Afterlife BoxSet Page 5

  In my peripheral vision, I see Archangel Michael turn back and head our way again. I spin to face him and so does Blue. We’re soldiers, fighters for the Angel Army. We’re supposed to stand at attention.

  “Fledglings, you are dismissed,” Archangel Michael finishes.

  I exhale, glad it’s over. At the same time, I worry about my new mission and how I’m to handle the conflict of interest.

  Blue moves closer. He’s about to talk when something barges into me on my right side. I turn to see who it is. Yellow is inches away from my face.

  “You went to check on your perpetrator?” Yellow blurts out in a whisper. Her eyes are wide with shock. “Are you mad? You’re going against the rules and good advice, causing yourself trouble.”

  I take a step back, gaining some personal space. My shoulders slouch forward. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it.” Forcing a smile, I try to look sincere. “Don’t worry. I won’t do it again.”

  “Well, I should hope not. You’re playing with fire doing silly things like that. I’d hate to lose you, or know you’re locked up in the abyss. I can’t think of anything worse. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

  “It’s all right, Yellow. Stop stressing. I won’t do it again.” I look deep into her golden-brown eyes, making a promise I know I won’t be able to keep.

  - Chapter Six -

  My next mission is in Prince Albert, South Africa. The atmosphere couldn’t be more opposite to the city of London. It’s a small town in the middle of a desert. I’ve gone from cold and cloudy weather to hot and sunny. The streets are empty of vehicles and people. It’s a quaint little town in the middle of the rolling hills at the gateway to the Great Karoo.

  I land in a secluded place behind some trees and fold away my wings. I’m greeted by the fresh smell of early morning mixed with the scent of blossoming flowers. I walk down Church Street past the Dutch Reformed Church. My intuition tells me I should walk this way. Despite the place seeming so dry, established bushes grow between the buildings. The street is lined with a mixture of shops, galleries, antique stores, and a handful of restaurants. The surrounding houses are a mixture of Dutch, Karoo, Victorian, and French homes as well as other styles with which I’m not familiar.

  As I walk past the Swartberg Hotel, a farmer’s pickup truck with an open bed drives past. It’s full of day laborers, their skin a blended colour mixed between dark and pale. They’re being taken to a farm for the day’s work. Mesmerized, I watch as it drives past. Laughter and chatter fill the air. There must be at least twenty standing people crammed in the back. It’s such a contrast to the country of my last life. In Australia, this is illegal, if not highly frowned upon, but each of the workers seemed happy and grateful for the lift.

  A couple of males yell out in Afrikaans. It’s not a language I understood as a human, but as an angel I’ve the privilege of understanding all languages. I don’t quite catch what they say through the rattling noise of the truck and chatter from their companions, but the gist seems to be a little inappropriate. I looked down at what I’m wearing. My full-length bodysuit isn’t a good way to blend in. As soon as they’re out of sight, I make myself invisible. I don’t want to stand out.

  Then I see her. Riding a bike down the street, going in the direction of the pickup truck, is my next Innocent. Her high cheekbones are pushed higher thanks to her smile. A soft churning and clinking sound comes from her bicycle pedals as they respond to the commands of her feet. Her hair is braided in cornrows. It looks gorgeous on her, accentuating her face. Her happiness is catching and seems to make her even more beautiful. She’s in her early twenties and is clearly happy with her life. Wait, is that singing I can hear coming from her direction?

  Dressed in long blue shorts and a simple black T-shirt with sneakers on her feet, she continues past me along the road. The bike looks brand new. From the information I received of Louisa, it’s a recent gift from her boss. Noticing that she’s riding at a fairly fast pace, I release my wings and fly above her. She doesn’t slow down as she rides past all the main buildings and out of town.

  I don’t know where she’s going. I believe it’s not the usual path to her work. Perhaps she’s just getting some more practice on her new gift.

