Chapter Four

Joseph Rosen, Des Moines, Iowa October 17, 9:15pm


Constable Ed Wright had been sitting in his car for over three hours. For the last twenty minutes of this, he had been watching Joseph Rosen yell at a tree. Deciding he needed a walk anyway, Ed got out of the car and made his way over to the old man. The guy was harmless enough, but he’d chosen the park in front of the Renaissance Savery for his nightly rant. The victim tree was far enough from the entrance that the hotel hadn’t called it in yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

“Screw you!” Rosen screamed at the tree. Ed strode to within a few yards, then pulled his flashlight.

“That tree done something to you, Mr. Rosen ?” Ed asked.

“Bastard…” Rosen said, spitting at the tree.

The flashlight allowed Ed to make out Rosen’s features. He’d dealt with the man a number of times since starting on the force three years ago, but didn’t know much about him. He did know that the man drank to excess, and occasionally kept the police busy, but never worried,. It usually took only a few words and a ride home to calm him down.
Looking at him now, though, Ed could see that tonight was different. Despite the cursing and the spitting, Rosen wasn’t angry. He was crying. In the halo of the flashlight, Ed could see a steady stream of tears flowing down the old man’s face. His eyes, tired and red, made no attempt to conceal whatever pain it was that haunted him. The old guy didn’t even squint against the glare of the flashlight. He just stared back, making no attempt to disguise his sorrow as anything other than what it was: absolute despair.

“I can’t do it.” Rosen said to the tree.

“Mr. Rosen …” Ed said sternly.

“FINE!” Rosen shouted at the tree. Then, without warning, he spoke again, this time directly to Ed. His voice was controlled, but still pained.

“I understand why you’re here, officer.” Rosen said contritely. “I’m… disturbing the peace.” A sardonic smile touched the edge of his lips. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink and it’s gotten the better of me.” he said, emphasizing the point by producing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from his coat pocket.

“I’ll walk it off. I’ll be OK, honest.” Rosen said, his voice getting stronger as he spoke. He was almost believable. “I’m done for the night. Honest. I’ll walk it off and be fine by the time I get home.” As proof, Rosen plunged the bottle into one of the municipal garbage cans that ringed the park.

Ed could see that the man was trying to avoid police intervention, and, as long as he wasn’t a threat to anyone, the constable was happy to oblige.

“You go straight home.” Ed said harshly. “If I see you again this evening, I’ll be taking you in.”

The words were straight out of the police handbook.

“Thank you officer.” Rosen said, retreating quickly across the pavement to avoid any second thoughts Ed might have.

The policeman watched as Rosen made a beeline through the park, coming out on Third Street. A minute later, Rosen made a right onto Locust Street and was gone. Ed went back to his car, content that whatever the old man’s problem was, he wouldn’t have to worry about it again.

*****

“Locust Street!” Rosen shouted when the cop was out of sight. “You’ve got the nerve to lead me to Locust Street.” Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, but slower now. “I suppose I should be thankful we don’t have a Kill All Of Humanity Boulevard.”
The patrons coming out of the Civic Center cut Rosen a wide berth.

“You decided to go left on Third.” Idris replied calmly. “Had you gone right, we would be on Walnut Street. That I know of, there has never been a plague of walnuts.”

Rosen stopped, the fury and pain returning to his face. “This can’t happen. You know that, right? This can’t happen...” His hands were shaking uncontrollably now. He drew a deep, sharp breath in an attempt to stop himself from breaking down again.

“It can and is happening, Joseph.” Idris continued. “And you have a rather important role to play in it all.”

“No… I don’t. You can quit saying that right now, because I can’t and I won’t.”
“You can and you will.” Idris replied.

“You have no idea what I am going to do!” Rosen shouted, though his defiance rang hollow. Despite his bravado, Rosen was acutely aware that he had a long track record of being on the wrong side of every argument he and Idris had ever had.

“You need coffee.” Idris said.

Rosen stared at him, his eyes still red and sore.

Idris sighed.

