Angels Among Us

by C. E. Barrett

  “So ... let's eat. Did you find those cups?” He hadn't even looked for them, to his chagrin, but he did so now and quickly found them. After he poured them drinks and took a Kaiser from Seren, he eyed the meat dubiously.

  “What IS that?” he asked. It appeared to be thin slices of square bologna with little pieces of cheese and white morsels he couldn't begin to guess at.

  She laughed. “It's macaroni meat. My kids love this stuff. It looks disgusting, I know, but it's not THAT bad.” She peeled off a slice. “Here. Try it.”

  The almost horrified expression on his face as he examined it nearly sent her into gales of laughter, but she controlled herself by concentrating on tearing her roll open. She only succeeded in tearing it apart and decided eating the bread and meat separately wouldn't kill her.

  In the meantime, Daffyd had nibbled experimentally at the meat and decided he'd had worse things in his life. They ate and watched people wandering by.

  “You notice everyone seems to be alone? Even when a group goes by, they don't seem to be really together.”

  He nodded and swallowed. “Yes, I have. I also haven't seen a single person who seems to be from ‘here’ and ‘now'. They all appear to be like us—displaced. I wonder....”

  “What?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You wonder ... what?”

  “Oh. I wonder what other times and places everyone is from. What they do for a living, what we have in common, if anything.” He stopped again, considering, then looked directly at her. “Why US, in other words.”

  “Tell you something else to wonder. Why are we the only ones talking to each other? I mean, isn't it natural to seek company, some contact after something like this? Don't survivors of earthquakes and tornadoes talk to each other, help each other out, and turn to each other for comfort? This is just ... weird.” She waved at the silent drifters-by.

  “Perhaps they all think it's a dream. I did, at first.” He sipped thoughtfully at the warm cola and grimaced. “Now, I don't know what to think. The afterlife? I just don't know.”

  “I thought of that, too, but I pretty much ruled it out. I don't think groceries die and go to hell or wherever with you.” She pulled her Kaiser apart even more and nibbled at the pieces. “Hey! Maybe we'll run into Amelia Earhart, or Judge Crater!” She laughed. He puzzled over that. He was familiar with the names; she had been the first woman to fly around the world, and Judge Crater was largely known for his unexplained disappearance. He could see why she'd mention the judge, but why Seren thought Amelia Earhart might be here eluded him.

  “I wonder what the people back home think,” she said softly. “I wonder what it looked like from that end. Any idea how long we've been gone?”

  He looked at his wrist, and shook his head. “My watch stopped when I got here.” He showed her. It said 10:53.

  “Was that morning or night?” she asked, more from idle curiosity than anything.

  “Morning. What time was it for you?”

  “Around five in the afternoon. How long do you think we've been walking? About an hour or so?”

  He nodded again. “That sounds about right.”

  “And we've been sitting here for another fifteen or twenty minutes. My kids must be frantic by now!”

  “How many ‘kids’ do you have, Seren?” He was unfamiliar with the usage of the word, but suspected it referred to her children.

  “Four. Karina's nineteen. I know she can watch out for the others, but she must be worried about me. I know I'm worried about them.”

  “How old are the others?” He had never heard of one person with that many children, and he was intrigued.

  “Theo and Matt are sixteen, and Meggie is eleven.”

  He nodded his head. “Do they not have another parent to look after them?”

  Seren shook her head; staring at the roll she was demolishing. “No. Terry was killed in a car crash a long time ago. It's just been the five of us ever since.” She shook off impending sadness and looked at her companion.

  “How about you, Daffyd? You have any children? Anyone special worrying about you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Well, my family—my father, my sister and her daughter and granddaughter. That would be about it for me.” He brushed breadcrumbs from his vest. “And now, shall we be going?”

  “Sure. Just let me repack and clean up here,” she suited her actions to the words and in a few moments they were back on the road.

