The Fallen and the Elect by Jerry J. K. Rogers

Author:Jerry J. K. Rogers [Rogers, Jerry J. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: angels, mystery, conspiracy, angel, fallen angels, eulogies, rapture happened whats next, angel and demon, priest and nun, funeral services, elect angels
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Alder faced his choice when he dropped by the Goat's Beard tavern before heading home and diving into the anticipated argument; should he grab either a couple of sodas or a couple of shots to help numb his emotions. Going home after drinking alcohol might not be such a good idea. No matter what he did to mask the smell emanating from his breath or through his sweat, she knew he’d been drinking. He was well aware Maria knew about his beers earlier at the park. Somehow, she would be able to gauge if he had had any additional alcohol. Alder didn't know that she had learned that his eyes lost a bit of their brightness, as they became more blood shot the more he drank.

Thinking through his choices, stopping by the tavern at all wouldn't be a good option. No matter how much he wouldn't want to transition from soda to a harder beverage, he knew his willpower was nil. It was best just to head straight home. Alder wasn't sure why; the drinks normally won out, but not this time. Traffic was again surprisingly heavy for a Saturday evening with the main highway home shut down for more than an hour.

Arriving at the house, pulling into the driveway, the urge caught up with him to back the Nissan up, head down the street, and drive the two miles back to the tavern. He knew that if Maria happened to see him pull up or pulling away, that would be three infractions to contend with. He shut the engine off. Walking up to the front door, Alder took two deep breaths before inserting the key and opening. Only a single living room lamp was turned on; all the other lights were off. The early evening twilight through the living room window provided subtle, soft, illumination. Maria sat on the couch, but she didn’t look furious or have her standard demeanor of trying to hold back a torrent of rage. Instead, she appeared distressed; her bronze Latina skin clammy. Alder knew something was wrong. He risked heading over to the couch to sit next to her.

“Honey, what's wrong?” he asked in a tone of genuine concern, successfully communicated to his wife.

“I don't know,” Maria responded, the shakiness of fear in her voice.

“Everything all right?” Alder asked, “Where are the kids?”

“They’re upstairs taking a late nap.”

“Then what’s wrong? You look upset.”

She paused before answering, “It’s Michelle.”

“Is she all right? What happened?” Alder asked in near panic. Maria was comforted by Alder's concern.

“She was upstairs playing earlier and I caught her climbing on the tall dresser trying to get to my makeup and perfume to play grown-up make-believe. Her friend is a year older, so Michelle wanted to be older. Well, I told her not to do that again. I heard the buzzer on the dryer letting me know a load was done. I started to go downstairs when I heard her scream and a crash; I thought there was a flash of bright white light behind me.

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