The beeping was an intense, continuous background noise. I tried to focus on it, desperately trying to make the time between each beep take just a moment longer, to make more time out of moments. Watching the clock at the end of the day always took ages, why couldn’t this moment do the same? I finally gave up and focused my gaze upon the man in the bed. I recalled when he was the biggest figure in my life, teaching me how to ride a bike and be thankful for everything I had.

My father was so frail now, a skeleton compared to the man he had been. I tried to hold back the tears as he turned his head to look at me. The family shifted their gaze just for a moment and I tried to think of what I was sure would be the last thing he heard.

“Dad, momma’s waiting at the crossroads for you,” I said, my eyes welling with tears as I held his hand. His face was taken over by the biggest smile I’d ever seen and the moment between the beeps finally took an eternity each. Then the moment was forever gone.

“You’re going back.”

Satan thought back to that fateful moment. He had been in Hell, silently celebrating his six thousandth year in his own personal prison. Sure, the other souls were there too and all, but Satan had known that place was made specifically for him. Under his three piece suit were shackles, thin and invisible. Every morning he woke up they were there, squeezing his ankles and wrists just tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Subconsciously he rubbed his wrists, marveling at the fact that they were gone.

That day had been five years ago now. After a short meeting with God, who all but begged him to be good, the shackles had disappeared. He was finally free to go wherever he wanted – including Earth. After a short chat about the current state of affairs, God sent Satan back to the place that he belonged.

Touching down upon Earth, Satan had found himself on the top of a mountain with a clear view of a city in the distance. Having studied maps occasionally in his many years in Hell he knew the city was Seattle. He did a slow spin, taking in the beautiful scenery.

Satan grinned at the recollection. That had been so like God, to send him to a mountain. As if that of all things would change his mind. God could never have known that six thousand years could actually change his greatest criminal. As Satan got dressed and went out his front door to greet the day, he thought of how he’d spent the last five years.

At first he’d spent his days as a public speaker, trying to encourage people to be their best. He’d spent these days in disguise, biding his time and preparing for his grand vision. That grand vision had been completed just last month. He started the long hike down the mountain. His home was just at the base, hidden from sight by a barrier of trees that Satan had gently encouraged to grow large and strong.

As he walked, Satan mentally prepared himself. He had been on forums and sites, spreading the word that he was back and ready to interact with his followers. Today was the day that he would get to see them.

After a few minutes of walking he caught his first site of his temple. He stopped for a moment to take it in. It looked like a perfectly ordinary church, and he smiled at the thought. The only difference was the pentagram over the door. He started walking, invigorated, towards the door. As he took each step an aspect of his appearance shifted. First his bright blue eyes darkened until they were totally back. His jeans turned into a fine pinstripe number and his shirt changed from a polo into a proper dress shirt in a deep red. He felt himself grow slightly taller as his legs changed from human to goat. Red fur sprouted all over his body. The short beard he’d settled on shifted into a goatee. Finally, his horns grew out of his head, curling back.

He threw open the doors and looked upon his congregation. It was the most eclectic group of people he’d ever seen gathered. There were adults, teenagers, a few old-timers and one or two families. There were goths, hippies, and conspiracy nuts. There were normal people too, but they were far outweighed by the outcasts.

A collective gasp ran through the crowd.

“It’s really him…”
“I can’t believe it…”
“Told you.”

As he ascended the steps to the podium, he put on his best smile and finally turned to face the crowd. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a text. Upon seeing the text the crowd once again gasped.

“I knew it!”

Satan looked around for the speaker before settling upon a teenager, clad entirely in black, sitting in the front row. Satan gave the teen a slight smile before responding.

“You know nothing.”

Taking the book into two hands, he ripped it clean down the middle and tossed the two halves into a brazier behind him where flames swallowed them. He looked out at the crowd and smiled. Now, he had their full attention.

“That book, in case you didn’t recognize it, was the so-called Satanic Bible. While Anton LeVay has some decent points, particularly about the hypocrisy of religion, I’m here to clear something up.

There is no magic. There is a God. The Golden Rule is valid. And the Bible is largely true.”

Upon mentioning the Bible he pulled it from his other suit pocket, holding it in the air for all to see.

