Chapter 6
The Replacement
Dar-Raven frowned cruelly when he heard about Tare and asked Apollyon in an opinionated message from the battlefield, "How many times do we have to warn our own about heir-servants? They've got all the savvy of heaven behind them. They're as strong as many of our own warriors, except they're women and don't use swords, but that doesn't make them any less adversaries. They use God's wisdom, which seems more like scheming and trickery to us; but sometimes, it's just enough, more than enough many times. We rely on our strength and savagery too much some times. I imagine Tare will be a little more careful when he returns."
Another dark angel groveled at Apollyon's feet with one side of his face flat on the stone floor. His other eye looked up at Apollyon when he asked, "Do you think it will take Tare a month?" He saw Apollyon nod "yes," then the angel commented, "That long, huh?" Followed by, "Master, what are your orders?" He was hoping not to be rebuked for the question. Apollyon turned without saying another word and tried to see if he could see Dar-Raven.
Dar-Raven stood on a high hill watching the ongoing battle. He missed seeing Aaron plow through his ranks, even mauling some of his own. He admired Aaron's savagery. He had been in Sudan for so long that he thought he'd never leave. He was hoping that Apollyon would send him an easier assignment, even if it were only for a couple days. Even the continuous victories of battle bored him. He'd love to follow Irish and Grace if he was asked. It would be like a vacation, but he was too important, and like Aaron, almost his equal but for the dark side.
Apollyon turned to the dark angel still crawling along behind him, "Send Little-Ahaz. Tell him to stay out of direct conflict and blend as much as possible. Ask him to stir up humans to do his dirty work as always."
Immediately, Little-Ahaz (L.A.) was sitting quietly in the train station as he let his feet swing back and forth under the long waiting bench. He could see everyone coming and going. He looked about eleven without facial expressions: a very blank poker face. He was solidly in control of himself and everything around him. He was over two thousand years old. His dark, brown hair was freshly cut above the ears. He was a handsome kid and wore blue jeans with a brown t-shirt exhibiting a large snake on the front. He chuckled at his assignment. He heard about Tare and swore that nothing like that would happen to him. He was too good at blending into the woodwork while looking exactly like an innocent little kid, except able to cause tons of trouble to everyone around him.
A homeless man shuffled towards the coke and candy bar machines checking for change. He nodded politely at everyone and cordially moved out of everyone's way as needed. L.A. made a hundred-dollar bill appear several feet from him; and as the man moved that direction, several other homeless men turned to stare at him. The others saw the money at the same time. It was as if the train station had broken into all-out war. They each knew the others saw it, but the lone shuffler hadn't. They grabbed each other and fell on the floor in a fighting brawl trying to move towards the money. With each shuffle, the first man got closer to it without knowing, then he did. A breeze came through the station, and the money floated to the back of the coke machine. The first man straightened up and stopped shuffling. He moved briskly with the others not far behind. As he reached down to pick up the money, he squeezed himself behind the coke machine. The other two collided with him and shoved him down against the wall plug. The only support from falling to the concrete was the plug. He put his hand on it and tried pushing up. The plug separated from the wall, and his hand slipped between the plug with his fingers resting on the metal prongs. He jerked in exaggerated movements with the others; their eyes bulged, and their bodies shook in the pain. Their eyeballs rolled back into their heads with sparks arching over their dead, burnt bodies. L.A. smiled and took out his ball cap and pulled it over his eyes, not bothering to look at them anymore—he'd done enough.
In another part of the train terminal, management was double-checking their schedules as they heard the surprising whistle of the Aaron train. "What in the heck is going on?" asked a dispatcher.
"I don't know. We don't having anything scheduled on that line at this time. Who in the heck is it?" another newly arrived conductor asked while watching the blazing lights of the approaching train.
All the way back, Jim didn't say a word. He was praising God and thanking Him for his second chance. He just wanted to get home and was bubbling over with excitement. The moment the train stopped, he jumped to the exit.
Turning towards Irish, he ran back and hugged her, then stopped, "Are all the angels as beautiful as you?"
Aaron stood up behind him and reached around to grab Irish by the arm. He pulled her towards him and put an arm around her waist with his other hand resting on the back of her neck as he blew at her soft neck hairs.
"Trust me, Jim, there are none as beautiful as my Irish here," then he kissed the back of her neck tenderly.
"Hey guys, there you go again. Have you forgotten little Grace?" She stood glaring at them with her hands on her hips. "I can't wait till I get older so I can understand half about the way you and Irish behave."
Jim was caught off guard by this loving bantering. He thought that humans weren’t all that different than angels after all.
"I've got to go. If I don't see you all before I… Well, I'll just see you in heaven. I want you meet my wife, Irish. She loves picking on me like Aaron does you. You'll get along great. Thanks Grace. Introduce yourself again to me in heaven. I'm sure you'll be all grown up by then. Love you all." He turned excitedly and walked out into the train station.
As Jim walked through the doors of the station, he smelled the burnt bodies and saw the paramedics trying to get bodies on stretchers. He looked around for a moment and headed for the street. He saw L.A. sitting at the end of the train bench by himself.
L.A. stared at him so fiercely that Jim's arm hairs stood up, and he couldn't move for a moment. He started praising God under his breath and worshipping the Lord while he walked past him. It was L.A.'s turn to get goose bumps this time.
As Jim walked by him, he swore that he heard the little boy growl and hiss at him. "Train station weirdo's," he thought. Suddenly, he realized he didn't have any money for a cab. He snapped his fingers in disgust; and as he turned back to check with his angel friends, he spotted a hundred plastered to the bottom of a nearby candy bar machine.
"How about that! Praise the Lord!" he said loudly.
He snatched it up and heard a bitter string of cursing from the little boy pounding the bench with his fists. L.A. couldn't believe he was part of a blessing. That was his hundred.
As a train crew, managers, and dispatchers raced out to the tracks to see about Aaron's train, Irish and Grace got off and walked quietly into the station. They heard Aaron enthusiastically tooting his whistle. By the time the station crew got to the tracks, they saw the train pull away and disappear before their eyes.
"Whoa, I don't like this," one said.
"How are we going to report this?" another asked.
The station manager said quietly, "We're not. I'm not ready to be committed quite yet."
L.A. saw Irish and Grace walking through the doors. They saw him at the same time. Irish knew exactly who he was. Irish shouted at him as he briskly moved away from them, "Little-Ahaz, keep your distance, or we might have a surprise for you like Tare."
He stopped and turned towards them saying, "I doubt it. You know I never do my own dirty work," then disappeared.
The station crew was behind Irish and got a clear glimpse of L.A. disappearing in front of them. They turned in a military about-face, and all five of them walked directly out of the station into the employee parking lot and raced home.
"Enough is enough," they thought together.