  I follow as she continues to travel along the lonely road. The distance is nearly an hour’s drive by car to the next town. We’re half a mile out of town when she stops and turns around. The temperature is rising despite the early hours of the morning. The air holds a dry heat, not like the tropics, but this doesn’t stop beads of sweat from trickling down Louisa’s face. She raises a hand, wipes it away, and presses along happily on her new bike.

  A faint rumbling approaches from behind. I flick my wings and spin around. I can see my wings’ golden feathers glowing in the early morning sun. When I’m invisible, they’re slightly transparent, which helps me see if I’ve turned on the invisibility correctly or not. Through my wings, I see the outline of a white car. I spread my wings out wide and assess the car. It’s a new Mercedes. Squinting at the license plate, I see it’s not from around here. Even though this place is in the middle of nowhere, it still attracts tourists.

  I turn around. Louisa is still peddling toward the town. She must be only a quarter mile away and still going a good pace. The car approaches her, slows down, and pulls over just in front of her. She stops singing and stops before she reaches the car.

  A pale man opens the car door and steps onto the road. He’s a stocky build and looks to be in his midtwenties. The sunglasses he wears covers a decent portion of his face, and he flashes Louisa a broad smile, showing off his straight, white teeth. Stroking his fingers through his pale-brown hair, which is long enough to touch the tops of his ears, he walks in her direction.

  I circle above, watching. So far, the man just seems friendly, but my hair is rising on the back of my neck. If I’ve been sent here at this moment to protect Louisa, this could be the perpetrator.

  I can hear the engine still running as Louisa slows to a stop. She doesn’t look comfortable. There are no choices available to her out in the middle of nowhere with only on a bicycle. Even in a trusting country town, it’s good to see she’s had enough exposure to the outside world to be wary. She waits for him to speak.

  Still smiling, he says, “I’m wondering if you can help me.”

  I recognize his English accent as Afrikaans. Does he not know he’s in a mostly Afrikaans-speaking area?

  “I think I’m lost.” He pulls out a paper map from his pocket. It surprises me in this technology age, and he steps closer to her to show her his map. “I’m looking for this turnoff here.” He steps closer again, making sure she can see.

  Louisa leans forward. Instantly, he reaches out and places an arm around her shoulders. The gesture seems friendly enough, except he walks her to the car. From where I am, I can see her body tense . She’s not comfortable with his embrace. She twists in the opposite direction, escaping his hold. Stepping back away from him, she trips on a clump of desert grass on the side of the road.

  He reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun. He aims it at her and demands, “Get in the car.”

  Her face turns pale. She stares at him unmoving and in shock.

  He steps forward, holding the gun firmly in his two hands, pointing it at her. “I said, get in the car.”

  She looks down the main road to Prince Albert. Not one car is in sight. Slowly, she crawls to her feet.

  When I’ve seen enough, I land softly on the ground behind him. Folding my wings away, I make myself visible. Louisa spots me and stares. I don’t blame her, considering I’ve appeared out of thin air. Giving her half a smile, I hold a finger to my lips. She‘s going to be in shock later and will probably think she imagined this. I indicate to her to move to her left at the count of three. I hope she understands, but if she doesn’t, she should still be safe—it’s just a precaution. I hold up my hand in a fist, the inside facing her. I lift my index finger—one. I lift my middle finger—two. I lift my third finger—three.

  Instantly she dives to her left. At the same time, I step to his right. His eyes catch sight of me and then bulge. He’s too late. With a palm strike, I slam straight into his outstretched hands, sending them pointing to his left. A shot fires, but it lands in the desert more than three feet away from Louisa. Before he has time to react, I jump, spinning around and my heel connects to the side of his head. I land balanced on my feet. As he falls to the ground with a thud, I stand over him to assess the damage. He’s knocked unconscious.

  Straightening up, I look at Louisa. She’s still in shock. “It’s okay now.” I try to reassure her. “I’ll handle him from here.”

  She says nothing. Her face is still a pale-coffee color as she stares at me with her full lips stretched open.

