A Sentinel Christmas Carol

Part Six: Down a Dark Street


"BOBO FIENDISH!" Jim wailed in horror, backing away from the monster that was going to destroy the entire city of Cascade just to prove a POINT.  "NO!  You're DEAD!"

"Tut, tut," Fiendish smiled shaking his finger in reproach . "We are presenrly perceived as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come - here to enlighten you to the results of the road you currently - and stubbornly - walk.  But you, Shaman, are free to continue to call us 'Bobo' if it pleases you."

"This CAN'T be happening..."

"Coming from a man that's travelled through time and space with both a disgruntled actress and a hippie after having spoken to a corpse?  Ah, irony.  It is to laugh..."

"Why the hell did it have to be you?"

"You know as well as WE do that it wasn't going to go over if it was just some bones in a purple cape.  We seem to recall you braying how you weren't scared of, what was it?  Oh, yes.  A 'God Damned Thing'.  Seeing your reaction to us serves at least to prove that the Man Upstairs hasn't given us the 'thumbs down' just yet.  This pleases me.  Sadly, much as we'd enjoy comparing our... differences in ideology, shall we say?  We have much to show you, and scant time."

"Get the fuck away from me, or so help me I'll kill you again!" Jim shouted, taking a fighting stance.

"Pardon? Hmm... You must have been hit a little harder than we thought," Fiendish replied.  "We don't recall you killing us a FIRST time.  The person taking credit for THAT is our dear friend Dr. Kelso, if you'll recall.  Sadly, it is not the first time he has claimed doing something he did in fact NOT do, but I digress..."

Jim stopped in his tracks.  "Wh-what do you mean?" he stammered.

"Oh, THAT'S right," Fiendish continued.  "You didn't READ his book, did you?  Suffice to say when - which is to say, IF - you ever do; be sure to have a few grains of salt handy.  Heh."  Fiendish clapped his hands together and drywashed them briskly, and Jim tensed in anticipation of the coming assault.  "Now to business," Bobo announced.  "Firstly, lower your hands.  You and we both know that you cannot match us, and the attempt will be an ODIOUS experience.  For us both.  At any rate, we're not here to beat you half to death yet again; that endeavor is so easy it's a smidge boring for us. No, Shaman, our purpose here is to instruct...  And instruct we WILL."

"No," Jim said flatly.  "There's no way in hell I'm going to go anywhere with you, or to have you try and teach me SHIT about Christmas or anything else!"

"Perhaps we weren't clear?" Fiendish said patiently as he crossed his arms over his chest.  "We didn't say we would LIKE to, if you PLEASE.  We said we WOULD - and we ARE."

Jim blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself standing in a bustling paramilitary base.  "What IS this?" Jim blurted. "I don't recognize the insignia... A sword through a golden ring?  Nobody uses that."

"Because it hasn't been created just yet, Shaman," Bobo replied.  "Christmas FUTURE, remember?"

"SIR!" shouted one of the soldiers.  "We have captured the last remnants of the resistance."

"This is good news," nodded the officer.  "Take them to the grand chamber, and I'll inform the Leader.  He shall decide their fate."

"Sir!" saluted the soldier.  "Escort the prisoners to the grand chamber for judgement!"

Several haggard people were roughly shoved along and past Ellison and Fiendish.  "Resistance?  Resistance to what? Who are they?"

"We forget sometimes that you are not quite as far developed as ourselves.  But surely you can tell them by scent?  No matter, you'll know them soon enough..."

"Leader, we present Maya Corasco, weapons supplier and organizer for the Resistance."  The soldier shoved her to the ground in the center of the grand chamber, and she stared defiantly at the figure seated in shadows at the marble desk at the far side of the chamber.  "We present Daryl Banks, chief military specialist and organizer for the Resistance."  Another soldier sent a grown up Daryl sprawling with a stiff clout from his rifle.  "We present Naomi Sandburg, chief organizer and spiritual leader of the Resistance."  Naomi marched forward meekly, and knelt down beside the other two.  "We regret that the leader of the Resistance would not be captured..."

"He escaped?" the Leader asked, his voice tempered steel.

"No, sir," the soldier replied.  "He managed to break free of custody en route, and attacked the pilot of the transport.  It went down.  There were no survivors..."

