Intersections

by Megan Hart

  “Ha! There’ll be nothing left by the time it’s your turn, little man.”

  Lily found herself in a place where a diffused blue light came from everywhere yet nowhere. It created a diaphanous membrane between Lily and the men. Shuffling behind her. She turned and the blue world resembled a wide corridor seemingly stretching on forever. On the right, a white light pulsed behind the membrane. Darkness on the left. The atmosphere gave the impression of being caught between two realities like a holding area or purgatory.

  The source of the shuffling came into focus. Goosebumps rippled across Lily’s skin, pulling her scalp tight and raising hairs on her arms. People crowded around her. Halos of silvery blue light traced their outline. While many of the people—Ghosts, oh my God they’re ghosts—appeared normal, some showed their death. A little girl with her head caved it. A man with stab wounds. Another with bullet holes. A woman with bruises around her neck. Lily shivered.

  “We won’t hurt you, Lily.”

  Not trusting them, she backed up into the membrane. It bulged but didn’t break.

  “What the hell is that thing? A dumpster?”

  Lily had briefly forgotten about the men waiting on the other side.

  “Hell if I know.” In the silence, Lily watched the two look at each other in wordless communication. “Let’s check it out.”

  She shifted her weight and prepared to run.

  “They can’t see you, but you shouldn’t linger. This is no place for the living.”

  “Empty, fuck. I thought we had her for sure.”

  How do I get out of here?

  “Trust me,” an alien voice said.

  In a blink, Lily stood outside the grocery store. The Ouija was back in the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. No sign of the ghosts. No sign of the gang.

  Compared to the silence of what she thought of as Purgatory the noise of explosions and screams were deafening. The dust and smoke choking. Lily pulled a bandana over her nose and picked her way through the rubble toward Mad Molly’s. More than once, she glanced over her shoulder and didn’t relax until she made it home.

  At the sound of laughter, Lily crouched behind a burned-out car. She pulled the Ouija board out. The sun and moon gave her a wink as she laid her palms on them. It wasn’t the first time after the grocery incident she’d used the board to take her to Purgatory. The sense of protection and calm it provided allowed her the freedom to move about and collect supplies. And the spirits left her alone. Yes, they were creepy but less so with every trip.

  Two sets of booted footsteps came closer. Through the blue veil of Purgatory, she spied two men. Both had rifles slung across their backs. Behind her, the spirits hovered and watched over her shoulder.

  “We should find that refugee camp,” the taller man said. “Stop struggling to survive and rest awhile. We can figure out what to do after that.”

  The other scratched his beard. “Might be a good plan. The Thols have taken over most of the grocery stores, and I’m tired of fighting.”

  Lily shivered at the mention of the Thols.

  “The time to go would be now while they have the Demons occupied in the north.”

  The men moved out of earshot but not before Lily caught something about the camp being at the edge of the city. Keeping to Purgatory, Lily headed the way she’d come. Mad Molly’s was home for now, but one day she might need to leave and rejoin humanity. She dreaded the thought. The Ouija and the crystals were all she needed.

  4

  February

  The fire burning across the street cast a dim orange glow over the field across which Lily hiked. Freshly filled water bottles sloshed against the Ouija board that now went everywhere with her.

  Lily jumped over a small fissure. Hot air venting from it turned the grass brown and dirt into dust. A little puff of it wafted around Lily’s foot when it hit the ground. Behind her, a stone rattled on pavement. Her heart jumped, and she ran for the rubble at the middle of the field. If she were able to find a hiding spot, the Ouija would shield her. Another stone skittered but the sounds of running feet didn’t follow.

  “Wait!” a male voice boomed. “We’re friends!”

  She wove around cement blocks that lay scattered around like children’s toys and ran for the towering pile in the center. Her backpack scraped against the sides of the slabs as she slipped through an opening. The space inside allowed her to stand. She saw the legs of student desks protruding from gaps between the stone. She heard feet pounding on the dirt.

  Friends, my ass.

  Lily worked her way to the back of the cavity and crouched.

