1 Chapters 1 and 2

Edward Smitherson died on June 23, 2001. It had been a balmy afternoon in his retirement village in North Carolina. A maple, rosewood, and mahogany chess board was populated with abandoned blood red and ivory chess pieces. The red king had been trapped after his bishops, a knight, five pawns, and his beloved queen were all struck from the battlefield. The ivory forces were engulfing the blood king. At the cusp of utter defeat and certain exile to a small island state, the blood king was granted a reprieve when Edward failed to rise from his recliner.

Typical of those immune to the shock of mortality, Edward's neighbors found humor in the tragedy by saying that the proud, retired pastor died as a final act of defiance. Edward would rather shrug off his last days on Earth than face his first loss since arriving to the retirement community four years prior.

In Edward's few clear moments before death, he did not think of his doomed blood king, the dirty dishes in the sink, the half-full laundry hamper, or the fact that he had no heirs to claim what few riches he left behind.

Instead, Edward thought only of the afterlife. He managed a grin and replayed the faces that had populated the pews during his thirty years at a small Episcopal church.

He also feared, as he had all of his life, that on Judgment Day he would be revealed as a latent homosexual. That apprehension, regretfully, was the last thought of his human existence.

The massive stroke did not give Edward long to fret. He died quickly and the pain subsided as death neared. It was an easy passage as Edward felt lifted and overwhelmed by a warm tide. Briefly, he tried to mark, remember, and categorize the wellspring of glorious sensations. But they were too numerous, too vast, and too thrilling. Instead, he dissolved and was weightless.

Heaven embraced Edward and, within its bosom, he thrived. He quickly lost any sense of himself and abandoned the concept of time. The confusions of the flesh were gone and Edward was, at long last, at peace with himself.

Because of Edward's euphoria, he was understandably confused once the heavy tug of flesh began weighing down his soul once again. Initially, he feared that the centuries of bliss were merely a dream. He feared he would return to his weathered, flawed body. He was terrified of returning to his retirement home, to his dirty dishes, and to the hopeless plight of his blood king.

I'd witnessed the process many times before—the jittery eyes and the small spasms as the equilibrium adjusted to gravity again. It was like waking from a warm, vivid dream into a cold, lonely reality.

So, how long was Edward's time in Paradise? That's hard to quantify. Time has so little value in the afterlife. He was there for many, many perfect years and should have been there for many more. I don't believe that the human soul was designed to leave Heaven and this is why I mourned as I watched Edward's soul snared and anchored to another body.

At Edward's death, he'd been a tall, thin, and wrinkled man with sun splotches, a neatly trimmed beard, and gray hair that receded to form a "U" on his head. His jaw was stern, his smile was slight and clever, and his eyes were thin and patient. He had been a stoic man with fixed determination—not unlike the painted icons that hung on his church's walls.

At his moment of reanimation, Edward's familiar aged and withered body was replaced by the small, bony frame of a nine-year-old. It was the body that preceded the blossoming of adulthood, the jolting cocktail of hormones, and the heavy burdens of maturity. His hair was again a full mop of light-brown curls, his arms and legs were lithe matchsticks, and his face was swept with constellations of freckles. He wore the same tan shorts and blue button-up shirt we all wore in this new world.

The cabin of the small luxury jet rattled as it passed through turbulence. Edward's head jerked, but his eyes were still shut tight. I glanced over at a short, dark-skinned older boy with a mushroom-shaped haircut. His name was Jay; he was the only other human in the cabin. Jay's eyes were wide, lush circles of emerald green. His eye color was so vibrant that it struck many as inhuman.

Jay was lounging across three seats with his head propped up on an armrest and his legs stretched out. His tongue stuck out contemplatively as he picked at a rip he'd worn into the seat.

People often thought Jay and I were twins, but we weren't. We simply had a similar flesh tone and were older than the rest of the children brought to the Island. Teenagers amid preadolescence. His nose was long, thin, and hooked slightly and mine was wide and flat. I had one of his shining green eyes, but the other was a pale blue, which made me seem even more unnatural.

Then, there was the vast divide between his boyish temperament and my—and I say this with all modesty—more adult mind-set.

Jay's fidgety and temperamental nature could be exhausting to even the most patient. I was the one who had to rein him in when he got over-stimulated. I often served as a buffer between Jay and the children, as well as between Jay and God.

We all had our parts to play in this new land, but I often tired of my unofficial role as diplomat and voice of reason. The long plane trips were especially hard on Jay, thus even harder on me.

Jay's attention turned to a travel-size Etch A Sketch. He curled up in the seat and worked the knobs furiously as he chuckled to himself.

"He's waking up," I said.

Jay sat up and looked over the seat towards Edward, who was twitching and shifting. Jay lowered back down and showed me the Etch A Sketch. It read "BALI = TOOL!"

I sighed and grabbed a small black organizer from underneath my seat. I opened it, slid out a pen, and flipped to a page with "Edward" written on the top. A mug shot of Edward as an adult was stapled to the top of the page. I checked my watch.

11:38.

"Hurry up," Jay sang. "It doesn't count if you don't write it down."

I ignored Jay as I scribbled a few notes on Edward's condition, replaced the pen, closed the organizer, and left it on my seat. I sat next to the former pastor.

"Edward," I whispered, nudging his shoulder.

His head wavered and he leaned away from me. His body swayed in the seat, then his eyelids slit and widened. He blinked in rapid flutters, wiped away the moist glaze in his eyes with his forearm and looked up at me.

"Hello." I grinned as Edward's confused eyes swept over me. "Welcome back to the physical plane."

