Finding My Faith

by Carly Fall

They all laughed, and Abby asked about their flight, if the groceries she had ordered to the silo were okay, and if there was anything else they needed.

  “We're good, Abby,” Rayner said, anxious to get the meeting started. He was participating in idle chitchat, and it wasn't getting him any closer to heading home to SR44.

  Abby said her goodbyes and Noah turned back to them, his face serious.

  They got down to business. Finally.

  Noah told him that it looked as though there had been six women picked off the streets of Phoenix within the past month that could be attributed to a Colonist. He was basing his numbers on the files that had been provided to him by the Phoenix Police Department. Noah was known as one of the best criminal profilers and private investigators in the country, and often times he traded favors with police departments around the country. He took a look at the files they’d sent him, put his excellent profiling skills to work, and they provided him with information when he asked for it. It was a win-win for all involved.

  “Other women have disappeared, but I'm not seeing a connection that I'm seeing with these six. Photos sent over from the police department show possible—and sometimes definite—traces of Colonist ash where the girls worked and from where they were last seen. They are all in the age range of twenty-five to thirty, all work and live downtown, and all have jobs that put them on the streets of Phoenix at night. We have a couple of waitresses, a bartender, one who works special events at U.S. Airways Center, and the girl that was taken last night was a barista at a local coffee shop who’d worked until closing. The police department sent over some photos of the women. Talin, put the photos of those girls up on the screen.”

  They heard shuffling as the screen went black. One by one the pictures of the women flashed on the screen, Talin giving a little synopsis of each one.

  Rayner watched and listened as the women appeared on the screen.

  “Taylor Naught, age twenty-eight, waitress, last seen three weeks ago after leaving her job at a restaurant downtown. Camille Smith, age twenty-five, last seen two weeks ago taking out the garbage at the upscale bar she worked at..."

  The pictures and the commentary continued. One thing Rayner did notice was that all of them had some shade of red hair either dyed or a dark, deep red. He mentioned it at that point, and they speculated on what it could mean, if anything.

  “It means our guy likes redheads, and that's about it,” Hudson said.

  “Here's the last one,” Noah said.

  The last picture flashed on the screen, and Rayner felt his gut clench and every muscle in his body go taunt. His balled his hands into fists on top of the shiny marble table.

  “Faith Cloudfoot,” Talin's voice said over the speaker. "Age twenty-five. Reported missing this morning by her mother. Last seen last night leaving her job as a barista at...”

  Talin's voice faded away as Rayner stared at the picture. Faith Cloudfoot smiled back at him, her tanned skin and strong facial features taking his breath away. Her brown eyes seemed to bore into his soul, while her red hair swirled around her in waves of fire. She had a beer in her left hand and her arm wrapped around the neck of a girl next to her. She looked happy, healthy, alive.

  How quickly things could change, he thought sadly. That one day a young, vibrant woman who took his breath away could be enjoying her time on Earth, unaware of the dangers lurking beyond almost every corner. And the next day she could be walking the Earth in her spirit form, caught in the ether between one world and the next.

  Rayner put his hands to his head and didn't realize he had said anything until the silence became heavy in the room.

  He looked up. Cohen and Hudson were staring at him, and Faith still beamed at him from the screen. Noah and Talin had gone quiet as well. He felt his gut go tighter, to the point where he thought the remainder of breakfast left in his stomach might evacuate.

  He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  “I saw her today,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off of her.

  “You...saw her?” Cohen asked hesitantly. Rayner knew that Cohen was asking for clarification. Did Rayner see her walking down the street, or did he see her spirit form?

  “Yeah, I fucking saw her.”

  He pushed his chair back and left the War Room.

  He needed a drink.

  As he left, he heard Hudson say, “We'll touch base with you guys later. Thanks for the intel.”

  Rayner reached the bar and heard Cohen and Hudson hot on his tail.

  “You boys joining me?” he asked. He noticed his hands were slightly shaking.

  “Hell yeah. Line 'em up,” Cohen said, never taking his eyes from Rayner.

  Rayner went behind the bar and lined up nine shot glasses, three for each of them. He hoped the other two didn't notice the way his hand was jitterbugging around. He took out the Patron tequila for himself, some scotch for Cohen, and a bourbon for Hudson. He thought that after two hundred and eleven years of living and working together, he damn well better know his fellow Warriors preferred poison.

  After shot number one was complete for everyone, Cohen said, “So tell us what happened, my man.”

  Rayner took a deep breath and told him about the spirit appearing in front of him and how he had ignored her.

  “So you didn't say anything to her,” Hudson clarified.

  Rayner shook his head. “Pretended I didn't see her, didn't acknowledge her at all.”

  Rayner looked up from the bar and was met with the bright yellow gaze of Hudson and the purple eyes of Cohen. He knew his eyes were glowing a fiery red. At nightfall, their SR44 colors illuminated from their eyes. Nightfall already? Where in the hell had the day gone?

  “So what are you going to do?” Cohen asked.