“There is a plan at work, Joseph.” he said kindly. “It is not my plan, and it is not your plan, but it is happening. If you are looking to me for comfort or protection from it, you are looking in the wrong place.”

“But… billions.” Rosen said, his voice now pitching higher with the tightness in the back of his throat.

“Billions more have lived and died waiting for this day to arrive. Whether people live or die in the next few days will matter far less than what they, or you, do in that time.”

“I think you’re right.” Rosen said flatly.

“This is not about my being right or wrong. “ Idris explained. “It merely is. It is His will at work in the world.”

“No… not about that.” Rosen explained, swallowing hard. “That is just bloody insane. You’re right about the coffee. I really need a coffee.” .

“Village Bean or Grounds For?” Idris asked.

“Which is closer?”

“Village Bean, but only by half a block.”

“Village Bean. Which way?”

“About a half mile east, across the bridge.” Idris replied.

Rosen pulled the collar of his jacket over his ears and started walking.

“I hate that bridge.” he said.

“I know.” Idris replied.

“We’re not done with this.” Rosen said.

“I know.”

“And stop calling me Joseph.”

“No.” Idris replied.

*****

It was nearing midnight when they finally got to the door of the café. It would be open for another hour, though the band had already left with most of the patrons. The waitress hurried back to the till from her mopping duties as Rosen reached the counter.

“What can I get you, and I hope it’s not food.” she asked.

“What?” Rosen said.

“It’s late, and that means the last load of dishes is done and most of the food is put away, so if you’re ordering anything other than a cookie I was going say you that you should go somewhere else.” she said.

“I only want a coffee. Large, black.” Rosen replied, spilling change onto the counter.

“Coffee we’ve got.” she said, looking at Rosen, then the coins. “Tell ya what… if you promise to let me get out of here by 1:00, the coffee is on the house. It’s going to get tossed soon anyway.”

“Fine.” Rosen said curtly. He had little regard for teenagers, and even less regard for being treated like a hobo. Still, a free coffee was a free coffee. He fumbled the change back into his pocket, ignoring the cheery smile she offered. Idris watched, silent and invisible.

Over the years Rosen and Idris had developed a rapport in public. Save for the few times when Rosen was too drunk to care, the two would coexist with little if any verbal communication when people were around. The tact was not infallible and, as a result, Rosen had earned himself the reputation of being a miserable old coot that talked to himself. Tonight, however, was less of a problem. The last of the customers left just as they were finding their seats.

“That was rude.” Idris said when they’d settled in.

“I agree. If she hadn’t given me a free coffee I’d have called her on it.”

“You were rude.” Idris said simply.

“Yeah well, it doesn’t matter much when we’re all going to be dead in a couple days, does it?” Rosen said coldly.

“I’d say it matters more.” Idris countered.

“I’d say you had no clue what the hell you’re talking about. Here’s what I don’t get…”

Rosen said, changing the subject. “Pretend you’re all powerful.”

“I am me.” Idris said. Rosen glowered, then continued.

“Ok, pretend you are all-powerful and you’re actually God. You could cure cancer, stop crime, save small furry animals. That sort of thing. But, instead of doing anything to make this hellhole of a planet a better place to be, you decide to slaughter the vast majority of the poor jerks who are just trying to scrape out a life for themselves. Explain to me how this is a divine plan.”

“I think you just answered your own question. It’s a divine plan. Not to be understood by mortals.”

“None of it makes sense!” Rosen shouted, then dropped his voice again. “Remaking the planet is not something an omnipotent God would need to do. That’s how a second grader would do it… just rip up the page and throw it out. Start all over again, ignoring the billions who suffered, died, and are likely to roast in some hell for all eternity because of His bad work. There’s got to be a better way to do things.” Rosen said. The warmth and coffee was doing wonders to help his nerves, but the topic was still emotional.

“There may be another way, but it would not be His way.” Idris explained.

“Then His way is wrong.” Rosen said firmly.

“You don’t even know what His way is. There’s a lot more to it than you understand.”

“Then you damn well better make me understand, because until you do there is no way I am having anything to do with this.”

