Broken Angels

by Harambee K. Grey-Sun

  “Let’s go get some fresh air.” He smiled at her. She didn’t return the expression of mock friendliness, but Ava walked next to him as he headed toward the elevator.

  “What was that crack about doubting?” she asked as they waited for the cab to descend. “Doubting my surprise that I’m not worse off than Sam says I am?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ava looked at him. Robert knew she was trying to draw his eye to hers. He wasn’t going for it. She couldn’t make him nervous. Not someone of his mettle. But the effect of her stare, the effect of just knowing she was staring at him, made the side of his face feel tingly, and increasingly cold.

  Finally he said, “It’s just that most angels tend to be in pretty bad shape.”

  “Why?” Ava asked.

  He sighed. “Seems like we’re all in a never-ending battle with ourselves.”

  Ava turned away from him. Maybe not a satisfactory answer, but his face felt warm again. Had it just been his imagination, or was something going on with those freaky eyes of hers, something Sam hadn’t told him about?

  Neither of them spoke until the elevator’s door opened. Robert nodded and waved, again the gentleman, allowing her to enter the cab first.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Ava said, “I’d think you didn’t want to turn your back on me.”

  “I’m sure you know better,” he said.

  As the elevator cab began its ascent, Robert thought it a good idea to clue Ava in on something before they entered the company of others.

  “By the way,” he said, “most of the general public doesn’t know that angels are among them. The things we can do, the facts of our condition. A lot of time, effort, and energy have been put into a massive propaganda campaign by the HSA to convince people that when they see us performing spontaneous light-shows or something, they’re really just witnessing the performance of some kind of amateurish magic tricks.”

  “Magic tricks?” Ava looked disgusted. “And people actually believe that?”

  “Yeah. It’s shocking what people will buy into. Must be something in the water.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why is the government doing this?”

  Robert chuckled. “Do you really think the country, the world could handle knowing that angels are living and breathing next to them?”

  “They’re going to have to face up to it sooner or later.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “A lot of us are going to have to face up to all sorts of surprises sooner or later. But for right now, we have to be careful about how we conduct ourselves in public. There are other stories floating around out there about our kind, in the news and elsewhere. Scary and dangerous stories. The HSA’s propaganda has been trying to counter some of them and keep the populace relatively calm.”

  “Calm? In the world we’re living in?”

  “Sometimes it’s wiser not to let too many see too clearly,” Robert said. “True magicians never reveal their secrets, and—”

  “Neither do angels.”

  “That’s the spirit.” And that settled it in Robert’s mind. It wasn’t simple amnesia. Since she was such a rare type of Virus-carrier, he could almost buy that she never considered herself as having the White Fire Virus, even if she’d heard about it before she’d contracted it. But the propaganda campaign was another matter. Even if she didn’t know the HSA was behind it, had she not heard the stories of magic? The propaganda campaign had been in effect for several years, far outside the block missing from Ava’s memory. No, the stories weren’t rampant; they never dominated the news. And, yes, her hometown was a rural one; maybe she never paid much attention to the mainstream media down there. But it didn’t add up for Robert. He was convinced she’d been programmed. The next step was to find out for what purpose.

  The elevator’s door opened onto darkness. Ava nodded and waved, allowing Robert to go first this time. He smiled, and went. The elevator to the parking garage would only come when its sensors detected the cab was empty. The wait could be anywhere from two to twenty minutes. Today, they were lucky.

  “Okay, so you know about my eyes,” Ava said as they entered the cab. “Since turnabout is fair play, why don’t you tell me about yours?”

  “Are you referring to my eye patch?” he asked.

  “I’m referring to the lack of mirrors in your apartment,” she said.

  “Let’s just say I’m allergic to them.”

  “Let’s say more, shall we?”

  Robert took a deep breath and shook his head, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give out just a little. “If I look into a mirror dead on,” he said, “it’s like staring directly into the sun and being lifted, transported, to travel straight to its center. Angel or not, I’d rather just sit out that whole experience.”

  “You’re able to watch everything but yourself, huh?” Ava said.

  “I guess.”

  “Then I guess, as your partner, half of my duty will be for me to watch you.”

  “Excuse me?” Robert was not shy about looking into her eyes now, at their crazy colors and all. “Who said anything about partners?”

  “That’s what you said to Sam.”

  “I did not say that.”

  “You implied it,” Ava said. “Whether the words are explicit or implicit, good angels don’t lie when they speak.”

  The elevator door opened, and three people from the parking garage entered. While they were in the cab, Robert could only grimace and grind his teeth. He certainly couldn’t say what he wanted to in front of strangers. But he shifted his position so he could look at Ava, furrowing his brow, hoping she’d hear his unspoken words. She only met his glare with a blank stare, as if she was oblivious to his expression and had no knowledge of what they’d just been talking about. It was almost like holding his breath. Only when the door opened and everyone left the cab, three turning to head toward the shopping center and two walking straight toward the parked cars, only then did Robert feel like he could exhale.

  “Listen,” he said as he led her toward his car, “I said that you’d be working with us as a witness, not a partner. Darryl is my partner.”

