Clerical

Chapter Four

Hopping off the number 67 bus in his spiffy new threads, Barry finds himself back in his old neighbourhood. His suspiciously blood stained I love London jumper and bright orange skinny jeans garner a few strange looks as he makes his way down the road.

Even with the few turning heads, he is for the most part invisible as per usual. This is the London he knows; nobody really gives two shits about the person next to them until they die. Hence the circus of reporters outside the ruins of the café.

Barry stops to take in the scene of the crash, police and forensic teams are still inside what remains of his place of work. It's truly a sight of devastation, and with the bus removed it's easy to see the damage that has been caused by the accident. The front wall is completely collapsed, and the flats above are just about clinging on to the crumbling foundations. The building is surely condemned but to Barry, it always felt doomed anyway. It was a place of misery, loneliness, and crap food. He won't particularly miss it, but it was a damn sight better than the plethora of cereal bars and other hipster nonsense that's popping up all over his neighbourhood, and even though she was a miserable old sod, he will miss Daph: She was the most real person Barry knew.

He tries not to think about it in any more depth as he walks past, his flat is only a short walk away. Soon he can crawl into his bed, have an oversized glass of gin, and sink back into his life of meaningless existence.

After another ten minuets of steady walking Barry reaches his building on the high street. Shop fronts dominate the area, florists, bakeries, and pharmacies to name a few. It’s an old school high street, one that is surely soon to be taken over by Starbucks and Gin bars advertising "the best burger in London". It's noisy with the sounds of traffic, and has that distinct smell of car fumes & drains that a heavily populated area gets in waves.

Barry enters his crumbling front door to the side of a busy nail salon, he can hear the chatter and laughter from the gaggle of customers inside. He wonders if the shock of what happened at the cafe has already worn off, or this is just the way a community deals with it; he’s never really felt apart of the community, so he certainly can't tell.

He turns the key in his flat door and enters. Something seems different as he shuts the door behind him. He's always felt a little alone in his world, but this time the bleakness of his loneliness really hits him, there's really nobody alive that would have known, or cared that he died. Regardless of these feelings, it's not something he can't drown away in booze very shortly. All he wants is to pour a drink and put this whole s**t-show behind him.

His flat is fairly large for the area, but a little run down. The pebble dashed wallpaper is nicotine stained and falling off in places, with the damp on the walls showing its neglect in places. The furnishings are old, stained, and just as tatty as the wallpaper. But it's Barry's home. A home he's very fond of.

He takes a walk into his living room and plops himself down on the sofa. The second he sits down, a familiar voice echoes from his kitchenette.

"Ey up, chuck."

Barry jumps to his feet and looks towards his rusty conjoined kitchen to find the same brown-haired freak who terrified him in the hospital. The man is sitting calmly on his kitchen counter eating some grapes: his grapes.

Barry takes a deep breath and groans loudly.

“Right then. That's it then.”Barry says rubbing his hands through his greasy hair.

He walks to his home phone on the end table and picks it up.

“What you doin'? The man asks playfully.

“I'm calling the hospital to have myself sectioned, because I've clearly lost my mind.”

“No, you're not. Phone doesn't work, bud.”

Barry puts the phone to his ear, and quickly realises that there's no dialling tone.

“What the f**k?”

“I cut the line. Sorry, but I got the impression you might overreact. Who has a home phone these days anyway?”

Barry puts the phone down gently. He clears his throat, throws his hands on his hips and looks in the air. Willing to humour whatever it is that's going on.

“So what exactly are you then? A hallucination? Some sort of fight club-esque figment of my imagination?” Barry looks the man right in the eyes.

The man jumps down off the counter.

“Come on, Barry, no spoilers. And no, I’m not a hallucination, and you've not gone mad. My names Gabriel. I'm an angel. Not that Gabriel, like, but I am an angel named Gabriel.”

Barry lets out a very sarcastic noise of approval.

“Ok, I'm glad we've cleared that up. You're an angel, are you? Awesome. And, I'm supposed to blindly believe that am I?”

Gabriel throws the last of his grapes into his mouth and dusts off his hands. He sticks his hands out and motions while he chews and swallows.

“Sorry, bit peckish. It's been a long day. Well, I can prove I am who I say I am, if you like?”

Barry laughs at the nonsense he's hearing, to him it's very clear that he's had a breakdown of some kind. Gabriel walks towards him and puts his hands on his shoulders. He looks him square in the eyes.

“Stay very still.”

“Ok. Let's see it then.”

Gabriel punches Barry right on the bridge of his nose. He falls backwards onto the floor with a loud grunt, grasping his broken nose as it gushes blood.

He writhes around on the floor like a shot deer, except with a bit more swearing. The pain is indeed very real.

Gabriel crouches down next to him, shushing his pained cries. He places his hands around Barry’s shattered nose and closes his eyes. Barry kicks him off and with a swift pounce manages to climb on top of the angel, raising his fist to give the bugger a sock back. The anger in his bloodshot eyes is telling, but it immediately washes off him when he realises that his broken nose has been completely healed.

Barry is frozen solid with disbelief, and a billion different concepts of what just occurred go through Barry’s mind. When this angel “healed” him in the hospital, he could put it down to the drugs, but this? This is much harder to grasp.

