Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (18 page)

Griffin wanted to live a life of choice, of adventure. Well, shit. He was talking himself into this preposterous act. Looking up, Griffin saw on Gabriel’s face what could only be described as an angel version of a shit eating grin.

“I’m not happy about this, Mr. Gabriel. You’ve ruined my life by just being here.” Griffin wasn't really unhappy. He was already letting go of his life and embracing the danger, the adventure. Besides, he wanted to see the woman again.

“Uh huh,” Gabriel said, still grinning.

“Is this going to hurt?” Griffin was grasping at straws and he knew it.

“No, the opposite. You'll feel great, empowered, healthy.” Gabriel sounded like a new car salesman and his whole life was going to turn around in sixty easy payments.

Gabriel stood, which startled Griffin. Gabriel had sat in his chair this entire conversation. Standing, Gabriel reminded Griffin of the translucent quality of the Archangel. Light passed through the Archangel when Gabriel stood between Griffin and his front windows, making him almost invisible.

“Let’s begin,” was all Gabriel said.

Griffin stood with a degree of willingness. It was all Gabriel needed to successfully enter his consciousness. The Archangel took the single step between them and to Griffin and was gone. Gabriel decanted directly into Griffin's form. He became aware of their conversation moving from external to internal. It was like having ear buds deep inside his ear, almost touching his brain. The voice was just there. Volume, pitch, tone, were no concern. Griffin heard soothing tones from Gabriel reassuring him to not be afraid. Asking him to embrace Gabriel’s thoughts. Griffin cut out the verbal messages and concentrated purely on the sensation. He was infused with energy that sent his skin and brain into sensory overload. It was like mixing electricity with post-exercise endorphins, mixed with nitrous oxide from the dentist. Like warm sunshine on a cool day. The sensation of Gabriel blew away the cold, the darkness, and the fear. Gone. Every ache Griffin had from the night before faded away. He heard several joints pop throughout his body. His spine cracked in several places as his bad posture went away. Griffin extended to his full height. His nose bleed was no longer a concern. He felt great.

The sensation began to wane. Or was he becoming used to it that quickly? Griffin couldn't tell. Gabriel was becoming a part of him and fast. And then, Griffin had memories of things he never experienced. His memory went back millennia, eons, back into a darkness...

“Easy Griffin,” Gabriel whispered. And the memories were gone.

The whisper continued. “Griffin, you will find there are structures of my cognizance you may access: my memories, awareness, knowledge, and content, are yours to explore; however, to just dive into each or all will render you mad. Because of your ability to repel me, I give you a marginal chance of living after our work is done. But if you rip through all that I am, you will not survive.”

Griffin wanted to respond with an avalanche of questions but didn't know how or where to begin.

“Just think as you would speak,” Gabriel suggested.

“Can you hear me?” Griffin offered.

“Yes, very good Griffin.” Gabriel was mentally petting Griffin and he didn't like it.

“Just the facts, Mr. Gabriel.” Griffin thought to Gabriel.

“Understood.” Griffin felt like he was learning to ride a bicycle all over again. He could feel Gabriel holding back, trying not to overwhelm him. Was Gabriel keeping the communication as simple as possible until he became used to the practice?

Griffin was standing in his living room like a statue. It would have been comical to anyone watching.

“Shit, there are many questions I have now that I should have asked before,” Griffin thought.

“Go on…” Gabriel replied as patient as third-grade teacher.

“But let's get down to business first. No, wait!” Colliding questions fogged Griffin’s mind.

“Yes,” Gabriel interrupted, “you can control your own body. If I find it necessary because we're in danger, I will take over. I can take over, but it would be far easier if you went along and we didn't fight over your synaptic circuitry. Yes, you can think dirty thoughts. I've assisted humans for millennia, so there isn't anything I have not already seen. I appreciate the female form, too, and I'm not a donkey.”

Griffin took advantage of the next pause to absorb what he just learned. “No, none of the stupid stuff you think will be held against you in the court of Heaven.” Gabriel chuckled. Griffin appreciated the jovial sensation, even though it was at his expense.

