SAMANTHA GRIMES (33y) MAY 2021, 08.53
Samantha Grimes screamed. John's parents must have heard it downstairs, because they rushed through his room's doorway within seconds. Samantha looked down at the bed with her hand over her mouth and her eyes stretched wide. 'His eyes are open!'
'What?' John's dad gripped John's mam's hands as they ventured closer. Hope bloomed on their faces like the sunrise on a cold winter day when they realised what Samantha said was true. She liked that. Hope was beautiful, especially if the hope turned into satisfied joy. That was why she loved her job so much.
John's mam bit her lip and stroked the side of his face. 'Get the Doctor, Dan.' A tear streaked its way down her age-worn face and she watched her son. 'Get the Doctor here now.'
His father pressed the little red button above John's bed, it beeped twice, and then a bleary-eyed man appeared on the screen. The man squinted at them then rubbed a hand over his face. Doctor Mattison had odd sleeping hours, and Samantha almost felt guilty that he'd been woken. But the hope on John's parents' faces dulled that guilt.
'Mr Finnie, what seems to be the problem?'
'His eyes opened, Doc,' John's dad swivelled the screen toward himself. 'I'm sure he is coming through this time.'
The Doctor shook his head and closed his eyes briefly as if to get rid of a lingering lethargy or maybe a bad dream. 'Show me.' He pinched the bridge of his nose.
'Sure thing.' Mr Finnie swung the portable screen over the bed and placed it above John's face. 'Is that okay, Doc?'
'Yes.' The doctor nodded and popped his glasses on with the ease and comfort that comes with years of habit. 'Now, if you wouldn't mind taking a step back please, while I conduct a series of tests.'
An automated arm moved from John's one eye to the next, firing a series of strobing lights into John's pupils, and then a brief red glimmer of sharp light. Once it was done, the automated arm grabbed the other screen and moved from one screen to another on the giant machine that'd kept John alive all this time.
Mrs Finnie's palms were sweaty, cloying, clutched in Samantha's left hand. Mr Finnie grabbed his wife's other hand; they had been through this trial quite a few times, and the hope they clung to was weak and dwindling. Both parents looked at each other with shining eyes wet at the corners, and that look said it all. Yeah, they had been through this before, but he had never opened his eyes before--not once in sixteen years. Something had to be different.
The doctor's screen stopped at one of the machine's screens for a considerable time, and the doctor spoke to the machine. 'Bring me a brain activity timeline from twenty minutes ago please.'
The screen swung back in Samantha's direction, and the Doctor spoke again. 'I'm getting John's brain activity reports for the last twenty minutes. None of the other diagnostic computers show any signs that he is awakening. This may just be another false alarm.' The Doctor sighed, he knew they had been through this before. 'Sometimes muscles can spasm; I don't want to give you any false hope.'
With that the screen spun again, back the activity log. Samantha could just catch him talking to the machine now, and she strained her ears to hear each word.
'Magnify times ten. Okay, next minute, times ten again please.'
'Computer, analyse last twenty minutes of brain activity. Full spectrum analysis all wave patterns please, with a tenfold analysis on delta patterns.'
Mrs Finnie squeezed Samantha's hand and smiled at her. They would be crushed if this was another false alarm she realised, and squeezed John's mam's hand in return with a hopeful smile.
The screen swung around again to face them, it moved forward on a telescopic tube until it was almost face to face with them. 'I'm doing an in depth survey of all his brainwave patterns now, any blip will emerge. Don't hold you bre-'
'Activity found Doctor,' the computer interrupted him; the woman's voice coming from the speaker spoke without emotion. 'Magnifying delta pattern now.'
Wait, what had the computer said? God she hoped they found something. Even though she knew that statistically it was unlikely, impossible even, she couldn't hold back the butterflies beating at her stomach wall. Maybe he was really waking up.
The doctor's screen shot back, looking at the activity, and moved over John's unconscious face. The words they'd only dared to dream came from the screen then.
'Welcome back John.' Yes! Samantha's tears streamed down her cheeks freely now, and she gripped Mrs Finnie in a tight hug.
'Oh,' Mrs Finnie sobbed into her shoulder then abruptly turned to her weeping husband and held him even tighter. With one hand, Samantha wiped the tears off her cheeks and smiled at the couple. Love like that was something beautiful to see, and the joy in the room was tangible. Their boy was coming back to them; John was coming back. Though his face was still slack, Samantha imagined kissing him again and her arms tingled.
