A PALE HORSE

Michael looked up for a moment and then turned to Abe. A smile lit his face. “You have to go home now,” he told him.

“Uh, no way, cap! You owe me some answers. We haven’t finished our conversation, and I still have questions, Mike. I would like to know about this support program you have.”

Michael forestalled him with a raised hand. “Abe, relax! Take it easy… we are going with you. The person that we need Peter to help is on his way to your place,’” Michael told him. Abe raised a quizzical eyebrow at Michael.

“The other someone? At least tell me this: do I know him?” Abe asked him.

“Not only do you know him,” Michael told him with a smile, “you have done some of your best work with him.” That got Abe’s full attention. “Rose, you are more than welcome to come along?” Michael asked her. Momma Rose made a tsking sound and waved her hands at Michael.

“No, you have spent too much time here already, and I have work to do. You boys go along and do whatever boys do.” She winked at Peter as she passed him causing him to smile in return. “I will pack you something to take with you.”

“If I eat any more I may explode!” Peter told her.

“Good thing it is not just for you then,” Momma Rose told him as she walked out into the kitchen. Peter shook his head in confusion but figured she knew what she was talking about.

Michael smiled and slapped Peter on the back, “Rose is always prepared Peter; she has been gifted with foresight. She also really makes me wish that angels needed to eat!” Peter mulled that over as Michael and Abe spoke quietly. He decided that it made perfect sense to him. Momma Rose always seemed to know what Peter needed before he did. He shrugged his shoulders at himself and caught the small smile that played across Michael’s face. He figured that the smile was for him and Michael seemed to confirm it when he turned slightly to wink at Peter. Momma Rose came bustling back into the room with a large hamper and a jug of sweet tea.

“Wow, Momma Rose, you planning on feeding an army?” he asked in astonishment. She put the basket down and turned to him with a smile, “You never know who will need to eat, and besides, who doesn’t like Momma Rose’s cooking?” she said in a mock challenge. All three men held up their hands in surrender.

Michael said, “I’m sure that whatever you have packed will be just enough.” He kissed her cheek as he grabbed the handle of the basket. Abe grabbed the jug of tea and Peter followed the two men out the door after giving Momma Rose a fierce hug. The three men walked out of the café into the dusk. They hailed a pedicab to take them out of the quarter where Abe had parked his truck. Peter let himself be distracted by the noise and activity of the quarter at sundown. The revelers were out in full force and Peter could see a few patrons that had already imbibed dizzily making their way to the next bar. The innumerable styles of music blasting out of the innumerable bars they passed met his ears in a raucous cacophony. The noise, in his opinion, was not the best thing about living in New Orleans. He really did like the people, though. He enjoyed people of all walks; he liked listening to their stories, where they came from and where they were going. He just wasn’t particularly good with people, which is probably why he had been so successful in activities where he was sequestered away from them. It’s why he created and invented alone, with the exception of the occasional intrusion by Travis or Tammy. Peter was very awkward when it came to talking to new people. He was never really sure what to say, so he tended to not say anything at all. That made people think of him as introverted or stand-offish when he was young and anonymous, but now that he had money and influence, especially at his younger age, they thought of him as eccentric.

“Peter,” Michael said, pulling his attention away from the streets and back to his current situation. “I know this may seem a bit overwhelming to you, but you are in a unique situation that will help save countless people. You are more prepared for this than you think and you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Michael told him. The pedi-cab stopped at the end of the street and the three men filed out of the cab and Michael and Peter followed Abe around the corner to the parking garage and his old pick-up. They got into the F-150 and Abe started it up. He pulled out of the parking space and made his way to the front of the garage.

“Alright, Mike… we’re here. Now, will you please tell us who we will be meeting and who this help is that we are supposed to get?” Abe asked Michael.

“Sam Ramos.”

