Angels Among Us

by C. E. Barrett

  He held his hands out in a warding-off gesture. “I'm sorry, Seren. I've never heard of any of that. Perhaps we travel in different circles.”

  “Different worlds, more like,” Seren rolled her eyes—stopped—and looked sharply at him. “That's it! Daffyd, who is the President of the United States in your time?”

  “Al Gore, for his second term.” He saw where she was going.

  “And before him?” she asked.

  “Hillary Rodham,” he replied.

  A shriek of laughter escaped her lips and she clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes dancing with delight. “Really? Hillary Rodham?”

  “Ye-e-s,” he said slowly, realization growing. “Why?”

  “In my world, it's Bill Clinton,” she said. “Al Gore is vice president.”

  He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Bill Clinton? Your world elected Bill Clinton?” He laughed out loud, a low rumble. The realization reached full growth. “We are definitely not from the same world, then, Seren.”

  “No, we're not.”

  He breathed deeply, blew out. “The plot thickens.”

  “Yes, it does.” She looked from Daffyd to Devany who was sniffing the lilacs and touching the delicate blooms, and back to Daffyd. “How are we all ever going to get home?”

  “To be honest, the way things were going for me, I'd be just as happy not going back.” He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps I can tell you about it one day.”

  “If we can't find a way home, we'll have lots of time to tell each other lots of stories.” She shook herself mentally. “Right now, let's get back on track. I bet we find lots more useful stuff. Let's go exploring.” She headed off through the orchard toward the edge of the hill.

  Daffyd looked over at Devany and called to her. She turned her face toward him. “Coming?” he asked, forgetting for the moment she was unused to making decisions for herself.

  “Yes,” she answered. She reluctantly left the flowers. They smelled nice and underneath them it was shadowy and safe looking. She would have liked to crawl in between the trunks, but she didn't know how to go about asking such a thing. Surely, it wasn't an approved activity. It was probably best right now to stay close to Daffyd and Seren. If a real Authority Person came along, it wouldn't do to be caught out all alone. She ran over to where Daffyd was waiting patiently for her and took his hand again.

  She looked up at him, and he smiled down and winked at her. She puzzled over that, although it gave her a warm feeling inside. She felt safe with Daffyd. She didn't know why, but his presence was comforting to her.

  They strolled toward Seren, Devany's little hand lost in Daffyd's. She reminded him in many ways of his grandniece, Ria. Not in physical appearance so much, but in her demand for information, and her direct manner. He didn't spend as much time with Ria as he would have liked; his work schedule saw to that, but he enjoyed her immensely when they were together. She was a bright and funny little girl. Having Devany here helped him keep a level head, thinking that if Ria were suddenly somewhere strange he would want someone there watching over her.

  Knowing Devany was dependent on him and Seren made it easier to fight off the nagging feeling that he had somehow lost his mind. Despite what he had said to Seren yesterday about the reality of it all, he still partly believed the entire episode was a dream induced by the coma he was probably in. But another part of his mind could not deny the very real feeling of Devany's fingers curling around his, the smell of the coffee this morning, and the clear sound of Seren's voice calling to them. His dreams tended toward being cloudy and disjointed, surreal almost. This was too cohesive, too linear, so it must be happening, although, had anyone asked him how, he would not have been able to hazard a guess. Science Fiction was a literary form that was in its infancy in his world, and the concepts of parallel worlds, space travel, and alternate dimensions were not anything he had ever given any serious consideration.

  They caught up with Seren. The hill right here jutted into the field like the prow of a ship. Seren stood quite a distance to the right of the point, at the top of a path. It sloped gently down to the left and vanished around the curve of the ‘prow'. Devany frowned at it ... she had climbed up this hillside yesterday, not right at this spot, admittedly, but she had no memory of seeing any trail anywhere. She didn't like this at all.

