The Armageddon Boy part II: A Very Special Child (standard:fantasy, 1161 words) [2/3] show all parts
Author: Frank N. Stine	Added: Jun 24 2002	Views/Reads: 2460/1747	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Part 2 of the 'highly' popular Armageddon Boy series.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

with me.' 

Get off! she thought.  It was at least a mile down. 

'Where are you going?' 

'To the first class depot,' the stork replied, 'you only have a middle
class stamp.' 

She frowned: 'You mean second class?' 

'No middle class - it's too hot for you in first class.' 

She had to admit that it was getting awfully hot.  The sun was almost
filling the sky now as they flew towards it and her sweat was boiling 
quickly from the heat.  Suddenly the sleeve of her pink blouse caught 
fire and she screamed and rolled to her right, striaght off the back of 
the great bird. 

Now she was falling towards the ocean.  Her hands thrust out to catch
hold of something, anything, but there was nothing there.  Only air 
that she fell through picking up speed as the blue water grew ever 
closer. 

*		*		* 

She jumped up suddenly in bed and saw that her sleeve was on fire. 
Quickly she beat the fire out.  But the heat was still ferocious in the 
room.  She saw flames leaping up the curtain.  Bright orange sparks 
fell all about her and she coughed loudly from the thick black smoke.  
The room was on fire all around her.  She had left the candle burning 
and it must have fallen and set the room alight.. 

This was surely the moment of her death, she thought, and of the poor
baby.  She turned to the baby, afraid she was going to see its charred 
remains. 

The child, however, was awake and chuckling.  A bright white halo of
light about his head.  His tiny arm stretched towards her and touched 
her hand, and from that touch the searing heat dissolved and she felt 
cool and calm, like the Adriatic Sea on a cool September morning. 

She lifted the boy, cradled him in her arms, and walked through the
house towards the front door into the street.  As she went she 
marvelled at how the licking flames moved aside to let them through, 
like servants paying respect to their master. 

When she reached the street, the fire engine was already there, the
shower from their hoses falling about like gentle rain.  Mr. Shephard 
ran to her and threw his arms around them both. 

'Oh thank God,' he said then looked back with sadness at the house.  The
open windows billowed with thick black clouds of smoke. 'If only God 
could have saved the TV as well.' 

She looked thoughtfully at the boy, whose tiny hand now held her little
finger.  She thought about telling her husband what she had seen, and 
how she had been saved by this child, but she knew he would never 
believe her or truly understand. 

'I've thought of a name for him,' she said instead. 

'What's that?' Mr. Shephard was only half listening as he watched the
men in yellow helmets attempt to rescue his video collection. 

'Jesus.' 

Now he was listening and he looked at his wife and gulped. 

'I think we'd be better off calling him Damien - don't you?' 


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