The walls had been whispering for nearly two hours. Not whole words. At least, not yet.\n<\/p>\n
It was a low-pitched wail, a cry for help, that beat against the paper-thin plaster of the townhouse and trickled through the air vents, the windows, the floorboards, the crawlspace that Diego used to hide in as a child, when his mother and father were still unhappily married. The more that he listened, the more that the voice gained substance in the quiet. Out. It wanted out. It begged for an escape. The walls were no place for the soul of a god.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMom!\u201d yelled Diego. \u201cCome up here, quick!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Clothes hangers falling, the wham of a suitcase slamming on the floor. Then his mother\u2019s voice as she crawled into the attic. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
Diego put a caramel finger to his lips. He tapped on the wall that they shared with their neighbors, and they knelt. Listened.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cShit,\u201d she whispered. \u201cAnother one, already? No wonder the Garcia\u2019s left so quickly.\n<\/p>\n
Just ignore it, Diego.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cBut it\u2019s dying,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you think you can stop that? How about the Alvarez\u2019s, could you have helped them? People separate from their god all the time, and we don\u2019t want the DRP thinking it\u2019s us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego reluctantly peeled from the wall. He let the god\u2019s voice fade into the darkness, and he followed his mother down the ladder from the attic.\n<\/p>\n
She fixed him with an eye that was as dark as his own. \u201cHave you finished packing yet?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
He fumbled with a button that dangled from his shirt, that his mother had re-sewn a hundred times, rather than wasting any money on a tailor. Since his father had left, their budget had been tight. \u201cI don\u2019t want to go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I don\u2019t want to send you.\u201d His mother crossed her arms. \u201cYou think I want to fight in a war we didn\u2019t start? I was done with the army. Ten years is enough.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego shuffled back to the base of the ladder, his ear tilted up to the mutterings above. If they could hear Mrakau, or this piece of Mrakau, could the god hear them?\n<\/p>\n
He lowered his eyes. \u201cCan\u2019t I come with you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMijo,\u201d she said, cupping his chin. \u201cI wish that you could, but the barracks aren\u2019t a place for twelve-year-old boys.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
He already knew this. She had told him before. But the thought of leaving her\u2014his heart, his home, the life that they had built from the ashes of the past\u2014if only temporarily, felt decidedly wrong.\n<\/p>\n
Diego\u2019s face hardened. \u201cDo I have to stay with him?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
She knew who he meant: the corruptor, the defiler, the twice god-killer. Diego had never had a chance to meet his step-father. And that was intentional. \u201cThey\u2019ll take good care of you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Her bottom lip trembled as if it didn\u2019t believe her. \u201cMaybe I\u2019ve kept you apart for too long.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego tried to laugh, but it died in his throat. Five years was five too few, in his book.\n<\/p>\n
His mother checked her watch. \u201cNow, that\u2019s enough moping. Your plane leaves tomorrow, and you haven\u2019t even packed.\u201d She shooed him into his bedroom.\n<\/p>\n
The soul in the attic seemed to fester in her absence. It spoke to the soul that lived in his chest, the piece of Mrakau that he had been given at birth. What kind of a person would rip out their god-soul, stash it in the wall, and leave it there to die?\n<\/p>\n
He thought he knew of one. And he would see him soon.\n<\/p>\n
They went to the airport early the next morning. Norfolk International was already awake; the terminal was swarming with military personnel who had answered the call to defend their faith.\n<\/p>\n
He and his mother said goodbye at the gate. She cupped his chin, and she whispered a prayer to her son and to Mrakau. She even made the sign of the cross on her chest, as if that could have made any difference anymore. Old habits died hard. \u201cI love you, mijo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI love you too, mom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
And then, right before she watched him walk away, she grabbed his hand and squeezed three times. Once for strength. Once for luck. And once just in case she never came back.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The flight took six hours longer than expected\u2014not due to fuel or mechanical problems, but a raging fanatic who wouldn\u2019t shut up.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cRevolt!\u201d yelled the man, while two flight attendants tried to drag him down the aisle.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThe god of the Testament can still win the war! Down with the worm! Down with Mrakau!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Not so different from what they said on the streets. Mostly in whispers, yet some of the zealots were growing more emboldened. The kid beside Diego leaned over his armrest: \u201cI\u2019m not really sure if I can blame him, you know? It still feels kind of weird to worship a worm.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.\n<\/p>\n
