This garnered a quick glance from the preacher, before he turned and stared back across the water. Still, his deep mediation must have been broken because Jack sighed.
“So little time,” he whispered.
Michael checked his watch, and Jack's hand came down gently onto his wrist. “No,” he said. “That's not what I mean. Besides, since when do angels need watches?” His smile revealed gaps in his mouth where long ago there had been teeth. “I still remember the vision from last night,” he said.
Michael put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and turned him away from the railing. “Let’s talk as we head back to the place.” Jack never could remember the shelter’s name, so both of them had settled on calling it what it was. The place.
At the edge of the park, Jack focused on a spot further down the road. Michael followed his gaze, and wondered if Jack could sense their approach. Jack sighed again, continued to walk. Michael fell into step beside him, guiding him in the right direction whenever they strayed off course. Once they’d crossed Atlantic Avenue and were moving a good clip away from the lights and thinning crowds of the marketplace, Jack began to speak. Michael had assumed he would, in his own time.
“The vision,” Jack said quietly, “was very frightening. And confusing. You showed me the flood. I think that's what you did. So many people screaming, the waters covering them over. So much power. You gave me a bowl of water. Millions of people, screaming for mercy. And there was no mercy. None at all. It all ended as was foretold.”
Jack sounded a lot more lucid than usual. It was how he usually was during the dreams. Michael felt a renewed sense of love for this man, knowing how hard he was struggling to keep it together.
“And that was confusing?”
Jack looked at him; his face twisted into a smile as they passed under a yellow street light. “No. Not that part.” They passed Amelio's Package Store. They were almost home. He repeated, “Not that part. What was confusing was that I wasn't the only one running. So many others beside me, holding their own bowls, running and running.”
Michael said nothing. Weeks ago, when the priest had tried to mention the others, Jack had gotten weirder than usual and wandered away babbling.
“I'm not the only one who's received the visions, am I?”
Michael stopped walking. He could see the lights of the shelter a half block away. He looked at Jack's shadowed face. He simply nodded his head and said, “No, you're not.”
“Where are they?”
“Everywhere.”
Jack looked down, and smiled. “Praise God,” he said. “Sometimes, when I'm like this, usually at night when the world's not poking my head with its sticky fingers, I wonder how the world could be rallying so easily to my cause. Others, you say? Still,” he looked up, shoved his hands into his pockets, “I'll probably forget by morning. You’ll just be a stranger again. I hope you don’t take my forgetfulness the wrong way. It’s nice now to be able to talk, you and I, like normal human beings.” He laughed at the irony, then patted Michael on the shoulder. “But, I suppose, this was your idea, letting me talk to you like this.”
Michael smiled, knowing it wasn’t he who gave Jack these moments, but simply a random rightness in how the man’s injured brain worked. “Maybe you'll stay like this for a while?”
Jack shook his head. “With a clear mind come clear memories. And there are too many of those to want to stay like this for very long, even if I had a choice.”
A knot tightened in the angel’s stomach. In moments like these, he wished for his assignment to end. Too many human frailties in this form. Still, it seemed as if Jack wanted to talk about them. Already knowing the answer, he asked, “You miss her?”
“I miss everyone.”
“They were good people, God fearing, loving. They’re in a better place.”
Jack nodded. His face tightened. Through clenched teeth he said, “I hate them. The men who did it. I can’t forgive them.”
Michael kept a hand on Jack’s shoulder, squeezed a little. “You don’t have to.”
Jack shook his head. “But I do have to, don’t I? Even the mindless, lost souls who blow up hotels while families are inside, celebrating weddings and dancing....” He closed his eyes, let Michael continue guiding him down the alley. “Why did I live? I suppose one benefit of this cracked brain of mine... keeps me from remembering too long. Hurts to, but I do, sometimes. Once. Or twice. Round and round we go.”
“What -” Michael began, before headlights cut across the alley behind them. He turned and raised one hand to block the light. The car stopped a few feet away. Voices over the sound of the idling engine. Slurred laughter, angry noises.
“Hey, Preacher Man,” a voice said through one of the open windows. An arm emerged, brandishing something that looked like a baseball bat. “We're here for church. You left early!” Guffaws from inside. The sound of someone pulling the door handle. Michael gently nudged Jack to walk with him towards the door of the shelter. Jack held his ground, and began speaking.
“Holy, holy,” he said, quietly, with no quaver in his voice. “The Lord doth say the unbelievers and frightened children shall scorn the prophet and try to silence his tongue.”
More sounds of door handles being pulled, snapping back. Curses from inside.
Jack continued, louder, “Rather than prey on the weak, raise your arms to the Lord! Repent; cleanse your hearts of evil - “
“Unlock the fucking door, man!”
“I'm trying. It's not working.”
“See the pure white light of God's love!” Shouting now. “Feel His embrace!”
“There! Got it!” Thunk, thunk of more pulled door handles. “What the...? He’s gonna get away!”
Michael began to push Jack towards the shelter. “We have to go, Jack; okay?”
Jack resisted. He raised his voice over the shouts from inside the car. “Prepare ye the way of the Lord! See His glory, for His power will be mighty when the waters come.”
“Climb out the friggin' window!”
A head emerged from the driver’s side, behind the glare of the headlights. Then a whirring and a shout.
“Who's closing the window? Cut it out! I ca-” The voice cut off to a choking gasp, then a gurgling. The head wriggled, caught between the glass and the top of the door.
The angel pushed the smiling preacher backwards. “Can we go in now?”
“My angel will protect us,” Jack said.
“No shit,” Michael said, unable to suppress a smile, “really?”
Jack relented, and walked calmly alongside him. Far down the opposite end of the alley, the small red glow of a cigarette. Michael ignored it. Behind them, glass broke. The jackals had finally realized they could put those bats to good use. As he and Jack got to the door, there were footsteps and shouts of anguish from down the alley. He turned to see three large shapes pacing nervously beside the car. More glass breaking as they freed their friend from the window, then more curses. The four shapes ran away in the opposite direction, one moving more awkwardly than the others, abandoning the car where it sat idling.
* * *
Nothingness. Comfort. The sensation of warm air blowing across his legs and chest. Deep underwater, without fear. Rising slowly, all worries gone. Everything was all right now. He was home.
Carl opened his eyes. Like every morning, it took a moment for him to remember where he was. He never dreamed, not once that he remembered in all his life. When he slept, it was in a state of complete non-functioning. All systems shut down. He often wondered if this complete oblivion was why he slept only a few hours each night. He awoke refreshed, a soft blanket of peace across him. Slowly, his brain began to turn on various switches as he lay on his back staring at the night sky. First, the realization of where he was. On the foredeck of the ark. Then the stars took on meaning. They'd shifted, rearranged themselves into a new patterns since he’d gone to sleep. He'd begun to consider the constellations his own private clock, noting what patterns swung about at what time. At the corner of his vision, a dull pink glowed on the horizon. He guessed it was four or four-thirty.