A Guardian Angel (42 page)

“No,”
Andy almost spat. “Of course not.”

“So you'll
join us?”

“Who is 'us,'
exactly?” Andy asked. He was allowed to stand up again as
everyone started moving back to the truck.

“We're the
resistance, man,” the blond talkative militant replied.

“Some of the
guys call us the American Prevailers. Don't even think it's proper
grammar. But we're fighting those things,” Barney said. “And
we're getting our loved ones back from their prison. We've been
wandering together for only one day, but in that time we've gained a
lot of techniques.” He bent down and pointed to the severed
nubs on the creature's back where its wings had once been. “You
have to cut off their wings. Nothing can touch their skin, no matter
how hard you try.” He demonstrated by stabbing at the torso.
The blade nearly reached the surface of the skin, but never could. It
was like trying to push matching poles of magnets together.

Andy observed with
cautious eyes. “So you really think you can fight them?”
he asked. He noticed Davey watching their conversation out of the
corner of his eye.

“Oh yes,”
Barney replied. “Do you know how many people there are on
earth? If just the smallest fraction fought against them, we could
send them packing. They don't even use weapons.”

“You
mentioned a prison?” Andy commented.

“Yeah, their
gigantic interrogation center in D.C. where they've been taking
everyone,” Barney replied. “They've taken so many people.
The presidents of every nation at least, they took all the cops and
military men. Snatched up that Flynn girl who doesn't even fight.”

At this, Andy
jolted a bit and blinked. He did his best to play it off coolly.
“Everyone?” Andy echoed.

The militant leader
nodded. “Our attack is set for tomorrow. We're going to free
and arm as many people as we can and hold our last stand there.”

“Is that the
plan?” Andy asked for confirmation.

“Yes,”
Barney stated.

“Then I guess
I'm in,” the hitman said.

With the expression
of a man who hated everything about his current situation, Andy ate
his sandwich behind a rock, away from the fire. In the warm glow was
where the rest of the men sat except for two who adjusted their
seating so they could keep an eye on the hitman. Warm waves of sweat
washed over Andy, his skin growing hot and his heart beating fast
whenever he remembered the psychopath that he was stuck with. He kept
his eye over his shoulder in fear that Davey would sneak up behind
him and stick him with his iconic blade.

He could overhear
the men by the fire speak. Without noises to muffle them, their
voices carried quite clear to his ear.

“You used to
be Decree, didn't you?” one voice said.

Barney's voice was
the one that replied. “Yeah, for a small period,” it
said.

“And then you
used to be one of the Knight people, didn't you Walt?”

“That's
true.”

“That's who
we were,” Barney commented. “We may have been against
each other at one point, but wouldn't you say we're all in the same
boat by now?”

Andy opened up the
water bottle that they had given him and sipped it. It was Davey who
came around the rock without warning and sat beside him.

“Hey buddy,”
Davey said in a familiar manner. “How you doing? Eating
enough?”

Andy did not look
at the murderer as he finished his gulp. “Get the hell out of
my face,” he hissed.

“Oh, come on,
cut it with the hostility, Andy,” Davey told him. “I'm
not going to hurt you yet. I'm much more interested in Miss Flynn.”

Andy's eyes shot
wide open and his jaw clenched.

“Oh yes, I
recognize the name quite well from several of my episodes,”
Davey explained. “You may have hid it from the rest of them,
but I saw your look of recognition when she was mentioned. I know you
care about her. That makes this so much better.”

“If you touch
her,” Andy started, “I'll kill you.”

Davey laughed as he
sat himself in a much more comfortable position next to the hitman.
He patted Andy on the back. “Not if I kill you first,” he
replied. “You know, I never really told anyone the story of my
escape from Los Angeles. The horrible things I saw. It might be my
last time to breathe a word of it.”

“I should
hope,” Andy retorted.

“Come on,
Andy,” Davey grinned at him. “Maybe you can get to know
me better. Let me tell you my story.”

-Chapter Thirty-Nine-

City
of Angels

“It was only
a little under a month ago that the Decree puppies came into Los
Angeles, wouldn't you say?” Davey asked. “Where were you
then? Were you around there? Anyway, it was kind of funny to me how
no alarm, no heads up was given to anyone in the city when it
happened. There were just so god damn many of us strolling the
streets, running errands, going on dates, being heathens. Then it was
boom, boom, boom. These explosions went off on the sides of buildings
and in the street, just spraying rubble all around. Throwing stones
at people and blowing them apart.

“At the time,
I was just eating a pot pie. I was in one of the lobbies for the
studio. It was the one with the patio furniture indoors. I always
thought that was weird. One of the shells that they were hurtling
down on us went through the glass ceiling and right into the
receptionist's desk. Dear God, you had never seen such a mess in all
your life, Andy. There was this one really lovely, very confident
looking middle eastern woman in a sage colored blazer that was
standing pretty close to the counter when the shell went off. Poor
darling was wounded, unable to stand on her own. I was terrified!
There was blood everywhere; glass shattered all over the smoky floor.
Still, I managed to stand up on my violently shaking knees and move
over to her, bracing for anything. She begged me for help, and I told
her to save her energy, then I picked her up and carried her out the
front door.

“I had no
clue where the shells were coming from. I didn't even think about how
safe the route I'd chosen would be but instead of how quickly we must
go down it. My head turned stupidly from side to side as I jogged
with the woman in my arms. She made horrible, childish noises of
terror. Her voice was fading. I looked everywhere I could for some
help but all I found were frantic herds of people running about.
There were more explosions detonating in the background. I look down
in my arms and I realize that all I'm doing is carrying a dead body.
There was no way to describe quite how I felt then. I look back and
realize that I am weak. That I am too soft to contemplate the stress
I was under and I used terror and grief as an excuse to quit. That
will get you
killed
.

