The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy

by Sandy Nathan

  “Longer than that,” Lena said to Sam. “Do you know that I had one of these dogs? It’s a Lhasa Apso. Henry bought him for me when the girls grew up and left. Shaq, I called him. After Shaquille O’Neill, the most beautiful man in history. Except for you, Henry,” she called after him. He was heading toward the ship, if that’s what the blob of light could be called.

  “Shaq loved Eliana like nobody’s business. Do you know what he did?” She looked into Sam’s eyes. “He knew a boy in the school was going to hurt her. He couldn’t get there in time to stop it, so he threw himself under a bus. He gave his life—so he could be a spirit, Sam. So he could be the lion he was born to be, strong and fast and brave. He killed himself so he could be there fast enough to help Ellie and be big enough to save her.

  “And he did, Sam. The boy was going to rape her, Ellie told me. And my Shaq was there and killed him. He was bigger than any animal ever seen, from what little Ellie told me. And he was a ghost.”

  “Lena, we’ve got to go.” Henry was a quarter of the way across the lawn. “They won’t wait for us.”

  “The reason I’m telling you this,” she said, “is that I looked outside last night, and I would have sworn my little Shaq was out there, hanging over about half the forest, guarding us. If you see him, Sam, tell him we’ll be back if we can, and that Ellie and I love him. He’s the best little dog I’ve ever seen. And so brave.

  “Now good-bye, Sam. Take care of Earth. You’ll be in my prayers night and day.” She reached up and hugged him. “I’d better go.”

  Sam watched them walk across the lawn toward the light. It bobbed a little, as though it wanted to be off.

  Eliana got on first. She danced and did cartwheels across the lawn. When she got about halfway, she dropped her dress and began to run. Naked and beautiful, she made enormous leaps, her legs stretched out like she was flying. Something broke loose from the front of her where her heart was. It unfurled like wings and fluttered in the light. She shimmered like an angel in flight.

  When she got to the cliff, she leaped into the light, arms reaching high and wide over her head, shimmering wings flying, light exploding.

  He saw it in that split second she was in the air, silhouetted against the light. Her slim form was translucent against the larger radiance behind her. In her belly, he saw a smaller light as brilliant as a thousand suns.

  She and Jeremy had made a baby.

  Sam choked back a sob. He could see her, moving back in the brilliance. She became one of the people inside.

  Jeremy ran after her, stopping to drop his trousers by her dress. He ran naked into his new life, leaping over the cliff and into the golden void. He did a cannonball, yelling “Geronimo!” when he jumped.

  James and Mel ran together, naked like the others. They held hands, each with a dog tucked under the other arm. They jumped in, kissed each other on the other side, and disappeared into the glow.

  Lena and Henry were slower. He could hear them bickering as they walked.

  “I don’t know about this nudity, Henry. I don’t see why.”

  “Mother, the world is going to blow up in one hour. That’s why. They wanted us naked, and that’s how we’ll go.”

  He could hear them all the way to the edge. They stopped and looked at something. He hadn’t realized there was a space between the cliff and the ship.

  “Henry, that’s got to be five feet. How are we going to get out there?”

  A little lip of light unfolded from the larger mass, providing them with a ramp. They walked across and disappeared, the ramp following them.

  It moved out like the fog receding over the ocean. Sam stood, feet spread, fists clasped together, unable to think or feel.

  He could still see them, disappearing. Mostly, he could see her, with the wings soaring and the light in her belly.

  She was an angel. The others were mythical people like those in the stories. He had been lucky to know them.

  They made him decide. Sam wanted to sit out there on the point and fry, as Jeremy had said. He didn’t want to leave the beauty around him for an underground jail. He couldn’t bear the thought that someone hated the world enough to destroy it.

  But he realized that he couldn’t do that. If he didn’t go back, his people would wait for him. They’d leave the shelter door open and come out and see what he was doing. They’d try to drag him in. They wouldn’t close the door in time. And everyone in the village would die.

