Blown Away!: Even More Confessions of an Angel in Training Page 9

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  “Grace, you’re with me,” Annex says as he organizes everyone into groups of twenty in front of the mouth of a huge cave.

  I’m not sure where we are, but this is not the portal Victor and I used at the main entrance to the The Wilds. Makes sense. A couple hundred Angels appearing out of The Wilds might set off a few alarms.

  “Why so many groups?” I ask.

  “A lot of places were hit, so we have to divide to conquer.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Southeastern Alabama University. It’s a bad scene. Lots of scared young people without their parents. You’re perfect for this one.”

  “But…” For every other Mission, I’d be given the ugly black briefcase with details on My Assignment and what I needed to accomplish for the Mission. The first time I’d been so impetuous that I hadn’t even read it in advance, but I’d learned that was not a good idea, and I was pretty sure Annex wouldn’t issue each of us a briefcase. It definitely wasn’t his style. “What will my cover be?” I ask, worrying about breaking one of the four simple rules that applied to every Guardian.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that. These people are so desperate for help they’re not going to ask where you came from or how you got there.” He nudges me toward the cave-portal. It’s chilly and damp as we step inside, and the next thing I know, we’re hurtling through space and time to end up at Southeastern Alabama University.

  I’ve always found the whole portal thing a bit disconcerting. When I landed at the River of Grass Recreation Center, it was weird just because it was the first time. The second time threw me because Grand Central Station would throw anyone who’s never been there before. This time it throws me for a completely different reason.

  It’s chaos.

  I know I’ve used that expression before, like when Lacey pulled the prank at the football game, but I was being overly dramatic. To, you know, make a point. This, on the other hand, is truly chaos.

  I’m blown away by the level of destruction.

  Does she realize what her anger causes?

  Does she care?

  And even more troubling—how could she be so high ranking? I’d had to develop patience, and it seems like she should be better at that than some low-ranking AIT.

  Homes, and all their contents, are shredded. It’s impossible to tell from the piles of debris, what belonged to who. Was this piece of wood from someone’s home? Or business? Is this piece of metal from a car? Or is it a piece of some mangled appliance?

  Finally, I see something recognizable.

  It’s a house. Or more accurately, a half of a house. The front and the roof are gone, but the back part is still standing. The line where the partial house begins looks like someone took a chainsaw to it, and threw away the other part. All of the furniture is missing, but the bath tub looks perfect. The strangest thing is that half the kitchen is missing, but the other half is fine. Glass-front cabinets display antique, floral teacups and saucers, and not a one is broken.

  It’s eerie looking at that house.

  Not because of the stuff—or the missing stuff.

  But because someone lived there, and I wonder where they were when the storm hit.

  “Where do we even start?” I ask no one in particular.

  But Annex answers. “We need to help people stay safe during the clean-up. About half of the injuries occur after the storm. Watch out for nails—it’s good we’ve got these hiking boots, but the victims might not. Keep an eye out for broken glass, electric lines. If you see spilled liquid, clean it up quickly. It might be flammable.”

  The guy that lights the huge bonfire every night is worried about flammable liquid?

  “If you run across injured people, don’t try to move them, but clean and bandage any open wounds. Do you have bandages?”

  I know that I’ve got a little gauze from the branding, and I try to remember what was in the First Aid kit that Michael had given me. “I don’t know…”

  “Wait. Annex takes off his backpack and unzips it, handing me bandages and antiseptic ointment. “There’s a park over there.” Annex points to an area past the broken homes that just looks like mangled tree limbs. “That’s where we’ll camp tonight. Now go help.”

  I stutter. This Mission is overwhelming. There’s so much to be done.

  Annex looks at me and his eyes soften. “It really doesn’t matter what you do, Grace. Everyone needs help.” He lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

  And then he leaves.

  Chapter 19

  I’m frozen for only a moment.

  Until a big, burly guy that could be Frank’s brother calls out, “Hey can you give me a hand with this?” He’s trying to move some debris off of a big metal thing. “That’s my generator under there.”

  “Sure.” I head over and pick up a couple pieces of large debris, moving them to the side.

  “Whoa! You’re stronger than you look,” He gasps.

  I smile sweetly at him. “I work out.”

  We labor for a bit, until the generator is freed. “Thanks,” he says. “My wife’ll appreciate having power tonight.”

  Funny thing. Once I got started, helping became easy. I just moved from one person to the next and did whatever they needed—piling up debris, bandaging, calming a crying kid, a run to bring water and food. People said thanks to me so many times I lost count. Never had a Mission felt this important. Never had I done so much good.

  Throughout the rest of the morning, I work steadily, bumping into other Locusts every once in a while. I saw Frank console a hysterical woman. He wrapped her in a huge bear hug and let her cry it out. Maybe he wasn’t all bad.

  Scratch that.

  Maybe he wasn’t bad at all.

  By afternoon, I’d made my way to campus. A group of students cluster outside their dormitory. They’re sitting in a circle that reminds me of nights around the bonfire. Each of them takes a turn telling a story. It’s their version of Disclosures.