The plane made a stop at Chicago O\u2019Hare in order to unload and summon the police; they handcuffed the man, who was kicking and screaming. Do we really need an animal to filter our souls? No, you fools! Think for yourselves!\n<\/p>\n
Then, unsurprisingly, the DRP came. Interrogations lasted for half the afternoon. What did he tell you? How did he behave? Did he mention anything about another attack? Diego knew well not to lie or deflect. To harbor any harm towards a god was illegal, especially to one that was injured and missing, and Diego was much too young to go to jail.\n<\/p>\n
By the time that he re-boarded the plane, it was dark out. They flew through a clear sky of moonlight and stars, and just when he started to fade into sleep, he caught his first glimpse of the City by the Bay, the gray strip of fog that hugged the peninsula. The view was spectacular, something from a movie.\n<\/p>\n
He clicked off the light and shut the window.\n<\/p>\n
San Francisco International was quiet when they landed. Most of the military had already left, and these days, tourists were all but absent. No one wanted to fly when the gods were at war.\n<\/p>\n
That left the baggage-claim carousel sparse. There were only two men sitting by it: his dads.\n<\/p>\n
One of them\u2014the one he didn\u2019t recognize\u2014grinned. A thick bar of dark hair hung on his lip, making up for all of what was missing on his head. He wore a floral button-up, open at the top, and his biceps popped. He was youthful, exuberant, despite his age. So very unlike the man at his side.\n<\/p>\n
Diego\u2019s father clung to a cane as he stood. His dark eyes sunken, his pale cheeks gaunt, he lacked the vitality that lived in his photographs. More of a shadow of a man, than a man. He didn\u2019t look anything like what Diego remembered.\n<\/p>\n
His step-father held out his arms when he approached. \u201cIt\u2019s so nice to finally meet you,\u201d he said, letting them hang when Diego backed up. \u201cI\u2019m Ezekiel, but you can call me Izzy for short.\u201d He grinned as if the two of them were the best of friends.\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t answer. He glared at his father, the man who had left him and his mother all alone. \u201cYou look different,\u201d he said. He didn\u2019t mean it as a compliment.\n<\/p>\n
Saul Rodriguez shrugged in response. \u201cIt happens,\u201d he said, as if making a joke.\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t laugh.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve missed you, mijo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego grabbed his suitcase. \u201cDon\u2019t call me that,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat,\u201d said Saul, \u201cI can\u2019t call you my son?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t answer.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d said Ezekiel. \u201cLet\u2019s get on the road; it\u2019s been a long day. Here, let me help you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Diego. He yanked away his suitcase.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about we stop for some dinner on the way? Feel like a burger?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego growled, \u201cI\u2019m vegan.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The awkwardness clung like a wraith as they left. It lingered as they picked up trays of Pad-Thai, drove down Taraval Street towards the ocean, and walked up the steps to a white-brick house.\n<\/p>\n
The first thing he noticed when he entered was the walls. They whispered like they had in the attic of his townhouse.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you had reinstated Mrakau,\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel froze. \u201cI did,\u201d he said, glancing over at Saul. \u201cBut sometimes, once you separate from a god\u2014even if you reinstate\u2014it leaves a residue.\u201d He rested his hand on the whitewashed wall. \u201cTry to tune it out. I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll get used to it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego allowed them to show him to his room. He unpacked and ate his tray of Pad-Thai alone. He didn\u2019t go back into the house to say goodnight, didn\u2019t want to face the god-killer again. As he turned out the lights, he locked the door, and he leaned into the wood.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel and Saul were talking in the hallway. And one thing crept through the din in the walls: his step-father\u2019s voice. \u201cDo you think we should tell him?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Whatever it was, neither of them did.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel woke up early the next morning; he was eager to talk about Diego\u2019s new school.\n<\/p>\n
Mission Dolores Academy wasn\u2019t far. He would take the L-train out to Castro Street Station, then walk a few blocks to Dolores Park. Saul was too tired, but Ezekiel could take him. Really, it was no problem, it would give them time to bond.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo thanks,\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
But Ezekiel wouldn\u2019t have it. \u201cCome on,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019ll be an adventure.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
So, he and the god-killer went out, alone.\n<\/p>\n
