Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

144 :: JOHN R. MABRY
Terry snorted. If he had been drinking milk, it would have
sprayed. Richard pretended not to notice. “I’m not so good
at the last part, but yes, I know what you mean.”
“There are no such things as ‘acceptable losses,’ Richard,
but there sure as hell are losses.” He stared back down at his
cup.
“What are you trying to do that could justify such a loss?”
Richard asked, finishing the tea in his cup.
“Saving the world, of course.”
“From what?”
“From the greatest tyrant it has ever known. From the
cause of every evil, every blight, the source of all disease and
pain.”
“Satan?” asked Dylan.
“No, not Satan. Satan’s the fall guy, the patsy, the dupe,
the straw man. He’s the one that was set up to take all the
heat off of the real perpetrator.
“And who would that be?” asked Terry.
Larch stared at him for a long moment before responding.
“Why, God of course.”
:: 28 ::
As Dylan drove back over the Bay Bridge, stony silence
ruled over the car. Terry worried silently, while Richard’s
face was set with grim determination. Not until they reached
Emeryville did one of them speak.
“Any idea what Brian’s got cooking?” asked Dylan with
exaggerated brightness.
Terry ignored him, but Richard took the break in the
silence as a cue to wonder aloud. “I fucked up back there.”
“How d’ya figger?” asked Dylan.