The Two Devils (8 page)

There was this tall fellow in a black hooded robe. He was holding a sickle. It was obviously the Grim Reaper himself. I must say, that's about the last thing one expects to see.

And all I could think about was how glad I was I'd gotten dressed in my dungarees instead of moseying around in a nightshirt.

He pointed at me. “Are you Miles O'Malley?"

My throat went as dry as a pile of Death Valley borax. “Yes, sir,” I meekly answered. I then realized he was holding my book.

"The French version is better. French, it's not an easy language to translate. I think page fifty-three is impossible, in any language."

"I haven't gotten that far,” I replied. “I only read the first chapter."

He set the book back on Charlotte's lap. “I've come for you, Miles O'Malley."

"Wait. I can't be dead. I'm too young."

He pulled back the hood and sat next to Charlotte at the end of the sofa. He looked like anyone, though he had very pale features. “Nobody ever wants to see me. It's always, ‘oh no,’ or ‘I can't be dead.’ Even the ones in agony don't want to see me. Fellow was stuck in a mine cave in, legs broken, just yesterday. Was he glad to see me? The only one who could relieve his suffering? Was he glad to see me? I'll say he wasn't."

This Death guy stood up. He sure was tall. “Well, let's be off, Miles."

"How'd you know it was my book?” I asked.

"Your name's in it, inside cover,” he answered.

"How did I die?” I asked.

He swatted me on the side of the head. “You're not dead. Did I say you were dead? Come on. God wants to see you."

"God?"

"Yeah. Let's not keep Him waiting,” Death said.

I shrugged. “Let's not."

He grabbed me by the hand. Nick was not the only supernatural entity with cold, clammy hands. “You'll like this."

I, a simpleton-turned-miner-turned-barber, had been quite puzzled with Nick's interest in me. Then, along came some demons and a trip to hell—the real hell; not to mention meeting four different angels, two of which I got to know intimately. Now, the harbinger of death shows up in my house and tells me God wants to see me. This may seem odd, but I wasn't all that surprised by it. Things were getting mighty strange in my life. But, somehow, it just did not seem that strange at the time.

I don't know how or why, but we were flying with little sensation of movement. We entered a swirling tunnel of light. We whizzed along for a bit and finally emerged in what looked like a field of clouds. As we got closer, I realized we were approaching a massive, sparkling city. Death deposited me in front of an enormous golden gate. Then, I was alone.

Then I wasn't. An older fellow dressed in white robes was looking me over.

"What have we here? You strike me as being more the type of person we send off to hell,” he advised me. “Not heaven material at all.” He shook his head.

I sighed. I hadn't allowed the demons to intimidate me. I sure wasn't going to allow this guy to. “My good fellow, whomever you are, I have an appointment to see God. Please tell Him I have arrived."

He shook his head. “I think that is most unlikely. We haven't had anyone so ordinary as you since—” he thumbed through a book that seemed to be hovering in front of him somehow, “Uh, are you Miles O'Malley?"

"I am."

"Oh, well, welcome to heaven.” He clapped loudly and the gates opened. “Well, go on in."

"How do I get...” A golden chariot pulled by two magnificent horses came to a halt in front of me.

"Hop in,” the robed fellow advised. “They'll take you where you need to go."

I did as instructed. The horses took off down a grand boulevard. Just like in hell, there were folks around. They gave me a few glances, but weren't overly interested in me. Everyone I saw wore white robes, though some of the styles did vary. The city was clean and sparkling. And, no, the streets weren't paved with gold. I don't know what they were paved with, but it wasn't gold. They were gray. I guess the marble buildings offered enough glare.

We passed a few immaculate gardens and stopped in front of an immense palace. Since we'd stopped, and the horses didn't talk, I decided that was my stop and sauntered up the steps and inside the first entrance to the building that I could find.

"Where do you think you're going?” a high-pitched voice greeted me.

Something big and wearing a blue robe came running towards me. I later learned it was a cherub. Picture a seven-foot tall baby and that's a close approximation to their appearance, but they're not babies.

"Where do you think you're going?” it repeated. I'm still not sure about gender with cherubs.

"I'm here to see God,” I explained.

"But is God here to see you?” it asked.

