He ran his thumb over his index finger, feeling the bone beneath the skin. He bent his finger and then opened it again, thinking about a wing stretching and lifting, full and brilliant.
“I wish I could tell you all what it means, what God wants for us to do, but I can’t. I just feel this overwhelming urgency to get to that church, like something important is waiting there —even if it means I die.”
Irv handed him his heavier coat. “Let’s get going then. We’ve got about a good day’s walk if the weather holds. I barely know how to pray, but I’m going to say we all should do a lot of it, whether it’s normal for us or not.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The dream began its persistent pursuit again, lapping at him as the first vestiges of sleep took him over. The dark angels took flight around the church, circling the proud steeple.
This time, though, he looked out at the entire world from the top of the stone steps which led to the door that was supposed to welcome the lost. The angels carried the black fog with them as they grew in number, washing it over the earth everywhere they went. The fog suffocated the people it touched, and he watched them die.
The wings were absent from his back. His desire to help the people the angels tormented was strong, and when he tried to descend the steps to do what he could to save those the angels stalked, cold slimy hands grasped his arms and held him captive.
Hopelessness sank through his skin, and dug its teeth into the blood in his veins. Ashar tried to pull free of the hands holding him, fighting the death they spilled into him.
His knees gave out, the stone against his knees as cold and unforgiving as the souls of the angels who wanted his death.
The shadowy face of a dark angel laughed at him, its eyes wicked and empty, so hollow he understood perfectly being able to see straight into someone’s soul, or lack thereof.
They had won. He had failed. Ashar let his head fall, his chin against his chest. He could feel the slow beat of his heart, becoming slower as he died.
A thin line of light climbed the steps, challenged the fog, and won. It did not spread, but held its own. Ashar followed the stream of light down the steps, and through the hovering thickness of the fog’s vapor.
Far in the distance, a lone man walked toward him. He was tall, his shoulders proud, his stance confident. His hair was long and as dark as the rest of his features. The light illuminated him, clung to him. Even from the distance Ashar could see the brown of his eyes.
They filled him again with hope. This man was coming to help him. His heart gave a hard kick, as though a surge of life had been jolted back into him.
Despite the light wrapping around him, the dark angels seemed to not have seen the man. He continued his walk toward Ashar unhindered, until suddenly two giant full wings rose from his back, lifting high above his head and then arching out in a brilliant display of glistening feathers. Like a beacon given light, the angels screamed. With a thunderous swoop, a throng of them arched toward the man, intent on attack.
The man did not so much as blink at their approach. With little effect, they crashed into the light surrounding him and were flung away, their screams rising in rage. Again and again they tried, with the same result.
The man lifted a hand straight out to his side and light cleared more of the darkness. Another man appeared beside him. As pale as the man beside him was dark, his hair and skin were fair. His eyes were dark, but indistinguishable in color to Ashar and, like the other man’s, they held his.
As the first figure had been, this man seemed invisible to the dark angels. The dark angels were still attempting to break through the barrier of light around the first, reaching out for his wings in all of their glory, but failing each time. The light was impenetrable.
From the back and sides of the second man, eight wings opened and spread, four on each side, the lustrous feathers filling the air and uniting the light around the two of them. As before, with the appearance of the wings, the dark angels furiously tried to attack.
The second man lifted an arm out to his side and beside him, a woman appeared. Her skin was a beautiful brown color, her hair a wild mass of curls around her head. Freckles spattered over her cheeks and nose. Her brows and lashes were thick and dark over chocolate eyes. Her chin was tilted at a confident angle, her lips slightly curved. Her eyes glimmered as, at each side, a thick wing as full as her height spread out to further expand the growing shield of light.
As the others had, she lifted an arm beside her. Another man joined them. His skin was medium-hued, his hair brown and wavy around his head. From behind him, six wings rose and spread, three per side. There was a calm stillness about the man that drew Ashar’s eye and made him think he knew the answers to your secrets.
Ashar’s eyes were drawn back to the first man as he lifted the arm on the other side of him. Immediately, a young girl appeared. He guessed her to be pre-teen. She was beautiful for one so young. Her hair was long and straight, white-blonde, her skin as pale as her hair and her eyes as blue as a clear sky.
She walked with the same air of confidence and strength of the man next to her, was as unwavering as he when the four wings that lifted from her sides brought the same menacing attack from the dark angels.
Their screaming had risen in volume and fierceness. The shrouding fog vibrated with it.
The girl lifted an arm and another appeared, this one the youngest of them all. He thought her age to be around five-years-old. Her hair hung to her waist in gentle curls, a coppery brown color that glinted in the light. Her eyes were a brown topaz and captivating. Ashar found it difficult to look away. Her wings spread like butterflies. Eight wings, their size proportional, but no less brilliant in color or beauty.
The presentation of her wings caused every dark angel to screech so loudly that Ashar clutched at his ears to shield them from the horrific sound. The ground trembled and the hands holding him released as every angel that he could see in the vicinity flew at the girl.
Without blinking, she looked through the mass coming at her, and straight at him. Seconds before they reached her, she smiled and reached out to take hold of the hand of the older girl at her side, and in quick succession, one-by-one, each of those walking toward him grasped hands.
