Milayna's Angel

by Michelle K. Pickett

  I waited impatiently for Xavier to back out of the parking space. “Hurry!” I yelled.

  He screeched out of the parking lot and sped down the road, passing Drew, who was already pushing the speed limit. He weaved in and out of traffic. I held on to my head with one hand and the dashboard with the other.

  Burning. Screaming. Smoke. Flames. Heat. Family photos. My house.

  The images and sensations filled my brain, flying in front of my eyes like a slideshow. They moved so fast it made me dizzy. The smell of smoke made it almost impossible for me to breathe. The heat was so intense that it felt like it was burning my skin. I could smell singed hair.

  Horrific screams filled my head, making it pound harder. My stomach clenched and swirled and I bent over and threw up on the floor.

  “I’m so sorry.” I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand.

  Xavier didn’t answer. He focused on driving. We came to a red light. He looked both ways before laying on the horn and barreling through the light. He ran two more lights before we were at the entrance to our subdivision. Engine roaring and tires squealing, he turned onto my street so fast that the back end of the car fishtailed, sending me into the side of the car and smacking my head against the window. I put my hand on the window and pushed off to sit up straight.

  That was when I saw my house engulfed in red and orange flames.

  22

  Why?

  Xavier drove toward my burning house, trying not to hit the people milling around gawking at the fire. We came to a stop about one hundred feet away. Barricades blocked the road to keep people away from the fire crews working to extinguish the blaze. I jumped out of the car and ran past a barricade.

  “Miss! You can’t cross the barrier,” I heard a police officer yell. But he was surrounded by people and fifty pounds overweight. I easily slipped by him.

  I kept running. “It’s my house.”

  Two arms snaked out, grabbing me by the waist and lifting my feet off the ground. I screamed and pushed at the steely arms holding me in place, clawing and hitting them. My feet kicked wildly back and forth, trying to hit the person holding me. My heel banged into the person’s knee and he howled in pain, bending over slightly… just enough. I kicked his knee again and pinched the skin on his forearm as hard as I could. His grip wavered. It was all I needed. I shimmied my way out of his arms and ran toward my house.

  It was hotter there. The closer I came to my childhood home, the more it felt like Hell. The wood crackled as the flames licked across it. Sparks flew and embers floated in the night air. The vinyl siding curled and melted against the wood beneath.

  “Get back!” I heard a man bellow. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a portly firefighter running toward me. I reached the front door and before he could catch up to me, I rammed my shoulder against it. Falling inside, I landed on the floor with a grunt.

  I scrambled up. The heat of the fire was nearly unbearable, and it was almost impossible to see in the smoke-filled room. I had to maneuver by memory, reaching for something to use as a guide. My fingertips grazed the wall, and I jerked my hand back. It was flaming hot.

  “Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!”

  I thought I heard them yelling to me from upstairs. I couldn’t be sure.

  The fire roared around me. Pieces of ceiling fell and crashed against the buckling wood floor. The heat felt like it was cooking me. I could feel it burning my feet through my shoes.

  “Mil… find… brother…” I heard my dad shouting from upstairs.

  “Benjamin,” I screamed. “Ben!”

  Splashes of a vision scrolled behind my eyes.

  A door. Plain. White paint bubbling.

  A white door—not Ben’s. His door had dinosaur stickers on it. His closet doors were covered in dinosaur posters. I closed my eyes, partly to concentrate on the vision, partly to shield them from the stinging smoke and drying heat.

  “Where are you, Ben?”

  I started to cough. The air was being sucked out of the room by the fire. It burned to take a breath, as if I was breathing in the flames. I remembered what I was taught in school and dropped to the floor to breathe in cleaner air.

  The door is open. Coats hanging. Smoke fills the room.

  “Ben!” I screamed.

  The fire was spreading quickly. The drapes in the living room exploded in flames, the synthetic carpet began to melt, giving off a caustic odor. The odor combined with the airless room and other burning materials made me dizzy. The chemicals in the air burned my lungs and sinus membranes when I inhaled.

