A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,68
now.
“Ah, a voice of authority,” Michael said.
Remy looked toward the archangel, who was now sitting on a throne made from bones that appeared blackened by fire.
“What happened to you?” Remy found the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.
Michael stiffened and then slid forward.
“What happened to me?” he repeated. “What happened?” The archangel looked about at the remains of Heaven, cobbled together to remind them of what had once been and what had been lost. “One would think you were new to the world, Remiel.”
Remy remained silent, staring defiantly at the creature that had once stood at the right hand of God.
“We were once a reflection of our God and the kingdom in which He lived,” Michael said. He stood, grimacing as if the movement caused him pain. “But that God is gone now,” he said, moving closer to Remy.
“And His kingdom?” The archangel lifted his arms, as if presenting the environment. “Take a good look, and I think you’ll understand.”
Remy did, and he was repulsed by what he saw. “It’s sad” was all he could manage.
Michael’s single wing unfurled with a whiplike snap. “Exactly!” The archangel bounded over to where Remy knelt upon the ground. “We are but shadows of our former glory.”
He walked past Remy toward the Filthies. “Look at you!” he screamed. “You should be ashamed!”
The Filthies cowered before the angel’s verbal assault.
Michael looked back to Remy. “But how else could they be, after surviving what they have?”
“This isn’t what God intended,” Remy said.
Michael turned his good eye upon the tribe.
“They’re monsters,” Remy told him.
Michael looked back, and Remy caught a spark in the archangel’s single, bloodshot orb.
“Would you expect anything less for what we have done?” Michael asked. “It’s well deserved. . . . It’s what we are supposed to be for now.”
“For now?”
“Don’t you know, Remiel?” Michael strode back toward him. “This is our punishment. . . . We are to live in this . . . this . . . wasteland until the Lord God sees fit to forgive us our sins and . . .”
“He’s dead, Michael,” Remy said flatly. “Murdered. There’s no one to forgive you except yourselves.”
The archangel smiled; where once there were teeth that glistened whitely like stars in the sky, there were now only jagged protrusions rotting in bloody gums.
“And that is where you’re wrong,” he said, shaking a finger at Remy. “He’s still here. . . . The Lord God is still here. . . .” The archangel looked about, his single eye widening. “And He’s watching!”
“You’re insane,” Remy said.
“He’s watching to see what we’ll do with this new and twisted world, filled with the damned . . . overrun with sinners.”
Remy struggled to stand, and the Filthies immediately bounded toward him, burned and blackened wings flapping pathetically.
“Hold!” Michael ordered, and they reluctantly backed away.
“Sinners?” Remy asked. “Who determined this? You?” He laughed. “There aren’t any sinners left in the world, Michael. Only survivors.”
Michael looked at him smugly and shook his scarred head. “You’re so blind, Remiel. Those taken when things went horribly awry—they were the blessed. Those who remain . . .”
“The sinners,” Remy finished, and Michael nodded. “You actually believe that, Michael?”
The archangel gradually straightened, the lone wing upon his back swishing back and forth like the tail of an agitated cat. “Why else would He have left us here? He needs to be sure we’re ready . . . ready to make the tough choices now that this world is winding down to its final days.”
“And once you’re done, and all the sinners are gone?” Remy asked. “What then? Do you think He’s coming back for you? To take you all to some new Paradise? . . . Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know,” Michael said. “It’s what I see inside my head. It’s what keeps me from ending my own existence . . . from driving a sword up through my chin and into my skull. It is what keeps me, and in turn, my legions, sane.”
Remy looked to the Filthies again, remembering what they once had been. He shook his head sadly. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Michael, but He’s gone.”
Michael’s deformed face became even more monstrous as Remy continued.
“This is it for us . . . for the world. We had our chance, and it ended badly. The Lord has been removed from the picture. . . . We’re lost now, cast adrift. It’s over, unless . . .”