The Assigned

Copyright © 2013 A. D. Smith, III
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Published by 33rd Productions/www.adsmith.org
Edited By Jeremy Anderberg
www.jeremyedits.com
Additional Editing By Karolyn Miller
[email protected]
To learn more about "The Assigned" or to contact A. D. Smith, please visit www.ADSmith.org

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A delicate line of blood trickles from the corner of Gloria’s mouth.
“Why didn’t she wait for me?”
Tre asks. He looks to me for answers, but just like him, I have none. He looks to Gloria, but she can’t answer. She’s gone. I imagine thoughts of his brother, Martin, flood his head. Comparisons are inevitable. So much can be said, but that’s not my story to tell …

“It can’t end like this!” Tre sobs.

“Come on man, do your thing!” I shout to get his attention. He’s the only one who can save her now. Tre places his hands around her face. Nothing. Now her chest. No response. His powers don’t seem to work as Gloria’s lifeless body rests in his arms. Even with his newfound abilities, Tre still finds himself in the same situation. And to think, we fight for life yet see so much death.

“Again!” I yell. Tre closes his eyes as he touches her face once more. Anxiously I watch, but still … nothing.

“NO!!!”

Cracks ripple through the ground as Tre slams his fist into the concrete floor. His eyes, now blood red, look up at me. “I’ll stay here with Glo,” he barely mumbles. “Zeek, you go after Bale.”

I ponder a response.

“Now!” Tre shouts, his voice steady as ever. “Do YOUR thing!”

“I’m going!” I yell back, attempting to regain my composure. As I focus on a point on the wall before me, I feel
my
Gift manifest. An image of Jason Bale flashes before my eyes. Now a car—no wait—a limousine. I jump on my bike, barreling out of the parking garage. The structure itself has suffered extensive damage at the hands of the dueling factions. As since millennia ago, one good, one evil. Although the outcome has already been decided, the war continues.
This is the way
.

At least this is what I’ve been told. So much has happened, I’m not sure what I believe. I fly down the highway like a bat out of Hell, or rather … Heaven. My Gift of Seeing leads me to the interstate bridge. As I ride, my mind traces back to before any of this started.

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

“… and do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the minister asked. Angelina coyly hesitated before answering. Finally smiling, she said, “Yeah, I’ll take him.”

“I’m sorry?” The elderly minister replied while cupping his ear. “You’ll have to speak up a bit!”

“I DO!”

I smiled as the few people who actually showed up tried to contain their laughter. The good ol’ preacher cleared his throat. “Great. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

I had kissed Angelina plenty of times before, but she’d given me explicit instructions for this particular public display. Funny. At the moment, I couldn’t think of the specifics. I leaned in and kissed her as only I knew how. Uncomfortable, the seventy year-old preacher man turned his head as I—how do they say—saluted my bride.

Wow
. Angelina and I were finally married. Although we’d only been together for a little over a year, it seemed like an eternity. Sure, we were only 18, but I knew she was the one for me. People said that’s only a few short lived years, but if they
lived
as I had, they wouldn’t consider them
short
by any means.

The sun began to set behind the old two-story farmhouse as our special day came to a close. The activities had been modest to say the least. Just six or so of Angelina’s closest friends, Mr. Stanley, Angelina’s forty-something year-old neighbor—who tried to act way too young—and the elderly minister’s near senile wife, all in the backyard of Angelina’s grandmother’s longtime home. Her grandmother said she was too tired to come outside, although I caught her peeking from a second story bedroom window.

Still wearing her wedding gown, a simple cream colored sundress, I helped Angelina atop my pride and joy, a 1977 Harley Custom Motorbike. Actually, only the motor was from an old salvage Harley. The body was a run-down Kawasaki. But it was
mine.
A string of “
Just Got Married”
beer cans adorned the aged chopper. Wearing a suit coat, t-shirt, bowtie, and oil stained jeans, I jumped on the bike with ease.

“So are you ready to start your new life, Mrs. Myers?” I asked my new bride.

“You bet,” Angelina replied as she kissed me.

“Ok, you two. Get a room!” said a teen girl with long brown hair. Angelina’s younger sister, Alicia approached from the house.
“Isn’t that right?”
she continued in an unusually high pitched voice mimicking the tone of the one year-old child she was carrying. Our child, Christina.

