Chadpocalypse - 2:2 Blinded by the Light

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2:2 Blinded by the Light

Chad was guided into a chair by an overly zealous man in a white suit who didn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘The Hangover to End All Hangovers’. He grumbled and groaned the whole way, feeling a wash of chills whenever a bead of sweat rolled down his drenched, naked body. What the hell happened to me? Placing his last memory was getting more difficult by the second, with the only clear aspect being blinding white light followed by darkness.

     Someone pressed a cup of coffee in his hand.

     “Oh no you don’t!” shouted the man in the suit.

     Chad’s temples exploded in pain, and he clapped a hand to his head.

     “Relax, that one’s on the house,” replied a much calmer, quieter voice. “Besides, he’s going to owe me later for punching a fucking hole in my ceiling.”

     “That language is unnecessary.”

     Chad shut his eyes, trying to block out the knives every beam of light was driving into them.

     “Drink that,” said the calmer voice. “It’ll help.”

     Chad reached forward with clammy hands and clasped the paper cup that had been set before him. It was warm and sent tendrils of comfort through his aching muscles. He lifted the drink to his lips and sipped at it experimentally. It wasn’t the best cup of coffee he had ever tasted, but it was also better than the slag he was used to drinking at B’s. As the warm liquid worked its way down his throat, Chad felt the ball of tension at the back of his mind unravel.

     The other man wrapped him in an old burlap bag that smelled of coffee beans. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst way to wake up from what he assumed had been a night of heavy drinking. No, that wasn’t right. It hadn’t been drinking, it had been drugs. LSD specifically, from some sort of technicolor pope in a church far larger than it had any right to be.

     Chad opened his eyes and saw both men sitting across the table from him, staring. “Uh, thanks, gents.” He gave a small salute and took another gulp from the coffee cup.

     “What did you mean about Hell having more to do with it?” asked the man in the white suit, looking clearly apprehensive.

     Hell, the thought resonated in Chad’s head. It had something to do with the church and the LSD, he was sure of that.

     “Isn’t it obvious?” asked the man in the floral print shirt.

     “If it was, I wouldn’t be asking.”

     “Clearly this is what all the rumblings have been abou—”

     Chad cut in. “Shut up a minute and let me think.” He put a finger to his temple to emphasize the point. Putting his memories together was like trying to repair a broken mirror with a glue stick. Jumbles of sound and light flew behind his eyes, forming half cohesive scenes before shattering again into nothingness.

     “No need to be rude, son,” said the man in the white suit, taking a quieter tone.

     “Sorry,” managed Chad through gritted teeth. “Something happened and everything’s a little fuzzy.

     “Something looks to be a bit of an understatement.”

     Heaven, Hell, LSD, he thought trying to connect the pieces. He looked across the table to the two men and the thought: Angel, demon, came unbidden. He wasn’t sure why he thought it, but it made perfect sense. “Angel,” he said pointing at the man in the white suit. “Demon.” He pointed to the other.

     “Oh shit,” replied the Demon. “Well, he’s been touched by one of the big wigs, next step is figuring out which one.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small flask, took a drink and poured some into Chad’s coffee. “If you’ve been above or below, that’s going to help more than coffee.”

     Chad lifted the cup and smelled the strong aroma of booze now carried with the steam. At least that was familiar. He took a drink, swishing the liquid around his mouth before swallowing it. When he exhaled, his breath felt like hot fire. “Well, that’s good stuff.” He coughed and spluttered like it was the first time all over again.

     “Give that a minute to sink in, then tell us what you can remember.”

     “You know, compared to the last agent of Hell I met, you’re a lot nicer.”

     The demon smiled, his teeth sharpening to points as he did so. “Those of us on Earth tend to be a bit more personable than the hulking brutes from below.” His eyes glowed bright and then extinguished.

     “Don’t let him fool you,” said the angel

     Chad ignored him. “I remember charging at Pestilence.” The LSD trip that had sparked it didn’t seem necessary to mention.

     “The Pestilence?” asked the demon, growing excited.

“Yes, The Pestilence, and then there was this blinding, white light.”

     “Sounds like The Lord,” concluded the angel.

     “But then everything went dark.”

     “I think we all know who that sounds like,” interjected the demon.

     Chad tried to remember what came next, but the door to the coffee shop was thrown open so hard that it nearly broke off its hinges.  

     The demon jumped up from his seat. “We’re closed!” he yelled. “Come and sell your soul some other day.”

