A Boy and His Corpse (23 page)

              “Hey, what’s going on?” Herbert mouthed. He looked from Lucifer to the gravestones and then back to Lucifer.

              “What are you doing?” Rosewater asked.

              “Yeah, what’s going on?” James asked. 

              “Plans have changed,” Lucifer said, walking toward Herbert.

             
Is this what you want, Alan?
Lucifer asked the boy in his mouth.
Do you want me to kill your father on live TV? Because I’ll do it if you don’t go back down there immediately.

              “Stop!” a female’s voice screamed from the crowd. It came from a microphone. The cameras panned to the woman running across the cemetery. Her face was plastered on both screens of the Jumbotron.

              “What’s
she
doing here?” Lucifer asked through gritted teeth.

              On both massive screens was Lorraine Chandler. She rushed to the stage and took a position behind the podium.

“People of America. This young man you see before you isn’t Jesus Christ. It’s the Devil who has possessed my son’s body! The Devil!” 

Agog, he lost focus and stumbled backward a few steps. Mort grabbed him from behind.

How is this possible, I am in control here! Right?

Herbert

              That brief second was all Herbert needed. How his son had reached out and grabbed Mort’s mind, he had no idea, but he didn’t need to know. He commandeered Mort’s mind from his son and made the corpse hold Lucifer’s arms from behind.

              “Come on, son! Push!” he screamed. “Purge yourself!”

              In the distance, the sound of awe and fear swelled up from the audience. Lucifer screamed in both shock and agony, as Herbert shot a beam at his son’s chest. And in that instant, their synergy met. It was like clasping hands with a man dangling from a cliff ledge, hanging on for dear life. The shock Lucifer received from being grabbed by Mort threw him off-guard, and that opportunity was all they needed.

              “No!” Lucifer screamed, but the tug between father and son was too great. Just like a gooey booger, the green energy of Lucifer’s soul writhed out of Alan’s body and began to materialize on the stage. President Rosewater rushed toward Herbert, but James reacted with a karate chop to the back of the man’s neck, knocking him out. Out the corner of his eye, Herbert saw the secret servicemen spring up on the stage.

“James, take care of—”, but James was already on the offensive, as Herbert heard grunts and snapping bones behind him.

The tug of war continued. The tension was similar to reeling in a great fish in an aggressive sea, but in this regard, Herbert was a skilled fisherman and Alan was a gracious tide.

              “Keep pushing, boy!” Herbert screamed. His heart felt ready to burst.

              The strained look on Alan’s face was evidence that he was struggling, too.

              The clouds darkened and a vortex of light shot down upon the stage. A flash lit the sky and the wind howled. The people in the crowd scrambled away in fear.

              “No!” the Devil screamed.

              “Yes!” both son and father shouted in response. They pushed and pulled until Lucifer sat on the stage, no bigger than a baby. His horns no more than tiny nubs on his embarrassingly bald head. He looked up with utter fear in his tiny, black eyes.

              A golden figure shot down from the sky. An angel, with a golden halo, an eagle’s wingspan, and a flaming sword, stood on the stage and grabbed Lucifer by the nape. He gave a slight nod to Herbert and Alan before shooting skyward, the Devil dangling in his tight grip. Both were gone in less than a second.

              Herbert embraced his son. “We did it, kid,” he cried.

Alan hugged him back.

              When Mort and Lorraine joined in the hug, Herbert just shook his head and hugged his son tighter. Mort’s embrace felt strangely comforting.

James

              James rubbed his eyes and stared up at the sky. He had just seen an angel come hurdling down from Heaven only to pull the Devil back up with him. And, yes, Rosewater and about a baker’s dozen secret servicemen lay face down at his feet, but neither was more startling than the sight of Herbert, Alan, and Mort pulling themselves apart from a long, loving embrace. With the way Herbert used to go on and on about his son being worthless, and the way Alan used to call his father scum, James could hardly believe his eyes. He balled up his fists at the mere sight of it. He felt like he was ready to explode.

Why don’t I get a happy ending?

The last memory he had of his own family was the exact same embrace. James still remembered clinging to the back of his crying mother’s shirt as his father held his sister in-between them both.

              “
Why do—do—do I have to go
?” he had asked his mother. The snot from his nose ran into his mouth.

“
Because they need you
,
son
,” his father answered for her. “
Don’t worry. You’ll be back to us soon enough
.”

It wasn’t until years later that he learned his father had enlisted him into the Undead Militia. Mr. Rovas gloated about it whenever he tried to escape.

“Where are you going to go to? Your dad’s the one who put you here in the first place.”

With time, he began to believe him.

Just thinking about it made James spit. His tears made everything blurry.

“James,” Alan said, but James put up his hand.