With the joining of the last hand, the light flashed, and brightened into such a transcending radiance that Ashar at first lifted his hands to guard his eyes from it. Lowering his hands, his eyes were drawn to it as it flooded against him, around him, into him. Warmth flared along the bones on his back and a strange empowering flutter traveled along each one.
They tingled; a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced began at the bones and filled him. Ashar pushed up tall onto his feet, lifted his arms and cried out in joy. It was the only adequate word he had to express the sensation.
He didn’t have to see to know wings grew from his back, and extended into the air around him, his bones stretching. Four, like the number of bones on his back. A meeting of purpose and time. A reward for not turning back. A promise of things to come.
The light reached out for him and, unified, it spread in a deafening pulse, destroying the black angels and all of the wickedness they had brought with them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He had been right.
Ashar woke well before the others. He rose, left the close circle they had slept in beneath the tarp, and sought a spot among the snow-covered trees. There were no wings upon his back.
It didn’t matter.
The bones were meant to be wings, just as he had always believed.
The dream had been powerful. Symbolic of what, he had no idea. What he did know was that he was not alone. He was not a freak. He would never think those words about himself again. He had been given a great gift from God. He had been given knowledge that there were others with a purpose that somehow mirrored his own, and they were meant to find each other. They were coming for him. Or he was seeking them. That answer wasn’t clear.
Wh
at was clear was that the church meant something vital and necessary to the future. His, the world, the others he had seen in the dream. Something important. They would reach it today. There would be no more dreams to bring more revelation.
He would have to trust that he had been shown enough to fuel his courage.
Ashar sought his knees in the snow, thanked God for everything that was good. He prayed for the friends that walked with him and for their protection. He asked for unwavering strength and wisdom for what was to come.
The rest were awake when he returned. Carl handed him a bottle of water. “You look different,” he commented, biting into a piece of jerky.
Ashar felt different. He nodded. “I dreamed again.”
“What did you see?” Carl leaned forward, raptly attentive.
“Others like me. And a light so powerful and amazing it had the power to destroy evil.”
“Others like you, how?” Carl questioned. “You mean, with bones like yours?”
He hadn’t seen bones. “They were just like me. I didn’t see bones. We have the same purpose.” It was difficult to explain when it was more of a feeling in his spirit than concrete knowledge. How did one explain purpose?
“Huh.” Carl pressed his lips together and rolled air around inside of his mouth, making his cheeks morph into odd shapes.
“So no revelations about what is going to happen?” Adam asked, rolling his eyes at Carl.
“No, sorry.” Ashar supposed it was a test of faith for each of them, walking into the unknown.
Carl blew the air out of his mouth noisily. “Except evil. Are we supposed to be bringing the light that destroys evil? Piece of cake.” He skipped his eyes over each of them, his lips pushed out, his head nodding.
Ashar frowned at him. Carl was acting goofier than normal.
“Can I… borrow your bible?” Ashar was surprised at Adam’s request. He handed it over wordlessly.
Firelight glimmered around them, the smoke funneling up into the cold air. Carl was popping his lips now. Was it fear, he wondered? Had Adam asked for his bible because he was afraid?
Irv dug through his pack and brought out a bag, holding it up.
“What’s that?” Carl asked, holding the T and then repeating it multiple times.
“Coffee. Been saving it. I’m thinking today is the day, although I’m thinking maybe ya shouldn’t have any.”
Ashar grinned at his friend. “How long have you had that?”
Irv lifted a shoulder. “A while.”
Carl jumped to his feet, did a little dance. “Rude, dude. I love coffee!”
“You can only have it if you sit down,” Adam grumbled.
“We’ll reach Harpersville today,” Irv said as he added ground coffee to the water already boiling and stirred. “We’ll have to strain it. I don’t have cups, so we’ll have to let it cool off a bit and then just share it.”
“I’m going to find a tree,” Carl announced and crashed into the trees noisily.
“I have my thermos,” Ashar reminded Irv, removing it from his pack and unscrewing the lid that doubled as a cup.
Irv accepted it when he handed it over. “We should talk about weapons,” Irv suggested. “I know you have the gun, Ashar. You brought it, right?”
Ashar nodded.
Irv set the cup by his side and removed his hunting knife. He set it in front of him, laying his axe beside it, then a snare wire and, last, a slingshot.
“Where’d you get that?” Carl exclaimed as he clomped back in. He reached for the slingshot and picked it up. He pulled it back and pretended to shoot. “Cool. I want one.”
“Takes a lot of practice. I still haven’t mastered it, so take it. Maybe ya have the knack. Just try not to shoot one of us, Carl.” Irv rolled his eyes.
Carl picked up a small stick from the tinder pile and broke it into pieces, settling one into the slingshot and attempting to hit a tree across from him. The stick fell in front of him. “Hmm,” he murmured. “Harder than it looks.”
Irv grabbed Carl’s pack and rummaged through it. “Man, ya are messy.”
“Yup. That’s what my mama used to say. What are you looking for?”
“Weapons.”
