Now, his own instincts are shouting it, and it does not sound hokey at all.
AWAKEN HELL!
“If I cannot sway Heaven, I will
awaken Hell!”
- Juno
Each day is a little life: every
waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every
going to rest and sleep a little death …
to prepare us for the big one, the
last one, the final death.
The door behind us opened and two
voices overlapped: Amos’ and Theo’s.
“וואס איז דאס?”
“What the?”
“Yes. We both did.”
Helen twirled around gracefully
as if preparing for a Pirouette, going from angelic armor to Spartan fatigues
in an eyeblink.
Amos croaked, “Wer bist du?”
“Who am I?” Helen laughed airily.
“I am certainly not German, Amos
… nor any earthly nationality for that matter. I am of another species
entirely.”
Theo, no-nonsense as always, said, “You are Rick’s
Helen Mayfair.”
It seemed to amuse Helen to no end.
“No, loyal and true sergeant. I am my own personage. But Richard does hold
my heart within his.”
She flicked definitely unamused eyes to Sister Ameal.
“An allowance on my part considered most unwise in
certain circles.”
“Not unwise,” grumped the
not-nun, “fatal.”
Helen shrugged.
“All sentient
beings make moves considered fatal that matter not at all to those who make
them.”
Amos, ever the peacemaker, walked cautiously to the unhappy nun.
“Ah, Sister Ameal. Rick has spoken so warmly of
you so often.”
My “I did?” and Sister
Ameal’s “He did?” mingled one with the other.
“In your infrequent comas, you
talked aloud about that which most touched your heart.”
He nodded first to Helen, then to
Sister Ameal. He raised a quick palm to me.
“I am a Rabbi, remember? Your
secrets are safe with me.”
Sadly, since I remembered so few
of them myself, they were locked as if in a vault to me as well.
Helen assumed her chief librarian
mode.
“As fascinating as all this has
been, there have been drastic developments that necessitate Richard speaking to
the remainder of the Spartan 300.”
She led me briskly to the door as
if to forestall any more delays. “Let us make your Henry VI speech, shall we?”
“I’ve never been a speech maker,
Helen. You know that.”
“Start now, or I will.”
The others trailed bewildered in
our wake as Helen, on a tear, was a force of Nature to behold even without the
wings.
The remaining Spartans were rumbling and grumbling as was their wont.
I tried to remember my orphan days in New
Orleans when my only worry was how to survive my fellow orphans.
I remembered them only vaguely as
seen through a veil. And even that much I remember with such effort and
vagueness as attends the recovery of a dream.
Sometimes I almost doubt that that
orphan had ever existed.
The Spartans came to my rescue.
“Hey! It’s the Major. He’s all
right.”
Porkins sputtered,
“I bet that gal is his Helen
Mayfair! Hey! How did she get here? She and that nun didn’t come by us.”
Helen laughed.
“Franklin, you would be surprised
at what route I took. But it wound by your Betsy. I hand-delivered your letter
to her myself.”
“How? I just wrote it this
morning!”
With a flutter of leathery wings
and the sun striking fire from her gleaming armor, Helen became a warrior angel
again.
All my Spartans sprang back.
Reese drew his Stinger rifle from
over his shoulder …
which he promptly dropped as sparks
flew from the longer than I remembered fingers of her right hand to his weapon.
“None of that, Trent! Save those
bullets for the true enemy … whose numbers and natures have changed … and
definitely not for the better.
Sister Ameal stepped beside the
angel of my heart. “Which is why the angelus Helen Mayfair and ….”
Taylor dug his elbow in Evans’
ribs.
“You hear that? The Major is
sweet on an angel.”
Sister Ameal sighed,
“Stewart, you catch all the wrong
implications in your listening.”
Eric huffed, “Ain’t that the
truth, Sister.”
It began to snow. Flakes of it fluttered
in my face, stinging my eyes.
Snow in June?
Sparks of fire were sailing down
beside the cold flakes. Both stung my chin. What was going on?
Helen whispered, “It means the
Enemy is at the city’s edge. Only heartbeats before they strike.”