“Hey, don't make fun of me, Mr. Gabriel. It's not every day an Archangel climbs in my head,” Griffin said.

“Griffin, every vessel has the same questions, and we have plenty of time to become a working unit, but for now we need to get out of this house and be seen as normal as possible,” Gabriel thought.

“What do you suggest?” asked Griffin.

“Mercy Griffin” Gabriel thought.

Griffin frowned and made the first tentative step across his living room towards his bedroom.

“Well, let's get us showered, clothed, and out and about.” It was Griffin’s turn for suggestions.

“Good. Try not to think of me here, with you, all the time. It will be easier for you to function on a more personal level if you put me aside and aren't constantly toying with my presence.”

“Gotcha, Captain GabrielAngelVoicePants,” Griffin mocked.

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Griffin shot back as he stripped and headed for the shower.

A Call from Work

Itishree was busy digging up as much information as possible on Keystone Energy through her cousin's laptop. She wanted to be prepared for her tomorrow’s interview. Itishree dug into Keystone’s policies, current projects, and went as far as to learn which charities Keystone supported. It was important she knew enough to answer any question she may face and to ask intriguing questions of her own.

A phone rang in the apartment. Itishree glanced over at hers. It was an inanimate hunk. It was Aruni’s cell phone. Part of her wanted it to be her phone that rang because she’d never had a working cell phone before yesterday. They were just too expensive in India. Her cousin had been watching TV until her call. Itishree spied a glance at Aruni as she walked into the kitchen. It must be her pseudo boyfriend, Itishree deduced.

After Itishree woke her and Aruni shared hours of conversation. The two had been close in Pune’ and Itishree was glad to have her cousin near again. Itishree imagined Aruni was thinking she was having a private conversation but in reality Itishree was fighting not to hear the struggles the two were having. Aruni had already briefed her on the difficulties Indian women have in relationships in America. Trying to balance the wishes of a free woman with the confined culture of old-world India many of the men brought with them, was sandpaper on any Indian-to-Indian relationship. Aruni wanted to have fun and to love as she pleased. Itishree wanted neither. She wanted to work and build a career, to make something of herself beyond the traditional Indian female role. She wanted more.

A ringing noise near Itishree shocked her back to the present. She could hear Aruni talking in the kitchen and knew she shouldn’t hear Aruni’s phone ring.

Itishree laughed. It was her new cell phone. No one had called her on it yet. She answered without knowing the number. The newness was a little intoxicating.

“Eye Tigh Shree?” came an unsure female voice.

“It Ish Ree Ale Dar,” Itishree enunciated, trying not to allow her own accent to fog the vowels. Itishree learned that Americans were easily overwhelmed by the habit of Indians speaking too fast and pouncing bird-like, on vowels and syllables.

“Oh, thank you, Itishree Aledar,” the woman said, carefully enunciating in return. "This is Brenda Ancosky, Keystone Energy.”

Itishree shot up, toppling everything on the coffee table. “Yes, hello, Ms. Ancosky, how are you today?” Itishree felt that greeting wasn't quite right.

“I am fine, thank you. Listen, we've had a military air accident over the city, and Keystone has sent everyone home,” Ms. Ancosky said.

To Itishree, it was a hammer blow.

“Oh, okay,” Itishree said, not knowing what else to say or where this was going. She realized she could not hear her cousin in the kitchen. Turning, Itishree saw her cousin quietly walking from the kitchen, a hopeful smile on her face. Itishree saw her cousin was more interested in her call. Apparently the half assed boyfriend could wait.

“I’m sorry, but I have to postpone our interview until I know more. It shouldn’t be but another day or two. Are you set for accommodations? You have a place to stay for a few days?”

“Yes, I have a cousin in town, and I'm here with her,” Itishree said as her smile returned.

“Excellent, Itishree. I’ll call you back when I know more,” Brenda said.

The call ended and Itishree saw Aruni coming unhinged from curiosity.

“Was that your interview?”” Aruni asked with excitement.

“Yes, it has been postponed due to a military accident?” Itishree said, but it came out as a question. She looked to her cousin for more information.

“Oh, for how long?” Aruni asked.

