Embers

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  Ronnie’s vision suddenly clouded, darkness sweeping his thoughts away just as the people became blurs again, speeding towards him. The touch of the thick fur on his skin should have filled him with terror, but it didn’t.

  The last thing that Ronnie saw before the blackness was complete, were Sawyer’s dark, sad eyes.

  And in that final moment, his soul thanked God for them.

  2 Peter 2:4

  For God did not spare the angels who sinned, but cast them down to hell and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved for judgment.

  Ember ~ One

  My parents died in a fiery crash. I was in the car with them when the driver of an oil rig lost control and jack-knifed on the highway into our lane. I was fully conscious when our car crumpled into the side of the giant shiny cylinder, and the ripping of steel had vibrated in my ears when we instantly exploded. I had seen Mom and Dad burning in the flames.

  Even now, years later, the acidic smell of the melting metal and rubber will occasionally jolt my memories, making me feel sick to my stomach.

  At this point, you’re probably wondering why I’m not dead.

  Highway patrolmen, first responders, reporters from every news outlet imaginable—and their grandmothers—have asked me the same question.

  When it was all said and done, I had a couple weeks more than my fifteen minutes of fame before the paparazzi finally left Oleander, the tiny southern Ohio town that I used to call home.

  That was about the time when it all really began, or ended, however you choose to look at it.

  I have something important to tell you and I can pretty much guarantee that you won’t like it. But soon enough you’ll find out for yourself anyway. If it were me, I’d want to know.

  The end of the world is coming. There, I said it.

  And I’m not talking about a thousand or even a hundred years from now.

  It’s going to happen soon, as in only a few years at most, kind of soon.

  You think I’m crazy, right? Yeah, I would think the same if I were in your shoes. But don’t close this book just yet. Please, hear me out first.

  How did I get the news flash that life-as-we-know-it was about to go up in a puff of smoke? An angel told me.

  Okay, he didn’t actually tell me directly. He told a priest who filled me in.

  It happened at my parent’s burial. I had wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I was still in shock, and really too bitter at the time for any tears. After all, there wasn’t any need for a fake burial, there wasn’t anything left of Mom and Dad to put in the ground. There weren’t even ashes. Their flesh and bones had turned to hot air in seconds. No long term rotting in a coffin or powdered dust to be tossed into the wind for them.

  My brother, Timmy, had wanted a place to visit them, but how could you visit someone who wasn’t even there?

  That’s what I had asked the priest. He’d appeared out of nowhere and motioned for me to join him under the thick branches of an ancient maple tree after the crowd had dispersed. I had felt very strange when I approached the old man, dressed completely in black, except for a small square patch of white on his collar. There was a dream-like quality to the rainy scene that still haunts me to this day.

  I can vividly remember watching the drops fall from the priest’s hat, one by one, while he spoke to me.

  “When their bodies became nothing, their souls were released,” Father Palano answered. His voice was soft, yet strong and his eyes were a bright blue that looked much younger than the wrinkled skin around them.

  “So Mom and Dad are floating around in the air?”

  For a moment, his brow scrunched. He was either incredibly irritated or in some kind of pain. The look made me shiver.

  “You’re not a believer?”

  “In what, heaven?” I scoffed.

  The Father sighed, gazing off into the drizzle for a few seconds before speaking again.

  “You’re very angry, child. But you must lose those feelings. It’s not your fault they’re dead.”

  I gulped, swallowing the knot that formed in my throat. This black cloaked stranger, with his bushy white eyebrows, had just hit the nail on the head.

  How did he know?

  “Father, do you believe in miracles?”

  Quickly he replied, “Of course.”

  “And, you think that miracles are holy…something from God?”

  He bent his head thoughtfully and frowned. I got him.

  Taking a deep breath, he chose his words carefully. “A miracle is a wondrous event. It doesn’t necessarily have to be good in nature or sanctioned by God. A miracle can grow into something evil.”

  “Everyone thinks it’s a miracle from God that I walked away from a fire that was hot enough to melt steel…but I don’t think it was God who saved me,” I whispered.

  Father Palano said, “Have faith that God was with you.” He shuddered and went on, “Last night I was visited by someone. I knew it for what it was immediately, even though it’s the first time I was gifted with such an event.” He paused staring at me intensely for a few seconds before taking a measured breath. “I was told to come to you, to give you a message.”

  “From who?”

  “An angel.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I replied rudely.

  Now I’m really in trouble. Even the priest is insane.

  His body shook a little with a chuckle and then he quickly sobered. “I’ve waited my entire seventy-four years for such a meeting, but now, when I think back on it and the vision becomes less distinct, I wonder if perhaps I dreamed it all.”

  “Then why come here and bother me about it? You probably read my story in the paper or saw it on TV. Maybe a late night snack turned into a hallucination,” I chided. I felt a little bad about being mean to an old religious man, but I couldn’t stop myself. The anger he’d told me to lose was growing by the second.

  Shaking his head, he said, “Wonder wasn’t the right word to use. Hope—I had hoped it was just a dream.”

  Confused and growing nervous at the direction the conversation had taken, I asked, “Why? What did this angel say to you?”