  Seren looked at the other two. “Shall we find out where this goes?” she asked. Devany was torn between the desire to stay with Daffyd and Seren and her need to return to the sanctuary of walls around her. The longer she was out here, the more nervous and frightened she was becoming. She fidgeted. Daffyd got down on one knee beside her, and looked into her worried face, still holding her hand. His free hand brushed a curling tendril of hair out of her eyes.

  “Are you all right, Devany?” he asked quietly. She shook her head. “Do you want to go back to the house?” A nod, her green eyes staring into his. “Would you like me to take you back?” Another nod. Daffyd raised his eyes to Seren. “I'll only be few minutes. Wait for me.” He rose gracefully, surprising in a man of his bulk, and lifted Devany into his arms. He settled her behind on his left forearm. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied. She couldn't remember ever being carried before. It was rather soothing. She put her arm around his neck and a tiny smile made a fleeting appearance on her delicate face. Daffyd's face softened in response. If this had been Ria, he would have kissed her cheek and blown into her neck, making goosebumps appear all down her arm, and setting off an explosion of giggles. With Devany, he merely smiled warmly, and gave her a brief hug with his free arm. Seren watched the exchange, thinking how wonderful he was with this lost child, how easily he related to her. It was a shame he didn't have children of his own; he would make such an incredible father.

  He set off at a brisk pace through the trees. Seren sat down and waited for his return, dangling her feet over the edge of the hill.

  When they reached the garden and the lilacs, Devany asked Daffyd to stop. “Could I get down here?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said, and set her on her feet.

  A voice whispered in her mind and directed her words.

  “You can go back to Seren, now,” she told him. “I can go the rest of the way by myself.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. He was concerned for her emotional state, more than anything. There hadn't been any danger here, and he was quite sure that she was physically safe alone in the house, but he knew she was uncomfortable in the open.

  “Yes, I'm sure,” she replied. “The house is right there. I'm not a baby, you know.”

  He fought to keep a straight face, and succeeded. “Yes, I know. Well, go on, then. I'll just watch you to the door.”

  She turned and ran to the back door, where she stopped and looked back. He waved to her. She waved back and stepped just inside the door and waited as the voice suggested.

  When he was out of sight, she crept quietly back to the hedge.

  Graz and Blagdur chuckled with their success.

  * * * *

  Daffyd returned to Seren. “Allow me to lead?” he asked. She made an ‘after you’ gesture toward the path. Daffyd bowed his head in acknowledgment, an elegant subtlety of movement that brought a smile to Seren's face. As they descended, Seren's eyes traveled from the path at her feet, to the field on her right, to Daffyd's broad back before her.

  “Daffyd,” she called out.

  He looked back over his shoulder. “What is it?”

  “The people are all gone. Look!” She waved at the empty grass below them. He stared out at the emptiness, his gaze traveling from horizon to horizon. Seren was right. There was not a soul to be seen.

  “Where the hell did they all go?” he asked no one in particular.

  “And why didn't any of them come to the house?” They stood and regarded the plain. Neither could know that everyone they had seen was part of someone's project, just as they were the subjects of Mykal's efforts. Each individual
was drawn only to the other concerned subjects and to the place chosen by the tester as the work area.

  “This place is giving me a brain stazo,” said Seren.

  Daffyd looked at her. “A what?”

  She laughed. “A brain stazo. It's one of those family words. When Matthew was little, I said I thought I was having a brain spasm. He thought I said ‘stazo'. We've been using it ever since. I didn't mean to add to the confusion. I'm sorry.”

  He chuckled. “Don't be,” he reassured her. “We have words like that, too. My sister's little granddaughter calls cupboards, ‘covereds'. Now, of course, so do the rest of us.”

  Seren was delighted. “What a good word! And it makes more sense than ‘cupboards', too. That's so cute!” She thought of all the baby words that had come and gone, some only existing in her diaries anymore; craylons, and chwips, and muswic. A wistful smile surfaced with the memory, her eyes lost in the past. Daffyd watched the play of emotion across her face, wishing he could offer a hug for comfort. A tear tracked down her cheek, followed quickly by another and another. His heart ached for her sadness.