“I am here to deliver you the truth, and until a better one is written we will study this book. We shall be known as self-aware Christians. We will examine where the Old Testament shows us the truth, and where it descends into the deepest falsehoods.”

Opening the book, Satan began reading, stopping occasionally to clarify points and deliver personal experiences. He did not omit anything and he did not paint himself in a positive way. When he arrived at the paragraph where he offered the apple to Eve, he stopped and put the book down for a moment. By now half the congregation had left, disappointed in their dark lord. The other half was listening intently.

“I should not have done what I did. I am the one that made you mortal by breaking God’s rules. Now I’m free, and I just want to help you all come to terms with your mortality. Have no doubt, God loves you all. His religion, though, has been hijacked by people who do not know all the facts. Know this: the best you can do to make it through this cruel world is love one another.” He paused to consider his next point, when it came to him.

“And if a stranger offers you an apple, be suspicious. You never know what it could do to you.” With a wink he closed the Bible and walked out of his temple.

I sat in a chair on out back porch, looking over the sunset and enjoying the nice weather. Beside me was my wife, whose hand was intertwined with my own. I let out a breath and she turned to me with a quizzical look. I met her eyes and gripped her hand with a grin. Her face reflected my own as we looked once more at the yard.

As the children played in the yard I tried to take it all in. I didn’t want this moment to end. I was shaken from my daydreaming by my wife.

“Aren’t you glad it’s spring?”

I looked at her with that stupid smile plastered to my face as I responded.

“Sweetie, it’s spring for everybody else. For me… This right here? This yard? This is heaven.”

“Right over there?”

“Yes, right over there.”

I couldn’t understand how this was supposed to be punishment. I mean, I’d done bad things, I’d hurt people, and I even blew off a few parking tickets. By all accounts, I should be eternally pushing a stone up a mountain while being stabbed with hot pokers. This… was not that. I turned to the devil, in all his 8-bit glory.

“So I just have to walk across the room?”

“Yes,” said the devil, twirling what I could only assume was meant to be a mustache. “And if you fail, you try again!” He gave out an unpleasant laugh as I looked at my obstacles, or rather the lack thereof.

In front of me was a room. On the other side was a BFG, levitating to show off all its glory. I gave the devil a sideways glance, wondering where the trick would come in, before starting on my walk.

As I took my steps the room distorted, glitching out in several places all over the wall and the ceiling. I watched the floor carefully and was rewarded for my attentiveness when I avoided stepping in a pit. At the bottom I could see Clyde, the ghost from Pacman and Bowser looking up at me.

I stepped around the pit and reached the BFG when the devil called out. “Wait! You’re not supposed to make it that far!” I turned and gave him a middle finger as I stepped backwards into the gun.

Suddenly I was holding the BFG. I grinned as I looked down at the gun and back at the devil. Little pixelated bricks were hitting the ground behind him at a rapid rate as I lifted the gun and cocked it.

“You’re not an AI, are you?” The devil was backing away slowly as he realized his predicament. I aimed down the sights as I tried to think of a reasonable response. As it came to me, I couldn’t help but smile.

“The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world.”

Then I pulled the trigger.

(This is a sequel to the Astologist story, following Stephen Rook’s son.)

---

Joseph Rook got a good look at his father’s obituary. Thought he had only been twelve at the time, he had a decent enough idea of what went wrong. All of the fluff and the “accolades” for the deceased father, colleague, and writer missed one crucial detail. Actually, “missed” probably wasn’t the right word. Glossed over, more like. As Joseph grew up he started to learn more and more that his father, the man who had tossed him on his knee, the man who had cheered him on in little league, the man who had given him a deep hug when the government men came to collect him, was a fraud.

It came little by little. He saw the word astrologer and looked it up. What he found was search result upon search result of people declaring the people to be positively loony. Especially now that mankind was colonizing other planets in systems far away, how anybody could believe that the potential in the stars was only meant for life on Earth was beyond little Joseph.

He made himself a promise, that he would not be like his father. He started by reading everything he could. Friends, family and the outside world disappeared for years while he consumed. Joseph loved to spend his days, where ever society demanded he be, nose in a book.

