The Reedemer

"Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind."

Nathaniel Hawthorne

~

"He who is outside his front door has the hardest part of his journey behind him."

Dutch Proverb

Chapter 4 The Cowboy

The Cowboy pulled his knife from the black robes covering the body lying on the ground below. Moving each side of the blade sidelong against the pantleg of his jeans he wiped the blood from the carbon steel. Looking at the reddish-brown stain above his thigh he thought, so it's time. Moving his gaze to the Wyoming sky beyond the grass fields that stretched off in the distance, he resigned himself to what was coming. The prophecy was beginning. With his dark eyes, he traced the shapes of the red clouds floating above the mountains lining the horizon and tried to ignore the knot growing in his stomach. Leaving the body behind, he moved his legs toward the back door of the barn.

Stepping inside the familiar structure he filled his lungs with the smell of oats and hay. He stopped his feet from walking and listened to the sounds of the barn. The horses milling around. The pigs rutting. The atmosphere swallowed him, and he resided in it for a minute before continuing to the back wall where shelves held tools and supplies to get what he came for. A moment later he returned to the body with a metal can marked by the word gasoline written in faded yellow letters that went up the dented sides of the can between two yellow lines at an angle.

Turning the can upside down he poured the clear liquid onto the black robes covering the body. The young man underneath the robes was a follower of the necromancer goddess Hecate. The act he was about to perform was one of caution. He didn't want any surprises from a corpse while he prepared to begin his journey. Lighting a match on the threads of his jean jacket, he let it fall, burning down to the gasoline-soaked robes, and stepped back. Orange flames shot up into the sky enveloping the body as they rose.

Walking away from the burning body to the old ranch house that had been his home for the last thirty years, the Cowboy gave a silent goodbye to a life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Inside the old house, he went through the rooms, gathering the things he would need and placing them into two black duffel bags. Books, weapons, a few clothes, and a faded picture of a woman who had never been on the Earth.

Leaving the house he walked across the dust-covered yard to his 1968 Ford F150 sitting parked on the gravel drive that ran beside the painted white fence lining the front yard. Reaching the side of the truck he threw the few belongings he was bringing with him into the bed. Opening the driver's door, he reached in and turned the key to let the old Ford's engine warm up.

Then he made his way back to the barn. Stall by stall he opened the doors and shooed the horses outside. He left the pigs and goats in their pins with the doors unlatched knowing they would come out in their own time. Leaving the barn, he felt a sense of loss passing its threshold for what he knew was the last time.

On his way back to the Ford he stopped and took a last look over the fields stretching beyond the house. The horses were just making their way down into the tall grass. Letting his eyes wander a little further. He followed the sea of green blades swaying in the wind across the flat plains until they met the tall shadows of the Bighorn Mountains rising in the distance. Lifting his gaze above the mountain peaks he felt the desperation of the burnt orange sky. Felt the loss Mother Nature carried for the birds that used to fly there.

His thoughts drifted back to the innocent days when white clouds had floated across a canvas of blue in that same sky. Back before the dark magic had come. Before the chemicals from the Global Wars had polluted the air. Before the balance that held all things had been broken.

A tired feeling settled down as he felt the age of his years. This battle he would now face was a long time in coming. Maybe too long. Doubt entered his mind. Was he still strong enough? Letting out a deep exhale he resigned himself again to the fact of what was coming. Watching the horses slowly dip their heads to take mouthfuls of grass, he hoped he would see this land one more time before he finally went home. The thought of leaving and not seeing his Wyoming ranch again was like a rock weighing him down below the surface of an ocean filled with regret. Turning, he called for the descendant of the three-headed monster Cerberus.

"Cash, here boy." The black German Shepherd appeared from around the corner of the house. He watched his beloved dog, who would be his companion on this journey, as he approached. He noticed the way he always did how the long snout, the sleekness, and the elegance of the tall body, made Cash look more like a wolf than a dog. When Cash made it to him the Cowboy took a long look at the thick black winter coat the dog still hadn't shed as Cash sat obediently on his rear haunches in front of him. Petting the top of Cash's head in between his ears he gave him a good boy before he began to make his way back to the truck. Cash got up without command moving obligingly to trot at his side.

Opening the door to the old Ford the Cowboy let Cash climb inside and then watched as the large dog walked across the bench seat to the passenger side. When Cash had settled on the seat he put one boot-covered foot on the floorboard, lifted himself into the cab, and closed the steal door of the truck. Then without turning to meet Cash's dark eyes, he said.

"Come on, boy let's go fight one last time." Moving the gear selector on the steering column to drive he pressed down on the gas. Dust clouds followed the Ford as it drove away down the two-rut road leading from the ranch.