  “Hey, lady, where’d ya go?” said a girl’s voice. It sounded as if she were right there. “We won’t hurt you.”

  Lily didn’t hear malice in the young voice, only a subtle pleading. The girl stopped in front of the opening and looked up over her shoulder at someone behind her. She appeared about twelve, but the grime streaking her face made it hard to tell.

  “Why won’t she answer?” the girl said.

  “She’s probably scared,” said the man.

  “Why? We’re not mean.”

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  The conversation—so like a daughter and a father’s—convinced Lily to take a gamble. She stood up as the girl started walking again and Lily saw her companion. Orange glowed through the cracks in its blackened skin, wing tips scored furrows in the dust, and a great taloned hand reached out to swallow the girl’s. Lily dropped to the ground.

  “Did you hear that?” the Demon said.

  Terror ate the spit in her mouth. It blasted through her heart. She grappled with the buckles of the messenger bag in an attempt to free the Ouija board. It was the only thing to protect her from the monstrosity and its evil little devil child. The thing probably used the girl as bait. And Lily had almost fallen for it. Angry now, she tore at the clasps. They jingled together.

  “Shhhh,” the Demon said. “Hear that now?”

  Her throat worked as if in a whimper and for once Lily was glad she had no voice.

  “No,” the evil girl child said.

  Finally, the buckles slid free. She pulled the Ouija board out. Crystals tumbled after but didn’t spark into their usual glow. She laid her palms on the sun and the moon. Nothing. No warmth, no radiance, not ever a whisper in her mind.

  Come on, damn you.

  No blue mist. No ghosts.

  “Listen,” the Demon said.

  She pressed her hands harder onto the Ouija. No safety of Purgatory.

  Don’t leave me here now.

  Tears born of fright streaked down her cheeks as she continued to plead with the board. Off to the east came the rattle and slide of concrete tumbling down.

  “Now I do,” the devil child said. “Over there.”

  Lily listened to the pair recede, then broke. Curling into a ball, she let the fear wash over her. She cried and shook until all that remained was anger, a fury at the Ouija board. Why hadn’t the Ouija taken her away? Wasn’t that its purpose? To protect her? Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. The board had given her the sense of safety and protection she’d been accustomed to in the old world. How would she survive without it? Then it dawned on her.

  The Angels’ refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Rumor was they had power, hot water, food, and security. And they didn’t turn away the uninjured. If you were able, you were put to work. She figured she’d shirked people long enough, and besides, they wouldn’t be like the gangs she’d been avoiding. She’d be safe. Decision firmly made, she pushed the Ouija board and crystals to the side and unrolled her sleeping bag.

  She dreamed of ghosts and of having a voice.

  Hungry, dirty, and drained, Lily trudged toward the Angels’ camp in the near distance. Smoke from the fires and dust lent the day an overcast sickly yellow quality. Half a week of hiking left her with blistered feet, tired legs, and shoulders aching from carrying the backpack and messenger bag. No matter h
ow disappointed she was, she couldn’t abandon the Ouija board or the crystals. So into the bag they went but there they stayed. Even when a chance encounter with a group traveling the same direction drove her into hiding, the Ouija never left the satchel. And when the first silvery blue flashes caught the edge of her vision, she ignored them.

  The klieg lights set around the fenced perimeter of the camp sharpened the shadows thrown by the fence, the sparse tall grass, and the two Angels standing at the gate. Taller than she remembered, they stood well over seven feet. The electric blue fire in their eyes brighter too. Arms crossed, they watched her. She felt it. Lily slowed her pace as anxiety built to churn stomach acids.

  Stop it, Lily. They’re the good guys.

  But the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave her. Multicolored light flickered through the stitching of the messenger bag.

  Not now.

  One Angel strode toward her. The crystals grew brighter. Some instinct told her to hide the crystals and Ouija. Quickly, she slid the backpack off and shoved the satchel inside. She hitched the pack shut as the Angel reached her.

  “You must be Lily,” he said. “I’m Raziel.”

