Angel, Page 50

Page 50

 

  Willow shook her head, looking dazed. “Yeah, you probably were. When I was five, I was still trying to color inside the lines. ” She leaned against the counter beside him, taking in the empty room. Alex saw that her hair had slipped slightly from its knot, resting on her neck in a loose coil. Against his will, he found himself remembering the softness of it, the silkiness of its long strands as he’d stroked his hands through them the night before.

  “And your father started this place?” asked Willow, looking up at him.

  Glad for the distraction, Alex pushed himself away from the counter. “Yeah. Come on, I’ll show you the bunkhouse. ” The sunlight dazzled the white buildings as they went back outside, nova-bright. “My dad worked for the CIA,” he said as they walked through the burning heat. “I guess he specialized in some pretty strange stuff — before he joined the CIA, he spent a few years in Asia, learning about human energy fields, how to work with them. ”

  Their shadows moved ahead of them on the concrete. Walking silently at his side, Willow glanced up at him as she listened.

  “He traveled a lot when I was little,” Alex went on. “Then when I was five, his assignment changed or something, and he was home a lot more. And . . . that’s when he first found out about angels. ”

  They had come to the bunkhouse. The metal door was partly open; Alex pushed it with the flat of his hand and stepped inside. It was relatively cool in here, with shadows painting the walls. The metal bunk beds were still in place, though the mattresses and bedding were gone. “Here’s where I used to sleep,” he said, going over to the second bunk on the right. “My brother, Jake, always took the top bunk, and I got the bottom. ”

  Willow went still. “Your brother?”

  Alex nodded, recalling a hundred fights: “Jake, you jerk-off, you just stepped on my face. ” “Hey, you like my smelly feet, don’t you, bro? Here, you want ’em again?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Two years older than me. ”

  Willow came to stand beside him. She touched his arm. “Alex, I’m . . . really sorry. ”

  She already knew about Jake. Alex’s muscles tightened, and he kept his eyes on the bunk as images of the Los Angeles canyon flashed past like a deck of shuffled cards. Finally he said, “Do you know the details?”

  Willow shook her head. “No. I didn’t see it when I read you. I just sort of guessed. I meant to tell you I was sorry before, but — well, I didn’t like you very much then. ” She gave a small smile.

  He felt himself relax a fraction. Thank God; having her sympathy for how Jake had died would be like torture. “I don’t blame you,” he said after a pause. “I wouldn’t have liked me very much, either, if I were you. ” Glancing down at her, he managed a wry grin.

  Their eyes locked and held. Willow’s hand felt warm on his arm, slightly damp from the heat. All thoughts of Jake faded. Alex felt his pulse suddenly beat faster as he looked down at her upturned face. The moment froze, neither of them moving. All at once Willow seemed to realize how close she was standing, and she dropped her hand and stepped back, looking flustered.

  Alex cleared his throat, his thoughts tumbling. “Thanks,” he said. “About Jake, I mean. It was a while ago, what happened, but . . . thanks. ”

  Willow’s cheeks were pink. “You were telling me about your father, and how he first realized about the angels. ” She sat on the metal frame of the bottom bunk, leaning against the support post. Alex sat on the other end, careful to keep a few feet between them.

  “Yeah. ” Suddenly he didn’t feel like dwelling on this. His voice turned curt, impersonal. “See, my mom had been acting really distracted, leaving the house at all hours, that kind of thing. So my dad got suspicious. He thought she was having an affair or something. So one day he followed her when she said she was going running and found her in the middle of the path, just sort of standing there, smiling up at the sky. ”

  “Oh, no,” whispered Willow.

  “He tried shaking her, slapping her — nothing. Finally, because of all the energy work he’d done, I guess he sensed something strange, and he moved his consciousness up through his chakras. And he saw the angel right there, feeding off her. ”

  There was utter silence around them.

  “The angel was pretty startled when it realized it had been seen by someone it wasn’t feeding from. It turned on my dad and he managed to fight it, using his own energy. That’s not something we do anymore; it’s too dangerous. But meanwhile my mom was screaming and crying, telling Dad to stop, that he didn’t understand. She got in between them, and the angel just . . . ripped her life energy away, all at once. ”

  Willow’s green eyes were large. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

  “The angel took off, and my mom had a massive stroke. She went into a coma and died the next day. ” Unbidden, another memory came: himself and Jake, standing at the side of their mother’s hospital bed with their father behind them, gripping their shoulders. Alex remembered feeling more confused than sad, not understanding why she wouldn’t get up.

  “Oh, Alex,” breathed Willow. “I am so sorry. ”

  He gave a brusque shrug. “Anyway, the CIA probably thought Dad was crazy when he started talking about angels killing people, but he’d been with them a long time, so they gave him some funding and let him do what he wanted. Nobody took it seriously, though, back then. Except for the AKs. ”

  “And . . . then the Invasion happened,” said Willow.

  Alex nodded. He had one arm looped around the support post, and he rubbed its warm metal with his thumb. “Yeah. And suddenly the CIA was a lot more interested in whatever it was that Dad had been doing out here all these years. They took over the whole operation, like I told you. And I guess they improved it in a lot of ways. We got better weapons, better cars. And decent salaries for a change. ”

  Willow looked as if she knew how much he missed the old days, when the AKs had all worked together. “Where’s your father now?” she asked. “Is he still an AK?”

  “He’s dead, too,” said Alex. “He died about five months before the Invasion. ” He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twisting. “Hey, aren’t you glad that you asked about all of this? It’s such a cheerful topic. ”

  Willow shook her head mutely, looking stricken. “Alex, I . . . ”

  “Come on, this is depressing,” said Alex. He stood up. “So, you want to see my English textbook?”

  She hesitated, trying to smile. “You had an English textbook? I thought you didn’t do normal subjects. ”

  “Yeah, let’s see if it’s still here. ” Alex went over to a metal bookshelf that stood against one wall. He squatted and scanned the rusty shelves. “Yeah, look. Here you go. ” He held up an old Sears catalog.

  Her smile became genuine. “You’re kidding!” She laughed.

  “Nope. ” Alex flipped through it. “This was English, math . . . there’s even a map in the back, so we got some geography. Plus the lingerie section was pretty cool. The only girls Jake and I ever saw were always wearing combat gear. ” Standing up again, he tossed the catalog back onto the shelf.