“I can tell you this much… your part in all this is preordained. I’m just humoring you.” Idris replied.

It was only the memory of his previous attempts that kept Rosen’s fist from swinging.

“You have a package to deliver. It is as simple as that.” Idris tried.

“Except for the part where I die a horrible death as soon as it’s delivered.” Rosen said, the words spitting out of his mouth.

“All this compassion for the state of the world goes out the window when you’re concerned with your own death. That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“If you’re saying that I’m a self-centered asshole, then OK we agree. But the truth is, this even goes beyond my ability to be self-absorbed. We’re talking about the slaughter of billions of human lives, and you’re asking me to be the harbinger of it. I… I can’t do it, Idris. I really can’t.”

“I am not here to force you to do anything.” Idris said. “The truth is, I don’t need to. There’s a reason that you were chosen.”

“Because I’m a miserable bastard?”

“Exactly.” Idris said, laughing. “But I know you better than you know yourself. You’re going to do the right thing. You just need help.”

“Not this time.” Rosen said. “You can talk all you want, but none of it changes the basic fact that I am not prepared to help you slaught—.”

He stopped.

Yet again, Rosen had let the conversation get the better of him. Standing just behind Idris was the waitress. Her face had the familiar look that waitresses and bartenders always have when they realize that the old guy in the corner is talking to himself. When they’d entered the café Rosen took her for the type that might ask him to leave before calling the police. It was time to see if he had been right.

“I’m so sorry.” she said suddenly.

It was a reaction Rosen had never seen before.

“Sorry?” he asked, waiting for the inevitable.

“I…I just heard you talking and I thought… Well, since there was no one else here I assumed you were talking to me so I came over …
”
“It was just me.” Rosen said. “I talk to myself sometimes when I’m tired. It won’t happen again.”

“I just… I... I’m sorry.” was all she could muster. Rosen was getting confused. She didn’t seem frightened by him, but she didn’t seem to be calmed by his excuses either.

“Listen, it’s late.” he said. “ I’m going to head out and let you close up.”

Rosen started to stand, but the girl shrieked as he did. He fell back at the sound of it, his butt hitting the chair hard.

“I’m sorry.” she said again, the words coming out faster now.

“Sorry for what…?” Rosen asked, an annoyance creeping into his voice. He didn’t mind being thrown out, but if this woman kept shrieking like this the police would be here whether she called them or not.

She backed up to the next table, her lips still mouthing the words I’m sorry over and over.

“What the hell..?” Rosen asked, more to himself than her.

The thought of just bolting out the door was appealing, but her position at the next table put her directly between him and the front door. He couldn’t leave without moving straight toward her, and the girl looked like she’d scream blue bloody murder if he tried. Rosen stayed seated, wide-eyed and utterly at a loss. Dumbly, he looked to Idris for a cue.

“Did I forget to mention that she can see me?” Idris said calmly.

Rosen was not used to moments of clarity, but this was one of them. He had grown accustomed to the preternatural glow that surrounded Idris. He’d learned years ago to ignore the weird stillness of his form and the faint gold that shone from his eyes. Even the bits of light that darted about the room occasionally had become mere annoyances. It was all just ‘Idris’, the bane of his existence. But seeing it all reflected in the eyes of this young girl reminded him how frightening a visage Idris could be— how absolutely unprepared the average human was for the intrusion of a divine being into their night shift at a coffee shop. The girl was absolutely terrified.

“Oh for Christ’s sake...” Rosen said, leaping from his chair. The girl yelped, but he ignored it. Instinctively, he placed himself between Idris and the girl, blocking most of her view of him.

“It’s alright…” Rosen said, trying to get her attention back from the sight behind him. “It’s OK. Honest it’s OK.”

“I should… I should be….” she stammered.

Rosen suspected she was slipping into shock.

“Listen to me.” Rosen shouted. Her eyes darted to him briefly, then back at Idris. Rosen moved closer, blocking more of her view and seizing her shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“…Ellen.”

Her eyes were impossibly wide.

