The smoke drifted across the scene of the slaughter. The coughing and spluttering of a single survivor the only thing breaking the silence that had flowed into the space left behind by the gunfire.
Lorenzo Hamada was tough. He’d known that since he’d fought his older brothers and won. Since he’d survived his first knife wound. Since he’d killed his first man. He was not tough enough to survive the wound in his leg, though and unfortunately, he knew it.
The blood was flowing too fast, despite the tourniquet he’d applied with the strap from his rifle. Presumably a nick in the artery. Without microsurgery to repair it, he didn’t have long and no-one was going to happen across this spot so far from the main road. Lorenzo shuffled on his backside over to his truck and pulled the first aid kit down from the passenger seat. He found the cannulation needle and slipped it into position in his hand. Not that it would likely make a difference, but old habits from a lifetime in combat still held sway. If someone did come, his crashing blood pressure would make it hard to get a line in. This way, maybe there was a shot. He drew arrows all over his arm in Sharpie, so it was obvious then settled down to die.
“That is a smart move Lorenzo”, said a voice from the smoke.
Lorenzo squinted and shielded his eyes from the desert sun. A thin figure in an oversized football jersey and board shorts lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of the previous one, then flicked it onto the corpse of one of the dealers that had turned a simple buy into chaos.
“Not that it's going to help you. But then I guess you figured that.”
“You’re a bit of a dick for a hallucination”, Lorenzo said and laughed weakly.
“Good. Still keeping your sense of humour. That will help you keep it together for a few minutes in Hell.”
“You here to save my soul?”, Lorenzo quipped.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am actually. That a good guess? Or were you taking the piss?”
Lorenzo said nothing.
“Oh, you were joking. That’s pretty annoying. You really took the air out of my intro. Whatever. I’m Afrezeal, your friendly neighbourhood Angel. I’m looking to secure a conversion.”
“Conversion? You want me to say I believe in God?”
“It’s more of a mindset thing, not any specific words. I am trying to get you to see the error of your ways.”
“Do people normally have trouble with that, when they are dying from a gunshot wound that they got from their ways?”
“You’d be surprised. People like to see themselves as the hero, even if they very clearly aren’t.”
Lorenzo coughed again, and something gave in his leg. The flow became a flood.
“Woah there Lorenzo, looks like I’m going to have to remove a bit of time pressure from this chat.” The angel waved its hand and the smoke swirling around them slowed and then stopped.
Lorenzo looked in helpless fascination at a dust mote catching the light, hanging motionless in space. He blew on it lightly and it scudded slowly away.
Afrezeal eased himself down to the ground next to Lorenzo and leant back, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Now then, as I was saying. My job is to see if I can get you to see your life for what it is, and give you a shot to get into heaven.”
“Have you stopped time?”
“Wrong thing to focus on Lorenzo. You’re going to die soon. In about 15 seconds to be precise. But no, I’ve not stopped time, that’s impossible. I’ve just slowed it down rather a lot so we can have a chat before you go.”
“Why don’t you look like an angel?”
“That is a much better question. I wasn’t born into it you see, not like most of them. I had to drag myself up by my own wingstraps. Found my way into the role, from the other side of the tracks.”
“The role? Why would God want me in heaven? Why are you really here?”
“God is a competitive deity, Him bless him. He can’t stand to lose a soul to the other side if he can help it. Satan tells a good story about there being a final reckoning and gathering souls to fight in the final battle, but that’s a load of shite. It does play well with people who like to fight and don’t like authority mind you. Wins a few souls with that one.”
“So Satan is coming too? To talk to me?”
“Doubt it, unless he’s gonna get here pretty fast, given that you’ve only got now about 12 seconds to live. Plus you are pretty much earmarked for a spot down there. I’m just thinking there is a chance there. I’m actually very good at this job. Those golden shiny pricks don’t really know how to do anything but righteous, self or otherwise.”
“Well, I’d deserve hell.”
“That realisation is a good place to start. Most people whine about how it wasn’t their fault, they were forced into killing or stealing or whatever. I knew you were worth talking to. I’ll show those flappy muppets who’s the best angel!”
“You don’t sound like you like angels much, for an angel.”
“I like being an Angel, it’s just most of the born angels don’t think I’m one of them, even though I save more souls than any of them. Still never let me move into the Celestial Palace full time. Still look down on me like I’m still down below.”
Lorenzo smiled. “Sounds familiar man. No matter how much money I had, I never had the right accent, the right face, the right parents to fit into the nice safe neighbourhoods I wanted to move to. For my kids, you know?”
“Not really dude, but I’ve lived in heaven and I’ve lived in Hell, and I understand wanting where you live not to be on fire. Do you want a smoke? No use worrying about the damage it’ll do in the next 8 seconds.”
Lorenzo accepted a cigarette and a light with a grateful nod. “So 8 seconds, huh?”
“7 and a half.”
“OK. What would you like to talk about?”
