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NECHUM TRIED TO REST on the plane, but his restless ears wandered around without him. He drank in the hypnotizing hum of the turbine engines as they sped across the English Channel, but knowing their destination, Paris, was a mere hour away meant the start of their first actual mission. Rolling his shoulders, Nechum attempted to settle his nerves.
Akela’s feet thudded on nearby suitcases. Stacks of them varied in height like rock pillars in the baggage hold, and the messenger amused himself by hopping from stack to stack. His thumping almost annoyed Nechum. He began wishing he could bring himself to ask Akela if he wouldn’t mind just picking a suitcase and sitting down like everyone else but let him be. “Everyone deals with stress in their own way,” he reasoned.
Nechum’s next recourse was not to think of Akela or their mission, but he only ended up obsessing about his own mission. In an instant, his thoughts careened down that fast track they had been on since yesterday. Five brothers, each harboring a different brokenness, and he had no idea who God wanted him to help. Lord, why are you so cryptic sometimes?
“Attention, please.”
Eran and Laszio shot up from where they sat as Jediah returned with his newly formed plans.
Not wishing to be disrespectful, Nechum rose too and tried to mimic their rigid postures. Akela and Alameth stood tall as well.
“Thank you.” Jediah nodded, giving them permission to sit. He lifted a golden paper, and a grave seriousness shadowed his face. “Remember the stakes, brothers. The Lord has tasked us with this purpose, and if any word spreads about it, we may very well lose our two primary targets. We can’t be seen by anyone. We speak of this to no one.”
Nechum echoed Laszio and Eran’s instant ‘yes, sir’. Jediah’s commander persona seemed such a far-cry from the reserved angel he strolled with the previous night.
Jediah pursed his lips and pushed out a breath through his nose. “I won’t sugarcoat it, brothers. This mission requires all that we have. Our primary target? Yakum of Beijing.”
Cold shot through Nechum. Laszio and Eran’s mouths dropped, and even the unflappable Alameth looked the slightest bit uncomfortable.
“Who?” Akela asked.
Laszio leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow at Akela. “Yakum of Beijing? As in Lucifer’s leading authority over the Chinese principalities?”
Akela blinked.
Eran frowned. “You never heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have. But he couldn’t be that hard to handle, could he?” Akela cringed. He patted his hands together to appear upbeat, but by the way Nechum’s empathic sense resonated, it seemed more out of jitters than optimism.
Eran rubbed his face. “Yakum is a Destroyer like Alameth and controls demon legions throughout the Chinese province.”
Licking moisture back to his lips, Nechum turned to Akela, placed a hand on his knee, and mustered as compassionate a tone as he could offer. “Akela, God had stripped the power to take life from Yakum, but he’s a disease experimenter. He likes to make toxins and unleash them on human victims.” Nechum swallowed before continuing. “You, um, probably heard of the Black Plague?”
Akela’s weak smile evaporated, and his cobalt eyes flashed with hints of black. His stare fixed on Alameth.
Alameth, however, said nothing, but he folded his hands, confirming all that Nechum shared.
“Okay,” Akela said at length. “That’s pretty bad.”
Jediah lengthened his back. “It is, and God has revealed to us that Yakum is close to perfecting a virus for Lucifer that will decimate the seven continents.”
“Lord, no. Not again,” Nechum whispered as he covered his mouth.
“What does Yakum think he’s trying to pull?” Laszio snapped. “God won’t let him win. Not by a long shot.”
Jediah pointed to them. “Which is precisely why God sent us to Paris.”
“Yakum is in Paris?” Eran asked. “I thought Beijing was his base.”
Nodding his head, Jediah unfolded the paper. “It is, but we’re getting his informant first.” He panned a picture around for everyone to see. The colored sketch appeared vivid enough to be real. A powerful jaw. Red hair that had browned like dried blood. “His name is Malkior. He stands at six foot, ten. He’s an accomplished archer, and I’m told he’s been infiltrating hospitals and collecting medical data for Yakum.”
Jediah’s eyebrows raised in caution. “Malkior was a nature angel: fire class. He’s also a notorious coward and potentially destructive if panicked.”
Laszio and Eran drew in a sharp breath and clenched their teeth. The nature angels were elementals, gifted with powers that effected both physical and spiritual realms.
Nechum shuddered too, imagining the massive catastrophes such an enemy could inflict on the human population.
Jediah gave a knowing look. “Clearly, you all realize the delicacy of the situation. The only way to do this without causing citywide havoc is to chain down Malkior before he even thinks he’s in trouble.”
“And what level of threat does he possess, Captain?” Alameth asked.
Nechum’s ears pricked. He hadn’t heard Alameth speak before.
“He’s developed a new way to convert energy into arrows,” Jediah answered. “These arrows are highly combustible, capable of blasts that can harm hundreds at a time.”
“So, we’re after a twitchy sniper with a knack for explosions,” Eran dryly commented. “Fun.”
