An Angel of Light

The van rattled like a toolbox thrown down a dry creek bed.

Mesquite scraped both sides in long metallic shrieks as I wrestled the four-wheel-drive service van along a ranch trail that had never been intended for speed.

The headlights bounced over ruts, broken stone, and patches of hard Texas earth while everyone behind me tried not to die from either gunfire or my driving.

“Little smoother on the turns there, Dale Earnhardt,” Gene muttered from somewhere in the back.

“Shut up.”

“You know, statistically, most accidents happen—”

“Gene.”

“Okay. Okay.”

The trail curved around a steep bank.

I jerked the wheel.

Everyone slid sideways.

Kristy Lee slammed into Gene.

Bodhi caught Rachel before she toppled into the aisle.

Sasha’s claws scraped across the floor.

“Graceful, Dan,” Kristy Lee groaned.

“Hail Mary.”

Nobody laughed.

We climbed out of the wash and crossed an open stretch of pasture. In the distance, orange light pulsed against the horizon.

My ranch.

My home.

Nathan.

I didn’t know what had exploded.

Didn’t know whether Mama’s house was burning.

Didn’t know whether the man who’d broken a vow to save us was alive or dead.

All I knew was that I’d left him behind.

The thought sat in my chest like a stone.

We passed through a narrow break in the western fence and hit a farm-to-market road hard enough to send gravel flying behind us.

For the first time since the helicopters arrived, there were no bullets.

No searchlights.

No explosions.

Only darkness and five people breathing like they’d escaped Hell by accident.

And one dog who still seemed to have better instincts than the rest of us combined.

I kept driving.

“Which way?” I asked.

Rachel sat behind me.

“North.”

“North where?”

“Just keep going.”

“That isn’t a destination.”

“It will be.”

I looked at her in the mirror.

She met my eyes calmly.

Every instinct I possessed told me to stop the van and make her answer.

Instead, I drove.

The road carried us through open country beneath a moonless sky. We avoided the highway whenever possible, moving along county roads and forgotten two-lanes until Texas gave way to the Oklahoma Panhandle.

No one followed.

At least no one we could see.

After an hour, the adrenaline began leaving our bodies.

That was when the pain arrived.

Bodhi’s ankle had swollen after he twisted it crossing the yard. Blood darkened both of Gene’s forearms where flying glass and mesquite had cut him. My shirtsleeve was soaked from a gash I hadn’t noticed until Kristy Lee pointed it out.

Rachel remained untouched.

Of course she did.

A small town appeared ahead, little more than a collection of low buildings and tired streetlights. Near the edge sat a darkened medical clinic wedged between a laundromat and a tax office.

FAMILY URGENT CARE glowed weakly above the entrance.

Half the letters were burned out.

Gene leaned between the seats.

“That looks promising.”

“It’s closed.”

“I didn’t say it looked legal.”

I pulled behind the clinic near a rusted dumpster and killed the lights.

Silence settled around us.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Gene sighed.

“Well, time to commit more felonies.”

Kristy Lee caught the back of his borrowed sweatpants before he reached the door.

“No.”

Gene looked offended.

“No?”

“No breaking into the clinic.”

“But I already had a plan.”

“You had a screwdriver.”

“It’s a versatile tool.”

She dragged the duffel bag toward her and unzipped it.

Beneath the ammunition sat a military trauma kit.

I stared at it.

“When did that get in there?”

“When we grabbed the weapons,” she said. “Some of us plan beyond the shooting.”

Gene pointed toward her proudly.

“That’s my girl.”

Kristy Lee looked at him.

Gene’s confidence faltered.

“I mean that in a respectful and empowering way.”

She opened the kit.

The rear of the van became a field hospital beneath one dim cargo light.

Bodhi sat on the floor while Kristy Lee wrapped his ankle. Gene leaned against a metal storage shelf as she cleaned the cuts along his arms.

Sasha positioned herself beside Bodhi.

Rachel crouched near him.

The moment she moved closer, Sasha raised her head.

