Queen of wands

CHAPTER EIGHT

“On the road again,” Janea sang, loudly and deliberately off-key. “Ah cain’t wait to git on the road ag’in!”

She was dragging herself through liquid mud that just barely didn’t cover her nose and mouth, by pulling at cracks on the ceiling of the cave.

“Janea,” Barb said, sucking in her breath to get through a tight spot. “Sound carries in caves.”

“Yep,” Janea said. “And the sooner we run into these things and kill a bunch of them, the faster we can get out of here. I’m getting really tired of mud. And my stylist is going to kill me for what I’m doing to my hair.”

“How you doing, Sergeant Struletz?” Barb said. She started to shake her head at Janea’s reply and almost got a mouth full of mud. Not that it would have mattered much. Her face was already completely covered.

“Great, ma’am,” the sergeant replied. “Loving every minute of it.”

“You sound serious,” Janea said, amazed.

“I am on a mission to destroy evil in God’s name, ma’am,” the sergeant said, happily. “And I’m in a cave. I’m good.”

“Randell?”

“What was it you said?” Randell replied. “Oh, yeah. Nominal.” He started laughing so hard he got stuck.

“What’s so funny?” Master Sergeant Attie asked.

“So, last night,” Randell said. “That was just last night, right?”

“Yeah,” Janea said. “That was just last night. Trust me.”

“So Mrs. Everette and Miz Grisham are staking out the cave the Old Ones used to attack the house,” Randell said. “They figured the one that attacked the Boones might come back.”

“Might have been,” Barb said. “We’ll have to wait for Stan to sort out the genetics.”

“If he doesn’t go mad first,” Janea said, chuckling.

“So Graham would call up there every fifteen minutes for a commo check,” Randell said. “‘Cave One, status?’ And Mrs. Everette would reply in this dry, I’m-An-Astronaut voice: ‘Nominal.’”

“It’s not funny,” Barb said.

“That was right up until a bit after one AM,” Randell said, chuckling. “When all of a sudden there’s this ‘ GRAHAAAM! ’”

“Well, what were there?” Barb asked. “Twenty of them? And who killed most of them?”

“Oh, yes,” Randell said, sarcastically. “The glorious power of the Lord God Almighty did save the day.” He ended the litany in a very thick Southern accent. Which sounded natural.

“Well, it did,” Janea said, cocking her head around to look back at him. “I mean, I may not worship the White God, but I recognize His power. I just think most of His Scriptures are poppycock. No offense, Barb.”

“None taken,” Barb said. “When it comes right down to it, most of the Old Testament is to fill out page count. People forget that. The essence of Christianity is only to be found in the words of Jesus Christ. And it all comes down to His definition of His Father: God is love. Everything else is padding. I enjoy going to Episcopalian worship. I like the pomp and pageantry and I enjoy a good sermon. But the truth is, whenever two or more are gathered in His Name, there is God. Heck, just Jordan and I count for that. You with me, Jordan?”

“Two or more are gathered in His Name, ma’am,” Jordan said. “Still wish we had a priest with us.”

“Priest, schmiest,” Randell said. “I’m glad the master sergeant turned up these guns.”

“What is with you and religion, Randell?” Janea asked.

“You picked now to ask?”

“I’m trying to take my mind off of sliding through muck,” Janea admitted.

“Look, I saw what Mrs. Everette did,” Randell said. “I get it. She’s got a special relationship with God. I don’t. I don’t want one. I’ve seen what a ‘special relationship with God’ gets you in the end, and I don’t like it.”

“Gets you in the end?” Barb asked, curious.

“Can we drop it?” Randell asked.

“Sure,” Janea said. “To each her religion. Or lack thereof, as the case may be.”

“I did four tours in Iraq,” Randell said after a few minutes of silence.

“I’ve done…seven?” Attie said. “You sort of lose count. More in the Rockpile.”

“I grew up in a small town,” Randell said, ignoring the master sergeant’s interjection. “Pretty similar to Goin, except in Kentucky. They’re all pretty much the same.”

“They’re the same all over,” Barb said. “Choose a country.”

“I was raised Baptist,” Randell said. “ Primitive Baptist, which is about as fundamental as you can get.”

“That’s pretty much out there,” Barb admitted. “I know some. Basically good people, but…‘You can’t point a person into heaven’ doesn’t seem to compute.”

“But that was what I saw as religion,” Randell said. “And don’t get me wrong. I believed. I knew that God had his eye on me every single second and that there was black and white. And everyone that thought like me was right and everyone that didn’t was evil. Homos deserved to be killed, screwing was total sin, hell was just the other side of dancing.”

“I had a similar upbringing,” Janea said.

“ Really?” Barb asked.

