by S. B. Niccum
“So how did this all start?” Russell asks conversationally.
“The rebellion started when the current president went to a secret summit and hatched out this brilliant plan with the leaders of the other world powers at the time. They wrote out a template for a Re-Organized World Empire, which would stabilize the world’s economy. They claimed that this new world order would end world hunger and poverty, do away with current evil world leaders, and unify the world in peace and harmony. There would be no more world wars, no more civil wars, and no more oppressive and inhumane policies based on absurd religious practices. In short, they packaged crap, tied a pretty bow around it, and shoved it down everyone’s throat by way of a massive ad campaign.”
“Oh, they were good,” Tony recalls. “They made heartwarming TV ads promoting world peace, and persuasive billboards encouraging people to vote for Prop. ROWE at the next election. They also sent out representatives door-to-door, giving out pamphlets as well as gifts of every kind. They were armed too, which I always found interesting.”
“Yeah, I remember. I was alive when one of them offered my family a gift certificate for the local grocery store with a week’s worth of food,” one of the spirits, a woman, stated in agreement. “When I told them to take their gift certificate and stick it where the sun-don’t-shine, I promptly got a gun pointed at my head, was arrested over trumped up charges, and then was sent to prison. My husband was given an ultimatum: ‘vote for ROWE or watch me die.’”
“You can’t be serious?” I gasp. “Here? In this country?”
“Right here in this country,” she maintains. “I told him not to cave in, and he didn’t. I was murdered shortly after in what they called ‘an accidental prison incident’. That’s my daughter over there.” She points to the girl who’s teaching Sam to operate the telegraph. “The only surviving member of my family. She was a baby when I was killed. She doesn’t remember me, or even know I’m right here next to her,” she says with longing in her eyes. It reminds me of that same look my mother had when I saw her for the first time.
“How awful for you,” I say, mortified by the fact that all of this has to do with me. ME! I let Agatha loose on this planet. I let her join forces with the Second One. I opened the rift and upset the spiritual balance of my world. Me.
What would all these spirits who have suffered so much say to me if they knew what I have done? But what am I saying? I’m Open. They can see it, can’t they? I look at Tony, the short spirit who said he had a dubious life on earth. He’s Open, but I can’t quite tell what his mistakes had been. They have been erased, as mine have. Yet…I know. Even if they don’t show, I know what I’ve done.
“It was inevitable,” the veteran continues, eyeing me cautiously. “We all knew that the world would come to an end sooner or later, one way or another,” he says meaningfully, tilting his head toward me. Maybe he’s a discerner, like me. “No one can stop that from happening, but we can save as many souls as possible in the process. Life in the shelters is no life at all. Mortals need to fight for their convictions and they need to stand for something. Even if they can’t win, they have to keep fighting.”
“But they will win in the end, and there are small victories every day,” the woman who was murdered says. “My death was a victory. Their lives are a victory, this rebellion is victory, and when the world ends that will be a victory for all those who fought.”
“Well said, Carmen, well said.” Tony reaches up and pats her on the arm. “Now let’s get back to work. We need more spirits from Heaven, and when I say more, I mean, lots more!”
“Two per mortal, I suggest,” Russell states. “One to protect and guide the mortal, the other to fight the cast-outs and send the escaped prisoners back to their realm.”
“But how can we get more spirits?” I ask. “I mean, don’t we need to have special permission for that or something?”
“Yes we do,” Tony says, stabbing the air between us with a stubby finger. “The High Council will want a specific plan. What we need to do is come up with a good plan of attack, something that the High Council will not be able to refuse.”
“Yes!” the veteran says enthusiastically, then calls everyone’s attention to a plan he’s hatched out in the last minute or so. Russell nods with interest as he hears the details. He adds a few comments, and everyone agrees with him. Suddenly, the two ex-military guys are going back and forth coming up with a strategy that, even I must admit, sounds perfect. But I’m only half listening to them; another part of me is still dwelling on what Tony said about the High Council not refusing a good plan. What if I came up with a good plan of my own, one that would involve rescuing Alex and fulfilling my current mission? What if I didn’t have to neglect either one? What if I could do them both?
