What Would Satan Do_ - Anthony Miller [74]
“Did you get shot?” Eli pointed at the front of Satan’s shirt, which had a nasty blood stain down the front.
The Devil fingered the hole, pulling the fabric to the side. “I don’t know,” he said. His body ached, and the spot on his skin under the bullet hole felt rough and hot to the touch. But there was no blood and no wound. In fact, he seemed to be just fine.
Eli leaned over, offering Satan a hint of the olfactory bouquet that was the result of a long-standing estrangement from showers and bathing generally. “Yeah,” he said. “Looks okay to me.”
Eli stood, looked around here and there, and kicked at the ground with his toe. It wasn’t clear to Satan whether the man was attempting to extract an irritating pebble from his footwear or responding poorly to something the ground had apparently said to him.
“It’s very bright,” said Satan. He was starting to sweat and wished that the breeze would quit fucking around with that paper and put itself to good use.
“Yes. Yes it is,” said Eli, nodding. He stared off into the middle distance in the manly way of someone who has just received a bit of well-stated wisdom. “It is indeed.”
“I had a car,” said Satan, remembering out loud. “I loved my car.”
“I had one too, once,” said Eli, commiserating again.
Satan sat up. “Do you know what happened to it?”
“Well, no, I can’t remember. But it was a nice car,” said Eli helpfully. He looked at Satan’s tailored suit. Even though it was dirty and torn to pieces, it still was an extraordinary fit and looked damned sharp. “Where are you from?” he asked.
Satan hesitated, started to speak, and then stopped again. A look of shock – and maybe just a tiny bit of panic – came over his face. “I—” he started, but then stopped. He turned his pale face to look up at Eli. “I don’t think I know that.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it matters much. The world is about to end.” Eli picked up his sign.
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s true.”
Satan made a pensive face and looked down at that spot – off to the left, and maybe six inches or so off the ground – where people look when they’re pondering serious things. “That … is deeply troubling.” He pondered some more, and shook his head. “I’m not sure why, though.” He turned to look at Eli. “How do you know? How do you know the world is going to end?”
“Because, my friend, I am a prophet.” He placed one hand on his hip and, with the other one, made a sort of waving gesture. “It’s my job to know these things.”
“Ah,” said Satan. “Okay.”
“You should come with me.” Eli extended his hand, and pulled the Devil up.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Something tells me you should.”
Satan thought about it for a moment as he stood, swaying very gently in the non-existent breeze. “Okay,” he said. And they went.
Chapter 28. Ramón
“It’s such an odd picture,” said Lola. “None of it makes any sense.”
Liam shifted and swerved around a minivan full of lemmings. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“Whitford. Louisiana. The virus – or gas or whatever. Closing the borders. All that.”
“What borders?” asked Festus.
Lola turned to face the back seat. “Whitford has checkpoints at the Texas border and Louisiana border. They’re turning people away.”
Festus leaned forward. “So we couldn’t leave Texas if we—?”
“I’m not sure. It’s not like he issued a press release about it. I guess he’s just trying to keep out official government types while he consolidates power here.” Lola stopped, realizing that she was sharing privileged information with a weirdo who looked like Jesus – a homeless, vagrant version of Jesus.
“So,” said Liam. He flung the car around a curve, drifting slightly as he threaded between two slow-moving boring mobiles. It was an artful maneuver, but went largely