"Plane—ha, ha," Jay said mockingly.

Edward's mouth moved and a grumble seeped out. The words were indiscernible. Jay slid off his seat, tossed the Etch A Sketch to the floor and climbed down the aisle, using the armrests as stepping stools. He was playing "Hot Lava," the child's game of not touching the ground to avoid burning up in a river of imaginary molten rock.

"Take your time, Edward," I said. "My name is Bali. My high-strung companion is Jay. We are taking you to the Island."

Edward mumbled again. He grimaced, took a deep breath and tried again. "Why?"

"Because God wants you to, Edward," Jay said, his voice flat, almost apathetic. Jay swung around a seat and landed on the cushion of another.

"It's not a punishment, Edward," I added. "It's a reward; God has created something special for select humans who have made it to Paradise."

Edward took a deep breath. His brow crinkled as he thought.

"What's it like?" he asked.

Jay flipped up into a headstand on the cushion, his feet dangling over the back of the seat.

"It's cool," he said with a grimace, his face turning a brownish red. "It's a surprise, though; we'll be there soon. We're picking up people right now, kinda like a chauffeur service, you know? This is the last load—everyone else is there waiting for us."

Edward sat back against the seat. He closed his eyes, rubbed his eyelids, then stretched. He gripped the back of the seat in front of him. He tugged himself up, but his feet stumbled and tripped as they searched for the ground. He looked down at the floor of the cabin, then at his legs.

"You have a child's body," I said.

He looked at his feet, his small stubby fingers, the carpet of freckles on his forearms. His breath caught, his eyes reddened.

"Why?"

Jay sighed. "Because that's what God wanted."

Edward began blinking away tears.

"Gah," Jay said, rolling his eyes. Jay walked along the aisle towards the cockpit. He then remembered the hot lava and jumped back up to a seat. He kicked my organizer to the ground.

"Hey, watch it!" I said.

"Oh, sorry, sir!" Jay grabbed my organizer, pretended to clean it, then held it reverently as he brought it to me. I jerked it out of his hands.

"You're welcome, gah!" he said.

"Just be more careful."

He saluted like a drunken soldier. "Yessir!"

Jay jumped back up onto the seats and climbed to the front of the cabin. I examined my organizer, rubbed the brown footprint off the front, and opened it to make sure no pages were torn.

"Will I ever go back?" Edward asked. The tears were still fighting through his eyelids and sliding down his cheek.

"I'm not sure," I answered.

Jay fell over the back of a chair, his foot banging against the ceiling and turning on the flight attendant button. I sighed and looked back at Edward.

"God is certain you will enjoy your new home. He designed it specifically with humans in mind."

Edward studied me. His tears had stopped and been replaced by red veins webbed through the whites in his eyes. He nodded and looked away, sucking hard through his nostrils. He slid over to the window seat and craned his head to look down.

Below the plane was an immense blanket of tumbling reds, whites, and pinks. If Edward looked closely enough, he would see thin lines, like threads turning and weaving in and around each other. The mass moved slowly, like clouds, but without vapor—just millions of tiny threads knitting themselves within the quilt.

"Is that Heaven?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" he mumbled, not wanting an answer.

I sat back in my seat and kept my eyes on Edward. Though I watched the boy with pity, I was also curious. These moments of adjustment were markedly different from one soul to the next. Some cried, some were angry, some were curious.

Edward was morose, almost defeated.

"Here's the other one," Jay called from the front seat.

I stood and made my way to the front row. I knew to expect a stunningly handsome boy, but was still struck when I saw the tall, tan-skinned boy with sun-bleached hair. His name was Tommy Humphries and he possessed the kind of beauty that was either a key to the universe or a debilitating burden. For Tommy it was both.

He'd lived nearly his entire life on a beach, first with the relative stability of two parents who thought of themselves as artists, but were little more than drug-addled nomads. The father disappeared when Tommy was seven. Other nomads began dropping in and out of his mother's life, many of them noticing that the boy was growing up tall, handsome, and frequently unsupervised.

His mother packed up, left southern California and settled with Tommy in Hawaii in a large house on the beach owned by an older man. Tommy learned to avoid his new stepfather whenever possible. Tommy spent many nights on the beach which prepared him for when the police invaded the mansion. Tommy's mother snatched him out of bed, fled out the back door, and they slept under a pier.

Tommy and his mother spent the next decade making homes out of tents, vans, or whatever else resembling shelter they could find. Tommy grew more handsome with each passing year and his mother began to depend on his blue eyes, square jaw, and burgeoning sex appeal to keep the pair fed and clothed.

She died of a drug overdose when he was eighteen and he did his best to follow her example until he finally hit bottom and got clean at thirty. He covered his arms and chest with religious tattoos, including a large and rather gruesome crucifixion piece on his back. He began working to save other children being dragged into the same dark world that consumed his mother.

Tommy died at 32 of a gunshot wound.

"Okay, keep an eye on him," I said, looking over at Jay who was standing on his head again. "Jay! Keep an eye on him!"

"Okay!"

Edward was still staring out the window, crying again. I sat down next to him, opened my organizer, and turned to Tommy's page.

11:43.

"Do you want to try standing up again?" I asked Edward as I closed my organizer.

Edward rubbed his eyes, then nodded without looking at me. I slid my hand around his elbow. He clutched onto his armrests and eased his feet to the ground. He pushed himself up, one hand on the seat and the other grabbing my forearm. He shuffled out to the aisle, grabbed the seats on either side, and made his way to the back of the plane. His feet dragged and trembled, but his body memory was returning. He turned and walked back the other way. With each step, his body seemed to strengthen, to become more comfortable in this new skin. By the time he reached the front row of seats, he was confident enough to walk on his own.

