A Congress of Angels (The Collective)

by Fore, Jon

  "Is it the...” She felt the sensation come from Maria, and although it was mixed with a sexual longing for 'her man', what she was referring to was clear. "Yeah, that's what I thought too. You know, really, you are a gorgeous girl, Maria. If he is just, you know, hard up, who could blame him."

  Jackson and Maria both looked at Vega, she with a sly grin, he with a shocked expression. "You don't understand, do you?” Maria asked, then smiled.

  "You bout as pretty as anyone could ever be. Pardon me Maria, but you know I'm telling the truth, boy-howdy."

  "Damn straight, you are. I ain't nowhere as pretty as her, and it don't bother me a bit."

  "What?” Vega said around a mouth full of laughter.

  "Oh, come on, Vega," Maria said, "the coyness is cute and all, but you know as well as we do..."

  "I know no such thing."

  "Ought to.” Jackson nodded, his face entirely sincere.

  "Stop, both of you," Vega held her hands up, "it's all a matter of opinion. I think Maria... anyway," she leaned close again, "do you think he is dangerous?"

  "William? Not with Jackson around, I don't."

  "He don't scare me none.” Jackson agreed.

  Vega considered them both for a while, "I think we should at least unload the weapons. Keep the rounds hidden somewhere. I am going to keep my side arm with me, but you two, just keep an eye out, alright?"

  "We will," Maria said, then smiled, "You just wink at us if you want us to, well, not watch over you for a little while."

  "That won’t be a problem. You should also know, guys, that he has no G.P.S., and can't navigate with the stars either."

  "You mean with a sextant?” Maria asked.

  "Yeah.” The instrument Maria was talking about appeared in Vega's memory instantly. "That's right. So he said he's going to plot a course directly West until we hit the continental United States. From there, he will let us off to get the book and the other amulet, then he will take us south to Florida."

  "That's sounds boss.” Maria said, not breaking eye contact.

  "But I saw something in the chart that told me he was trying for Florida or maybe the Caribbean."

  Jackson sat up straight at this.

  Vega held her hands out, palms open, "Now wait. I can't be sure. I can't read sea maps or charts or whatever the hell they're called, it just looked like it might be that, you know?” Vega felt a wave of disquiet using William's annoying 'you know' at the end of her sentence. God, this guy better not be rubbing off on nothing of me.

  "Alright. Boy-howdy. We... we will keep an eye on him... it. Don't know how, though."

  "I don't either, I just don't trust him...."

  Chapter 19

  A week later, everyone aboard the two mast sailing ship had fallen into a routine of steering the boat, then taking a shower, then going to bed. After all this time, all the private and group conversations, the stories, the jokes, and polite behavior, the itch never subsided. It was nearly out of reach and only a hint of something wrong. The flavor of it was not one of intuition, but of forgotten fact.

  His physical closeness to Vega, was always excused some way, most of the time the result of the close quarters. He hadn't touched her in anyway inexcusable. No meaty grab at the softer parts of her anatomy, but there was a complete lack of respect for personal space. It was little more than what Jackson had to do, or Maria for that matter, to move about the ship or share the single bathroom. But that 'little more' was enough to bring on a slow case of the creeps. Still, his manners, his outward respect quelled what could have been, by now, a full-on revulsion for the guy. It was his boat after all. But she found herself daydreaming of the solid, eye-socket-bruising punch she would deliver, if he did finally cross that line. They ran like little rehearsals in her mind, just bidding their time to fit into some scenario where all civility would break down.

  He fretted over the maps and his chronograph, which is what he called the ships clock. The charts he made his marks on were still hidden away, for his eyes only. He left other charts or maps or whatever they were called out for the others to observe. These maps showed a steady progression towards the North Eastern United States, but the line had become more of a cone, spreading wider and wider with each passing day. According to this map, they should be there by the next day, if not this evening, and Vega was looking furiously forward to ending this journey. She had no idea how bad the U.S. had become, but it wouldn't be as bad as being on a boat, trapped with this good looking, over polite, creepy dude.