~

Lizzy stepped from the diner feeling a strong urge to find the nearest hotel rent a room, throw the shower on, step in clothes and all, and stay under the water until she washed the feeling of Smith off of her. The man, if that's what he was and not some kind of weird space alien, made her skin crawl. She was certain Smith had skeletons in his closet that were far worse than any of the skeletons the special abilities she had locked away in her career had in their closets.

Crossing the parking lot, going as fast as she dared, she did not want to appear desperate to his eyes, which she knew were on her, and at the same time, she didn't want to be there a second longer than she had to be. Lizzy debated her pace with each step she took. Before finally, mercifully reaching the Impala. Without taking another look back at Smith or the diner she threw open the driver's door and practically threw herself inside.

She didn't start to feel like herself again until she was miles down the road. Reaching into her purse she pulled out the throw-away phone she'd bought days before, watched the screen come to life, and finally pressed the numbers displayed inside small circles that would allow her to call the number Charles had given her in the park. Then she moved the phone to her ear and listened. After only half a ring a rough feminine voice greeted her from the other side.

"It's about time you called, Lizzy." Lizzy almost lost her grip on the phone.

"You know who I am?"

"Dear, I know everything, I'm a watcher." Lizzy felt little bumps crawl along her skin. Swallowing against the catch in her throat she told herself to get past her fears. Keeping watchers at arm's length wasn't going to work anymore. "Relax, Honey. I know we make you nervous. But, you're gonna have to get over that if you want to make it through this. There's so much happening that you don't know. That Charles doesn't know. I know he's warned you about Smith, but Smith is merely the beginning."

The woman's voice went silent then as if she were giving Lizzy a minute to process her words. Waiting for the woman to talk again, Lizzy felt her throat tighten around an invisible spike. I hope this isn't a mistake, she thought.

"I know this won't be easy for you." the woman continued before abruptly leaving her in silence again. Lizzy wanted to say something, but every time she tried to start her voice wouldn't come.

"We're already running out of time. We need to meet before we get too far behind what is already taking place. I know the voice, you have inside you is telling you to stay away from me. But I'm afraid, I'm going to have to ask you to ignore that voice. You called for a reason. Follow that thought, girl. You don't know me, but I'm the only one who can help you. You may not believe that yet, but I promise you will. There is more happening than you can ever imagine. Don't let your thoughts run away with you. Charles gave you my number for a reason. Trust that he gave it to you because he knew you would need me and agree, now to meet with me." Lizzy was quiet for a long minute before she fumbled out.

"Okay." Her nerves were shaky, and she wanted to take back the word almost as soon as she gave it.

"Good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, we can finally get started. There's a small town named Glen Ellen maybe an hour or two from where you are. Just outside the town is a place called Wolf House which sits at the entrance to Jack London Historic Park. Go there and walk into the ruins of the house." Lizzy started to speak but the familiar sound of the call ending chimed in her ear. Rolling down the window next to her she tossed the phone out into the afternoon air before rolling the window up again. Focusing her eyes back on the road in front of her, she quietly wished Charles was here with her. She could use one of his bits of wisdom right about now.

A spark of worry fluttered to life inside her. Charles had been quiet since their meeting in the park. With everything that was going on it was unlike him not to check in on her.

~

Smith watched from the window when Elizabeth left. She wasn't going to be a quiet one. She was going to keep digging until she uncovered something she shouldn't. That would be just fine, he told himself as he watched her long legs move across the pavement. He would kill her when the time came. He would take his time with her, though. Her death would be one he would enjoy every minute of.

With the way, her auburn hair fell over her elegant shoulders in flowing curls. And the way her green eyes seemed to envelop him every time he looked into them, she was too beautiful to just throw away. Everything about her begged him to have a little fun before letting her go. It had been too long since he had allowed himself to give in to his cravings. And, Elizabeth Holmes was just the kind of special occasion that called for him to reveal who he was for more than just a meal. He would give Elizabeth a good long look at his true form before he spilled her crimson blood over her pale, freckled skin.

Turning from the window, he walked back through the diner looking at everyone and everything with disdain. The day was approaching when he wouldn't have to keep secret what he thought of these bags of flesh. His master was coming. He could feel a glint of his master's delectable power rising from the woods in the North. A smile spread across his thin lips at the thought of the Redeemer meeting the Lord of the Flies for the first time. He too, would be meeting this Redeemer soon. That is, if the hope of all that is light managed to survive his master's greeting.