“I didn’t know you knew Sam!” Abe exclaimed. “He is, uh… not the friendliest dude I’ve ever met. He’s roped into some shady dealings sometimes, but he always tries to make it right. We’ve ‘misplaced’ some pretty bad cargo over the years!” Abe told them, laughing. “He loves to push his envelope further than I push mine, but he’s good people. He’s just a bit rough if you don’t know him,.” he finished. “How does he figure into this?”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Abe. He’s in a bit of trouble and Peter is going to guide him.” Michael sent a thumb in Peter’s direction all the while grinning at Abe. Abe’s brows furrowed and he was instantly concerned for his friend.

“What is going on with Sam? I thought you said he is on his way to see me?” Abe said.

“He is on his way to see you, Abe. He is also a very special person… or not. I mean, yes, he is a person as all people are people, but not a PERSON person, really. Look, remember when I was talking to you about the Watcher angels and how they married and produced children with humans?” Michael asked them.

“Yeah, I do. Do you mean Sam is one of them? A Nephilim?” Abe replied.

“Well, no. It’s complicated, but,” Michael continued, breathing a heavy sigh, “Sam Ramos is Samael. He’s an angel, Abe. More specifically, he’s a Watcher,” Michael said like that would clear up any questions.

“Man, nothing surprises me anymore.”, said Abe. He pulled off his cap and flipped his hand around to wipe at his forehead, then replaced the hat back on his head. “So fine. Sam is an angel. So..?” Abe prompted causing Michael to sigh again.

“So, Abe, all of the Watchers were cast into a great pit after the war of the heavens, except Sam.”

“Interesting. Why was Sam excluded?” Peter asked, piping up from the passenger seat. “Did he escape or something?”

“No, Peter, he didn’t escape… well, figuratively I guess he sort of did. I went to the Master to ask for leniency on his behalf. I interceded, which is why he is now my responsibility.”

“Why?” Peter asked him.

Michael waved him off and quickly said “That part isn’t important right now. What is important is that Sam needs to be restored to his former self and there is only one way to do that,” Michael told them. Abe turned onto the off-ramp to the airport and decelerated the Ford. Michael was running out of time and started telling his story in earnest. “Sam has been forgiven, but he still has a lot of anger. His heart must change. Sam needs to want to be forgiven his past indiscretions and want to be restored. Right now, he blames himself… and me, for a lot.”

“What does he blame you for?” Peter asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I promise, you will find out later, but now it’s not important, other than to say the thing that he blames me for was done by someone much closer and unexpected. He needs to forgive himself and want to be forgiven in return. That task is yours, Abe. I know he’s not the most open person, but since you already know Sam maybe he would be willing to talk to you about this,” Michael said.

Abe shook his head. “I don’t think I’m qualified to help Sam, who is an angel of all things, sort out his feelings. I am an old soldier, and he is… do angels even have feelings?” Abe turned to Michael. Michael gave him a wry smile, and he continued. “Look, I’m not the guy. I could see if he would talk to Dr. Jo?” He said and turned the corner to where the hangars were.

“Dr. Jo would not be able to help him, Abe,” Michael said. “She is special, but she cannot help Sam in this instance.”

“Why? Wouldn’t Sam be open to seeing a psychiatrist?” Peter asked, causing Michael to belly laugh.

“No, let’s just say that Sam would not benefit from a visit to Dr. Jo. This task must fall to Abe. You however, have a different task,” Michael said, ending the debate. “Sam is in over his head in this new venture he has undertaken. The men he is dealing with now are as devious as they are ruthless, and they are meddling in things that are better left buried.” Michael, searching the evening out the windshield suddenly pointed and said, “Hey, pull over here, Abe.” Abe pulled off to the side of the road, his hangar clearly in sight. Michael looked at both of them. “I have warned you that the Nephilim have tried and failed to produce a body that will sustain them. They move from host to host like a virus. They are currently trying to reproduce some of the old ways and magic from before the flood. In order to get that information, they are digging up the past. Literally.” Michael turned very serious and Peter wasn’t sure he liked it at all. “The order of the Nephilim are into some of the worst things imaginable- trafficking, slavery, drugs, weapons of mass destruction, you name it and they are behind it, ” said Michael. “Sam is getting mixed up in their world. If he goes too far he will be lost, but, if you can help him, then you could save countless lives. There are a lot of innocents mixed up in this mess,” Michael finished.

