Ruler of the Kingdom of the Air

Chapter 1

When the nurses looked down at him, their faces blushed. The ruddiness of their visages let the mother know that this child should be kept in good care. His mother, Gambina Stockwell, an editor at Wilmington, Delaware publishing house Lamden now on maternity leave, cradled him. When the father, Greene Stockwell, Wilmington credit card company Delacredit senior vice president showed up, his excitement proved to be palpable. His six foot frame made him tower over the nurses. Brown skin enveloped his entire physique and contrasted the mother’s light brown complexion.

“My boy! My boy!” he said. He looked at his wife with a knowing smile. “I name him Ruler.”

Everyone except for Stockwell in that room at the Dover Air Force Base in Dover, Delaware looked as if they smelled fetid garbage. The mother especially appeared to be offended. She had just enough strength in her to protest.

“No, we’re not going to go…I mean we’ve talked about…alright, Ruler. We’re setting him up for bullying.”

“Not at all. We’re setting him up to be a great man.”

The date on the birth certificate read June 21, 1988, the year of the Dragon. The boy was born on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer. He wasn’t more than three minutes old and everyone knew he was physically healthy. His complexion looked lighter than a little ham with brown hair slick on his head.

With the overwhelming sense of wondering what the boy would do, the mother and father wrapped up the child, taking care to remember that precious cargo would be going home with them for the first time after all of the tests and checks had been completed. One thing rang in Stockwell’s mind. It wasn’t so much as a sound or look, but the atmosphere of the room where his son first saw the light of life. An uneasy, even unsettling sense washed over his being as he drove his wife and newborn home to Newark, Delaware.

Weeks later, once the boy dazzled the eyes of the partygoers who welcomed the young couple, there remained Gambina’s brother Melech. “He’s not black enough, but he will be. He was born among the dead on that base. He’s a descendent of Ham. Canaan. Whatever you want to say. He’s actually goddamned.”

Stockwell marched over to Melech and gritted his teeth. A tiny bit of spittle dripped on his lip.

“You can get the hell out of my house with that talk!”

Melech stood five feet six inches so Stockwell dwarfed him. Melech had been light as well, like his sister. He grinned, gold teeth flashing in the overhead lamp.

“That’s alright. I can go. But I’m warning you. You’re going to be raising a demon child. The actual Satan. Lucifer. Whatever name you want to give him. You named him ‘Ruler.’ That only further shows how much of the destruction and mayhem this boy will cause. Think about it; he was born on the first day of summer in the capital of the First State of what some call the Great Satan on an Air Force base featuring the largest mortuary in the US military in the year 1988. Everything points to the idea that this boy is going to ruin the world. Why wasn’t he born in Uganda in 1734? Why wasn’t he born in France in 1540? He is the Beast. I don’t know if you’ll find 666 on his body or head, but he represents that figure regardless.”

Stockwell grabbed Melech by the arm. They had been away from the other partiers at this time and Stockwell escorted Melech forcibly to his car.

“One moment!” Melech said as he stood next to his vehicle.

“Okay. And then you get the hell out of here.” No one else was around to witness any of this.

“I’m just telling you. Be on guard with that one. I know he’s my nephew and I know you’re going to be a great father, but I’m just warning you…Ruler is going to be a menace.”

“Just get the hell out of here, Melech,” Stockwell intoned.

As he sped off, Stockwell returned to the house. He and Gambina actually had two other daughters, Shivley and Lori ages six and four, respectively. There grew something in their faces as well, the innocence of their childhood seemed to be besmirched at the presence of their younger brother.

“Is he alright, Mommy?” Shively asked, trepidation creeping into her voice.

Gambina looked at her daughter incredulously. “Of course, baby. He’s your brother. You’re going to take good care of him.”

“I want to hold him!” Lori exclaimed not picking up on her older sister’s young and growing suspicions.

“You can’t hold him just yet. In a few more days and weeks you will, though,” Gambina reassured.