  The dorm itself is not in bad shape. It looks livable, but I think they just want to be together. Need to be together. One strange-looking, doleful girl stands near the group, hovering but not really joining them. She walks up to a boy and lays her hand on the top of his head. He looks around sharply and swats at the air, hitting her arm, and then…his hand passes right through her.

  I know what that is! It’s my first ghost.

  Even Mercy loved the HVEN TV episodes of Spirit Worlds, when they featured a good ghost story. Who wouldn’t be fascinated by souls who didn’t want to move on?

  I had to meet her, but she refused to stop hovering over the group, especially the boy. I knew I should move on myself—to helping someone else—but I couldn’t tear myself from this spot. It was too good to pass up.

  Finally, the group disperses, and the girl starts following the boy, hanging back far enough to stay out of his space.

  It’s my chance.

  I cruise up right next to her and say, “Shouldn’t you be headed home?” I’d heard another Angel use that line during one of the episodes of “Spirit Worlds” and thought it was great.

  She startles, and then eyes me warily.

  “Yes, that’s right, I can see you. And I also know you’re not supposed to be hanging around. Why don’t you want to go? Is it because of him?”

  “He was my boyfriend,” she says, the sadness thick as brambles in The Wilds. I’d need a machete to hack through that, but Michael had only given me the Swiss army knife. “We’d promised each other it was for always.”

  I didn’t want to mention that he hadn’t looked overwhelmed with sadness or that he’d swatted her hand away. When people truly sensed the presence of a spirit they loved, they sort of zoned out. I’d seen that on the show, too. At any rate, making her feel worse about the situation wasn’t going to help matters. “If it’s for always, you’ll be reunited,” I tell her.

  “What do you know about it?” She snaps.

>   About love? Only a little. I wasn’t sure if that’s what I felt for Victor, but I’d hate the idea that I wouldn’t see him for years and years. One thing that complicated our relationship was that I never knew when I’d see him again. Still, I did know a thing or three about Heaven and Paradise. “Heaven is lovely. Paradise is beyond your wildest imaginings.”

  She looked at me with skepticism.

  “I’m a Guardian Angel,” I explain. Not one-hundred percent true, but close enough for her.

  “What?” Everything about her demeanor says she definitely doesn’t believe me, and that she wonders if I’m mentally unstable.

  “I’m a Guardian Angel. I swear!” I light my halo and she gasps. Is this a violation of the rules? I’m not sure. She’s not Human, only a ghost. Not technically a violation, I suppose, even though it seems like a gray area. Angels never reveal themselves on the show. Michael’s just going to have to cut me some slack. I’m here because of him, after all.

  I don’t tell her about Michael, instead saying, “I’m here to help after the storm. Is that how you…”

  “Died? No I was in a car accident last semester.”

  Well at least that explains his not looking completely grief stricken.

  “Listen. I know you don’t want to leave him behind, but I see such sadness in your countenance. You will feel better. I promise.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positively.”

  “And I’ll see him later?”

  This would be tricky. It was important to tell the truth. “When two people are forever, they always reunite.”

  “Can I say goodbye?”

  It breaks my heart when she asks that, because she can’t. Not really. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  She walks quickly to catch up to him. “Brandon, I have to go now.”

  He stops for a moment and bends down to untie and re-tie his shoe. She leans over his head.

  “I don’t know if you can hear me, but please be happy. I’ll see you when you… get home.”

  And for one moment he looks up like he did hear her.

  She walks back to me, tears in her eyes. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Do you know what to do?”

  “Oh, yes. The tunnel of light is always right in front of me. I’ve just been avoiding it. I’m going.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Cross my heart,” the ghost says.

  “And hope to die?” I ask.

  “I’m already dead.”

  She has a point. “Godspeed,” I say.

  She takes three steps, and then she’s gone.

  Chapter 20

  Freakin’ awesome! That was better than anything I’ve ever done as a Guardian—leading a soul to Heaven. I feel like I’m walking on clouds, even without wings.

  Nothing can bring me down, not even when I realize that I am, in fact, under the clouds. Because it starts to rain. On me.

  Professor Keen is not really an I-told-you-so guy. It’s one of many qualities that make him my favorite teacher at L’Academie. Yet, he did warn me to practice my Elemental Controls, and even though I never had to use them in The Wilds, they sure would come in handy right about now.

  It’s been a long, strange day so far, what with leaving The Wilds to head for Earth, seeing the devastation, helping so many, and meeting my first ghost, but it isn’t over yet. The rain isn’t stopping, and there is so much left to do before I can meet up with the rest of my Locust team in the park. I’ll practice my Elemental Controls. This time I envision a special waterproof coating for my imaginary umbrella. Surprise. It seems to work. The rain falls to about two feet above my head and then sheets in rivulets down a rounded invisible surface to fall off all around me. Desert dry, I continue working on piling debris by myself to clear a path for anyone who needs to walk through campus.

  Working steadily in silence is soothing. The only sound is the pitter-patter of rain on my invisible umbrella until I feel a silence in the silence. An uncomfortableness that can only mean one thing.

  Someone is watching me.

