Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (22 page)

Thomas Palocsik had been called on to surveil a single male suspect and file a report, each night, into Homeland’s database. It was the big break he had been waiting for his whole life. The years of college, incurred mountain of educational debt, referrals, strings his father had pulled at the precinct had paid off. He had called his father and told him he was getting his first assignment and the two had met up in Sharp Edge for a celebratory beer. He was on his way. His dad had clapped him on his back and told him how much he loved him. He also told a few strangers, at the bar, how proud he was of his boy. Tom remembered blushing over and over.

He had followed the suspect for several miles after a hushed bulletin had been put out for the suspect’s car. A series of passes in patrol cars had found the suspect and given DHS enough information for Tom to intercept the sedan. He had lost the suspect once but after a bout of panicked acceleration had nearly passed the suspect on I376 before falling back inline four cars behind and to the left. It had been simple to lazily tail the suspect from there. Tom thought this job wasn’t so difficult. And he imagined how long before he would be investigating crimes for DHS. Tom smiled at the thought of going after terrorist threats to God and country. His dad would be proud, indeed.

He watched the suspect, one Griffin DeLuca, enter a plaza parking lot. Tom backed around a far brick building and waited. He thought it odd that the suspect didn’t get out of the car right away and Tom made a note of this on his scratch pad. DHS hadn’t issued him a tablet yet and he would have to make due with old fashioned paper and pen. Several minutes passed and Mr. DeLuca got out of his car and walked diagonally across the center lot. Tom pulled his car, lights out, around the building and into the street on the eastern edge of the lot. To his immediate right was a similar brick wall. He imagined a small plaza of shops that faced the adjacent street. There was no traffic on these side streets so Tom decided to loiter in the street and pulled his car against the curb on his right.

The suspect disappeared as he turned right around the corner of the long brick building. Odd, Tom thought. Mr. DeLuca must have taken a picture with a smart phone because Tom swore he saw a camera flash reflect off the restaurant directly ahead of him. And then, the suspect stepped into his sight again and entered the restaurant. Tom looked down again at his pad and wrote, ‘Entered restaurant…’ and checked his watch. Writing down the time, Tom waited.

Griffin slid into the chair opposite Itishree. His chair's wooden legs scraped quietly against the ancient wooden floor. Griffin saw his motion caught Itishree's attention. She gazed above the menu like a child peers over a fence. His smile didn't catch her off guard. She smiled back. But, narrowed her eyes cocking her head slightly to her left. Then she dropped the menu.

She was more magnificent than ever. Her long black hair was pulled back and piled on top with a barrel claw clip. She wore a light green dress. The dress was adorned with fine embroidery of leaves and vines. Her skin was the color of honey at dusk. Her smile was electric, warm, and inviting. Griffin could feel the hair on his arms and head stand on end.

“How did you know I was here?” Itishree asked with expanding warmth.

“Our mutual friend,” Griffin replied. His own smile faded a little. Those three words had brought the mood back to somber. “Gabriel.”

“The Gabriel, Archangel Gabriel?” Itishree asked. Itishree let go of the menu and discarded it on the table.

Griffin said nothing. For a moment his words were gone, crushed by her loveliness. He swam in her eyes. He imagined his fingers running through her hair and around the back of her head. His eyes darted down to her lips and back up to her eyes. Her neck was sleek. Her skin flawless.

Itishree smiled. Griffin blushed for a moment. He knew she’d caught him drinking her in.

He looked down at the table and back up at Itishree, refocusing his mind.

“Itishree.” He cleared his throat. “May I call you Itishree?”

“It’s all you know of me, Griffin, so yes.” She smiled and nodded.

“Itishree,” He said again. The waitress appeared out of nowhere and stood next to their table. Griffin stopped and looked slightly up at the young woman.

