Shep stared at the male Reaper. The supernal creature was vibrating, its eye sockets fluttering, its life force diminishing rapidly.
“I never completed my tikkun, did I, Virgil? Not as Noah or in Auschwitz. Not now, as Patrick Shepherd. You said each soul has four deployments.”
“This was your last.”
“Who else was I? A mass murderer? An alcoholic, like my father?”
“Actually, you were a poet, a man inspired by the Light, yet lacking the discipline to keep from getting perpetually drunk on the forbidden fruit. James Douglas Morrison. His friends called him Jim.”
“Wait… Jim Morrison of The Doors?” Patrick turned to Trish. “I was Jim Morrison?”
The former Pamela Courson squeezed the deceased rocker’s hand.
The old man placed his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Are you ready to continue your journey, son?”
“No… just wait, wait one second. You said every soul must complete its tikkun before moving on to the Upper Realm. How can I be reunited with my soul mate in the Upper Realm if I haven’t completed my tikkun? And how can I complete my tikkun if you’re allowing this pandemic to wipe out humanity?”
“Mankind has chosen to move away from the Light. The generation of the plague shall have no share in the World to come.”
“So you’re simply going to allow Scythe to wipe out everyone? Just like that?”
“God is not mankind’s servant. God just is. It’s man who needs to take action, not the Creator. This was the test of existence.”
Shep balled his fists in frustration. “You know what, God? You really suck as a parent!”
“Shep—”
“No, Trish, He needs to hear it. You say we’re moving away from the Light? Maybe that’s your fault. Maybe we could have used some more spiritual guidance? Or how about a sign every once in a while that you’re not asleep at the wheel? Hell, it’d be nice to see a little justice in this world, too.”
“Every soul is judged at the appropriate time. The Creator no longer micromanages, Patrick. That just leads to more religious dogma, more false prophets… more chaos.”
“Then appoint someone who will micromanage. Give me one last deployment. Let me fulfill my tikkun… as him!” Shep pointed to the Grim Reaper.
“Baby, no. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“He’s been following me throughout Manhattan, Trish. I think he chose me. Humanity needs someone to keep the Grim Reaper’s old lady in check… the Upper Realm needs balance to be restored in the Malchut—well, I’m volunteering. What I’m not going to do is stand by and allow all those people to die. Not this time around… no way.”
“Know the ground rules, Patrick, before you volunteer for yet another war. The Angel of Death is a supernal being, able to access both the higher and lower worlds. There are demons out there… entities of existence that even Dante dared not imagine. Unless you remain vigilant, the forces of darkness will easily corrupt your soul.”
“My soul mate will protect me; she’ll keep me anchored to the Light.” Shep squeezed Trish’s hand. “It’s the only way we can be together again. It’s the only way I can protect our daughter.”
“You request this of your own free will?”
“I do.”
Virgil looked at Patricia, who nodded.
“Then the covenant is made. All those you choose to save shall be fruitful and multiply, all those you choose to condemn shall perish. And when the world regains its balance, your tikkun shall be completed, and you shall be reunited in the Upper Realm with your soul mate.”
Shep hugged Trish, holding her tight. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Virgil waited patiently until they separated.
“One last question… why me? I’m about the farthest thing from a righteous man.”
“As were all the great sages. The greatest Light, Patrick, comes from the greatest transformation.”
Shep maintained his grip on his soul mate’s hand. “There are no accidents, are there, Virgil. You set this whole thing up.”
“No, son. You did.” He took their entwined hands in his. “Just remember, free will works both ways. Noah failed to restrict himself in the Malchut and was castrated. Should you fail to restrict yourself in the supernal realm, the forces of darkness will corrupt you so that even the Light and love of your soul mate will not be enough to rescue you from this self-induced purgatory.”
Patricia squeezed his hand… then let go, her aura fading into the light.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Shep swallowed hard. “Any last spiritual advice you want to impart, Virge?”
The old man took him by the hand and led him toward the Reaper, the being’s body now bathed in the light of a rainbow. “Always remember, your soul is forever connected to the Light of the Creator. At times, your actions can veil this connection, but it can never be severed. Never.”
“Thanks. Hey, about that lousy parent remark—”
“Unconditional love is unconditional, Patrick. Embrace the chaos. Use it to eradicate the negative traits within you, and you will hasten your transformation into a true tzadik… a holy man.”
Shep took a deep breath. Then, reaching out, he touched the Grim Reaper’s bony hand…
Armed with his newborn son, his certainty, and a mangled steel prosthetic limb, Paolo Salvatore Minos reentered the frigid waters of New York Harbor. So focused was his mind that he no longer registered the cold. The water rose past his knees… still nothing happened.
Think of it as a baptism. He continued on up to his chest, the thirty-seven-degree surface mere inches from the baby’s blanket—
— sound and sky were suddenly blotted out as he stepped off the unseen concrete ledge and plunged underwater!
His heart pounded in terror as his left hand felt for the baby’s nose, his fingers pinching his son’s nostrils. He forced a panicked stride—
— his left foot relocating the perch. Using the steel arm as a crutch, he regained his balance and headed back up the ramp to save his child. But as his head cleared the surface, and he released the infant’s nose, he saw that he was not standing on the concrete boat ramp; he was standing on a hunk of ice!
The harbor had not parted; instead, it was progressively freezing all around him, at least some of it is — a ten-to-fifteen-foot-wide swath that appeared to be stretching southwest across New York Harbor.
He exhaled a frozen breath, his body trembling, tears pouring from his swollen red eyes. Turning back to shore, he was met by his teary-eyed wife, who gathered the crying infant in her arms, wrapping him in a dry blanket. “Paolo… how?”
“Certainty.”
David and Pankaj looked at one another, unsure of what to do.
The Tibetan monk gripped them both by the elbow, jerking them back into the moment. “Do not analyze the manifestation; use it to get everyone off the island!”
“Take Gavi, I’ll get the others!” David sprinted back to the school bus to awaken the children while Pankaj and Manisha helped Dawn and Gavi climb onto the edge of the ice floe, which bobbed yet managed to maintain its buoyancy.