“I didn't
stay long. My mind sort of cleared up a bit, like I had caught this
good whiff of concentration. Do you know what I mean? My family came
to my mind and I was off. I didn't give a shit about anything but
getting to them that instant. There was a car idling in the middle of
the street as I ran with the door ajar and no one in it. The keys
were in the ignition so I just hopped my happy self in the cab and
sped off.

“Disoriented,
it took me too long to get home. The entire drive, my feet were just
getting this terrible icy numb sensation about the base of the toes
that drove me up the wall; like an itch. My muscles twitched
sometimes like they do when you resist that itch for a long time,
trying to will it away. I felt hot in my throat but cold in my
churning stomach. Anyway, enough about feelings. These are all just
feelings.

“Guess what
was there when I got home? Lilith and Alexa, my two little daughters
had been murdered and left lying upon the dining table. This was
right in the entrance of the house; the very first thing that I see.
Lilly was nine, and Alexa was ten. They were such smart, clever
little children with nothing but dreams and hope. NOTHING BUT LOVE
AND A DESIRE TO GIVE! I – I can't even – talk about –
IT'S THE FINAL. STRAW. ANDY. You understand?

“I couldn't
keep walking, couldn't keep standing. I dropped down hard onto my
knees and wept. Just cried and cried and cried without noticing the
racket upstairs. I tried to muffle myself, but the noise carried. The
commotion stopped, and after just an intsy little pause, there was a
gunshot. Feet came down the stairs and three Decree soldiers were
there, pointing their guns at me.

“'Who are
you?' they ask. One of them lowered his gun and said to the other,
'Oh my God, I think that's Davey Tolmes.' He was so god damn excited.
Like I was going to give him an autograph or something. They grabbed
me and dragged me upstairs to my bedroom. Jana was on the bed with a
hole in her chest. The life was gone from her eyes as well.

“'Why?!' I
screamed at them. 'Why the fuck did you do this to me?!' They didn't
have an answer. Of course they didn't. They barely even acknowledged
that I was yelling at them as they giggled excitedly. One of them
said, 'Get a picture of me with Davey Tolmes!'

“The entire
time I was on my knees with my head bowed in grief, I felt around
behind me. My ornamental knife was somewhere on the floor by me. I
had noticed it knocked off the wall when I had first come in. When
the bastard picked me up so that he could pose with his gun in my
face and a huge, dumb smile on his broad, shit eating face, I dug my
knife into it. Instantly, I spun the fat mercenary around and pushed
him toward his friends, who had no idea what the hell to do. They
started fiddling around with their rifles, trying to turn the safety
back on, but it was too late. I was already on them and I slashed one
throat wide open. I had no idea what my own body was doing as I
turned to the last one, who fired and hit me in my side. Just a
little nick. I jumped onto his chest and stabbed him in the face over
and over again. It took about five good plunges before the son of a
bitch stopped screaming.

“I dropped my
knife and I looked at the carnage all around me. I was shocked,
horrified. My finger trembled, but my breathing was clear. My heart
pounded with both fear and excitement. It came to me, how
terrifyingly easy it is to kill. How, once pushed, snuffing a life
out becomes a reward; the fruit of an effort. Something you really
want to do. Anyone can have it. That was the first time I ever killed
anyone, and since then, it has just never been that good. Because
they deserved it.

“They killed
my children, Andy. They raped and shot my wife. I have no remorse for
what I did. Yet, through all the seething anger, I wasn't mad at the
Decree Nation. My anger was not at an entire military or country but
just these three men. I realized that a uniform didn't commit these
horrifying crimes. Men did. Human fucking beings.”

Davey cleared his
throat. Andy remained silent, staring with menace into the murderer's
eyes as he spoke. “Mankind,” Davey scoffed. “You
can all burn for all I care.”

-Chapter Forty-

Evil

There was no breeze
by the tree where Haley stood with the suited Guardian. She had spent
the last dozen minutes or so trying to defend the whole of humanity
to the creature. It sat and listened with disciplined patience, its
blank head nodding every so often to demonstrate its attention. Her
cheeks grew red with frustration at the lack of things she had to say
in the end of saving the world. After a good while, she began to
wonder if all she did was blow smoke. Even though the being
frightened her a lot, it was well mannered and polite. If anyone
would listen, it would be this one.

“The reasons
you are giving me are trivial at best,” it interrupted once her
argument had started to repeat itself. “I am joyful at your
value for sentiment, but emotional drives and intentions do not
interest me. It's more than the thought that counts. You must tell me
why everyone deserves to continue destroying this perfect little
planet if they show no traits of an evolved life form. Nothing more
than a pseudo attempt at cooperation, not only with yourselves, but
with your mother Earth.”

Haley broke down.
“I don't know what to say!” she cried. “Nothing I
can tell you will make any difference. Maybe one day, we can be a
perfect race living in a utopia, but for now be have nothing to show
but filth.” She sobbed.

As she cried into
her palms, the Guardian reached out with its hand and grasped her
shoulder comfortingly. She did nothing to stop it and only heaved
harder with emotion at its powerful touch.

“Then you
understand,” it said.

The men at the camp
prepared as well as they could for the coming evening once the sun
rose. They all were instructed to eat heartily and rest well so that
their strength was at its peak. Andy participated in blade practice
with the men. Barney had given him an old civil war saber to use as
his weapon. He was good at the fluid movement in swordplay. His many
years of martial arts practice came into use through his blade.
Barney expressed that he was impressed by Andy's capabilities.