  She startled when he spoke her name—how’d he know?—but forgot the question under his gaze. Dark hair flowed to his shoulders and high feminine cheekbones rose beneath long-lashed blue eyes. When he smiled at her, a dimple appeared on a cheek free of stubble.

  Raziel extended a hand, “Let me take that for you.”

  Without hesitation, she handed over the backpack, which he slung over a shoulder. He winced.

  “Ahhh, still a little raw.”

  She frowned.

  Oh, right. The fall burned away his wings.

  “Come along, let’s get you settled.” She followed him toward the camp. “How was the journey? Rough?”

  Lily opened her mouth to answer then remembered she had no voice.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Of course, I can’t answer.

  She shook her head and put her hand on her throat then shook her head again.

  “I’m sorry, Lily, I forgot. Please forgive me.” Lily shrugged to show him it was okay. “We’ll find you a paper and pen so you can talk to us.”

  Raziel put a hand on her lower back and guided her into the camp while the waiting Angel slid the chain-link gate shut then followed.

  “Welcome to Camp Paradise Lost,” Raziel said.

  Lily involuntarily shuddered.

  5

  March

  By now, Lily was used to the miasma of scents around the camp. Near the infirmary came the reek of festering wounds and sting of antiseptic. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, exotic spices, and the fresh scent of clean Angel skin juxtaposed with the stench of cabbage and unwashed bodies. Not long after she arrived, it became apparent the Angels lived in luxury while the refugees lived in squalor. The rumors of hot water and good food were just that. But all able bodies being put to work wasn’t.

  At least it’s safe here.

  Lily armed a band of sweat from her forehead and leaned on her shovel. Barely even spring, and it was hot. The continuous heat blasting from the vents and canyons had warmed the atmosphere. Dirt from the ditch she’d been digging for no obvious reason rose in a mound behind her. Silvery blue-edged specters slip around her, tried to get her attention, but she still ignored them. All they did was remind her of the Ouija board. The messenger bag containing it lay tossed in a corner of the small room she’d been assigned. She avoided thinking about it.

  A smattering of stones hit her feet then a pair of boots thumped down.

  “Hey, Lily-girl,” Antonia said. Lily waved. Antonia passed her a water bottle. “Two sips then back to work. Michael is supervising today.”

  Lily blew air through her lips and rolled her eyes.

  “You got it. Archangels, pains in the ass. All of them.”

  She took her sips and handed the bottle back, then held up a hand indicating Antonia to wait. Instead of the promised paper and pencils, the Angels had given her a whiteboard with a marker attached. She’d made a thong to hang it from her neck. She wrote on it now and showed it to Antonia: Why?

  “Ahhh, one of life’s biggest questions. You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Lily gave her an exasperated look and waved her hands over the ditch. Antonia shrugged. “I don’t know. They never told me.”

  “Antonia, get a move on,” Michael said. “It’s not break time for you yet.”

  Both women looked up at the Archangel glaring down at them. Blue lightning crackled through his brown eyes. The ghosts plucked at his brown hair and one appeared trying to melt into him. Oblivious, Michael stared at Antonia. As hard as the Angels could be, Lily assumed they did it to protect the refugees.

  Idle hands are the devil’s work, as mom used to say.

  “I’m going, calm down,” Antonia said. Then to Lily, “I’ll see you later.”

  Lily nodded as she picked up her shovel in the shadow of the Angel. Once Antonia and Michael were gone, she relaxed her stance and continued to dig.

  If they wanted a hole in the ground, there are plenty of crevices outside the fence.

  The shovel scraped against a rock. It jarred her nerves and brought back the sound of rents splitting the earth to spew forth the Demons. And she had an idea.

  These ditches could be for mass graves.

  She shivered as the sweat on her body went cold. She saw the Angels leading Demon prisoners through the camp and to these pits. Thinking of the one and only encounter with a Demon gave her the shivers. Let alone watch a whole horde troop across the camp. But then, it would mean the Angels had found a way to defeat them.