  It’s a thin, top-heavy girl with long brown hair and a mole near her upper lip. It sounds like she’s mumbling, “Lo’s never gonna believe this.”

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  She just points at my invisible, protective dome. “Um… maybe. Are you a genie?” she asks.

  “A genie? You mean like someone who lives in a magic lamp?”

  “Or…it could be a duffle bag.”

  She’s a strange one. “No, I’m not a genie.” It comes out sounding like I’m insulted by her question. I’m really not. More like curious.

  “Oh, okay, just wondered.” She giggles. “I’ve seen some strange things in my life, but they all involved a genie. That must not be magic, maybe some new technology…or maybe I’m going crazy.”

  I’m not sure how to handle the situation. She’s not crazy…or maybe she is with all that genie talk. But she is witnessing my Elemental Controls. I decide to break the rules—it’s not like it’s the first time. Besides, allowing a human to see a power like this in action probably violates something. “I’m Grace Lightbourne, an Angel in Training. That…” I point up at the invisible dome, “…is one of my powers. Ordinarily I wouldn’t tell you this, but you seem like open-minded soul.”

  Ordinarily I wouldn’t tell, but I have a hunch she doesn’t tell most people about her genie. And, if she does, and starts talking about an Angel in Training, everyone will think she’s nuts.

  “Oh, okay. I’m Em, by the way. I don’t go to school here, but our school is close by, and we didn’t get one tornado. It’s weird the way that happens.”

  You have no idea how weird it is that they happen at all.

  “Anyway, I came with some other students to help out.”

  So maybe she’s strange and sweet. “I’m Grace. Same deal. I go to school somewhere else, but I’m helping out.”

  “Nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I want to add something like, next time I’ll bring my genie, but let the opportunity pass.

  I can probably squeeze in one more Assignment before I need to head to the campsite for the night. The streets are mostly empty now, so I’m having a bit of a hard time finding someone to help. On my way to the park, I pass a library. It’s much smaller than our Hall of Records, but sturdy enough, built from red brick. Sadly, one end of it resembles a stack of Legos knocked down by a careless kid. I walk to the front door and there’s one woman working feverously inside.

  “Need some help?” I holler in.

  “Oh! You scared the livin’ daylights out of me.” She holds a hand to her chest. “Yes, please.”

  “Are you the only one here?”

  “Afraid so. Everybody else has got other things to tend to. Cleanin’ around their house, helpin’ family. I’m lucky enough to come through this mostly in one piece.”

  I work my way over to her. She’s pulling books from the rubble, and if they aren’t in too bad of shape, she’s putting them into piles. The ones that are destroyed she tosses those into a big trash can on wheels, after she writes down information about them, shaking her head every time she has to do it. “There’s one thing I can’t understand. Why would God do this?”

  I’m pretty sure that was rhetorical, but I answer anyway. “It’s not God; it’s Mother Nature.” I could do a much better job of explaining, but I’m certain that would land me in some hot water.

  “Well, then, Mother Nature is a bee-ya—

  I hold up my palm, stopping just short of slapping it over her mouth. “Don’t say it! Don’t even think it. You’d just tick her off more than she is already.”

  She chuckles and it blooms into a full-on laugh. “That’s funny. You’re funny. I didn’t think anythin’ could make me laugh right about now.”

  Whew! I thank my lucky stars and the Big Guy above that somehow I softened her anger all while staying on the good side of Mother Nature.

  Her laug
h dies down and her eyes soften. “My Lord, everything is such a mess. I just don’t know how some folks are gonna survive. I mean, have you seen it out there?”

  I nod.

  “Some have hardly no earthly possessions left. A few people died. Grief is hard enough to get through in the best of circumstances, but this…”

  I wish I knew what would comfort her, but all I do is nod, and then give her a hug.

  “Well, you sure are sweet for helping me. You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You know what my Sissy says? She says when we go to the afterlife we won’t worry about this...” She waves her arms around, looking for the word, “…crap. You think she’s right?”

  “Sissy sounds pretty smart.”

  “I sure hope you both are right.”

  I work my way to the worst of the rubble and start pulling books, stacking the keepers. The rest I catalogue the way she showed me and throw them away. I’ve been working for about an hour and the room we’re working is uncomfortably hot. No electricity, no A/C. She must be feeling it too, because she looks over at me, face flushed, and says, “The rest of these aren’t going anywhere. You really should head home and so should I, but I so appreciate your help.”

  I wipe the dust from my hands onto my already filthy jeans. I’ve managed to save about a hundred books, and probably had to throw away about as many. She comes over to give me a hug, and while she’s got her arms around me she says, “Oh my, Lord. Did you do that?”

  I’m not sure what she’s talking about. “Did I do something wrong?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “No, but that!” She points to my stacks of books. The titles of the books on the top three stacks read, in order: The Truth about Forever, Perfect, I am the Messenger. “See it?” she asks.

  Oh I see it alright. “I did that, but not on purpose.”

  She breaks into a saintly smile. “Well if that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”

  I’d have to agree. Watching for signs is one of my top four rules, but maybe it’s important for people to watch for them, too, because you never know when you’ll receive a message of hope. I look up and silently mouth, “Thank You.”