  The afternoon sun was warm, the breeze soft and gentle but lacking somehow. Generally, country air always seemed fresher, more alive, with the aromas of hayfields and wild flowers or the ranker odor of newly fertilized fields. But this was curiously devoid of smell. Even when the breeze flowed down across the evergreens on the hillside above them there was no tantalizing tang of pine or spruce. Just bland currents like those wafting out of ceiling vents in an office building. It wasn't unpleasant but neither was it the invigorating stuff Seren expected from country air.

  As they walked along, Seren surreptitiously studied her new companion more closely. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, bordering on arrogance that suggested to her whatever it was he did for a living, he was good at it and knew it. It also said that he didn't need to hear about it from others; that his own opinion of himself was enough.

  His three-piece suit and his overcoat appeared to be of high quality, expensive, but he hadn't hesitated to throw down the coat for a seat, or to care much if the suit got wrinkled from his sitting on the ground so casually. She inferred from this that he was at least moderately wealthy, since he could afford to treat good clothes somewhat cavalierly. Overall, he seemed quite distinguished, the silver streaks in his beard adding to this impression. He seemed solid and reliable somehow, Seren thought, and trustworthy.

  She laughed inwardly at herself. She'd only known the fellow for a few hours, and she already had him sorted and filed. She decided he was probably a banker or a lawyer, something along those lines. She wondered what he made of her, or if he'd even given her more than a cursory thought.

  They started seeing others who seemed to have joined company, most often in pairs, sometimes a group of three would walk by, talking quietly among themselves. From time to time they would nod to each other, these small groups, but no one, Seren and Daffyd included, was inclined to stop and make a larger group.

  The building in the distance began to take form. They could clearly make out the huge shade trees surrounding what appeared to be a farmhouse. They were still too far away to see if anyone was in the yard. It stood on the hilltop overlooking the plain below. Here the land had widened considerably. The road was still following the contour of the upper hillside. It made a sharp turn to the left at the house, and went on to meander away to unguessable destinations. For reasons they didn't understand, no one else was approaching the house. Surely, it only made sense to knock at the door, ask for help, but it seemed they were the only two so inclined.

  A driveway led from the road around the far side of the house, under the tall trees, which cast cool shadows over the house and yard. A tire swing hung from a branch of a tree to the left of the drive, the bare patch of dirt below it testifying to its popularity with someone. A tricycle lay on its side nearby, speckled with rust and a heavy coat of dust. It seemed somehow forlorn and pathetic as if it had been suddenly abandoned. A porch swing hung motionless on the wide verandah. Beside it, an open window allowed lace curtains to sample the view. Seren shivered suddenly, perhaps affected by the drop in temperature as they moved into the shade.

  “This is creepy,” she said, looking at the tricycle, the flapping curtains. He nodded his agreement but continued down the driveway around the side of the house. The side yard was almost gloomy in the shade cast by the trees and the house itself. It was quite a bit cooler here. Seren followed Daffyd closely.

  “I really, REALLY don't like this,” she said quietly.

  “I can't say I'm very keen, either,” he replied. “But we
need to know where we are, and the people who live here should be able to tell us something.”

  “Personally, I don't think anyone lives here, anymore,” she said. “Didn't you see the dirt on the trike ... and that curtain flapping out the window? Who's going to let their best curtains flap out the window? NOBODY, that's who.” She cut herself short, realizing she was starting to babble, something she often did when nervous or distressed.

  “Let's just find out, all right? Even if there's no one here, perhaps we can find a vidphone, or something ... a newspaper, anything that might help. Stay here, if you like. I'll be back soon.”

  “No, thanks. I'm coming with you.”

  They stepped up into a dark back porch. Daffyd knocked at the inner door. There was no answer and no sound from inside. He knocked again with the same result. He tried the doorknob. The door swung open into the house.

  Seren peered past Daffyd's shoulder. A large country kitchen opened up before them. The remains of a meal sat on the table. On the right, a hand pump looked quaintly out of time on the counter beside a big double sink. A full load of dirty dishes sat in one side. A loaf of bread was turning quietly green in its wrapper, and other food items were scattered around.

