Lost Soul (11 page)

The thought made him realize that the Walkers would probably react negatively if they saw a strange man in their back yard.
 
With one last glance at the spot where his life as an angel had ended, Michael quickly strode out of the yard and into the street.
 
He wasn’t sure what to do, so he wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, enjoying the flex of his muscles as he pumped his legs and swung his arms.
 
He drew deep breathfuls of air, enjoying the expanse of his lungs as he strode.
 
When a woman on the opposite sidewalk gave him a strange look he decided exercise clothes might be better suited to his current pace than the suit and dress shoes he was currently wearing.
 
He turned the corner and morphed his clothes simultaneously, hoping no one saw his quick change.
 
It was early Friday morning, the day after a holiday, so he supposed most humans were sleeping in, enjoying another day off.
 
Still, he realized he would have to be extra careful not to draw any attention to himself by behaving unnaturally.
 
He had spent the last seven years watching humans, so he figured he had a pretty good idea of what was normal and not, but he wasn’t sure he could pull off acting human.

He let his mind wander as he strolled, reveling in the sights and sounds of the world around him.
 
Never in a million years did he expect to actually realize his lifelong fantasies and become human, so now that he was he didn’t have any clue what he was going to do.
 
He thought back on all the human experiences he had envied and tried to decide what he should do first.
 
The sense of freedom alone was overwhelming.
 
Every moment of his life up until this point had been dedicated to protecting a human.
 
Not that he had minded; on the contrary, his entire motivation for living was wrapped up in the tiny little humans he had sworn to protect.
 
But now that he didn’t feel the pull of another being demanding his attention he felt an amazing relief, a sense of independence so new and exhilarating he could hardly contain his excitement at the possibilities.

A patch of flowers caught his eye as he walked and he stopped to enjoy their fragrance.
 
God had created a beautiful earth, but in seeking to rule it, humans had sullied its beauty with the detritus of their broken lives.
 
He longed for the perfection of heaven and wished he could find a reminder of it here on earth.
 
Michael’s world had been so small, his focus had been so narrow, that everything around him lately was created by humans.
 
He had been confined to a manmade house filled with plastic toys and blinking electronics, rarely venturing out to even see the sky.
 
When they did escape the confines of their home, they traveled in a box made of metal and glass, insulated from the sun and wind and rain, barely ever touching their feet to the earth.

He glanced at the shoes on his feet and resented them.
 
He quickly slipped them off and dangled them from his fingers, letting his feet explore the rough ground.
 
He wished he could step off the sidewalk and traipse through the grass, but figured the residents might not appreciate him trampling their yards.

He didn’t have to stay here, he realized with a thrill.
 
He was free to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
 
The world was his oyster, as the saying went, although never having touched or tasted an oyster he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded exciting.
 
He quickly thought back on the places he had admired from heaven, back when he was an angel in training, gazing down on the world below.
 
He would go visit one of them as a human, he decided suddenly.
 
Heck, he could visit them all if he wanted to!

Neither of his human families had traveled much, but he had enjoyed an occasional trip to the lake shore and a walk through the tulips gardens in Holland, Michigan.
 
They were beautiful places, but he knew he could find something even better.
 
Karen had always fantasized about a Caribbean vacation, so Michael decided that would be a good way to start.
 
Sneaking into a backyard that looked deserted, Michael quickly dissolved his body and returned to his spirit form so he could travel angel style.
 
A moment later he was standing on the shores of the Caribbean sea, gazing out at the turquoise water.

He found a hidden spot in a grove of palm trees and recreated his human body, this time clothed in swim trunks and carrying a beach towel and a lounge chair.
 
He strolled nonchalantly out of his hiding place and found an empty spot where he could sit and admire the water.
 
He buried his toes in the sand, enjoying the way his feet burrowed through the fine warm grains on top till he reached the cool, dense sand below.
 
He wiggled his toes and sighed as he let his body relax.

The view was gorgeous — water so clear blue he could see all the way to the bottom, gentle waves turning white as they lapped at the shore, birds squawking as they soared and dived overhead.
 
There were too many people, though, and Michael was fascinated and terrified of them at the same time.
 
What if someone tried to talk to him?
 
He worried.
 
That’s what humans did, though, he realized.
 
A huge part of being human was interacting with other humans.
 
If he was going to be human he would have to learn how to talk to them.
 
He wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that yet, though, so he tried hard to remain so unobtrusive he was practically invisible.

He watched the people playing and enjoying their activities and he tried to understand their motivations.
 
Sarah and Karen had been easy to relate to because their motivations were so similar to his — protect the children.
 
Their joy had usually come from time spent with Colby and Jessica, same as his.
 
But what made other people tick?
 
He wondered, staring intently at each person around him — a man kissing his wife, a boy chasing his sister with a pail of water, teenagers flirting with each other as they showed off their lithe physiques.
 
Their were a few people just enjoying the view or immersing themselves in the pages of a novel, but most of the people seemed to be focused on enjoying one another.
 
The thought stirred up emotions he’d rather not feel, so he shoved them down and concentrated on experiencing the sensations instead.
 
He couldn’t let himself think about his failures or the losses they had caused.
 
Even the briefest memory brought pain too intense to bear.
 
