Glimpses of a battle fought countless millennia ago danced across his vision of the past. Not a day went by that he didn’t relive it. He saw the faces of the elite soldiers, so beautiful and yet so full of rage, and he knew they believed in him, that the cause he fought for was just. “And as the Creator had done with the first humans, I touched them—each and every one of the army that swore their allegiance to me—and I gave them a piece of myself, a fragment of what had once made me the most powerful angel in Heaven.” The tips of his fingers came alive with the recollection of those who had received his gift, a black mark—a symbol burned into their flesh, a sigil that spoke of their devotion to him, and to the cause.
“We presumed that the Almighty had no right to do what He did to us—but we presumed too much,” the prisoner said sadly. He was exhausted by the painful remembrances of his sordid past; he lowered his hands, and the mouse resting within them, to his lap. “What were we trying to prove? What were our intentions?” He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Were we going to force the Creator to love us best?”
The mouse looked up from the nest within his hands, its dark eyes filled with what he read to be sympathy.
“It was a ferocious battle. I can’t even tell you how long it lasted—days, weeks, years perhaps—time passed differently for me then. We fought valiantly, but in the end, it was all in vain.”
The mouse nudged at his fingers, its tiny nose a pinprick of cold, and he began to gently pet it again.
“When the battle was finally over, when my elite were dead and myself in chains, I was brought before my Lord God, and finally began to realize the horror of what I had done.”
The prisoner closed his eyes to the flood of emotions that filled them, tears streamed down the newly grown skin on his face. “I tried to apologize. I begged for His forgiveness and mercy, but He wouldn’t hear it.”
A stray tear splashed into his hand and the mouse gingerly licked at the salty fluid.
“I was banished from Heaven, cast down to Earth, and as my constant companion, I would forever experience the pain and suffering of what I had done.”
The mouse looked up at him; its triangular head bent quizzically to one side.
“You want to know about the place called Hell?” he asked the curious animal. “There is no Hell,” he said. “Hell is in here.” He touched the raw, pink skin of his chest with the tips of his fingers. “And it will forever burn inside me for what I have done.”
“She said take a left onto Gagnon and there would be a community center where we could get food,” Gabriel whined.
“That’s what she said,” Aaron replied, looking around as they walked. All he could see were homes, each more rundown and dilapidated than the next.
“And what exactly is a community center?” the dog asked pathetically. It was past his suppertime and he was beginning to panic.
Aaron stopped, glancing back in the direction from which they had just come. “This is still Gagnon isn’t it?” he asked more to himself then to his ravenous companion.
“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered, his nose pressed to the sidewalk, searching for the scent of food. “I’m so hungry I can’t even think straight, and it’s getting dark.”
They started walking again. A gentle wind blew down the street, rustling what few leaves remained in the skeletal trees.
“Well, let’s keep going and see what we run into. Maybe it’s at the far end.”
“What if it’s not?” the dog asked, a touch of panic in his guttural-sounding voice.
Aaron sighed with exasperation. “Don’t worry, Gabe. If we can’t find the community center we’ll double back to the car, and you can have some of the dog food in the trunk.
“I don’t want that food,” he said, stopping, ears flat against his blocky head. “It gives me gas.”
Aaron could not hold back his frustration. “Look, I’m just trying to tell you that you won’t starve, okay? You will be fed!”
Gabriel’s tail began to wag. “You’re a good boy.”
Aaron laughed in spite of himself and motioned for the dog to follow him. “Gabriel, you’re a pip!” he said. “C’mon, let’s find this place before I starve to death too.”
The dog thought for a moment, keeping pace alongside his master. “I don’t think anybody has ever called me a pip before. I’ve been called a good boy, a good dog, a best pally, but never a pip.”
“Well, there you go,” Aaron answered. “Something new for the resume.”
“Do you think we will ever find Stevie?” Gabriel suddenly asked, changing the topic in an instant, as he was prone to do.
Aaron felt his mood suddenly darken. “As soon as we can leave here, we’ll start looking again.”
“How long will that be?”
Aaron felt himself growing angry again and took a series of deep breaths to calm down. “I don’t know,” he said flatly. “We’ll play by their rules for a while, but there might come a time when we’ll have to take a stand.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Gabriel said.
“Neither do I,” Aaron answered. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The two continued to walk in brooding silence, both thinking of the disturbing possibilities that waited in their future. They were near the end of the street when Gabriel stopped.
“What is it now?” Aaron snapped.
“Do you smell that?” Gabriel tilted his head back, nose twitching as it pulled something from the air.
Aaron sniffed at the air as well, at first sensing nothing, but then he too smelled it. Food—cooking food.
Gabriel was off in a flash, following the odor as if arrows had been put down on the street to lead them. “This way,” he cried excitedly.
Aaron had to quicken his pace to keep up with the hungry animal and watched as Gabriel darted suddenly to the left, moving onto the front lawn of one of the rundown homes.
“This isn’t a community center, Gabe,” he called, but the dog was in the grip of a food frenzy.
Gabriel followed the scent right up onto the porch and planted his nose at the bottom of the front door, sniffling and snuffling as if it were possible for him to pull some sustenance from beneath the door.
Aaron stood on the walkway. The smell was stronger and more delicious. He felt his own stomach begin to gurgle. “Gabriel, c’mon down! This is somebody’s house.”
The Labrador reluctantly turned his head toward Aaron. “But this house has food.”
Aaron moved closer to the front porch, feeling sorry for the famished animal. “I know there’s food here, but we can’t just invite ourselves in. Remember, we don’t know these people and they probably wouldn’t trust us anyway.”
“But you’re the Chosen One,” he said sadly. “And I’m your dog, who’s very hungry.”
If it weren’t so pathetic, Aaron probably would have laughed, but the events of the day so far had chased away any chance for humor. “Gabriel, come down here this instant or—”
“Can’t we knock and ask where the community center is?” the dog asked with a nervous wag of his muscular tail.