The Devils Harvest: The End of All Flesh. (8 page)

I never did find out the answers to those questions.

“I could now come and go. Before only being able to leave if being sent on an errand. But I passed between one realm and another like there had been a revolving door setup just for me. It was like child’s play. So easy. He couldn’t stop me. Not yet. Because I had raised questions, answers needed to be given. If He destroyed me there and then all the others would have asked themselves,
‘maybe he was right.’
Only time could settle things. So I made good use of my time.

“He tolerated this. How could He not? We had free will. Its just I was the only one at that time gaining benefits from it.” He gave a long yawn that showed all his small teeth, with far too many missing gaps and metal fillings. He regained his composure before continuing.

“Over time with my travelling back and forth I witnessed a lot. Of course I could – like them all – see everything from up there if I wished. But I preferred to be walking among mankind. Sometimes in different bodies. Mingling, causing problems. Nothing as serious as my first rebellion by causing the First Pair to lose their lives. I simply sowed the seed of rebellion in others I met.” His head turned upwards as if the memory was a tangible thing for him.

“Cain, now he was a good subject. An open canvass to work on. The first killer. The first new sinner since his mother and father caused all their problems by listening to me.” He gave me a long hard look, as if willing me to challenge his claim.

“Both brothers had arranged a sacrifice for Him,” eyes swivelling upward. “Cain had all the fruits of the field. Abel –” he spat the name –“had a perfect young tender lamb, all ready to send up as well.

“I had been nudging and preparing Cain for so long.” Pride seemed to be thick in his voice. “Cain was jealous. I had sown jealousy among them. He liked Abel’s gift more. Cain drew Abel away and struck him down dead.” The perverse giggling once again.

“Of course Cain wasn’t killed for his heinous crime, instead he was branded on his forehead, as a warning to others, and sent away for his punishment. But I had succeeded in making man sink to a whole new level. And I loved it. They were like puppets to be manipulated at my will.

“Soon they spread like a virus upon the earth. Their rutting and grunting producing more and more little sacks of flesh and bones, which would inevitably die – given time.

“I found myself spending more time down among them. Hiding and wandering around in the shadows, fermenting chaos.

“Of course I had two brothers down upon the earth I could have a wee chat with, when the time became available, what with all my trouble stirring. The Cherubim ordered to stand at the gate of Eden, protecting the garden to stop Adam and Eve’s descendents from gaining entry,” he then said matter-of-fact. “That was until the flood came and Eden was destroyed.”

He continued with his story.

“They stood either side of the turning flaming sword. It’s called a sword but of course it wasn’t, just a turning stick really. But of course like everything it was simply symbolic. See if it was a sword that would mean He created the first weapon of war. Swords weren’t invented then. He called it a sword in His Book so the simpletons of the time would be able to associate with the object.

“Of course my two brothers were more than happy to chat with me, tell me everything they knew. That was until the flood came and swept almost everything away. They both returned to their heavenly positions when the flood started.

“See I was staying away for longer periods of time. Spending more time among man.” His twisted little smirk returned.

“But now something far different was about to take place. At this time I could materialize, become flesh and blood. That was until He forbid it. That’s why I use these bodies to appear before you.” He gestured a small hand towards the body he was occupying at that moment. “Of course we can materialize as many other things. But everything in its place.

“I used my fleshly body for a sin of my own. I lay with mortal women. I found a whole new world of pleasure I didn’t know existed.” He thrust his small pelvis in a widely exaggerated manner.

“That’s when it happened. Up until then all the others just watched. Even though their hearts were also turning black. Thousands then joined me in wandering the world of mortal man. Thousands of once perfect angels, like I once was, were now giving up their privileged positions to lay with females. My very own legion of demons.” His little body snapped to attention as if hearing words I couldn’t even being to comprehend. He started to talk as if reading from something; I knew he was about to quote from the bible because this was how he went yesterday while occupying the hooker’s body.

“Then the sons of the true God began to notice the daughters of men, that they were good looking; and they went taking wives for themselves, namely, all whom they chose.” A wide smile spread across his small dimpled face.

“Those first few years, when we discovered we could have sex, were amazing. Now that was one huge fuckfest!” He closed his eyes, as if reliving the memories.

“Time’s up,” he stated as if I was at the psychotherapist and my time had just run out. He took one more long hard drag upon his dwindling cigarette, before tossing it into the flames. He turned his gaze upon me.

“Tomorrow night I will tell of how my children were born. Giants they were. How my most beloved of children – Lucifer – was brought into being, and how he used mere man as his slaves. How our giant offspring – the Nephilim – in turn created even more powerful children. How great wars were fought, one against the other. And ultimately the cause of why He brought about the Great Flood that swept them all away.” He gave me one of his predatory smiles before his small head simply rolled to the side, eyes wide and seeing nothing. He was now dead.

I was annoyed at myself when I realized the minicorder’s tape had run to completion and I hadn’t even heard its soft click to remind me to turn it over.

So I sat quietly for an hour, trying to remember everything he had said, writing it down in my spiral notepad. I was also shocked to note that once again hours had passed while I listened to this extraordinary story unfold, and while I caught up with my note taking.

At least the small body would be easy to carry outside,
I thought. I felt a little saddened that I was becoming hardened to doing such things. A means to an end. And the fact that I had sat there for so long, while a dead child was in the seat opposite me, also made me sad.

As I suspected the body was almost weightless. I first slipped the over sized Homer slippers back on the child’s cold feet before lifting him easily outside.

Three bodies now all in a neat row.

How many more
, I thought?

Then it grasped me; I hadn’t actually read the bible in more years than I cared to remember. I wanted a small insight into what he would talk about the next night. So I could prepare questions, make it more like an interview rather than a one sided conversation.