“Sort of,” Janea said. “My parents went to a similar church. Their actual expressions of faith pretty much stopped there.”

“Thing is, I believed,” Randell said, angrily. “I believed that God had a plan and a set of rules, and I had to live by them and everybody else did, too.”

“And?” Barb asked.

“And when I got out of high school, I had a classic education in fundamentalist doctrine, not much in the way of learning and not a job to be found.”

“So you joined the Army,” Attie said. “You’re not a stranger in that.”

“So I joined the Army,” Randell said. “Mostly for the college but also because, well…from my perspective, back then, this is a religious war. The kid I was then was perfectly comfortable with burning the whole Moslem world if they didn’t understand that Christianity was the only way. Don’t ask what I thought of Jews.”

“They killed Jesus,” Janea said. “Pretty much what most fundamentalist Moslems think, at a guess.”

“Buddy of mine in high school had a T-shirt,” Randell said. “‘Say what you like about Hitler, he killed a lot of Jews.’ We all thought it was a hoot. Not that he could ever wear it in public, even in our town.”

“Every religion has idiot fanatics,” Barb said.

“Yeah,” Randell said. “But we knew we were right. Then I went to Iraq.”

“You keep saying that,” Janea said.

“First tour was okay,” Randell said, ignoring her. “I mean, it wasn’t fun, but it was. I was killing hajis. I was doing God’s work. Just like Jordan is now.”

“A little different, I think,” Jordan protested.

“Not the way I thought,” Randell said. “Second and third was more of the same, just more boring. First one was in Fallujah.”

“Ouch,” Attie said. “That’s one hell of a first deployment.”

“Like I said, I enjoyed it,” Randell said. “By the fourth I was a junior sergeant, but I had three previous tours under my belt. And we had a different mission. More time with ISF-Iraqi Security Forces.”

“Thank you, Petraeus,” Attie said, fervently. “ Finally a guy who understood Counter-Insurgency.”

“I got detailed to work with an ISF company,” Randell said. “Liaison for support and training. We were working near Ramadi…”

Nobody asked a question. Finally he continued.

“We got called to a village. Al Qaeda was sort of on the run in the whole region. The sheiks had turned on them. Regular US units were combing out most of the hold-outs, then the ISF would back-fill. One of the US units in the area had been patrolling through the area and found…the village. And they said ‘It’s clear’ and went on. And it was.”

“Al Qaeda had cleared it,” Attie said.

“Thoroughly,” Randell said. “Every living being in the village was dead. Men, women, children. The dogs and the donkeys. We got to bury the bodies. The company commander was a Kurd. Good guy, spoke a little English. I couldn’t figure out how he could be so… The ISF guys weren’t taking it well, but they were so calm about it. I wasn’t. I was screaming to God. The CO told me I had to calm down. He was right that I was setting a bad example. But I asked him how anyone could do something like that? Kill everybody? Hell, even in My Lai there were troops that protected people. There was no indication of that in Al Qar. And his answer?”

“They believed in God,” Barbara said.

“They believed that God told them it was not only right, it was demanded,” Randell said. “‘They believe in God. So anything that they do is right.’ So you could sort of say I had an epiphany. Mrs. Everette, I don’t care if it offends you. There ain’t no God. There’s only the Devil playing at being nicey-nice. God is shit. Do I believe there’s something greater? Oh, yeah. And it’s hell and Satan and that’s the whole ball of wax. It’s nothing but a giant sham to make people do stuff that no human should do to another. Allah and God and Yahweh are all just posers, the same damned-and I use that term with interest-fuckers that all need to just go away and leave us the hell alone!”

“Oh,” Barb said.

“So if God is so high and mighty, how come we have to crawl through this stinking cave to fight these things?” Randell asked. “How come He doesn’t just blast them from on high? How come people had to die so we’d even know they were there? How come those people had to die and those women have to go through what they’re going through? Why, Mrs. Everette? If ‘God is love,’ then why?”

“I could give you the doctrinal answer,” Barb said. “But I don’t think it would make you any happier. Probably upset you more. So…You may feel as you feel, believe as you believe, and I’ll believe as I believe. Suits?”

“Not really,” Randell said. “But I don’t think I’m going to sway you, either.”

“I’m interested,” Attie said. “What is the doctrinal answer?”

“Most people say ‘free will,’ but that’s the children’s Sunday School answer,” Barb said. “Are we anywhere near out of this stuff?”

“Nope,” Attie said, shining a light ahead. “Still a couple of hundred feet, minimum.”