  She suddenly became aware of the wetness on her cheeks and scrubbed at it hastily. “Sorry. I didn't mean to go to pieces.”

  “I wouldn't call six tears ‘going to pieces',” he said, his voice low and comforting. He surprised her by reaching out a gentle hand and wiping away a tear from her chin. “You missed one.” His blue eyes, compassionate and warm, met hers. The caring in them almost undid her completely and she fought for control. She had been a pillar of strength for seven years, ever since Terry's death, all her crying done in private, and she wasn't about to go public now. But, oh, sometimes she felt the need to share the burden and to let someone else be strong for her, just for a little while. And Daffyd seemed to be such a rock, so steady. How she would have liked to cuddle up to him and cry on his shoulder, even if only for a few minutes. Instead, she took a deep, shaky breath and let it out again, her tears held back until she could be alone.

  “You're sure you're all right?” he asked.

  “I will be,” she smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

  The urge to put an arm, or maybe even both, around her was almost overwhelming. Stop it! he told himself firmly in the privacy of his head. You don't need to alienate the only other adult here. She's good company, she's enjoyable to be with, don't ruin it now! He hesitated half a moment, then turned and resumed his trek down the path, Seren following a few paces behind.

  They rounded the corner and stopped in amazement. The hillside leveled off here, making a wide, level plateau several acres in size. A closed gate in a wooden fence barred their progress. A small barn appeared to be built into the hillside within the enclosure.

  They went through the gate, closing it behind them. Daffyd double-checked it, a habit acquired during the summers he had spent on his grandmother's farm. He decided to investigate the building first, and Seren simply fell into step beside him. Just as they reached the open barn door, a low sound from the far side of the pasture startled them both. They spun around to find the source. A moment later, a small cow with a young calf came into view.

  “Fresh milk,” murmured Daffyd. “Didn't you say we needed fresh milk?”

  “As a matter of fact, Daffyd dear, I did. Unfortunately, although I know the theory behind getting it out of the original container, I don't have any practical experience.”

  “My dear Seren,” he replied, adopting her expression, and rather enjoying the banter, “I not only know the theory, but have extensive practical experience.”

  “Well, aren't you a bundle of surprises!” She grinned at him, tickled at this revelation. “Geez, Daffyd, is there no end to your talents?”

  He shrugged modestly. “I have acquired a few skills here and there in my life,” he admitted.

  “I can't wait to find out more of them.” She cleared her throat. “In the meantime, O Wise Milking Man, do you think she's approachable or has she gone wild?”

  “She doesn't appear to be overly aggressive,” he said. In fact, the cow had seen them, paused to stare at them for a moment and then resumed her grazing, drifting slowly closer. Her calf peered at them from the safety of her far side, its ears sticking preposterously out to the sides. It made a hilarious, yet charming picture.

  “I don't think she's going to attack,” he said. “Why don't we go see if there is a bucket or something in the barn, and I'll try milking her in a little while.”

  “Sure.” She wanted to see this. The image of Daffyd as a farmer was almost more than her sense of humor could stand.

  The barn appeared, at first glance, to be a small outbuilding but on closer inspection proved to extend quite far into the hill itself. The doors slid on tracks instead of swinging on hinges. Right now, they were wide open, standing to each side of the doorway. Judging by the trail, the cow and her calf had been wandering freely in and out. A stone trough sat to the right of the doors, close to the rising hillside. A trickle of water burbled out of a short pipe, as though from an artesian well. The overflow at the far end made a narrow stream that wandered away to the far side of the pasture, and disappeared under the fence, presumably to run down the slope beyond.

  “That's next,” said Seren, pointing at the water. “I want to see where it goes.”

