The Weapon - Resurrection - part 12
By Diana the Valkyrie
A morning in church
Update: 30/05/2003 to valkyrie05



That was just as well; it meant I could have a poke around beforehand. I found
McPherson, and asked if Wendy and I could meet with him after the service,
there was an important spiritual matter we needed to discuss. "By all means,
my son," he said. I'm not your son, I thought, and she certainly isn't your
daughter.

When I got back to Wendy, she was waiting for me just outside the church. We
went inside, and she lit a candle. Then she knelt down and started to pray.
"Please look after Duncan and comfort him, tell him I'll be with him as soon
as I can. Please tell him I've met this nice man who is going to try to help
me find Heaven, and I've made him a Korma, which I think he liked, and I've
also introduced him to Marmite. I've left the restaurant now, I'm staying with
David, because he worked out who I was, and he's asking me loads of questions
about everything, he's really interested. He wants me to go back to being the
Guardian of Humanity, but I still can't fly, so there's no chance of that,
even if I wanted to, which I don't think I do. What do you think I should do?
I wish you could tell me."

I felt like crying. She wasn't praying to God, not really. She was trying to
talk to Duncan, but she'd been told that it all had to go to God, so she was
talking to God, but the message was for Duncan. I suppose each of us makes our
own gods. I guessed that she'd been giving him an update on her life, every
day.

So I lit a candle, and knelt down next to her, and she looked at me as I
thought what I wanted to say. I kept it simple, there was really only one
thing I wanted. "Please give me the strength to help Wendy."

She helped me stand up; kneeling isn't something I'm used to, and we went into
the church together.

Over the next three hours, I was bored out of my gourd. How do they stand it?
I didn't understand most of it, I don't speak Latin, and the part that made
any sense at all was gibberish too. I tried thinking about Wendy's flight
problem; what could have removed her power of flight. The difficulty with
thinking about it, was that I didn't know what the mechanism was in the first
place, so how could I think about how it has broken? I'd have to ask her about
it.

And kneeling is really tough on your kneecaps, even when you use hassocks.

About two hours into the service, when it came to a point where everyone stood
up, I think the springs in my knees had gone. I just couldn't make it, or at
least I wouldn't without a major assist from Wendy. "Thanks," I whispered.
"S'OK" she whispered back. After that, each time we got down or stood up, I
felt Wendy's arm round what I laughingly call my waist, and taking most of the
load.

Then they came round with the Host, which is a sort of biscuit and some red
liquid, and "eat of the body and blood of the Messiah", so we ate the body and
blood of the Messiah, and the priest told us we were blessed. The blood tasted
like a rather cheap wine, the sort that you might call "I can't believe it's
not vinegar".

Eventually, we got a stern lecture about the fires of hell and what awaited
any miserable sinner unless he repented and was saved. Then the collection
plate came round, and Wendy put in a fistful of notes that looked like it was
her entire waitressing wages, and was going to be the lion's share of the
day's collection. I looked at her; she looked back at me. Well, she'd told me
that she didn't actually need it, and only worked as a waitress because that's
the sort of thing that people did. So I added a stunningly generous fiver
(academics don't exactly roll in the Riches of Croesus) and Wendy nodded at
me, so I guess she thought it was enough.

After everyone else had left, Father McPherson beckoned us to follow him. As I
followed, I turned to Wendy and twirled my finger in the air. She understood,
and I was immediately looking at The Weapon, in her impressive costume.

We found ourselves in what I can only call a vestibule; there was a small
desk, which he sat behind, and two chairs. I sat in one, Wendy took the other.
McPherson steepled his fingers, and said "Now, my son, what seems to be the
trouble?"

Some people one takes an instant liking to. Other people are, shall we say,
nasally insertible. I glanced at Wendy, and started. "First of all, I'd like
to introduce this lady to you." "Yes, that's Wendy McRae, she's part of my
flock." Totally nasally insertible. "Look at her costume," I explained. "She's
The Guardian of Humanity, the person who was doing all those good works a few
decades ago." I wanted him to be thinking "Good person", not "Soulless
weapon". He tilted his head on one side. "She's Wendy McRae. It's a nice
costume, but she's still Wendy McRae. How are things at the shop, Wendy?"
"Restaurant," I corrected, "she's a waitress at an Indian restaurant." "Oh
yes," he lied, "I remember now. How's the job, Wendy?"