Around the time that he started high school, Joseph started programming. He created small, simple games at first. Over time these became more and more complicated, until he stuck on the idea of AI. Of course, artificial intelligence was more advanced every day, but he endeavored to discover it himself, only looking at others’ work when he needed direction.

A pleasant side effect of being stuck in a book was that Joseph excelled in school. He graduated high school and, remembering his father’s predicament, decided to major in linguistics. College was a blur. While all of the other students wasted time partying and finding themselves (often face down on a futon in a strange room) Joseph blazed through his classes, graduating a year earlier than his peers. As he stepped out of the college with diploma in hand, he knew he was ready.

The aliens had only spread over the past nine years. Space travel was becoming more and more difficult, and any attempts to communicate with them were fruitless. Joseph, however, had a burning desire to see peace.

He started by finding every recording of the creatures he could. From the live feeds of the soldiers who were torn apart before his father, to the attack on a human base on Pluto, there was plenty of it. At first he tried to listen and discern a pattern, but quickly found that it would be fruitless. He then turned to programming, attempting at first to create a simple program that would count each syllable, consonant and try to form a pattern. Once it was complete, he set it to run through all of the data he had.

With such a large pool of data, Joseph knew that it would take a long time. He found a job at a tech company as a translator to occupy his time and to help pay for continued upgrades to his computer.

---

Five years passed. Joseph found a woman named Marigold who made him smile and had a son. He named him Stephen, after his father. He hadn’t forgotten about his obsession, however. He had collected a few servers and had them running day and night to try and discern a pattern. He occasionally modified his program, and filled his spare time with long sessions at his computer with eyes reflecting lines of code.

Then, one day, it was done.

---

“Mary! Mary!” Joseph could hardly contain his excitement. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. As Mary burst into the room holding a fire extinguisher, the progress bar on Joseph’s computer counted down. 3… 2… 1…

Hello.

The words seemed to leap off the screen. Joseph spun his chair around, ready to leap up and hug his wife when he noticed what she was holding. “What’s up with that?” he asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

Mary’s face got red and she lowered the fire extinguisher sheepishly. “I thought the old HP server was on fire again.” She grinned and set the fire extinguisher by the wall and moved to her husband’s chair. “So, big news?”

“It’s done. The program completed. It’s translated their language!” Joseph didn’t need to say who’s. Mary knew about her husband’s obsession and usually just rolled her eyes. Now, however, she was deadly serious.

“So you’re going?” Mary knew better than to tell him not to go. She knew how much this meant to him. She never really thought it would work, though. Lots of people had dreams, but most people never got to realize them. She had always assumed that some day he would move on. Now the moment was here, however, and she knew what it meant.

Joseph, aware of his wife’s feelings, tried to think of a response. It was an unspoken truth in their relationship, that Mary was content to stay on Earth forever so long as she had Joseph and Stephen. She wasn’t concerned with the lack of expansion in space, only with her family. Stephen, however, knew this was what he was meant to do. Failing to come up with any reassuring words, Joseph simply nodded, feeling his eyes start to well up. He stood and embraced his wife.

They both cried for a short while before Mary pulled away and held Joseph by the shoulders. “Be careful?” Mary didn’t dare tell Joseph what to do, and vice versa. It was a plea, more than anything. Joseph looked into her beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

“Of course.”

---

The doorbell rang and everybody looked up. Little Stephen was concerned mostly with his animal crackers, but Mary and Joseph met each other’s eyes and the concern in her eyes was placated with the excitement in his. As Mary went to the door, Joseph ran upstairs to his office and grabbed a small device, unplugging it from his computer and bolting back down the stairs. He could hear polite conversation being made in the entryway. That stopped when he arrived.

Major Sloan met his eyes. “Mr Rook. Are you ready?” Joseph smiled.

“Yes sir.” They didn’t waste a moment. Joseph hugged his wife and left the house. Stephen came into the entryway as the car pulled away. After a brief pause, he turned to his mother.

“Where’s daddy going?” he asked, curious.

“Daddy’s going to save the universe.” Mary smiled and patted her son’s head. “Now come on, we’ve got cookies to make.”

---

“We’ve been shot at, our territories have been taken, and we have lost many good soldiers.”