     Chad squinted at the rectangle of light that was the open door, shielding his eyes. Two silhouettes stepped through it and into the coffee shop.

     “Well I’ll be damned,” said a younger voice. “You were right, father.”

     “Oh Hell, it’s a priest,” the demon grumbled. “Don’t go bringing your holy-water-flinging ass in here, we’re closed. Did you not here me?”

     “Chad?” asked one of the silhouettes.

     As Chad’s eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out the figures of James and Joe as they moved further into the coffee shop.

     “Do you know these gentlemen?” asked the angel whose voice had begun to quake with heavenly irritancy.

     Chad stood up, once again ignoring him. “Joe?” he asked. “How did you find me?”

     Joe laughed and pointed upward.

     Chad looked up for the first time at the hole in the ceiling where he had landed. It certainly wasn’t big enough for him to fall through, but there were burnt black edges in a ring around it, like he had been cast down by holy lightning.

“Most of Midway didn’t notice, but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you.” Joe was beaming. “After all that, you were doing The Lord’s work after all.”

“Oh come off it,” spat the demon. “We haven’t determined that yet.” He snorted. “One naked man flies down on a lightning bolt and suddenly it’s divine prophecy. The shop will be swarming with fanatics by morning.” While annoyed at the prospect, he did hope he’d get a few extra souls for it. That would help pad what had been a slow quarter. At least he was turning an earthly profit on the repeats.

“What the Hell happened?” asked Chad. “Back at the parking lot I mean. One minute I was there, and the next…” He pointed to the ceiling.

James and Joe exchanged a nervous glance and somehow, Chad picked up on it.

“What’s that look about?”

“That was eight months ago.” Joe’s eyes were pained.

“Eight months,” Chad repeated. “How did that happen?” He did feel like he had taken an extended nap after a bender, but not eight months extended.

James stepped forward. “You were out of your gourd on LSD is what happened.” There was a little humor in his voice. “Joe and I were sitting, talking about a battle plan when that horseman came out of nowhere and blew up his car.”

Joe flinched at the memory. “Bastard.”

“Father,” chided the angel, “language.”

Joe made a sign of the cross on his chest and the angel smiled approvingly.

James rolled his eyes, pleasing both Chad and the demon. “That scared the shit out of both of us and we were about to turn tail when you picked up a push broom and rushed the damned thing head on.”

“A push broom?” asked Chad. “Not a holy sword glowing with radiant energy?” saying it aloud felt ridiculous and he regretted sharing the memory.

James laughed. “Not even a divine push broom. Joe threw some holy water at the thing and the horseman laughed it off.”

That Chad remembered.

“I’ll be honest, it looked like you were toast, but you were just so damned confident. You charged him with that push broom and stabbed him right in the chest. There was this sort of brilliant, white flame and then the both of you were gone.”

“Rest in peace,” said the Demon, quietly.

“Good riddance,” replied the angel.

“I’m sorry, who are these people again?” asked James.

“Long story, but I think agents of Heaven and Hell respectively.” He glanced at the two men. “You can probably guess which is which.”

“Alright then.” James scratched his head. “I guess that makes sense.”

“So, Pestilence is really dead then?” Chad turned to the demon for confirmation.

His eyes fell to the floor. “Holy fire, right kid?” he asked James.

“Sure looked like it.”

“Yeah, he’s gone then.”

“Well, that’s good news isn’t it?” asked Chad.

Joe smiled. “It’s not bad news.”

“It is if you’re a fucking demon,” replied the demon.

“Sorry,” replied Chad, “but he was trying to bring about the apocalypse and all that.” For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in the right. “Otherwise, I don’t really have anything against demons.”

Joe gave him an admonishing look.

There was a long pause as tension filled the coffee shop.

“Well, one down three to go, I suppose,” said James, breaking the silence.

“You know what? Get out of my shop,” spat the demon. “I’ve listened to enough of this holy drivel for a day, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve finished your paperwork, Jordan.” He glared at the angel.  

The angel took a step back. “Don’t make me report you.”

“Report me? You’re talking about murdering my brethren in my shop. I don’t have to do anything, the police will sort it out for me.” He stomped off to look at the hole in the ceiling. “This house was an antique!”

“Best we leave him be,” whispered the angel.

“Leave the free coffee,” huffed the demon, picking up wood splinters from the floor. “Come back when you’ve got a soul to sell me.”