Stockwell returned to the party with a smile. He found his wife and daughters. The other family and friends created a sweet din that clashed with the ominous tone of the three childrens’ Uncle Melech.

“Honey,” Gambina called.

“Yes?” Stockwell answered.

“Could you take him for a moment? I’m going to try to get some peace in the bathroom.”

“Of course, dear. I got him. I got him.”

The two girls left the room to be with the other members with cake and watermelon on their plates and ice cold powdered drink mixes in their cups. Stockwell remained by himself in the room adjacent to the living room. He clutched his young son with extra care and attention. He looked around then he started looking through Ruler’s body and head for any sign. I’m crazy, he thought. Melech is, actually….” he continued. Gambina returned. An audible gasp and a wide smile crossed her face as she stretched out her hands to greet her newfound joy.

Stockwell’s face darkened. Gambina noticed this.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I–I had a talk with your brother and he really pissed me off,” he related.

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t want to go into all the details of it but he started talking about Ruler.”

Gambina shifted her stance. “What about?”

“Like I said, I don’t want to get too deep into it, but we might want to consider homeschooling the boy. I mean you even said his name is cause for bullying. We can teach him everything he needs to know until he gets to college.”

Gambina looked cross. “Just tell me what is the matter….”

Stockwell breathed. It was a heavy breath as if he was loading sandbags onto a truck.

“He’s saying…implying that Ruler is the Devil.”

“What?!” Gambina became alarmed while still holding her child tightly. She looked down at the boy’s face and noticed how serene he looked.

“I mean it angered me but what he said isn’t far off. He’ll grow up to be brown like me like the descendants of Canaan, of Ham or whatever. It doesn’t make too much sense, but I can’t get it out of my head. The singularity of his birth…I didn’t find the Number of the Beast on his person but I can suspect that he will have to find a way of knowing what is to come. First day of summer…what’s associated with summer? Heat. Like hell. Born on an Air Force base in the capital of the First State so there’s no mistaking his place of origin and the time period. America is often called by our enemies as the Great Satan. In 1988 and we’re still in a crack epidemic and AIDS is a major problem. Do you see what I’m saying?”

His wife looked incredulous. Her soft hands enveloped her face and tears burst through like tiny rivulets.

“All of this talk is about our baby boy. He is not the Devil or Satan or any of those things.” She held onto Ruler even tighter.

“Baby, I know this is all crazy, but we must do something.”

“Do something?! Like what? Strike his head against a wall? Drown him in the bathtub?”

Stockwell shook his head. Deep concern and worry painted his face. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to bring joy and happiness to his wife again. He searched for some levity in the matter.

“At least we can say he is ours. That he is the better word. The better name. Lucifer. The light-bearer. That he will grow up and enlighten the world on how we should be individualistic.”

Gambina looked at her husband, tears welling up in her eyes but none dropping down her face this time.

“Greene, there is no room for this kind of talk. There is no place for it.”

Stockwell looked around the room. Streamers and balloons populated the space. The party atmosphere still exhibited an idea that everything was still okay somehow. After his revelation he held in his soul the idea that his son would be Satan himself. He backed away from his wife. He placed his right hand on his head. His breathing increased. He rushed out of the room. Gambina then wept without recourse. The power of her crying prompted Ruler to cry as well. His shrieks punctuated the room’s silence and his mother just continued to cry profusely.

Then, Stockwell moved to the garage and opened the door. He hopped in his car and then rushed away from the party. He had to drive. His mind started to become an engine like the car that he drove. Every movement he made only served to propel his mind to think further and further about this discovery. He drove all over Newark, Delaware. He stopped by his grandmother’s house. If anything, he had his grandmother Serena to talk to about this case. Her birthday just happened to fall on Ruler’s birthday. She would’ve been at the hospital but she came down with a slight case of pneumonia. She prepared for the party.