I shrugged. “They said He wants to see me, but what do I know?"

I turned and started to leave.

"Are you Miles O'Malley?” it suddenly asked.

"Yep, that's me."

"Well, why didn't you say so?” It pointed down a long marble lined corridor. “Go right down there, until you reach the large double doors."

"Uh, okay.” I sauntered down the very long hall, perhaps one hundred yards, until I arrived at the doors. They opened without need of knocking or pushing on them. Inside was a large meeting hall. At the far end sat seven cherubs on a bench. Another set of double doors was next to them.

As I entered, the cherub closest to the doors stood and manually opened the other doors.

"Mr. Miles O'Malley,” it announced.

I found Buffy sitting behind an enormous mahogany desk. Her office was quite large, with a large window providing an incredible view of heaven.

Another door, a simple standard wooden one, was at the far corner of the room. She smiled. She looked gorgeous in her white robe, which was exquisitely tailored. Her blonde hair seemed curlier than I remembered.

"Miles, nice to see you again.” She stood and came around to the front of the desk and gave me a hug. “Hope you had a nice trip up."

"I'll say."

"Well, God wants to see you.” She went over and opened the little door, then led me inside a room filled with various plants. It sort of looked like a greenhouse, but with regular floors and windows. “It's customary to kneel. Just answer His questions and you'll do fine.” She gently touched my left shoulder and left me alone.

After a minute or so, God appeared before me. If you haven't seen God, it's impossible for me to describe Him in any fashion that makes much sense or adequately answers one's questions. He's not the old bearded guy some religions portray him as.

He's there. He's more than a light, a lot more—He's an overwhelming presence. Yet, He really didn't take physical form, either. There He was, God, right there in the room with me.

"Miles, it is good to see you,” God said.

"The pleasure's all mine, Sir,” I replied.

"Few mortals are brought here. It tends to completely destroy their lives. Most go crazy,” He explained. “You have visited hell itself and shown no obvious effects from the encounter. I find that most impressive."

"Well, folks say my horse is smarter than I am,” I replied.

He laughed. It was a real loud, deep roar. “Though Paul is a magnificent horse, I think you may be selling yourself a little short."

"Uh ... thanks, Sir."

"First off, the matter of your titanium bullets. You said you destroyed them,” God said. “Is that true?"

"No sir. Six are in my back pocket. The rest are in my bureau drawer at home,” I explained.

"Why did you lie about them?"

"I didn't want them falling into the wrong hands, especially that bunch in hell, not if they really can kill an angel,” I explained. “Frankly, I don't know what to do with them."

"Can you keep a secret?” God asked. “Something the angels don't even know?"

"I'll try, Sir,” I promised.

"Titanium is just a really hard metal. It won't kill an angel. It's just a myth—a myth I allow—to give the angels something to worry about. They tend to get a bit complacent and smug."

"Really? Wow.” I was amazed at how inarticulate I'd become. “Does Nick know this?"

"Certainly,” God said.

"He sent me after Ralph with useless bullets?"

"He is not one I would be too trusting of, Miles,” God explained.

"However, Ralph certainly believed the threat to be real."

"He sure did."

"May I have them?” God asked.

I held them out on my palm. In a whisk of light, they vanished.

"When you return, give the remainder of the bullets to Death."

"Yes, God."

The next question was one I would've rather avoided. “Do you like Nick?"

Lying to God seemed rather pointless. “Yes, God. I don't know why, but I do kind of like him."

"Is that why you help him out?"

"No. I can't rightly say why I've been helping him. I guess I'll help pert near anybody. I sure didn't want any part of that angel stuff, or that helmet. Can't say I wanted any part of anything. But, he keeps talking me into things."

"Do you know why?” God asked.

"Why he wants me to help him?"

"Yes."

"No, can't say as I do."

"You are something he does not have in abundance. Thank you for coming, Miles."

"Do you not want me to help him in the future? I'm not sure I understand.” And that was an understatement.

"You need to continue to make your own decisions in life, Miles,” God replied. Then, He was gone.

The door opened and Buffy entered. I stood up, though I felt a little wobbly. “What'd He mean? What doesn't Nick have in abundance?"

