God created man a lot later than the archeologists thought.”
Uh-oh. “Hm … not quite, Mike.”
His eyes speared me through the forehead. “What do you mean?”
“When God cursed Cain, giving him the Mark, forcing him to wander the earth and know no peace, he also cursed him with immortality. Cain had wandered for more than forty thousand years before creating the Tablet.”
Mike just closed his eyes and rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage away a headache.
The Corolla stayed quiet as a tomb all the way to Midland, Texas, home of oil barons and the only skyline in that part of the state. Its sister city, Odessa, was the armpit of the Permian Basin, boasting only oil and an outstanding high-school football team. Other than that, it was the heart of darkness.
Late lunch, or an early dinner, came from Wienerschnitzel, where I ate greasiest, tastiest Polish sausage known to man. God bless America. Mike ate three, slurping them down with a diet soda, and I could swear I heard his arteries hardening.
After filling the Corolla with gas, we headed out on Highway 20 westbound straight into the middle of miles of nothing except heat blasted white sand dotted with sad-looking scrub. A few small, worn hills provided the only change in altitude I could see and a single railroad track paralleled the highway, passing through the bleached and windswept bones of old towns that had once tried to suckle the milk of prosperity provided by a defunct railway.
The sun began to set before we reached the 10 to El Paso and pulled over onto the shoulder. Even though the Corolla’s air conditioner barely functioned and the sun had just kissed the horizon, the outside air scorched my lungs dry as I took a deep breath. Just like I remembered.
“At least it’s a dry heat,” Mike joked as he fanned himself.
Wow … humor. He must have mellowed out about the Tablet. I tossed him a cheeky grin through the sweat beading on my lips and he returned it with interest. Good. We were all right again.
“If you’re up for another display of Elemental magic,” I remarked offhandedly, “then come on. Otherwise stay with the car. I won’t be long.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for all the tea in China,” he said.
“Be careful what you wish for, man, because I really don’t want to freak you out any more than I have already.”
“I don’t think I can freak out any more, kid.”
The sand and scrub absorbed my laughter. “Oh, Mike, you have no idea.” My toe connected with a stone that looked to be half fossil while I wiped the sweat from my brow. “The world is filled with magics that the ordinary person never gets to see or is unprepared to see.”
Mike stared out at the barren landscape, drinking in its desolation. After a moment the corner of his mouth crooked upward. He laughed softly at my look of annoyance. “It is my job as a priest to believe in things we don’t or can’t see, so I think I am doing well.” A longer pause, then, “Why don’t you keep your spooker in a safety deposit box?”
I glanced toward the sun half hidden by the horizon and throwing orange and red light into the darkening sky. “I put it somewhere safer than a mere bank.”
By the time the last rays faded Mike and I had trekked about a mile from the Corolla. I whispered a Word and the night resolved itself into brilliant hues of green, gold and red, a psychedelic mash of colors. My hand found Mike’s shoulder and I whispered the same Word in his ear. Vision always smelled of apples. Apple and pears.
With a muffled curse he stopped abruptly and crossed himself. Muttering an apology to God for the language, he rounded on me. “What did you do, Jude?” He rubbed his eyes. “Was this one of your Words?”
“Vision,” I affirmed.
“Why the blazes didn’t you warn me?” he ground out.
“Because you wouldn’t have let me and then you would’ve spent the rest of our time out here hot, miserable and stumbling in the
Uh-oh. “Hm … not quite, Mike.”
His eyes speared me through the forehead. “What do you mean?”
“When God cursed Cain, giving him the Mark, forcing him to wander the earth and know no peace, he also cursed him with immortality. Cain had wandered for more than forty thousand years before creating the Tablet.”
Mike just closed his eyes and rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage away a headache.
The Corolla stayed quiet as a tomb all the way to Midland, Texas, home of oil barons and the only skyline in that part of the state. Its sister city, Odessa, was the armpit of the Permian Basin, boasting only oil and an outstanding high-school football team. Other than that, it was the heart of darkness.
Late lunch, or an early dinner, came from Wienerschnitzel, where I ate greasiest, tastiest Polish sausage known to man. God bless America. Mike ate three, slurping them down with a diet soda, and I could swear I heard his arteries hardening.
After filling the Corolla with gas, we headed out on Highway 20 westbound straight into the middle of miles of nothing except heat blasted white sand dotted with sad-looking scrub. A few small, worn hills provided the only change in altitude I could see and a single railroad track paralleled the highway, passing through the bleached and windswept bones of old towns that had once tried to suckle the milk of prosperity provided by a defunct railway.
The sun began to set before we reached the 10 to El Paso and pulled over onto the shoulder. Even though the Corolla’s air conditioner barely functioned and the sun had just kissed the horizon, the outside air scorched my lungs dry as I took a deep breath. Just like I remembered.
“At least it’s a dry heat,” Mike joked as he fanned himself.
Wow … humor. He must have mellowed out about the Tablet. I tossed him a cheeky grin through the sweat beading on my lips and he returned it with interest. Good. We were all right again.
“If you’re up for another display of Elemental magic,” I remarked offhandedly, “then come on. Otherwise stay with the car. I won’t be long.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for all the tea in China,” he said.
“Be careful what you wish for, man, because I really don’t want to freak you out any more than I have already.”
“I don’t think I can freak out any more, kid.”
The sand and scrub absorbed my laughter. “Oh, Mike, you have no idea.” My toe connected with a stone that looked to be half fossil while I wiped the sweat from my brow. “The world is filled with magics that the ordinary person never gets to see or is unprepared to see.”
Mike stared out at the barren landscape, drinking in its desolation. After a moment the corner of his mouth crooked upward. He laughed softly at my look of annoyance. “It is my job as a priest to believe in things we don’t or can’t see, so I think I am doing well.” A longer pause, then, “Why don’t you keep your spooker in a safety deposit box?”
I glanced toward the sun half hidden by the horizon and throwing orange and red light into the darkening sky. “I put it somewhere safer than a mere bank.”
By the time the last rays faded Mike and I had trekked about a mile from the Corolla. I whispered a Word and the night resolved itself into brilliant hues of green, gold and red, a psychedelic mash of colors. My hand found Mike’s shoulder and I whispered the same Word in his ear. Vision always smelled of apples. Apple and pears.
With a muffled curse he stopped abruptly and crossed himself. Muttering an apology to God for the language, he rounded on me. “What did you do, Jude?” He rubbed his eyes. “Was this one of your Words?”
“Vision,” I affirmed.
“Why the blazes didn’t you warn me?” he ground out.
“Because you wouldn’t have let me and then you would’ve spent the rest of our time out here hot, miserable and stumbling in the
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