“What do I need to do?” Peter asked worriedly.

“First, you need to meet Sam and get him to take you to Russia on his next flight,” Michael told him.

“Russia!!” exclaimed Peter, “Why would he want to take me to Russia with him?” Peter asked.

“There must be a way, Peter; you will think of something.” Michael said in a rush, opening the door with a creak. “I gotta go now, but I will catch up with you again soon. Have faith, boys… the way forward always presents itself.” With that pronouncement he was gone. Not with a poof like in a magic act, he just wasn’t there anymore. Peter shook his head and smiled at Abe.

“I’ve got to learn that trick.”

Abe smiled then asked Peter, “So, how are you gonna get Sam to let you fly with him? He is awful particular about his plane,” Abe told him.

“Well, I thought that I would just do what I normally do when I would like for someone to do something- appeal to their better nature and flatter them,” said Peter.

“What do you do when that doesn’t work?” Abe asked, smiling.

“The other thing. I’ll offer him a lot of money,” Peter told him. Abe looked a little stunned. “There is an Ichiharu convention coming up in a week. It’s not really large enough for Guardian normally, but I have plenty of things that could go over to be sold, including a large piece that I just finished. An item that would require accompanied shipment on a cargo plane,” Peter told Abe, “Those, along with some money to grease the skids, should get me to Russia.” He finished his statement with a thoughtful glance at Abe. “What do you think, Abe? Would it work?”

Abe scratched his whiskered chin and answered, “Well, Sam really likes flying and he really likes money, so, yes, I believe it would. Now, let’s go meet Sam.” Abe restarted his old truck and they drove around the last corner to the hangar. As they got out of the truck, Abe noticed the shadow before Peter and sprang into action, he pushed Peter to the side and drew a hidden baton from his pocket. With a click it extended as Abe swung it up in front of him.

“Whoa, easy Abe!” He heard a disembodied voice from the shadow. “It’s just me.”

Abe shook his head and swore, “Sam! Damn you, man! You nearly scared me to death!” Abe collapsed his stick and put it back in his pocket. He wipes his brow with his bandana and shook Sam’s outstretched hand. “How you been? It’s been a while.” Sam smiled and looked beyond Abe to Peter who still looked as if he was going to wet himself.

“Who’s your friend, Abe?” Sam asked him suspiciously.

“Yeah, this is Peter Devereaux. Peter, Sam Ramos. He’s the pilot I told you about earlier. Peter here needs a pilot to fly him and some stuff to Russia for some big comic nerd thing.”

Peter laughed and said, “It’s Comic-Con, Abe, but that isn’t until October. I really need someone who can get my newest project to Russia for Ichiharu next week. Nice to meet you, Sam,” Peter said, holding out his hand for Sam to shake. Sam looked at the outstretched hand like it was a snake bent to strike without notice.

Sam gave the hand a quick shake and turned back to Abe, “Why me?” Sam asked.

“Well, I seemed to remember that you do a lot of flying back and forth to there and I was going to give you a call to ask you when your next trip is. That’s what Peter and I were coming to get and low and behold, here you are. Talk about great timing, huh, Peter?” Abe winked at Peter and smiled at Sam.

“Yeah, it is great timing if you are going that way and have some empty space. I have some cargo that needs to get to Russia.” Peter said excitedly. “This newest piece is sure to bring some big bucks.” He looked at Sam with a hopeful expression.

“Yeah? Tell me,” Sam asked, dubiously, “what do big bucks look like in your world, kid?” He doubted very seriously that this kid had even close to the amount of money required to make this trip worth it, or even possible. Damn millennials, he thought, have no idea what things cost and think the world owes them Peter was a bit perturbed and was about to give the older man the blasting that he deserved, when Abe surprisingly spoke up, adamantly.

Abe turned to Sam and said “Hey, man! This kid has made a name for himself in many circles worldwide and has created a company that he runs with limited help that strictly relies on his imagination. He’s loaded and well-connected.” Sam looked about as stunned as Peter. Neither one said anything but continued to stare at Abe. “What?” he said, “I can read, can’t I?”