  Then the rifles vanished.

  Vega had kind of expected this. Not in her forethought, but she had a feeling that the weapons would vanish, and all at once. It festered in the back of her mind, clinging to that uncomfortable knowledge that William wasn't who he claimed. The three, the collected three had devised a plan to check for the rifles after each watch. This would give them a three hour window if they did disappear. The most horrible thing about it was they vanished from Jackson and Maria's room while Vega was at the steering wheel (or helm), which meant William entered their room while they slept. It was enough to finally confront this odd surfer and his fragile story.

  Day had come, at least this new world's excuse for a day. William was at the helm, and the three collected at the small table underneath the dark, flat panel television.

  "What if he refuses to sail the boat, Vega? We would be in a pickle, boy-howdy"

  "I know how to steer the thing. So do you guys. It is impossible to miss the America's."

  "Yeah, I guess it would be. Even if he was steering east while we steered west, it would be three to one, right? I mean seriously.” Maria leaned back in her seat, resting a hand on the table.

  "So it's agreed. We go up there and find out what the hell he's planning."

  "Yeah.” Maria said with confidence, and the two women looked at Jackson.

  He looked at each of the women in turn, sparing a few more moments for Maria than Vega, "I ain't supposed to be making decision like this. You two know. My job... I'm supposed to make sure..." he sighed a moment, lowering his eyes a moment, "I'm supposed to make for sure your will is done, Vega. That's my job. That's what I do... now."

  Vega felt a rush along her nerves, unsure what to say.

  "He's right, you know?” Maria said to Vega while staring at Jackson. "He does what has to be done to make what you say happen. My job, I'm supposed to clean up when it’s over, if there's something to clean up. I...” Maria fell off for a long moment, and Jackson found her eyes. No smolder there this time, but a look of both realization and support. Vega could see they reached some milestone, a secret understanding.

  "Wait... I can't do this without you two.” She didn't have a clue what else to say.

  "We aren't leaving you, Vega.” Maria reached across the table and took her hand in a tiny warm way. It was a demonstrative thing Vega would have rejected but a month ago. Not now. This was not a sexual thing, not a mother to a daughter thing either. This was the girl's assurance, her promise. Then she felt her other hand taken by Jackson, and he smiled a worried smile.

  "This thing we are a part of, this is still God's good work and all, but there is more now. You know. We know. I wouldn't leave you Vega. Not for nothing.” He promised.

  Vega felt dumbstruck. She had felt these exact same things, with as much strength. She had just missed that fact. Somehow it had slipped her thoughts even as it grew inside her. There was a bond here, between these three, that exceed even love. "Then... what... what am I supposed to do?"

  "You lead," Jackson said just a hairsbreadth after Maria, and they shared a private smile.

  "I don't know how....” It hit her like a tumbling rock wall. She had been leading. All this while. Since she put that medallion on, since she joined them. The role came to her as easy as the medallion, and she did it without even thinking.

  Her world tilted a moment, falling out of perceptual focus. Who the fuck was she to lead these people, on what seemed to be a biblical quest to save
the entire world? I'm just dumb ole' Vega Severin. She wasn't sure she could do this, this saving the world thing, and they really expected her to lead them? She had known this, but it never settled in her mind until this very moment. It sent her heart racing and her blood shivering with cold. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she couldn't swallow, but for all of that, it felt so damn right. It was what she was supposed to do, no matter what she thought. No matter what anyone thought.

  She looked at the other two, both so in love, both exuding honest respect and infinite patience. "If... I...” She swallowed again, this time getting something to pass the knot in her throat. "Then I think we should not leave him on the helm alone anymore. When he brings out his maps, someone needs to be looking over his shoulder and asking questions. I think he means us harm, especially you, Jackson. I don't know what, but he does.

  "For now, let's not let on we noticed the rifles are gone. We still have a carton of grenades, right?"

