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Antioch
By Andrew Joshua Talon
The sirens were audible even over the rushing wind whipping through his hair. He did not have time to waste.
The loud brrr of his accelerator made itself clear as he cut onto a sidewalk, frightened people scattering as he pushed on, red and blue flashes of light reflected in the glass he roared by. He switched gears, pushing the motorcycle past 50 miles per hour, as he finally got through the crowd and darted onto another street. The green trees and metal fences bordering the road alerted him to the fact that he was close to a park. He made out a sign saying “65th” street that he turned on, powering through numerous beeping and honking cars in the midday traffic of central Manhattan.
Eric turned fast, intending to cut onto the cobblestone sidewalk and duck into the park. He looked forward, noted the quickly scattering crowds…
A lone little girl stood in his path, small to his eyes even as he approached. He swerved, tried to avoid her, felt his hand reach for the brake. The girl’s eyes filled his view at an angle as the bike fell to its side, carrying it’s rider forward to an undeniable, unchangeable meeting…
McNeal’s eyes widened as the girl vanished from his sight. A shuddering impact met him and threw his head back, a loud crack echoed…
The sounds of sirens filled his ears as he looked up from his staring at a patch of grass. He blinked, looking around. He held his burnt-orange colored hand up for inspection, turning it over to mentally assess every line, every scar.
It was intact. He ran his hands up and down his torso, a frown that was nearly always present on his face growing deeper.
“The hell…?” McNeal took in his surroundings. He was in Central Park, this he knew. The eloquently-named The Lake stood in his view, shimmering a bit in the afternoon sun. Grass, stomped nearly flat from frequent visitors, was under his feet. Trees dotted the greenery as the imposing buildings and high-rises defined the limits of this spot of man-made nature sitting in the metropolis. Eric ran his tongue over his teeth, keeping his mouth shut as per his habit.
“Why is everything so…?” Everything seemed muted. He ran his hand over the trunk of a tree. Its texture seemed flat, almost artificial. He rapped his knuckles against the bark, feeling that it did have mass but…
“What the hell…?” The sirens continued, and Eric made his way towards them. He came across a few gathered people, all seemingly speaking and talking but the sounds…
“Hey! Hey! Hello? Yo! Anyone!” He blinked, as the indecipherable muttering continued. No one looked his way. He spotted the lights of an ambulance over the heads of the gawkers, even as they began to part, police motioning them away. Eric gritted his teeth and began to move away.
“Hello.” Eric stopped short, and turned around. The little girl from before was standing behind him, allowing the older man to get a good look at her.
She was white, probably no more than eight years old, with blonde hair tied up in two little pigtails. She wore a blue skirt under a pink parka, and held her black loafer-clad feet pressed tightly together, like Dorothy preparing to tap her ruby slippers together and go home.
“Eh?” Eric asked, blinking. He scowled. “The hell? You made me crash my bike! What the fuck were you-! Hey… Wait…?” He blinked awkwardly, and fidgeted as the little girl continued to stare at him.
“I’m sorry… I should have been looking where I was going,” she said quietly, large blue eyes blinking innocently. Eric fidgeted again.
“Your bike is over there,” she added, pointing back towards the crowd of gawkers that were slowly being dispersed. Giving the girl a curt snort, he walked over, pushing through the crowd. Odd, why didn’t it seem to take any effort…?
Ah. There she was. Damn, already being looked at by the cops. A couple of uniforms like the ones who had raided his house this morning. He sighed, looking at the mangled state of what was once his pride and joy.
“Damnit, now I’ll have to find another one…” That meant talking to Fats. The old shark was not going to be happy to find out that the stash was gone too…
“Fuck… Hit someone…” He muttered, watching a black body bag being carried away to an ambulance by paramedics. Eric worked his jaw, and decided to slip away before any of the cops caught sight of him…
“That’s not something to worry about at the moment.” Eric turned around, for a moment thinking it was that girl again, but no. His jaw dropped a little.
“Oh, sorry. I hope I didn’t startle you?” The tall woman asked, clear green eyes looking over librarian-style spectacles. Eric gulped a bit, taking in her statuesque form. She was dressed all in white, a long coat that seemed designer-style under a white turtleneck that showed off her sizeable bust. A modest white skirt that ended just below her ankles waved slightly in the mild breeze. Her hair was done up in a curly bob, and was stark white, but she couldn’t have been older than thirty years…
“Don’t bother, no one can see me, or you for that matter, but you,” the woman went on, her voice light and cultured, with a slight English accent. Eric gawked openly.
“What the fuck are you saying, bitch?” The woman sighed.
“Are all young people nowadays this vulgar? Oh wait, of course they are,” she smiled, as though sharing an in-joke. Eric growled.
“Just… Just what the hell is going on around here? And what do you mean, nobody can see me? Or you?” His finger jabbed at the little blonde girl now staring at him, leaning against a tree. “And the fuck is up with that girl?”
The woman sighed.
“I’ll never get used to this job,” she mumbled, before speaking in a louder tone: “You seem like the type to appreciate someone getting to the point, right? Then here’s the point: You’re dead.”
Eric blinked uncomprehendingly. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull-“
“Damnit, why the bloody hell do they always assume it’s a trick? I ask you, honestly,” the woman interrupted with another sigh. Eric grit his teeth.
