Part 5

Ah, are you back for the end of it? Well, let's get it all down before I forget the blasted thing. Just the judgement bit itself, left, isn't that right? Okay.

You know, I think I'm going to get hit when I actually tell you what God said. No, nothing cliched or anything, just - He tries to give happy endings, you know? But it doesn't always work. Some people are not meant to stay together. And some people - well. Those two kids, Cole and Ivanova - they never even got together. Kinda sad in a way, but that's the way things are.

And, trust me, you do not want them to be any different! Ever thought about what it would be like if we all had fantastic love-lives? Mass suicide.

Don't give me that look! I'm serious! You think God built mortals to have perfect lives? They'll go insane. Potty. Around the bend. Off the proverbial cliff, no coming back, no second brick. Ah, angst. The stuff of good interaction.

Okay, okay, enough! I'm getting to it! Right. God brought the hammer down for His final judgement. And, let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. "SUSAN IVANOVA SHALL LIVE, AS YOU WISH IT SO MUCH."

Ouch.

What?

Oh. Well, um, see - it wasn't the nice decision. I can't judge on whether it was the right decision, but it wasn't nice. I don't know what nice would have been, to tell you the truth. But - anyway.

And - the Cole character doesn't seem as relieved, somehow, as I had thought he would. In fact, he seems to be fading even more. His hands are slowly growing paler and paler and more like liquid marble by the second. Even his face - it's like, it's melting, but in reverse. I tell you, watching that - it's horrible. It doesn't hurt, they tell me, but I bet you that's only because they're already dead.

Well, at least one thing's certain. Cole's gonna be filed away with everyone else --

And that was when they brought Ivanova out. She'd been waiting in a room nearby, see, and they brought her out to put her back. And they had to do it quick - I could feel the fabric underneath me ripple with repressed eagerness. It wanted to change. It needed to change - God had so decreed it. It was dogma. The dead can be brought back.

And so, they grabbed her and brought her out, no time for finesse. She looked horrible. I am telling you, she was a walking skeleton. Bones sticking out everywhere, eyes sunk into the sockets so far you can barely see a spark left in them, mouth - well, let's just say that it had used to be round and full and rather pretty, if I'm any judge of these things. When I looked at her mouth, there was a considerably large part of me that wanted to retch.

Have you heard of the nosferatu? No, not the modern vampires you seem so enamoured with - pansywaisted sycophantic creatures if I ever saw them. I mean nosfetaru - the original ones? Their gums have retracted so much that their teeth are incredibly prominent, which sprang up the whole vampire cult thing. I've no idea if they were the original bloodsuckers, but they're the ones that were hunted. Their skin was so delicate, it couldn't stand sunlight, blistering at even a few stray rays.

Now, take that image and change it to fit a walking female skeleton. It was monstrous.

The only thing that could have been worse was if her teeth had been pointed, which of course they couldn't since she wasn't a vampire, but if they were, I'm have killed her then and there.

Which, thinking on it, would have been a singularly stupid thing to do if she was a vampire, seeing as she was dead already and would have clipped me like so much paper.

Anyway.

So, there I am, fighting the urge to be sick, and they're half-carrying, half-dragging this remnant of a woman across the judgement floor, and Cole suddenly makes this horrible, wrenching sound. I'd never thought how the sight of her would affect him, see - well, it wasn't really the sight of her, it was the sight of what remained of her life-force. Which wasn't much; she was practically falling to pieces on us.

I turned to him, in what I swear was slow-motion, and his mouth has just fallen open in what must be the classic picture of shock and horror. And he said nothing for all of about two minutes, while the guards carrying Ivanova stopped on a signal from me. She was half-awake, see, and trying to look at him, but not really focusing.

"Susan?" Even his voice had started to curdle. It didn't sound anything like the crisp British voice that had greeted the boss man at the start of the conversation. Actually, this all took place rather quickly, despite my taking forever to explain it. A half-hour by our standards, at most. Maybe a thousandth of a second by mortal standards.

Well, of course we have a longer day! We have more work to do than you do!

Anyway. Cole went this sickly green colour and started to choke again, and that - sweet Jesus, that brought the woman around. "M-M-Marcus?"

It wasn't even a whisper. It was more like a wheeze; someone trying to force sound out of a palette too long unused. It was - what's that ancient word? Yes. It was ghastly.

"Susan, I..." And he stopped again, and looked away, trying to swallow. He couldn't even breathe, seeing as he was dead, so that was impossible. The worst part is them trying to act like they're alive when they're not. They're really not.

"What's 'appening, Ma'cus?" Her speech was slurred, and her eyes were half-closed. I think she was trying to focus - desperately trying to focus on him, on the queue, on anything other than the fact that a few more minutes and she would be decomposing where she sat.

I know, it's a horrible image. But the truth is often horrible. You want me to tell you that she looked beautiful and fresh and ran into his arms? That they embraced and kissed and had a tearful but short-lived reunion until he sent her back to live her life without him? Death is harsh. It doesn't work that way. Like I said, you get to see people at their worst here. You remember them at their worst.

"You're going to live, Susan," Marcus said, trying to sound as if he was sure. "You're going to live because I love you."

It would have been beautiful, I guess, if it wasn't for the fact that we don't get 'happily ever after's here. She looked at him again, and I swear her gaze sharpened. She licked her lips and tried to draw herself up to her full height, despite the guards holding either arm. "Stupid idiot," she said, very softly and very clearly.

