“We cannot miss our flight!” Jack was a stickler for precision and absolutely did not do late. His ability to get his family to where they needed to be an hour before they needed to be there had always been a source of much mirth for his wife and daughter.
Phoebe and her mum lumbered along behind Jack, giggling at his awkward canter, and the family made their check-in with moments to spare. After a short while in the departure lounge, Jack, Eva and Phoebe boarded the Jumbo Jet, which would take them home to Ireland. “Wow!” Jack exhaled loudly as he flopped down in his aeroplane seat, “We’ve made it, we’re actually en route home! I can’t believe it has been ten years!” He smiled contentedly and took his wife’s small hand in his.
“I know, sweetheart,” smiled Eva, “But our work in Jo’burg was done.”
Jack and Eva had moved to Johannesburg ten years previously, bringing five year old Phoebe with them. It had been a big move for the family, and a decision which they had not taken lightly. Jack and Eva, both surgeons, had decided to give their time and skill to be a part of a group from the Medical Miracles organisation, helping to staff and run a local hospital. The Wrens had first met in Africa while volunteering with Medical Miracles back in 1990, when both were on a gap year from university. They had helped with the building of the hospital, and felt a return to work there as qualified doctors was very fitting. They had married in 1993, and were delighted to be able to return to their work at Medical Missions Hospital as husband and wife. The work had been demanding, and at times both Jack and Eva had been discouraged and disillusioned, but their belief in creating a better way of life had seen them through. The Wrens had fallen in love with the African people, and spoke often of how Africa would ‘always have a very special place in their hearts’.
As the family sat now, buckled into the aeroplane seats, each smiled at their inward thoughts of a life lived, and a new one about to begin. Jack was returning to a senior post in Castletown Hospital, while Eva had made the decision to put her career on the back-burner for the time being and spend more time with her beloved Phoebe. That was something which made their time in Jo’burg extra special for Phoebe – it had shown her high-flying parents what was really important, and as a result they had spent lots of quality time together, and had become a closer, stronger family than ever before. Phoebe couldn’t wait to settle back on Ireland’s green shore and begin the rest of their lives on the island they all adored. Africa had beguiled them, but Ireland, with its clean air, rolling green fields and friendly faces, held their hearts. It was home.
“Cabin crew prepare for takeoff.”
The pilot’s voice sounded muffled over the intercom, and Phoebe absent-mindedly checked her seat belt as the plane taxied down the runway. She felt Araco Airlines flight 434 throttle forward, and smiled as she was momentarily pinned back in her seat by the gravitational pull as the plane left the runway and climbed into the sky.
The huge aeroplane ascended steeply until it reached its cruising altitude, then the overhead panel bing-bonged and lit up, announcing that seatbelts could safely be undone, and the Wren family settled back into the long flight. Jack and Eva unclipped their seatbelts, and Jack pulled out his iPad, while Eva got lost in her novel – she loved books, loved the chance to bury her head in her novel of the moment, and Phoebe knew that once they got back to Ireland, her mother’s dreams of penning a book about their time in Africa could finally become a reality. The thought made her smile – her Mum, the published author. Phoebe was so proud of her mother, and loved that Eva gave her an incredible role model to aspire to, without ever making her feel that she had to measure up in any way.
Two hours passed, and Phoebe’s early start caught up with her. She placed her complimentary headphones over her ears, and closed her heavy eyes, enjoying the non-descript but easy-listening jingles, and in no time she had drifted off into a contented sleep with thoughts of Ella and Ireland dancing in her head.
THUD!! What was that? Phoebe jolted upright, suddenly wide awake, with her hand moving involuntarily to check that the seat belt buckled around her waist was still secure. “Mum?” she said, nervousness causing her voice to squeak. “It’s okay, Phoebe. It’s just a little turbulence, that’s all, nothing to…” THUD! BANG!! Eva Wren grabbed her daughter’s right hand, and her husband’s left as the big aeroplane shuddered and heaved.