  Despite her unease, a worm of hope crawled in her belly.

  Somewhere in the camp, someone played a fiddle. The quick-tempo tune found its way into Lily’s room by way of the open window. Under the notes, hands clapped and people laughed. In a world gone wrong, the music, clapping, and laughing were more than welcome. A balm for bruised souls.

  Lily took the dead crystals out of the bag and laid them on the bed. No rhyme or reason to it but, if pressed, maybe for a little comfort. At the sound of the fiddle, they flickered to life and rose to dance around the room. The happy upbeat piece started her toe tapping and soon Lily swayed along then let the music take her. She danced while the crystals swirled around her and the ghosts watched.

  That’s it. Sounds like too much fun to be hanging around here.

  She grabbed the crystals from the air. Neglecting to look at the traitorous Ouija, she stuffed them back into the bag as movement at the window caught the corner of her eye. Expecting to see a silver blue-edged shape, she turned to shoo it away. Nothing moved but her reflection. Lily gazed about the room in search of the ghosts. The room was empty. Shrugging, she grabbed her writing board, made her way down the narrow hallway and into the night.

  The fiddle led her to the open area between the women’s and men’s barracks. A fire pit had been built and crude benches erected around it. Men and women danced in the circle cast by the fire. The wounded and elderly sat on the benches. Children from the family living quarters near the Angels’ played tag around the adults who milled about. Lily hadn’t realized how many refugees there were in the camp.

  Her gut cramped and breath strangled in her throat as the collapse of the world blindsided her. Outside the fence lay chaos. Homes flattened, blown up, or burned down. Loved ones dead or missing. Food scarce and water even more so. Survival meant outsmarting the roving gangs bent on taking everything for themselves in whatever manner possible. Usually with violence. A laughing boy ran into her while he dodged the outstretched hand of another.

  “Sorry,” he said and shot off.

  She smiled to herself. This refugee camp with its fence to keep the unsavory out and its Angels to protect them from the Demons was the new reality. The survivors respected the individual journeys that brought each of them—sometimes near death—to this place of safety. The courage and strength it took to surv
ive in the days after the world ended bonded them and they were becoming close as any family. It gave Lily hope.

  “Lily-girl,” Antonia called.

  Lily looked around and saw Antonia standing alone and waving. She waved back then made her way around the circle.

  “Oooof, look at your poor hands,” Antonia said as she picked them up and turned them over. “Before work tomorrow, go to the infirmary and get them to bandage those blisters so they don’t get worse.”

  Lily gave her a thumbs up.

  “Quite the shindig, huh.”

  Nodding, Lily wrote on her board: Do you do this often?

  “Not as often as we’d like.” In Antonia’s downturned mouth, Lily saw sadness, but then Antonia grinned. “Hey, there’s Jane and Deena. They work in the kitchen. They’re good eggs.” Antonia whistled. “Over here!”

  Jane and Deena sauntered over.

  “New girl?” a woman who looked to be close to Lily’s age yet—with her tattoos and piercings—wildly different. There was a hardness in her stance Lily had only seen in long-time survivors of pain.

  “Jane, this is Lily.” Jane gave her the once over.

  When Deena smiled, crow’s feet crinkled and her round face lit up. “Nice to meet you, Lily. When did you arrive?”

  Lily wrote: Four days ago and passed the board to Deena. Jane peered over her shoulder at the writing.

  “She doesn’t speak but isn’t deaf, obviously,” Antonia said. “And she hasn’t told me why she can’t yet.”

  Deena handed the board back.

  Lily scrawled: She hasn’t asked yet.

  Jane squinted at the words. ”Fuck this,” she said and stormed off.

  Stunned, Lily and Antonia watched her recede, glanced at each other then at Deena.

  “What’s her problem?”

  “She can’t read.” Deena brushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek. “Girl’s had a hard life before all this. I’ll go see to her.”

  Once Deena left, Antonia put a hand on Lily’s arm. “Ignore Jane. She’s a bit rough, but Deena’s been good for her.”