Silver Signs Part 3.

The bar is half full despite being well before noon. Pale-faced men and women in ties and pantsuits mill about dimly. No one says a word. The bartender sets a glass in front of me and fills it. The bottles have all been opened, most of them drained. He fills another glass for himself. The bartender during the day must be a different guy than I remember. This one is dressed as formally as I am, tie and all. There’s blood on his cuffs.

“Hey, guy,” I look up at him, head tilted to one side. “Where’s Lucius at?” The man shrugs.

“Dunno, place was open, so…” he trails off, looking guilty. “I’m Silas, though.” Silas reaches across the bar to shake my hand. He looks around suspiciously at the other patrons for over a minute. Silas leans down to whisper to me. “So what’s going on? Do you know? No one here really talks.”

“No, what’s going on?” I look him over for any obvious weapons, leaning slightly away.

“Well, I heard something about the end of the world, so it might be that. I figure though, it’s some kind of government thing.” Silas grins proudly at those claims. I have to stare at him for a long moment. I remember the angel, and suddenly the first option seems almost obvious. I suppose at this point I owe him a secret.

I tell him about the angel. What I can remember of it. The entire story almost sounds less crazy out loud. Telling it makes me need another drink, which I get. By the end, I notice my hands are shaking. Silas simply nods and pours me a third drink.

I head out, and walk for a few minutes before I notice Silas beside me. He was pointing at the moon and wincing. I glance at it and check my watch. It’s daytime, just before noon. The sun is out, too. On the other side of the sky was the moon, big and shining and possibly made of cheese.

“So? Atmosphere trick, right?” I looked over at Silas, then up at the moon. My eyes felt strained. They started to water and I couldn’t look at it anymore. Next to me, Silas was rubbing his fingers over his eyes, grimacing. A man hurried out of the alley, wearing a scarf, a trench coat, and a wide brimmed hat. It was a little summer for that sort of getup, wasn’t it? His footprints were red. I watched him go. He must have been sweating like a pig under all th- Red? I ran to the alley he had emerged from and immediately regretted it. Behind me, I heard Silas gasp, groan, and lose his breakfast on the sidewalk.