“I’ll do it!” I say loudly, raising my hand like an eager schoolgirl. “I’ll go talk to the High Council…again,” I add under my breath.
Tony has a look of uncertainty on his face, while Russell looks suspicious, and the rest are just plain shocked by my sudden eagerness to go back. I know what they’re thinking, too. They think I don’t like my mission here, that I find Earth too changed, too difficult and that I want to go back to Heaven. But that’s not true at all. Well…part of it is true, I do find it changed and sad, but I would never leave Sam behind.
The only one who suspects my true motives is Russell, who wants the same thing I do—Alex’s speedy release from Prison. We haven’t shared this with each other, but we both fear seeing Alex among the escaped prisoners’ faces. We’re both afraid of having to be the ones who have to escort Alex back to Prison, by force, or worse…having to use the sword on him.
With his eyes trained on mine, Russell clears his throat. “I think it’s a good idea,” he says with authority. “Tess is good with words and quite diplomatic. I think she’ll be a great choice to send to speak to the High Council.”
“Are you sure?” Tony leans into Russell and mutters under his breath, misgiving showing clearly on his face. Unfortunately, Russell is so much taller than Tony that instead of being level with his ear—as Tony intended to be—he’s practically level with Russell’s bellybutton, and I have to bite my lip to suppress a smile.
“Sure I’m sure!” Russell leans down and whispers back.
“But she’s said so herself, she was a tailor or something,” Tony insists.
“I know of a carpenter that did great things,” the woman says reproachfully. “I was a simple housewife, and look at me now!”
“Yes, but—”
“What Tony is trying to say,” the veteran interjects. “Is that whoever goes to speak with the High Council has to be very passionate. Has not only to be persuasive, but also truly invested in this plight.”
“You don’t think I’m invested?” I ask, both stunned and hurt.
“Well…” the veteran shrugs. “Not like the rest of us who still have people here who we care about.”
I’m about to respond with a few choice words and an example of exactly how invested I really am, when Russell sticks his hand out and stops me. “What you may not know is that Tess and I are family. What you may also not know is that Samantha, over there, is one of our descendants and has a very special bond with Tess. What you might also not know is that Tess, here, has a more intimate knowledge of what is going on here on Earth than the whole of you combined, and while I’m not going to give you the details of this knowledge, or why she has it, I will simply say this: Tess is better qualified than any of you to speak in our behalf to the Council. In fact, if there is one spirit who could ever convince them of taking any sort of increased measures toward this war, Tess is it.”
With such high recommendations from Russell, the rest of the spirits have no choice but to send me to the High Council with a detailed plan of attack. I have to admit that I don’t feel as “uniquely qualified” as Russell put it, other than it’s my fault that this is going on to begin with, and the responsibility of fixing this mess sort of falls on
my shoulders.
As long as Sam stays underground with Gladys, her new friend, and the rest of the rebellion, she should be safe. So I leave her temporarily, with the eyes of every spiritual member of the rebellion trained on me. They don’t wish me luck, they just stare in dumb amazement, baffled over Russell’s words and wondering why I would be so uniquely qualified for this task.
“There is a time assigned for all,” one of the High Councilors says after I make my second appeal. My first request of sending more Heavenly forces down has been readily accepted. All the spirits from the rebellion can now relax and know that all their plans will soon begin to take fruition. But I’m not done with the High Council, or with my requests.
“All angelic duties are timed perfectly,” another adds.
“You mean to say that if I don’t perform my assigned angelic duties, no one else can?”
“No. Someone will be sent in your place, but it will not be the same. There is a purpose for everything, not just for those who you’d help, but also for your own benefit.”
