what was on the other side, but he at least knew that he could get close enough to look. And then a small part of him hoped that he'd find a way back to Iowa where he could once again walk through the fields of golden corn and smell his mother's rhubarb pie.
So he listened as the government doctor explained about the nephilim that had been chained to the chair, invisible to all but him. About the nephilim who'd been creating hives across America. For what purpose, no one really knew for sure, but the government treated it like a military maneuver. Pre-positioning was the word La Chance used over and over. Creating hives of humans to serve each cherub, the nephilim were biblical royalty.
La Chance had quoted Genesis. "The Nephilim were upon the Earth in those days and thereafter too. Those sons of the gods who cohabited with the daughters of the Adam, and they bore children into them. They were the Mighty Ones of Eternity, the People of the Shem.
"No one ever really paid attention to that particular part of the bible, because it didn't fit neatly into Adam and Eve being the first. But the Bible says specifically that these creatures were on the earth before Adam, before Eve."
Before crack, Jethro couldn't help but think.
La Chance explained about the cherubs. Not the fat little babies of television, but powerful celestial beings who'd been in the presence of God. Cherubs like the angel who prevented Abraham from sacrificing his son, Isaac. Or the angel that wrestled with Jacob. Or the angel who led the Israelites under Moses out of the wilderness.
"Each hive is ruled by a cherub. They're here for a reason. If you look at history as we've done, each appearance resulted in a turning point for mankind." La Chance shook his head as he snapped shut the bible. "We can't let that happen. We're not prepared for a turning point in the history of the world. Not here, not now. We're quite happy where it is. That's where you come in."
To stop an angelic invasion? What if this was the end? Judgment day. What if God was pre-positioning his forces, preparing them to battle evil? Could he stop it? Did he want to? Trust an addict to rationalize.
"I know I shouldn't ask this, but how do I know this isn't some crazy elaborate hoax?" He licked his teeth, almost able to taste his next fix. "How do I know you're not fucking with me?"
The government man jabbed his finger at the paper one last time. Isaiah 13. Then he tossed him a Bible. "Read this, then get back to me if you have any questions."
***
San Remo’s Props and Wardrobe. Such a benign sign. The place seemed so common. So Iowa. So corn. If they only knew it was all porn inside. Back in the 80s, San Remo’s had been the number one provider of sexual devices and wardrobe. If they didn’t have it, they could build it. Nothing too big or too small. Outrageous and ingenious were slick partners under this roof. Closed now for twenty years, the building was both an odd choice and a perfect hiding place.
The interior glimmered with golden rays that seemed to originate from everywhere and nowhere, dulling the outlines of objects and rendering them to blur. He couldn't discern distance, objective relevance skewed by the warping of space, straight lines curving to abstract. His eyes began to burn, unable to withstand the constant assault of color. His gut twisted. His equilibrium faltered sending him tripping into the top of a railing that followed a set of stairs into the basement. He felt like he was in a funhouse without the fun.
Comet trails of color shot away from objects as his gaze moved on, searching for the Cherub, for the figure of pure golden light, for nephilim or any sign of a hive. Instead, blue men and women huddled against the walls whispering and firing neon green liquids into their veins, becoming purple as the liquid transformed them. The farther into the building he went, the more purple people he saw, and the more able he was to digest the colors. In the center of the room hidden by a low row of boxes lay a crisscross of purple bodies, helter-skelter pick-up-sticks of the drugged.
"J-dog come in," the voice hissed in his ear.
Jethro spied stairs rising to the second floor against the back wall. Should he take them or return to