Not growling.

Not yet.

Watching.

I sat on the edge of a built-in workbench while Kristy Lee cut my shirtsleeve away.

A piece of glass had opened the outside of my upper arm.

“You’re going to need stitches,” she said.

“How many?”

“Enough that you shouldn’t watch.”

“I’ve had knees reconstructed.”

“Then you’re smart enough not to watch.”

I watched anyway.

She irrigated the wound, numbed the skin, and threaded the needle with steady hands.

“You’re good at that.”

“Thank you.”

“How does a radio DJ learn to stitch someone inside a service van?”

“The same organization that taught me how to treat battlefield trauma.”

“The Army?”

She nodded.

Gene answered from across the van.

“She was into everything.”

Kristy Lee never looked up.

“Except you.”

Gene clutched his chest.

“Pain. Completely unnecessary pain.”

Kristy Lee smiled as she pulled the first stitch tight.

“After a while, I wanted something low-profile,” she explained. “Something peaceful. Sitting alone in a booth talking into a microphone sounded nice.”

Gene pointed toward himself.

“Then this one started hassling her.”

“You’re this one?” I asked.

“I contain multitudes.”

Kristy Lee tied off another stitch.

I glanced between them.

“How long have you two been together?”

Gene frowned.

“Together?”

“Don’t spook him,” Kristy Lee said. “He hasn’t even told me he loves me yet.”

The van went silent.

Even Sasha turned her head.

Gene blinked rapidly.

“I thought it was implied.”

Kristy Lee stopped working.

“Implied.”

“I gave up my motorcycle for you.”

“Oh, my knight in shining armor.”

“I loved that motorcycle.”

“I’m sure it appreciated hearing the words.”

Everyone looked at Gene.

He looked around the van like we had betrayed him personally.

His ears turned red.

“This feels aggressive.”

Nobody helped him.

He pointed at each of us.

“You people are vultures.”

Kristy Lee waited.

Gene opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then shoved the rear door open.

“I’ll be outside keeping watch.”

A moment later, something metal crashed near the dumpster.

Kristy Lee called after him.

“You all right?”

“I kicked something!”

“Did it help?”

“No!”

Laughter filled the van.

Real laughter.

Exhausted laughter.

The kind that only comes after surviving something terrible and realizing, for one brief moment, that you are still alive enough to be ridiculous.

Even I laughed.

Kristy Lee finished taping gauze over my arm.

“There.”

I flexed carefully.

It hurt.

But less.

“I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

I pulled out my wallet and removed my black card.

“This,” I announced, “is what I know how to do.”

Kristy Lee took the card from my hand.

For one hopeful second, I thought she was impressed.

Then she shoved it back into my wallet.

“And this is how everyone hunting us learns exactly where we stopped.”

I stared at her.

“I hate being a fugitive.”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“I’ve had one day of practice.”

“You’re still carrying your real wallet.”

“It’s Italian leather.”

“That’ll comfort you in prison.”

Bodhi laughed.

I pulled out the cash I had left and handed it to him.

“There’s a truck stop a mile back. Get food, water, prepaid phones, and anything else we can carry.”

Gene leaned into the open rear door.

“Funyons.”

Bodhi looked at him.

“What?”

“Get Funyons.”

“We’re being hunted by a cult.”

“Then get two bags.”

Rachel stood beside Bodhi.

“I’ll go with him.”

Sasha rose immediately.

Bodhi patted her head.

“Stay here, girl.”

Sasha looked from him to Rachel.

She didn’t sit.

Bodhi pointed toward the van floor.

“Stay.”

Reluctantly, she obeyed.

Rachel smiled at her.

Sasha’s upper lip twitched.

Only slightly.

Rachel turned away.

I watched her and Bodhi disappear around the side of the clinic.

Kristy Lee followed my gaze.

“You okay?”

No.

Not remotely.

Mama was dead.

Marcus was dead.

Jeb was dead.

Nathan was somewhere behind us, possibly surrounded by armed men.

My home might be burning.