The city swept by in a fog-laced blur as the street-car jostled along down Taraval. In the distance, a horn blared, heavy and monotonous; it lasted for several long minutes, then faded.\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t ask, but his step-father answered. \u201cThat\u2019s the drill-horn, just in case something happens.\u201d Yet he didn\u2019t specify what that something could be.\n<\/p>\n
The train broke through a row of pastel houses, and the frame of a massive metal structure appeared, at the top of a hill that was covered in trees. It stabbed at the sky like a two-prong lance.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel pointed through the window of the street-car. \u201cThat\u2019s Sutro Tower. They say that right after the second prong was built, Mrakau could be seen climbing up to the top, his tail hanging all the way down to the ground, his snout peeking out through the dense wall of fog.\n<\/p>\n
They say that he would watch over the city for days.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego spun around, mouth hanging open. \u201cReally?\u201d he said, before catching himself.\n<\/p>\n
Lies\u2014those were all that his step-father told.\n<\/p>\n
By the time the train stopped and the two of them had walked several blocks from the station, their silence had returned, cold and uncomfortable. They came to a bustling street called Church\u2014without any churches\u2014but a building rose up from the side of the park, with a green-capped cupola and a tower with a bell. Mission Dolores Academy. Finally.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWalk on this side.\u201d Ezekiel stood between Diego and the park, and Diego resisted the urge to pull away. But then he saw the crowd, the army of signs, the policemen with plexiglass shields and batons.\n<\/p>\n
Someone from the crowd grabbed a microphone and yelled, \u201cThe old god will rise from the death of Mrakau!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel wrapped a strong arm around Diego. \u201cThey\u2019re just nervous,\u201d he said. \u201cDon\u2019t pay them any mind.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Aren\u2019t you nervous, too? Diego wanted to say. You extracted Mrakau, just like all of them. Restoring his soul doesn\u2019t make you a saint. But Diego stayed quiet.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel stopped at a set of stone stairs. He gestured for Diego to go inside. \u201cHave a good time. I\u2019ll be back this afternoon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego left him without saying goodbye.\n<\/p>\n
He walked up the stairs and into an auditorium, where a handful of children\u2014some older, some younger\u2014were gathered in the front row. He threw down his backpack and fell into a seat.\n<\/p>\n
The girl that was next to him didn\u2019t even budge. She picked at the corpse of a bracelet on her wrist, pink and blue threads in a crisscross pattern.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d said Diego, holding out his hand. \u201cI\u2019m Diego. I just moved here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t look up. \u201cWell, aren\u2019t you special.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that supposed to mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
But she didn\u2019t get to answer.\n<\/p>\n
The ceiling lights flashed. A woman stepped out from the curtains backstage; she was dressed in high-heels and a snug black dress-suit. She picked up a microphone and stood at the podium. \u201cWelcome,\u201d she said, \u201cto Mission Dolores.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The long row of children began to perk up.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that you\u2019re eager to get to your classrooms, but I wanted to take this opportunity to ground you.\u201d She paused and smiled. \u201cThe world today is in a state of unrest, and everyone here, in this room, is a victim\u2014of war, displacement, of undue violence to the true god, Mrakau.\n<\/p>\n
Some of your parents are fighting for justice. Some, unfortunately, are stuck in tradition, and they have been punished\u2014or will be, soon.\u201d She paused as a kid in the audience began to cry.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you are your very own tool for salvation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
A voice from the aisle: \u201cWhat can we do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The woman just smiled. \u201cI\u2019m glad you asked.\u201d She held up a thick wad of folded brochures. \u201cThe Deity Rehabilitation Project is a worldwide effort to help Mrakau. We still don\u2019t know how the heretics hurt him, nor do we know where he has gone to hide. But we do know this: evil is out there. Enemies surround us. Those that believe in the old-world order are eager to eliminate the god of today. And the more we can do to lend strength to Mrakau, the more of a chance that our god will survive.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Then the same kid said, \u201cI want to join!\u201d A ripple of high-pitched voices followed.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWonderful.\u201d The DRP representative beamed. \u201cEach of your teachers will have more details. We\u2019ll have our first meeting at the end of the week.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
She turned to walk away, but the girl by Diego raised her hand and stood up. \u201cI have a question.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The auditorium hushed.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s going to happen when Mrakau really dies?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Silence. All eyes returned to the stage.\n<\/p>\n