“Look, Ellen, I promise you there’s nothing to be afraid of. Trust me. If there were, I’d be the first guy out the door.”

She was biting her bottom lip now. There were no tears, but Rosen was unsure if this was a good sign or a bad sign.

“It’s…”

“He’s real, but he’s not a threat.” Rosen assured her. The thought of police coming in at exactly this second seemed all too real in his mind.

“Is it… friendly?” the girl asked.

There were a lot of things Rosen might have expected her to say, but that wasn’t one of them. She’d sounded like a small child asking about a strange dog. He found himself searching for the most comforting answer he could find. Eventually, though, his nature won out.

“Actually, he’s kind of an asshole.” Rosen said.

Idris stood, his form filling the back wall of the café. Turning toward the two mortals, he dwarfed Rosen’s attempt to block Ellen’s view. She could only stare as Rosen let go of her arms to confront the angel. It was Idris that spoke next.

“And you have all the couth of a pack of wild boars.” he said. “This is how you run to the girl’s rescue?”

“She wouldn’t need rescuing if you hadn’t decided to scare the hell out of her.” Rosen shouted. “As a matter of fact, why the hell is it my responsibility to calm her down? You’re the angel, you do it.” he said, storming back to his seat.

Ellen watched, confused.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Ellen Derst.” Idris said. “I am Idris. You are seeing me now so that I can assist you in the events that are about to unfold.”

“Events…” Ellen repeated. Her face was still pale, but there was a wonder creeping in, replacing the fear.

“Much is going to happen in the next few weeks that will change the world forever. You are a part of that change.” Idris said.

“You sure you have the right person?” Ellen asked meekly. “I’m not the world-changing type.”

“The world will change with or without you. It is your role in it that I am concerned with.” Idris said.

“I... don’t think there’s much I can do.” she said. “I mean, I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“More coffee.” Rosen said from the corner.

“Oh… yes.” the girl said quickly. Before Idris could respond, she bolted to the front of the shop, frantically preparing a new pot. Rosen watched, bemused.

“Hey… not bad. Not bad at all.” Rosen said. “I could get used to this..”

“Enjoy it while you can, Joseph. She is going to learn quickly.” Idris replied.

*****
Rosen was in agony.

Ellen had locked the shop at 1:00, but the three stayed to the wee hours of the morning. Despite Rosen’s best efforts, Ellen’s initial fear of Idris had morphed into an awe of all things angelic. It was a quality that Rosen lacked entirely. After several hours of listening to it, he had taken to sulking in the corner, ignoring them both.

“OK, cool.” she continued, moving directly to yet another question. “So, what about the way you look. I mean, you sound normal enough and all but you’re all frozen and stuff.”

“You are seeing only a shadow of my true self. I act in many worlds at once, but the fullness of it is more than humans can comprehend.”

“So, you’re like a pause button on a DVD when you want to stop it and see what’s going on because there’s too much happening.” Ellen said.

Idris smiled.

“So, what about clothes and stuff? Do you change or are they, like, a uniform or something?”

“Like all else, my clothes are a representation of a reality, not the reality itself.”

“So, no to clothes. What about music? Do angels just play harps or do you listen to real music?”

“Some angels play harps, though not many and only on Earth. Celestial music is a different thing.”

“Oh.” she said. “So, what about food? Do angels eat?”

It was at this point that Rosen snapped.

“Idris, you’re right.” he shouted from his corner. “I’ve changed my mind. I am now ready to accept whatever gruesome death you have planned for me. Just please… make her stop!”

Ellen looked at Rosen, then back at Idris. “Do you have to eat special angel food or just human food?” she asked.

Rosen screamed.

“This is insane.” Rosen pleaded. “The world is about to go to hell in a hand-basket and you two are sitting there talking about angel fashion accessories. Idris, come on. Seriously. This is not appropriate.”

“It’s not only appropriate, Joseph, it is vitally important that Ellen be allowed to know all that her mind can think to ask. As this world ends. her knowledge is going to become vital for those that survive.”