A brilliant flash of light filled the alley. An enormous thunder crack followed. Tom’s ears rang. The bolt rocked Tom’s unmarked patrol car. Now, Tom sensing the presence of another in the seat next to him, turned to see a glowing pale blue shape. The figure placed a hand upon Tom's right shoulder and looked at him with wide sad eyes. Tom saw compassion in those eyes, and eternity. He lost control of his muscles. Tom could not stop the alien form. He could not breathe. Darkness collapsed his vision. His body slumped to his left. There was another light. Above, ahead, Tom couldn't tell. Then it was around him, surrounding him.

From just outside a boom sounded. Griffin imagined it was from a freak lightning strike. Glass jingled in the restaurant. The other patrons made sounds of alarm. The waitress looked around for a moment. Her mother came out of the kitchen and checked the dining room. After being satisfied no harm had come to the guests she went back into the kitchen. The waitress turned as if nothing had happened.

“Sir, may I bring you something to drink?” the waitress asked. She was also Indian and appeared too young to hold a job at all. Obviously the establishment was family owned. This pleased Griffin.

“Iced tea, please,” Griffin said, looking at the young lady and expecting her to dissolve as fast as she had appeared.

The girl spun away from them and headed for the kitchen.

“Itishree, this has been an extraordinary week for me. I’m damned if I know even how to begin to explain what has happened.” Griffin looked at Itishree. He filtered and re-filtered his thoughts trying to put voice to his mind. Itishree saved him.

“Start at the beginning, Griffin,” she said. “We have the evening.” That brought out a broad smile from Griffin.

Griffin spent the next twenty minutes explaining what had happened over the last six days, with as much detail as he could recall. He left out sharing his mind with Gabriel though. He didn't feel this was knowledge he could give up for now. What Gabriel could do with or without Griffin could frighten Itishree, and he didn’t want that. When Gabriel was with him, he could feel the need to make this work. It was an obsession. It was what Archangels do, and it was becoming as much a part of Griffin as Gabriel.

Their food arrived and they spent the next five minutes in silence eating. Griffin paused and looked at Itishree. She put down her fork, and pushed her plate aside.

“I was in an airport terminal in Philadelphia,” Itishree said. Philadelphia came out as Filly-del-fee-ah, carefully accentuating each syllable. Griffin cracked another smile. He was glad to stop talking and listen. Her accent was mesmerizing. She smiled back in a sneer sort of way. Itishree recalled her waking dreams, as she called them. Griffin knitted the shared experiences together for her. When she paused, it was clear they had shared the last two encounters.

Griffin leaned back in the chair and thought. He had instantaneous anxiety of a bank robber about to slip on a dark mask and recheck his weapon. There was an ominous dark presence to where they were in time. He was afraid. Griffin knew he couldn't escape his immediate destiny. He knew Itishree felt exactly the same.

“When we saw Gabriel in IKEA…it was threw you” Itishree paused, unable to finish the question. The question seemed too mundane. "When we shared that hallucination, waking dream, out-of-body experience, whatever that was.” She looked at Griffin intently. Her eyes were huge. “Gabriel said to me, you said to me, at least I understood it as Gabriel. The voice was different somehow. He said to me, ‘You are mankind's last salvation and God's messenger.’ What does this mean? Who am I to the Archangel Gabriel? Who am I to you?"

And there it was. Direct and to the point. Griffin could think of no way around it. No way to change the subject. No way to avoid this conversation. The air was heavy now. Time slowed. Griffin remembered something his mother had said to him since he was a little boy, “Griffin, it's never as bad as it seems.” The only positive conclusion Griffin could conjure was better to tell her through his mind and not Gabriel's. He stole a shallow breath.

"You are Muhammad. You are Jesus. You are Moses,” Griffin said.

Itishree began to shudder. A little at first, but it only took moments to overcome her. She looked down at her lap and began to cry silently. Griffin imagined this is how strong women cry. Quietly. To themselves. Alone. But Itishree wasn't alone. She wasn't going to be alone.