The DRP representative picked up her microphone. \u201cThat is not up for discussion,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Diego sank into the folds of his sheets, his phone in his hand.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMijo.\u201d His mother\u2019s voice, choppy with static. \u201cMijo, I miss you, it\u2019s so good to hear from you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI miss you too, mom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHow are they treating you? Is everything well?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego rolled over and muffled the phone as Ezekiel poked his bald head into the room.\n<\/p>\n
He carried a tray with a plate and utensils. \u201cWe made you some dinner,\u201d his step-father whispered. He threw a weak smile at Diego and left.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDiego?\u201d His mother. \u201cMijo, are you there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, mom, I\u2019m here. Everything\u2019s fine.\u201d He told her all about his first day of school, the protest in the park, the blaring of the drill-horn that smothered the city. \u201cIt was scary to see so many of them together.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d she said, \u201cthis\u2019ll all be over soon. Once we find Mrakau, you can come back home.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
But Diego wasn\u2019t sure that it would be that easy. If one god had fallen sick, couldn\u2019t another? The god of the Testament had withered away. The god that had taken its place had disappeared. And that wasn\u2019t counting Diego\u2019s own god, the one that had existed when his parents were married, the one that he had worshiped without needing a reason. \u201cA woman from the DRP came to our school. She wants me to go to an exploratory meeting.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cGo,\u201d said his mother, without hesitation. \u201cThe more we can do to end this, the better.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Diego arrived just in time for the meeting. He wasn\u2019t sure what good a sixth-grader could do, but he figured if his mother believed in him that much, he might as well try to avenge his family.\n<\/p>\n
All of the children from the auditorium were there; they were grouped around stations that were spread through the room. Some had speakers that played calming music, some had an anatomical replica of a worm, and some had tanks filled with actual worms. Though these worms were small, the length of his pinkie. Not nearly as thick or as long as Mrakau, and their skin didn\u2019t pulse with the osmosis of souls.\n<\/p>\n
He pressed both hands against the reinforced glass.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re sort of pretty, aren\u2019t they?\u201d The girl with the bracelet stood beside him at the tank. \u201cWe grew them at my last school. They\u2019re called microdriles.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d said Diego. \u201cYeah. They\u2019re cute.\u201d He grimaced as the tiny worms burrowed in the dirt. \u201cBut why are they here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The girl, whose tag on her shirt read Margo, let out a laugh. \u201cIsn\u2019t it obvious? To look for Mrakau.\u201d She put her hands on her hips. \u201cThe megadrile god?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego just blushed.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d said Margo. \u201cI know I can be harsh.\u201d She pointed at one of the caged microdriles. \u201cThese are just worms, but they\u2019re similar to Mrakau\u2014like humans and monkeys.\n<\/p>\n
So, the DRP uses them as vessels for our souls. They take a bit of the soul\u201d\u2014she tapped on her chest\u2014 \u201cthat Mrakau gave to us, and we train them to find their way back to the god. Wherever he\u2019s hiding.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego scrunched his face. \u201cHow do you know that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThis isn\u2019t my first DRP meeting,\u201d said Margo.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not?\u201d He thought back to the whispers in the walls. Of who had put them there.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d bragged Margo. \u201cMy old school had them. My foster parents wanted to make sure\n<\/p>\n
I joined; they said it would help to \u201cchannel my frustration\u201d.\u201d She curled her fingers into physical quotations. \u201cMy parents, they left when Mrakau was attacked. They joined the rebellion.\u201d She held up her wrist. \u201cThis was the last thing my mom made for me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d said Diego. He pictured his father and the man that he had married. Ezekiel was almost as bad as her parents.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyways,\u201d said Margo. \u201cYou can pick what you do here: training, anatomy, group prayer\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cTraining,\u201d said Diego. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to go home.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMy favorite!\u201d said Margo. \u201cNow, watch what I do.\u201d She placed one lime-green fingernail over her heart.\n<\/p>\n
Diego\u2019s jaw fell as a glossy white thread unspooled from her chest\u2014a piece of the god that lived in them both. She flung the soul-piece of Mrakau into the tank.\n<\/p>\n
It touched one of the worms. The thread disappeared. And then the worm charged like a bullet in the dirt. It stopped in front of Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI found you,\u201d said Margo, grinning triumphantly.\n<\/p>\n