“There’s my baby!” shouted Angelina. “Bring her here.”

Drool rolled down the chubby toddler’s chin. Baby Christina giggled as she drew closer to her mother.

“Hey there Daddy’s little girl,” I smiled. Angelina and our daughter Christina were about the only two things that could melt this biker’s heart. “Now Alicia, if you don’t want us to go, we’ll stay.”

“And have my sister miss her honeymoon? No way. Besides, I can take care of my niece for three days.”

Just eighteen months apart, Angelina and Alicia had practically raised themselves. Their mother was dead and their father … he might as well have been. What a jerk. He wanted nothing to do with the girls after moving cross country with his new girlfriend. The sisters’ elderly grandmother took them in eight years ago, but now growing in age, the woman began to slow. Angelina and Alicia pretty much handled most of the house business now. The two were inseparable, which made it hard for me to initially break through. Once I did, the three of us were more like siblings than anything else. I had no close relatives—been in and out of foster care as long as I could remember. In fact I’d pretty much raised myself from the age of fourteen. Being around Angel and Alicia gave me more than just a girlfriend and her obnoxious little sister. It gave me family.

“Now it’s getting late,” said Alicia. “You guys need to go. It’s enough my sister let you talk her into riding a motorcycle on her wedding day. Now get! Scoot!”

“Thanks, Alicia,” said Angelina as she pulled her sister tight. “I love you, sis.” The younger sibling shrugged off the emotional display. Angelina scooped baby Christina from Alicia’s arms once more using her
goo goo gah gah
voice.

“I love you, Chrissy. Mommy will be back in a few days, Okay?”

Angel was so good with Christina even though our little girl was too young to understand as she stared back blankly.
“You wanna say bye to your daddy?”
Angelina mouthed.

This was the first baby I’d ever been around. I always felt as if I was too dirty to hold her or too stiff or that I may accidentally break her like one of the tools I worked with. Angel always tried to reassure me I could never hurt our baby as long as I treated her the way I treated her mother. Her words always encouraged me, although I still opted for a soft forehead kiss. “I love you, Chrissy-pooh.”

“Okay, you two. Get going!” said Alicia as she fanned us off.

Smoke filled the immediate air as I started the old chopper. Alicia rushed Chrissy back inside as Angelina waved, watching her sister and daughter grow rapidly smaller.

***

There was nothing quite like riding on a beautiful spring day. The air ripping through your hair along with the rhythmic sound and vibration of the bike doubled as physical therapy. I considered myself an avid rider and knew the route we were traveling by heart. As we made our way to Mississippi’s gulf coast, I made sure to stop at one of Angelina’s favorite viewing spots.

“It’s so beautiful, Zeek,” Angel admired as she watched the striking blue water. “Not as beautiful as you,” I whispered back.

Angel
, as I liked to call her, had brown eyes that seemed almost hypnotic. A wide gaping smile, but gorgeous nonetheless. Seemingly infinite stalks of brown hair flowed through the air like dandelion seeds. To a stranger, her features resembled someone of Brazilian heritage. Being her boyfriend, now husband, I knew she looked just like her Argentinean father. ‘Bout the only good thing he did. Regardless of
how
she got that way, Angelina’s beauty was undeniable. Sometimes I felt as if her refined, striking countenance clashed with this scruffy biker with Irish roots. So much so, I almost never approached her. Glad I did. My life was filled with problems before I met Angel, but she helped change my outlook on the world, and for that I loved her. We didn’t plan to have a child at the ripe young age of seventeen, but Christina was loved nevertheless. Having these new responsibilities had changed so much in me; how I handled money, the places I went, my temper. Two years ago, I was a guy that would fight anyone who gave me a wrong look, or even race my bike within inches of my life. Not now. For the first time ever, I had a reason to live.

“I can’t believe we’re married, Zeek.” I loved the way Angel said my name. She made it sound important. “I know, Angel,” I replied. “It’s unreal.”

She continued. “There’s two things I thank God for everyday …”

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her kiss the sparkling crystal cross pendant fastened around her neck. “… you and our baby,” she finished.

I could feel her eyes watching me, waiting for my response. A smile, or some variable of it, endeavored to form on my face but quickly dissolved. She must have seen it. “I know you don’t believe God put us together, but you’ll see,” she smiled.

