This post is Copyright 2007 Jeremy Osborne, All Rights Reserved.
I wait in the indigo darkness for my destiny in this world, and according to my predictions it should happen right… about… now! A brilliant yellow blast ignites over the fountain, sizzling away my night sight. A moment later the bell in the clock tower heralds the first warning of midnight, the thunder after the flash of lightning. As expected, hell likes to be on time.
My vision returns quickly, details dribbling down like the broad brushstrokes of a sloppily painted mural. One quarter of the moon illuminates the sky behind a fan of feathered cirrus clouds. I scan the north sky for Polaris, but can only find Venus poking a hole through the night’s canopy. The visual remnants from the yellow flash dissipate into an orangish urbanized glow, sending a blaze across the distant horizon.
The red warning lights atop the skyscrapers flash in unison. I smile at the memories they have provided me through the years and know each of them by their intimate names: Finance Point, Golden Gateway Hotel, Market Place, Sky Corp, Capital and Enterprise. One of the qualities I most admire about human beings is their willingness to reach for heaven even while stuck here on earth. To me, each of these buildings is a testament to their human potential; an unmarked memorial for me.
The bell tower gongs a second time, reminding me that this isn’t about dwelling on my own thoughts, but I want my memory to be perfect. I take a moment longer to take in the rest of view, the simple things. A Ferrari races by and I catch sight of the personalized license. Yes, BOBSCAR, you are quite flashy, but if you waited around I believe someone like you would be impressed by our car. BOBSCAR speeds right through the red light and away from me, rightly not interested in this moment.
A third gong, and my eyesight clears enough to focus on my tactical surroundings. To my left is the open expanse of the rugby field, a large enough area to give birth to its own fog bank. To my right, an ancient brick wall stands up against the red and white traffic lights rolling up and down the street. A mere six inches of brick will separate me from what might follow out of the fountain. The caretaker’s house stands directly in front of me, now functioning as a small souvenir shop for visitors. Who’d have thought this would all go down at the east visitor entrance of my mortal Alma Mater?
On the fourth herald of midnight I stare directly into the core of the now dissipated miniature power flare that blinded me ten seconds ago. Figuring out Sharee’s destination nexus took about a half an hour, and that the location sat right on top of an active fountain made me laugh for another half an hour. Life had a sense of humor when it designed the gateways to hell.
She lies there inside the fountain amidst a column of fuming steam. I see her head lolled to the left, eyes closed, horns pointing skyward. A shin, a calf, a foot, one forearm and a hand drape limply over the lip of the pool.
I walk out of my shadowed corner, stepping over to the perimeter of the rapidly dissipating steam. She looks just like a normal woman, with horns, but not red skinned or anything stereotypical. Nor does she look capable of the awful feats she is supposedly capable of performing.
“Sharee,” I say.
I touch her hot skin, my clothes dampened from the humidity pushed out of the brimstone heated fountain. I hook my hands underneath her armpits and lift her on top of a blanket spread next to the fountain. I wrap her up like a burrito, maneuvering the insulating cloth around her well-built frame and the few rags that just keep her within city decency laws.
“I see you survived the trip,” I say.
Eyes still closed, she says, “I’m freezing cold.”
“You’ll get used to it soon,” I say.
“Is this really it?” she asks.
“Yep, and you’re even on time for your first appointment,” I say.
“What are you talking about? Who are you?” she rattles off, shivering and shaking inside the blanket burrito. I think I should have brought more blankets. At the twelfth stroke of midnight I think that blankets occupy the bottom rung priority. A flip of my mobile phone, and a punch of a speed dial, places John within earshot with the magic of technology.
“Hey John, punch it,” I say and hang up. Off in the distance I hear the screeching of his tires. A rush of adrenaline aids me when I pick up the Sharee-burrito, and I head over to the gate. I flick the lever down beneath my weight and pull open the door with my left hand. Just enough room to squeeze my own body and my miracle package through the threshold.
I look south down 4th Street and watch what has to be John’s car speeding toward me. To my left the gate slams shut, and the little “surprise” I melded into the gate kicks in with sparkly notification of activation. Through the open bars in the gate I hear the fountain bubble up. I hope John gets nothing but green lights. He’s three blocks away, maybe fifteen seconds, when I hear a slimy suction sound. I can defend myself, but defending a shivering and shaking demon from its own kind is another question all together.
I hear a phlegmy gurgle behind me as John pulls up along the curb in my favorite car, the one I made him buy for just this occasion. The door to the speed-yellow, 1994 Porsche 911 pops open and I dump Sharee into the passenger seat. John squeals away the passenger door shutting under the force of acceleration, off toward Sharee’s first destination.
I want to leave the area, since I’ve done everything I came here for, but I need to stay for just a bit longer. The sound behind the gate grows and drowns the traffic whir and drone of urban life. No other living being is nearby, and that is good.
The nexus holds open long enough, just as I expected, and a scaly tentacle scours the courtyard. A lone gate and wall stands between me and the deadly inquisitive appendage. I smile, waiting for my inevitable fate. A reptilian face pokes up and out from the fountain.
“I hear you and smell you, human,” the demon gurgles.
“I hear and obey you,” I say, sarcastically pretentious.
The arm extends upward out of the depths and slaps against the gate. The demon, obviously not the smartest enforcer they could have sent, vibrates wildly against the ancient meta. The ward I left worked, paralyzing the demon mid-entry into this world.
“You underestimate what I gave up for this mortal life,” I yell back, inappropriately proud of my tricks.
The exposed giant upper body of the demon seizures against the blessings of the gate, and I have just a moment to contemplate my destiny. I could die here now and return my mortal body to the soil, regaining my place within in the heavens. In fact, I should die here now, that’s the way it’s supposed to go, fighting valiantly against my mortal enemy.
But why waste my life here? Humans have become quite efficient with their killing technology. I leave the demon to his fate of frightened law enforcement officers and their 9mm bullets. I’m not done here.
I turn South along 4th street and pull out my cell phone. “Hey Koji, I didn’t end it here,” I say, mid-stride. “Come pick me up along 4th street. I’m not done here yet.” I pick up my pace and head towards my next stop.