“Jack?”
Eva’s voice betrayed her, and Phoebe saw that she too looked afraid. Suddenly, the pilot’s voice boomed over the tannoy, clearer this time: “Passengers, please return to your seats immediately! Fasten your seatbelts securely, and adopt the brace position”.
The unanticipated announcement immediately put everyone on edge, and there were audible gasps and the sound of a woman crying as seat belts were clicked shut, and passengers began to lean forward, heads lowered, arms crossed protectively in front of their worried faces. Phoebe glanced sideways past her mother; she could see her father’s face, eyes closed, lips moving in an unspoken conversation with the Atoner. Jack and Eva Wren had a deep faith. It was, they said, the bedrock of their relationship and their family, and ever since she could remember, Phoebe had been taught about the Abba who loved her. She had formed a simple, childlike trust but suddenly Phoebe found herself thrust into frightening and uncharted territory. Never before had she found herself in a situation that her parents couldn’t handle for her, but now, in a floundering aeroplane, Phoebe knew that the only thing she could do was call out to her Abba.
“Please Abba, help us! I don’t know what’s going on, but all I want is for us to get home safely to Ireland. Can You help us? Can You stop the…” Phoebe’s frantic prayer was cut short as the plane gave one final heave before dropping into a rolling, twisting downward spiral.
Unseen by the passengers, seven huge ethereal forms cut through the Earth’s atmosphere, hurtling towards the doomed plane like comets, leaving a trail of light in their wake.
“Solas! Dilis! Make sure that those dark fiends don’t follow us down!” boomed the Captain of the Heavenly Host, Cosain, as he and several other angelic warriors raced to keep pace with the aeroplane and its terrified passengers.
“Yes, Captain!” returned Solas as he and Dilis pulled back sharply and headed for the stratosphere where they assumed battle positions and waited for the demonic onslaught. On this occasion, it did not come, and as the warrior angels turned their gaze towards Earth, they saw debris of the stricken aeroplane strewn far and wide, and black smoke rising in sickening plumes from the charred remains of Araco Airlines flight 434.
“No!” gasped Dilis. “We were too late…”
CHAPTER 4
THURSDAY 15th JULY
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AFRICA AND IRELAND
Phoebe blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. She rubbed her smarting eyes with shaking fingers and scowled at the blurred images of what was happening around her. She was aware of an incredibly bright light – what was that? It couldn’t be the sun. It was too bright, too close. Phoebe raised her arm to shade her eyes and squinted into the strange light.
“What..? Who..? Where am I?” Phoebe heard her own voice ask the questions that nobody seemed to be around to answer.
She was vaguely aware, however, that she was not alone here – wherever here was. Through blurred eyes she could just distinguish the outlines of several figures. People? Fellow passengers? Rescue services? No. These silhouettes were huge, not of human proportions, and they… well, they seemed to glow and pulsate, and somehow Phoebe sensed that the Beings before her were not like her. Phoebe’s senses were dull, and her head felt as if it weighed a thousand tonnes, yet somehow she felt warm and safe, and the paradoxical feelings confused her as she lapsed back into unconsciousness.
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST
IRELAND
“Phoebe!” Phoebe’s reverie was disturbed by the sound of Mrs. Quill calling from downstairs. “Phoebe, I need to take Eva and George into town to buy some school shoes. Do you want to come with us?”
“No worries at all, Love. We’ll see you when we get back. You can get me on my cell phone if you need me.” Mrs. Quill did not sound in the least bit offended, and Phoebe was glad. The back door clicked shut and Phoebe listened until she could hear the Quills’ car rumble away along the gravel driveway and out on to the country road.