The words Idris had chosen, ‘first death’, cut through Rosen like a knife. All of what the angel had revealed to him of humanity’s fate came flooding back, the madness of it overwhelming him again.

“Do you have a penis?” Ellen asked coyly.

Despite the crushing darkness that was claiming him, Rosen discovered that his mind refused to ignore Idris’ answer.

*****

The questions continued for hours. In time, Idris managed to steer her to more pertinent questions regarding the ensuing apocalypse and the prophesies concerning it. Even this failed to engage Rosen, couched as it was in the teenager’s world view.

“So there aren’t any real horses?” Ellen asked.

“John did his best to write down everything he was shown, but much of it was beyond his comprehension. He saw beings like myself moving through the sky. Just as you see my clothes as your mind wishes to perceive them, John saw horses.” Idris replied.

“Oh.” she said, frowning “..’Cause that was kinda one part of this that sounded cool. You know—giant horses flying through the air. Woulda been cool.”

“No horses.” Idris repeated. “In fact, most humans will see nothing at all. Only the effect of the angel’s hand. It has been so since the beginning, the work of angels ascribed to natural phenomena.”

“What does ‘ascribed’ mean again?” Ellen asked.

Somewhere across the café, Rosen groaned.

“It means that for the most. part, people do not want to see miracles, so they don’t. As it was when we entered the café. I stood right before you and you saw nothing until I wished you to.”

“So, you were here before? How many times?” Ellen asked

“Only once, when I entered with Joseph.” Idris explained.

“But I saw you.” she said.

“You did not see me when we entered, or when Joseph ordered his coffee.”

“That’s because you weren’t here then.” Ellen said, confused.

“I was here. But your eyes were not yet ready to—“

“That’s it. I am going home.” Rosen declared, crawling up from the booth he’d been lying in. “You two go ahead and gleefully discuss the destruction of humanity. I’m done.”

He was almost to the door before Idris appeared there, blocking his way. Ellen remained at the table, staring at the empty space where the angel had been a second earlier.

“It’s me that has to leave, Joseph. There is much I must attend to in these days. This girl is your charge now. You are to be her shield in the days to come.”

“Fat chance.” Rosen replied. “If the world is going to die, I am not spending my last week tending to an annoying teenager with the IQ of a common houseplant. Besides, I apparently have a package to deliver, remember?”

“She is part of what you are to do.” Idris explained.

“Great. We can make a game out of figuring out which of us is going to die first.” Rosen said, making to leave.

“It will be you.” Idris said simply.

Rosen scowled and made an attempt to push past Idris. After several very determined attempts it became obvious that the angel was not going to cede. Rosen resorted to a verbal attack.

“I’ve spent 30 years doing exactly what you wanted, and it’s cost me my whole damned life. Now, at the end, you want to add this extra special bit of agony?” Rosen said, pointing toward Ellen. “For what? So I can keep her alive long enough for her to die the way you want her to die? Forget it Idris. I said before that I am not going to be a part of this and I won’t. Find some other minion.”

“She is never going to die.” Idris explained.

Rosen turned to look at the girl. She was adjusting the dials on her IPod, the earphones blasting music that Rosen was sure he’d hate. The presence of the angel seemed all but forgotten.

“This is the future of humanity?” Rosen asked dryly.

“She gets better.” Idris said.

Rosen slumped into the closest chair. Putting his head in his hands, he sighed.

“You couldn’t have done all this fifteen years ago when I was still young enough to get through it?”

“You’ll get through it.” the angel countered.

“No… no I won’t.” Rosen said, a sad laughter following his words.

Idris was silent.

“Just tell me this much… how long do we have before all this starts? How long before this first death hits and it all goes to hell?”

“It began four hours ago.” Idris replied.

Rosen sat silent. He was waiting for the tears or anger to resurface, but they didn't come. Instead, there was only a composed quietness inside him— a certitude that only comes from an awareness of the inevitable. This, he imagined, was how men on death row felt. He looked up, his eyes clear.

“You could have told me all this last year before I quit smoking.” he said.