"FOOL!" the Leader shouted.  "The Fallen Angel has been dead more times than you could count, only to return to strike again at the foundation of what we've built!  I will not believe him dead until his head has been the centerpiece on my table for at least a week, and even THEN I'd doubt it."  He strode forward, pulling a pistol and firing.  The soldier dropped in a gurgling fountain from a sudden rupture in his neck caused by the gunshot.  "To fail in the cause of Good is to serve Evil, and Evil must be PUNISHED."

"EVIL MUST BE PUNISHED!" echoed the soldiers enthusiastically.

"You... actually... did it...," Jim murmured in amazement as he sank to his knees in shock.  "You took over the world and shaped it to your dark vision..."

"No, clearly not," Bobo sighed.  "HE did."

Naomi wept.  "What have you BECOME?" she demanded through her tears.  "Blair..."

"SILENCE!" the Leader barked harshly.  "You have long since forfeited the right to call me by name when you turned against me, mother!  I may yet spare your life if you tell me where the Fallen Angel has hidden himself."

"Never!" Naomi spat.  "He'll see you dead for the mockery you've made of his dream."

Blair laughed mirthlessly.  "I've got a stack of paperwork on my desk that says you're full of shit," he mocked.  "The Resistance is finished.  Good triumphs over Evil.  Accept it.  Eventually, even the likes of the Angel of Death Most Exalted will be swept aside for the good of us all..."

"What the fuck?" Ellison breathed.  "What happened here?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Bobo asked, incredulous.  "That she saw someone that was more than willing to be the friend to him you're no longer willing to be?"

"Holy shit!" Jim exclaimed.  "You're still ALIVE?"

"We never said we were dead, remember?  'We are not dead until we TELL you.'  Ring any bells?"

"Jesus H. Christ... But now... he's after YOU?"

"It all started out just fine," Bobo sighed.  "But the lad was a bit broader in his definition of Evil than ourselves... First, anyone that would not serve was deemed Evil, and driven underground.  Then those that disagreed with his methods were similarly labelled, and hunted - that's where WE come in.  Heh.  Then, those that were a strain on resources were deemed Evil, and so the sick and infirm were expunged.  Then those that didn't quite 'measure up' in whatever fashion they did not - be it mental, physical, et cetera... Then the elderly... Sad, no?  It's even a smidge ironic, considering history..."

"You're surprised?" Jim demanded angrily.  "He's just following in your footsteps!"

"That is not so, Shaman," Fiendish replied.  "Our vision was meant for the good of all.  But... Something had changed Little Brother....  When we first met him, he was possessed of a measure of compassion, piety, gentleness.  When we met him the second time, well... Those qualities were long dead in this one, and no one knew it until he drove out everyone that ever loved him.  Of course, NOW those that remain are back home for the holidays..."

"What happened to me?" Jim asked softly.  "Where do -I- figure in to all this?"

"Just a moment, we're coming to the good part," Fiendish hushed.

"The prisoners await your judgement!" one of the soldiers stated.

Blair looked at the three people huddled together at his feet; people Jim knew that Blair loved more than all the world. "Evil must be punished," he pronounced without a trace of emotion.  "Hang them."

Maya and Naomi sobbed in tandem as the soldiers placed the nooses around their neck, but made no move to resist. Daryl tried, and was clubbed relentlessly to the ground by five soldiers, who then stood his unconscious body up and put the noose around his neck in turn.  The cords were then thrown over the rafter beams, and hooked to winches.

"Wait!" Blair said.

"Thank God," Jim said.  "I knew he wouldn't go through with that..."

"I almost forgot," Blair smiled.  "Merry Christmas."  He then threw a lever, and the winches hummed to life - yanking the three rebels off their feet and dangling them eight feet from the floor.

"NO!" Ellison shrieked.  "BLAIR, STOP!"

"This is where we remind you that we cannot be seen or heard, Shaman," Fiendish said evenly.

"Jesus, I can't watch this," Ellison moaned as he turned away.

"You MUST," Fiendish replied, seizing him and turning him back to witness the scene - even holding his eyes open.  Jim struggled, but Fiendish was too strong.  Ellison wept as he felt his soul rip to pieces.

The prisoners kicked futilely as the cables tightened from their weight, and after what seemed like an eternity to Ellison, they ceased.  Blair watched it all with nary a blink, and after a palpable silence he spoke with a voice like a breeze through a graveyard.  "Evil must be punished."

"EVIL MUST BE PUNISHED!" the soldiers cheered.

"Now get out!" Blair shouted.  "Bring me the head of the Fallen Angel!  NOW!"

"AS THE LEADER COMMANDS!" the soldiers replied in chilling unison.