Barry rushes to his feet and runs to his bathroom mirror, which is cloudy with old grime. He spends a few moments looking at his nose, inspecting it thoroughly for any damage. Wet blood still congeals around his face. He wipes some off with his finger and tastes it. The distinct coppery taste confirms to him that it indeed blood, real blood.

“Bloody nora”He says through his wide-open mouth.

This changes everything, but a part of Barry is still not completely convinced. It's all too surreal and unbelievable. It shakes everything Barry believes to be true to the very core, and all he can really do is question everything. There’s every chance that he just can't accept it, for the outlandish nature of it all is just too much for his mind to handle.

Gabriel walks up behind him and talks to him via the mirror.

“Sold?”

“Not really.”

“A hallucination can't punch you in the face, and a burglar can't heal it. What more do I have to prove?”Gabriel raises his arms aloft and slaps them down in frustration. “Take a shower, get yourself out of those crappy togs, and come meet me in the living room.”

Barry nods. Still looking himself over in the mirror. Gabriel pats him on the shoulder as he walks away.

Barry spends the best part of 20 minutes in the shower. The past day or so have really taken their toll; with all the drama of 'heaven', the bedrest, and the dead guys clothes he's wearing he stinks like a skip on a hot summers day. It’s a good shower, one of those showers that cleans his soul as well as his pits, and for a brief moment everything feels normal again.

Walking back into the living room after completing the three S ritual, he's greeted with a warm cup of tea, and Gabriel summoning him to sit next to him on the sofa. That fleeting moment of normality has well and truly passed by.

Barry is still a little uncertain to the reality he's experiencing. He's not overly convinced that he's completely sane, but with nothing better to do, he might as well hear this guy out. If anything, it's at least someone to talk to, real or not.

Barry takes a seat on the sofa and shuffles uncomfortably on the overused piece of furniture. Gabriel is more than relaxed, and is seated like a celebrity on a talk show with his legs crossed and arms spread out.

“Well go on then, you must have some questions for me.” Gabriel probes.

Barry curls his lip, rolls his eyes back, and takes a moment to think.

“You’re an angel?”He asks accusingly. "From heaven? So the whole god/devil heaven/hell thing is all real?”

“You tell me, you've been there.”

“It wasn't exactly what I was expecting to be honest.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Most folk seem to be expecting harps and winged angels as they float to the pearly gates.”Gabriel laughs.“They don't expect tweedled dee and tweedle-f*****g-dum to greet them in the flippin' sales office.”

“It's always been like that?”

“No! No it used to be real! It used to have a proper feel to it but, things changed a few decades ago that really stuck a turd in the fuel line.” Gabriel leans forward. “It used to be simple. You die, you go up to receive judgement, you get a little cabin to spend eternity in heaven feasting and doing whatever you want. Real old school too, pretty…. Judgemental rules to decide if you get in. By god was it slow though. We had folk waiting years to get inside. I mean, especially during times of war or famine. Jesus, it was awful. Don't even get me started on World War 2, goodness me, they couldn't keep up. Long and short of it was, there was only one man in charge of the whole thing, you know, the big man. And believe me, you do not argue with that man, he doesn't take criticism well. So, a group of the angels got together and decided that we wanted a new system in place that made the judging of people a little faster and more modernised. Less Sodom and Gomorrah , more indicative of the times you know.”

Barry takes a sip of his tea.“Go on.”

“So, we all get together and are like‘hey, look man, we think there's a bit of a problem, we've got all these people waiting who've frankly led pretty decent lives and it's taking us so long to clear the backlogs, why don't we use these new computer things the mortals have invented to speed things up. And, come on, give them a little bit of break.’He seemed keen 'cos he's actually a really forgiving guy at times, but some of the angels took it too far and tried to dethrone the guy. So a couple of guys got banished forever into the fires of hell and what not so we decided that the time was right to intervene, so to speak. It took a while, but we managed to get an elected government to work under the big man so he wasn't so stressed all the time. That pleased the more radical guys on our side, and kept him happy in power.”

“Hang on. Are you telling me you and some other angels had some kind of religious revolution?”Barry chuckles at the absurdity of it.

“I guess you could say that, aye.”Gabriel throws his hands up defensively. “He's still in charge, yeah? No-ones questioning that, we just decided that we should modernise. A lot like a constitutional monarchy. Oh, and he’s much happier now, you know. He can relax a lot more and he still gets all the praise down here on earth. It's a win-win. He was so worried about upsetting the hardcore believers down here, so we took that out of his hands and do the work for him.”

“So if its all gravy up there, what are you doing here with me?”Barry scowls.

Gabriel clears his throat. “Well. Thing is, chuck. Things got a little… out of hand after a few years. Some people got a little greedy and corrupt with power. I didn't like where they were going with it, we had a disagreement, and I got thrown out on my arse.” Gabriel stands up. “What happened to you wasn’t an accident, Barry, it’s not just a‘Clerical error'. Things are going on up there that could bring the whole system to its knees. And you're the key to putting it right.”

Gabriel looks Barry right in the eyes.

“But to do that, you have to let me enter inside you.”

Barry gets up off his seat and stares at Gabriel. He bursts out laughing uncontrollably, and without looking back walks out of his flat, slamming the door behind him.