Diego gaped. \u201cHow?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Margo poked him in the shoulder. \u201cBoth of us were born with a soul from Mrakau.\n<\/p>\n
Souls gravitate towards those that are like them. So, I used a piece of my god-soul to find yours.\n<\/p>\n
The worm was the car, I was the gas, and you were the blinking red dot on the map.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many times have you done this?\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, more than I could count.\u201d Margo started picking at the bracelet on her wrist. \u201cI thought I could use them to look for my parents. But that didn\u2019t work.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego frowned. \u201cWhy not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Margo just shrugged.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThey must have gone far.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWho cares,\u201d said Margo. \u201cI don\u2019t need them, and they don\u2019t need me. They showed me who they were when they didn\u2019t come back. You know anyone like that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego paused. He nodded.\n<\/p>\n
Margo grabbed her backpack. \u201cHey, that\u2019s okay, I don\u2019t need to know their name.\u201d She nodded at the woman on the other side of the classroom, the DRP agent who had summoned them there. \u201cYou tell her, and she\u2019ll take care of it. Whoever it is, they deserve it. Trust me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego waved as she left. He stood at the tank for a very long time, and he thought of what Margo had done. Of what she\u2019d said.\n<\/p>\n
You tell her, and she\u2019ll take care of it.\n<\/p>\n
And Diego wanted to do as much as he could.\n<\/p>\n
Later that afternoon, before he went home, he tapped on the shoulder of the woman at the chalkboard.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Five more days of awkward silence. Of meals in his room. Of torturous trips with\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel to school, just to be safe, in the growing unrest. Fights in the park were now routine, and his father and step-father didn\u2019t want him to get hurt.\n<\/p>\n
As if they actually cared.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about dinner with us?\u201d said Ezekiel. \u201cI tried out a lentil-loaf recipe online.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t move. He stared at his homework. \u201cI\u2019m busy,\u201d he mumbled. \u201cCan I just eat in here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWe thought it would be nice for us to all eat together. You know, as a family.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego cringed. \u201cNo, thanks.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
So, Ezekiel left.\n<\/p>\n
But dinner never came. When an hour had passed, and Diego\u2019s stomach growled, he decided he would rather take his chances than starve. He opened the door and crept towards the kitchen.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, look who it is,\u201d said Ezekiel, smiling. He and his father were seated at the table.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHungry?\u201d he said, and he offered a plate.\n<\/p>\n
Diego, reluctantly, grabbed it and sat.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cSo,\u201d said Saul. \u201cHow\u2019s school been?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you made any friends?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cOne,\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s nice,\u201d said Saul.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve noticed,\u201d said Ezekiel, wiping at his mustache. \u201cYou seem to be a big fan of one-word answers.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The three of them stared at each other in silence.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cAlright,\u201d said Ezekiel.\n<\/p>\n
Diego cut into the loaf on his plate; he took a first bite. It wasn\u2019t that bad, or as bad as it looked. Ezekiel grinned at him, chewing with pride.\n<\/p>\n
The silence stretched on.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDad,\u201d said Diego, the word tasting strange. Saul and Ezekiel froze mid-bite. \u201cWhat happened to you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
His father\u2019s hand shook as he set down his fork. \u201cNothing,\u201d he said. \u201cJust stress, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego considered. \u201cBecause of Mrakau?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
His father just sighed. \u201cIt\u2019s a bit more complicated.\u201d But he didn\u2019t elaborate.\n<\/p>\n
Then Ezekiel rose. \u201cWell, who wants dessert?\u201d From the kitchen, he brought back a tray of wedding cookies, a trickle of powdered-sugar falling behind him.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks,\u201d said Diego. Those had been his favorite for as long as he could remember.\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel patted him softly on the shoulder. \u201cAnd I saved you some dough. Your father said you liked it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego let a smile slip. He covered his mouth, but his father still saw.\n<\/p>\n
Saul smiled back. \u201cI know you miss home, but it\u2019s been wonderful having you. More than you can know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego didn\u2019t answer, but not from the flood of powdered sugar in his mouth. Another thing, that slid all the way from his stomach and settled, as heavy as an anvil, in his throat. It tasted like guilt.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