Some found joy in relearning the movements of the body. Some did not. I was not surprised that Edward, who'd struggled so deeply with the desires of the flesh, was not happy to be returning to his bodily form. I hoped that this time it would be easier.

Edward wavered and fell against the door to the cockpit, sliding against it until he landed on his knees. He rested his forehead against the egg-white plastic, took a deep breath, and forced himself up onto his feet again. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"That's fine. I know it's frustrating, but your muscles, your balance, and gravity all work here exactly as it did on Earth. Your body knows what to do; you just have to reassert control over it."

Edward nodded then looked back at me with a timid smile.

"So, are we all kids again?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. "We are going to a place we call the Island. All the souls there have the same minds they died with, minus any dementia or deterioration. God will also be there, but He will be an adult."

Edward smiled weakly. "God? I'll be able to see him?"

"Yes, He's taken on a body. Eyes, arms, legs, hair, the whole bit."

"And ears?" Edward asked, then chuckled to himself. He rested his head against the wall.

"Do you think I will enjoy it?" he asked. "The Island."

"Yes."

I hated answering that question.

"So, if we're all kids, who's flying the plane?"

I put my arms around his shoulder and helped him away from the wall. I opened the cockpit door and Edward struggled inside. Both pilot seats were empty. I eased Edward's weight off me and then walked to one seat. I jabbed my finger above the headrest.

There was a sudden "Hrmph!" as light shimmered around the seat.

I glanced back at Edward with a grin.

"They're angels."

Edward's head cocked as he looked at the shimmering light. The light faded and the seat was empty again. A smile surfaced on Edward's face, this one wide and curious.

"You never know where they are unless you run into one," I said. "They are God's chaperons. They ensure that human curiosity doesn't get the better of our judgment."

Edward watched the seats, his eyes narrow and searching.

"Hrmph!" the angel grunted.

"Okay, okay, we're going," I said as I took Edward's elbow. "They don't exactly share God's love of humanity. Let me introduce you to one of your cohorts."

I turned Edward towards Tommy, who was beginning to twitch and wake.

"The two of you will be companions and be responsible for each other. His name is Tommy."

It would take a person who knew Edward well to notice the shift, the muscles in his jaw tightening, his back arching slightly. If anything, one might think that Edward was struck dumb by the boy's attractiveness, but I knew better. I knew his mind, I knew his memories, I knew his shame. It was my job to know.

Sometimes, two souls who'd met on Earth would find each other on the Island, and it was chalked up to coincidence. Though Tommy had been twenty-two years old when Edward met him, Edward recognized his face. Tommy would not recognize Edward since he'd been a much older man, hidden behind a web of wrinkles.

I made a mental note to record the "coincidence" in my organizer.

Edward continued to stare. His face paled and he seemed suddenly older as darkness swept through his eyes. Jay stood up on the seat and leaned closer to Edward.

"Hey," Jay whispered.

Edward's eyes jerked from Tommy toward Jay.

Jay smirked. "Not going to throw up, are you?"

Chapter 2

Sixty-one souls stared at me. Sixty-one men and women plucked out of the fabric of Heaven, given fresh young bodies, and dropped off at a landing field carved out of a forest in a strange new land. The children were of all shades and ethnicities, from all manner of societies and across denominational divides. The only unifying factor was their connection to Christianity and that they spoke Americanized English. God felt it was easier this way.

There were thirty females, thirty-one males. They all wore button-down, blue polo shirts and khaki shorts. The more curious and adventurous of them had gazed out the airplane windows during the flight to the Island. At first, they saw a rock amid the sea of colors, an oasis above Heaven.

As they approached, a vast forest of trees appeared beside a sprawling lake that severed the Island into two land masses—one giant wilderness and one modest campground beside a towering, naked mountain topped with dense cloud cover. A cluster of cabins and metal buildings huddled around a pier. Behind was more forest, trails leading this way and that, then a small landing strip cut into the far end of the Island.

A distant orange star hung in the deep blue sky, similar to the sun that had warmed their skin in their previous lives. The sky reflected the hue of their former world, but was rarely accompanied by the familiar clusters of clouds that would drift across the horizon like weary nomads. Their new sky was perfect and uncluttered, thus less interesting to me. At times, when God was feeling more artistic, He might dream up distant storm systems that would tumble along the sky. The rains would never reach the Island, though. The clouds seemed more a cruel tease, an unfulfilled promise.

If the souls could have broken free of the Island, maybe hijacked the airplane and flown out into Heaven's expanse, they would see the blue sky shift to a warm red, then a dull purple. They would be within the stars. If they continued to fly and could survive a flight of ten billion years, they would find themselves in complete and infinite darkness.

At the precipice between light and dark, they would see a small veil of shimmering luminosity. It was just a few hundred miles wide where light made its final, and most breathtaking, attempt to illuminate reality. As you passed through this shroud that hid the light from the darkness, every color in God's spectrum would sparkle and drift like ghostly waves in a mirage.

The darkness beyond scared me, as it scared everyone, including God.

But that vibrant curtain was my favorite place in all of His creation. It saddened me that so few attempted to see it for fear of falling through into the nightmare beyond.

These souls, these sixty-one strangers, would never see Hell or what was on the other side. They were now limited to the awe of this Island—God's new Eden.

Jay stepped out of the airplane, crossed the landing strip, and stood beside me. My eyes drifted to a cliff overlooking Heaven, Paradise stretching out for eternity. So close, but unreachable.