  “Are you okay to ride home?” I ask. I understand her shock, but I need to deal with the man, and I don’t want to rush it this time. I can’t do that and help her get home.

  She nods and staggers to her bike, picking it up from the side of the road. She throws a leg over the bar and then turns to me at the last moment. “Thank you,” she mutters.

  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” I smile. “Now go and keep living your caring, open life. Okay? Don’t let this change you.” I sound like I’m preaching, but this isn’t my intention so I flick my hand in an off you go movement and say, “Take care.”

  She nods and steps down on the pedal, riding back to Prince Albert.

  The warm exploding sensation fills my body. I’ve protected my Innocent.

  My eyes wander over the desert plains and hills. There isn’t a soul in sight. I squat down and touch a finger to the man’s forehead. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be giving him a conscience, but I need to know. A whit
e glow exits my finger as I look into his mind and soul. I witness bad, lots of bad, especially in the recent past. I dig a little deeper, and I begin to observe traces of good and innocence. I see days when he used to be happy and willing to help people. What changed? I search deeper. I can see more good, but I can’t find what caused him to change.

  I remove my finger and sit back. How am I supposed to insert a conscience into him that could kill him, when it’s clear he used to be good? Maybe he could be coerced into being good again and grow a conscience, rather than being bombarded with one right after he’s committed many evils.

  Conflicted, I stand and pace next to his body. I need more time.

  The car is safely pulled far enough off the road. Placing a hand on it, I make it invisible, then pick him up, release my golden wings, and fly to a place out of sight in case someone passes. I place him down in the middle of a small cluster of hills. A snake sees me and disappears into the desert grass. Happy to be left alone, I sit and observe the man while he lies motionless.

  What am I supposed to do? If I don’t force a conscience on him before returning to base, I’ll be in a lot of trouble with the archangels and possibly sent to the abyss. But on the other hand, if I do as required and insert him with a conscience, he might kill himself or go insane from the guilt. What about all the good inside him?

  I place my head in my hands. I don’t know how long I sit there. A hawk screeches overhead, briefly casting a shadow over us. I look up just in time to see it scoop up the snake that’d slithered away earlier.

  The desert is warming up as the day progresses, and the man is starting to sweat under the sun. I see a medium-size tree not far away, so I pick him up and carry him to it, placing him in the small amount of shade. As I stand up, a whoosh sounds behind me. Surprised by the sound, I turn. My eyes fall on Blue. His dark-brown eyebrows are crushed together with worry.

  “What’re you doing?” he asks. His voice leaks concern. The sunlight catches on his magnificent wings.

  My shoulders slump. I look past his bare torso to the charm hanging from his pants. The colorful angel is glowing again. I try to stall for time, so I point to it and ask the obvious, “Did the charm report me again?”

  He raises an eyebrow and nods. “Hey,” he says softly as he walks forward. “You’re concerning me. Why haven’t you finished your mission and headed back?” He looks at the unconscious man lying under the tree. “Clearly you’ve succeeded in your mission up until the final part.”

  “I . . . I . . . What if there’s another way?” I stammer.

  He looks at me and the worry creases in his forehead deepen. I’m putting him through stress he doesn’t need. He probably thinks I’m about to lose my sanity.

  “I don’t want to say this because I know you’ve heard it before,” he says, “but we have to do what’s expected of us. It is why we were created. These people won’t stop.” His arms are spread out to the side with his palms up. “Please, just finish the mission and let’s go. I couldn’t bear it if you were exiled or sent to the abyss.”

  “I know . . . and I’m sorry that I’m putting you through this. I was trying to work it out on my own. I’ve had a look into his mind and soul, and again I see good. It’s in the past, but I see it. Do you not wonder what made these people change?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. I’ve been concentrating on what I’m trained to do—be a good warrior, obey orders, and protect the Innocents.”

  He steps forward, holding my shoulders gently; his voice is pleading. “I know this’s what you want, too, but somehow you seem to get emotionally involved. It’s messing you up. There are casualties in war, and this’s a war to protect the Innocents.”