They came the next day.\n<\/p>\n
He suspected when Ezekiel didn\u2019t show up at school\u2014not when the bell-tower rang for three o\u2019clock, and the protesters gathered, and the drill-horn covered the city in a hum. By four o\u2019clock, Diego chose to walk home, alone.\n<\/p>\n
He started to worry. Would Ezekiel\u2019s absence really solve anything? Probably not for the world at-large. It was a small consolation for the damage he had caused.\n<\/p>\n
When he came to their house, the front door was open. The foyer, the living room, the kitchen was a mess. And the walls\u2014they were silent. The whispering god-soul was no longer there.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDad?\u201d he called. \u201cDad, are you there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
A noise from Saul and Ezekiel\u2019s bedroom: clothes hangers falling, a dresser drawer slamming.\n<\/p>\n
Diego jumped over a mirror on the floor, a chair that was missing all four of its legs.\n<\/p>\n
There were holes in the walls, as if someone had punched through and torn something out.\n<\/p>\n
When he came to the bedroom, the door was on its hinges.\n<\/p>\n
Diego\u2019s breath caught. \u201cWhy are you here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel wiped at his bloodshot eyes. He was slumped on the bed. \u201cHe\u2019s gone,\u201d he mumbled.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel paused. He looked at Diego, seeming to realize he wasn\u2019t alone. Then his step- father broke down and started to cry.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
They stood in the kitchen, facing each other.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would the DRP have come for my dad? It should have been you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel winced. \u201cHe didn\u2019t want me to tell you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me what?\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cYou noticed how frail, how weak, he had become?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego just nodded.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, that\u2019s a symptom, sometimes, of separation. When you take a god out and try to put it back in, it happens that the pieces don\u2019t fit like they used to. We tried, but your father\u2019s body couldn\u2019t accept it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would he do that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
His step-father whispered, \u201cI think you know the answer.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t want to say it, didn\u2019t want to admit it. His father was a god-killer, just like Ezekiel.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes that mean the two of you want Mrakau to die?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel spluttered. \u201cNo! Of course not! Your father separated when he left you and your mother, when he realized he wasn\u2019t the person he thought. He blamed it on Mrakau, for corrupting his soul. The same as I had done.\u201d Ezekiel sighed. \u201cI tried to convince him that Mrakau wasn\u2019t to blame, that society had guided him away from himself. We tried to reinstate, to put the god back in his chest. But it never fully worked. I think it was from all of the guilt that he carried.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Guilt. Diego knew too well what that felt like. \u201cSo, the soul in the wall wasn\u2019t yours. It was his. And now the DRP has him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, not exactly.\u201d Ezekiel kicked at a plate on the floor. \u201cSomehow, he got a heads-up that they were coming. He must have left after I took you to school.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThen he\u2019s probably nearby.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Ezekiel. \u201cHe should have gone as far and as quickly as he could. The DRP will hunt him. They\u2019ll use him as an example.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego\u2019s shoulders sagged. This was all his fault. Diego was as much of a god-killer as they were. He had murdered what was left of the illusion of their family.\n<\/p>\n
He pushed off from the counter. \u201cWe have to go find him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d said Ezekiel. \u201cI don\u2019t know where he went.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego started walking. \u201cI have an idea.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Margo was waiting as they stepped off the L-train. \u201cTook you long enough.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks for helping,\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo problem,\u201d said Margo, glaring at Ezekiel. \u201cThough I don\u2019t know why I should be helping one of them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
They hurried through a protest that had spilled into the Castro. When they came to the edge of the park, they stopped.\n<\/p>\n