  Rayner slowly shook his head and looked down at the bar made of oak. He looked around the room done in warm earth tones that reminded him of the desert, with its different shades of rustic browns, greens, and reds. He really, really hated getting involved with the spirits. It was more self-preservation than anything. Basically, there was nothing he could do for them unless all the criteria were met: They were near their body, and someone they loved and who loved them back was present. It was difficult telling the spirits that yes, he could see them, and no, he couldn't help them unless they could get all their ducks in a row. Rarely did they know where there bodies were. He didn't understand how someone could lose their body, but whatever. Some of the spirits’ bodies were still barely alive, and others had totally died and the spirits were locked in the ether. He knew that those caught in between the present and the hereafter were usually very, very strong, independent spirits who were dead-set on not going anywhere and rarely took no for an answer. So, once they realized that Rayner could see them, they stuck to him like stink on shit, begging for help he couldn't give. And this devastated him, because even though he was a Warrior, at his core, he was still a peaceful Forest Dweller who wished no ill will on anyone.

  So he did his best to ignore them when he saw them.

  But this was different. Maybe, if he could help Faith find her body, Faith could lead them to their Colonist, bringing him one step closer to going home. He would have to grab his nuts and remain tough though. He highly doubted there was anything he could do for her, but if they could get enough information out of her on what she saw before she left her body, it would give them some clue on where that bastard Colonist was.

  He sighed. Faith was pretty and full of life and didn't deserve to be in the ether. She deserved to be living her life on Earth or passing her days in euphoria on the other side.

  He really, really didn’t want to get involved with a spirit. He didn’t want to try to contact Faith. But if it brought him closer to getting home…

  He tipped back another shot and looked at his friends, his fellow Warriors. “I think I'm going to get drunk tonight, kick both of your asses in some Full Metal Jacket on the X-Box, and then tomorrow I'm going to go find me a pretty ghost that will hope
fully lead us to another Colonist.”

  Chapter 8

  Faith stood on the sidewalk watching the five o'clock crowd hustle and bustle around her and through her. She had a little inner war going on, and she wasn't sure what to do about her predicament.

  When she realized she was literally walking around outside of her body, she had panicked. It seemed like the reasonable thing to do, given the circumstances. She had tried to communicate with a few people today, but with no luck.

  There were a couple of times she thought that maybe someone had felt her or even seen her. There was one woman Faith had been certain she was connecting with—an older woman waiting for a bus. Her gray hair looked like a halo as the sunlight filtered through it, and her heavy body was covered by an old green-and-brown dress. Faith had stood in front if her and yelled, over and over. Can you see me? Please help me! The woman stood still for a moment, her dark eyes wide in horror or shock, then she’d grabbed the cross she wore around her neck and began praying in Spanish.

  Then there was that guy on the corner who she’d sworn had seen her. He had stuck out in the crowd like a dead rat at a dinner table. Among all the suits and skirts, he had towered over everyone, his shoulders the size of a small jet runway. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, black leather boots and coat, and a black t-shirt that had Affliction blazed across the chest in red. His blond hair hung to his chin in one length, and he had two gold hoops in his right ear. He was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn't see his all of his face, but she could tell he was definitely nice on the eyes. He had stood at the corner looking at the street signs and the buildings as if he were lost. As she had moved closer to him, she noticed he became more agitated. When she stopped in front of him and he didn't say or do anything, she kept moving.

  Now she wondered if it was a good thing she couldn't get anyone's attention.

  She was in unchartered territory here. She supposed the first thing she needed to establish was if she was alive or dead. Going by most religions, she wasn't dead because she would be in some form of Heaven or Hell. Even going by some of the Native American beliefs, she might have been reincarnated as some type of animal if she were dead. She was not in Heaven or Hell, nor was she a cat, dog, rabbit, or any other animal. She was standing on Second Street in downtown Phoenix. However, if she held out her hand, she could see right through it. She watched as a man approached her, and she stepped directly in his path. He walked through her, never missing a step. So she wasn't in her corporeal body. If she wasn't dead, if she wasn't in her corporeal body, then she was somewhere in between life and death.

  Man, this sucked.

  She had no idea where her body was. She remembered leaving it, then she was out on the street and people were walking through her and no one was able to see her.

  When she thought about leaving her body, it was like snapshots of a movie that she didn’t want to watch. A dirt floor. Bars, as if she were an animal in a cage. Other women also laying on the dirt floor. A needle. A face. A face that she felt would be forever burned in her mind. But how to get back to that cage, to her body, to that horrible place and terrifying face, she had no idea.

  She thought about the abduction that had taken place on the street. How had it happened so fast that no one had seen it? Or maybe someone had seen it, but chose to ignore it. She didn’t remember seeing anyone on her way home before being kidnapped. She did remember the acrid smell of the drugs she had inhaled, and the quickness of her falling into unconsciousness.

  She looked around. So, people couldn't see her. She didn't know if this was bad or good. Maybe it was good, because if someone could see her, perhaps that meant that they were there to take her to the other side. Heaven or Hell. She was pretty certain she would end up in Heaven. At least she hoped so. However, she absolutely knew for sure she wasn't ready to make that trip. She was only twenty-five, and as far as she was concerned, she had too many things she wanted to do on Earth! Thinking of the parties she would miss, the tight-knit group of friends her and her roommate shared that she wouldn’t see anymore, the traveling she longed to do. She had never been scuba diving, rock climbing, or to New York. And what about her parents? Her dad tended to be over-protective of her, and it drove her crazy, but she had to see them again! She had never been in love, and she wanted that experience. At sometime in the future she wanted kids. No, she wasn’t ready to leave this life yet. She just had too much…living to do.