  The vision played over and over in my mind. A white door and coats hanging, I had no idea what it was showing me, or, more importantly, where.

  My parents ran down the stairs, fire from the second floor lapping at the ceiling above them.

  “Benjamin!” my mom yelled between deep, rasping coughs.

  An open door. Hanging coats. Vacuum.

  A vacuum! The mudroom closet. I crawled across the living room floor, making my way toward the back of the house where the mudroom was. Weaving between pockets of fire, I dodged falling pieces of plaster and crumbling furniture.

  I heard a fireman barge through the door. He must have grabbed my mother, pulling her screaming from the house. I continued toward the back of the house.

  “My kids are in here,” my dad shouted over the roaring noise.

  “We’ll find them… get out!”

  I got to the mudroom and reached for the door handle, feeling my skin sizzle under the metal knob. Crying out, I forced myself to turn the knob.

  “Ben? Ben? Benjamin?”

  I scooted to the closet. Pulling my shirtsleeve over my hand, I pushed the closet door open. I put my arm out in front of me, waving it back and forth, trying to find the vacuum cleaner in the dark, smoky room.

  I heard a faint sound of coughing and reached toward it. My arm hit the vacuum. I reached into the space behind it, calling Ben’s name. When I felt his little hand grab mine, I pulled him toward me, hugging him against my chest.

  “We have to get out of here,” I yelled close to his ear, my voice raspy from the smoke. My throat felt like someone was ramming a stick of sandpaper down it.

  I felt the floor in front of me, trying to get my bearings. The linoleum was curling and melting from the unbearable heat. The room was dark with smoke. I could barely see the yellow-orange glow from the other rooms. I wanted away from the fire. I needed to find the outside door, or even the window. Crawling toward where I thought the door was, I pulled Benjamin with me. A pair of large boots stepped into view. The man grabbed Benjamin in his arms and hauled me from the floor, ushering us quickly toward the back door and into the yard.

  He hurried down the driveway, carrying Ben. The basement windows exploded from the heat and pressure, sending glass flying over us. I put my arm in front of my face, protecting it from the shards of glass whizzing by.

  I saw my parents at the end of the driveway, two firefighters restraining them. My mother had tears running down her soot-stained face. My dad’s face was red and his neck muscles bulged as he tried to shove the firefighter out of his way.

  When we reached my parents, they grabbed Ben and me into a crushing hug, squeezing out what little air was still in our lungs. The four of us stood holding each other, crying in between coughing fits caused by smoke inhalation.

  “Ben, where were you?”

  “He was hiding in the mudroom closet,” I answered my dad between violent coughs. I still couldn’t inhale enough oxygen, and I felt lightheaded. The faces of my parents started to blur and swirl until I saw nothing but black. I heard my mother scream my name just as I felt myself hit the concrete.

  ***

  I came to as the EMTs were loading me into an ambulance. When I tried to sit up, a hand gently pushed me back against the crisp white sheets.

  “Lie down, Milayna,” he murmured, his voice smooth as butter. A voice I knew. One I loved… or at least the person it was attached to.

>   I looked up into his blue-green eyes. “My parents?”

  “They’re getting the car. Ben is in the ambulance.” Chay gestured to the rescue vehicle. “Your parents are going to follow you to the hospital.”

  “They’re okay?”

  “They’re great.”

  “Ben?” I croaked. My throat felt on fire, scratchy and sore. I tried to clear it, but that only seemed to make it worse.

  “He’s fine. A cut on his leg and he breathed in a lot of smoke, but he’s already asking the EMTs a million questions about the ambulance.” Chay smiled.

  Chay stood quietly next to me, his gaze fixated on the remains of what used to be my house. He reached over and picked up my hand, threading his fingers through mine. I flinched when he touched the burned skin. He immediately let go and gently placed my hand on the gurney next to me, rubbing his thumb softly over the top.

  “When did you get here?”

