Accidental God 2.0 -- Section 18

[This is just a short section. There's more about Rae and Luther written, but it's not done yet and I need to go help bed time along. Anyway, more than six-hundred words are written, but that'll have to happen tomorrow. Sorry for the creeping pace, but I'll try to be steady.]

    Luther’s doorbell rang.
    “It’s open!” he yelled. He felt confident it was Rae. He didn’t remember anyone ever ringing his doorbell in this apartment--Atty had pounded on the door. In fact, he’d forgotten what the bell sounded like. It was bland. A bland bell. Maybe he should get it changed. What did someone have to do to get a new doorbell? Was there a doorbell store out there?
    He looked up from his desk to see Rae standing in the door of his study.
    “Hey, Rae.”
    She looked around the room. “Oh my,” she said.
    “What is it?” asked Luther, looking around. “Is there something wrong?”
    “Your stuff.”
    Luther looked at her questioningly, so she went on.
    “You don’t have anything new in here.”
    “New isn’t always better.”
    “True, but you also don’t have anything old. No antiques, nothing quality. When did you get all this stuff?”
    “The fifties?”
    Rae poked at his recliner and sighed. “Not this. This is screaming at me that it came from the seventies. When we go shopping, we’re also getting you new furniture.”
    “But I just lost my job.”
    “Seriously, Luther? You’re short on money?”
    “Well...no. But it feels wrong to buy stuff when I’m unemployed.”
    “You’ll have to compromise your standards, just this once.” Rae looked at the phone in Luther’s hand. “What are you up to?”
    “Making calls. You heard the news?”
    “Nope. I’m taking a break from the media, trying to catch up on some reading. Some books have been on my list for over three-hundred years, and I decided it was time to get serious. Did something happen?”
    Luther picked up a newspaper and spun it so it landed on his desk, facing Rae. She walked over and put her finger under the headline: Zed is dead.
    “Is this some kind of joke?”
    Luther shrugged one shoulder. “Seems like it should be, doesn’t it. Some assassin got him in his home. Forgotten Zed is done.”
    “That’s insane.”
    Luther nodded.
    “Also insensitive.”
    Luther snorted. “Yeah, killing someone has to be the pinnacle of insensitivity.”
    Rae rolled her eyes. “I meant the headline.”
    “Oh. Yeah, that, too. But it was probably inevitable. I mean, it does rhyme.”
    Rae was ignoring him, skimming over the article with her finger. He waited while she finished, then they just looked at each other.
    “Wow,” she said, finally.
    “Yep.”
    “So you’ve been calling people?”
    “Yeah. Reaching out to some old friends, trying to find out what’s going on.”
    “You think this is the start of a divine war?”
    Luther shook his head. “None of my friends have heard anything, and another article in the paper says TCD doesn’t think so, either. They think it’s an isolated thing.”
    Rae walked backwards and sat down in the recliner. “That’s a relief. Last thing we need is another World War.”
    Luther leaned back in his chair. “Absolutely not. I’ve got a few more people I can call to make sure. Should we skip lunch today?”
    “No!” Rae almost jumped to her feet. “We are going to lunch. We didn’t get you this far just to let you slip back again. Stand up.”
    “Hang on,” said Luther. “‘We?’ What do you mean by ‘we didn’t get you this far?’”
    Rae walked around Luther’s desk and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. “I mean Atty and me, of course. Didn’t I tell you? You’re all that we talk about.”
    “Stop that.”
    “Get up, get up.”
    “I don’t have shoes on.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t wear them at home. I prefer stocking feet.”
    “That’s weird.”
    “Why is that?”
    “You’ve only been making shoes for the last thousand years.”
    “Eight-hundred.”
    “And you go around in socks when you have the chance.”
    “All right, I guess that is a little weird. Maybe I am in denial about shoes.”
    “Among other things,” said Rae. “Get yours on.”