Joseph stared at the device. He couldn’t believe that it had been something so simple. He typed out his reply.

“We are sorry. We were not aware of your presence, and from our perspective you appeared from nowhere to destroy our ships.” As the device output a sound that sounded a lot like nails on a chalkboard, Joseph puzzled over what he could say next. “What can be done to make this right?”

The military personnel regarded the aliens with suspicion, and Joseph didn’t blame them. It had taken all of his persuasive skills to get them to leave their weapons behind, and if this failed he knew he was almost certainly doomed. Everything seemed to be going well, however.

The response came and Joseph consulted his device. “We have discovered many other sentient species such as yourself. Can you decipher their languages so that we may have peace with them as well?”

“Absolutely.”

---

Many years later, human spaceflight is unhindered. Joseph formed his own company to create a personal translator that quickly became standard issue for military personnel, merchants, and later, the general populace.

Peace had finally arrived, and Joseph had been the one to bring it.

Stephen Rook couldn’t really understand why he had been chosen for this mission. Six days ago he had been sitting in his unexceptional one-bedroom apartment, at his boring desk, his brain numb from trying to come up with twelve different ways to tell people the same thing. You are exceptional, but lack motivation. You will receive good news in the near future. Your cat has cancer.

He sighed, and wiped sweat from his brow. Wasn’t anybody else here nervous?

As he glanced about the shuttle, he realized that all of the big, burly, and gruff men surrounding him were totally at ease. He regarded their weapons with slight jealousy, as nobody had bothered to give him a gun.

“Ready for this?” Stephen realized that this was directed at him. He leaned forward and exhaled, intent on absorbing every detail on what seemed to be a lone particle of dust on an otherwise immaculate craft. Finally he turned to the voice.

Lt. Sloan, the commanding officer for this venture, looked at him as one might regard a whining dog: just a bit of pity, and a little annoyance. Who could blame him? He had to escort somebody that had no idea what to do. Although they all assumed he did.

Stephen stammered out a reply, “N-no. I’m kind of new to this sort of thing.” He felt like a coward every time he opened his mouth around these guys.

“Well, don’t worry. We’re sure you’ll be able to handle it.” Sloan gave Stephen a hearty slap on the back as he chuckled. Stephen tried to find a way to sink further into the metal bench.

“Docking now!” The voice from the front of the craft sounded almost excited. Stephen figured that he must be new to this.

And still infinitely more qualified…

A dull thud rang through the craft as it joined with the Starship Excalibur. A hiss of air and an inrush of an awful scent that Stephen couldn’t quite place followed. Then the doors opened.

Death. Death everywhere. Stephen’s mouth was agape as the scene flooded his vision. Mangled bodies littered the airlock, some jammed into cubbies and some floating idly by. The marines immediately flooded out of the craft, ignoring the bodies as they formed some sort of perimeter. An eternity seemed to pass before Sloan’s face appeared before Stephen, now upgraded from “whining dog” to “why do I have to take care of this idiot?”. Stephen was shaken out of his trance and nervously moved from his place in the shuttle out into the loading bay.

As he stood in the middle of that wide open space, he felt a presence viewing him from somewhere. He looked around but barely scanned a single wall before a scream broke the silence. He whipped his head around and barely caught a glimpse of a creature dragging a marine away, blood trailing behind. Even as he tried to catch up to the sight, another scream came from behind him. Then another, then another.

Stephen realized very quickly that he was alone. Then a hulking… thing… appeared before him.

“Thkj su jhi mrrrn?” The alien seemed to want to communicate. Stephen thought for a moment about what to say, but was distracted slightly by all the blood. Finally, he found his tongue.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here.”

The alien looked him up and down, turning to another alien and gesturing emphatically. Stephen was too busy staring at a floating hand to see the huge alien open it’s maws and swallow him whole.

The young rookie barely had time to break his shuttle away from the ship and high-tail it to the nearest military station. As it was a long flight, he looked down at the latest Astrology piece in the paper, and something near the bottom caught his eye.

Astrology Readings by Stephen Rook

Today was the day the Steve was going to die.