  "I forgot about those. Yeah, it's in our closet space. Not much room in there, but they were there the last time I was in the closet.” Maria said, looking at Jackson for confirmation.

  He nodded to Maria, then looked at Vega, "Yeah, I saw them in there this morning, after, you know, the guns went away."

  "Let's keep those hidden. I still have my service weapon. I don't know how we would use the grenades, but it’s something we have."

  "I would bet you he saw them when he helped with the boxes. He was the one that put everything away, remember?” Jackson said.

  "Only if he was paying attention.” Maria countered.

  "Either way, if they are still there, then they are still there. As soon as we see land, we are going to just make him put us on shore." She let this fall like a rock in deep water. The two just stared, then nodded in unison.

  "Well, I reckon I should go on up and be with him now, right?" Jackson asked.

  "Whoever is not going on watch next, or coming off of watch when he takes over."

  "Can we both be up there? You think that would be alright?” Maria asked. She had just taken her turn steering the boat directly West, always directly West.

  "Sure."

  "I'll go up now, you come when you are done talking.” Jackson said and stood.

  Vega swore she felt the boat lean as he climbed up the ladder to the topside deck.

  Maria turned immediately back to Vega, "You know what he's up to, don't you?"

  Vega felt a wave of fear rush through her and flinched beneath those deep brown eyes. She cleared her throat, "I have a hunch, a suspicion, but no, I really don't."

  Maria stared for a moment, and Vega knew she was being felt by the girl. "Yeah, you do know, but you’re afraid to say."

  "No, I just think that... I don't know anything for sure."

  "He's going to steal us, you and me," Maria said as a matter of fact, a fact she knew Vega held in her own head.

  "That's what it seems like," She agreed after some moments.

  "I see him looking you over. His eyes study you like you were for sale or something."

  "I've seen you look at him in the same way," Vega said, feeling kind of defensive for no reason.

  "Well, the only other thing I can think of is you screw him."

  The girl's face didn't shift or change in anyway. It wasn't some obscene proposition for Maria, just another course they could take before the violence. Hell, it might even prevent the violence. If all William was suffering from was a class 'A' irreconcilable boner, then yeah. Vega had handled a couple of those in her past. But, the fine point of it was, she was never forced to. No one made her, and she spent a childhood making sure no one would. What sucked was how reasonable the idea was. Still, that argument was not an option regardless of the strategy behind it. He was good looking, but deep under that facade was a scumbag, through and through. "I can't do that. I... It's just...."

  "It's just nothing.” Maria cut her off. "It's just mother fucking nothing, that's what it is. That idea aside, though, I'm going to go up there and make sure nothing happens to my Jackson."

  Vega now felt nearly washed away with relief, as if buoyant and drawn by a rip-current of redemption. She had to get to know more about this girl's past. Two weeks cooped up on this tiny boat, all the talking and yeah, even laughing they had done, and Vega had no clue what soil this little seed had been planted in. Obviously, it was not a nurturing garden.

  Maria stood to go see after her man--as she put it--and Vega said, "One of us awake at all time. From now on, okay?"

  "Shit... I got your back, sister-girl," Maria winked, then headed up the ladder.

  Chapter 20

  Gabriel still led Big Guy even though he now had a rider. The girl was somewhat country grown, but just not big enough to reach stirrups or pull the reins as might be needed. Considering he had neither, it couldn't be. He tethered the older horse to Lance, as he had before, and rode at a slow steady pace. Much like before, they kept from the roads, but close enough a short tree climb would tell them where the road was.

  Amelia sat utterly silent, as quiet as any Marine Recon Sniper could hope for, and complained of nothing. This gave Gabriel a concern that she might not ask to fulfill her basic needs, either water or food or bathroom, but he reasoned if it was bad, if the need was strong enough, she would eventually open her mouth and speak. It made sense to him, so he turned his concerns to other things, such as the trail they left behind.