Silence at this. Even Cole - maybe especially Cole - didn't say a word. Everyone just watched, wide-eyed. Ivanova yanked her arms away from the guards and stood, very gingerly, on legs that threatened to give way any second. Step by bloody agonising step she made her way closer to Cole, her hands clenched into claws at her sides. Her mouth was twisted in a horribly cruel smile.

No one moved or even breathed - even though we didn't breathe - until she stood eye to eye with Cole. Even then, the smile was still there. It made her look like a vampiress, I tell you, all teeth and - God, her eyes had returned by then, and they weren't glowing, they were just - there. Freaky. Freaky. I've never seen anything like it. Then again, I've never seen anyone that far gone, before.

"Why did you do this? Why are they sending me back?" She asked him, trying to make her unwilling lips form the words. Her eyes were so open, so black, and I stared in them for a long while before I realised that she wasn't blinking. She couldn't blink. There were no eyelids there.

I fought back nausea.

"I - I love you," Cole told her, trying to keep his eyes focused - God knows where. The Almighty himself was watching this silently, not saying anything. He knew that He shouldn't get involved with this - I knew that I didn't want to.

"You love me?" And she laughed.

It was hideous. Cruel and pained and open-mouthed and open-eyed, it was hideous.

"You love me, and so you're sending me back to live like this?" She waved a hand down at herself. Cole swallowed hard and deliberately ran his eyes over her. It wasn't a pretty sight. Her body - once, it had been youthful and beautiful, I suppose - was covered in bruises - or was that decomposition marks? She looked like the corpse of an old woman, with a young woman's eyes glaring out of hollow eye-sockets.

By then, I was quietly being sick over the side of my desk. Cole was shuddering and trying to fight instinct to do the same. "You want to send me back to live like this! And you do this out of love?" She sounded amazed.

Cole swallowed again. "Um - I - I - that's not the physical you... it's just the soul." He shut up at that, immediately, his jaw slack with horror at what he'd just said.

Ivanova laughed harshly, and, I must say, I understood her completely. "And that doesn't matter, does it? As long as I look the same on the outside?" She waved another hand at her face. "Look at me! This is me inside! My eyes can never close, Marcus! Never! I'll see everything I've ever lost! My body - my spirit - is more tired, more angry and more bruised than that of an old woman!" Her voice had risen to a screech. "My soul is dead, and you're sending it back down again? You want me to live like this!"

If she could have slapped him, I think she would have, and Cole knew that. It's a horrible thing to have to acknowledge - that what you thought to give in gift turns out to be a curse. "I just - I just wanted to you to live." He said finally, very simply, looking away.

She stared at him for a long moment again, her hollow eyes calculating. "I'll live, then," she said at last, slowly walking backwards. Her step was unsteady, and immediately the two guards flanked her to grasp her arms and support her. "I'll live for you, Marcus Cole. Because you need me to." She raised her head to peer down at him, her manner that of a queen. "But I won't forget this."

They took her away, then, and never was I gladder to see anyone leave more than that wretched woman and the cursed life she'd have to live. All for this man - the challenger.

Cole? Yeah, he watched her go. He even said "I love you," very, very softly, just before they closed the gates behind her. I doubt she heard him, though; she was already on her way back down again.

Then, she was gone, and Cole stood there, completely defeated.

He turned back to God after a while, and looked up at Him. He was squinting, like he couldn't see properly. Maybe he never could, but this was the first time he'd acknowledged it. "I didn't mean for it to be this way," he said, just as quietly, his head down.

Have you seen the Morning Star? I don't mean pictures, or drawings, or even mental images. I mean - have you seen him? He's beautiful. That's why he's perfect for the job. And that's --

That's how he looked, when he was cast down. For daring to challenge.

"I KNOW. BUT THIS IS THE WAY IT TURNED OUT. I'M SORRY."

No, God isn't vengeful. He just -- sometimes, mortals have to learn on their own that you can't change everything around, you can't mess everything up for everyone else. Not even if you think it's for a pure cause - and what's purer than love?

I think that's enough, now, Daniel. I've given you more than enough for your interview. I think you'd better leave.

What? Cole? Oh, yeah. Well, God never did make a judgement about what would happen to him, did he?

Well, I guess I could... wouldn't harm anyone, seeing as I've told you the rest...

He hasn't decided yet. The paperwork for a possible conditional discharge just came through, actually. So, until further notice, Marcus Cole is in my 'pending' file - with the strong possibility of a conditional discharge.

There. Didn't I tell you He had a heart?

Click. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Stop the cassette.

Open the door and walk out slowly, trying to have a look around at the same time. The door is closed by him, none too gently, and then the courtyard stretches out in front. There is nothing there but a small desk next to the high gates. Walk towards the desk, and towards the darkly robed man standing there. The gates are opened; turn to leave.

Something's there, nailed in front of the desk. A little plaque.

Pause; stoop down.

"We, the willing,
led by the All-knowing,
are doing the impossible
for the ungrateful. We have done
so much,
for so little,
for so long,
we are now qualified to do
anything with nothing."

Walk out and not look back as the gates are swung closed again. Ahead, a dark-haired woman is slowly walking down a spiralling staircase.

"You too, huh?" She asks.

"No. I'm from the Press."

She nods and walks on ahead, head held high.

The End