Within an hour the Doctor had assembled John's dedicated response team: three doctors, two nurses, and Samantha his physiotherapist.
'Right folks,' he said. 'Firstly we give him a powerful relaxant. We don't want the brain to take any strain trying to stimulate muscle movement. Everyone in agreement?' The team nodded.
The Doctor took out the medicine and injected it into John's intravenous drip.
JOHN FINNIE (33y)
A dizzy wave hit John and his stomach threatened to vomit up its contents. When it stopped, he opened his eyes; he was stretched out on the floor, back in the black box he had spent sixteen years in. Fuck.
Semila looked serene where she knelt praying on the other side of his soul. She turned to face him and all the angelic qualities vanished with the first words out of her mouth.
'What the fuck are you doing back?' The shock in her voice took John by surprise.
He glared at her. 'Hey, I Blinked and it was all black. It was worse than this place, honestly it was like being behind a blacked out window. I could hear everyone. I pounded on the window, I screamed but no one could hear me.' Gesturing with his hands, his voice rose to a shout. 'Then out of fucking nowhere, I find myself back here. I'm as confused as you are right now, so don't give me shit.'
What a fuckup. John bit his lip and Semila's eyes widened. Must have been a long time since any mortal had talked back to her. John shook his head; he knew it was wrong to shout at the only person who knew what he was going through, but maybe he'd just got to a place beyond hope and sanity and was fucking tired of having no control over his own life. John clenched his fists and imagined smashing them into the walls, or into someone's face. Death's maybe.
But Semila smiled at him. 'Calm down there, kiddo.'
She was right, no use getting worked up. He let out a sigh and looking around, attempting to quell his irritation. The cuts and bruises had faded from Semila's arms, leaving only the faintest silver lines. How had that happened? 'You healed yourself?'
Semila smiled. 'Yeah. Cool aint it? Well, at least he left us with one little gift.' Another sigh escaped her and she looked down at him.
'You, my sunshine, are going to be a pain in my ass. I am beginning to wish I'd never volunteered to take you on.'
'Wait, what do you mean volunteered?' John frowned and clenched his fists again. Fuck patience and all the assholes who'd taken his life from him.
'Sit,' she said and made another chair appear. A soft, purple-ish one this time.
Ah, fuck it. John plonked down. May as well hear what she had to say. 'How do you guys do that? It's my soul and but I can't to a thing.'
Semila laughed and her gold tooth gleamed in the grey light. 'It's magic, John!' Another cuss word was on his lips, but she didn't notice.
'Anyway, to answer your previous question, yeah I chose to take you on. After Aspilon was murdered you became an unguarded. You were in peril and so I fought to claim you.'
Every time he learned something new. 'Unguarded, huh. Why was I in peril?' Peril. That felt so weird coming out of his mouth, but it sounded so right coming from Semila even though she looked more like an unwashed biker's ex-girlfriend than an angel.
'An unguarded has no one looking out for them,' she said, her hand out and palm up. 'Do you ever wonder why some people get knocked over, hurt, injured, even killed?'
In fact, he had wondered just that more than she could ever guess because of Dad.
'And when they get hurt or things go wrong it feels like it happens to them more than others? It's because they have become unguarded. Through no fault of their own, like you. Or they elect not to have a guardian through their deeds and choices.'
Well this was good news. Maybe now Death could go fuck himself with all his threats about John and his family. 'So because I have you watching over me, I'm invincible?' A relieved laugh built in his chest, but Semila shook her head. Damn.
'Don't be a dick John, I don't mother you. If you fall and scrape your knee, so be it. I'll protect you, though. Y'know, fight any thing that may come to kill you.'
'You mean a thing like Grimsol.'
Semila folded her arms and sat back in her purple chair.
'Why me?' Wonder filled John and he imagined himself with bright eyes and an open mouth. Wait, his mouth really was open. He shut it and tried not to look at Semila's eyes.
'You are a good person John, and most things you have done are with good intentions.' She reached forward and grabbed his chin so he couldn't avoid her eyes. Those hypnotic, beautiful eyes...
'Most things,' she said again, and averted her gaze.
That snapped John out of his reverie. He looked away, licking his lips once.
'Did you know evil people have guardians too?' she said.
The floor, he'd look at the floor. 'Like Grimsol?'
'Yes,' she said, 'just like Grimsol. Demons like these are favoured by that fucker down there.'