“Greene, what’s on your mind? Aren’t you supposed to be with Gambina and that baby?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about Grandmother. That boy is different. He’s handsome and he coos and he’s in many ways just a healthy baby boy.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I think he’s….”

“Yes?”

“I have been enlightened. It would seem to me that he is the Son of the Morning, the Morning Star.”

Serena was a God-fearing woman.

“That boy is the devil. He was born on my birthday. That’s a sign that the person who raised you and cared for you and still loves you, has shown that the arrival of the Devil himself is now here.”

It looked like great weights lifted from around Stockwell’s neck. His eyes turned to saucers. The clarity of her words resonated in his being. He knew what he had to do. He kissed his grandmother’s forehead.

“What are you going to do, boy?” She asked.

“Grandmother, I have to make sure I do this right."

The fate of the entire globe left his mind in a constant race to discover the reasons for this excursion. Both he and Gambina stood as atheists and despite his grandmother’s fervent faith, he knew it had to be simpler. There had to be something he could do. He drove over to the nearest philosopher from his college days.

Dr. Houston Snyde, coal black and thickset, looked up from a soccer game playing on his television. Stockwell had formed a relationship with his philosophy professor from Delaware Institute of Technology and wanted to seek more secular direction despite the mystical sensibility of this whole case.

“Dr. Snyde, it’s such an honor to see you again.”

“Mr. Stockwell. Of course, come in, come in.”

“I thank you for allowing me into your home again after all of these years.”

“What is this pleasant surprise all about?”

Stockwell looked down and around and exhaled. “It’s my son, doctor. I––”

“What is it?”

“I think I have just sired the seed of Satan.”

Doctor Snyde didn’t chuckle or laugh or do anything but look at Stockwell with severity.

“This seems to be out of my purview. I would recommend a priest or a member of the clergy or evangelist. But this is all very serious to me. If you think your child is the Devil…the scriptures say that he would appear but in my mind as a non-believer as well, I know that I am for saying that there is no kind of alternative. What we have is a situation where the idea of the Great Satan returning to the earth to not destroy but enlighten. Of course all of this is mythology. I cannot say that what you are telling me is a lie because you’re not a liar. I do, however, say that we must be able to keep our wits about this. We must view this entire occasion as something that will offer us knowledge and understanding.”

Stockwell’s face flushed through the brownness. The doctor noticed this.

“What is it, son?”

“I just did the math of his birth…June is the sixth month. The twenty-first is two plus one. That’s three. You multiply two by three. That’s––”

“Six,” Snyde said.

“And nineteen eighty-eight…one plus nine is ten. Ten minus eight is two. Eight minus two is––”

An audible gasp escaped from the doctor’s lips. He clutched his chest. Stockwell rushed to him. The professor’s black skin looked like onyx and it appeared to grow ashen.

“I’m going to call an ambulance!” Greene shouted.

“No, no. No need for that,” he said and reached for his nitroglycerin pills and took them with water.

“Are you alright, doctor?”

“Yes, I think we’re on to something now, though,” Doctor Snyde remarked. He sipped water and his color returned to him.

“So what is it, Doctor? Am I right with my calculations? Especially the fact he was born on the day with the most light in the year?”

“It’s quite possible that we have a case of multiple coincidences. There is no evidence of a God and therefore, we shouldn’t even consider the concept of some supernatural being sending down to the Earth the ‘number of a man’ as the ancient scrolls purport. It’s something that we have to study, we have to investigate this to the fullest. This is a distinct occasion. What we have here is a way of seeing what a believer would say.”

“Yes, and that’s what makes all of this so dangerous. Jesus! I mean my son for Chrissakes! All I need is for the one that I love most, Gambina to be made further upset. I think I dropped a sledgehammer on her with my revelation. I think she was doing just fine without me scaring her like that. Goddamnit! I think I can do something, though. I can tell her that we have the opportunity to be the parents of the One.”