Phoebe was so glad to have the house to herself for a while; she was glad of the silence and not feeling that she needed to make polite conversation all the time. The Quills were wonderful and Phoebe loved them all dearly, but for now she just needed time to be alone, to process her scrambled thoughts. So much had happened in the last four weeks, and she was still coming to terms with her ‘new normal’ – whatever that might be. Phoebe had so much to think about, so many decisions that needed to be made – where would she live? Would she stay here with the Quills? Would they become her adopted family? And what about her extended family here in Ireland? Phoebe’s Aunty Kate, her mother’s sister, had visited almost every day since Phoebe got here. She had cried and hugged Phoebe tight, and her resemblance to Eva had somehow comforted Phoebe and reassured her in her darkest moments that someday, somehow, things would get better. Phoebe knew that she would be more than welcome to live with Aunty Kate, Uncle John and their kids, eight year old Abi, five year old Jamie and two year old Caitlin. But for now at least, all she had the ability or desire to focus on was the here and now; all those other decisions would have to wait.
THURSDAY 15th JULY
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AFRICA AND IRELAND
Still dazed and unsure of exactly what had just happened, Phoebe painfully dragged herself up to a sitting position and looked around her, desperate for some clue that would help reveal her whereabouts. She was aware of a searing pain in her left arm and, looking down, could see a fat trickle of blood oozing down her forearm. A quick investigation revealed the source of the bleed to be a gash in her left shoulder. Phoebe winced as she cautiously dabbed the wound, but instinctively knew that despite the pain, it was a relatively minor injury. She staggered to her feet, her head reeling, and propped herself up against a tree until she felt steady enough to move.
Phoebe surveyed the scene around her in stunned disbelief, and the reality hit her like bolt of lightning – there, scattered across the length and breadth of a field were pieces of the aeroplane that she and her parents had boarded just a few hours earlier. The cockpit and nose of the plane were close by, with sections of the fuselage and wings strewn all around. She looked for survivors, listened for a voice or a cry, but found only silence and the grim reality of passengers lying eerily still amidst the chaos. Phoebe began to weep silently, hot terrified tears rolling uninvited down her blackened cheeks. She moved slowly and with a horrified reverence through the wreckage, numb and disbelieving at first, but panic and grief built inside her until the gentle tears became harrowing wails, and she sank back down to her knees in despair. She had no idea where she was. Still in Africa? Holland? The UK? How would anyone know where to find her? Maybe she would die here too, surrounded by the chaos that she was struggling to believe. And where were her parents? Maybe, just maybe, Jack and Eva had survived this catastrophe.
A few feet away stood Cosain, Captain of the Heavenly Host, head bowed, sword sheathed, watching silently as Phoebe broke her heart for a life destroyed by powers beyond her comprehension.
“Cosain, we must do something, we must make our presence felt! This young mortal’s heart cannot bear so great a tragedy!” cried Dilis, his perfect features etched with pain for the broken and devastated young girl he saw before him.
“No Dilis, it is not yet time. The Atoner knows the end from the beginning, and He will not cause Phoebe to suffer one moment longer than she can bear. He will not leave her to her own devices. But we, like she, must trust that He works all things together for her good. The plans for Phoebe’s life far outweigh the happenings of this morning. If she is to fulfil her destiny, then we must wait and trust that the Atoner will make the way apparent.”
Cosain surveyed the horrendous scene one more time, then his golden hued eyes moved to his faithful angelic troop – the six warriors before him were fearless and loyal, fiercely committed to the Atoner and bent on carrying out His commands. They stood majestic and strong, although he could tell that the carnage before them was so difficult for them to bear.
“Take heart, the Atoner is not finished with this Little One yet…”
CHAPTER 5
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST
IRELAND
Phoebe shook her head, perhaps in prolonged disbelief, perhaps in an effort to empty her mind of the ghoulish images she felt sure would haunt her for the rest of her life. How could it have happened? How could such a huge, strong aeroplane have fallen from the sky with so little warning and caused such devastation? Phoebe could barely fathom such a catastrophe, and yet she knew it to be true, because she had lived through it, the sole passenger to walk away from the wreckage on that fateful day. There had been no explanations forthcoming, no reasons given to help her make some sense of it all. No-one seemed able to clarify the events of July 15th in any way, and Phoebe found this almost the most difficult thing to come to terms with. Why had she survived? What was so special about her that her life had been spared when so many others perished? The influx of thoughts and wonderings made Phoebe’s head hurt, and she sighed in exasperation as she had done thousands of times since that fateful day.