  Sam turned toward the forest for one last look at its beauty. Then he would do his duty.

  A movement above the forest caught his eye. He knew about the haunt; he’d seen it in the trees, watching him. It was a hairy dog, just like the ones Mel and James had. He turned toward it, and spoke:

  “Oh, great Shaq, guardian of Eliana and Lena. As you jus’ saw, they took off for somewhere. They said they love you and will be back if they can. They hope you’re OK.

  “I know you like to protect, so if I could ask you a favor, we really need protection. If you could protect this village and all that’s around it? The trees, and birds, the wild animals. My horses, and the cows and sheep. Even the chickens.” A couple of his hound dogs wandered out, looking to and fro. “An’ Flossie and th’ other dogs...

  “I’ll tell you, Mr. Shaq, I’d sooner be up there with you than where I’ll be. I hope that when my life is done, I can join you and protect all this that’s mine. Though it belongs to Mrs. Egerton.

  “Jeremy said he gave this place to me, but he don’t own it, I know that. I’ll just keep it until Mrs. E comes back.”

  Sam stood there, unable to move. He didn’t want to go into the shelter, though probably he should. But he couldn’t maintain control of the village if they saw him weep. And he couldn’t stop.

  51

  Sam watched the golden sphere recede. Once it pulled out, it took off fast. It faded into a speck and then a memory. Sam stood. Though part of him wanted to fall on his knees with awe and reverence.

  The rest of him knew the truth: that wasn’t God. It wasn’t the fire-spewing monster seeking vengeance that the snake men worshipped. It was how people got around somewhere else. Jeremy and the girl and the rest of them were going to be safe.

  He slumped as he watched the last twinkles of the globe disappear. “I would have gone, if they let me,” he whispered.

  Sam Baahuhd of the village, you are meant to stay here and care for your people. I have chosen you to carry out My will.

  It was a real voice, very loud. No snake man bull; this was a real voice. It wasn’t from a yellow ball made to carry people. It was bigger than that. He trembled.

  I have chosen you, Sam Baahuhd, to carry out My will for the Earth from this time forward.

  He couldn’t breathe. The voice was speaking to him and about him. “OK. I’ll do what you want.” Sam was speaking more and more like a regular person, as Jeremy had ordered. God undoubtedly was more regular than anyone. “Could you stay with me, and help me? I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t know that I can.”

  No one has ever done anything like this. I will be with you every moment. I will guard you. I will hear your prayers and answer you.

  The voice was so normal. That’s what Sam liked. The snake men made God sound so big and terrifying. Like a haunt of haunts. But the voice he heard was normal. It was loud, coming from all around him, but mostly inside him.

  Sam, you need to do something right now. Be calm and know that I am with you. Turn toward the road.

  Sam turned. A woman was walking across the meadow toward him, a pistol held in both hands. She never would have gotten that close had he not been distracted.

  “You’re under arrest,” she shouted. “Federal agent Valerie Zanner. You’re under arrest for treason. Put your hands over your head.”

  He didn’t move. She kept moving toward him. He could see that her gait was unsteady. She looked like she’d been in the river all night, filthy and covered with muck. Her face had bruises and cuts all over it.
She wore a short skirt that showed her knobby legs, and a half-buttoned shirt. Her boots were the type made in Jamayuh.

  He held her eyes with his, his shoulders down and relaxed. He relaxed all over, feeling his long, slow breathing. He was in the same state as when handling a dangerous horse or hunting for bear. Relaxed, focused, and ready to move. Ready for anything. Not afraid. She was so close that she’d have to be a terrible shot to miss him. The way she held the gun said she was a very good shot.

  “Is this the Piermont mansion?” she barked.

  “Aye.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Mrs. Egerton?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes flashed. She looked feverish.

  “Nah. She never comes here.”

  “Is Jeremy here? Her son?”

  “He just left.” Sam waved his head in the direction that the golden orb had disappeared. “Did ya see it?”