God Semila swore a lot, especially for someone who called themselves an angel. John lifted his head and looked at her chin. 'Do you have to swear so much? It's not very, um...' He swallowed. 'Angelic, is it?'
A frown crossed Semila's features like a flash flood. 'Angelic? I ceased being a proper Angel the day I sided with mankind. We guardian angels were cast out of Heaven as penance for the act you know, and our wings pulled off us as if we were nothing but insects.'
Wow, he would never have guessed. Was God so cruel? Mind you, he'd not thought about God much before. Who was to say he wouldn't do something like that? Either way, John felt guilty and angry for Semila's sake.
'So if you don't fucking mind, no I won't stop swearing.' She shrugged. 'Anyhow I like it, it's expressive.'
'Man, I'm sorry,' John said. 'Fuck.'
She laughed, and then looked upwards--seemed that storm cloud was getting darker, and John's pity turned to trepidation. What was Semila capable of when angered?
'He still needs us though,' she said, her eyes trained on the black ceiling of his soul. 'We get the dirty work done.' The angry look on her face didn't soften, as if pent up indignation and hurt was finding a small way to release itself. John nodded, gulped, and held his hands together whilst resting his elbows on his thighs.
Just then Semila leapt from her purple chair, and John shot back into his. What the hell? She stormed over to a wall and scratched a violent square on its surface with her bare nails, creating a window to the blackness outside.
'You listening?' she shouted and leaned out the window. 'We do all your dirty work, don't we? Would be a catastrophe if one of your la de da angels got blood on their hands, wouldn't it?' John couldn't see her face, but her dirty hair shook along with her fist.
Semila huffed, whispered something while she drew her fist back, and the black window contracted within itself.
Whoa, and John had thought Mam was scary when she was angry. This woman--angel--whatever she was, was scarier by far. Or maybe just crazy. As Semila walked back, she pulled the purple chair by its back, set it upright, and plonked down in it mumbling curses under her breath.
'Semila?' John wanted to pat her shoulder or something but swallowed again instead.
'Where was I?' she said and flung a dangly strand of dirty hair out of her face. 'Oh yeah, those fuckers down there. They get into your mind and whisper. Good people choose to ignore them, weak and evil people answer back. They are like a cancer. Your soul blackens with every bad deed until you become like them. Pawns to the worst of all.'
John gulped again and his heart thumped against his chest. 'The worst?'
A smile quite un-angelic spread across her face, and the gold tooth sparkled with its own light. 'Yeah the worst of all. You know him as the Devil, Satan, the Unclean One.' Semila waved a nonchalant hand in the air and slouched deeper into her chair. 'He goes by all sorts of different names, but they all mean the same. He is a devious bastard, and I guess he would love to get his claws on you.'
A drop of sweat had formed on John's forehead and it itched--how did that work anyway, sweating when his body wasn't even here. Semila, still slouching like a forty-year-old couch potato, dug out her knife and flipped it in the air. It spun several times before she caught it. 'Don't worry John, he won't get anywhere near you while I'm around.'
That was a relief. John swiped the itchy bead of sweat from his head, got up, and walked over to the wall. If Semila could do it, why not him? This was his soul after all. With his nails bared, he tried to scratch a window into the black room's wall. It didn't work. Why didn't it work?
As he turned to Sem, a more important thought dawned on him. 'Hang on a second; you let Grimsol get near me. Isn't he evil?'
Semila blushed, a strange thing to see on that tough face. 'Yeah, but I was busy doing other things John. Anyway, how was I supposed to know he could get in here?'
John snorted. 'You are supposed to be a guardian angel. Doesn't that mean you watch over me twenty-four, seven?'
'John John.' She shook her head and sat forward. 'We could go through the ins and outs of guardian angel life all day, it's a fucking complicated thing keeping people safe. Sometimes they are just plain stupid. I was fighting for you the day you got knocked over, all you had to do was look left and right.'
John gave an unamused laugh. 'Hindsight, eh.'
Semila raised one eyebrow.
Guilt bubbled inside him, and he looked at the ground again. Pretty black floor that it was. John blew out a deep breath, fiddled with his fingers, and once he thought her scolding gaze had waivered, looked up. But her drool-worthy eyes still looked directly at him and seemed to cut deep into him.
'Alright,' he sighed, 'I get it. How do I get back home Semila?' Safer territory.