Blair marched to the marble desk as the soldiers filed out, and appraised his three new chandeliers before sitting down. "You were right, Big Guy," he whispered.  "Dog eat dog.  No holidays . And look how fucking HAPPY I am...." He then went back to his paperwork, and Ellison stared in stunned shock.

"Tell me," he creaked.  "Where do -I- figure in to this nightmare?"

"Ah, yes.  You.  Brace yourself, Shaman, we don't think you'll enjoy this half as much as the last..."

Jim suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a town square, and in the distance he saw a single person on their knees in front of a statue.  "Where are we?" Jim asked.

"The place that holds the answer to your question, Shaman," Bobo replied.  "Go to her..."

"Her?" Ellison stammered.  "What do you mean?"

"Your answers to your place in this world, Shaman, are here.  With her.  Go and get them."

Jim marched tentatively to the statue in the center of the square.  As Fiendish had said, a woman was weeping softly as she laid a few forget-me-nots at the base of the monument.  "Merry Christmas, sweetheart," she whispered through her tears.  "You BASTARD."

Jim took two steps back in surprise.  "CAROLYN?!"  She was reeking with the stench of alcohol.

"He was such a sweet young man," she sighed.  "So giving.  So loving.  Full of dreams and hope and potential.  But you just HAD to step in, right?  Now look at him...  He's destroying the world.  For you.  I hope that you're PROUD of yourself.  May you rot in the bowels of Hell, you twisted, miserable piece of SHIT."

"Citizen, it is approaching curfew," someone said to the right.  "You may return tomorrow to continue paying homage to the Blessed One, if you choose."

"Homage!?"  Carolyn laughed bitterly.  "You're joking.  No, I won't go.  I want this fuck to watch..."

"Citizen, you show dangerous levels of disrespect for the Blessed One.  Please go home.  Sleep it off."

"NO!" Carolyn cried.  "I'm not going anywhere!  You can't make me!"

The sound of a safety unlatching on a submachine gun echoed through the deserted park.  "Citizen, for the last time, you are requested to cease your display and return to your home.  Further acts of defiance will not be tolerated."

"Jesus, Carolyn, go home!" Jim pleaded.  "That psycho isn't playing around!"

"FUCK YOU!" Carolyn shouted, pulling a pistol.

"NO!" Jim cried desperately.  "Please, Carolyn!  NO!"  The sounds of automatic fire erupted, and Carolyn danced the last waltz under it's deadly rain.  She fell to the ground in a bloody heap, and Jim wailed piteously as he dropped to his hands and knees in the sparse snow.

"Rise, Shaman," commanded Fiendish.  "There is one last thing to see..."

"No...," Jim sobbed.  "No more."

"But you must know the architect of this bleak time," Bobo smirked.

"I can't take any more... Please, stop."

Bobo grabbed Jim by the collar.  "But there IS more, Shaman.  Enough for all, and to SPARE."  He lifted Ellison one handed, and held him at arm's length off the ground as he turned him towards the monument.  "Look, and know the fruit of your works!"

"What?" Jim blurted, taken aback.  "MY works?!?  What did -I- have to do with this?"

"You know," Bobo hissed.  "Look upon the proof, coward!"  Jim Ellison stared at the monument, still spattered with Carolyn's blood, and his heart froze dead in his chest.  "READ it, Shaman!" Bobo commanded.

"'In Memorium of James J. Ellison'," Jim recited numbly.  "'The Light that Shows the Way.  The Truth that Builds the World.'"

"By those words be thou DAMNED," Fiendish spat as he tossed Jim roughly to the ground next to Carolyn's body. "FOREVER!"

"NO!" Ellison pleaded.  "Wait!  Are you the Ghost of the Christmas that WILL be, or that MAY be?"

"An interesting question, Shaman.  Why ask?"

"Why show me this, if there's nothing I can do about it?"

"Is there?" Bobo sneered.

"I know that I've stumbled....  That I've forgotten the truth of this season.  But I can change!"

"Do tell?"

"I know it!  Let me have the chance.  Let me erase the letters from that cold stone, and as God is my witness, I'll give all that I am to see to it that this dark passage never comes to the history of the earth.  I beg you!  If you can give me that, I swear to keep the joy and love alive in my heart - and not just at Christmas, but the whole year through!  You'll see.  I know it's not too late!  PLEASE!"

The Dark Angel stood over Ellison's prone form and contemplated for a moment that seemed to go on forever.  "So be it," Bobo smiled.  "You're welcome.  See you SOON."


Chapter 7