Buffy smiled. “Miles, you are an honest man. Nick mostly has swindlers, thieves, murderers, and lots and lots of lawyers to call on."

I hadn't thought of that.

She took me by the arm and walked me out into the great big hall. “I'd love to show you around, but I think you've had enough excitement for one day.” I was speechless.

Somehow, I found the chariot right where I'd left it. The horses took me back to the front gate. The guy in the robe was still there.

"How do I get home?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “As if I didn't have enough to do. We're very busy. Just wait here. I'll have Death take you back.” He let out a laugh. “Boy, we don't do that too often, Death taking someone back.” He laughed again and I didn't find it all that funny.

Death soon arrived on the scene. He grabbed me and we were off.

"Have a nice visit with God?"

"I guess so. It's a little different, talking to God right there in the same room."

"That's the way God is. Yes God, no God, it's pretty much the same with us,” Death told me.

I'd been wondering about something. I decided to find out a few things in my last few moments of otherworldliness. “How come nobody has wings?"

"Because painters in the middle ages were so inept they couldn't picture anyone flying without big clumsy wings on their backs. It's just mankind's folly. We never had ‘em, Miles. Don't need ‘em. If we want to go, we just go,” Death explained.

"Well, why me? How come I get tours of heaven? You have any idea how many religious types would give everything, just for a glimpse of what I've just seen?"

"I don't know, Miles. I don't make these decisions. God said to fetch you. That's all I know,” Death replied.

We were now suddenly floating above Mrs. Bunyan's back yard. “Actually, Buffy said to fetch you. But she's his secretary; same thing."

"Why does God need a secretary?” I asked.

"He really doesn't like dealing with angels and cherubs much. He prefers having someone like Buffy to do it.” We landed softly on the lawn.

"See, that wasn't so bad. You've got some bullets somewhere?"

"I'll go get them.” I hurried off into the house and grabbed the rest of the mystery bullets, then returned. Death was holding my gun. “These have really gotten popular as a way to kill people. They're way more accurate than the old muzzle-loaders. And they shoot so much faster.” He held out his hand. When I gave him the bullets, to my surprise, he loaded the revolver. “You got this from Nick?"

"Yes."

"He buys good stuff.” Death aimed it at the next door neighbor's outhouse and fired. A shingle flew off the roof. “These bullets are too hard, but it still shoots pretty good."

The door flew open and the old gent who lived there came running out, trying to hold up his bib overalls. “Who's shooting?"

Suddenly, Death was only a few feet away from him. “I am the Angel of Death!” My neighbor ran off through his neighbor's back yard. Death was, just as suddenly, standing next to me again. “God hates it when I reveal myself to people. Let's get a drink.” He walked up to the back porch just as Mrs. Bunyan opened the door.

"Miles, are you shooting out here?” Then she noticed Death.

Death again proclaimed, “I am the Angel of Death."

She clutched her chest and fell to the floor. Death stepped over her and went over to the sherry decanter and lifted its heavy glass lid. He took an impressive belt right out of the bottle. “Don't worry about her. She's only fainted. She'll wake up and think it was a dream or something.” He replaced the decanter. “'Stop drinking people's liquor,’ God's always telling me. Miles, I've got the worst job an angel can get. No one else would have it."

He sat next to the still sleeping Charlotte. “I hear you bagged Janus
and
Mabel."

"How'd you know that?"

"One hears things, Miles.” He sort of gazed off at the wall. “Mabel ... I always did like redheads.” He helped himself to a little more sherry. “'Course, I'll bet Janus is a real pistol. Does she always want to be on top?"

I didn't like this conversation, so I asked, “What happened to Ralph?"

"Don't know, really. Buffy dropped him off at God's palace. Never saw him again. Buffy shows up with him at the front gate. She had me tie him up until we could get him in to see God.” Death handed me back my revolver. “Damn nice gun. I'll see you, Miles.” And, he was gone.

I polished off what was left of Charlotte's sherry supply. I placed the empty decanter on the floor, next to Charlotte, then went to bed. I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts of heaven and meeting God whirled through my head. Then, there was the fact that some of the titanium bullets were still in the drawer. In my haste, I hadn't gotten them all and God had ordered me to surrender them to Death.