“Sugar,” Barb said. “The actual doctrinal answer goes back to the Fall of Man. The Garden of Eden thing. Part of the separation after the Fall of Angels was that they weren’t confined to Hell, they were confined to Earth. One of the reasons for the fall, according to some pretty good Apocrypha, was that God had created Man ‘in his own image,’ which was what caused that particular rebellion. There were three or four Falls, depending on which texts you believe. But there’s a lot of debate about what ‘in His own image’ means. The fundamental answer is, God is a great big fat guy with a beard. Or at least human looking. The more logical explanation, and the one that fits the translation of the word ‘image’ best, is probably sentience. That is, humans can think, plan and make decisions completely on their own. They can choose to do good or ill. Thus ‘free will.’”

“So what about angels?” Janea asked, fascinated.

“Angels seem to be more like AIs,” Barb said. “Same with demons. They’re programmed to do certain things and that’s that. The more complex they are, the higher in the hierarchy, the more things they can do. But they don’t have free will. If we ever get to the point of being able to actually study them, and I hope we never can, I think that’s what they’ll find. That angels are simply very complicated computer programs. Seen that way, the Fall was something like a corrupted program or a computer virus.”

“That’s not a very believer approach,” Attie said, surprised.

“Depends on how much of a thinking believer you are,” Barb said. “Nothing in that violates any of the Scriptures. It’s just a more advanced way of translating them. Possibly not advanced enough, but probably closer to the truth of the reality. The people who were first trying to understand the Fall didn’t have our level of technology. They couldn’t conceive of a thinking engine like a computer. The point is that both demons and Man were put on earth. God’s apparent intent was to let Man rule the earth, possibly even over demons. Maybe get them back in shape or something.”

“Okay, now,” Janea said. “ That’s very weird.”

“Fits with the scriptures,” Barb said. “Angels are not a higher form. Neither are demons, which are simply corrupted angels. Man is the next highest form after God. Angels are lesser than we, because we have souls. We have sentience. They don’t. The Creation in the Sistine Chapel got that just right. Angels are lower in the mural than Man. Man is the next creation after God.”

“So what happened?” Attie asked.

“Well, the apple thing,” Barb said, laughing slightly. “Women messed it up, according to the accepted texts. Basically, humans rebelled. God said, ‘This is your paradise and all you have to do is not eat of the fruit.’ There’s big debate about what ‘eating of the fruit’ really means. Did we invent agriculture? Writing? Philosophy that rejected the notion of God? But, whatever we did, we upset Him. To the point where he threw us out of the Garden and onto the Earth. Which was the province of demons. So we’re stuck here with the other rebels. This is our Guantanamo.”

“So I was right,” Randell said. “This is Hell.”

“If it were hell, there would be no chance for redemption,” Barb said.

“The thing being that, by our actions, by our faith, and through the intercession of his Son Jesus, we’ve got a chance to get off of this plane of sorrow and bask in His light for eternity. Through love and good works by some choices of faith. Simply by being and not being terrible by determinism. Through confession and being in a state of Grace, according to Jordan. I’m of the informed opinion that if you sufficiently worship your weapons, keep them well, protect the innocent, do not let fear overtake you and die well in battle you’re okay, too. For that matter, ‘an firstly do ye no harm’ seems to work, as does Buddhism, which isn’t even a religion, and the more positive aspects of Hinduism. I have met people that God clearly has touched who come from faiths so divergent from, well, Primitive Baptist, it’s hard to see the connection. Janea is the priestess of a goddess of sex , and God has given her power through my connection to Him. God is love. All the rest is dross. And to find Him all you need to do is truly love. And whenever two or more are gathered in the name of Love, which is His name, then He is there. Janea could probably argue that two people having loving, joyous sex are worshipping God.”

“I was just about to point that out,” Janea said.

“God is on my side,” Randell sang sarcastically. “Still doesn’t explain the demons.”

“But free will does,” Barb said. “Demons, or these Old Ones that I will admit have some non-demonic aspects, need the intercession of humans. God gives us that choice. We can choose to be good, we can choose to be evil or we can do what most of us do, which is muddle along in the middle. But the reason that God does not strike these things down from on high is that He expects His followers to take care of things. Which is exactly why we are here. Humans brought these things into being, and humans, with the help of God-as the evil humans had the help of demonic agencies-are to set things to rights. God helps those that help themselves, if you will. Or would you rather a God who held your hand while you sucked your thumb in a corner?”

“Point,” Randell said.

“The actual point is, Special Agent, that even if you reject God, God does not reject you. If you love and do not hate, if you live by His basic precepts, the Golden Rule, if you will, then you are good. His forgiveness, even for rejecting Him, is infinite.”

“So you’re saying that if I live a good life I’m doomed to play a harp for all eternity?” Randell said. “No, thank you.”