“Look you bitch, what the fuck do you mean I’m dead! I’m not dead! I’m right here ain’t I?”
“Technically, yes. And you’re also over there,” the woman pointed back at the ambulance. It’s doors had closed and it was driving off, it’s sirens off, as the police finished herding the crowd away from his crashed bike. Eric blinked.
“I… What?”
“Look. You. Are. Dead. Think about it. The world seems out of focus? Like you’re seeing it through dirty glasses?” The woman pressed. She walked closer, and McNeal finally noticed the white-leather scabbard at her side, an ornate sword hilt sticking out of it and swinging slightly in time with her steps.
“Your bike slammed you into that rocky wall enclosing the park,” she pointed out, indicating the crushed stone and scattered pieces of glass lying around. “You got your skull smashed against the pavement. And you woke up in sight of the Lake, with everything seemingly unreal, and unable to determine what anyone was saying. Am I right so far?” McNeal nodded numbly, walking towards the remains of his bike that various cops and a few public workers were now going over. His throat constricted at the sight of dark, crimson stains decorating the shambled remains and pavement. He gulped, working his jaw again.
“I… That was… Then…?” He looked back, his jaw hanging open. The woman gave him a pitying look, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Who is… That girl?” He asked, pointing at said child, watching with curious eyes. The woman sighed.
“Her name is Ashley. She’s dead too… Has been for a few months. She’s been wandering around since then, but it’s only until now that she became aware that, well…” The woman shrugged. Eric gulped.
“And… You…?” The woman smiled slightly.
“Virginia Dare… I’m a psychopomp.”
“A what?”
“Or, in layman’s terms,” Virginia went on, “an angel of death.”
Eric blinked, stepping back once from the woman in white, and sucked in a breath.
“… Pr-Prove it,” he murmured. Dare blinked, and shrugged.
”Why not…” She replied quietly. She drew her sword, which seemed to glow as if surrounded by a haze of fireflies, and she held it before her. Her green eyes glowed with it, and Eric felt a breeze begin to blow against his face. Dare’s jacket flared out around her, and the young man realized that the wind was emanating entirely from her.
“There,” she said, her jacket falling with the breeze, one eyebrow raised above a steely expression. “That enough for you?”
Wings, Eric thought, feeling detached from reality in a gap that had opened when he’d crashed, and now seemed to widen into the distance. She’s got… Wings…
White, sleek, feathered wings were spread out from Dare’s back, rising just above the tails of her jacket. A few pure, snow-white feathers fluttered from them, one landing against his face. Eric didn’t notice, and the feather continued on it’s way, sliding over his cheek and drifting behind him. Dare blushed mildly.
“Honestly, they’re not that impressive,” she stated simply. “You can stop staring now!”
Eric gulped, and yanked his consciousness back to more pressing matters. “Er, right…”
“Anyway, I was supposed to come here and take Ashley here to Heaven with me,” the angel stated, jerking a thumb at the girl who was staring in awe similar to what McNeal felt. “But, I can probably kill two birds with one stone and there won’t be a problem.”
“W-W-Wait! Wait a damn minute! Heaven?” Eric asked, gawking. His mind… It felt like it was an egg just about to be smashed under the weight of a brick. “Heaven? For me?”
“Would you rather wander around here for a couple decades? Or until a demon gets it’s hands on you? Or perhaps go to-“ Dare looked down, eyebrows raised significantly, and Eric waved his hands about.
“No no no! I’m good! Heaven! Sure! No problem!” Dare nodded, and turned to Ashley.
“Don’t worry Ashley… Your grandma and grandpa have been very anxious to see you.” The blonde girl nodded, a touch of sadness entering her bright eyes.
“My mommy… Is she going to be okay?” Dare nodded, smiling like the sun.
“Don’t worry… She’ll be just fine,” the angel soothed, and swung her sword in the air. Eric blinked, as where once sat a little blonde girl in pigtails now a few white feathers were scattered by a stray wind.
“… That’s it?” The man asked, incredulous. Virginia rolled her eyes.
”If you want, you can get the special version,” spoke a dark, menacing voice behind him. Eric gulped, and turned around… Before screaming at a very, very high pitch.
“Did you really have to frighten the piss out of him?”
The tall, dark-skinned man seemed like a living shadow, his black jacket, jeans, and undershirt with a silver skull adding to the affect. The twin, storm-cloud colored wings emerging from his back and smoke-colored sword only added to the intimidating affect. He grunted, rubbing his free hand irritably over his scruffy beard.
“Damn punk deserved one last scare before heading to paradise,” the man snorted. Virginia shook her head, smiling slightly.
“You do look the part more than me.”
“Bah. Least you didn’t freak out the kid,” he grunted, wiping black ooze from his blade off on a dark cloth. Dare smirked.
“I assume the demon gave you no trouble?” The man smirked back.
“Like some scum like that could give me a real fight.” Dare sighed, shaking her head once more.
“Antioch, have you ever considered… A vacation?” The black-clad angel of Death raised an eyebrow.
“To where?” Dare turned away, grimacing slightly.
“Good point… Let’s go home, then.”
With that, both angels vanished, leaving no trace of their visit. Between the worlds of the living and the dead, between Earth, Heaven, and Hell, their work goes on.
Thus ends chapter one of my story concept, “Antioch.” I’m going to be playing around with this universe for a while, so be on the look out for more stories in the near future!
Talon