Moses Jones & the Angel of 5th Street: God’s Mission
Moses Jones & the Angel of 5th Street: God’s Mission
Angel stomped over to a half-crushed pop can, kicked it off into the shadows of a recessed doorway at the side of the alley, and raised her hand to shade it from the light of an overhead streetlamp that ran like a stripe of nuclear winter along the length of their “Moses-found” hiding spot.
‘This hiding spot sucks ass.’
‘We won’t be here long, baby. Just until I figure out a plan.’
She snorted. ‘Plan? Moses, we were just beamed out of your apartment and dropped in an alley by a deity!’
Moses gazed steadily into her eyes for a moment before responding. ‘This must be part of that “He works in mysterious ways” stuff.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I know – we’ll take the subway.’
Angel’s stomach gurgled and she began rubbing it in a circular motion. ‘I think God knocked me up.’
Moses moved in front of her, blocking the lamp-light. ‘No he didn’t, Angel. You’re not that special.’
‘But He touched me. What do you make of that?’
‘No, he slapped you. There’s a difference.’
‘Well … he might have.’
No. He has a plan for us, but impregnating you isn’t part of it.
Angel poked out her bottom lip. ‘He didn’t have to slap me.’
‘You swore at God! Hell, I would’ve taken a poke at you myself.’
Moses darted his head around the corner, then stepped out onto the sidewalk and waited for Angel to follow, but she stood staring at the spot he’d just vacated.
‘Something wrong?’
She bunched the top of her open shirt in one fist and sniffed. ‘So you don’t think I’m special?’
Moses sighed and shifted his weight to one leg. ‘You’re plenty special – you know what I meant.’
‘Do I? And what plan? His plan, your plan – what the hell could we do that the creator of the known Universe can’t?’
He produced an ivory box no larger than a ring box and shook it. ‘Well, for one thing, deliver this. I don’t know what this even is, but we gotta get it across town before the sun comes up.’
Still, Angel stood her ground, gazing around the alley as though some clue to her query were under a maggoty bag of garbage or tagged alongside “RAZRS FUCKEN RULE DA BLOC” in dayglo orange spray paint, then she said, ‘How the fuck do we even know this dude was God?’
‘Baby, he sucked us into a black hole in the middle of my livingroom–’
‘We were drunk! We could be hallucinating this whole thing.’
‘No, you were drunk, I was drinking Pepsi. Besides, he was twenty feet tall, Ang. How many people do you know who’re twenty feet tall?’
She shrugged.
‘I didn’t think so. Let’s go. We gotta get a move on if we wanna catch the next cross-town.’
Angel glanced down at her bare feet, then stepped out of the alley. ‘Fine, but can I see that thing?’ She held out a hand.
Moses pocketed the ivory box and took her by the elbow. ‘No, now let’s go. He said there might be other things looking for this and to keep it safe ’til we pass it off to that guy Zeke.’
Angel took a step backward. ‘Things? He said things? What kinda things?’
‘Do you trust me?’
‘That’s got nothing to do–’
Moses cupped her chin with one hand and kissed her. ‘Do you trust me to keep you safe?’
Hand in hand – because it was likely the only way to get Angel to move her feet – Moses led the way: onward toward the subway station and eventual hand off of the ivory box.
‘How come I don’t remember hearing any of this shit and I was right beside you?’
‘I don’t know how, but he was in my head; showing me pictures and telling me stuff I ain’t never seen before.’
Upon entering the subway station, Angel stepped around a vagrant laying facedown in a puddle of vomit. Fighting to keep down her own lunch, she held her breath and moved quickly past him. She pulled Moses close after passing through the turnstile, and whispered, ‘You see that shit? I think that dude was dead.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘I know – It’s sad. But I’m pretty sure he’s not dead. Somebody would’ve done something if he was. Want me to check him out?’
‘Sad? Check him out? What the fuck is wrong with you, Moe? You’d've been the first person to crack a joke about this not two hours ago.’
‘I don’t know. I guess when God touched me, he did something to me – changed me in some way. Like … like I know what’s important now.’
* * *
Twin points of white hot light appeared, then gained size and brilliance. Soon they overlapped and colours formed, dancing like smoke in a lazy breeze. Then the colours became shapes, and shapes formed letters: ’5th Street Terminal’ stenciled on tobacco-yellow walls. A searing jolt shot through the vagrant’s corpse, and it’s body arched as tendrils of electricity played along the floor, scorching the puddled vomit into an oblong blackened pancake.
The corpse drew a ragged breath and retched – emptying a phlemy ball of maggots and the remainder of its last meal onto the floor before its face. Slowly, as neck muscles corded and ropey arms twitched, the body pushed away from the ground. One eye swiveled toward the exit to the trains, and its bloodless lips parted in a toothless grin. The creature shakily gained its feet, clumsily wiped caked vomit from its cheek, and lurched forward on rubber legs. This body wouldn’t last long, but the key was close and the Master would not be denied.