He had determined it a long time ago. Now, with traffic whizzing by under his feet, it felt final. He climbed over the guide rail and thought of how he had gotten to his point. Lost his job. Lost his house. Mother dead from cancer. Father died in a car crash. Everything he had known that was good had left him behind, a bitter and broken man. He closed his eyes and counted down from three.

Three…

Two…

“What are you doing?”

Steve lurched forward in fright, barely catching the rail in time. He looked left and right, and finally behind him. He saw a woman on the opposite side of the bridge, looking back at him with an incredulous expression. He noticed she was on the wrong side of her railing as well.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Steve, baffled at the chance meeting.

“I’m going to jump,” said the woman, “as I have nothing left to live for.”

Steve shook his head, giving the cars below a glance before he turned back to her. “I’m sure that’s not true. Pretty girl like yourself, I’m sure there’s plenty you could still do.”

The woman laughed bitterly, looking over her side for a short while. Steve thought she may be preparing to jump before she turned quickly and screamed, “Fuck you!” with surprising anger.

“What do you know about my life,” the woman said, “besides the fact that I’m here on this bridge? I’m in this shithole of a city, spending every night in that nightmare of a home, worried that I’ll say the wrong thing and set him off! I can’t live like this any more!”

Steve was taken aback. What had he done, besides trying to help? He turned back to her.

“Well you could leave. The world is your oyster, ya know?”

The woman put her face in her free hand, annoyed that this wasn’t as easy as she had hoped it would be. She turned and said, “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Look, what’s your name?”

“Cheryl.”

“Look Cheryl, you can just go home, pack your bags, and leave on the next train up north. I’m jealous, at least you can run.”

Cheryl gazed longingly at the road beneath her, thinking of all the ways life had let her down. Finally she turned back to look at Steve, who was looking down at the road as well.

“Why can’t you run?” Cheryl said, mentally going through what she would have to pack, when her boyfriend would be at work, where she would go.

“In one word, money,” replied Steve. “I’m out of a job. My house was foreclosed. There’s no one to take me in, nobody to help me.’

“Family?” Cheryl asked.

“Not anymore.” replied Steve.

They both were silent for a time. Steve was in a position to see the faces in the cars, looking up with morbid fascination. Over the hills he could see red and blue lights flashing. The cops were coming to stop traffic. To try and talk him down.

He bowed his head and started praying.

“Most Sacred of Jesus, I accept from Your hands whatever kind of death it may please You to send me this day…”

“Shut up, shut up!” Cheryl couldn’t stand it. “Are you missing the point? You’re meant to allow God to determine your cause of death!”

“Cheryl, I’m choosing to jump. God determined where the ground is.”

“That is such a load of shit!” Cheryl spat, infuriated.

“Excuse me?”

“Corinthians paragraph 3, verse 16: Know you not that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is Holy, which temple you are.”

Steve sighed. He had read the verse, as he’d read all the others. He thought of his Bible, sitting on the bedside table. Surely God would allow him this one decision.

“And that excuses you, how?” Steve spat back. “Stop trying to save me.”

“Maybe we can run together.” Cheryl’s reply surprised Steve. The lights were coming over the nearest hill now. Steve watched as the cop cars started to divert traffic. As he watched the traffic jam start to form, he turned and said, “If I leave this bridge, will you?

Cheryl turned and locked eyes with her unfortunate friend. She nodded. Steve sighed, resigned to living. He started to climb back over the railing, when a gust of wind hit him. Cheryl called out as he slipped, barely catching a girder of the bridge. She quickly climbed over her railing and darted to the other side of the bridge. As she crossed the street she bumped into a police officer, who grabbed her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned. She shook free and ran to peer over the railing.

There was Steve, dangling by one hand over the freeway. “Hang on!” she shouted as the policeman joined her at the edge.

“Cheryl,” Steve said as he alternated looking down at his death and up at his salvation.

“I’m here, Steve,” she called back, holding back tears. Even if she barely knew this man, she wanted him to survive. She wanted him to have hope.

“Cheryl, I want you to go home and pack your bags and run. Promise me.”

Cheryl shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t do it alone.”