“I need some air”, Phoebe thought, glancing out of the window of her bedroom in Thomas and Rose Quill’s home. She was truly grateful to the Quill family for the way in which they had taken her in. As soon as she had been physically able and mentally ready to fly again, she had returned to Ireland, and Ella and her parents had driven to meet Phoebe at the airport. Ella had run to greet her friend, tears of sympathy and disbelief and heartbreak streaming unabated down her face. There had not been much conversation during the drive from the airport back to the Quill’s home, and Phoebe had been so grateful that none had been necessary – there was an easy and instinctive understanding between them, and immediately Phoebe felt like part of the family. The Quills and the Wrens knew each other through their local church, Emmanuel Fellowship in Arles, and had been firm friends from the outset. Phoebe and Ella’s close bond of friendship had served to strengthen the link between the two families, and they had visited each other’s homes often, taking it in turns to cook for each other, or host summer barbecues, when the Irish weather permitted.
Phoebe pulled on a light summer jacket. The August sun was shining, but there was a nip in the Irish air, and she somehow found herself feeling the cold more acutely after ten years of living under the African sun. She went downstairs, out through the back door, and ventured into the sprawling back garden. The Quills seemed to live at one with nature in so many ways; their garden was unobtrusive and fitted in beautifully with the rolling Irish countryside. As she walked, Phoebe was aware of her heart beating, and consciously breathed the clean country air deep into her lungs, wondering if somehow its purity and wholesomeness would act as a balm for her broken heart. She was thankful that she was able to do this, and yet the same thankfulness made her feel guilty as she thought of her parents who never got to drink in the fresh beauty of Ireland, never got to stroll through the wild green meadows, or enjoy a reunion dinner with the Quills. Phoebe’s eyes filled again with familiar tears as she thought of her lovely daddy, Jack. He had been so looking forward to returning to work at Castletown Hospital. And precious Eva – her book would have been a best seller, Phoebe was sure of it.
Phoebe snapped back to reality, and continued to wander somewhat aimlessly out through the wrought iron back gate which lead her from the Quills’ back garden and into green fields. The vibra
nt green of the trees and the crisp blue of the sky was not lost on her, and Phoebe found herself beginning to say thank you… To who? Abba? She had not really given Him much thought during the weeks after the accident, and now a pang of remorse jabbed at her heart. Phoebe recalled the way in which her parents had lived their lives with the Atoner firmly at the centre, and how they had always taught her that in the Atoner, she would find everything she needed, the answers to all her questions.
“What about this, Abba?” Phoebe said out loud to no-one in particular. “Is this last month part of your plan for me? Did you mean to take my parents, or was that a mistake?”
She felt a hot tide of honest anger begin to build in her soul, and could easily have given in to a tirade of tears and accusations, but something caught her eye. Across the gently billowing grassy field, where the hedgerow ran into the forest, Phoebe saw something glimmer. Perhaps it was a tin can or a rogue piece of glass glinting in the autumnal sunshine. She saw the glint again, more pronounced this time, and curiosity got the better of her as she made her way across the field to the source of the light. As she got closer feelings of injustice and anger began to subside, and Phoebe realised that the light was not in fact the reflection of sunshine off metal, but rather seemed to be a curious funnel of light, radiating up from the forest bed, and growing in size and intensity as she approached.
Phoebe slowed her pace, a nervous fear tugging at her heart. She looked around and could see that she was entirely alone in the meadow. “Perhaps I should wait until Mr. Quill gets home, bring him out here to see this…” she wondered, aware that the little nervous knot in her stomach was tightening.
Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light Page 2