“Until she notifies me,” Itishree said.

A feeling a dread came over Itishree. She had counted on this interview and two backup interviews to secure her a job. Without the job and a sponsor, her ability to stay in America was in jeopardy. Her dream began to crash down around her.

“Itishree, wipe that look off your face. This means you have a couple of days before you interview. You have more time to sharpen your interview skills.” Aruni paused and a smile like gamma radiation broke out on her face. “And, we have time to shop!” It was like Aruni had won a prize.

“I feel a sick day coming on!” Aruni continued to radiate.

“No, I can't get sick from you this close to my interview!” Itishree said, horrified.

“It’s an expression, silly. My work knows I took today off. I'll extend it by taking a sick day. Oh crap! My work is downtown too.” Aruni began dialing her work.

Analysis

Within the closed room he and his techs had set up as an operations room, Joe took the liberty to remove his shoes. Sitting at the long briefing table, Joe flexed his toes while the technicians gave their oral reports. Joe had separated the techs into areas of interest he thought most important: Criminal history, Financial Responsibility, Communication Quality, Work Status, and Family Status.

Criminal history would be the most obvious attribute. Once a criminal always a criminal. Joe and most professionals in law enforcement and DHS felt this way, and there was no need to apologize. Financial responsibility was a trending attribute that was a good indicator if a person was desperate enough to commit a crime in order to achieve some nobel goal, i.e. paying off a large debt. Communication quality was a misnomer. What it really meant was were you on the internet sowing the seeds of discontent. Making noise over the oppressive government, flaming the wrong topics in a blog or someone else's wall. Work status was an indicator if one was employed, under employed, falsely employed, or unemployed. Employment status was an indicator that help explain a persona when coupled with one or more other attributes. Family status was key and could be a trigger indicator. Did a parent just die, spawning undesired behavior? Was there suspicion around a recent death in one's family? Loners? Jealous siblings?

Putting these data points together, in such a small geographic area, would quickly lead to a person of interest. What Joe was attempting to assemble was difficult - there having been no crime. However, this exercise always demonstrated results or at least interesting data. Joe arrived at the operations room in the evening. The techs had at least seven hours to research. And one hour of setup allowance, Joe judged. There should be some results by now.

Joe had made the mistake of letting the two techs who were given criminal history free rein over presenting their report. The two fumbled over each other until one must have decided the other wasn't worth a pinch of monkey shit and just began rambling.

Joe held up a hand, and the bright young doofus stopped talking.

“If you were not aware, every community in these United States of America is chockablock full of criminals. It isn't difficult to stand on any Main Street and throw a rock and not hit a convicted shoplifter, drug user, child pornographer, or some degree of assault. We are a nation of criminals, gentlemen, and lady. What I am interested in is if these residence cross reference a crime with another attribute I requested.” Joe looked back at the two young men. “Just give me the totals of each crime you found, and keep that list handy once we begin to narrow our interest.” The better presenter of the two looked over at Mr. PinchOfMonkeyShit and handed him the tablet computer. Surprisingly, Mr. MonkeyShit was happy to oblige.

Next, Bryce, a kid Joe actually liked, presented his findings on financial responsibility. Taking cues from the dork twins before him, Bryce was clear, upfront, and precise. And to no one's surprise, a healthy minority of folks were neck-deep in debt and not making any headway. A small percentage had their heads out of their financial asses. While Bryce was finishing, Joe leaned across the table with his hands out for the criminal and financial data hard copies. The Turd Twins and Bryce slid their papers across to Joe. Bryce finished his oral report and all waited for Joe to continue. Joe was looking for two specific names he had become suspicious of while walking the streets of Spring Hill: Albert Schreiber and Griffin DeLuca. Albert had a minor controlled substance infraction, and a DUI six years in the past. The heavy penalty of the DUI seemed to have righted Mr. Schreiber, although Albert had generated a healthy amount of debt because of it and had made no headway against the small mountain since. The system doing it's job of keeping losers down. Joe found Griffin DeLuca's name on the financial report as being one of those few who had their house in order. Mr. DeLuca didn't appear on the criminal report. Interesting. Joe made a mental note.