“I’ve seen everything I need to see.” Subtly changing the subject, my hands brushed against her face. “Now let’s get this honeymoon started.”

Angel’s grandmother was a church going woman. She was strict in her old age and it caused the girls to act out, which is probably what initially drew Angelina to me. However, they never lost the faith their grandmother instilled in them.
Me, on the other hand?
I wouldn’t even know what the inside of a church looked liked. Angel and I were from two different worlds, but that’s why I loved her so much. She was strong in her convictions and wasn’t a pushover for anyone, including me. I didn’t believe the same things she did, but I respected Angelina and she respected me.

As our ride resumed, Angel tightened her grip around my waist. Her chin rested on my shoulder as I shouted over the growl of the chopper, “We’re almost there!”

“Zeek! Slow down!” she yelled as she held on. I downplayed her anxiety as I whisked around the curvaceous highway. I’d ridden the route hundreds of times and knew those roads like the back of my hand.

“Come on babe, live a little!”

“Zeek, please! You don’t know what’s around the—”

“What?!” The thundering hum of the bike drowned out Angelina’s plea. She tried again. “I said, how do y — ZEEK, WATCH OUT!!!”

Coming around a curve, a deer stood in the middle of the highway. Going close to 70 mph, I had little time to compensate.
I swerved
. Riding alone, I probably could have regained control, but the weight of us both was just too much, especially with Angel not knowing when and to what side to shift her weight. We were immediately thrown off. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as my body propelled twenty feet through the air. I once heard when you’re near death it’s not your life that flashes before your eyes, but the people you love. Still mid-flight, the only woman I’ve ever loved raced past mine. The airborne eternity abruptly ended as I crashed to Earth, tumbling down the highway. Blood gushed from my arm and I was pretty sure I’d broken a leg and at least a couple of ribs. But those were the least of my worries. As I dragged myself to my feet, Angelina was nowhere in sight.

“ANGEL!” I cried out over and over. But my pain-writhed calls went unanswered. By this time, other motorists had pulled over to help, but I couldn’t care less about my own well-being. I pleaded with them, “Find my wife! PLEASE!”

“Oh my God … She’s over here!” shouted one of the drivers. I hobbled as fast as I could to my Angel. My pace slowed as I inched toward her awkwardly positioned frame.

Instinctively, I wanted to pick her up though I knew her fragile body shouldn’t be moved.

Angel laid motionless, rocks and sand imbedded in her forehead and arms. Thickened blood seeped from her mouth. My mind wanted to go elsewhere but the present circumstances wouldn’t allow it. Angelina was unresponsive, but I knew she was alive.
She had to be
.

A speeding ambulance rushed us to the hospital. Medics kept trying to work on me, but I wouldn’t allow it. “Mr. Myers, please remain calm!” they kept shouting but all I could think about was Angel.

My entire life, I could fix most anything I put my hands on. Put bikes together like it was nothing, but now, here I was as helpless as our one year-old child.
Will her eyes just open,
I kept hoping. Just to see her eyes one more time. EMT administered medicines and fluids, none of which seemed to work.

“Please help her!” I begged, my eyes stinging from the salted tears that drenched my face. As I looked down, I noticed the once polished, now deeply scratched, pendant still hanging from her neck. I never believed in any of that stuff, but it had always been a source of comfort for Angelina. In a moment of sheer desperation, I rubbed the cross with my blood stained hands as I cried out,

“GOD SAVE HER! PLEASE!!!”

***

At the hospital, no one could tell me anything about Angel’s condition. They wouldn’t let me go back to her, always citing the same repetitive argument. “Sir, you need to let us see about your injuries.” The pain was too much. Not of my injuries but from not knowing. Why couldn’t they understand that? I just wanted to see Angel. I just wanted to see
my
Angel
.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor slowly made his way out to see me. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. I—I couldn’t breathe as I felt the last ounce of fight leave my body. As the room closed in on me, the world turned to darkness.

Hours later after I awakened, I found out my Angelina was pronounced dead at 7:46pm. She had massive head trauma. My body sat coiled in the corner of the waiting room as a nurse handed me a manila envelope containing her personal effects. Rage engulfed me as I pulled out the deeply scratched cross pendant. With grieved force, I threw that thing to the other side of the room. Hitting the wall, it shattered on impact.