'I could feel that I was back, I just couldn't move or speak. It was horrible. It was worse than being here. It was like I was in a dark glass coffin.' John shuddered and put a steadying hand against the black wall.
The wall shimmered and he drew his hand back as if a snake had bitten him. Death walked in with a casual gait, looked around, and smiled. 'I must be getting used to this,' he said and grabbed the fore of his black cloak like a proud 1820's patriarch. 'It's the first time I have entered and stayed on my feet!' He smirked, and John clenched his fists again. This time he'd try smashing Death's jaw in for real.
Semila stood and bowed, all formal. 'Anubis.'
'Ah Semila, nice to see you without a knife at my back. Your methods are quite uncouth for an angel I must say.' John's nostrils flared and his biceps tensed.
The chair Semila had sat on dissipated and she took a step back. It almost looked like she revered or respected Death.
'And what are you doing back here?' Death said, turning to John.
John leaned back against the wall and sank down to his haunches. 'I haven't the faintest clue.'
Death walked closer to Semila and put his one hand on the back of John's chair. 'Do you mind?'
She smiled. 'Be my guest.'
Death sat down and looked straight at John, all the while drumming his fingers on his thighs.
'That,' said John, pointing at his fingers, 'gets right on my nerves.'
'Oh does it?' Death raised his eyebrows. 'It's an old habit to get me thinking.' The drumming continued and John grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut.
At last the drumming stopped, Death stood up and smoothed out his black gown. 'I like you John, I have tried not to, but I do.'
Whoop de fucking doo. 'Yeah,' John said and scowled at him like it could burn him. 'You like me so much that you give a demon exclusive access to me. Thanks, but I will waive this particular friendship, if you don't mind.'
'He has a point Anubis,' Semila said, stepping between John and Death's line of sight. 'A particularly nasty fucker he was too.'
'Semila,' Death said, 'you will never be invited back into Heaven if you continue to speak like that. You know he doesn't like it.'
John caught the look on Semila's face. Was it...embarrassment?
She nodded and stepped back again.
'Now,' said Death, 'where was I? Ah yes, help.' He stood up, walked to the furthest corner of the room, and started speaking to himself. 'I am neutral and therefore cannot take sides. Advice, however, is free, and whether you decide to heed it or not is your choice. Yes, advice is neutral. It is one thing I can give away for free.'
What? John looked at Semila who shrugged. Death turned around grinned, looking for once like he'd always imagined an agent of death might look like: a sinister sneer, a wicked gleam in the eye, a jagged sharpness to the edges of his face, and hooded with shadow.
'Semila, come here please girl.'
John's eyes widened. She walked over without even one cuss word. Death whispered in her ear, and then both Death and Semila looked back to John.
'What's going on?' he said. When would these people stop planning his life for him?
Both of them ignored him. They carried on whispering for a few minutes longer, occasionally looking back at him. John strained, but couldn't hear any of the conversation. Fuckers.
Death broke the silence. 'Are you clear on what needs to be done?' He looked directly at Sem and she nodded.
'Crystal clear Anubis. Thank you for the advice.' She lowered her gaze in respect.
Death walked over to where John still sat. 'I will be going now my friend; I doubt we will see each other again until your time comes.' He patted John on the shoulder and moved over to the wall. For a moment he hesitated. 'And Semila, do not go into any places that sell alcohol please.' With that he walked through the wall.
Semila walked over to John, sat down, and gave a low whistle. 'Never in all my time have I heard Death call anyone friend. You should count yourself blessed.'
A sudden pang of guilt squeezed John's guts, he hadn't even said farewell. The wall into which Death had disappeared looked as dark and empty as ever. 'Do you think he knows more than he lets on?'
Semila looked at the wall. 'Definitely.'
'So,' he said, 'What's next?'
Semila smiled. 'I'm going back to your world. I'm going to help you from there.' Her smile widened as she talked and that golden tooth popped back into view. 'Oh, I love it there. Mortals are such funny things.'
A lurching feeling started in his stomach. 'I don't feel too good here, Sem.' As he looked on, she faded away. 'Oh god, the room is spinning.'
She reached out for his hand, but John was already spinning away, screaming as he flipped and spun. Then she was gone.
John was back in the dark glass coffin.
P.S.
Yeah, anything worth doing in life isn't gonna be easy, right? Any opinions on the matter? Would love to hear from all the readers who've got this far.
© Steve Ford and Joy Cronjé 2018