SOMETIMES THE GOOD GUYS LOSE
Is this the end for the eternal orphan, Major Richard Blaine?
SOMETIMES THE GOOD GUYS LOSE
“We are strong when we haveprepared our minds to die.”
– Napoleon
I wondered if there would beenough of me left to bury.
When a pioneer died on the OregonTrail, as some unfortunate soul was always doing, the family scratched ashallow grave right by the trail, because the wagon train couldn’t wait.
Everyone continued behind theoxen across the empty desert and some families sang “Amazing Grace” that night,and some didn’t.
No shallow grace for me.
Neither ,nor its children, nor Michael would leave any of my Spartans alive to dig onefor me or for one another.
My spine firmed.
No shallow grave for me … or forany of my friends … not today.
Michael was now only seven feet in height. Tall enough to let me know he still felt above me.
If that was important to him,then, he was smaller than he realized.
I looked into his oddlyslanted eyes and grew sad.
They had seen the birth-swirl ofgalaxies, spinning in their slow arabesque across infinity. A waltz of intricatebeauty and majesty.
The ears hidden by that tumble oflong, thick leonine hair had heard the Voice when He spoke all of creation intobeing.
And what had this Being of haughtydemeanor learned?
I spoke softly, “Apparently, nota damn thing.”
“And what have you learned, O Chimpanzee?”rumbled Michael.
I thought for a slow heartbeat.
“That my birth did not cast ashadow on my life, leading to my death. But rather this Cross was here from thevery beginning, and it cast its shadow backwards to the orphanage.”
I extended both artificial handspalm up. “And that ‘Yes’ you spoke upon your arrival came, not from you,but from your Commander-in-Chief.”
I wiggled my stiff fingers. “Thesword, please.”
Again, the rumble, “This cannotbe held by mortal hands.”
I shrugged. “Fortunate then, thatthese are not mortal hands. The sword, please.”
Darael sighed. “Its weight willwrench those hands from your wrists.”
“Only if I thought to hold it bymy own strength alone. The sword, please, Michael.”
I wiggled my fingers, prayingthat my instincts, my faith were sound.
The Voice that trembled the verymarrow of my bones murmured within my mind. ‘You will have to pay to findout, Richard Blaine.’
I whispered, “You already paid,sir.”
I looked to a very pale Michael. “Thesword, please.”
The Archangel slowly, reluctantlydrew his sword, flipped it with a twirl of grace, and, holding the naked bladein his gloved hands, stopped with the gleaming hilt just an inch above my open palms.
“Are you certain?”
I quickly flicked a last look onthe face I had held in my dreams for so long, for so many lonely nights.
I smiled. It was even lovelierthan I remembered all through the pages of my Book of Days.
And sadder.
But that is the price of love.
Love is much like holding acandle in your bare hands. At first it illuminates the world. Then, it startsmelting and brings its pain. Until at the end, it snuffs out forever.
And everything is darker thanever, and all you have left are the painful burns from holding it so close forso long.
But even then, you know love wasworth the pain.
I turned back to Michael. “Yes. Thesword, please.”
The weight of it.
Not the weight of the world.Maybe its sins? It took all I had … but I did not drop it.
I would not. I did not.
Like aboard the Rocinante, allduring those harrowing days at St. Marok’s, and all through those damn chessgames with Mr. Morton … I held on. I held firm.
Michael, the strangest look onhis high-cheek-bones face, murmured,
“What are you going to do now?Slash at Cthulhu’s ankles?”
“Watch,” I gasped, struggling tokeep hold of the sword.
Being alive had a purpose.
There were no accidents.
We had to pay attention. Lookback to see if we had been given a compass instead of just an interesting bauble.
We weren't born just to live alife and then die.
We were born to accomplishsomething specifically, given experiences to help us do just that.
Like I was given the ability toteleport … by Elohim.
It all clicked into place.
Success is not just existing.Success is making it to the end of why you were born.
As I had made it to this moment.
I looked to the head of the trulydisgusting Cthulhu.
“Lobotomy time,” I rasped.