The children stared at the wall of trees between them and their cabins. Most smiled nervously as they had when they fought through crowded shopping malls to meet old men dressed as Santa Claus.

Edward's eyes trailed to Tommy often, but always jerked away when Tommy glanced back. Several girls within the group also played the same nervous game with Tommy, and the beautiful boy began rebuilding the wall around himself that had insulated him during his time on Earth. They could look, there was nothing he could do about that, but if they wanted anything more from him, it would come at a cost. Even Christianity couldn't unlatch his instinct for perceiving affection as a bargaining chip. Nothing was free.

The souls had arrived at different times—some just touching down, some hours ago who'd wasted away the time with small talk and curious gazes aimed at a slim trail cut into the forest. The trail was dark, weeds grew up through the ground, and it curved and disappeared only a few feet into the trees. The children were only allowed this shallow view into their future.

The cliff behind the landing strip was the most accessible spot on the Island where the children could watch Heaven below. All other edges on this side of the Island were sealed off by an impenetrable wall of trees, rock and vegetation. Beyond the lake were more cliffs with even better views, but the children weren't allowed that far from the campground. God wanted the children to be immersed into His new world, and they couldn't do that if their eyes continually strayed back to Heaven.

There was a light, ever-present breeze that wafted across the Island. Rain rarely fell, yet the trees never parched and the lake never dried up.

A rustle from the trail seized the group's attention. They could see something approaching. A human figure appeared from the woods. I checked my watch, noted the time and wrote it in my notebook.

Humans often assumed that when they finally saw God, He would be large, looming, probably with a long, flowing beard or perhaps a halo hovering above His head. Regardless, they thought there would be no mistaking Him.

This particular group of sixty-one did not recognize God as He appeared from the shadows of the forest.

He seemed tall to them, but only because He was in an adult's body. He wore dark aviator glasses. His belly hung just over His belt and it bobbed as He walked. His skin was a pasty white. His dark brown hair was jagged and short, as if He'd cut it himself and styled it without a mirror. His aviator glasses were the kind that darkened in the sunlight and cleared up once He went inside. They were, at that moment, a neutral tea brown.

The shades didn't improve His appearance.

Not much He ever did improved His appearance.

Instead, His awkward attempts at replicating human fashion and style would always, improbably, make Him look a little worse.

The children anticipated meeting God with a sense of awe, but when they saw Him, they mistook Him for a man. A simple, forgettable, middle-aged man.

He stopped in front of the group and looked them over, with neither approval or disapproval. He pointed at each, counting them in His head. When He was satisfied they were all there, He reached into His back pocket to retrieve a worn, crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it, held it out and tilted His head up slightly so He could read the words through the bifocals discretely hidden within His glasses.

"Why did the papa banana marry the mama banana?" God asked.

The children glanced at each other, and then at me, to which I could only shrug.

"Because," God read out loud, then cleared His throat. "He found her a-peel-ing."

Jay laughed high and shrill like a jackal. Once the children caught on that it was a joke, they forced respectful laughs. A few of them blushed out of embarrassment for the poor old man. A tall and husky African American child named Ossie was the last to stop chuckling. He shook his head and covered his eyes. He was the only one brave enough to laugh at the absurdity of the joke. God noticed Ossie and frowned. Jay took the cue and walked through the children and took position behind Ossie.

"A-peel-ing," God repeated, just above a whisper. He folded the paper, shoved it back into His pocket and removed His glasses. His eyes had no irises and were just pools of soft pink.

The children tried not to stare.

"Hello, my name is God."

He seemed to mentally count the children again, making sure that they all did understand that He was, in fact, God. He'd had problems with that before.

The children's faces gave them away. After a long minute of silence, Ossie chuckled again, but abruptly stopped when Jay slapped him in the back of the head.

"That's all." God turned away and walked back to the forest.

The children looked around at each other, then to me. Again, all I could do was shrug.

"Um, excuse me?" Edward called, raising his hand. A few of the children hushed him, but Edward stood and stepped out from the group. Jay jogged to block his way.

God turned around, looked at Jay, then at me.

"What is it Edward?" I asked.

"Um, well," he stammered, looking from me to God. "Can I ask a question to—Him?"

"What is it?" God asked curtly while taking off His glasses, huffing on the lenses, and buffing them with His shirt.

"Why am I here?" Edward asked.

"Because I want you here."

"Yes, and thank you, but why? Will I ever return to Heaven?"

God frowned and put on his aviator glasses.

"Sit back down," Jay said, then walked to God. He leaned in to whisper "He's the pastor." Jay's voice was just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The pastor?" God asked.

"You know," Jay said, holding his hand out limp. "The pastor."

"Oh. What's his name?"

"Edward Smitherson," I answered.

"Be patient, Edward Smitherson," God said. He turned away and walked into the forest.

Edward maintained his composure, much to my surprise, but no one could miss the devastation in his slumped shoulders, his downcast eyes, and bitter frown. Tommy moved closer, nudged Edward's shoulder, and gave him a nod of approval. Edward smiled.

I jotted some notes on the conversation then walked to the group.

"Now that we got that over with," I called, clapping my hand against the organizer.

I let the statement linger, not really expecting a laugh, but hoping. Even Ossie couldn't muster a response. They were all still too confused. So much had changed for them in such a short time.

"Let's check out your living quarters, shall we?"

I started the procession into the forest. As we curled through the paths, the children began gathering the courage to talk. There were so many questions, so many things for them to look at, so many colors and scents they'd forgotten about. The pine needles were always a surprise—the rich smell and the sharp sting against their skin. The winds would rattle the needles together and some children would pause to listen. It was the memories that slowed them down so much. Those memories melt in Heaven, but they never completely disappear.

