Little Orange at the End of the World

Chapter 1

So, Siana said, How long has your mom been the devil?"  She was clearly shaken by The Underground.

She’s not the devil, replied Sam, Baldy is the devil, and he’s only been on the job a few weeks.  Before that it was The Doctor, whom you haven’t met.  Hey, Juliette, you have a zombie right behind you!

Mom’s more like the Queen of Limbo, Juliette added, thumbing the video game controller.  The zombie on the TV blew into gobbets.  Damn, I’m telling you, the shotgun rules in this game.

Okay, how long has she been the Queen of Limbo, then?

Well, that depends on how you look at it.  In Earth years, probably 30 years or so.  In The Underground, it’s been a lot longer.  Time works funny there.  It goes backwards and forwards. Sam answered.

Isn’t that a little weird?

Not as weird as some jobs, Juliette replied, Aw crap!  A lurking zombie in the video game had surprised and killed her.  She could be an accountant or something.

And so there’s this big war between angels and other things?

Kind of, Sam answered, I’m not really sure what’s going on, other than Mom is trying to piss God off.

Um, why would she do that?

Because she’s trying to get his attention, Juliette replied, And he doesn’t seem to be responding to this, either.

What about those weird priests that tried to kill us?

Mom says they’re working for the Black Cardinal.

Are we ever going to be able to go back upstairs?

Once it’s safe, sure.  Until then, we stay here.  Mom’s going to need our help soon, she says.

Doing what?

Mostly acting like a home base.  Manning the radio, so to speak.  Juliette and I do it all the time.  There’s no reason you shouldn’t.

For real?

For real for real.  It’s not like everyone and their grandmother hasn’t shown up here recently.  It’s almost like there’s more live people than dead people here, these days.

It’s weird thinking of the afterlife as just another place.

Not really, Sam replied, The regular world is weird.  Why would the afterlife be any different? Anyway, let's see what's going on in Boston.

He booted up the laptop, and they watched events as they unfolded.

Boston

Pete sat at his desk, preparing for yet another meeting. He often wondered how American society functioned, given that everyone was in meetings all day (except when they were preparing for meetings.)  He was getting to the point where he was one jargon-loaded sentence away from mayhem.  Making a decision, he went to his manager’s office.

Hey, boss.  I need to take a half-day.

His boss looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.  It’s Friday, Pete.  You know how busy we are.

Boss, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

Yeah, yeah, okay.  It’s not like anything actually productive is going to occur.  Go on, then.

Pete walked to the elevator, singing Elton John’s Tiny Dancer under his breath.  It was the perfect day to play hooky from work in Boston.  The sun was out, it was a glorious 65 degrees, and the streets wouldn’t be too crowded. 

The elevator doors opened, and Pete stepped in.  A bald guy in a very expensive suit was in the elevator.  He seemed to have some kind of skin condition. Scaly, almost.  The man smiled at him, displaying a larger than normal amount of teeth.

How are you doing, Pete? the man asked.

Do I know you?

No, not yet.  But we’re going to be great friends.

Oh, boy.  Every once in a while, you ran into a loon in Boston.  Didn’t matter where you were, they’d find you everywhere.  Best to humor the man.  If you say so.

The door chimed open in the lobby, and Pete walked quickly toward the lobby doors.  The bald guy kept pace with him.

Let’s you and I take a walk, shall we? the bald man said, We have a great deal to discuss.

I have a very important appointment to get to, I’m afraid.

You are taking the day off because you can’t handle those assholes upstairs any more today.  Your appointment is with a glass of beer, at the bar around the corner.  That will do fine, I shall join you.  In fact, the drinks are on me.

Just who the hell are you?  The Securities & Exchange Committee?  I haven’t done anything wrong, and I don’t know of anyone who has.

You haven’t done anything wrong? The bald man giggled a bit, That must make you unique among humans.  A regular Francis of Assisi.  A paragon, no less.  In any case, you and I will have a conversation.  We can do it friendly like, or we can do it the hard way.

Are you SEC?

No.  Your day would be far more pleasant if it was.  In any case, I shall buy the drinks in a public place.  What harm can that do?

It can screw up my day off.

Odds are, the weird fellow said, It will screw up more than that.

They were in fact approaching the bar.  Pete shrugged, and led the way in.  They sat down at one of the tables, and ordered a pitcher of beer.  The place was more or less empty, and the pitcher arrived immediately.

Okay, whoever you are, what do you want with me?

Perhaps you have heard of odd goings-on out West?

How could you miss it?  Dinosaurs all over the place, some kind of terrorist attack in Tucson or something.  That what you’re talking about?

Precisely.  The sad fact of the matter is that something very similar is going to go down here, very shortly.

What?  When?

In about 4 hours.  I would advise you to call your wife right now, and have her visit friends in another city.  Providence should be far enough.  She can take the train.

You’re crazy.

The bald guy smiled wide.  Impossibly wide.  Pete could see row after row of teeth, like a shark.  He sat frozen in terror.

That, said the bald man, Is an opinion shared by many.  Nevertheless, you should call.  Now.  This will save your wife’s life.  Then, to make up for this unwarranted kindness on my part, you will help me in minimizing the impact on your fair city.  Now make the fucking call.  The man’s skin seemed to get redder as he spoke.

Pete fumbled with his phone, and speed-dialed his wife.  After a few rings, she picked up.  Hello?

Honey, you have to get out of town now.  This minute.  Get on the purple line to Providence.

Pete, what are you talking about?

Look, honey, I just found out that what happened in Tucson is about to happen here.  I need you to get on that train.  You have less than four hours.

What about you?

I’ll catch up.  Meet me at Richard’s house.  Please, just trust me.  Go.  And don’t spread this around until you’re on the train.  I don’t want you getting caught in a panicked crowd.

The bald man looked at him with approval, and nodded.

"Pete, what