I stepped closer to the stairs’
railing. “I cannot ask you Spartans to face these increased odds and monsters.”
“M-Monsters?” gulped Floyd.
I nodded. “Yes. They go by the
name of the Nephilim.”
Amos gasped, “Gehenna!”
Kent groaned, “Damnation! They are
real?”
“What are they?” Porkins managed
to get out of a rapidly closing throat.
Dickens sighed as if his heart had
been transformed to heavy iron.
“The terrible progeny, the
children, of fallen angels and human women.”
I almost sighed myself, but I fought
it.
“They are at least fourteen feet
tall … and they can fly.”
André's cigarette fell from the corner of his lips.
Evans scoffed, “Oh, a truckload
of ‘Hell No’s’!”
Dimitri laughed, “Fly!? What can
we do against something like that?”
Cpl. Sam Wilson said low,
“We can prevail that’s what we can do. Each
of us met the Major when we was about to die. He saved us. All this past time
is gravy we wasn’t supposed to get in the first place.”
Vincent asked me,
“How many of them are there with
those two hundred Nazi psychos?”
Theo looked disgusted with them.
“Don’t forget the three Tiger Tanks.”
Vincent laughed ugly. “Three Tigers!”
Helen stood defiantly beside me,
flaming sword drawn, trembling in her quivering fist, and spoke dangerously
low,
tears of fire seeping from her eyes
that seemed portals into Hell.
“There are 100 Nephilim, Anthony.”
I felt like Colonel Travis at the
Alamo.
Turning to Sister Ameal, I asked,
“If I fight a delaying action, can you transport the Spartans to safety?”
“No. they would burn in my
essence as you did when leaping from Rommel’s castle window.”
Helen looked horrified at Sister Ameal.
“Oh, do not! He survived, Angelus!”
Sister Ameal turned baleful eyes
first on the Spartans and then, on me.
“But Reinhardt König conceived of
an instrument of teleportation which I have perfected.”
She turned to them. “With it I can
transport these Spartans …
She seemed to spit the last word …
“to safety in their former barracks.”
I nodded and turned to my men. “Any
of you go if you choose. I will not think any less of you.”
“I will!” spat Helen.
“Hey, Babe,” laughed Vincent. “You’re
a damn angel.”
Helen murmured, “You have the ‘damned’
part correct, mortal.”
Amos and Theo stood beside me.
“We’re staying with you, Rick,”
they both said as one.
Porkins cleared his throat. “Tell
us the truth, Major.”
“I always do.”
“O.K. If you could leave right
now without anyone knowing, would you?”
I drew in a deep breath, closed
my eyes, and squeezed the bridge of my nose.
He deserved an honest answer. Would
I? I had no death wish. Helen might think less of me, but she would forgive me.
I slowly took each of them in
with my eyes.
“If I left, this moment would never
leave me. Never. For the rest of my life, I would see it each time I closed my
eyes.”
I felt Helen’s own eyes on me.
“I have seen the helpless raped,
murdered. The ones they loved forced to live with the raw wound of it. There is
an Evil behind all this world’s madness and agony.”
I took off my Spartan helmet and
ironed my face with fingers I no longer felt.
“And this Evil is coming for me. If … if I failed to face this Evil and ran … I would still lose. My actions would hold to naught the suffering and deaths of others who could not fight back. To naught! To nothing!
It would be as if I said all their suffering meant nothing to me … that only my own life mattered.”
I placed my Spartan helmet back firmly on my head.
“I may die this day. But I will not lose!”
I turned to Helen. “But you
escape, and I will ….”
Her face lunged right up to mine.
“Hell … no. Hell, no!”
Helen wheeled to the Spartans. “What
say you? What?!”
As one, they all roared, “Hell,
no! Hell, no!”
Helen twirled her fiery sword,
dipped her long fingers into the liquid flame, and drew white-hot lines along
both cheeks.
Her lithe body soared into the sky,
and she screamed,
“Réveillez l'enfer ! Awaken Hell! Réveillez l'enfer !”
I think there’s a battle coming …
ReplyDeleteA bit one-sided as at the Alamo. Ouch!
Delete