  But at the same time, she didn't know how to get back to that living, and she knew she needed help to get it figured out.

  No, Faith didn't know quite what was going on, but she knew she wasn't in her body, and she knew she wasn't dead. She was in some kind of in between place that she didn't like. At all. Fear laced through her, and she felt like crying, but steeled her spine. She would not cry. She fingered the bear claw necklace at her throat, praying for the inner strength it symbolized. She would find a way out of this mess.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Rayner went to the place he had first seen her, found a bench across the street, and planted his ass in it. His nerves were vibrating, his heart skipping a beat every now and then. He searched for the proper word for what he was feeling and came up with one: nervous. He was fucking nervous about meeting up with the spirit of Faith.

  Pondering that for a moment, he thought that was pretty messed up. His mission on Earth was to kill very dangerous, very awful criminals. Yet, challenged with the thought of killing the Colonists or meeting the spirit of Faith, the Colonists seemed like a much easier option.

  But he needed to go after a spirit. If she could lead him back to where her body was, they would be one step closer to catching another Colonist and that meant one step closer to him going home.

  He pushed his had through his blond, chin-length hair, popped his sunglasses over his black and gray eyes, crossed his long, strong legs at the ankles, opened the copy of the Arizona Republic, and began his wait. Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was about the exact time that he had seen her yesterday. He hoped she was on some type of schedule or was a creature of habit because he didn't do well sitting for long periods of time. And if he was in movement, he knew his nerves would calm. Sitting here, they would only get worse. Besides, he was sitting on a cement bench, and if he planted it for too long his ass would most likely go numb.

  He decided he would wait exactly a half hour, then get up and take a stroll around the block. Maybe head the way she had gone yesterday and see if he ran into her. Besides, staying still for a half hour was about all he could take, numb ass or not.

  He read the Sports section. The Diamondbacks were doing well this season, but their pitcher was having problems with his shoulder. The Marlins, however, weren't doing so good. That made him smile. He wasn't a big Marlin fan. Too bad it wasn't football season. The Cardinals had a sweet stadium that he had seen when they landed at the Glendale Airport. He would have liked to go check out a game while they were here.

  He checked his watch. Twenty minutes had passed, and he peeked over the top of the paper and scanned the street for her.

  Turning the page to the World News section, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. She shimmered to existence about three feet from him, her back to him, and began to walk the opposite way. He put down the paper and took a deep breath.

  I see you, Faith. He didn't say the words out loud, but instead projected them at her. Stopping in her tracks, he watched as she turned slowly, carefully looking at the people around her until her eyes settled on his. When their eyes met, he felt like he had been hit in the solar plexus with a two-by-four. Jesus, she was incredibly beautiful. He was certain that she was like no woman he had ever seen. He wondered how in the world a woman with Native American skin and features could have such fiery red hair. He had only seen hair like that on women with skin so pale it was almost translucent. He broke eye contact when some guy in a suit walked right through her. Literally.

  “You can see me?” she asked, givi
ng the guy who had just busted through her a dirty look.

  “Yup.”

  "How do you know my name?"

  He took a second to think about an answer, and then she did something he had never encountered with a spirit.

  She turned around and ran.

  Rayner sat stunned for a moment, and then he was up after her, his heavy boots pounding on the pavement, his newspaper forgotten on the bench. He couldn't imagine what he looked like to all the skirts and suits making their way to work. He wasn't chasing anyone, and he wasn't being chased. Just some nutjob hauling ass down the sidewalk.

  Faith had an edge—she didn't need to dodge things like people and cars; she just ghosted through them.

  She ran for three blocks, then took a right up 1st Avenue. He kept projecting his thoughts to her, a mantra that started to get on his nerves. I'm not going to hurt you, Faith. I'm here to help.

  She looked back at him as she ran, then finally stopped. He caught up to her and approached her carefully, breathing heavily. The girl could run. Her eyes were closed as if she were concentrating.

  Faith? he projected.

  Her eyes flew open and she took a step back. “Please don't hurt me,” she begged desperately. “Please let me stay. I'm not dead!” He watched as panic flooded her face. And damn, he was confused. What the hell was she talking about?

  I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to help. And I'm not taking you anywhere.

  She looked around as if she were getting ready to bolt again.

  “Please don't run, Faith. I'm fucking tired.” He didn't bother with projecting his thoughts, and spoke the words out loud. Putting his hands on his hips, he inhaled deeply. He saw a person across the street eyeing him with disdain. Yep, just some crazy asshole talking to himself on the street. Nothing to see. Move it along, now.

  Normally a three-block run would have been a warm-up, but he had followed through with his plan last night—gotten drunk and played XBox until the wee hours of the morning. Hungover he was not, but tired, yes.