Peter looked at Abe and grinned. “Thank you, Abe. It did take me awhile to build my business, but with the sci-fi genre gaining in popularity, we do a lot of private collection acquisition and movie and TV pieces. I’ll probably have to either expand and bring on other artists or become a strictly commissioned creator. All that to say this, Sam: I can pay you very well to assist me. Do we have a deal?” the younger man said, holding out his hand to seal their agreement with Sam’s handshake. Sam stayed his hand momentarily, and spoke.

“Give me a minute, Peter. I’m more than certain money won’t be an issue here, but there are some logistics to work out. Can I speak with Abe a sec?”

“Sure, take your time,” said Peter, pleased at his newly-acquired cred within their conversation. Sam turned to Abe and spoke, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly agitated. Abe got that all was not well.

“What’s up, man? You don’t look good.”

“I am offloading some cargo this evening,” he started, giving Abe a look loaded with double meaning. “It will be offloaded late tonight, and I could use your help… like in Tacoma,” he finished.

Oh, God! Abe knew immediately what Sam intended, and felt slightly sick. More girls. He caught himself and feigned nonchalance. “Oh well, maybe I could help. I remember that job.” Abe suddenly got an idea, “Shouldn’t take too long for three people.”

“Yeah, I’d be happy to help, Sam!” Peter said, oblivious to the underlying meaning.

“I don’t think there will be a need for that, Peter,” Sam said through his teeth, boring a hole into Abe with his eyes. “There are only a handful of pieces. Abe and I can cover it. You know,it can be dangerous getting cargo off a plane. Things shift in flight and sometimes people can get hurt.” Sam stood with a stony expression, the only show of impatience being the tapping of his aviator glasses against his leg.

Peter spoke, dismissing Sam’s statement with a wave, “Not worried about it. What are we going to do about the cargo tonight?” he asked.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Abe held up his hand, shaking his head and pacing. What’s more important, he asked himself, the mission that an angel charged him with or getting these abducted girls to safety? He prayed quickly for guidance and trusted what he heard. “Okay,” Abe said, and turned to Peter. “What size payload are we looking at here, Peter? For your show?” Peter hesitated, and Abe got irritated. “Come on, Peter! You know! You do this all the time! What size?” Abe asked.

“Uh, about 8 x 8 foot crate would do?” Peter answered, surprised, then more sure of himself, “Yeah, four 8x8s should work.”

Sam looked over at him, “Excuse me? That is a lot of room! What can you possibly be shipping to Russia that needs that much space?”

Peter smiled widely and with pride in his voice said, “I have designed and fabricated full mechatronic, armored suits. They easily stand about seven feet tall and are about five and a half feet wide with an extra foot and a half for a weapon.” Now Peter had Sam’s full attention.

“That sounds like something that I would love to see! Tell me, are these suits wearable or are they strictly to look at?” Sam asked with a speculative glance.

“They are made to be worn by people. Fully functional. I have scared quite a few people testing those suits. Each one has been personally tested by me so I know that they work correctly.” Peter said. “They weigh about as much as a small car, and are fully air conditioned.”

Abe saw Sam’s wheels turning and he crossed his arms and asked “You look like you have an idea?”

“Yeah, I do, actually!” Sam said to Abe, excitedly. He mouthed the word Tacoma to Abe, turned to Peter and made an offer. “If I gave you a discount to get you there, would you be willing to loan me one? Tonight?” Abe suddenly got what Sam wanted it for.

Peter looked pensive, “What are you going to use them for? I mean, you break it you bought it. As long as that’s understood, and I accompany it, we have no problems.” Peter was through negotiating, and crossed his arms in finality. “Oh, wait!” Peter said, smacking his head like he had forgotten something. “All of the suits are crated for shipment in my shop! We’d never get them unpacked in time! But,” he said, thinking and tapping his chin while he paced, “I do have the original prototype. I mean, it spends most of the time in a corner collecting dust now. I usually only refer back to it to get new ideas for the current builds. It doesn’t have any great flourishes to it and it is completely black primer. Will that work?” Peter asked.

