Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (7 page)

As I walk past the Swartberg Hotel, a farmer’s pickup truck with an open tray drives past. It is full of coloured workers being taken to the farm for the day’s work. Mesmerised, 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 is 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 a lift.

 
A couple of males yell out in Afrikaans. It was not a language I understood as a human, but being an angel I have the privilege of understanding all languages. I didn’t quite catch what they said through the rattling noise of the truck and chatter from their companions, but the gist seemed to be a little inappropriate. I looked down at what I am wearing. My deep blue and green full-length bodysuit with golden flecks is not a good way to blend in. As soon as they are out of sight I make myself invisible. I don’t want to stand out.
 

Not long after, I see her. Riding a bike down the street following 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 turning pushbike pedals as they respond from the commands of her feet. Her hair is in one of those tight African braids that show neat lines along her scalp. It looks gorgeous on her, accentuating her chocolate coloured face. Her happiness is catching, and I can’t tell if it's only that, or the fact that she is also attractive that makes her seem so beautiful. She is in her early twenties and is clearly happy with her life.

Dressed in slightly longer blue shorts and a simple black T-shirt with runners on her feet, she continues past me along the road. Wait, was that singing I can hear coming from her direction? The bike looks brand new. In the information I received of Louisa, it was a recent gift from her boss. Noticing that she was 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 do not know where she is going. It is not the usual path to her work. Perhaps she is just getting some more practice on her new gift.
 

I follow as she continues to travel along the lonely road. It is nearly an hour’s drive to the next town. We are a kilometre out of town when she stops and turns around. The temperature is rising despite the early hours of the morning. It is a dry heat not like the tropics, but this does not stop beads of sweat trickling down Louisa’s face. She raises a hand and wipes it away pressing along happily on her new bike.
 

A faint rumbling sound approaches from behind. I flick my wings and turn around in a quick spin. I can see my wings’ golden feathers glowing in the early morning sun. When I am invisible they are slightly transparent, this helps me see if I have turned on the invisibility correctly or not. Through my wings, I see the outline of a white car. I open my wings out wide and look between them. While focusing my vision, I assess the car. It is a new Mercedes. Narrowing my eyesight at the number plate I see it is not from around here. I turn around. Even though this place is in the middle of nowhere, it still attracts tourists.
 

Louisa is still pushing toward the town. She must be only half a kilometre away now and still going a good pace. When the car approaches her, it slows down and pulls over just in front. Her singing stops as she approaches the car. A pale skinned male opens the car door and steps out onto the road. He has a stocky build and looks in his mid-twenties. The sunglasses he wears covers a decent portion of his face, and he flashes Louisa a broad smile, showing off his white straight teeth. Stroking his fingers through his pale brown hair, that is long enough to touch the tops of his ears, he walks in her direction waving her down.
 

From above I circle, watching from a close distance. So far, the man just seems friendly, but my hairs are rising at the back of my neck. If I have 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 and only on a pushbike. Even in a trusting country town, it was good to see she had enough exposure to the outside world to be wary. Going to hearing distance only, she waits for him to speak.

He continues with his broad smile and says, “I was wondering if you can help me.” His English had an accent I recognised as Afrikaans. Does he not know he is in a mostly Afrikaans speaking area? “I think I am 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 am looking for this turn off here.” He steps closer again, making sure she can see.
 

Louisa leans forward. Instantly, he reaches forward and places an arm around her shoulders. The gesture seems friendly enough, except he walks her to the car. I see her body tense from where I am. She is 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 chocolate face turns the colour of milky coffee. 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 have 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 have appeared out of thin air. Giving her half a smile I hold a finger to my lips. She is going to be in shock later and will probably think she has 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 is 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. I see his eye catching sight of me 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 over a metre away from Louisa. Before he has time to react, I jump, spinning around and a heel connects to the side of his head. I land balanced on my feet. I watch as he falls to the ground with a thud. I stand over him to assess the damage. He is knocked unconscious. I straighten up and look at Louisa. She is still in shock.
 

“It’s okay now.” I try to reassure her. “I will handle him from here.”
 

She says nothing. Her face is still a pale coffee colour 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 assist her home.
 

She nods and staggers to her bike picking it up from the side of the road. She throws a leg over the bar 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 am preaching but this is not my intention, so I flick my hand in an off you go movement and say, “Take care.”

She nods and presses down on the pedal, pushing back to Prince Albert.

The warm exploding sensation fills my body. I have protected my Innocent.

My eyes wander over the desert plains and hills. There is not 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 white 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 cannot find what caused him to change. I remove the finger and sit on my heels. 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 has committed many evils.
 

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

The car is pulled far enough off the road. I place a hand on it and make it invisible, I pick him up and release my golden wings. Jumping into the air, I fly to a place out of sight in case someone passes. Flying to the middle of a small cluster of hills I place him down on the ground. A snake sees me and slides away 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 do not force a conscience on him before returning to base, I will be in a lot of trouble from the archangels and possibly sent to the abyss. But then, 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 casting a shadow briefly over us. I look up just in time to see it scoop and pick up the snake that had slithered away only moments before.
 

The heat of the desert is warming up as the day progresses. Being engrossed in my dilemma I have lost track of time. I look at the man again. He is starting to sweat under the sun. I see a medium sized 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 straight, I hear a whoosh behind me. Surprised by the sound, I turn. My eyes fall on Blue. His dark brown eyebrows are crushed together.

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

My shoulders slump. I look past his bare torso to the charm hanging from his pants. The colourful angel is glowing again. I try to stall for time, so I point to it and ask the obvious, “Did the charm dob me in 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 job and headed back?” He looks at the unconscious man lying under the tree. “Clearly you have succeeded in your mission up until the final part.”

“I . . . I . . . What if there was another way?” I stammer.
 

He looks at me and his creases in his forehead deepen. He is worried. I can see it. I am putting him through stress he doesn’t need. He probably thinks I am about to lose my sanity.
 

“I don’t want to say this because I know you heard it before,” he says, “but we have to do what is expected of us. It is why we were created. These people will not stop.” His arms are spread out to the side, with his palms up. “Please, just finish the job 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 am putting you through this. I was trying to work it out on my own. I have had a look into his mind and soul, and again I see good. It is in the past, but I see it. Do you not wonder what made these people change?”

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

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

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

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

His eyes study my face. He releases my shoulders and strolls over to the unconscious man. Crouching down he places a finger on his forehead. A white light shines through it.
 

I study his face. It is etched with sadness.
 

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

“But?” I ask.

“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 am not happy. Maybe Blue is not the sensitive guy I thought he was.
 

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. Or, if we leave him and we try to get him to regrow a conscience then he may not change, and I will lose you.” He sits on his heels. “I am certain the archangels will not 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 are not a weak soul, but if you cannot do this, I will do it for you.”

I am shocked. “But, you can’t do that. They will find out,” I say.
 

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

“I don’t want you to put yourself on the line for me,” I say. “This is my problem, my mess.”

He lifts one side of his mouth and says, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

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