“The harp motif is so fourteenth century,” Janea said. “Back then most people worked hard from sun to sun and died young. Sitting around all the time and not having to work for their food was the only thing they could imagine as paradise. Valhalla isn’t playing a harp. We Asatru are called to battle. I mean, like I told Barb, I tried out Astari, which is all nonviolent and whole-grain goodness, and got really bored. Which is why I’m Asatru. Give us a harp and we’ll try to eat it. Give us a battle and stand back. The afterlife is what you are called to. I know a person who’s pretty certain it’s the chance to meet and talk with people like Da Vinci. Although I think the line of geeks is going to be sort of long.”

“So all I’ve got to do is live a blameless life and I’m in?” Attie asked. “No church, no singing?”

“In my opinion?” Barb said. “Yes. Love and do not hate. Treat other people with love and respect unless they have clearly given themselves to evil. And even then, understand and forgive them if you can. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them live, mind you.”

“Hmm,” Attie said. “So what if you’ve sinned?”

“Sin is such a big word,” Barb said. “And it’s a really narrow concept. I’m not saying that it’s all shades of gray; it’s not. But there’s a really easy way to define sin. Do you have any sort of conscience? I know some very good warriors who don’t. They have to just fake it.”

“I know the kind of guys you’re talking about,” Attie said. “But, yeah, I’ve got a conscience.”

“Anything you’ve ever done you really wish you hadn’t?” Barb asked.

“Couple,” Attie admitted.

“Can you forgive yourself?” Barb asked.

“That’s a tough one,” the master sergeant admitted.

“God can,” Barb said. “But it helps if you can. People seek forgiveness for that sort of thing in a lot of ways. The doctrine of Confession is the traditional Catholic method. I…know someone who has a lot of forgiveness to seek. He’s seeking it through…good works. I, frankly, wish he was with us now.”

“I thought you said good works,” Randell said.

“By certain definitions of good,” Barb said, chuckling slightly. “Killing demons? Good. Counts for a bunch of rosaries, or so I’m told.”

“Oh.”

“Others seek it through self-examination,” Barb continued. “Mostly, though, people seek it through the normal sort of absolutions. Owning up to it to the people that they’ve hurt. Seeking to redress the damage. Doing things that counteract the evil they have done. My friend’s approach is…idiosyncratic. But sincere. And, again, unquestionably in there with God. He had some actual demons to throw off of his soul. But once he did, he’s pretty much in as much of a state of grace as anyone I’ve met. And what he does is kill demons. And their worshippers.”

“That gets back around to where I have issues,” Randell said.

“I wasn’t planning on getting Jesus in a cave,” Attie said. “But you’re a very good missionary, Mrs. Everette. And you can shoot. That’s a benefit.”

“Think about what you just said,” Barb said. “‘Getting Jesus.’ Getting has several connotations in English. It means ‘receiving,’ which is the meaning I think you meant. But it also means ‘understanding.’ Which is equally the case. This is how to ‘get’ Jesus.

“All that Jesus really asked is that we love our fellow man and care about him. Why on earth are you in this cave if not for that, Master Sergeant Attie? Adventure? You’re far too experienced a warrior. You’re here to save lives. Jesus dragged a cross up a long hill while stones and food and spit were hurled at Him, was nailed to that cross, suffered, and died a most painful and horrible death to prove to His Father that we poor humans were worthy of being forgiven for whatever Adam and Eve did to tick God off. He died so that we might live in eternity, period. If you die in this cave, open-eyed and willing to die to save others, do you really think that Jesus is going to reject you? He’s a guy who got nailed to a cross to save our souls. Yeah, He has enough forgiveness for you, Master Sergeant. And He is going to appreciate someone who’s willing to die to save others. Been there, done that.”

“You know,” Attie said, thoughtfully. “If you’d been my preacher when I was growing up I might have stayed with the church. Baptist, too, by the way.”

“I know a few very good Baptist ministers,” Barb said. “I also know more who are total pricks, pardon my French.”

“You’re making me think about converting,” Janea said with a laugh. “But I love sex too much.”

“Mary Magdalene was a prostitute,” Barb said. “There’s no other way to interpret Matthew. So was her sister, Martha. Which made Lazarus, who Jesus raised from the dead, their pimp. God may be a little down on it, but Jesus has no issues.”

“Speaking of whom,” Janea said. “Where is Laz?”

“Probably finding a drier route,” Barb said with a chuckle. “He took one look at this passage and clear as day said ‘Blow that!’”

“Well, we’ve got an open area up ahead,” Attie said. “Finally.”

“Might want to let me go through first,” Barb said. “The last time I let somebody else take point it didn’t turn out well.”

“I think it’s okay,” Attie said. “Unless your Old Ones have green cat eyes. He apparently found a drier route. Little bastard.”

“Language, Master Sergeant.”