“But what about Alex? Besides, the moment I get back with him, I’ll come right back to my post and happily continue it. Can’t we just postpone those same lessons until I get back?” There is some deliberation among them through the link. I can’t read them, but I can tell that they are in the middle of a discussion because they look at each other, and nod, or shake their heads now and then in civil agreement. They do this for some time. Finally one of them looks up and addresses me. “The problem here is twofold. You have a mortal charge that needs you, and you want to pluck a plant that has no roots.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“You might be able to remove a spirit from Prison, but the spirit might still remain there,” another councilor explains.
“We all know he doesn’t belong there, and that he made an error in judgment. He’s paid for his mistakes long enough, he deserves to be forgiven and to be set free,” I maintain.
“Forgiveness has been available to him all along,” One says.
“But he hasn’t sought it,” another adds.
“He’s lost in there! It’s oppressive and disheartening! Please let me take him out. He will see things more clearly once he’s out.”
They don’t respond to my last comment. Instead they exchange a series of glances and do a great deal of nodding again. Finally, after another long period of silent discussions, they all snap to attention, and sit perfectly still. I think they are receiving some sort of communication from the Eternals, because a thick blanket of peace falls over the whole room. Even I feel it.
One of the High Councilors rises and delivers the verdict solemnly yet with a piercing, kind eye that seems to convey fatherly love. “The Eternals have granted you permission. But,” he lifts one admonitory finger. “There is one condition.” He pauses and looks at me significantly, making sure I know that what he’s about to tell me is of grave importance.
“Okay,” I say.
“That you bring back with you anyone you encounter along the way.”
“Anyone?”
“Anyone.”
“Who crosses your way,” another clarifies.
“Very well,” I agree and they nod with approval.
“Ah!” one of them exclaims as I turn to leave. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You must find a replacement to watch over your charge. She must not be left alone at this critical time.”
“Anyone?”
“Someone qualified, but of your choosing.”
I don’t even make it all the way out the building when I find a large gathering of familiar spirits that surround a female Cherub, who is holding a scroll. As I approach, Valerie turns and looks at me, then elbows Dane in the ribs to get his attention. He feels nothing and takes no notice of the jab; he’s too intent on what the Cherub is saying. Finally, Valerie turns his face toward me and a broad smile crosses his face as he beckons me with a jerk of his head.
“What’s going on?” I whisper in Valerie’s ear, not wanting to disrupt the Cherub.
“They want one of us to go get Henry out of Prison.”
“Who’s Henry?”
“He was Estelle’s husband, you know, Russell’s father, my grandfather, Alex’s great grandfather…” She looks toward Estelle who is holding fast to a tall, distinguished man who is dressed like he just stepped out of a Jane Austen movie set. Estelle herself looks radiant, with her dark red hair and chocolate eyes.
“He looks like Mr. Darcy,” I whisper in Valerie’s ear.
“I know!” She elbows me in the stomach amiably. “I’ve been saying that all along. Anyway, they’ve been dating now for a while,” Valerie leans over and explains. “He lived in Ireland in the 1800’s. He heard her sing and…”
“The rest is history,” I finish.
“Yep. Pretty much. His name is James.”
“A match made in Heaven?”
“Literally,” we both giggle, and the Cherub holding the scroll gives us a reproving, sharp look. It’s a bit strange to be with Valerie like this—giggling. In life, she struggled with depression, and each day was a battle for her. Though I seldom saw her laughing, I always got along with her, and we enjoyed a good relationship. But now, I find myself being taken back when I see her laugh or smile. She looks unencumbered, light, and free—like a burden has been removed from her personality—and she’s finally able to be herself.
“What is she talking about?” I lean over again and ask her in a low whisper.
“Henry is apparently ready to leave Spirit Prison and one of us has to go get him. The only problem is that no one wants to.”
“So what is the Cherub going on about?”