  “Just in time to see the basement windows explode on you.” He looked down at me and gently threaded a lock of hair between his fingers before sliding it behind my ear

  Xavier walked up and stood next to me on the opposite side of the gurney from Chay. His hands were in the front pockets of his jeans, making his shoulders rise. Chay looked over at him and then back to the fire, his jaw working, his mouth set in an angry line.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I didn’t do anything. I’m glad you’re all okay.” Chay quickly kissed the top of my head before he walked away and disappeared into the crowd. I didn’t see him again that night.

  ***

  I rode with Benjamin in the ambulance while my parents followed in the car. The EMTs wanted a doctor to check the burn on my hand. It was red and blistered from grabbing the doorknob. They were also afraid I might have suffered a concussion from hitting my head on the pavement when I passed out. Ben had a deep cut where glass embedded in his leg from the basement windows exploding and a burn on his forearm.

  “Isn’t this wicked cool, Milayna?” Ben fiddled with the oxygen tubing running from a tank to his nose.

  “Yeah, I’ve never been in an ambulance before,” I said, smiling at his excitement. “Don’t touch that.” I moved the tubing delivering oxygen out of his reach. He kept pulling the nozzles out of his nose, pinching them.

  At the hospital, my dad sat next to my gurney in the small exam room in emergency. The doctor had bandaged my hand. The burn wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked—or felt. We were just waiting on the results of my scan to rule out a concussion and then I’d be released. My oxygen levels had improved enough that smoke inhalation wasn’t a huge concern.

  My mom sat with Ben in a similar room down the dingy, pea-green hallway. The doctor had cleaned and stitched his leg and bandaged his burned arm. They were keeping an eye on his oxygen levels before releasing him.

  My stomach clenched and I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to protect myself from the vicious pain.

  Not now! I can’t have a vision now. Geez, hasn’t it been enough for one freakin’ night?

  I was exhausted from the vision and stress of the fire. My chest burned and my head pounded from the effects of breathing in so much smoke. But the images came anyway. They flashed in front of my eyes, and the surroundings around me slowly faded.

  A white-haired woman. Crying.

  I concentrated on the items around the woman. It looked like she was in the same hospital as we were.

  A man clutching his chest. The woman calling for help. Nurses walking past them.

  “Milayna? What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, and the images fell away. “Nothing, Dad, just a vision.”

  White shirt. Blue jeans.

  “Dad? Have you seen a white-haired woman with a white shirt and blue jeans on?”

  “No. Why? Is she in your vision?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, trying to relax into the vision.

  Ambulance. EMTs rolling in a gurney. The gurney sitting in the hallway. The woman crying.

  I could see her clearly in my vision, hear her sobs and calls for someone to help. The smell of disinfectant and sickness filled my nose.

  “I’ll be right back.” I slide down from the gurney and walked into the hall.

  “Everything okay?” he called after me.

  “Yes. I just have to see if I can find the woman.”

  Looking from side to side, I sighed. The visions never made it easy. The hospital was busy and the hall was littered with gurneys. I’d have to walk up and down the hall to find the right one.

  Which way? Right… no, left. Wait, the nurse’s station is to the left. That wasn’t in the vision. Right, then.

  I turned right and walked slowly by the gurneys, looking at the faces of the people as I passed.

  Blue blanket falling on the floor. An arm hanging limply over the side of the gurney. The woman screaming for help.

  Something caught my eye a few feet in front of me. A blue blanket fluttering to the dirty, tiled floor. I looked up and saw the woman sitting on the foot of the gurney. She stood and bent to pick up the blanket.

  I turned and ran to the nurses’ desk. “Excuse me. There’s a man down the hall that needs help.” No one answered me. They didn’t even look in my direction. I looked down the hall and saw the man’s arm fall over the side of the gurney. Nurses passed by him, focused on other patients, other responsibilities.

  “Hey!” I yelled, smacking my hand against the countertop. A nurse looked up and scowled at me. “There’s a man down there. I think he’s having a heart attack.”