Adam was digging out what he had and putting it in front of him as Irv had. Like the rest of them, he had an axe and a couple of knives.
Carl tucked another broken piece of stick in the slingshot and made another attempt, failing again.
“You’re too slow.” Adam held out his hand and Carl handed the weapon over. Adam broke off a twig end and pulled back, aiming at a tree. “Don’t hesitate, just pull, aim, and fire.” The stub went flying and hit the tree it looked like he’d been aiming for.
Adam grinned. “See, just like that.” He handed the slingshot back.
“You must have had one of these as a toy once, huh?” Carl asked. He repeated the loading process and tried to mimic Adam’s movements. This time, the square of wood made it about a foot in front of him.
“Make sure you aren’t squeezing the area in front of the ammo. Just keep it lightly held in your fingers, so it has a clear area to release into.” Adam rose and tried to show Carl what he meant with his thumb and index finger.
“Right, that makes sense.” Carl carefully placed his fingers, holding a piece just barely inside of the band as he pulled back, and this time when he let go, the piece pinged off a tree. “Cool.” He smiled widely at the group.
“Awesome. Now we can put rocks in your pockets and you’re good to go.” Irv motioned to the piles of weapons. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, so the plan is to keep as much of this accessible as possible. Out of our packs. So tie it to your belt loop, tuck them in pockets, remember where they are. Practice freeing them quickly for use.”
“And pray we don’t have to use them at all,” Adam muttered. “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t stab anyone.”
Carl dropped the slingshot and picked up an axe, swinging it slowly in the air. “I don’t know. I think if someone was coming at you…” Wrinkling his nose, he put the axe down. “Maybe a knife would be better.” He picked one up and thrust it in the air in front of him. “‘Mm, nope, I’m with Adam. I can’t imagine it slides right in. I mean, you’d have to use some muscle to plow a knife into someone, right?”
“Gross,” Ashar grimaced.
Carl leaned over the coffee, dropping the knife back onto the ground. “Is it ready?”
Irv stirred it one more time and picked up the cap. “We need something to strain it with.”
Adam pulled out a worn t-shirt and tore off a corner, holding it out. “It had holes in it anyway.”
“Dude, you’re the man,” Carl exclaimed, grabbing it and holding it out to Irv. “You got foam in that magic bag of yours too, Irv?”
Irv snorted. “Carl, now you’re just pushing it.” Carefully, he poured the coffee through the t-shirt as Carl and Adam held it tight over the thermos cap, filling it with a couple inches of coffee.
“You first,” Ashar said to Irv, since it had been his surprise.
Irv shook his head, replacing the pan on the fire. “Carl can barely contain himself.”
He held the cup out to Carl who took it and sipped carefully, closing his eyes and humming with pleasure. “I miss this taste. This smell.” He sipped again, smiling around the rim of the cup. “Even without foam.”
Ashar downed the remaining water in his thermos and held the empty container out to Irv.
“Thanks.” Irv slowly poured the rest of the coffee through the shirt while Ashar and Adam held it over the thermos. He offered it to Adam when he was finished, who took it eagerly.
Coffee had never been Ashar’s favorite drink. The doctors hadn’t recommended it, and his mother had always been in charge of his diet. She’d provided only healthy foods, to keep his immune system functioning well for the constant procedures. “Doesn’t coffee dehydrate you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it.” Carl enthusiastically embraced
the possibility. He looked at ease now, happily dazed, slouched on a tree limb as he enjoyed the brew, sipping loudly.
“Carl, really?” Adam said it irritably, but there wasn’t much emotion behind the words. He was just as engrossed in the drink himself.
“Well, places to be.” Ashar started gathering his things and prepping to go. He didn’t want to deny any of them simple pleasures that they used to take for granted, but he didn’t want to linger and delay when he knew where he was supposed to be going.
Ashar wanted to tell each of them what they meant to him, but he didn’t know how. Kind Adam. Carefree Carl. Adaptable Irv. He’d learned so much from them about friendship. Words of affection had never passed between him and his parents. His father’s mantra had always been to ‘bear it quietly, that’s how you show strength.’ He had taken that lesson to heart.
Irv didn’t let them take too long, allowing a few more minutes before he told Carl and Adam to pack it up. Ashar appreciated not having to be the one to take away their respite.
Once they were back on the trail, Irv sipped at the thermos, quiet as they left their tracks on the snow coating the trail. “Why do ya think all of this is happening, Ash?”
“I don’t think you’ll like my answer, Irv.”
Snow swirled around them, the wind blowing it in soft gusts from the pines to find a new home on the bare hungry stems below.
“Whether I’ll like it or not, I’d still like to hear it.”
The thud of their boots cut through the air. The rich scent of the coffee mingled with the pine. Ashar shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I… well, it’s just a theory, one I’m not sure I fully believe myself, but… I think we are living in the end of days. God is setting up the world for His return.”
The answer was so simple, but wrought with undercurrents of suffering that man had chosen since the fall in the garden. God had given a prophecy that led to the ultimate reward for those that had rejected the call of the flesh to choose the redemption Christ had died to give them.
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