“Our duties, blah, blah, blah.” Valerie rolls her eyes. “The problem is that none of us is Open, so we can’t go get him. Our own issues with him are the ones keeping us from Opening. So you see, it’s a quandary.”
“Ahem!” the Cherub woman says loudly and looks at me. “Perhaps you should go, since you seem to be the only one from this clan who is Open.”
“Clan?”
“That’s what she calls us, a clan. Not a family, a clan.”
“Better than a coven,” I say, then we both chuckle once more. The female Cherub is not impressed and she looks at me expectantly. “It just so happens that I am going that way, so if he can find me, I’ll bring him back.”
“Really?” Estelle says jubilantly, and comes to my side to hug me. “That would be so nice of you.”
“I’m going in after Alex, but I promised to help anyone who crosses my path. Let’s just hope he does. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’ll find him.”
“He is ready,” the Cherub says. “He will naturally seek your light.”
“Good! But I do need help with my mortal charge.” I turn to Valerie with pleading eyes. “You are trained as an angel, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but...”
“Don’t worry, she’s very sweet—one of your descendants. Robyn’s great-great granddaughter or something. Russell is there too! She senses spirits so don’t spook her. Just keep her safe until I get back.” I rattle in a hurry.
“O-kay,” Valerie says, a little overwhelmed.
“Can you do this for me? I was told that I could go get Alex, but only if I found someone to watch over Samantha.” I ask, biting my lip and looking at her expectantly.
“We’ll do it!” Dane volunteered. “We’ll do it together! I’ve always wanted to watch over a descendant. It’d be an honor.”
I look at Valerie for a moment, and she nods in agreement. Her eyes are big and still full of shock. “Sorry to just dump this on you, but I do want to go get Alex as soon as possible.”
“Of course, of course,” Valerie nods again, and looks at me steadily with her violet eyes.
“Oh! And while you’re there, tell Russell and the others that I did get approval from the High Council, and that they will start sending more reinforcements.” I say as I
start gliding away.
Valerie is still nodding and looking fixedly at me with her piercing violet eyes, making me feel self-conscious. “What?” I ask, floating back down toward her a little.
Those intense looks from Valerie are never a good sign. But she says nothing; she simply bites her lip and shakes her head. “Nothing. Just…good luck Tess,” she says with consternation, then stretches a forced smile across her face. Both Valerie and Dane nod numbly as I fly away, toward the dividing line between Heaven and Hell.
Chapter 14
The transitional space between the two states of being is not like a well marked dividing line; it’s simply an edge. On one side there is nothing but light, on the other, nothing but darkness. It’s like a State line, you step over, and you’re there—no signs, no gates, or roadblocks. Anyone can come in or come out of either one. So what holds all those spirits anchored to the darkness? What kept me there? Ignorance, guilt, my own blindness?
I hate being back here. It’s dark and dismal, and even in my Open state, I feel that oppressive feeling that I felt the moment I first came—wrong place, wrong time, wrong side of town. The only light that shines here is my own. I’m like a beacon and it scares me. What if they start coming at me again? The place looks oddly deserted, though, and the bubbles that assailed me the last time I was here are nowhere in sight. This creeps me out even more, and I wish I weren’t alone. I wish I had Dorian with me, but he’s gone on some top-secret mission on Earth—he’s big-time now.
Drifting forward, I try to focus on Alex and I try to channel all my energy into thinking of him and the good times we had together back on Earth, but thoughts of that Henry guy keep intruding. I’ve never seen him, not a picture, not a description, nothing. I’ve never even heard anything about him. Russell once mentioned his childhood, but had simply said that his mom was a single mother. I never asked any questions, and he never volunteered any information. How bad had Henry been to keep Russell, Estelle, and Valerie back from Opening? He alone was responsible for holding all those spirits back. I held my own mother back unintentionally, because of my lack of forgiveness. I wonder what key this Henry character holds that will help all those spirits move on?
