not knowing what else to do, he walked toward the source of the music.  It has one Hanson's own songs, Weird, the Desmond Child Mix.  As he grew closer, the music became louder and louder, forcing him to put his hands to his ears block it out.  Finally, he approached a large, white object.  He carefully put out his hand to try and feel what it was.

Metal.  Smooth.

He ran his hands farther down the object and felt a handle.

A door handle!  It was a car!

He slowly pulled up on the handle and the door opened, causing a rush of sound that he could literally feel.  Taylor pushed against the surge, forcing himself to endure the insanely loud music.  He reached out toward the dashboard and found the volume knob – he turned it swiftly to the left.

Amazingly, as the sound disappeared, so did the fog – he could now see clearly.  He looked out over the park, straining to catch any sign of Noah.  Taylor craned his neck to try and see around the large, wooden playground equipment.  Then, as his line of sight caught a break through the monkey bars, he saw him.

Noah!

He was at the very edge of a large wooded area, the same one Taylor had dreamed about earlier.  He was walking like a robot into the trees, disappearing once again from Taylor's point of view.  Mentally marking the spot from which Noah entered the forest, Taylor jumped from the Corolla and broke into a sprint.

Taylor had to slow a bit crossing the playground, it was covered with sand; he felt at least a half-a-ton fly into his shoes as he made his way around the equipment, dodging the merry-go-round, the see-saw, and the swings.  Clearing the slide by a good six inches, Taylor reached the edge of the playground.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eight

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