  They entered the barn, pausing to let their eyes adapt to the gloom. There were large, roomy stalls, enough for several animals. The door to one was open, and the evidence suggested that this was where the cow and her calf bedded down. A cat, snoozing on a bale of straw, awoke, stood, stretched, yawned enormously and leapt down to caress itself against their shins.

  “Hello, Pusscat,” said Daffyd, and bent to scoop it up. It purred loudly and rubbed its face against his beard. Seren laughed and reached out to scratch its ears. It purred even more loudly and butted its head against her hand.

  “The cat's friendly enough,” she said.

  “And it doesn't appear to be starving. Either someone's been taking care of it, or the mouse population is sufficient to keep it well fed.” As he finished speaking, there was a rustle of straw in one of the stalls. The cat poured itself onto the floor and vanished around a partition. There was a flurry of sounds, and a sharp squeak abruptly ended. The cat reappeared with the obviously dead mouse dangling from its jaws. It jumped back onto its bale and began eating.

  “YACK!” Seren grimaced in distaste. “That bone-crunching noise sends me!” She shuddered. “You look for a milk pail. I'm going outside to see where that stream goes.”

  She walked out into the sunlight. He searched the barn. The hayloft was stocked with sweet-smelling hay, and two stalls were full of stacked bales of straw for bedding. Big covered bins contained oats and other feed grains. He examined it all. Finally he opened a door that led into a small room that contained everything the home dairy needed. There was a stool to sit on, stainless steel buckets, and even tall-lidded milk cans to empty the buckets into. He could identify the electric churn to make butter and saw something he thought was probably for pasteurizing.

  “Hmph,” he muttered to himself, and added this information to the processing going on in the back corner of his mind. Having ascertained that he had everything he needed for his milking attempt later, he walked outside in search of Seren. He found her sitting on the top of the fence on the far side of the pasture, gazing down past the hill to something he could not yet see.

  He made his way over to Seren, absently patting the cow on the head as he passed. The cow wiggled an ear in response. He came up behind Seren, admiring her figure as she perched on the top rail, her feet resting on the one below, her hands out to either side, bracing her. He drew near, crossed his forearms on the fence post and leaned on it.

  “What did you find?” he asked conversationally.

  “That,” she jerked her chin to indicate what lay at the bottom of the hill. Another path led down from a gate on this side to a small lake. The path debouched onto a grassy area where a short dock pushed its wo
oden finger out into the water. Farther out, a wooden raft floated serenely. Most of the rest of the shore was lined with trees or bushes, making a perfect, private swimming hole. Seren thought it would be a great place for skinny-dipping, if Daffyd wouldn't have a heart attack or stroke or something. The whole setting was idyllic.

  “Isn't that beautiful?” She sighed. “I don't suppose you remembered to pack a swim suit. The things we forget to bring on holiday!”

  He chuckled, and joined in her fantasy. “Perhaps we can buy some at the gift shop. I know the prices will be outrageous; you know how tourist traps are.”

  “It's terrible, really, how they gouge you,” she agreed. “The next time we take a trip together, dear, remind me to bring the bathing suits! And a change of underwear ... some socks ... more clothes.” She laughed. “Oh god, Daffyd. I'm losing my marbles ... no, I've lost them.”

  He had been struck by her casual mention of traveling together. He was thinking how pleasant that would be; traveling with Seren. She was easy to be with—apart from having to hide his growing attraction—intelligent, fun, comfortable to talk to or to be silent with; a rare treasure. He also liked the way she had called him ‘dear'. He knew it was just in fun, but it had sounded natural coming from her. He had had a few longer relationships with women, but terms of endearment had always sounded forced. He had often suspected that his partners felt as uncomfortable, at some level, as he did. He was so afraid of exposure, he could never really let his guard down, no matter how deeply he cared. Wouldn't it be nice, he thought, if she really meant it? He realized she was looking at him as if waiting for a response. He quickly replayed her last words. He hoped the expression meant the same to her as it did to him; that she was losing her mind.

  “I could help you look for them,” he offered.