  His eyes became suspiciously shiny and my stomach suddenly clenched.

  “The end of times, the rapture, Armageddon, whatever you want to call it, approaches.”

  The thought that the priest was completely mad was still an option, but my own nightmares and crazy thoughts since the accident weren’t that far off from what he was saying. What were the chances that we were both crazy?

  “What does this have to do with me?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Eae told me many fantastical things about the world, quite unbelievable, actually.”

  “Eae?” I interrupted. “The angel had a name?”

  Nodding, he said, “Why yes. He’s a warrior, a soldier against the demons that plague the earth.” Seeing my wide eyes, he smiled awkwardly and continued, “Creatures that the Bible speaks of, and that I’d imagined figuratively are very real, and they walk among us. The mating of God’s sons and man’s daughters in the beginning of time created all manner of half humans, some good and most evil. They’ve been here forever and we never even realized it.”

  What he was saying both mesmerized me and chilled me to the bone at the same time.

  I held my breath at his unblinking stare, and when he reached out to touch my face with his finger, I stepped back.

  “Looking at you now, I never would have guessed. You look just like us.”

  “Us? I am one of us,” I said sharply, turning away. “You’re nuts.”

  The vague impression of a soft light glowing around the priest, and his awestruck voice didn’t put me at ease. Fear pumped madly through my veins.

  “Wait…the message. You must hear this,” he begged.

  I stopped, hesitating for a moment.

  “Trust Fate, she is on your side.” There was silence and I was about to leave when he I heard him take a deep breath. He add
ed, “You are not alone. There are others like you.”

  “What does that even mean?” I finally turned around.

  Father Palano shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I’m sorry, Child.”

  The craziness of the conversation was too much to bear after already enduring Mom and Dad’s funeral. I tried to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach.

  I reluctantly met his gaze once more before I walked away.

  Besides the patter of rain on the leaves, there was no sound, just an eerie silence that kept me holding my breath. I reached the pinkish marble monument for my parents when the Father called after me again.

  “You are good, there is light inside of you. You have a choice.”

  I continued walking, trying to put distance between us quickly. A million random thoughts raced through my mind at once, but I didn’t want to think. All I desperately wanted was for life to return to normal, or at least the way it had been before the accident.

  Was that even possible?

  The rain stopped and a splash of light shot through the clouds warming my face. The golden sunbeam streaming through the dark edges of the clouds suddenly lifted the paralyzing gloominess from my shoulders.

  Instantly, I had a dozen questions

  I stopped and called over my shoulder, “Hey, how can I reach you…?”

  But there was no one there.

  If I hadn’t seen the back of the black sedan for an instant before it disappeared around the bend in the narrow roadway, I would have thought I had completely lost my mind.

  The priest’s proclamation on that day had seriously messed with my mind, but believe it or not, I had other demented stuff going on in my life that I had to deal with at that time, too.

  Like Marshall.

  Who is Marshall, you ask?

  I guess this is as good a place as any to begin my story…and ultimately yours as well.

  It all began a few months after I’d lost my parents in the wreck, at a point in my life when things appeared to be normalizing, at least to everyone else.

  It was a cool, late summer morning, and there were dark, billowing storm clouds on the horizon…

  Dead Sea Scrolls, Song of Sage 4Q510, fragment 1

  "And I, the Instructor, proclaim His glorious splendor so as to frighten and to [terrify] all the spirits of the destroying angels, spirits of the bastards, demons, Lilith, howlers, and [desert dwellers…] and those which fall upon men without warning to lead them astray from a spirit of understanding and to make their heart and their […] desolate during the present dominion

  of wickedness and predetermined time of humiliations for the sons of light, by the guilt of the ages of [those] smitten by iniquity – not for eternal destruction, but for

  an era of humiliation for transgression.”

  Ember ~ Two

  I squeezed Cricket tighter with my legs and leaned into her flying mane, ignoring the wind biting at my cheeks and the gray clouds gathering in the sky. I wasn’t paying attention to the distant tree line or even my horse’s head bobbing in front of me. The scent of rain was thick in the air and static electricity was all around, raising the hair on the back of my neck. The rumbling roar in the sky sounded similar to an approaching train.

  The thunder is what finally woke me from the trance I was in. I twisted in the saddle just as the first heavy drops began falling.

  “Whoa, girl,” I spoke to Cricket, leaning back in the Western saddle and tugging on the reins.

  Settling into the squeaky leather seat, I murmured calming words to my horse. I also stiffened and braced for the arrival of the wall of rain. When it hit, I ducked my head to protect my face from the stinging of a million cold raindrops all at once.

  Even with nature’s onslaught, Cricket continued to toss her head from side to side, still arguing with me about the reduction of speed. But her obstinate nature was the least of my worries.

  The next clap of lightening was way too close. A tingle of electricity rushed

  through my rain soaked body right before the crackling explosion boomed overhead. Cricket swerved away from the air splitting sound. The sudden and hard movement unseated me, and I found myself grasping at the saddle awkwardly as I fought to regain my balance. My attempts were futile and I tumbled forward.

  The ground rushed up to meet me and since I hadn’t bothered with a helmet when I’d left the barn, I silently prayed that my head wouldn’t crack open on impact.