  “Where?” She sighed.

  The woman’s scream pierced through the noisy hallway.

  I raised an eyebrow. “There.”

  The nurse walked quickly to the man. Picking up his wrist, she checked for a pulse before yelling, “I need a crash cart.”

  The violent twisting in my stomach eased, and the vision faded away. I smiled. If anything good came of that night, it was helping that man.

  I walked back to my room and sat down next to my dad. “It all work out?” he asked.

  I laid down, bunching the pillow under my head. “Yeah. Right as rain as Grams would say.”

  My dad pulled the sheet over me and patted my cheek. “Good job.”

  “Thanks. Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What do you think happened to start the fire?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe electrical. Maybe something flammable got too close to the pilot light on the water heater.”

  “Or maybe a demon with fiery fingers.”

  “We won’t know anything until after the fire department looks at the evidence.”

  I know who did it. I’d been warned. It might look like an electrical fire, but that isn’t the real cause. The real cause is something otherworldly, something evil. Abaddon.

  “You know, you don’t have to sit with me. I’ll be fine. You should go be with Benjamin.”

  “That’s okay. Your mom has it under control.”

  “Ben might want you there,” I told him.

  My dad looked at me and chuckled. “It’s Ben, Milayna. He wants your mom, trust me. He has her wrapped so tightly around his little finger that he’s probably already weaseled a new video game out of her.”

  As soon as we were discharged three hours later, Ben announced that Mom was going to buy him a video game. “I’ve been wanting it for-ev-er,” he said with a smile.

  I looked at my dad over Ben’s head and laughed.

  With our burns bandaged and Ben stitched up, we drove home. Only there wasn’t a home to drive to. Firefighters were still there, clearing out the last remaining embers. We would have asked to go in and see if anything was salvageable, but there wasn’t a house to go into. It was leveled. Destroyed. Gone.

  “Where are we gonna sleep?” Ben asked my mom, his voice small and quivering.

  “I don’t know. Grams’ apartment maybe. Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere cozy.”
>
  “You’ll stay with us,” Muriel’s dad, my Uncle Rory, said. “Grams doesn’t need this around her. Besides, the people in the apartment complex couldn’t deal with anything like this.”

  “We don’t want to impose—”

  “Who better to impose on than family?” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll stay with us. ‘Nuff said.”

  “Thanks,” my dad said, slapping my uncle on the back.

  “No problem at all, brother.”

  We got settled at Muriel’s house. I shared a bedroom with her, and my parents took the spare room. Benjamin, still scared from the fire, slept on the floor next to their bed. It wasn’t too bad of an arrangement. I liked being with so many people—angels—it made me feel safer, even if it was just an illusion. Abaddon and his demons could get to us at Muriel’s just as easily as he could at my house. If it wasn’t for the protective barriers surrounding our houses, we wouldn’t be safe from the demons anywhere. As it was, we weren’t safe from the lackeys that worked for them on earth. They proved that with my house fire.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I answered Muriel.

  “Really? You’re pale, your eyes are bloodshot, and your hands are shaking. You don’t look so great in my opinion,” she said.

  “Okay, I’m not so great, but I think that’s normal, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. So don’t go around saying your fine. You don’t always have to be the strong one, Milayna. It’s okay to tell people you’re scared.”

  I looked down, wrapping my finger around the hem of the T-shirt I was wearing. It wasn’t even mine. I had to borrow one from Muriel. Everything we had was destroyed in the fire. If Abaddon got his way, we’d suffer the same fate as our house.

  “You’re right. I’m scared. For Benjamin, my parents, and me. For you and your family since we’re staying here. For Chay, Drew, Xavier, Jen… I’m scared.”

  She nodded once. “Good. Facing it is the first step.”

  “To what?”

  “Fighting him. This isn’t just gonna go away, and just like Azazel, we’re gonna have to end it ourselves.” She kissed me on the cheek and crawled into bed.