Steve looked at her and tried to smile. “Look, Cheryl, it’ll be alright. Just keep the faith, alright?” He struggled to maintain his grip, but it was slipping fast. He felt his fingers falter, one by one. “Promise me!” he shouted with more emotion than he’d felt in a long time.

Cheryl wiped back the tears and nodded. Then she watched as Steve fell. “Steve!” she shouted. She tried in vain to climb over and go after him, as though he had fallen into water and she were the lifeguard, but the policeman got a good grip around her waist and forced her away, back to the cruiser. She gave no resistance as she was put in the back of the car, and cried all of the way to the station.

---

Once released, Cheryl sprinted from the police station to the hospital with only one thing one her mind. As she entered the ER and frantically asked the nurse for Steve’s room, the only thought in her mind was one of hope. She entered his room. Machines beeped and Steve lay unconscious in the bed. There was a cast around both his legs, and bandage on his head. She sat in the chair beside the bed, placing her hand beside his.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Cheryl sobbed quietly as she thought of the remaining words. Though her boyfriend had long ago burned her bible, calling it silly nonsense, she had continued going to church to keep her faith. As she thought of the remaining words, she realized that his hand had found it way into hers and gripped it with the strongest force it could muster.

As the tears rolled down Cheryl’s cheeks, Steve turned his head to face her. He smiled and finished.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Steve laid his head back and closed his eyes.

“Thank you Cheryl.”

“Thank you Steve.”

I awoke from a crazy night.

The only things I could recall came as flashes, like lights briefly turned on and back off again. A face, dancing, sex. A few too many shots, a few too many neat whiskeys. The only solid thought in my mind, aside from the pulsing in my brain, was the thought that last night had been special.

As I pushed myself up and out of the bed, I looked back. And there she was.

From her auburn hair to her delicate face, every feature was exquisite. I leaned down and brushed her shoulder. She stirred but did not wake. I shrugged and moved to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast.

As the bacon sizzled in the pan and the eggs sat on a plate, she stumbled into the kitchen, leaning against a wall and looking only at the floor. I approached her, smiling. “Good morning sleepyhead,” I heard myself say. She looked up slowly, then began to dissolve before my eyes.

I reached out a hand, but could not reach her. I felt the floor move under my feet, and my last thought before I hit the ground was one of confusion.

---

In a cold sweat I awoke, clutching the blanket. No hangover. No memories. Just the beautiful face that I wished so bad was real. As I dressed and headed out the door, I thought of her smile. All it brought me was sadness.

Riding the train was uneventful. I browsed news on my phone, intent at ignoring the world around me. It seemed the world would not allow that, when I heard a soft voice repeat, “Excuse me?”

I looked up and nearly dropped my phone. For there, standing before me was the girl of my dreams. Seemingly ignorant of my facial expression, her kind eyes seemed to ask the next question.

“Is that seat taken?”

I shook my head and scooted, making room for her. I glanced her way occasionally as she pulled out a book and started to read. I tried to gather the words, when all too soon the voice rang out.

“Spring Hill Station.”

And then she was gone.

Matt pulled up to the last house on the block. It was a nice, well-care-for two story cookie cutter home, just like the last fifty. But his true prize sat in front of the house. For there, stacked upon tables and tables were all the things those homeowners didn’t want. He parked his car on the street and walked his way through the garage sale.

After about twenty minutes, in which time he managed to pick up a lamp, he spotted a neat pair of glasses on the table. They were both retro and modern at the same time, almost like something the Men in Black would wear. He picked them up and tried them on and found they fit perfectly. As he looked around though, he noticed something odd. Everybody had a slightly different look to them. They didn’t look any different, yet their body language seemed to change as he lowered the glasses and raised them back up.

The mother, watching over the garage sale with her cash box, seemed to shine. Everything about her exuded goodness, kindness. Motherly intent. The man riffling through the old vinyl records had an air of cynicism. He almost looked like he was preparing to take the records and run. And so it was for everybody there. He took the glasses off, certain that this was the one thing he wanted to buy. He left the lamp on the table, took the glasses to the mother and bought them for $2. Her smile seemed more real somehow as she waved goodbye.