A barricade of people was in front of the school. They stood with their arms linked, blocking the steps that led up to the auditorium.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cFollow me,\u201d said Margo. She shouldered her way into an older man\u2019s belly and bounced right back.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out of here, kid. The school\u2019s under lockdown.\u201d He squeezed against the people that were linked at his elbows.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cBut we need to get in!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The man didn\u2019t answer; he chanted along with the rest of the crowd. \u201cNo DRP! Down with the worm!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ezekiel pulled Margo back towards the street. \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t be here,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s getting out of control.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNo way,\u201d said Diego, \u201cwe\u2019re going inside.\u201d But when the three of them tried again, the blockade repelled them.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can find another way,\u201d said Ezekiel, panting. \u201cCome on, lets\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n
His voice disappeared. It was replaced by another, the wail of the drill-horn; it erupted from every street corner in the city, coating the Bay in a low-bass moan. A death-cry that drowned out everything else. It rose to an octave that Diego didn\u2019t recognize.\n<\/p>\n
And this time, it didn\u2019t stop.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Diego covered his ears.\n<\/p>\n
The line of rabble-rousers did exactly the opposite. They raised their arms and added to the chaos. \u201cDeath to Mrakau! Kill the false god!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
It seemed that the enemy had gotten its wish. Somewhere, the worm god was finally dead.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go!\u201d said Ezekiel, pulling on Diego. \u201cIf Mrakau is really gone, they\u2019re going to riot.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
His step-father was right. Plenty of people were frantically cheering. But just as many others in the park were distraught. They yelled, charged, fought in disbelief.\n<\/p>\n
What\u2019s going to happen when Mrakau really dies? Diego heard Margo\u2019s voice echo in his head. Would they die too, the ones still faithful? The ones that still carried his essence in their chests? Or would they wither away like the god of the Testament? No one could know.\n<\/p>\n
And right now, they didn\u2019t have the patience to find out.\n<\/p>\n
A group of those partial to Mrakau broke the line.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDiego!\u201d Ezekiel let go of his hand. \u201cYou and Margo, go!\u201d He turned around and punched one of the rebels in the jaw. Diego hesitated. His legs felt numb.\n<\/p>\n
Margo caught his hand. \u201cAre you going to move?\u201d She pulled him from Ezekiel, who was holding the line so that the two of them could pass.\n<\/p>\n
Diego trailed Margo. He tripped\u2014nearly fell\u2014as they wound through the empty auditorium\u2019s aisles, down the main hallway, and into the classroom with the microdrile tanks.\n<\/p>\n
Margo ran over to the first of the tanks. She laid a finger on her chest. \u201cLike this,\u201d she said, and a thin, white thread wriggled out from her skin. \u201cRemember that a god is attracted to itself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego did the same. He focused on a worm, a finger to his chest, but nothing came out.\n<\/p>\n
His fingertip was bare. \u201cWhy isn\u2019t it working?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure,\u201d said Margo. \u201cAre you focused enough?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d growled Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, try again. Think of your dad on the other side of the tank.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d said Diego.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, concentrate,\u201d said Margo.\n<\/p>\n
Diego did his best. He tried to drown out the moan of the siren, the chanting that was bleeding from the park into the school. This was his fault. He had to fix it.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThere!\u201d said Margo.\n<\/p>\n
Diego cracked an eyelid. A silvery thread dangled over his finger, winding and wiggling just like a worm. He gaped. \u201cNow what?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cFocus,\u201d said Margo. \u201cPicture the piece of Mrakau in the worm, and imagine it finding the piece in your dad.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
But Diego stalled. He lowered his finger. \u201cWait,\u201d he whispered, and he took a step back.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019ll work.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d said Margo.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMy dad separated from Mrakau, remember? How can my soul find a god that isn\u2019t there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d said Margo.\n<\/p>\n
They stared at the glass.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if you thought of a different kind of god? One that you shared in the times before?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
He knew what she meant\u2014the kind that she had lost, the one that her parents had destroyed when they had left. The kind that Diego had worshiped in his youth, when he still had a family. He had buried what was left of that god in the divorce.\n<\/p>\n
And yet, the last few weeks hadn\u2019t been so bad. His step-father wasn\u2019t the monster he\u2019d imagined, and his father had shown that he regretted his actions. Maybe a piece of that god was still in him.\n<\/p>\n
And maybe\u2014just maybe\u2014it could be reborn.\n<\/p>\n