A lance of sheer agony slicedthrough my very being.
But I held on, held firm.
Through tearing eyes, I saw that Istood with a lot of difficulty atop the glistening head of the Elder Being. I wouldnot dignify it by calling it a god.
I slipped. Merde. I would not beable to stay atop this slimy scaled thing for long.
Its face tentacles roped up to seizeme. Close up as they were, I saw the writhing suckers.
No.
My original plan to stab downinto the head and slide down its face was definitely out. What was I thinking,right?
I spun about to take the back route.
Worse idea.
I slipped and fell. I stabbeddown with Michael’s sword to keep from falling.
The blade made an obscene squishing,sucking sound as it pierced right between the Old Ones widened eyes.
It reared its head back as itscreamed a high-pitched wailing that chilled the very essence of my being in someunnatural way.
Hanging onto the sword for dearlife, I slid along the head and then down the back of its skull.
What to do now?
I hadn’t gotten past this point inmy plan.
‘Plan? You call this a plan? We gaveyou all those chess games with Our Adversary as practice, and this was the bestyou could come up with?’
I heard a low muttering within mymind. ‘We should have learned from what Adam did with Our gift of Eve.’
“A little help here,” I gasped.
‘Bother. You will tumble like agymnast when you hit the ground. You are one of König’s Master Race now,remember?’
“With Cthulhu on top of me!”
‘Oh, your mind, along with the mindsof the others, will be destroyed by ’s DeathWail long before then.’
“What?”
Elohim sighed, ‘We suppose youwant Us to help you with that, too.’
“Yeah, kind of.”
‘You won’t like it.’
“Kind of desperate here.”
‘Old story with pleas to Us. Oh,all right. But remember We warned you.’
There was a flash of brilliantlight, a piercing bone-numbing cold, replaced with the heavy humidity of the tropics.
I hit strangely rutted groundwith a lithe roll as Elohim had promised.
And best of all, no crushingweight of Cthulhu atop me.
Helen was suddenly in my arms.
I had to maneuver Michael’s swordto keep from cutting her. Odd. It seemed to weigh hardly anything now.
Helen kissed me so passionatelyit took my breath away.
“Oh, Richard! I thought I lostyou.”
Then, she all the joy out of themoment and kicked my shin. Hard,
“That for scaring me.”
Taylor, keeping with tradition,asked, “Major, do they have pineapples in France?”
“What?”
Evans snorted, “I got a betterquestion, Stewart. Where did all the buildings and bodies go?”
Rachel, giving Helen an odd look,saddled up beside me. “We aren’t in that village anymore, are we, Richard?”
Cloverfield rasped, “We’re stillthere … in a way. The contours of the land are the same. It’s everything elsethat’s changed.”
Kent, to my right, pointed up. “No.No! It can’t be. Can’t be!”
Beside him, Dickens took off hishelmet and ran bloody fingers through his hair.
“Undeniably so, Alfred. That iswithout a doubt a living, flying Pterodactyl, properly called pterosaurs, whichbelong to the taxonomic order Pterosauria.”
Elohim told me I wouldn’t likehow he saved us.
‘Sentient, just how far back intime are we?’
No answer. Long seconds ofsilence. That was odd.
Doc Tennyson sighed, “Major … I havesome bad news for you.”
I turned to see our doctorkneeling beside the unmoving body of Sister Ameal sprawled upon strange looking grass.
“She’s dead, sir.”
I almost dropped Michael’s sword.
“No neck pulse. No breathing.Major, your friend is dead.”
“When the sun sets like fire, Iwill think of you. When the moon casts its pale light, I will remember you.Should a soft rain fall gently, I will stand in it, recalling the last time Isaw tears run down your face.
Good fortune go with you into the darkness atyour journey's end. Let the waters run calmly for you, my oldest friend.”
- Prayer for Sister Ameal
TO BE CONTINUED IN
SAME AS IT NEVER WAS
BOOK II
THE LONG WAY HOME
You might want to listen to this tune as you read Richard Blaine's prayer for Sister Ameal:
