On the eve of apocalypse

A private 777 jet began its descent into Heathrow Airport from Dallas, Texas. Six male passengers--members of the greatest rock band ever--sat aboard.

Twenty minutes later, the plane landed.

The passengers were missing.

Through a white mist up a long spiral walked the men. High above, the soul-faces of teen music legends looked down at them biding their time to award judgment.

And I, Counselor-angel to The Creator, watched the band ascend to meet their Maker.

A lead singer with dark brown mid back-length hair accentuated by sensuous bangs on a baby-face was slender, thin-lipped and of medium height. Voice a Godly gift--yet, some said, the devil's tool.

The tall, dirty-haired guitarist possessed an angular face and had hair growing on once-shaved sides of his head. Now without the screaming instrument he fired into immortality.

The dark, strapping bass player with Adonis black curls and eyes as black as Tyne Valley coal walked without his trademark gold chains.

The tall, lanky, beak-nosed, ringlet-haired master of many guitars worried over his past perversions.

The pot bellied, bikeresque synthesizer player famed for red hair wild as the wind, fiery as his brew, bore a downcast of regret.

A short, curly-blond percussionist once angered by lost love approached with the others to an unknown destination, glad with a full life behind him.

For they knew Who sat ahead.

They knew why He sat ahead.

And how would He judge them? For they were the prophesied band.

And at the moment the chosen were being reaped in a lightning flash before the biblical tribulation, their Creator waited for the six as I, His Counselor-angel, reviewed in the Book of Life the story of this prodigal band.

The Alpha

The Beforetime. The Creator. Sons of The Creator.

Then...

The light. Then...

The dark. When Corion, His ill-begotten son, used his serpent fire to make off with the Light, his Father banished him.

"Begone to the Darkness, Evil one, where your only sight will emanate from this."

A gold chain from which hung a red crystal beacon was flung around Corion's neck.

"But you will not be alone, errant son. Your Demons will sit beside you. And you will use your crystal sight to capture fellow souls--playthings for your evil designs. To make sure you can't wage war on Me again, My angelic muses, The Tooters, will guard over you."

The Tooters three sang as Corion and his Demons were cast into the Abyss forever,

Livin' fast and full they forgot one rule.
For every pleasure there's a measure of life
So slow and cruel.

Corion never escaped the Abyss. He grew in strength and prospered there, the world below unknowing of his Evil.

Until one day in 50 A.D. when Crynnwagg, High Priest of the Celtic Crag-Dwellers of Wales, came back from the dead, his blood having been drained by Druid priests.

Crynnwagg brought back from the Abyss Corion's legacies. And with the red crystal, the Crag-Dwellers dealt retribution on the Druids. They tied fourteen children to fourteen trees and burned them.

In the unification of Norman-ruled Britain in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the First Duke of Effingchester stole Crynnwagg's treasures--and with it, the power to summon The Evil.

July, 1136

Within his bed chamber, the Fourth Duke of Effingchester knelt before a stone altar. A pagan cross radiating from a sun-circle encasing a snake had been carved on it. He put his red crystal medallion around his wrinkled neck and called forth The Creator's outcast son, a god of darkness born in light.

"Corion, hear my prayer for help to defeat the Hovel Dwellers of the Wall Town. Send your legions to burn the victorious peasant army, and I will pay with my soul your allegiance Oath."

As The Demons crossed the dimensional barrier headed for Walltown to wreak havoc on the poor Hovels dwellers, The Creator called upon The Tooters.

"Make haste to the World beyond, to the Tyne River city of Walltown, where you will finally defeat Corion's minions. The men there are building a statue of winged trumpeters in which your beings will inhabit to watch over the Hovels and its Demons."

"How will we defeat The Demons, Our Creator?" Tooter Two, a mere child amongst its elders, asked.

"Understand The Plan, young Tooter. You three will wage protracted struggle without victory as The Demons capture wicked souls and grow stronger until both sides are evenly matched. More than eight-hundred world years will pass. Then, before the third millennium is upon this world, you must enlist a band of earthly troubadours to give our Message of Good to the world's youth and destroy the Evil of The Demons, who will also attempt to win this band. You must accomplish your task before The Evil unites the young and terror reigns."

Into the fire The Demons cast the Hovels. The Duke and the English king divided the spoils so that the Duke owned most of the land and its people.

