*CLICK*
"The Top Ten Signs that annoying guy in your office might be a demon number ten: Instead of decaf he drinks brimsto-"
*CLICK*
"And if you act now we'll throw in a FIFTH digital camera for free so you can monitor your home for demons twenty-four-seven!"
*CLICK*
"Coming through the desert in West Iraq, if you come to East Compton I'm gonna bust a cap! Don't bring your demon nonsense up in my hood, the Crips are rollin' large and we up to no good!"
Baines sighed and looked at Clarence, now bathing himself on the recliner. "I don't know if its more disconcerting that he's rapping about demons, or that it's a good tune." There was a loud knock at the door. He walked over and picked up a digital camera. Opening the door, he turned it on and looked at the screen. Humans.
He looked up and his eyes widened. It was in fact two men in suits and two men in army uniforms carrying automatic weapons. "Norman L. Baines?" One of the suited men asked.
"Ye-yes, sir." Baines stammered It was a strange feeling to be unused to talking to someone else. He hadn't said five words to a human being since the Message. He stuck out a foot to prevent Victor from making an escape.
“My name is Robert O'Shea, I'm with the Pentagon. This is my colleague, Doctor Watts. May we have a few moments of your time?" He stood solidly, implying that his request was nothing but. Dr. Watts, however, looked like someone who would rather be anywhere else.
"Ah, sure, come on in." Baines shook himself out of his momentary daze and ushered the men in, hurriedly moving dirty dishes and stacks of books and papers out of the way. One guard remained at the front door and the other simply nodded to O'Shea and began to move through the house. "Please, sit down.", Baines gestured to a dingy sofa. O’Shea sat down, but Doctor Watts remained standing, studying one of Baines's bookcases. "How can I help you guys?"
"We wanted to talk to you about your book, Mr. Baines." O’Shea opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick, collated document bound in plastic.
"I never… my…" Baines took the book and his eyes bulged as he read the cover, The Science of Hell, by N. L. Baines. "But this wasn't published! Where… how in the hell did you even GET…CHARLIE!" He looked at O’Shea. "Charlie gave it to you! That bastard!"
"That's right Mr. Baines, your brother gave this to us. Don't be hard on him though. The President recently signed an executive order requesting all knowledge of demonology and demon-history be surrendered to our department. Had Lt. Baines withheld this document, he could have been tried for treason." O’Shea leaned in closely, his eyes scrutinizing Baines inch by inch "Where do you get your information, Mr. Baines?"
Baines's mind swam. He'd had this same feeling in graduate school when he showed up for his final on archaeological methods after spending the night cramming for medieval literature. "What? Uh… I just kinda read-up on it. It's a hobby, you know?"
A snort from Dr. Watts drew Baines's attention to the bookshelf. "This is the Key of Solomon?" Baines shrugged. "In Latin? That's a bit more than a 'hobby', Mr. Baines.
Baines felt his hackles rise, "And what? I'm supposed to trust that dipwad, Mathers to translate it correctly for me?"
Watts wasn't listening as he pawed through more books, "O’Shea look at this nonsense: A Field Guide to Demons, A Dictionary of Angels, Dragon Magic, Secrets of the Vatican, Norse Runes and Magic…" He shook his head in disgust. "He's just a nut. We're wasting our time."
Baines was on his feet in an instant. O'Shea was startled that this mild-mannered scientist could look so enraged "Now you listen to me, you pompus, self-assured, g-man prick! I don't come into the Pentagon and tell you how to polish your desk and shuffle your papers, so don't tell me what I know in my own house!" He took the books out of Watt's hands, and pointed at the couch. "By the way, you're right. Most of what's in these books is ridiculous superstition and nonsense, collected by centuries of nut-jobs. However," his voice began to change into the voice of an excited professor and O'shea was briefly reminded of his History professor back at NYU.
Watts rolled his eyes. "For example?"
Baines sighed condescendingly, "qui habet aures audiendi audiat. Alright, Captain PHD, take a look at this!" Baines walked over to a wall and pulled down a large hanging rug with a flourish revealing a large chart. There were hand-written notes, string, and pictures all over it. Both men stared blankly, as though unsure if Baines might turn into a baldrick at any moment "THIS," He pointed to the chart. "Is just about every book ever written about Judeo-Christian demons and hell, set chronologically." He pointed to lines connecting them. "As you were so kind to point out, they're about eighty-five to ninety-five percent crap, but they have common threads, and those threads migrate over time." He traced the lines with his fingers. "You can see here's old-testament, pre-Christian stuff, and it trends onward, and then BAM." He stopped at a prominent 'zig' "Constantine and the Roman Empire. Changes opinions, but some things stay the same. We also have shifts during the Dark Ages, and a BIG shift with Dante. But, if you look hard enough you can sift through the crap and find out what makes sense."
"Makes sense? Robert, this man is a GEOLOGIST." Dr. Watts got up and walked toward the opposite wall. He scratched some paint from the wall, revealing silvery metal underneath. "And his entire house is wrapped in aluminum foil. I'd wonder if anything DOESN'T make sense to him."
"Wait a second," Baines raised a hand. "I did my house like this because I have an aluminum allergy. You got a better idea? And for your information Doctor," again he spat out the word, "I only WORK as a geologist. You have my book, you have my file. You know what I've studied, but it's obvious you're here because you want to know what I know." Baines spoke slowly and with purpose, as though he were waking up from a dream and finding the real-world was a much better place for once.
"It makes sense to me, Watts. And remember, he figured out how demons could fly before we knew they existed." O’Shea stood up and walked towards the chart. His fingers traced various threads, and as he looked at Baines, he felt he was seeing the man for the first time. "He may be a little crazy, but you should see the people Randi is getting." He pulled out a cellular phone and pressed a button. "He's a keeper." He closed the phone. "Norman, how'd you like to go to Washington?"
The front door opened and soldiers came in with boxes and hand-carts. Baines waved them off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back the truck up!" He glanced warily at O'Shea, "I've got a job here, and you still haven't told me who you're working with." The agent handed him a card.
DEPARTMENT OF INTELLIGENCE AND MILITARY OPERATIONS (NETHERWORLD)
"D.I.M.O.(N)? Kudos to your acronym department. You're kidding me, right?" His smirk faded as he looked at his living room. There were two government agents, two armed soldiers, and four more soldiers loading his entire library and home into boxes. "Have I been drafted?"
"Not exactly, Norman. It's kind of like eminent domain. You've been forcibly hired," O’Shea stuck out his hand and smiled for the first time. "Welcome to government work, Mister Baines. The pay sucks, but you get to kill things and nobody will call you crazy."
Baines felt weak at first, with everything moving so quickly around him, but he then gave O'Shea's hand a firm pump and said resolutely "I'll go get my lightsaber and then we can go." Then he thought for a second. “What about my cats?”
O’Shea sighed quietly. “You have carry-boxes? They might as well come as well. Nothing could be crazier than the way things are going right now.”
(Note of appreciation to Chewie who wrote the last section).
Chapter Sixteen
On the Shore of the Styx, Fifth Ring, Hell