  “Then where is he?” Ava asked. Robert didn’t look at her, but he could picture her smirking as she said it.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “What I do know is that we Watchers have two-person partnerships. That’s how we operate. We don’t partner up in threes.”

  “Hmmm. Sounds like something an ID operative might say.”

  Robert inhaled a large quantity of air through his nose; he could think of no other way to control his temper. After exhaling, he said, “That’s not even remotely funny.”

  “I didn’t think so either, back oh-so-long-ago when you inferred it about me. Guess it just goes to show we share the same things in common.”

  Robert grumbled as he unlocked his Mustang’s doors. He didn’t bother to hold open the passenger-side door for her.

  “So, where are we going?” Ava asked as she fastened her seatbelt.

  “Some place where we can walk.”

  Neither said a word as Robert drove for fifteen minutes through what seemed like a labyrinth of streets—purposely, in order to disorient his passenger—before getting onto Columbia Pike. He then turned onto Carlin Springs Road, drove for a few minutes, and, after passing the elementary school, made a sharp right turn onto an almost hidden path. Signs next to the shaded, narrow route cautioned drivers to go slow. It was a two-way road, but it hardly seemed wide enough for one vehicle. Robert was relieved that after navigating the car around several curves, and having to make way for two casual strollers, he didn’t have to negotiate road space with any cars heading the other direction before he reached the tiny, secluded parking lot.

  “Where are we?” Ava asked.

  “The Long Branch Nature Center is right up the hill there. The rest of this is Glencarlyn Park.”

  After they got out of the car, Ava stood next to the vehicle, looking at the trees surrounding her.

  �
��Park?” she said. “We’re in the middle of the woods.”

  “Yeah.” Robert headed toward the nearest paved trail. “I love gettin’ back to nature. C’mon.”

  Ava took another around-her look before following him on the foot-and-bike trail.

  A wide and relatively shallow stream was on their right, beyond a short craggy decline. A man standing on a rock in the middle of the water was talking with a woman sitting on a rock on the bank.

  Robert nodded in their direction. “It’d be a nasty spill if that guy slipped and hit his head.”

  Ava was looking at the scene with some uneasiness; Robert suspected it wasn’t for the reason he’d suggested. Did her trigger have something to do with water?

  “What is this?” she said. “Why are we here?”

  “Turning philosophical on me?” Robert said. “I can’t answer all the big questions, professor.”

  “I’m not joking,” Ava said. “I meant why did you bring me here?”

  “To relax.”

  He said it with a smile, but it was a serious response. The park, with its many paths and recesses, was a favorite of joggers, hikers, cyclists, birders, and other nature lovers. It was also a favorite hangout spot for associates of The ID, not to mention a gathering place for some of Northern Virginia’s ethnic gangs. This was obvious before they’d even gotten out of the car. At the beginning of the narrow route leading to the park was a sign that used to display the location’s name before it was marred by layers of graffiti spelling out gang names and portraying gang symbols. Beyond the sign, graffiti could be seen on trees, on logs lying by the roadside, and even on the pavement, written in chalk.

  Robert had wanted to bring his new self-proclaimed partner to just such an environment, a place that was fully out in nature but that also had a lot of people activity—perhaps her type of people— hoping she’d relax, let down her guard, and let something slip or fall out. This was all a test to see if she’d revert back to her nature. Better here than inside The Burrow, where everyone seemed all-too-quick to give Ava the benefit of the doubt.

  “We shouldn’t be relaxing,” she said. “We should be searching for Marie-Lydia.”

  “And we just might find some clues out here.” Robert tried his best to sound convincing. “This is a hot spot for ID activity. Based on what we know of her behavior, I’m positive Marie-Lydia’s associated with them, in some way, and they’re not the type to stay cooped up indoors. Who knows? She could be hiding out in the plain sight of mother nature.”

  Robert knew “plain sight” was an ironic phrase to use in an area like this. With so many tall trees, and so many curves in the trails, visibility was severely limited for those with normal sight. He figured that was the point of a recreational park. If people can’t see too far ahead of themselves, they’ll pay more attention to and maybe appreciate their immediate surroundings. But he was divided on whether the environment would help or hinder someone searching for something besides birds. In more wide-open spaces, it would be easy to miss the objects underfoot, anthills as well as ants; in a claustrophobic setting like Glencarlyn Park, it might be even easier to miss a hiding space made for something someone doesn’t want found.

  Robert believed that when the sense of sight was hampered, the sense of hearing was sometimes enhanced. But aside from the snippets of unimportant speech picked up from unseen sources, all he heard while walking were the sounds of water, leaves, tree frogs, birds, and annoyingly close insects. After several minutes of this, Ava said, “The ID.”

  “What about them?”

  “Why are they called that?” she said. “I mean, in that way? I know it’s short for The Infinite Definite, but why is it pronounced as one word instead of its initials, I.D.?”

  “I don’t know who first came up with it,” Robert said, “probably some word-wizard at the HSA. But the name refers to Freud’s concept of the id, the section of the psyche that’s totally unconscious, the source of an individual’s instinctual drives and impulses. It’s appropriate for these terrorists, these fallen angels, as you might say, because they seem to be driven to satisfy some of the most primitive needs, all of them centered on sex and violence, and whatever those two acts have in common.”