  Fug still kept his roving forward and flanking patrols, sniffing and urinating and sniffing some more. He would raise an alarm if he needed, but Gabriel didn't let his guard down, not like last time. His revolvers were full, his rifle held a neat stack of five shots, one in the pipe, and his machete was close at hand. He hoped it wouldn't get down to the machete, but if it did, it was there.

  Sometime over the past three days, they had turned west and eventually crossed into New York. He wasn't sure when, but it had happened. He found one of the main highway arteries connecting the city with the rest of the state, and that told him about where he was.

  The idea of going into the city crossed him mind exactly once. What a hell-hole that had to be by now. One monster filled wave, or even a hand full of waves, wouldn't be enough to kill everyone. New Yorkers knew when it was time to pull together, to solidify, and become the stone others broke themselves on. Images of the Towers, of the tragedy were paramount in his thoughts, along with the vision of people helping people. Also entire unions of construction crews walking off the job and marching towards the collapsed buildings, or land haulers driving their equipment to the site to begin digging.

  That was the real New York.

  He was sure there were survivors, hiding in the tunnels and sewers and buildings and bank vaults and wherever a body would fit. What kind of social order still remained, he didn't want to find out. The monsters would be everywhere, the New Yorkers would be everywhere, and neither of those places did he want to go. He would travel southwest until he entered Pennsylvania, then head south directly through New Jersey and Delaware and into Virginia. That had to be where the military was holding back the invasion. It had to be.

  The next day, they were within a few hours of the Pennsylvania border when they saw the others. Amelia had worked her way into the habit of asking to stop to go 'potty' and ask for food. Gabriel had never denied either of these, and the girl never complained about the light rations he enforced on them both. It was as if she understood there was only so much, and then there was no more.

  It was on one of these unscheduled stops that Amelia saw the others. She was in the bush, hiding her toilet needs from Gabriel while he waited in the saddle, wrestling with his patients for having to stop again. She scrambled out of the bush making no more sound then a field mouse, and pointed into the bush.

  Gabriel felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise up with his pulse, and he drew a revolver as he dismounted. In a low voice, "Fug." and he pointed at the girl. He didn't check to see if the dog obeyed him or not, but sunk to
his belly and entered the bush with less noise than Amelia. After working a few yard in, he saw the road. Not a major roadway, but not minor either. Four lanes separated with a median complete with a guard rail. It flowed in a dark grey way some fifty yards, east to west. In the west bound lane was the cart and a man and woman pulling it down the road.

  They were in their forties or perhaps fifties, and the cart was no more than a Nathan's hot dog cart one would find on any New York street corner. Only there were no hot dogs on this cart. It was populated with the worldly possessions of those who thought the world hadn't actually come to an end. Somewhere, seemingly to the West, someone would answer the 9-1-1 emergency number and actually send help. Poor souls, was the first thought that went through his head. The second was, put them out of their misery before this goes on too long.

  This second thought didn't scare him as it would a normal person. Just a little too much nuts for us, but it still turned his stomach. He was a killer, a killer of men, but not civilians escaping the battle, not refugees. They had every right to suffer if they wanted, and every right to end their suffering if they wanted. Death was as easy to come by now a days as crack, and the dealers wore black carapaces or jacked-up, wicked-toothed dog faces.

  That, and now, he was a killer of monsters. Not people, not anymore. Unless you have to. Yeah, unless he had to.

  He crawled back to Amelia, "It was just some refugees, nothing to worry about. They are heading to Buffalo or Syracuse or someplace like that."

  "Should we go there? To Sears-a-queue?"

  "No, we need to head to where people can protect you. I don't think there is anyone like that left in any of those places."

  She just stared at him in response.

  He waited a few moments, "Are you done with the... potty?" After years in the military, growing up with a father and no mother, the word 'potty' was almost too strange a word to use. It felt odd in his mouth and he just couldn't get used to it.

  "Yes," Amelia replied and walked straight to Big Guy, then turned, waiting for a lift up.