  Straight ahead, a doorway led to what appeared to be the formal dining room, the kind used for special occasions. A layer of dust covered everything, most notable on the polished oak dining table. Even here in the kitchen the food mouldering on the plates was covered with dust.

  Daffyd stepped into the kitchen, Seren close behind him. Seeing him open his mouth as if to call out to the house's inhabitants, Seren took his arm and shook her head.

  “Don't,” she pleaded.

  He looked into her eyes for a moment, studied what he saw there and acquiesced.

  “I'm going to explore the house,” he said. “Are you coming with me?”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I'll just poke around here. Maybe there's something we can use, one way or another. You go right ahead.” She couldn't explain to him that she was afraid they might encounter the former homeowners mouldering in their beds, like the food on the table. The whole place gave her the willies but she preferred to keep the feeling to a minimum. Right now, staying put seemed the best way to accomplish that.

  Daffyd went into the dining room while Seren surveyed the kitchen. To the left of the door they had come in was another door that led to a pantry. This door was half-open and she could see the shelves and counters along one wall. She made a mental note to check it out later.

  She turned back to examine the rest of the kitchen. A window over the sink looked out on the sideyard. The old-fashioned hand pump was on the right side of the sink, and a small jug stood nearby, presumably used to prime the pump when necessary.

  A large wood cookstove was farther up the outer wall, its flue pipe leading to a brick chimney. It had a good size water-heating tank on one end, and was very solid looking. She could remember her gramma cooking on a stove like that. However, over the middle of the table hung an electric light fixture. She saw the wall plate near the door to the dining room. It gave her something more to wonder about. As if today needed more weird, she thought.

  The table looked as if it could comfortably hold ten or twelve people, with benches lining both sides. Heavy chairs with ornately carved arms stood at each end. Places were set for five. One set of dishes was obviously for a young child, with smaller utensils and colorful pictures on the sides of the cup and bowl. Seren didn't care to examine whatever the meal had been too closely. The fur and fuzz of green and yellow, even blue, mold kept her at bay.

  Footsteps overhead startled her before she realized Daffyd must have gone upstairs by now. She hoped Daffyd had gone upstairs. With a quick glance at the ceiling, she resumed her examination of the kitchen.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER 3

  “All right, Mr. Gaudet,” said Constable Sylvie Muise of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Just tell me what you saw.”

  “Well, now,” began the older gentleman. “I was just driving in to go to the store and, uh, I saw Seren, Mrs. Baker, that is. Well, I wove to her, you know, and she kind of just nodded back. Her hands was pretty full with grocery bags, you know. Well, Ma'am, I just parked my truck, when I saw her fall pretty hard. I thought, well, maybe she skun herself pretty bad, or maybe even hit her head. So I run over, but she just wasn't there.” His pleasant, earnest face showed concern for the missing woman. There was nothing to indicate he had been drinking, or was lying. Muise finished writing and sighed.

  “Did anyone else see anything?” The tired Mountie asked.

  A young man put up his hand. “I did, Constable. Like, I was walking right towards her, eh? And she was going towards that car? And it was like, y'know, like, she tripped and POOF, she was just gone. It was like, weird, eh?”

  Constable Muise rubbed her temples. This was the fifth person to tell her that Seren Baker had popped into nothingness. It had started with a frantic phone call from a Foodland employee who had hysterically reported an abduction in the parking lot. Ms. Baker's children had been notified, and Constable Muise was doing her best to put the pieces of this puzzle together. She really didn't relish the idea of having to tell the Baker children that their mother had sidestepped into the Twilight Zone. She wished she'd called in sick this morning.

  * * * *

  “I told you our equipment didn't malfunction!” Proto-Leader Gerri Reznik said in exasperation.