  “Marie-Lydia isn’t like that,” Ava said.

  “How do you know?” Robert said. “You say you can’t even remember the past seventeen months. People can change overnight.”

  “More than a year may be missing from my memory,” Ava said, “but I know her. I’ve known her for years. As you said, we were close. She’s just not capable of falling in line with some mentally diseased savages.”

  Robert stopped walking. He closed his eye and took a deep breath.

  Diseased.

  She said it, and she didn’t even know what she was saying. Or maybe, deep down, she did.

  Ava stopped in front of a tree that forked into two at its trunk. A few paces in front of her, the trail led to a low concrete narrow walkway that crossed over the stream. It was clear she was hesitant to cross it. She turned away and looked at Robert.

  He stared back at her for a few uncomfortable seconds. He swallowed what he wanted to say and instead said, “The ID is a leaderless gang of young viral victims. They live for their own pleasure, and they take the highest pleasure in playing with bodies and minds, using swordplay or wordplay or any other allegedly fun or artistic means available. The only lines are those of Leaderless Insistence. And that’s no lines at all.”

  “Victims?” Ava repeated the less important of the two “v” words he’d used. “Victims of what exactly?”

  Robert took another breath as he deepened his stare, hardened his resolve.

  “Of nature,” he answered. “And God.”

  Ava’s brow wrinkled, and the muscles in her forearms tensed. Robert could tell she was unhappy with his words, probably the last one in particular. Was this it? Was the time bomb down to its last seconds? The muscles in Robert’s forearms tightened.

  But whatever Ava had felt, it passed.

  “This is a waste of time,” she said, turning back toward the stream. “In Xyn—”

  “Damn it”—Robert started forward—“what is it about you and that place?” He no longer felt like standing still. If she were on the verge of coming out of her cover, he wanted to get it over and done with. “Why do you want to go there so badly? And, worse, take me with you?”

  “Why are you so resistant?” she shot back.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Robert believed only the insane willingly went to XynKroma— associates of The ID went happily, and frequently, like an addiction—and when the sane unwillingly went, it was probable they’d come out insane. In a calmer moment, he’d admit his accusation probably could’ve been put into better words, but he wanted to push her. He wanted her to push back. His ambitions didn’t allow for language-censors.

  “No, Robert,” she said, “I’m not crazy. I know what Xyn is. I also know what it could be, what it must be before it overwhelms us.”

  Wish granted. He was almost speechless.

  “Overwhelm? So you’re admitting—? The Flood—?”

  “The Flood is coming,” she said. “Nothing can stop it.”

  He was right. All along he was right. He knew it. She wanted the world to be plunged into chaos. She wanted the Earth to pop like a bubble and spill its contents in a stew of pure anarchy. She was definitely an ally of The Infinite Definite. In some way. Somehow. Damn what Adam had said; Robert had all the evidence he wanted, and he had a duty to take her down. Now.

  He took a step backward as he squared off, readied himself, and folded his fingers to make fists. Ava cocked her head in response.

  “What are you—?”

  She’d begun to speak but stopped and jerked her head to the right. Robert flinched. Before he could recover from his withdrawal and counterattack, Ava was already running. She was on the other side of the stream before he could even consider what had just happened. Confused and alrea
dy several steps behind, he sprinted after her.

  As he ran, Robert realized Ava had somehow managed to see just around the shaded trail’s bend. She had somehow seen or heard the commotion before he did. In a far-from-neat picnic area, four teenagers were attacking a family of six.

  Two boys and a girl were taking turns punching, kicking, and spitting on the short, paunchy father as he staggered, fell, and regained his footing only to fall again in the small space between a tree and a grilling station. The three hoodlums got their knocks in while the mother only had to deal with one: a scantily clad girl who laughed hysterically and shouted anti-Latino slurs as she threw uncooked food, paper plates, and plastic utensils at the cowering woman. All the while, the couple’s four preadolescent children ran around aimlessly, crying and screaming amid all the senselessness.

  Robert considered how Ava had detected something out of the ordinary happening behind her back while he, facing in the right direction, didn’t pick up a thing. She seemed to possess more abilities than the average angel.

  However she’d become alerted to it, Ava had been quick to take off across the low concrete bridge, following the pathway’s curves. She didn’t slow her pace for even half a second as she neared the scene and, as if running up invisible stairs, took three steps on the air and a fourth atop the family’s minivan. While leaping off of the maroon vehicle, she reared back with her left arm, gathered a ball of sky-and-tree-filtered sunlight in her hand and fashioned it, shaped it into something longer, slimmer, and more pointed before throwing it to her right, directly at the back of the neck of one of the young thugs. The hit boy screamed in agony, slapping the palm of his left hand on his neck as he fell down to his knees. Although he’d received the first blow of Ava’s assault, he may not have been her first intended target; it was most likely the racist black girl, she who got tackled a second after she saw Ava diving for her from the top of the van.