She looked at me. We'd agreed that I'd do all the talking. "She's left the
restaurant." "Oh, got a better job now?" "No, she's unemployed now, except
she's helping me a bit." "Oh, that's a shame," he replied, "still, a good girl
like you, you'll get another waitressing job soon."

Good girl. Dammit! She's a bit more than a "good girl".

"Look, what I wanted to talk to you about was Heaven." "And Hell," he reminded
me. "Yes. Well, anyway, she was, er, sort of married." Oh damn, she wasn't
actually married to him, they were living in sin as the saying goes. How could
she get married to him, the church didn't recognise her as marriageable, you
have to be a human being to get married in church. "And the man she was, er
living with, Duncan McRae, he died, and now he's in heaven, and she's been
pining for him for the last 23 years." "Maybe," he said. "What?" "Maybe he's
in heaven," he said, "it's not for us to judge these things, that's the
prerogative of Almighty God. But if he was living in a state of sin with her,
then he might not be in heaven, he might have gone to hell."

I didn't have time to register shock, Wendy beat me to it. "NOOOOO!!!" she
screamed, and ran out of the room. She didn't bother to open the door as she
left, so McPherson and I was left staring at the pile of firewood she'd
reduced it to.

I wanted to hit him. I'm not a violent man. Show me a fight, and I'll leg it
in the opposite direction. But this dickhead had just told Wendy that Duncan
was suffering the eternal torments of hell. She'd been in a terrible state
when she thought he was in heaven and she couldn't look after him; now I
couldn't begin to imagine what was going on in her mind. I looked at
McPherson.

"You fool," I said. "You unbelievably crass and vicious bastard. If you ever
did stand a chance of heaven, you just blew it with that remark. You just told
her that her own true love is in hell, and it's her fault that he's there. I
hope you don't realise the pain you just caused, because if you don't, then
you won't repent, and you'll be punished by God."

"It's not for us to judge," he repeated. My fist clenched, and was attracted
more strongly to his nose than Newton's apple was to the ground. With an
effort, I restrained myself, and explained in more detail what he'd done.
"That, my son, is The Weapon, the Guardian of Humanity. She made the sun go
out once, did you read about that? She has more power than a nuclear bomb, and
you've just taken away what little hope she had. You call yourself a shepherd
of men? You're a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're supposed to give hope and
comfort, not take away what shred of hope people have managed to cling to."

"But it's true, if they've been living in sin, then ..."

"True? You believe a mess of mysterious myths and you call it truth? You don't
even know the meaning of the word. And here's three more words you don't know
- compassion, sympathy and humanity." I stood up and stalked out through the
hole that Wendy had made. There was no point in staying any longer. The only
thing I could have done at this point would be to collide my fist with his
face, and that wouldn't help Wendy.

No.

Dammit.

This will just take a moment.

I am not a violent man, but sometimes one has to make an exception.

. . .

I wiped his blood off my fist. I was right, it hadn't helped Wendy, but it
made me feel a bit better.

Where was she? I jumped into the car and sped off home. I ran round the rooms
quickly, but she wasn't there. Damn. She could be anywhere. Well, not
anywhere, her inability to fly would probably mean that she was somewhere in
London. But London is a big, big city. I didn't stand a chance if I just
hunted at random.

Where might she have gone? I tried to think myself inside an alien mind; it
didn't work. I still didn't know how she thought. Would she be suicidal?
Maybe. That thought didn't help my mood much, it just made me feel even worse.
Because now I had a chance to stop and take stock, I couldn't help but blame
myself for this mess. It had been my idea to set up that meeting with
McPherson.

I had to stop that line of thought, it was just self-flagellation, it wasn't
helping her. Where could she have gone? Think, man, you're supposed to be able
to do that, remember?

OK, I can't think like her, so maybe I can apply simple logic. She's spent 23
years trying to find out where heaven is so she can be with Duncan. Now she
thinks he's in Hell, and suffering all the torments, so she wants to find out
where Hell is, and she's in a hurry. OK, so if I wanted to know where Hell
was, where would I go?