Back in his car, he drove back home without incident. His kids greeted him at the door as he shared the spoils. Sally got a baseball bat. Krystyn received a small doll. He placed the vase he had found earlier beneath the mirror in the entryway, and went to find his wife. As he crossed the living room to the kitchen, he put the glasses on, eager to show his wife. Entering the kitchen, however, he froze.

For there before him was the most vile, repulsive aura he had seen that day. Kneading dough for tonight’s bread, her every motion seemed to communicate anger. Her cheeks seemed gaunt, her kneading resembling the act of strangling a man. Horrified, he removed the glasses, and cleared his throat. His wife turned, suddenly the person he had always known.

“Hey sweetie, how was the yard sale?” Matt tried to ignore the sight he had just seen and went to embrace his wife as she continued kneading. “Just fine, dear. I got a vase for those flowers; it’s in the entryway.”

He felt the grin even if he couldn’t see it. “Excellent, I’ll get those all situated once I’m done here. Matt kissed her cheek and went to their room. He pulled the glasses out of his pocket and placed them on the top shelf in the closet. He tried to reason through what he’d seen, wondering what it meant.

He thought of his relationship with his wife. Every fight, every argument. Their differences, their hopes and dreams that didn’t match up. On a whim he retrieved the glasses from the shelf, placing them on his face and looking in the mirror. And there, staring back at him, was another sinister character, the mirror image of his wife. He then realized that the appearance of each person wasn’t an overall rating of good or evil.

It was a measure of how good they were in the place they currently stood.

All Jack could think of as the drone of the engines drowned out all else, was that even the fields here looked different. Against his memories of the straight, even lines of corn and grain flowing endlessly hill over hill, the shapes made by the rice paddies looked almost alien. These people were different, that’s all he needed to know.

As the drop approached, closer and closer, Jack found himself closing his eyes and clutching the cross around his neck. He thought of Shirley, his beautiful wife and the little bundle of joy that was due any day now. He closed his eyes and prayed for the chance to see his child graduate, meet somebody, and make a family of their own. He thought for a moment of all the times he would have with his child, just as his father had done. He could remember those days like they were yesterday: his father holding him on his knees, then tossing him into the air. Jack remembered his mother saying that he belonged in the air, flying as high as he wished. Indeed, he remembered sometimes wishing he didn’t have to come down.

As his thoughts returned to the present, Jack thought of the present. He opened his eyes and scanned the plane. Everybody was quiet, absorbed in their own pre-game routine. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the metal of the plane, intent on enjoying what his flight instructors insisted could be his last moments of peace.

Sargent Rikers, you asshole.

Suddenly the light flashed red as the rear door opened, all too soon. Jack stretched, intent on enjoying it until he heard the sounds. It was like fireworks in the distance, only too loud. He snapped awake and got into the line. Rikers stood at the door, screaming something. As Jack stood there, he could barely make out the words.

“Jump! Jump! Jump!”

Jack knew what they meant now, about not understanding what it was like to jump out of a plane for real. He adjusted his pack, went to the door, and with a firm push from Rikers he was out.

As Jack focused on the spot of ground designated as the landing area, he felt more than heard the hit. He tried to crane his head and get a look but was unable to. He feared the worst for his crew, but only had time for the mission.

Jack felt the air whipping past his face until he reached the point where he was meant to deploy his chute. It worked, just as it had worked in training, and he thanked God for that. That thanks turned to pleas and questions within moments, however, as he noticed the debris falling around him. He tried to crane his head and barely got a glimpse of the plane, falling faster than he was.

His head snapped forward as he shut his eyes, thinking of the men he had come to befriend in training. Stephens, with his two kids back home and a math class waiting for their teacher to return. Jacobs, with the young girl he had met days before leaving for war, barely married for three weeks. He agonized over the images of their families, receiving the worst news.

But the grieving could come later. As the ground swiftly approached, Jack could only think of his mission. As he hit the ground he made sure to bend his knees slightly, then threw his weight to his right, tucking into a roll to absorb any extra momentum. Rikers would have been proud. As he cut his schute free he brought up his weapon, surveying the surrounding. Jacobs had landed nearby, and he could see somebody waving over the next hill. As he rushed to meet his fellow troops and regroup, he felt a soft click under his feet. He barely had time to register it before the ground came up to meet him.