  “Yes.” She seemed to deflate. “Was that a spaceship?”

  “I don’t know, lass. I don’t know what it was.”

  She looked at him like she was really seeing him for the first time. “Who are you?”

  “Sam Baahuhd of the village. I’m the headman.”

  “You live here?”

  “I live in the stables with my family and the rest.”

  “Of who?” He could see her swaying on her feet; the tracks of dried tears split the dirt on her cheeks. She shivered. Kept that gun pointed at him, though.

  “The people who live on the estate. The village, we call ourselves.”

  “You’re a caretaker?”

  “In a way.”

  “Have you seen any treasonous activity here?”

  “I don’t know what that means, lass.”

  “Plotting to take over the United States?”

  “No. We had a party last night.”

  The wind off the sea picked up. It blew over them, rattling the house. Sam stood strong, but the woman looked like she wanted to fall to the ground. She dropped to a squatting position and cowered, momentarily taking the gun off him. He stood still. She had the pistol back on him as fast as that. She could plug him in an instant.

  Relax, Sam, and you’ll live, he thought. He took a deep, slow breath and willed himself to relax. Everyone was already in the shelter. No one knew what was happening. No one would help him. The wind shook the trees out by the road, making the tall grasses whip and sway.

  When the grass hit her legs, she jumped toward him, raising the gun. Her eyes darted to her right, toward the road behind her. Her mouth was slightly open. He could see her panting. She was terrified.

  She turned to him, wild-eyed as the wind continued to beat against them. “There’s a hant.”

  “Aye. There’s a hant. Guards the village.”

  Her eyes widened. “It ate Josh.” Her eyes flitted to the road like she expected it to attack. She was so panic-stricken that Sam feared she might nail him by accident.

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s a dog. He loved the little girl who was here. Killed himself to help her. He come here with ‘em, to guard her. Now he guards the village.”

  “He was guarding you?”

  “Yeah. They were people from Jamayuh, coming here to break into our shelter. I’m sorry that they died, but they would have made us die, too. The shelter couldn’t hold us all.”

  “You have a shelter?”

  “Yes, lass. Jeremy made us a shelter for the atomics.”

  “He made you a fallout shelter?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all? That’s what he was doing? I thought he was trying to overthrow the government.”

  “No. He wanted us to live. He made the shelter so we could live in it for two thousand years. It’s big.”

  She started to laugh. “That is so funny. That is just so funny.” Her eyes were gushing, but they weren’t tears of joy. She was cracking. He had the first inkling that he might get out of the situation alive. The gun wavered and its barrel dropped toward the ground. She acted like she might fall down.

  But she pulled herself together and leveled the gun again. “Do you know why my office was empty when I went back yesterday?” He shook his head. “They’d evacuated it. They took everyone to shelters somewhere and left me to rot. I talked to the president of the United States yesterday. He said I’d be the bureau chief if I completed this mission. He knew what was coming. He sent me out here to die. When I drove here, past all the big installations that looked like missiles—they are missiles. And they’re going to go off, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, lass. Very soon—”

  “Shut up! You’ll talk when I say you can. I’m not finished.” She kept blinking. “Maybe we’ll both stand here and die.” The wind shook the trees and mansion again. She cowered, terror swamping her bravado.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t talk to you like that. They were right to leave me behind. I’m a bad person.” She was within arm’s reach of him now. He wanted to grab her, but, close to breaking or not, she still held the gun like a pro.

  “They lied to me. There’s a war going on, did you know that?”

  “Yeah. I thought so. Lot’s of burnin’. Smoke in the air. Looked like a war.”

  “I could see it all over when I was driving. Bombed out shopping centers, houses burned. They were trying to cover it up, but they didn’t. And no one travels anymore, do you know that? They say in the city that everything’s fine, but it’s not. There’s nothing outside New York. Oh, God. I’m so stupid.” The pistol’s barrel dropped toward the ground.

