Chapter 22: Scout General
1247 Words
“That b***h is taunting us!” Dina shrieked, completely losing her cool, “with our dead comrades, no less.”
Zachariah dismissed Samson, who was only happy to leave, and faced Dina, “Calm down, Dina.”
Dina's eyes shot fire at Zachariah, “Do not tell me to calm down, Zachariah!”
“Hey!” Zachariah countered, “I'm not the enemy here. Moreover, you raging and ranting in my office won't solve anything.”
Dina was shocked into silence. In all her days of knowing Zachariah, he had never raised his voice at her. She was usually the one doing the shouting, while he tried his best to placate her.
A second later, Zachariah hit his palm on his face with a groan, “I'm sorry, Dina. I didn't mean to shout at you.”
“No,” Dina replied gravely, “what you said was true. Me shouting at you will change nothing, absolutely nothing.”
Zachariah nodded, “We have to come up with a plan to show them that we won't take their insults lying down.”
Dina smiled, “I'm glad you want this too. Actually, I have a plan.”
Zachariah's face brightened, “I love your plans. Let's hear this one.”
“We attack—”
“No,” Zachariah interrupted vehemently, “I know what you want to say, and over my dead body.”
“But—”
“The answer is no, Dina!” Zachariah exhaled, “I know you're so mad right now, but you can't just attack Beelzebub's castle. We don't have enough men. It's just a suicide mission!”
Dina gazed at Zachariah disappointedly, “Did you really think I'd put the small number of soldiers we have in danger by suggesting an offense as ridiculous as attacking Beelzebub's castle?”
“Well, er, uh— it seemed like you were going to say that,” Zachariah stuttered, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment.
Dina shook her head in disbelief, “I was going to say we stage an attack and recover the Outpost from the demons, and in so doing, stop them from recruiting more soul soldiers!”
Zachariah mulled over the idea for a while as he paced his office. After a while, he stopped and looked at Dina, “It makes a lot of sense.”
“Of course it does,” Dina replied, “but before we can press an attack, we need to send a scout, to find out how many men and weapons we are going to need.”
“That's right too,” Zachariah agreed.
“I volunteer to go as a scout,” Dina said solemnly.
* * *
Gabriel exited the training arena, wiping sweat from his face. Dina had left him and Duncan approximately an hour ago, and he was damn tired if grappling with Duncan. The man took everything to be a competition, just like Gabriel. They had taken turns disarming and throwing each other to the floor until Gabriel had asked to call it quits fir the day.
Duncan had called him a weakling and sauntered out. Gabriel had ignored him, too tired to rise to the bait.
On his way to his dorm, Gabriel was so exhausted he bumped into someone.
“Oh my Gosh! I'm so sorry!” the person apologized fervently.
Gabriel looked at the person, and it turned out he had collided with a middle-aged man with a balding head and the beginnings of a paunch. His white robes were torn and dirty. Gabriel wondered what that was about.
The angels in the academy were numerous enough that Gabriel did not know all their names, but he was able to remember many faces. His memory drew up a blank for the fidgeting man in front of him.
“Are you new here?”
The man nodded, “My name is Samson Geta. I died last week.”
The man was a recent transitioner, Gabriel thought. Knowing how disoriented he had felt after his own transition, Gabriel eyed the man with pity, “Hang in there, Samson. The Afterlife can be pretty intimidating, but you'll soon get the hang of it.”
“I hope so,” Samson smiled sadly.
Gabriel was about to resume his walk to his room to get much needed rest when Samson called him back, “Sorry to disturb you, but you look very familiar. Have I seen you before?”
Gabriel shook his head, “You're new here, so there's no way you know me.”
“What's your name?”
“Gabriel Sinator.”
“Gabriel Sinator? Of the Sinator billions?” Samson exclaimed. He looked he wanted to fall at Gabriel's feet and worship him.
Gabriel smirked. Finally, someone recognized him for the influential and powerful man he was, “Yes, that Gabriel Sinator!”
Samson slicked the little hair he had on head back and whistled, “Who would have thunk that I'd meet a Sinator?”
Samson's fawning brought back memories of Gabriel's time on earth, and the adoration and adulation that came with bearing the Sinator name. Gabriel briefly remembered his parents, his distant but nonetheless loving parents.
“How are Julian and Grace Sinator doing? Do you have any idea?”
“I don't know them personally, but from what I see on the news, they're holding up well. They cut back on attending functions and they have a charity named after you. I think it's to get orphaned children help.” Samson disclosed.
Gabriel felt tears sting his eyes. He missed his parents, it had taken Samson to see that. He knew his parents would put up a good front, but deep down they'd probably be heartbroken.
“Thanks,” Gabriel mumbled.
“Do they know that you're Gabriel Sinator?” Samson asked curiously, “or are you doing that thing where a rich guy pretends to be poor so as not to attract attention?”
Gabriel laughed, “They know who I am, they just don't care.”
* * *
“No way, Dina!” Zachariah snarled, hitting his fist on his table.
“I have made up my mind, Zachariah. It's no use protesting,” Dina held up her hand.
“You are a general, the leader of our army!” Zachariah cried.
“So? Is it below my paycheck to act as a scout?”
“No! Do not misunderstand me,” Zachariah tried to explain, “What if you get caught, what happens? You're too valuable an asset to lose.”
“If I get caught,” Dina said obstinately, “there are many people who can take up my mantle. There's you, there's Gabriel, there's—”
“There's no one as good as you, Dina.” Zachariah said, tried to get Dina to see reason, “the angels would be lost without you, I would be lost without you.”
The last part of Zachariah's statement hung in the air for a full minute before Dina stated, “Stop trying to guilt-trip me into staying, Zachariah. There's nothing you can say that'll make me change my mind.”
Zachariah lowered his head and sighed in defeat, “I know, believe me, I know.”
“Good,” Dina stated, for some reason, feeling strangely disappointed that Zachariah had stopped protesting.
“So, what can I do to help you?” Zachariah asked.
“Pray for me.”
- Writer