“Yes, he most certainly is the One. He has been so misinterpreted and misunderstood. Without him, according to the myth, there is no existence for humanity. He showed man the possibilities of ethics, work, and sex. If it were not for the Devil, we wouldn’t have anything like that, of course in the mystical sense. But to write those passages about a being that saved humanity from amorality, futility, and joylessness, that’s a heavy load.”

“That’s right. It’s vicious. Like most other myths regarding the origin of man. The agonizing punishments that such figures had to endure are almost unconscionable,” Stockwell pointed out.

Dr. Snyde looked healthy again.

“You’re alright now, right?”

“Yes, yes. But we must reach the initial stages of investigating this curiosity. There’s something that will be brought to your door like you have been brought to mine. Did you have a chance to be with your son by yourself?”

“Only my wife has been able to be with him all by herself for any extended period of time.”

“You’re going to have to find out if the date coincides with anything else. If 666 is going to be applicable only to your son, you’re going to want to research any other figures or events that would confirm his status as the Book of Revelation. John wrote that book to show what will come in the future. How we can tell the man had a penchant for showing his bizarre ideals and visions. Now…one of those looks into the future once thought of as mystical thoughts may yet be true. You and I both know better…but the idea of the number of a man not yet a man is what could arise.”

Stockwell shook Dr. Snyde’s hand.

“Thank you, Doctor. I’m going to go out on my own in this quest. I appreciate your guidance. Stay well.”

‘Absolutely, my son.”

When Stockwell reached his vehicle he had a twinge that said the good doctor will not be around much longer. He had been so zippy and spry as a professor a decade ago. With his angina, it seemed as if he would be slipping away at any moment. But the jewels that he dropped on him remained priceless. He knew now to investigate like a detective into his son’s peculiar disposition.

He drove to a pay phone outside of a convenience store.

“Yes, honey. I’m going to be out for a while now. It’s nothing. Really. Don’t be…I know…give my baby girls my best. But I’ve got to be on the road. It’ll be late, but I’ll be home. I love you. Kiss Ruler for me.”

The idea of his wife kissing the Devil incarnate struck him as odd somehow. He didn’t want to be the one but he had to be the one. He turned to the Newark Library. Once there, he checked microfiche and found a table where he could lay out all of the faith-based and philosophical literature he could find. Like an investigator on a murder case, he studied various materials to try to piece together his thoughts on this turn of events.

His research brought him to book after book but none of them gave him the impetus to discover more like Dr. Snyde. His assistance through this journey proved to be paramount thus far. Stockwell still hadn’t captured the very essence of his travels. He had not found the singular piece that would weave together a tapestry of truth.

When he had scrolled through his last microfiche and closed his last book on the subjects of transubstantiation, the death, resurrection, and seating of Jesus at the right hand of the Father and the origins of Satan who tempted Jesus in the desert, all of the different pieces became a blur of paper and film. He kept going.

“Sir, excuse me, sir? The library is now closing,” the librarian called with quiet strength.

Stockwell began packing up his materials and headed towards the check out line. People turned to him and almost stared. He had weighed himself down with tomes regarding what he thought would help him in his pursuit for reality and to keep going with his own sanity.

In his head, as he moved closer to the counter, he envisioned Gambina succumbing to the child they had made. Somehow in his thoughts he saw the baby reach up and strangle her to death. But that couldn’t be true either. The Devil was way more benevolent than he had first thought of in his studies. Satan just took the fall for everything when actually, God could have just written him out of the book altogether.

Stockwell laid all of the books out onto the counter.

“Really into the mystical, huh?” the clerk asked. “You should be glad that all of these are free.”

Stockwell offered a deadpan expression. The clerk noticed and flushed in embarrassment, realizing what he said was potentially offensive.

“Thank you,” Stockwell said.

“Did you want bags?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, please,” Stockwell replied.

He pushed all of the books into free tote bags. Stockwell carried the materials like a pack mule. After turning on the engine, he backed up and set out on an adventure.