An old witch protected and gifted by The Tooters with supernatural vision and hearing listened to The Demons vocalize the final verse of their Song over the smokey pall around her.

A song from Hell is learned so well
By all the wicked spirited.
They'll burn in fire and moan with ire
The Demons' sound, unlimited.

"You, old woman."

The witch of the Hovels turned her head upward when The Tooters spoke to her.

"You will be with us into the final battle to help our troubadours. Your survival to strengthen them in the face of The Demons that await them is our prophecy to you."

The witch then heard The Creator tell The Tooters, "Henceforth, you must enliven the souls of the people with The Word of My Spirit."

"The Code," wise Tooter Three said with hushed tones. "Loyalty, Honesty, Love, Good Will, to self, to thy neighbor, and, above all, to The Creator. Our troubadours must abide it, or their souls will perish."

The old woman heard The Creator tell his angels, "For this band and all men will come to believe their souls will rot in Hell who defile My Word."

She heard Tooter One ask, "Creator, what will this band be called?"

"They will be called the greatest rock band there ever was."

"Rock band?"
"Their name will be sound, unlimited."

That is, Sound Unltd.

Early morning, June 6, 1986

Bound to London for fame and fortune, sleepy-eyed band leader Jack Lubin lifted himself out of bed, went to his wash basin and communed aloud with the deities.

"If anyone is listening, please answer me. Look, man, we want to make it big--Beatles big! The greatest rock 'n roll band there ever was. We got the talent, we got the ambition, and I got the will to drive us. Do you think you can fix it fer us?"

"We hear you," a deep voice answered.

The eighteen-year-old guitarist stumbled backwards into a dresser drawer, aghast. "Who the hell are you?"

"One of your guardian angels, as you would call us. As for your wish, it's done."

"Huh? Just like that? By wishing fer it?"

"Of course, you won't make it right away. You'll have to work your way up like anyone else. That's so nobody suspects our pact."

"Our pact? "

"Yes. We will see you make your big break. And once you make it, no one will be able to stop you. Sound Unltd will be invincible. All you boys have to do is to prove you want it more than anything. More than anything!" The Demons laughed in uproar. "When the time is right, we'll name our price."

Jack shook. "A price? What you mean by that?"

"Well," the deep voice laughed, "you can't expect fame and fortune for nothing, can you?"

As the notion of paying a price for success swarmed in his head like attacking bees, Jack repeated out loud, "I didn't hear that. Just me imagination, eh?"

The Tooters heard the exchange and shuddered.

"What price?" the first Tooter asked.

"His eternal life?" asked the second.

"They will not sign a blood-pact right away," Tooter Three said. "The Demons will work their dastardly plan under the guise of building a one-world community. You know, on the eve of tribulation."

"Revelations!" The Plan awed Tooter One.

"Not merely for his soul or the souls of his four fellows. The Demons work to capture the souls of the young. Listen. Our boys will gain the world. But they won't be able to handle it. They'll step into a morass only calling on us will ease. Remember what The Creator told us. Those evil beings plan to use Sound Unltd to do their dirty work of calling the youth of this world once and for all to their Evil cause. This way, The Demons will ensure the spiritual enslavement of the children who worship a Sound Unltd elevated to godly status. Those five will be able to do anything they wish as long as they lead the young into degeneracy. The chaos and confusion of Corionic concepts."

"When will this happen?" Tooter Two worried. "Mustn't we give our boys our song now to prevent The Demons from capturing them?"

The eldest, wisest Tooter answered the youngest. "The Demons' work will begin when the five become six."

"Six!" The first Tooter gasped. "The number of Satan!"

"Don't interrupt our wisest one." The first spoke with irritation. "Go on, Tooter Three."

"Once they are six, The Demons will have the opportunity to make a blood-pact with them. They have the free will to accept the pact. The enticements will be many. Money, lavish homes and art works, women who would drive any man to the abyss of wasted soul. The six won't be able to resist such pleasures. No human can. But we must, against all odds, protect our troubadours, even if they don't want to be under our guidance. We will give them our song the night the deal with the sixth member is made. They won't understand our song and how it'll protect them, but they will see our song become what they call a mega-hit. Later, the boys will begin to unravel the mystery of our song."

"Will we lose contact with them in the between-time?"

"Yes. They will come under the spell of The Demons. So will the young of this world."

"Then, will we lose the battle with these monsters?"

"Battle? Maybe, Tooter Two. But not the war."