Rummaging through an old chest of draws in one of my four spare bedrooms I found what I was looking for. A Gideon Bible, one I had found in one of the many hotel rooms I’d occupied. But unlike all the other times – all the other Gideon Bibles – this one I took. I can’t explain why. Thinking back I believe it was just after my second divorce. And so much had been taken from me; just for once I wanted to take something that didn’t belong to me. Like my wife had done with a lot of my money.

I went back to my seat with a tall glass of Macallan 12 year old Re-Awakening, single malt whisky and a corned beef sandwich, and settled down to do some reading. That’s the problem with being a writer, I get to the stage where all I seem to be reading is my own work, checking to see if it was up to the normal standards before sending it to my agent.

I flicked through the first few pages. In the beginning and all the stuff, which I’ve already heard. But for some reason I wanted to read it anew. With my feet on the footstall I started to read from the beginning – Genesis, chapter one, verse one.

The next thing I knew my back was killing me. Looking up at the clock I realized a few hours hadn’t passed, but rather, it was a whole new day. I had fallen asleep cradling the red-bound stolen bible on my lap.

Snap

I
was tired of feeling like I was losing my mind. But at the same time as saying that, so much needed to be accomplished before he returned tonight. I realized I was becoming obsessed with the story. Like a potent drug I needed more. It was consuming my every waking thought.

I had absorbed loads of information from my stolen bible. Last night before my eyelids became too heavy I had jotted down many questions that I wanted him to answer, and would ask when he returned tonight.

I found that the bible did talk about the angels who’d left their assigned positions in heaven, and had come down to earth and slept with females. How the bible, in Genesis chapter six and verses one through to four stated, that these unearthly liaisons resulted in giant men being born to the women. Even saying they were mighty ones of old, the men of fame. These giant offspring of angelic rebels ruled and roamed about the earth for over a hundred and twenty years, before God brought the flood and washed them away.

The bible says that God found only one man and his family worthy upon the whole earth to be saved – Noah. God had said:
“The end of all flesh has come before me, because the earth is full of violence as a result of them, and here I am bringing them to ruin together with the earth.”
I presumed it meant the nephilim – the giants –
Gibborim Nophelim.

I was to ask a few questions tonight when he returned. Asking more about these angelic offspring. And what had the world been like in those times; filled with such violence that God stepped in to put a stop to it. Also a hundred and twenty years the giants ruled, what condition was the world in? I even remembered him saying that even these giant nephilim had even more powerful children. That I couldn’t find written in the bible, so I was curious as to what he meant.

I even found myself wondering what form he was going to be taking, man or woman or even another child; at least the child was easy to carry outside.

I got to my aching feet. The fire was still burning with a vengeance in the hearth. All the same wood pilled up that had been there for days. Strange.

Maybe he had done something to it. But it was alight and that’s all that mattered to me. If only I had put more thought into it. Wondered why the shoes still rested untouched on the grate. But no, my mind was too full of other things. If I had given it more though I could have saved millions.

That’s the beautiful thing about hindsight.

I needed a shower. But my stomach felt like my neck had been cut. That though reminded me of the small boy’s body from the night before. So sad. So young.

I rummaged through my huge rounded Smeg fridge, looking for more things that might go out-of-date before the snow resided and I could get to a shop of some kind.

Nothing roused my interest. I lifted the lid on the large deep chest freezer that sat in one corner of the old kitchen. My second shock. I must be tired, there was more meat in there than I realized. Whole chunks of prime cuts. Bigger chucks than normal. All stacked on one side. I didn’t think too hard about it, I must have put it there.

I selected a bright red cut of pork belly, which once cooked would last me a few days. I put it in the microwave on a plate. I should have left it out overnight to defrost properly, but food had been the last thing on my mind as of late. While the joint defrosted I arranged the ingredients. I finely chopped some fresh herbs that grew on the inside of my kitchen window all year-round: basil, chives and sage, then mixed them with some extra virgin olive oil with a hint of basil. Once the pork had defrosted I rubbed the mix over the fleshy part, and wrapped it up tight with butcher’s string. I then placed it in a large cooking tray, on top a bed of leeks, soaked in Kopparberg pear cider and some dried herbs, then rubbed sea salt and ground pepper into the skin, in a mixture of butter, to make crackling.

I then made a large pot of strong aromatic coffee; in the same style that I picked up when I lived for two months in Andhra Pradesh, on the south-eastern coast of India.

I sat looking out my large ornate front room window while the cooker did its magic. I noticed the clouds had completely gone. And none sat on the horizon. Even the snow, which normally sat heavily upon the windowsill, had gone. Was the thaw coming?

I now stood inside the parlour looking out the small, now clear window. Only a few icicles dripped from above down the pane. The three bodies were still lined up. None were yet visible; it would probably take a few days for the snow to melt enough to see the corpses laying there.
What about the smell
, I thought? The snow – for now – was stopping the stink from wafting around.

But if the sun came out it would become unbearable. I would bury them I decided.

After I topped up the cider around the base of the joint, I left the roast sizzling away, filling the old farmhouse with its amazing aroma, while I went for a shower.

The bathroom was freezing after being in the hot kitchen, so I left the hot water running for a few minutes to take the chill out of the air. I undressed. Mud, all dark and dry covered my trousers. Where had it come from? The day before it was under my nails. Was I losing my mind?

My stomach rumbled. I also needed an alcoholic drink.

I showered, shaved, for the first time in three days, and put on a long thick fleece oxblood coloured dressing gown that had big baggy pockets, and some leather moccasin slippers that were covered with fur inside.