  “Lass, I’ll talk to you as long as ye want inside the shelter. But we need to get inside now.” His voice was calm and confident and soothing.

  She looked exhausted. The gun was pointed down. “I’m a bad person. I’ve done terrible things. I thought it was for my country and that made it right, but it doesn’t. You should never do things like that. Everything they said was a lie. I’ve killed people for them! I tortured and killed people for them!”

  He grabbed the gun as it fell and swept her to him with one arm. With the other hand, he put the safety on the pistol and stuck it in his belt. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  She lay against him stiffly. He murmured words from the village in her ear and petted her back. She was a nice little thing, barely reaching his chest. Too thin. He petted her and she reacted the way women did with him, relaxing against him and holding on tight. Most of them didn’t cry like her when they were in his arms, though.

  “I’m a bitch and a murderer and a torturer. I fuck around. I’m nasty. They were right to leave me behind.”

  Sam stroked her hair and whispered, “Lass, the world you knew is comin’ to an end. You can go with it.”

  She pulled back, alarmed.

  “You got a badge or anything that says who you are?”

  “Just this.” She held out her shield, attached to her holster.

  “Come with me.” He held her hand and led her to the cliff. “Whoever you were just died.” He threw the holster and shield into the surf. He thought twice about her gun. That was a nice weapon. But he threw it after the holster. “Now skin off yer clothes.”

  “What?”

  “You want to be all new, don’t you? Get rid of everything that shows you were with them. I won’t let you freeze on the way to the shelter. Leave on the boots. They make good boots at Jamayuh.”

  She did what he wanted, hesitantly. Once she saw him looking at her, she stripped fast, bending over and trying to cover herself up. Her ring flashed, a blue strobe.

  “Do I have to give it up?” she whispered.

  “Where’d ye get it?”

  “I bought it for myself.” She looked so sad saying that.

  “It’s yours, then,” he said. “Come to me lass.” She did. “Good, lassie.” He stroked her hair. She shivered and leaned into him. He smiled at her. She was going to be fine. Sam swung her into his arms and ran for the house.

  They pulled the round door
behind him and screwed it tight and kept going until they were at the deepest level. The people of the village stared when he walked in with a naked stranger in his arms.

  “This here’s Em’ly. Em’ly Baahuhd. Ma wife.” He said it in the thickest village tongue. He didn’t want Emily to catch the change in her marital status until he’d wooed her properly.

  They felt the explosions in the shelter. Most were just thuds that made the lights waver. Some rocked the shelter like the concrete might shatter. Their force made the villagers cling to each other, screaming. Made them give thanks that they were so far below the surface.

  “It weren’t a foot too deep, thankee kindly, Jeremy.”

  “We’ll stay as long as ye want, O Great Tek.”

  About

  THE ANGEL & THE BROWN-EYED BOY

  AND

  TALES FROM EARTH’S END...

  Authors are often asked where they find inspiration for their stories. For Sandy Nathan, The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy was born out of tragedy and a beauty that was otherworldly:

  I had a dream a year or so ago. I dreamed of a beneficent being, a golden creature of love and life. As the dream progressed, that angelic creature was superimposed upon me. And then she became me. The physical pleasure I felt was astonishing. Joy coursed through me. I was totally good, totally alive. Golden light poured from me. I was the Angel.

  The experience carried forward into my day, slowly dissipating until I was my ordinary self. I realized I’d been given a gift. I’d experienced a vision of another world, another way of being. I’d been granted a glimpse of the Angel’s reality.

  In the days that followed, the rest of The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy flowed out, as the characters revealed themselves to me: Jeremy Edgarton, son of a great musician and an infamous beauty, heir to one of the great fortunes of his world. A genius? An outcast? A revolutionary? Then came Jeremy’s friends and the dangerous milieu in which they lived, and the idea of a tortured United States on the verge of disaster.

  What was that world? I asked myself. Not the world we know. Or was it? Was it our world pushed forward in time?