If Angels Fall

SIXTY-THREE

God was present .

Edward Keller felt the intoxicating heat of His love.It was overpowering — he was swirling in it, as he hurried through Berkeleyfor San Francisco, delighting in the celestial trumpeting that melted into hornhonking, waking him to the fact that his rental van was drifting towardoncoming traffic. Keller shrugged it off.

He had found Michael the Archangel. He had gazed uponhim.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus.

The transfiguration was near, brushing against hisfingers. All he had to do was obtain Michael, the last angel.

The Lord would illuminate the way.

For God will send His angels to watch over them.And they shall embrace them and carry them to Heaven.

Waiting for the light to change at an intersectionwest of the campus along Center, Keller feasted obsessively on a thumbnail. Hewas planning his route to the Bay Bridge, when a miracle blazed like aprophet’s comet before his eyes.

“Sweet Jesus!” He couldn’t believe it! It was Michael!

Heaven’s warrior!

Keller managed only a glimpse, a mind-searing glimpseof nine-year-old Zachary Michael Reed, wearing a bulging backpack and crossingCenter. He was walking.

He was alone.

Alone!

Keller drove ahead for a block and tucked his van intoa parking space ahead of a larger cargo truck, out of sight. He adjusted hispassenger-side mirror, catching Michael’s distant reflection.

And behold the earth shook and God’s angeldescended from the skies. His eyes were like lightening, and any who opposedhim were struck dead.

The boy’s image grew with each step, quickeningKeller’s pulse. He was sweating. What should he do? What if Michael spotted himand became suspicious? He had to remain calm. In control, as he was with theothers.

I am cleansed in the light of the Lord.

The final challenge.

Michael stopped at a store, less than three carlengths away. Had he noticed the van? He couldn’t have. Keller adjusted themirror again. It looked like a hobby store. Michael peered into the window,then went inside. Where were the adults? Was he allowed to go into the storealone? Keller waited. No one else appeared. The boy was alone.

It was a sign.

He must act on it.

Dominus Deus sabaoth.

Keller scurried to the back of the van, watching thestorefront from its tinted rear windows. He quickly changed into a shirt, tie,dress pants, and suit jacket. The same outfit he used for his insurance man. Heknotted the tie, combed his hair neatly, and slid on a pair of dark aviatorglasses.

The van’s side door rolled open.

Anyone watching with a modicum of interest would haveseen a very serious, professional-looking man of authority stepping from hisnew van to attend to an important business matter. If they guessed he was acop, they would be right, Keller would tell them confidently if pressed. For inhis beast pocket he carried the leather-cased laminated photo ID and shield ofRandall Lamont, special investigator for the State of California, a personalityhe had created after sending fifteen bucks to a mail-order house thatadvertised in the back of a detective magazine.

But Keller knew no one was watching, or cared.

Except God.

And He was lighting the way.