God still didn't understand why.

Edward trailed behind the others, eyes fixed on the dirt path. He kicked over a rock, then craned his neck down to look under the brush. At first, I thought he was sulking, but when I slowed and let the others pass, I realized he was looking for something. I walked back to him.

"Where are the bugs?" Edward asked, still examining the ground.

"There are no bugs here, Edward. God thought they would just be annoyances and distractions."

Edward glanced up at me, his face twisted as he thought.

"What do the animals eat?"

"There are no animals either," I said.

"Wait," a thin brunette girl said. With a long beak nose and small eyes, her face was designed for eyeglasses, but there were no glasses in Heaven either. Well, aside from God's of course, but He just wore them to keep from freaking out the children with His eyes.

The girl was named Sophia and she possessed a modest, European sort of beauty. She'd been a nun on Earth, but her life of devotion had been far from serene and peaceful. I could still see the suffering in her hardened smile and eyes that never quite met mine.

"Did you say there are no animals here?" Sophia asked.

"Correct."

The group had gathered around us and began looking through the woods. They'd assumed life was around them, but at that moment realized they didn't hear the birdcalls, the rattle of insect wings, the snakes and rodents rustling through the leaves.

"Why not?" Sophia asked.

"God doesn't want to have them here, okay?" Jay called from down the path. "Now, hurry up!"

The group turned to follow Jay, but continued studying the trees and the woodland floor as they walked.

"What are we going to eat?" Edward whispered to me.

"The food will be provided."

"It's not going to be powdered eggs and generic cereal like they used to serve at camp, is it?" Ossie asked.

"Umm …," I smiled, opening my organizer. I flipped to the week's menu. "For your first breakfast, it looks like we will be dining on a delectable entree of rehydrated gravy and biscuits accompanied by something that very much resembles bacon."

Tommy grunted and shook his head.

"Really?" Ossie asked, rolling his eyes and showing his big, toothy smile, then jabbing two thumbs up in the air. "Awesome!"

Jay stopped, swiveled around and glared back at the group.

"If any of you have a problem with our food, you can just not eat!"

All eyes dropped to the ground, except for Ossie's.

"Fake gravy and something that resembles bacon are some of my favorite things, sir!" Ossie snapped, holding his thumbs up higher.

Jay's eyes narrowed. "I'm watching you."

They walked the winding path for thirty minutes until they reached the clearing. Cabins clustered around larger metal buildings. The rope from a flag-less flagpole pinged against the metal. Beyond, the lake was as flat and still as mirror. The wilderness on the other side was distant, the forest just a blur of brown and green.

Jay turned and waved everyone to him. The group all gazed out at the landscape as they broke from the woods. Edward scanned the campground, then craned his head up to study the mountain. Now that they saw it from the ground, they could better grasp its massive size. It was actually a volcano, but the crater at the top was obscured by a halo of mist. The volcano hadn't erupted since it had spewed out the molten rock that formed the Island. A dense tree line surrounded the base of the volcano, and a few hardy trees managed to sprout farther up the volcano's face.

"How soon until we can get our feet wet?" Tommy asked as he stared out at the vast, crystal-clear lake wrapping around the other side of the volcano, making any attempt at crossing to the other side impossible. On the opposite edge of the Island, the lake disappeared on the far lip into a hazy fog.

"Soon," I said. "After everyone is settled in."

Edward watched the fog intently. The wall of trees seemed to give way just as the mist overtook the land, but the mist was too thick to see what lay within it. The trees picked up again on the other side of the fog.

The far bank of the lake was miles away. It could be seen, but not much detail could be discerned with the naked eye. The lake water was never too cold; there was a mild current with small, gentle waves licking at the shore.

Though it appeared perfect, the lake reminded me of Eastern Europe where I'd seen many, many bad things. There was a lurking evil about the still, blue waters that repulsed me. Jay didn't swim in the lake either, but for reasons all his own.

The Island would be the ideal playground for geologists, chemists, or physicists because of the differences from Earth. God considered scientists to be troublemakers though. He felt they were best left in Heaven.

There were explorers though, and the more adventurous souls would promise to study the entire land. Night after night, they would circle the lake and push deeper into the forest before being called back to the campground. Some would want to go past the volcano and find a way through the trees and around the lake.

No one ever made it farther than the volcano, though. And the other side, where the trees disappeared into fog—no one ever made it past that either.

The trail opened up enough to see the campground, made up of cabins, larger cheap, fabricated buildings and a short pier. The trail led right into the heart of the camp, with a tetherball pole, basketball court, three sand volleyball pits, and a gazebo where Jay would bore all the children with his stories and lectures that lost all relevance in this new world.

Farther down the shoreline there was a small boathouse and on the other end of the camp was Cabin One, where God stayed. It was small and modest; he spent nearly all time there.

"This is it?" a stern-faced boy with thick shoulders asked. "It really is a church camp?"

"You were a Boy Scout once," Jay said. "You should feel right at home here."

The boy, named Billy Rose, only grunted. He was once a Boy Scout, then an Eagle Scout, then a Marine. He temporarily survived a Japanese POW camp, but the damage from his time in enemy hands would kill him a decade later. Even in this new world, I could see the ghosts from that camp haunting him.

Billy was not alone in his disappointment—the others were trying to smile and appear eager but instead were just confused.

"Spectacular," Ossie said, then chuckled to himself.

