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40 Victims of the Wedding 10 The Minotaur’s Tracks There was an inaudible, visceral rumbling in the night and the man and woman got up; they went out on the porch to see the cause. Down the hill, beyond the property line, there were explosions; spectral tanks raised their cannons in the starlight; concertina wire was strung across the road that ran by the house, and men and women wearing body armor maneuvered intricately and mysteriously in the middle distance. Meanwhile, people could be seen driving to work, walking their dogs, carrying bags of groceries past rows of foxholes; a minister performed a wedding next to a machine gun nest; children were playing, and shrapnel flew silently over the scene. They’re at it again, the woman said. The last time this happened, we were killed, the man answered. The woman put her arms around him and kissed him. I think we’ll be fine this time. When they came back inside, the angel and the daemon, who had been napping on their stools, leaning uncomfortably against each other, woke up. Another war, eh, the angel said. Looks like it, the daemon said, but our two here don’t seem worried. Why would they? the angel said. Together they are stronger than an army. You think so? the daemon said. Weren’t they killed once before? Oh, my friend, said the angel, even in their eternity things change, but never for the better or for the worse. They change because they change. ...


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MARC Record
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