Leaving through the back door Smith flexed his neck and let his jaws stretch into his Demon teeth. He allowed the smell of sulfur that was always smoldering just beneath his skin to escape his pores. He opened the gates, holding his true self back, and let his hunger flow through him. He relished the thought of the meal awaiting him. Walking into the grass, stretching up to the sky behind the diner as high as his knees he could already smell the boy sitting in his car smoking weed in the stand of trees across the field from him.

~

The rumble of the engine under the hood of the Ford hummed as the miles ticked by. The Cowboy was lost in his thoughts as he drove. His mind was full of questions. How many years had it been since he was needed? How many decades? What lay ahead was more daunting than the great challenges he had overcome when he walked this Earth as a demi-god. The rules were different now. The gods were no longer granted free reign to travel to the mortal world at their whim.

Looking at Cash he wondered if this version of the three-headed monster knew what his purpose was yet. Turning back to look through the windshield again, the sky in front of him carried a longing in its field of red-hued clouds that would turn slowly into purple before he and Cash reached their destination. The next days and coming years would decide so much. If he would survive to see his Wyoming again before he returned to his home on Mount Belus. If the mortal world, along with the Kingdoms of Zion, would triumph over the Realms of Fallen Souls. If he would finally return to the love, he had left so long ago.

Would Hebe still remember him? Would she have waited all this time for his return? How much had he truly sacrificed by coming to save these fragile mortals? But it hadn't just been for them, had it?

If it had only been the fate of the mortals at stake, as much as he loved them, he wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have carried the image of Hebe standing with her hand stretched out toward him beckoning him to stay as he descended through the astral planes, all this time. No, the reason he had left was because the coming war would decide all of the fates.

Hebe's purple eyes appeared in front of him above the red clouds floating on the horizon. He felt her love pour out in waves that washed gently over his worn body. Her ethereal stare penetrated every part of him. Filling him with the knowledge that he was not alone. Hebe was still in their asterial home, waiting for his return. Her strength welled in the center of his chest filling his heart with her. His lips shaped the letters of her name. Her energy came to life inside the old body he wore healing its weathered cells.

Blood pulsed through his veins with renewed resolve to see her again. His black eyes glowed with the memory of his once great strength, reminding him that he was still a God. Even trapped in this mortal husk he was still a God. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. The old engine came a little more alive as he pushed the pedal under his right foot closer to the floorboard.

He was Heracles, the betrayed. Deianira's last act before her suicide. The last to defeat Hades before his coming rise. The centuries may have changed him. May have taken the strength of his youth. But the world still needed saving and the half-mortal just discovering the depth of his power would die without him. There was much he had to teach and much the half-god had to learn before Hades rose as Lucifer, the King of Hell, to the land of the mortals for a final battle with El Elyon, the Alpha and Omega.

He reminded himself that even Gods age. This version of him, this Cowboy, was in the last days of life, and Heracles, the God of strength and heroes would not be allowed to return to Earth again. He had already wasted so much. All the years of nothing happening had helped him grow complacent. All of the Gods had. It had been a mistake for them to sit, not doing anything for these past decades waiting, for Hades to act.

They should have known the King of the Underworld would have spent his time looking for ways to undo the prophecies. Thirty years had passed since the tear in the veil, separating this world from the Kingdoms of Heaven and the Realms of Gehenna, had been ripped. Thirty years since magic had spilled into the home of the mortals. How had he missed the signs? Thirty was a significant number, the age of the Messiah when he proclaimed his birth rite.

The mortals had gotten many truths about the gods and the religions right, but the most important truth they had gotten wrong was that there were not several different stories competing with one another, but one simultaneous tale. The coming war would be between all the versions of Heaven and Hell.

The Book of Revelations was a prophecy of all the gods and all the religions. John foresaw Jesus' return as the Ultimate King to restore his people and usher in a new creation at the end of the last book in the Bible. What the mortals had missed in the lines of scripture was that their fate was not sealed. The outcome had been only one possibility of many. Their fate, along with all the Angels of Jehovah, had always been in jeopardy at the hands of Ilbis.

Letting out an exasperated breath Heracles recited the last lines of the prophecy.

"The coming war may be fought in secret, or it may spill out and consume entire empires. It may flood the land, or it may appear as a single drop of rain. But before it is done fire will break brimstone, plagues will smite all the lands, and death will be a gift against the suffering of life. Heaven will crash, Hell will rise, and what's left after they collide will be that of a wasteland or an eternal paradise. The balance that will decide will rest in the hands of a child born of, god and a mortal."

Heracles drove on no longer thinking of himself as the Cowboy. From here until the end, he would be his true self.