"Okay, gather around," Jay called. "I am sure many of you have had the camp experience, for better or worse, so you already know the drill. There are scheduled activities such as arts and crafts, sports, swimming, lessons, lunch, breakfast, dinner, blah, blah, blah. We will provide you with weekly schedules and if you use your structured time wisely, that will leave about half your day to do with what you please. You are not allowed to take boats out across the lake; we have one boat, and it is for official use only. You may swim, but stay near the shoreline. There are angels throughout the area, so if you do something wrong, we will know. Any questions?"

"Where's the library?" Tommy asked.

"There is no library," Jay said. "There is a Bible you can check out."

"Hmm," Tommy responded, his face automatically falling blank and unreadable to all but me. I knew Tommy had no interest in reading the Bible again. He had studied it extensively in rehab, but was strangely repelled by it now, as if opening the pages would somehow drag him back in time to those long, painful days and perhaps even beyond.

I'd noticed many times that such reflexes from Earthly lives are the first to return. There appears to be some part of the soul that never truly forgets, as enduring as muscle memory. That little puzzle was something of an irritant to God, even if He wouldn't admit it.

"All you need to know is in the Bible," Jay said with a labored sigh. "It may not be as fun to read as your comic books and Mad magazines, but it's got all the answers. Any other questions?"

"What part of the Bible are we supposed to read?" Edward asked. "I've studied it. I've read it in Greek and Aramaic. There is no mention of anything remotely like this."

"Maybe you should read it again," Jay said.

"This is something separate from Heaven," I said. "I know it is a little confusing, but the same rules of morality apply; your relationship with God may be more immediate, but you should treat Him with the same reverence as on Earth."

Edward frowned and looked away.

"Any other questions?" Jay asked the others.

"Are there pool tables or ping pong?"

Jay looked around for the source of the voice amid the campers. "No."

"What about motorcycles or bikes?" another voice asked.

"No."

"What about horses?"

Jay snorted indignantly. "There are no animals on the Island; why would there be horses?"

"What about television?" Ossie asked, glancing at Edward, who grinned.

"No!"

"Video games?"

"No!"

Tommy rose his hand. "What about the Spice Channel?"

"What's the Spice Channel?" Jay asked.

"That would be an adult channel, sir," Ossie said.

Jay looked at me. "An adult channel?" he asked.

"Porn," I said.

Jay looked back at Tommy. "Why would we have porn in Heaven?"

"'Cause it's Heaven," Tommy responded with a shrug.

"Is this actually Heaven?" Ossie asked. "Or would this be considered a suburb of Heaven? A fringe community?"

"A bedroom community, maybe?" another boy named Simon asked.

"No!" Jay said. "This is the Island up here. That is Heaven down there. Neither of which has a single television!"

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. The group stifled laughs.

"ESPN?" Tommy asked.

"No!" Jay shouted, turning his back on the group, and storming away.

I moved to Jay's place and let the children laugh until it was out of their system.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," I began, watching Jay stride to the mess hall. "This might not be the luxurious getaway you saw in the brochure, but I may be able to secure some amenities to make your stay a little brighter."

"Like what?" Ossie asked. "'Cause, to be honest, I'm just not sure I want to live in a world without VH1."

"That's a bit of a tall order," I answered, opening my organizer. I flipped to a page labeled "Contraband." "I can get some secular books. I've already got binoculars on their way. Before you start deluging me with ridiculous demands, I won't be able to take orders for at least two-to-three days. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves as much as possible."

Tommy raised his hand.

"Before you ask, Tommy, I cannot and will not get the Spice Channel."

Tommy stomped his foot and the group laughed, the girls a little harder than the boys. I was glad to see the campers relax finally. I flipped to another page and wrote a few notes, then waved them to follow me toward the campground.

"I don't ever remember a thing called the Spice Channel," Edward said to Tommy as I led them down the hill. It was the first time Edward had actually talked to Tommy, and he was still worried Tommy would recognize him. "Was that on cable or something?"

Tommy gasped. "You didn't watch Spice? How did you survive adolescence?"

"I think it was after my time," Edward said, then chuckled. "We were still looking at Sears catalogs."

I hung back and followed Edward and Tommy. They talked quietly. As Edward realized Tommy wasn't going to recognize him, he relaxed and let himself fall into Tommy's trance.

It was a cruel thing God was doing to Edward.

Edward's eyes suddenly veered off into the woods behind us. I followed his gaze, and sitting in a tree was a red cardinal. It wasn't chirping; it just sat on the branch looking back at us. I jogged up to Edward, who was pointing it out to Tommy. I grabbed Edward's hand and moved it down.

"Don't draw attention to it," I whispered.

"I thought there weren't any animals here?" Edward asked, still looking at the cardinal.

"It came from across the lake," I said. "It needs to find its way back there, or it won't be around much longer."

I made a note of it in my organizer.

"Are you going to tell God?" Tommy asked.

"No, God doesn't read this. It's just for my records."

"Records for what?" Edward asked.

"I'm writing my memoirs," I smirked, then shooed them down the trail. I glanced back towards the bird, but it was already gone.

******

Unlike the campers, I volunteered for the Island. I just couldn't resist. God's plans were always curiously suspect, considering He was omniscient. Knowing everything might mean knowing too much.

C.S. Lewis had theorized that time had no meaning for God, that he knew everything that would happen and had happened, and for Him, it was all one eternal moment. If that was true, it would certainly explain why He seemed so absent-minded. Albert Einstein was undoubtedly a genius, but I wouldn't have put him in charge of my travel agenda.