And I was hiding behind an urgent-care clinic with a former soldier, a children’s author, a smartass criminal, a suspicious dog, and something wearing a missing woman’s face.

“Living the dream.”

Kristy Lee nodded.

Like she understood more than I realized.

Maybe she did.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled behind the truck stop.

The convenience store glowed beneath fluorescent lights while moths battered themselves senseless against the windows. Two tractor-trailers idled near the diesel pumps. A tired family loaded children into a minivan. An older man smoked beside the entrance.

I kept the damaged side of our van facing away from the store.

Bodhi and Rachel crossed the parking lot carrying grocery bags.

Gene leaned through the side door.

“Please tell me you got Funyons.”

Bodhi climbed inside.

“We got trail mix.”

Gene looked personally offended.

“Trail mix is what squirrels eat.”

Rachel handed him another bag.

“Protein bars.”

“Did somebody die and appoint you people nutritionists?”

Bodhi passed back a gallon of milk.

Gene looked at the label.

“White milk?”

“Milk comes white,” Bodhi said.

“Chocolate milk exists because God loves us.”

Rachel took the jug from Bodhi.

“Here.”

Her fingers brushed across the plastic.

The fluorescent light above us flickered.

Then dimmed.

Inside the jug, brown color spread through the milk like ink suspended in water.

The swirling continued until the entire gallon had turned chocolate.

The light overhead went dark.

Gene stared at the jug in reverent silence.

Rachel handed it to him.

He took it with both hands.

“Okay,” he whispered. “That’s useful.”

The light above us buzzed back to life.

I looked from it to Rachel.

The warmth from the plane returned to my memory.

So did John’s warning.

Warmth is not always holy.

“That’s it?” I asked. “Party tricks?”

Rachel regarded me for a long moment.

Then she stepped out of the van.

“Rachel,” Bodhi said.

She continued walking.

We followed her around the side of the building.

Whether by choice or because she wanted us to, I couldn’t tell.

Rachel stopped near the edge of the parking lot.

She looked around.

At the truckers.

At the family near the minivan.

At the clerk behind the counter.

At the old man smoking near the entrance.

She wasn’t checking for danger.

She was counting witnesses.

Sasha came to stand beside Bodhi.

Her body remained tense.

Rachel lifted her eyes toward the sky.

The night above us stretched black and empty.

No stars.

No moon.

Nothing.

She raised one hand.

The world changed.

Green light unfolded across the darkness.

Then blue.

Purple.

Silver.

Color swept through the heavens in vast ribbons, rolling from one horizon toward the other like a paintbrush dragged across creation.

Every person in the parking lot stopped moving.

The clerk pressed both hands against the store window.

A trucker climbed slowly from his cab.

A little girl beside the minivan pointed upward.

“Mommy.”

Stars appeared behind the ribbons.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Too bright.

Too close.

They pulsed as if the night itself had developed a heartbeat.

Then they began to descend.

Not falling.

Drifting.

Cascades of rainbow light poured down around us like Heaven had opened above the High Plains.

I forgot to breathe.

The colors reached through me.

Past skin.

Past bone.

Into something hidden.

Something wounded.

Warmth flooded my body so quickly my knees weakened.

Gene moved his lips in prayer.

Kristy Lee stared upward with tears running down her face.

Bodhi reached for Rachel.

All around the parking lot, people leaned toward the light as if plants reaching for the sun.

Everyone except Sasha.

She wasn’t watching the sky.

She was watching Rachel.

The dog’s hackles rose one vertebra at a time.

A low growl rolled from her chest.

I barely heard it.

Because someone took my hand.

I felt fingers slide between mine.

Small.

Strong.

Familiar.

I knew that hand.

Mama.

Every part of me knew it was Mama.

The lavender scent of her bedroom filled my lungs.

For one impossible moment, I was eight years old again, sitting beside her on the porch after another kid asked why I didn’t have a father.

Han and Dan Callahan don’t need no man.

I tightened my fingers around hers.

The hand squeezed back.