  It was my left arm and hip that hit the freshly cut grass covering the hard ground. I skidded several feet before I finally came to a complete stop.

  I remained absolutely still, keeping my eyes closed and lifting my face to the rain. It wasn’t coming down as hard as before and the cleansing wetness almost felt good. Taking a shaky breath, I tried to picture happier times. With some effort, images of fishing at Lake Weaver with Dad and baking brownies in the kitchen with Mom trickled in and I began to relax. The beating of my heart slowed and my breathing steadied.

  A couple more minutes passed and the rain turned to a reluctant sprinkle. I took a peek and the storm clouds were racing off to the east as quickly as they had arrived. When I finally sat up, the gusting wind had lessened to a stiff breeze and I turned into it to dry my face.

  From past experience, I knew that the wobbly, weak-kneed feeling from falling off a horse would pass soon enough. I focused my attention on wiggling each of my fingers and then my toes in turn. Slowly I flexed my arms and legs until I knew for sure that nothing was broken.

  The warm breath on the back of my neck was Cricket’s way of telling me she was sorry. I scooted around and put my hands on her wet cheeks. She allowed me to stroke her for a moment until she grew bored of it. She snorted, sending a spray of saliva and mucous into my face.

  “Thanks a lot, Cricket,” I grunted, wiping the stickiness away.

  One good thing to come from the fall was that my head was clearer than it had been in weeks. My mind was made up. I would talk to Timmy about Aunt Connie’s boyfriend as soon as possible. If my brother wouldn’t take care of matters, then I would, even if it meant running away.

  Standing on shaky legs, but with a sense of resolve, I tentatively touched the blood on my arm. Feeling no pain at all, I pressed more vigorously, searching for the cut that had made the red smear.

  I poked and prodded my arm for a break in the skin, anything at all that would have leaked blood. The pounding of my heart gained momentum, until it seemed about to break through my ribcage.

  I forced myself to take a calming breath. It made perfect sense that whatever the reason was for me not getting burned up in the fire probably had something to do with the fact that I lacked any cuts to produce the blood on my arm.

  Or, like Father Palano had insinuated, I wasn’t entirely human.

  I mentally slapped myself. Don’t be stupid, Ember.

  Walking slowly towards Cricket, I paused when a wave of nausea rolled through me. I stopped and swallowed. It was probably just a delayed reaction to the fall. When the feeling passed, I continued to my horse with even more determination. The last thing I wanted to do was to throw up. Picking up the reins, I placed my left foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up onto her back.

  A shrill whistle from the hedgerow made me twist in the saddle. There was only one person who was capable of making such a sharp sound—Piper.

  When she emerged from the bushes, a smile took up most of her face and she was as soaked as I was, causing me to mirror her grin. Piper squeezed her chubby bay horse into a canter. I waited, twirling a bit of Cricket’s mane between my fingers, grudgingly happy that I wasn’t alone anymore.

  Remembering my arm, I quickly rubbed it to make the blood look similar to a dirt smudge. Since Piper resembled a drowned rat herself, I was gambling that she wouldn’t even notice my arm.

  When she finally reached me, her horse was breathing hard, his sides puffing out in fast succession. Before I had a chance to shor
ten my reins, Cricket whipped around in a snake-like movement and nipped Rhondo’s fat rump.

  Piper glared, reining Rhondo a few feet further away.

  “Darn it, Ember, you should teach that horse some manners. Honestly, I don’t know why I put myself through your adventure rides. The bruise on my thigh from the last time Cricket tried to eat Rhondo, and nabbed me instead, has finally turned back to a normal skin color. I don’t want another one, and neither does my horse. I could be sleeping in bed right now. But no, here I am, completely soaked after dodging lightning bolts to go for a ride with you. ”

  She was rambling, but she was also right, and I wasn’t about to argue with her about it. Quickly I said, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Piper shook her head, but the lift of a smile had returned to her face. We were good again.

  Without discussion, we reined our horses up the field in the direction of our favorite trail. There were no words between us and that suited me just fine. The only sounds disturbing the silence were our saddles squeaking, a few birds chirping, and the breeze rustling the trees. I breathed in the cooler air that the storm had brought, tilting my face toward the rays of sunshine.

  Closing my eyes, I forgot about everything bad in my life for a moment and sighed deeply at the now perfect morning.

  “Are things getting any better?” Piper spoke quietly, yet her voice still cut the air as if it was a knife.

  She was the only person in the world that I might confide in about how I’d just taken a major tumble off my horse, only to pop up feeling perfectly fine. Or that I knew of a priest who was visited by an angel who told him that the end of the world is near. And that I’m something other than us.

  I trusted Piper, but I wasn’t going there. Even she’d think that I was insane.

  My eyes adjusted to the shade when we stepped onto the path under the leafy branches. I still didn’t answer, stalling my friend and wondering what I should or shouldn’t say. After a subtle glance at her round face and the damp black curls on her shoulders, I decided avoidance was the best course of action at the moment. Piper was the one person who made me feel solid again—as if the accident had never happened. She was my connection to the real world and I didn’t want to do anything to mess that up.