Sam considered, “Yeah, that works… well, everything but the you coming with part. That’s a no-go. I fly a machine that’s probably more complicated than your prop suit, so we’ll do what we need to do and get it back to you, good as new.“. Peter laughed, but it wasn’t because Sam had said something funny.

“Nu-uh. I don’t believe you heard me earlier, Sam. This isn’t negotiable. You have to take me along, considering I’m the only one who knows how to work it.” Peter grinned then. “And, if you think that your plane is something to see, you are in for a big surprise!”

Sam looked at Abe for some help, but Abe just shrugged and said, “Kid’s got a point, Sam. What if you jump in that thing and can’t control it or blow yourself up?”

Sam sighed, “Peter, you win. Ten grand and the loan of you suit- with you IN IT,” Sam said, as Peter held up a finger to object, “for the job tonight.” The pilot sighed, holding out his hand for a shake. “You’re a slick negotiator, son, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into. This could end up being very dangerous. I want you to know that up front, but from the sounds of your mech units, I don’t think we will have as many problems as we would have.” Peter took the proffered hand and shook it eagerly looking back and forth between Abe and Sam.

“This sounds like it’s going to be a blast!”

Sam looked at Abe and grinned, the three of them reached the door to Abe’s hangar and, as they walked inside, Sam clapped his hands together and said, “Alright, gentlemen. We have a lot of planning to do and only about four hours to make it all happen.” Abe immediately went to the kitchen and started the coffee.

“Peter, why don’t you break out those beignets we brought from Momma Rose’s?” Abe told him. Peter set the bag he was carrying on the counter and took the plate from Abe’s outstretched hand.

Sam sniffed appreciatively, but held up a hand, “Thanks, but not hungry at the moment. Let’s get to work.” He sat at the table and took out his phone, a pen, and a pad of paper.

“That’s cool… more for me!” Peter smiled and grabbed a pastry, sitting down. In a matter of minutes, they were all sitting, planning, drinking and talking.

Abe said, swallowing, “Peter, I need you to give me a full load out and capability run down on your suit. Sam, I need any intel on the movement schedule and whatever you have on Olivier’s men. I already know the gaps in the security movements, so we’re fine there.”

Abe was looking at a printed plan of the service road, and Peter turned to him. “Look, I already get that this isn’t offloading cargo. What are we trying to sneak out of here? Don’t get me wrong”, he said quickly, “I’m down, but I want to know the details. I hate being out of the loop.” Abe turned to Sam, and Sam shrugged.

“Might as well… he’ll know shortly after we start, anyway.” Sam swore, a muttered Dammit! to himself, glared once more at Abe, and finally relented.

“Ok, Peter, here’s what’s actually going down,” Abe began, setting down the beignet and standing up to pace. “We are, that is, Sam and me… we’re going to correct a mistake. Sam and I, along with others, have had the opportunity in the past to waylay some ill-gotten goods from some very bad dudes, and that is what we are going to do tonight.”

“Like, something that was stolen?” Peter looked exasperated.

“Abe, for God’s sake, just tell him!” Sam said, equalling Peter’s impatience. Abe held his hands up empty. He couldn’t find the words, so Sam turned to Peter and laid it out. “Look, Peter. There are girls, thirteen of them, ranging in ages from twelve to fourteen, and they are being shipped to a very bad man. We are going to rescue them and get them home. That is what you are assisting with here.”

Peter looked stunned. “Why are there girls in your cargo hold, Sam? Who the hell do you work for?” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he stood up suddenly. “Show me,” he said.

Abe turned to Sam, “Did you really have to say that? Now he’s just going to worry!” Abe snatched at a beignet and chomped angrily.

“His skin is as much in this game as ours now, chief. He needs to know why and what happens if we fail.”

Human trafficking, Peter thought. Sex slavery! He’d heard of it, but never come across it, and definitely wasn’t expecting it. These girls would not come to any harm if he had any say in it, and, apparently, he did. He sat down next to Abe and Sam, determined, and said to the pair of them, “Okay, here’s what we are going to do.”