But then I consider the possibility that I am selling God short, that He knows exactly what he is doing. He understands that He is designing scenarios that cannot end as planned, and He enjoys watching them implode. For a challenge. For the entertainment. Eternity is a really long time, even in Heaven.

Jay and I divided the cabins in hopes of coming up with the best chemistry between the campers. You don't want the quiet ones with the loud ones, the weak kids with the bullies and the gung-ho campers with the slackers. There was always a small group of children whose attitudes would define the entire tone of the campground. The challenge was finding those trendsetters and ensuring that they buy into the spirit of the Island early.

We would then sit back and watch, along with the angels, along with God. There was one cabin that had all of our attentions.

"Who do you think is going to be first?" Jay asked, following my gaze towards Edward, Tommy, Ossie, Billy, and the black-haired boy named Simon Roma. The group talked and laughed as they walked into Cabin Five.

"First? Are we betting, sir?"

"No!" Jay said followed by an indignant snort. "No, we don't gamble here. But I do want to see if you're better at reading them than me."

I shook my head and grinned.

"I am, and you already know that I am."

"Whatever," Jay said. "So, who's it going to be?"

"Are we talking about just Cabin Five, or the whole camp?"

"The first will come from Cabin Five," Jay said. "You know that. I know that. That's why we put them together."

"Oh, is that why?" I said, looking over at a small, quiet boy named Petrov who kept his head dipped as he returned from the shore. I'd noticed he'd wandered off from the group earlier and decided to let him go.

"Petrov!" I called, pointing over to Cabin Five. "That one's yours."

Petrov nodded and ambled onward, his head ducked, his hands jammed into his pockets, and his eyes on the ground.

"What about Petrov?" I asked.

"No way," Jay replied.

"Hmm."

"I'm betting on Ossie," Jay said.

"I thought we weren't betting."

Jay rolled his eyes. "We're not, it's just an expression, gah!"

I nodded my head and watched the cabin. I could see Ossie through the window, smiling, chatting. He was the most talkative of the group by far and the first one who seemed to be enjoying the experience, though possibly not how God intended.

I opened my organizer and flipped to Ossie's page. He was in his nineties when he died, but the mugshot on the page showed that he'd kept his handsome face all the way into the grave. In old age, he'd had a few wrinkles, but never fully lost the baby fat in his cheeks.

I flipped the page over and skimmed his typed profile on the back. "Why Ossie?"

"Really? Do you have to ask?"

"I suppose not," I replied, slapping my organizer shut. "Well, you're right; it'll probably be someone from their cabin. I doubt it'll be Simon—he'll get into a lot of trouble, but I think he'll enjoy the challenge. Billy's got issues he needs to deal with, but I think he'll do pretty well here. Edward is the one to watch. He won't be the first, but I don't think it'll be long for him."

"Ossie'll be first; just wait and see."

I shrugged and watched Petrov. He was standing in front of the door, staring at the doorknob, and listening to others inside.

"Go ahead, Petrov," I called. "It's okay."

Petrov glanced back, nodded his head and then opened the door.

"You're sure it won't be Petrov?" I asked.

"Guarantee it!"

"Okay, then it's a bet."

Inside the cabin, Edward slid his fingers along the wooden desk, drawing his name in the dust. Light poured in from the windows, glimmering against the particles swirling in the air. There were three sets of bunk beds with bare mattresses. Each bunk had two footlockers in front of it. There was one desk, one chair and everything was covered in light gray dust.

"Charming," Edward said as he lifted up the tip of his fingers to look at the dust he had collected.

"There's no light switch," Billy the Marine said. "How are we supposed to see at night?"

"I don't think they want us to," Tommy ventured. "Nighttime is when we tend to do most of our sinning."

Billy looked at the window, then walked to the bunk across from it. He flipped open a footlocker in front of it and found blankets, a pillow, and sheets.

"Dibs on the top bunk," Billy said.

Simon took the cue and slipped past Edward to climb up to another top bunk. Simon was a short boy, even shorter than Petrov, but with chubby cheeks and a devious glint in his eyes. As he rolled onto the mattress, dust swirled up. He coughed as he waved it away.

Ossie, the tallest of the children, leapt up onto a top bunk. As he landed, the mattress bowed under his weight and creaked.

"That's my bed, son!" Billy snapped, watching the bed sag down.

Ossie groaned, and then rolled off the bed and landed on the ground. He moved to the other top bunk, but Tommy beat him to it. Tommy climbed quickly and grinned down at Ossie. Ossie sighed and then walked to the bottom bunk under Billy.

Two bottom bunks were left, one beneath Tommy and the other beneath Simon. Edward's mind whirled. He finally shuffled nervously toward Tommy. Left with no other option, Petrov sat stiffly on the bunk under Simon.

"I gotta warn you, Eddie," Tommy called as he laid back on the bed. "I drink a lot of water at night and I'm a real deep sleeper."

The others laughed, and Edward smiled. No one had called him "Eddie" before.

Edward grinned, sitting down on the mattress and brushing the dust off the mattress. "Nothing a roll of Saran Wrap can't fix."

Simon jumped down from his bed and walked to the window to survey the campground outside. Simon had been a manager of a rent-a-car franchise, a grifter, a card dealer, a liquor store clerk, but was most proud of his career as a mostly amateur but sometimes professional magician. He'd married three times in his life, and had ultimately died alone without any children to carry on his name.

Simon worked for decades to break into the Vegas magic circuit. Instead of finding fame as a celebrity magician, he devolved into a small-time con man before handing his life over to Christianity and the rental car industry. He never fully retired from magic, though. Instead, he volunteered his time at children's hospitals and was known as "Simon Roma: The Magic Tomato."