  In many ways he reminds me of Archangel Michael but with a modern, softer side. He’d be an incredible warrior if he ignored me.

  I look deep into his eyes. “Just humor me, please. Take a look into his soul.”

  He studies my face, releases my shoulders, and strolls over to the unconscious man. Then he crouches down and places a finger on the man’s forehead. A white light glows from it.

  I study his face. It’s etched with sadness.

  A few minutes later he releases his finger and looks at me. Hesitantly he says, “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “But?”

  “A conscience must still be inserted into him,” Blue says slowly.

  “What?” I cross my arms. “After all you just saw, you still want to take the risk?” I’m not happy. Maybe Blue isn’t the sensitive guy I think he is.

  His eyes are pleading. “The way I see it, both ways are a risk. If we insert a conscience, then we risk him killing himself or going insane. But, if we leave him and try to get him to regrow a conscience, then he may not change, and I’ll lose you.” He sits back on his feet. “I’m certain the archangels won’t smile down on you for disobeying their orders.” He stands and makes his way over to me. Looking me in the eyes he says, “I know you’re not a weak soul, but if you can’t do this, I’ll do it for you.”

  I’m shocked. “But, you can’t do that. They’ll find out.”

  “We don’t know that. Maybe they’ll not see it.” He shakes his head.

  “I don’t want you to put yourself on the line for me—this’s my problem, my mess.”

  Lifting one side of his mouth in a half-smile he says, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  I turn away to ponder while looking at the desert plains. It’s a strange desert—dry but not completely barren and used as good farming lands for produce and ostriches. After a few moments, still undecided, I turn back. I see Blue crouching over the man. He’s already inserting a conscience. I remain torn, but he’s made the decision for me.

  When completed, he scoops up the man and flies him back to his car. Following, I assist him by making the car visible again, so he can return him to the driver’s seat. I’m sure this man will be in for a shock when he wakes.

  When Blue finishes, he turns to me and says, “Come on. Let’s go back before our absence is noticed.”

  I want to hang around and see what happens to the man, except Blue has already grabbed my hand. He pushes into the air, and we start to fly. I flap my wings with my eyes on the car until it’s no longer visible.

  - Chapter Seven -

  With each stroke of the wings, my guilt impales its piercing claws farther into my conscience. Blue has broken the rules all because of me. I’m dragging down my best friend. A sickness fills my stomach. He can’t be dragged down because of me—he just can’t.

  We’re almost back to our base. The smell of the salty seawater is strong. I look down and see a small gathering of rocks pushed up in the ocean where seagulls and other seabirds are squawking and chattering. A thought hits me. I look to my right and see Blue flying strong and steady.

  “Blue,” I call out.

  Before now, our flight has been silent. Not a word has been uttered between us. He looks at me with a curious expression.

  I point down below. “Let’s land for a minute.”

  He nods and angles his legs so he lands feetfirst on the rocky island. I do the same and land next to him amid a spray of feathers and dust stirred by our wings. A couple of birds nearby take flight immediately, startled by our presence. The remainder of the birds on the island continue on with their business. They know that angels are not a cause for concern.

  “What’s up?” he asks. His dark-brown eyebrows are pushed together.

  I see the worry on his face, and I sigh. “I’ve been thinking; there must be a way to block the archangels from seeing everything in our mind. I think we should stop for a bit and give it a go.”

  He raises one side of his mouth in a half-smile. “There you go again, thinking outside the box with the rebel’s heart.” He shakes his head. “And to think that the last six months I thought you were a good girl.”

  “Hey!” I pretend to be hurt. “That’s rich coming from someone who just broke the rules.”

  The smile drops from his face, and I shut my mouth. I realize what I’ve just said and shake my head.

  “What I mean to say . . . is . . . thanks.” I stumble out. “What you did means a lot to me, but I don’t need you getting into trouble.”