I bet you are. With that he descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he had no choice but to turn left, then a short hallway and a metal door. He grasped the knob, hesitated and asked himself why he was doing this. He'd read Isaiah 13 and found it to be exactly what had transpired in his mind when he'd first viewed the Nephilim in the chair. According to Mr. Jones, everyone capable of seeing the Nephilim had had the same experience. How odd that they'd all shared something written thousands of years ago having to do with the destruction of the world.
Why were the angels here? If he were to believe the government men, it was to destroy the Earth. Jethro didn't even need to think about it. There were a million things he hated about the world, but his memory of Iowa and the way things had been before he left were most precious to him. Who was he doing it for? Everyone he'd left behind. He couldn't go home, but he could ensure there was a home to return to, that there was a home for everyone else.
He popped one last rock into his crack pipe and smoked it. As the acrid smoke coursed through his lungs, the memory of a car wreck at age twenty and a romantic dinner with Stephanie at The Eldorado Steaks and Mariscos Buffet zapped from existence. That's okay. It was a fair trade for bravery. He never really liked Stephanie anyway.
The knob turned easily, so he opened it and stepped through. Light blinded him as at least a hundred Nephilim stood around the walls of the immense room, each glowing impossible white. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and made out a great mound of boxes in the center of an otherwise empty floor. Atop this darkness reigned, blotting out the ceiling in a roiling cloud of blacks and grays. He let the door shut behind him. The click echoed in the room. He winced, ready for an attack, but none came. Then he noticed that the nephilim were facing the walls like bad children being punished.
The sound of a bell striking reverberated through the room causing Jethro to cover his ears. The sound came again and drove him to his knees. The sound came once more and the Nephilim began swaying back and forth, moaning in a monotone dissonance. The cloud of blackness melted away revealing a golden figure resting upon a throne pieced-together from sexual devices.
Jethro could not move. The power of the Cherub's presence was so great that he couldn't even take his eyes off the angelic creature. The Cherub had the face and body of a baby, but was as large as a grown man. It shimmered with golden light. The eyes shown red and glared at him with what he could only describe as a loving fascination. Whatever courage the crack had granted fled in the face of this Old Testament being. Jethro tried to look away, he tried to avert his gaze, but he was completely powerless. A thin scream escaped his mouth.
The Cherub spoke, its alien voice almost out of octave range. The man-sized hand rose and a chubby finger pointed at him. The Cherub spoke again, this time screeching like an owl. The hundred nephilim spun on their heels. Each now faced Jethro, their moaning ceased.
Goosebumps popped along his arms. He trembled uncontrollably. He wanted to run. He didn't want to be here anymore. Who cared about Iowa? Who cared about the Big Rock Candy Mountain?
"J-dog, can you read—ssst—come in—ssst."
The transmission could barely make it through, but that wireless connection to reality helped him as much as a platoon of infantry. He managed to avert his eyes, at once lessening the power of the Cherub.
"Asylum." He could barely control the giggles in his voice. "Asylum this is J-dog. I have the target in sight."
"J-dog, say again last—ssst."
The Cherub spoke again, the sound like glass grinding in an open wound. Jethro grit his teeth. Dear God. How could this be an angel? How could this represent the hope of a benign God?
"Would you die for our sins?" asked the hundred Nephilim with one voice.
He couldn't take it any longer. What had been held at bay burst through the paralyzation. "Why?" he screamed. "Why do you ask me this? Why is everyone asking me this?"
"Because you have a choice. Die for our sins, or be