“I was just about to point that out,” Janea said.
“God is on my side,” Randell sang sarcastically. “Still doesn’t explain the demons.”
“But free will does,” Barb said. “Demons, or these Old Ones that I will admit have some non-demonic aspects, need the intercession of humans. God gives us that choice. We can choose to be good, we can choose to be evil or we can do what most of us do, which is muddle along in the middle. But the reason that God does not strike these things down from on high is that He expects His followers to take care of things. Which is exactly why we are here. Humans brought these things into being, and humans, with the help of God-as the evil humans had the help of demonic agencies-are to set things to rights. God helps those that help themselves, if you will. Or would you rather a God who held your hand while you sucked your thumb in a corner?”
“Point,” Randell said.
“The actual point is, Special Agent, that even if you reject God, God does not reject you. If you love and do not hate, if you live by His basic precepts, the Golden Rule, if you will, then you are good. His forgiveness, even for rejecting Him, is infinite.”
“So you’re saying that if I live a good life I’m doomed to play a harp for all eternity?” Randell said. “No, thank you.”
“The harp motif is so fourteenth century,” Janea said. “Back then most people worked hard from sun to sun and died young. Sitting around all the time and not having to work for their food was the only thing they could imagine as paradise. Valhalla isn’t playing a harp. We Asatru are called to battle. I mean, like I told Barb, I tried out Astari, which is all nonviolent and whole-grain goodness, and got really bored. Which is why I’m Asatru. Give us a harp and we’ll try to eat it. Give us a battle and stand back. The afterlife is what you are called to. I know a person who’s pretty certain it’s the chance to meet and talk with people like Da Vinci. Although I think the line of geeks is going to be sort of long.”
“So all I’ve got to do is live a blameless life and I’m in?” Attie asked. “No church, no singing?”
“In my opinion?” Barb said. “Yes. Love and do not hate. Treat other people with love and respect unless they have clearly given themselves to evil. And even then, understand and forgive them if you can. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them live, mind you.”
“Hmm,” Attie said. “So what if you’ve sinned?”
“Sin is such a big word,” Barb said. “And it’s a really narrow concept. I’m not saying that it’s all shades of gray; it’s not. But there’s a really easy way to define sin. Do you have any sort of conscience? I know some very good warriors who don’t. They have to just fake it.”
“I know the kind of guys you’re talking about,” Attie said. “But, yeah, I’ve got a conscience.”
“Anything you’ve ever done you really wish you hadn’t?” Barb asked.
“Couple,” Attie admitted.
“Can you forgive yourself?” Barb asked.
“That’s a tough one,” the master sergeant admitted.
“God can,” Barb said. “But it helps if you can. People seek forgiveness for that sort of thing in a lot of ways. The doctrine of Confession is the traditional Catholic method. I…know someone who has a lot of forgiveness to seek. He’s seeking it through…good works. I, frankly, wish he was with us now.”
“I thought you said good works,” Randell said.
“By certain definitions of good,” Barb said, chuckling slightly. “Killing demons? Good. Counts for a bunch of rosaries, or so I’m told.”
“Oh.”
“Others seek it through self-examination,” Barb continued. “Mostly, though, people seek it through the normal sort of absolutions. Owning up to it to the people that they’ve hurt. Seeking to redress the damage. Doing things that counteract the evil they have done. My friend’s approach is…idiosyncratic. But sincere. And, again, unquestionably in there with God. He had some actual demons to throw off of his soul. But once he did, he’s pretty much in as much of a state of grace as anyone I’ve met. And what he does is kill demons. And their worshippers.”
“That gets back around to where I have issues,” Randell said.
“I wasn’t planning on getting Jesus in a cave,” Attie said. “But you’re a very good missionary, Mrs. Everette. And you can shoot. That’s a benefit.”
“Think about what you just said,” Barb said. “‘Getting Jesus.’ Getting has several connotations in English. It means ‘receiving,’ which is the meaning I think you meant. But it also means ‘understanding.’ Which is equally the case. This is how to ‘get’ Jesus.
“All that Jesus really asked is that we love our fellow man and care about him. Why on earth are you in this cave if not for that, Master Sergeant Attie? Adventure? You’re far too experienced a warrior. You’re here to save lives. Jesus dragged a cross up a long hill while stones and food and spit were hurled at Him, was nailed to that cross, suffered, and died a most painful and horrible death to prove to His Father that we poor humans were worthy of being forgiven for whatever Adam and Eve did to tick God off. He died so that we might live in eternity, period. If you die in this cave, open-eyed and willing to die to save others, do you really think that Jesus is going to reject you? He’s a guy who got nailed to a cross to save our souls. Yeah, He has enough forgiveness for you, Master Sergeant. And He is going to appreciate someone who’s willing to die to save others. Been there, done that.”
“You know,” Attie said, thoughtfully. “If you’d been my preacher when I was growing up I might have stayed with the church. Baptist, too, by the way.”
“I know a few very good Baptist ministers,” Barb said. “I also know more who are total pricks, pardon my French.”
“You’re making me think about converting,” Janea said with a laugh. “But I love sex too much.”
“Mary Magdalene was a prostitute,” Barb said. “There’s no other way to interpret Matthew. So was her sister, Martha. Which made Lazarus, who Jesus raised from the dead, their pimp. God may be a little down on it, but Jesus has no issues.”
“Speaking of whom,” Janea said. “Where is Laz?”
“Probably finding a drier route,” Barb said with a chuckle. “He took one look at this passage and clear as day said ‘Blow that!’”
“Well, we’ve got an open area up ahead,” Attie said. “Finally.”
“Might want to let me go through first,” Barb said. “The last time I let somebody else take point it didn’t turn out well.”
“I think it’s okay,” Attie said. “Unless your Old Ones have green cat eyes. He apparently found a drier route. Little bastard.”
“Language, Master Sergeant.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Well now, this is interesting,” Barb said as she emerged from the mudhole.
The immediate area around the opening to the mudhole was more or less triangular and about thirty feet high. The room continued onwards into the cave through a very odd passage.
The passage was high but narrow with a smooth, flat floor. It opened outwards, broadly at the top and again, slightly, near the floor. And it clearly twisted like a snake. The walls were irregular with spines of limestone sticking out. As she shone her light on the wall she could pick out the outlines of fossilized sea creatures from ancient aeons.