I opened the door and stepped inside. Edward slid off his bed and stood up, as if I'd caught him at something. Simon didn't acknowledge me as he searched the camp.

I carried a Bible along with my organizer. I wedged the Bible in my armpit as I wrote down the campers' sleeping arrangements.

"Looking for angels?" I asked.

"Yeah," Simon said. "What do they look like?"

I walked over to Ossie's bottom bunk and he scooted over to let me sit next to him. The dust puffed up.

"It's hard to say. The only time you can see the angels is when they get touched, and then they only shimmer like sunlight on water. You can hear them when they talk but you won't really understand them."

Simon frowned and looked back out the window.

"Are they watching us now?" Billy asked from the bunk above me.

"Why?" I asked, craning my head to look at him. "What are you planning on doing?"

Billy smirked. "Considering my options." He nodded at my organizer. "You going to narc me out if I do?"

"Perhaps."

"So, what are you writing in there?" Simon asked.

"Just details, things that I want to be able to remember. There are a lot of details I have to record to keep the campground organized and functioning properly. I write everything down to keep it straight."

Simon grunted skeptically.

"I guess that's the campground's only Bible?" Edward asked.

I nodded and then flipped the Bible to him. Edward lunged to catch it as if it would shatter if it hit the floor.

"I thought you'd be interested in looking it over."

Edward opened it and looked over the table of contents, checking over the chapters.

"So, this is the official version of the Bible, all the translations are correct?"

I shrugged.

"It's the one God let me bring into the campground, so I guess so."

Edward's eyebrows scrunched together and he looked at me with exasperation. He slumped down on the bed, rubbed his eyes and then flipped the Bible open.

I leaned back on the bed, resting my head against the wall. I looked over the room, recognizing the uncertainty in their faces. On the bottom bunk next to me, Petrov's pale, thin face was ducked away. He had been a Russian icon painter as well as a successful secular artist. I'd hoped putting him with the others in Cabin Five would help him open up. He'd been quiet all his life and likely wouldn't change here without help.

"They might be watching," I said, keeping my eyes on Petrov. "The angels, I mean. You're not being judged anymore, though. Don't go out of your way to defy God, Jay, or myself and you will be fine."

"What do we get in trouble for?" Simon asked from the window.

"Essentially the same as while you were on Earth: stealing, lying, cheating. You're too young for sex, so you don't have to worry about that."

Ossie gasped. "But that's the best part!"

Simon and Billy laughed, Tommy grunted and watched the window. Edward eventually chuckled without looking up from the Bible. Petrov continued to stare at his hands.

"You know when you're doing something wrong," I continued. "Don't try to trick God and the rest is easy."

"Why did he choose us to come here?" Tommy asked, looking directly at me.

I sighed, glanced at the open door, and motioned for Simon to close it. I stood up from the bed and faced the group.

"I don't know. None of us really knows why God is doing this. Perhaps he's taking another crack at an Earth and this is his testing ground. Whatever His reasoning, my advice is to do your best to enjoy your stay. You may return to Heaven in a couple of days or maybe not for several years."

"Maybe not ever?" Edward asked. He lowered the Bible and glared up at me, red lines forming in the whites of his eyes, his face flushed.

"I wish I knew," I said.

Ossie laughed. "Wow. That's just awful."

"If I had better answers for you, gentlemen, believe me, I'd tell you."

"So who are you?" Tommy asked. "A camp counselor or something ridiculous like that?"

"My name is Bali. I'm not really a counselor, but I do assist God, to whatever degree I can. Essentially, I help keep track of the details on the Island. Jay and I work together."

"Is Jay your friend?" Tommy asked, sitting up on his bed and letting his legs dangle down.

"Ehh."

"Why are Jay and the Big Man such dicks?" Tommy asked.

The cabin went silent. I paled slightly and waited for an angel, but none came.

"Don't use expletives, Tommy," I said. "God does frown on crude language, especially when it is directed at Him."

"Okay, whatever, but answer my question. Why did we get treated like petulant brats the second we stepped off the plane? If they don't want us here, why are we here? I mean, if it's just me, if I'm the asshole here, I'll shut up."

"No, you're not," I said. "And please, no cussing."

Tommy shook his head, then laid back down on his bunk.

"God does want you here," I said. "He's just difficult to read, but you will get used to Him. Same with Jay. Just don't take it personally."

"Okay," Tommy said with a flippant finality.

"So if you're the scribe," Billy said, "what does Jay do?"

"If you find out, let me know. My guess is that he's God's confidant."

"Why doesn't God talk to you?" Ossie asked.

"I'm a nag, always pestering Him about something the Island needs."

"Will God talk to us?" Edward asked.

"Sometimes. He talks to some more than others. I guess that might be why He brought you here in the first place."

Edward gave a slim smile, then returned his focus to the Bible.

I walked to the door and opened it, glancing outside and then back at the group.

"Okay, take as much time as you want; explore the camp. You might dust off this cabin and beat your mattresses outside. There are some towels in your footlocker and more at the mess hall if you need them. We eat in a few hours. Whenever you hear the bell, that means it's time to return to camp, okay?"

There were a few nodding heads. Edward used his shoulder to rub a tear off his cheek while he read.

"We're pairing you up," I continued. "Just like you chose your beds—Ossie and Billy, Petrov and Simon, Edward and Tommy. You're responsible for your companion, so keep each other accountable or at least cover each other's excuses."

Simon chuckled and I appreciated the small victory. I waved before closing the door on them. They began talking again as soon as I left. Plotting.