“God has determined mankind is ready for the last instruction,” Griffin said quietly. He looked left and right to ensure no one else was near. Watching her cry was like ripping off his fingernails. “You will deliver this message to all of us.” He tried to soften the blows as best he could. He was failing. Itishree sobbed. Griffin wanted to run away. His feet began to dance under the table. He was embarrassed, angry, and morose. Griffin got up from his chair and settled into one adjacent to Itishree.

He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Itishree, this is all I know. I know this is important. I know this is real. What I've seen, and what I've experienced these last few days has been terrifying and venerable. I know so much. I've seen behind the veil of religious dogma. I've witnessed the majesty of interaction on a scale of which I was never aware.”

She looked up at him for a moment. The sobbing had stopped. Griffin pulled more napkins out of the table dispenser. Looking across the table he saw an older woman and the younger waitress standing together. Both gave Griffin the same un-approving, scornful frown. He handed Itishree the napkins.

“I’m afraid, Itishree. If you don't carry this message, I'm afraid of what Gabriel will do. I'm afraid for us all.” He was close enough to Itishree to smell her hair. “Gabriel is very powerful, on a cosmic scale.” He added. “He is the Archangel Gabriel.”

Griffin stopped there. He didn't know what else to say. He was never good at breaking up with girls. He was a mess at his parents’ funerals. He didn't have the experience to deliver such news.

Dabbing and blowing, Itishree composed herself as best she could. She folded napkin after napkin in her lap. Itishree’s eyes darted between her lap and Griffin. Her look froze on him and she blinked a few times. “I’ve only just arrived in this country. Two days I have been in Pittsburgh.” Griffin noted her accent with sweetness. “This day I have looked to for many years. My father, my mother, my family have been through so much to get me here. I promised my father…” She trailed off, concentrating on the pain of her father's memory.

“What did you promise your father?” Griffin asked in a whisper.

She looked up at him again. They were so close Griffin could smell her salty tears.

“I promised my father I would become something special. That I would slough off the societal pressure of my ancestors and be more than I imagined.” She dared a small smile after that. Griffin didn't know if the smile came from memories of her father or realizing she was fulfilling her promise.

“I’ll be there with you every day.” Griffin kissed her softly, twice. Then he withdrew. Itishree stole another kiss from Griffin making sure what just happened was real. She tasted her lips not wanting the moment to end.

“How long will this take?” Itishree asked.

“How long will what take?”

“Delivering the word of…” She stopped realizing the gravity of her role. Her lips crumpled inward and another tear formed. “My life as I planned it is over?” It came out as a question.

Griffin could only answer with what he knew. And everything he knew was grave.

“Itishree, if we don't take up these roles, the world as we know it will end. I've seen it. When Gabriel came to me, we spoke for a long time. Mankind cannot continue like it is today. We are enslaved by debt. A few are close to owning and running the entire planet. Corporations are causing wars. Water has become a commodity. There is no privacy. We have turned inward when we must look outside of our environment. We cannot stay on this planet.” Griffin knew he was rambling.

“How will this work?” Itishree asked.

The young waitress came and removed their plates.

“We don't have to get into that now,” Griffin replied. He had said too much for Itishree to comprehend, he feared.

They exchanged cell numbers. Griffin got up to leave and asked if he could walk Itishree to her car.

“I’ll call a taxi. My cousin dropped me off here on her way downtown,” Itishree said, looking up at Griffin.

“I’ll take you home.” Griffin extended his hand.

She took it and stood.

Griffin paid the bill directly at the waitress station and included a modest gratuity. She smiled and thanked him with a toothy grin.

Itishree and Griffin were halfway across the parking lot headed toward his parked car when Griffin stopped. Itishree stopped next to him with an inquisitive look.

“Don’t freak out,” Griffin said. He could feel Gabriel’s presence nearby, waiting to rejoin his host.

Thousands of small blue stars begin to form all around them. Quickly the stars began to collapse towards her and Griffin. She grabbed his arm with both hands and drew near Griffin.

“Gabriel?” she asked.