Jediah pulled a map from his pocket and set it on the suitcase in the center of their circle. He ushered everyone closer. “Malkior is here at Austral Région Hospital. I’ve been going over the layout, and I believe I have a pretty good grasp of the area.” His finger pressed on a tiny dot surrounded by yellow lines and white patches. “Now, since Malkior has been hacking human devices and peeking in locked medicine cabinets, it’s safe to assume he won’t be in human disguise. Therefore, some of us will comb the place in human disguise to lower suspicions while the others take care to block his escape routes.”
“Okay,” Akela piped up. “How are we going in?”
“There are four levels to this building,” Jediah explained. “I’m assigning four of us, including myself, to go in and check the rooms. The last two will keep watch in the trees surrounding the building.” He faced his wingmen. “Laszio. Eran.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You two will secure the perimeter. I want you both in your ministry angel cloaks and positioned in these corners. You should have a clear visual of the hospital walls from there. Keep yourselves hidden in the trees should there be any trouble. If not, find a car or a trash can to hide in. Should Malkior make a break for it, chase him down. I’ll get there as soon as possible. Understood?”
Laszio’s eyes sparked with anticipation. “One hundred percent.”
“That will leave the rest of us to search the rooms.” Jediah’s finger circled over Akela, Alameth, and Nechum. “Alameth, you and I will go in as regular visitors. Act normal,normal but be vigilant. Nechum, I understand what I’m about to ask you goes against usual protocol, but you’re the most experienced of all of us. I want you to impersonate an actual worker.”
Nechum lurched back, horrified. “What?”
Jediah remained resolute, yet he stepped closer and patted Nechum’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but someone needs to search the staff areas, and it’s unlikely the other employees would accept just anybody in a uniform. It’s less compromising if one of us looks like someone they know.”
“But what about the actual person?” Nechum cried. “Unless they’ve got a twin, I’ll be caught anyway.”
“Not so long as the actual person isn’t there.” Jediah’s eyes trailed to Alameth.
A weakness fell over Nechum, and his knees trembled. “You don’t mean-”
“Worry not, brother Nechum.” Alameth turned toward him. “I swear whomever you choose shall not die.” The angel of death placed a hand over his chest and bowed. Then his green eyes closed in thought. “The trick will be to ensure no one is aware of his or her absence until we’re done.”
“Which also means you’ll have cut off his or her means of communication, Nechum,” Jediah added. “Before Alameth does his... thing.”
Nechum rubbed his temples, almost wishing to be sent into combat instead. “Yes sir, but I’ll need to study the victi—I mean, the person first.”
“What about me?” Akela interjected. “What do I do?”
Jediah smiled. “You, Akela, will get basement duty.”
The messenger brightened. “Okay. Neat. What’s basement duty?”
Jediah leaned in toward Akela with a glint in his eye. “Can I trust you, Akela?”
Akela bent forward, meeting Jediah’s face. “I live to serve.”
“The building relies on a boiler to keep it heated. The day before we move in, you break that boiler. The hospital staff should then try to call repair service, but as soon as they dial the number, I want you to hijack the phone line, intercept that call, and pass yourself off as the repairman. Then you’re clear the next day to access the basement.”
Akela grinned. “Oooh. I like this plan.”
“But you’ve got to stay there,” Jediah emphasized. “If one of us besides me finds Malkior, I want them to alert you. Then you discretely alert me. Then alert everyone else. Got it?”
Akela winked. “Got it.”
Jediah locked eyes with him. “I’m trusting you here, Akela. So please, for goodness’ sake, don’t socialize when you can.”
“Why?” Akela waited, but after a few seconds of Jediah’s dry expression, his smile disappeared. “Point taken,” he moaned. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Sheesh. Mess up once and you’re convicted for life.”
Jediah relaxed. “Thanks for understanding. Don’t fix that boiler until we find Malkior. Make excuses if you have to.” Straightening his posture, Jediah looked around. “Any questions?”
The silence was unanimous.
“And if anything goes wrong-” Jediah motioned to Alameth. “Alameth? Care to demonstrate?”
Alameth stood and opened a hand. A stream of ribboned mist collected above his palm, forming a smooth ball. He then clamped it in his fist and compressed it. Wisps popped between his fingers. Then in his reopened hand laid a grey pellet. He first held it between his finger and thumb before he smacked it on the ground. It burst near Laszio’s toes, and a thick cloud plumed in his face. Laszio coughed and rubbed his tearing eyes in the smoke screen. “My apologies.” Alameth said, as he handed Laszio a bagful of pellets. “Don’t swallow.”
***
Nechum bit his lip. The Austral Région Hospital buzzed with activity. Narrow hallways were cramped with stretchers that either ferried patients from one room to the other or were left parked by the walls like boats at a dock. No matter where he went, constant stimulus flooded Nechum’s senses. A mother screeched in labor. A family sobbed for a loved one. Life and death danced under the same roof.