So he locked it all away in a tiny, impenetrable box and pretended there was nothing more important in the whole wide world than the feel of the sun on his face and the breeze in his hair.

When his skin began to sizzle under the intense heat of the Caribbean sun, Michael finally left his little oasis and waded into the cool water.
 
He jumped as the waves splashed higher and higher on his overheated body, causing a shiver of surprise every time it touched dry skin.
 
Once he was fully emerged and his body temperature regulated, he sighed in relief, letting the water take away his tension.
 
Stretching his arms out beside him, he noticed how easily they floated on the salty water.
 
Curious, he laid back and tried to keep his entire body afloat.
 
It took a little practice, but within a few seconds he was totally relaxed, cradled by the sea, with the sun for a blanket.
 
The sound of the water lapping in his ear was a lullaby, but when he caught himself drifting off he decided he better not risk a nap in the ocean and traipsed lazily back to his chair for a siesta.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, an uncomfortable feeling settled in his belly and he became hyperaware of the scent of food wafting on the air.
 
He realized with a laugh that he was hungry, an urge he had never felt before but one so intense it quickly blocked out thoughts of anything else.
 
A small pink and green shack stood a few hundred yards away and a line of people had formed in front of it.
 
When they reached the front of the line they were rewarded with wooden sticks threaded with sizzling meat, and the sight of them gnawing on the dripping hunks sent waves of hunger rolling through Michael’s stomach.
 
He noticed the people in line acted oblivious towards one another, as if the mere act of standing in a queue made them invisible to each other.
 
They would speak to friends and family waiting with them, but completely ignored the other people around them.
 
Only when they reached the shack did they converse with the person behind the counter.

Michael decided he could probably handle the conversation required to purchase something to eat, so he abandoned his chair and joined the end of the food line.
 
He shuffled nervously through the line, hoping and dreading at the same time that someone would start up a conversation with him.
 
With his arms crossed defensively against his chest and a nervous look on his face, though, he figured his body language was probably a strong enough deterrent.

When he reached the front of the line he gulped as he stared the attendant in the eye.
 
The bronze-skinned man with a thick head of black braided hair and an even thicker Caribbean accent said, “What’llyahave, mon?”

“I’ll have the special,” Michael croaked, and his voice sounded like a stranger’s.

“$5.00, mon,” the vendor replied, holding out his hand.

Michael’s eyes widened as he realized the man expected money and he had none.
 
Then he chuckled when he realized if he could generate a beach chair and swim trunks he could certainly come up with a few dollar bills.
 
He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of ones.
 
He peeled off five and handed them to the man in exchange for a paper basket full of deep-fried food.
 
His smile turned to a smirk when it dawned on him that if he could create money to pay for food, he could probably just skip the middle man and conjure up his own dinner instead.
 
Oh well, he thought, the interaction had been good for him.
 
In fact, the hot, spicy meat filling his mouth made him so happy he even smiled as he passed another man headed towards the cantina.

“Good stuff, eh?” the man responded, nodding towards Michael’s dinner.

“The best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Michael exclaimed around a mouthful of food.
 
Michael smiled at his own joke and felt his nervousness lighten.

As the day waned and the sun dropped below the horizon in a brilliant display of color, Michael was awed by the beauty, but then he remembered how even the streets in heaven reflected a rainbow of sparkling hues from the light glittering off of them.
 
He was struck with a deep sadness even his day in paradise couldn’t erase and he decided to go see if anywhere else in this world could ever compete with the perfection of heaven.
 
Carrying his towel and chair back to the palm grove, he took one final moment to enjoy the scenery before doing his disappearing act out of the line of sight of any other beachgoers.

He immediately arrived at the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe, where a spray of water from Victoria Falls quickly drenched his jeans and tee shirt as he gazed at the massive display of power thundering gloriously right in front of him.
 
The mist swirled from the mighty falls like a cloud of smoke and the sound of the rushing water was so loud he could hear nothing but its deafening roar.
 
None of the other visitors were likely to strike up a conversation here.
 
The water hypnotized him as he stared at the crashing flow and he reveled in its awesomeness, but the mesmerizing sight and overwhelming sound left him feeling isolated in a vortex that threatened to suck him down into the hidden depths of the water.
 
This place may be as impressive as heaven, he thought, but it felt like hell.
 
He shook himself free from its oppressive grasp and quickly decided to try somewhere just as grand but hopefully less overwhelming, the only other place he remembered his families mentioning they’d like to visit, the Grand Canyon.

When he arrived, he couldn’t immediately see the canyon because a horde of tourists blocked his view, but when he finally made his way to the front of the crowd, his eyes marveled at the gorgeous stripes of color lining the jagged cliff walls and the unassuming river below that had cut its own path through the rock.
 
He chuckled as he realized the river reminded him of himself in a way, too bull-headed to do things the easy way.
 
He had forged his own path by sheer will and left a gaping hole in his wake.
 
The thought was depressing and Michael still felt lonely despite the throng of people surrounding him.
 
He wanted to try talking to someone but he didn’t have a clue what to say.
 
“That’s some hole in the ground, huh?” was the best line he could come up with and he was pretty sure that would only lead to nods of agreement at best and strange stares at worst.