“Stay away. Please.”

“What’s the matter, boy?” Herbert asked. “We won.”

“
You
won!” James screamed, pointing at him. “You! And you! But not me. I never win.”

“What do you mean?” Herbert asked.

“Just…stay away from me,” James said. He turned from them.

The sky had cleared up and a ray of sunshine rested on his back. He received a huge jolt when he felt arms wrap around him from behind. They were Alan’s.

              “Are you alright, man?” Alan asked. “Is it your family that’s bothering you, buddy?”

              James softened, and the tears he had pushed back now streamed down his face.

              “It’s just not fair, you know?” James said. “I’ll never know where they are now.”

              “We’ll find them,” Herbert said as he walked over to him.

“No need, because
I
found them!” blared a voice from above. Taylor Gint’s face showed itself on both screens of the Jumbotron.

“What are you doing here?” Herbert asked.

“Your ex-wife came to me and told me what happened to Mr. Rovas. Once she showed me the body, I made sure that the Devil wouldn’t get away with it. In the process, I had one of my colleagues do a little sleuthing, James, and…”

              The images on the screen switched over to the stands again, and on both screens was a blond girl who couldn’t have been more than 13 years old. She waved her arms back and forth in the air and shouted something. The camera stayed focused on her, but there was another figure to her left. James rushed to the podium and spoke into the microphone.

“Move the camera to the left, Taylor!”

The cameraman obeyed. Next to her was his mother wearing a skull cap and a puffy jacket, and next to her was his father. He had put on some pounds in the stomach and his hair had grayed significantly, but it was definitely him. James gripped the edge of the podium and tried to steady his shaking knees. He couldn’t hear him from this far away, but the old man clapped his meaty hands before sticking his thumb and index finger in his mouth and whistling. Even from this far, James heard some of its shrillness.

“Mom! Eveyln!” James said into the microphone before running from the podium. He danced between the sprawled out bodies on the stage and raced toward his family.

He sprinted toward the stands past the legion of gravestones. Three figures, just specks in the distance grew bigger and bigger as they neared. His sister and mother came at him with open arms, but he ducked from their hug, and threw a single, cracking punch right into his father’s face. When the big man hit the ground, it was lights out for him. His little sister screamed and James shook out his hand. He turned to his horrified mother and sister and wrapped his arms around them, bringing their heads together.

              “I missed you two
so
much,” he cried.

              Gradually, they returned the gesture.

Lucifer

              Lucifer refused to look God in His/Her/Its face, so he stared at the clouds instead. He felt like puking. How Alan had managed to escape his grasp, even for a second, would baffle him for all eternity. He knew it would. Perhaps, some things were meant to remain a mystery. He certainly wasn’t going to ask God if He/She/It intervened. He just wanted to get whatever was going to happen to him over with.

              “Are you going to say something or what?” Lucifer said, still staring at the clouds beneath his feet.

              He felt the hot point of Michael’s blade pressed against his back. Around him, he felt the other archangel’s staring at him and judging him.

              “You think I care about your stupid flaming sword?” Lucifer turned his head and asked. He received a kick in the back of the legs that brought him to his knees. He saw the clouds beneath him flash red.

“Sorry, my Lord,” Michael said sounding apologetic. “You know how I get sometimes.”

God must have said something to Michael. At one time, Lucifer could understand God, but he couldn’t any longer as only angels could understand God, and he was the farthest thing from an angel. What he really was exactly, he refused to think about.

              The clouds flashed again, this time purple.

              “You’re all still the same, old thugs,” Lucifer told the angels around him. “Every last one of you. Well, at least
I
made something of myself. What did any of you do besides kowtow to God? Huh? Answer me that.”

For a moment, he felt the heat of the blade press against his back again before Michael turned and walked away.

              At this, he felt a bit of satisfaction about the life he had led, even if he was a failure.

             
You may have them on a short leash, but not me, God. Not me!

He looked up at God’s full face and was about to shout those very same words right in His/Her/Its face when he became enraptured all over again upon the sight of it. He couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to.

              Just like before he was tossed out of Heaven, he fell totally and completely in love with God’s face again.

              Lucifer pushed out his chin and inhaled deeply. 

              “I’m ready,” Lucifer said.

              Ready for what, even he didn’t know, but the light of God shone brightly upon his face. It was so bright, he was blinded by it. It was time.

Rosewater

              Rosewater stood at the podium before America and God and drew his lips into a frown.

              “I am sorry that I kept secrets from you, my fellow citizens. I have decided to step down from office. Vice President, Daniel Tulino, will take my place, effective immediately. May God bless him, and God bless America.”

              The audience clapped and former President Roger Rosewater hurried from the podium and the stage. Strangely, he was at peace.

Alan