Act Two:
Luke – 10 Days to Plague Day
The ground was hard and cold. He shifted, rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Between the trees he could see the stars and they terrified him. He closed his eyes again and waited. He opened them and the stars were still there. Muttering under his breath he rose to his feet and looked around.
The forest was open, thin naked trunks denuded of branches until far above his head where a scrappy sort of fern sprouted and reached toward the sky. In every direction he saw only more trees and bracken and ferns and not one damn house or coffee shop. He was human, he was finally here, and he was in the middle of a bloody forest. This was just like the father, typical of his warped sense of humour.
Luke spat and set off, stomping over the thick bed of pine needles and broken branches. It took an hour for him to arrive at a road and another half hour to reach a pub. He had money in his pocket. The bastard had given him that much at least and the pub was open, so he bought a pint and settled himself by the fire.
The flames did a little to burn away the horrible cold inside. He’d never been cold, not properly. Now it was all he could feel. That and anger. He stared down into the beer, wondering how he had spent so long wanting to taste it. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, but it was far from the glorious experience he’d expected.
That was a fairly good way to describe the entire human experience to date. The pub was what he thought would be called a ‘local’s place’, which meant it was too far off the beaten track for anyone else to ever come in. The locals were three fat men at the bar bitching about something on the TV.
Luke watched it for a minute and was shocked to see something on there about the tube explosion. The father had sent him here only the next day. He’d expected to be at least some time in the future. He thought back to the rest of the speech.
‘Luke will become human. And gifted with such an amazing ability, he will be able to make the changes necessary to save the world from any such fate that may befall it.’
On reflection, that was a load of woolly twaddle that meant next to nothing. He’d thought it meant going into the future to stop Alex’s son, Jason, but it could mean anything. Maybe he was supposed to spend the next thirty years drinking beer and getting laid. The thought put a smile on his face and the sudden silence in the pub brought him back to himself.
The three men at the bar were staring at him. It was in looking back at their round, red faces that he realised what had changed. In three hundred years of being back in the Flights, he had found within himself the compassion and empathy that he had been created with. The fires of hell had burned it all away, but the Father had helped him rediscover it. Somehow, in becoming mortal, that same compassion and caring had vanished. He was as he had been, back when he ruled the underworld.
‘Can I help you?’
The nearest one, named Beardy for his lack of facial hair in contrast to his thoroughly-hirsute companions, grunted and leaned forward, gesticulating with his pint glass.
‘We were just wondering what you found so funny about them bloody arab terrorists.’
Luke sat back in the chair and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, there’s a few things there. First, the explosion wasn’t cause by a terrorist attack, arab or otherwise. It was caused by the tube carrying a container on board that really shouldn’t have been on a tube train. Secondly, I think you’ll find the word arab relates to people from Saudi Arabia and if you chose to investigate further, you’d find that every country in the world has supplied us with terrorists.’
He took a deep breath followed by a sip of beer. ‘However, with regards to what I found funny, it was simply the presence of three fat unkempt fools such as yourselves trying to debate something as complex as world politics.’
Beardy’s brow creased as he tried to decipher what had just been said to him. One of his friends was clearly a bit sharper as he leaped from his stool and came toward Luke, fists clenched.
‘Think you’re clever, don’t you? Think because we ain’t up in the city we got no brains.’
‘Well, your lack of grammar and inability to use full sentences does seem to support my hypothesis. But to be honest, I am clever.’
He smiled his brightest smile, set his pint down above the fire and stood. The man stopped before him, flattened lips visible through his beard.
‘Don’t think coming in our bar and calling us stupid is very clever.’
He raised a hand and took another step forward. Luke closed the gap and muttered under his breath.
The man stopped, eyes widening. Then he screamed. It was a sound that brought back so many wonderful memories it took Luke a minute to realise he was supposed to be doing something.
The man cowered, hands help up against some invisible foe. As always, it would be his worst fear, so in all likelihood he was facing dancing razor blades, or maybe a hot shower. Either way, he was entirely unprepared for Luke’s fist crashing into his face.
Luke winced. His strength was somewhat diminished by his recent switch to the mortal realm. Still. The man’s knees buckled along with his nose and he dropped senseless to the floor, streaming blood. The other two men were still on their stalls, joined in their staring by the barkeeper.
Luke folded his arms and tapped his foot. Beardy summoned up the courage and climbed off his stall. He picked it up and swung it experimentally before him. Luke muttered again and the huge man dropped the stool. He followed this masterstroke of fighting prowess by bursting into tears. They were followed by him linking his arms together as though he held a baby and rocking gently back and forth.
Everyone in the bar, Luke included, was transfixed. He raised his vibration a little and saw, around Beardy’s head, a number of tiny faces, all shouting and screaming at him. The baby cradled in his arms was him and he was the father he’d never had. It was beautifully sad and more than a little pathetic.
Luke retrieved the barstool and swung it full strength into Beardy’s tear-stained face. It shattered into more parts than he’d have thought possible. Okay, his strength wasn’t that weakened. Beardy spun most of the way round until he collided against the bar. He fell sideways into his friend and took them both to the floor.
Luke took a sip of his pint and smiled. The father had sent him here to save the human race, and he would, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun.
The last man shoved his friend’s body off him and staggered to his feet. He backed away, hands held out. ‘Hey man, that’s enough, we didn’t mean nothing by it.’
‘You didn’t mean anything at all. You didn’t say anything. I, on the other hand, meant plenty by it. Tell me… Richard, what’s your greatest fear?’
Richard shook his head and ran for the door. He was most of the way there when swarms of wasps attacked him and dragged him to the floor. This one’s mind was strong, his imagination full, and tiny red dots appeared all over him. Venom that existed only in his mind surged through his blood stream, enough to drive him face down and tear a blood-curdling howl from deep within.
Luke chuckled and sat back down in his seat, reaching for his drink.
Next Installment Monday 11th August