  “I'm sorry I didn't believe you, but REALLY! What else could I think? I mean, look at this!” The little man waved a dramatic hand to indicate the waving fields of grass.

  “I just want to point out that we've never made a trans-space jump WITHOUT OUR SHIP!!” She shouted down at him, her fists planted firmly on her hips.

  “No, but we DO have teleporters. I thought we'd just popped down to the holo-arena on Base 36-Delta.” He looked at the people straggling through the grass, and continued, “I have NO idea where we are.”

  “Well, my dear Rapsim, neither do I.” They looked around for a few moments.

  “Any suggestions on a course of action, Proto-Leader Reznik?”

  The young woman shrugged and shook her head wearily. “I don't even know where to start,” she said. “I haven't got a clue where we are, how we got here, or how to get home. What's the multi say?”

  She watched him fiddling with a small device he had removed from his belt. He frowned, shook it and fiddled some more. Then he looked up at her.

  “We seem to be nowhere, and nowhen,” he stated simply. She stared.

  “How do you go NOWHEN?” she asked.

  He made a complicated gesture that meant, “I haven't the faintest, but we did it anyway.”

  She interpreted this correctly and sighed.

  “That's great. Just peachy keen. Neato-Guido,” she said, and brushed her bangs off her forehead with a weary hand. “We're nowhere, nowhen, with no way back and no one knows where we are or how to reach us. I'm not going to ask what else can go wrong. I don't want to know.”

  Rapsim was still studying his device. “I might be able to send a signal,” he said. “But we need a power source. This isn't enough by itself.” He waved the hand-held unit.

  Gerry Reznik looked around. “Well, Rap, it's not likely to fall on us here. Let's get going.”

  They climbed to the road, turned left and started walking.

  * * * *

  Mykal's aura shimmered in confusion and dismay. He had intended to transport only the male Dral, not the female Human as well. This would certainly count against his grade, but perhaps it would work out for the best. Sometimes, seeming errors turned out to be serendipitous happenings. He would wait and see. Restoring her now to the place of origin would only serve to confuse the Dral, and he might not perform as needed. He checked the rest of his project. The first two had just made contact with each other; only one more remained. He found the Earth he wanted, and pinpoint
ed the last element. He waited for a propitious moment to transport it to his work area.

  * * * *

  Blagdur scratched himself idly and yawned in boredom. Graz lifted his head suddenly, his eyes narrowing. He poked a talon into his companion, who grunted in response.

  “Wha'?” Blagdur muttered.

  “Feel that?” Graz said. He grinned suddenly, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. “They're at it again.” He chuckled then, a hideous sound. Blagdur flared his nostrils and twitched his ears. His laughter was no more pleasant than the other's.

  “So they are!” He bounded to his feet, the tiny distortions in the multiverse tickling his awareness. Finally, something to play with. “I think we should take a peek around, don't you?” he said, beginning to focus his attention on the alternate space where their opponents performed their experiments.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER 4

  Daffyd felt odd prowling around the house. He wasn't a man given to wandering around other people's homes. He valued his privacy, for a variety of reasons, and preferred to respect the privacy of others. However, desperate situations call for desperate measures.

  The dining room was neat although dusty. It had the look and feel of long disuse. Windows to his right and in front of him looked out on the driveway and front yard respectively. To the left, an open door led to the front hallway.

  From the hallway, he went straight across and paused in the door to the living room or parlor, where the lace curtain waved out the window. From this vantage point, he surveyed the room. In an armchair near the window was a square of some kind of handiwork he couldn't identify. A trail of yarn led to a large wicker basket beside the chair. On a small table near the chair sat an exquisite teacup. Everything had the layer of dust he had already come to expect.

  The general appearance of the room was early to mid 20th century, he guessed, with electric lamps, but no three-D set or computer anywhere apparent. An upright piano stood against a wall, sheet music waiting for someone to bring life to its song. A long, deep couch loomed behind a coffee table. There was another door, securely closed, in the back wall.