Pretending to be a random young man, Nechum tried not to look too pensive around the doctors, nurses, and clerks. Someone with free access. He spotted a doctor reading a clipboard and surrounded by nurses. No, their schedules were too tight. Clerks tapped on computers. Too stationary. A surgeon dashed to the emergency wing. Definitely not!
Nechum pressed his head in his hands as worry set in. I’m gonna get somebody fired. Standing there, he caught sight of a subtle yellow glow that crept along the floor. Then Akela’s head poked through the ground like a dolphin’s dorsal fin. Akela spotted him, and winked as if to say, ‘You got this.’
Nechum smiled back, but only briefly.
Akela crept up to the front desk just as a loud nurse groaned to the desk clerk. “The boiler broke again. That stupid rust bucket needs to be replaced.”
The clerk sighed. His fingers made a medley of clicks on his keyboard. “Alright. Alright. I’ll call them.” He picked the phone off the receiver.
From his position, Nechum watched Akela dive under the clerk’s chair and reach for the phone line. Upon clutching the cord, his whole being zipped into the wire, and the electrical currents swept him right into the receiver.
“He’s going to feel utterly drained after doing that,” Nechum thought. He himself experienced the sharp tingling of cyber-travel before. It was as tiring as it was disorienting.
The clerk stopped drumming his fingers. “Hello plumbing service?”
Nechum made a rueful smile and wandered toward the elevator. Well, at least Akela has a handle on this. Maybe I’ll get a clue of who to choose upstairs.
The doors dinged, and a cart full of mops, brooms, and cleaners blocked Nechum’s way. The disengaged janitor grabbed its handles. “Pardon me, sir.”
“Oh, sorry.” Nechum stepped aside, but before the janitor could clear the elevator, the doors pinned the cart on both sides. He grunted something inaudible. Unfortunately, Nechum had a good guess at what crass word was said.
Nechum took hold of the cart. “Sorry. Let me help you with that.”
“It’s fine.” The sullen man, who was well into his thirties, pushed it as the doors separated and wheeled it along. “Thanks anyway.”
Nechum peered at the ID tag that hung from his shirt pocket.
***
That evening, Nechum scoured the janitor’s apartment. For someone who’s job is to clean, he didn’t seem bothered by his personal landfill of a residence.
The man slurped his ramen noodle supper and paid no attention to anything else. The curled pasta flipped broth all around his bowl, greasing the table.
Nechum stuck his hand into the cellphone beside his elbow. The screen displayed: “battery—forty percent”. He twitched his fingers. A weak jolt pricked him, and the screen went dead.
As the janitor got down to the last spoonfuls of creamy broth, Nechum looked toward the city lights beyond the slightly ajar window. Alameth still waited for him, peeking through the leaves of a distant tree.
Shuddering, Nechum stalled to at least give the poor man the chance to finish his meal in peace. Just then, the janitor raised the bowl to his lips and drank the last drops. Resigned, Nechum sighed. He bent his knees. His heels lightly bounced on the hardwood floor, then charged the window. Jumping right through, he nabbed a telephone wire, swung twice around to gain momentum, then let go. His somersault sent him across the street in a perfect arch. He extended a foot and landed atop an upper branch. After balancing a few seconds, he climbed down.
Alameth gave a slight smile. “So, wingless angels really do fly.” His comment came with such a stoic tone, Nechum wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a joke.
“Um, thank you?”
Alameth rolled his shoulders, straightened his back, and held out his bow to Nechum. “Hold this for me, please.” With his arms freed, the Destroyer raised a hand. A pillar of mist rolled up before him. He clapped over it with both hands and rubbed vigorously. The grey wisps rolled and lengthened until it hardened into a long shaft.
Grasping it, Alameth squinted. His hands traveled its length up to the tip to mold a sharper point. Pricking his finger, he nodded in satisfaction, then reached for his bow. “Thank you.”
Nechum hesitated but told himself, “This was all for the best,” and handed the weapon back.
Alameth anchored the glowing shaft to the arrow rest. White particles dusted off the arrow as he pulled the drawstring back. The bow curved slightly as the string touched the right corner of Alameth’s mouth.
Nechum counted the breaths Alameth took and sensed a faint nervousness. He looked back into the apartment. The janitor stood up, about to carry his bowl to the kitchen.
Alameth’s arrow cut the air. The man walked toward the left, almost disappearing from view, but the shaft slipped right through the window glass and into his stomach. The man paused. He patted his chest, releasing a burp.
A subtle gasp drew Nechum’s attention back to Alameth, whose shoulders seemed a little less rigid. Alameth, upon noticing Nechum’s concern, offered a faint smile. “Give him a couple days. He’ll be fine.” Riding on gentle mists, he floated down to the sidewalk.
Nechum lingered a moment before joining him. The edges of the leaves Alameth touched withered. Nechum’s gaze then turned to the window, only to watch the poor man clutch his abdomen and dash for the bathroom.