And I wanted to stay there forever.

Near the store entrance, the old man dropped his cigarette.

His knees buckled.

He hit the pavement clutching his chest.

The colors above us brightened.

His face went gray.

Sasha barked.

The sound ripped through the vision.

The sky went black.

Not gradually.

Instantly.

Mama’s hand vanished from mine.

I stood with my arm stretched into empty air.

The clerk ran from the store.

“Call 911!”

The little girl started crying.

One of the truckers dropped beside the man and began chest compressions.

Rachel staggered.

Bodhi caught her before she fell.

For the first time since I’d met her, she looked tired.

Actually tired.

Her skin had gone pale. Her breathing came fast.

But the old man on the pavement looked worse.

Much worse.

Energy had filled every person in that parking lot.

It had come from somewhere.

I looked at the man receiving chest compressions.

Then at Rachel.

She met my eyes.

Something passed between us.

Not confession.

Recognition.

Then she leaned heavily into Bodhi and allowed weakness to replace whatever I might have seen.

“My girl has skills,” Bodhi whispered.

Gene blinked several times.

“If that was a party trick, I better get invited to the next party.”

He pulled Kristy Lee against him.

She laughed shakily into his chest.

Bodhi never looked away from Rachel.

Wonder remained in his expression.

But something else lived beneath it now.

Pain.

“Why didn’t you do that before?”

Rachel looked confused.

“What?”

“When you were gone.”

His voice cracked.

“Sasha and I looked everywhere for you.”

Sasha moved closer at the sound of her name.

Bodhi swallowed.

“You used to come to me at night. Sometimes you were beautiful. Sometimes you were terrifying. I didn’t know if it was really you or if I was losing my mind.”

Rachel stepped toward him.

Sasha moved between them.

A warning growl vibrated through her body.

“Sasha,” Bodhi whispered.

The dog didn’t move.

Rachel looked down at her.

For one second, her exhaustion disappeared.

Her expression went cold.

Then Bodhi touched her arm and the weakness returned.

“We searched everywhere,” he said. “I searched everywhere.”

His voice broke.

“I missed you.”

Rachel stepped around Sasha and pulled him into her arms.

Bodhi folded against her like something inside him had finally given out.

She cradled the back of his head.

“Shh.”

Sasha paced beside them, whining now.

Rachel looked over Bodhi’s shoulder at the dog.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.

I wasn’t certain which one of them she meant.

Bodhi shook against her.

“I’ll explain everything once this is over,” Rachel promised.

A siren wailed in the distance.

Then another.

The trucker continued chest compressions while the clerk stood in the road waving both arms.

Red lights appeared beyond the gas station.

An ambulance.

Behind it came a county patrol vehicle.

The deputy slowed as he entered the parking lot.

His attention moved from the crowd—

to the man on the pavement—

to the damaged van parked beyond the pumps.

“We need to go,” Kristy Lee said.

Nobody argued.

Bags were thrown inside.

Doors slammed.

I climbed toward the driver’s seat.

Rachel caught my arm.

“I’ll drive.”

“I can drive.”

“You don’t know where we’re going.”

“Neither does anyone else.”

“I do.”

I looked at her hand resting against my arm.

“You’ll never find the entrance in the dark,” she said.

Every instinct I possessed screamed at me not to give her control.

But my palm still felt warm.

I looked down at it.

Minutes earlier, I would’ve sworn Mama had been holding my hand.

Now I looked at Rachel.

She watched me knowingly.

Had it been Mama?

God?

Grief?

Or had Rachel reached into the worst pain of my life and given it a familiar shape?

“Trust me,” she said.

Trust.

The deputy turned his cruiser toward us.

I should have pulled away from Rachel.

I should have taken the wheel.

I should have demanded a destination before moving another inch.

Instead, I looked once more at the empty sky.

Minutes earlier, it had burned with every color imaginable.

Now it looked silent.

Ordinary.

As if none of it had happened.

“Trust,” I whispered.

Then I handed Rachel the keys.