Diego put a trembling finger to his chest. He thought of the good times, the laughter they had shared, when Saul and his mother weren\u2019t screaming at each other\u2014the movie nights hiding in a blanket on the sofa, the summers at the pool, the weekend cartoons, all of the pieces that had made up his home. He thought of these things, resurrected the past, and with it came something that had felt long dead.\n<\/p>\n
He opened his eyes, and his finger was glowing.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cThe worm,\u201d whispered Margo, \u201cuse the worm as a vessel.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
The two of them watched as a god came to life, from so many years in the darkness of his heart. He did it again, and again, and again, until each of the worms in the tank was aglow.\n<\/p>\n
He scooped them all out, put them in a pail, and hurried outside to the back of the school.\n<\/p>\n
Margo upended the pail in the grass, and they watched as the worms disappeared in the dirt.\n<\/p>\n
Just as the last worm wriggled away, Diego sat down, and he began to pray.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
The worms had been searching for most of the day, and Diego had started to abandon hope. He was tired, and sore, and in need of a bath, and Margo and Ezekiel weren\u2019t faring much better. The three of them had walked across half of San Francisco, and everywhere they went was the same: a dead-end.\n<\/p>\n
That is, until they started to climb up Market Street, and straggle all the way through the forest of Mount Sutro. The sun had long set, and the only light that came was from the twenty-three worms. Who, after splitting into twenty-three directions, had coalesced into a single path, leading them up to the base of the tower.\n<\/p>\n
Diego thought about what Ezekiel had told him. A god had once crawled up this very same hill, wrapping its tail around the prongs of the tower.\n<\/p>\n
Now, his father was there, hiding in the dark.\n<\/p>\n
Saul crept out from the base of the tower. He stopped at the point where the shadows met the moonlight.\n<\/p>\n
Diego felt Ezekiel pat him on the shoulder. Margo squeezed his hand, like his mother had before. And despite all the tension of the last few years, seeing his father made him feel like a kid again, desperate for the comfort of the god they once shared. And it outweighed the dregs of the resentment he harbored for the soul in the wall, for Ezekiel\u2019s presence, for all of his once unforgivable transgressions. Now, with Saul in front of him, those things were insignificant. He was ready to forgive. He was ready to move on.\n<\/p>\n
He walked towards his father, feeling the ripples of a deity forming. He wrapped a sweaty arm around the man\u2019s frail waist, and he looked up and smiled. \u201cHi, dad,\u201d he said. Only two simple words. But within them was the promise of a family reforged.\n<\/p>\n
Saul hugged him back. \u201cI missed you, mijo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n
Diego let the phone drop away from his ear. \u201cMom, it\u2019s okay, you don\u2019t have to worry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cWorry? Diego, I\u2019m more than just worried. Mrakau is dead, and we don\u2019t know why.\n<\/p>\n
And Ezekiel said that your father is missing? You\u2019re living alone with that\u2026 that man?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego cut her off. \u201cMom, it\u2019s alright, he\u2019s not that bad. And dad isn\u2019t missing. We know where he is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
But she didn\u2019t seem to care. \u201cYou can stay with your Aunt Analisa in Maryland.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Diego put the speaker right up to his lips. \u201cNo,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\u201cBut, mijo, I\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\u201cMom.\u201d He took a deep breath. \u201cI\u2019m going to stay here, with Ezekiel, for a while. I want to be around for when dad comes back. I want him to have a piece of home to look forward to.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Ryan Cole is a speculative fiction writer who lives in Virginia with his husband and snuggly pug child. He is a winner of the 2021 Writers of the Future Contest, and his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Ember Journal, Voyage Journal, Metaphorosis and the Bram Stoker Award-nominated anthology Mother: Tales of Love and Terror (Weird Little Worlds Press). Find out more at www.ryancolewrites.com. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The walls had been whispering for nearly two hours. Not whole words. At least, not yet. It was a low-pitched wail, a cry for help, that beat against the paper-thin plaster of the townhouse and trickled through the air vents, the windows, the floorboards, the crawlspace that Diego used to hide in as a child, …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107930,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20129],"tags":[20130],"class_list":["post-140263","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-48-summer-2023","tag-the-colored-lens-48-summer-2023","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140263","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107930"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140263"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140263\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140264,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140263\/revisions\/140264"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140263"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140263"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140263"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}