The Complete Zagzagel Diaries (4 page)

Other than the occasional train, which ran along a set of railroad tracks to the east, and noises from the campus, which sat easily a hundred-plus yards past the field, silence shrouded us but for a random birdsong, the buzz of bees, or the near undetectable flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Give me the hustle of an urban environment any day. I scoffed at my surroundings as I turned to view Nick’s target—his roommate, and possibly more if my charge wasn’t so uptight about his sexuality. Moving about the far end of the otherwise lonely practice field, Cody volleyed a black-and-white ball from one side to the other with ease….
Those tight white shorts of his are easy on the eyes too.
With a resigned sigh, I forced my attention back to Nick.

Desperate for relief from the shame, from the confusion, from the guilt, Nick was a wreck just waiting to happen. In spite of the young man’s misgivings, however, how he could blatantly disregard such beauty—such opportunity—I failed to comprehend. Oh, I was aware of his reasons
—
my dad this, the church that
…maybe Cody’s wink yesterday at lunch set him off
—but I also knew how flawed Nick’s reasoning was. Of course, you could thank his father for that. Being born to a racist leader of the county’s most established hate group didn’t help the kid. Not at all.

Butt of the Remington to his shoulder, Nick wobbled his head toward the sight.
Do it. It’s the only way….
Or, so he thought, so sadly mistaken—and so incredibly inebriated; at best, I was able to maintain a working distance. One, which allowed for my intervention while accommodating my need to avoid a contact high…or nausea, whichever happened first. Personally, I didn’t feel it necessary to experience either one.

Arms crossed, wings tucked so close to my body I itched, I propped against a knotty oak, a shudder racing over me as I took in the more-than-healthy row of bushes to my left with its noxious bunches of dainty flowers. Nick thought he’d concealed himself to perfection in the lilac hedge forming the wall at this end of the field. I’d let him carry on his futile effort a while longer. Would hate to disillusion the poor soul; he did that to himself enough. A little out of arms’ reach of Nick and that wicked flowering hedge, I waited….

Little did he know—little did any of my charges know if you wanted the truth of the matter—not one detail in their lives went unnoticed. Nothing. Take Nick, this
waste of air—
Papa’s words, not mine—for example. Nick’s gay, but he’s hell bent on never admitting this fact, even though last Friday evening, he and his roommate engaged in some pretty heavy…well, what happened between them is really no one’s business.

Suffice to say, thanks to his wonderful role model of a father, not only does Nick believe he will now rot in hell, but also he thinks if wind of his little escapade reaches his father’s ears, he will be doomed in this life, to boot. Add his alcohol dependency and his staunch but warped religious upbringing, and one is left to surmise the kid is headed for catastrophe.

I was aware of all of this—but Nick? The young man had trouble seeing past his immediate need. Right now, he felt he needed to purge himself, though his actions were sorely misplaced. My mission was to lift the veil clouding his judgment, help him to see the good in life, and despite Big Papa’s doubts and His ridiculous rules, I was certain the arduous task was not impossible. I’m not saying that being an
Angel of Wisdom meant I knew everything there is to know. No.

Lord no—
sorry, Papa…
I glanced skyward with my apology. I’d shift focus, change my methods as I saw fit, ‘go with the flow,’ as you say, in order to accomplish my goal; and I’d do so on the fly—my favorite way to learn. Forever, the debate loomed over this topic, though. Big Papa maintained he’d created me with the gift, while I argued my wisdom came from my experiences, along with my continual study. I took pride in being a perpetual knowledge seeker, you see.

Nick popped the top on another can of that rancid liquid he’d so eagerly ingested since I’d taken post, but the litter of cans scattered behind him showed me he’d been indulging much longer. As I looked upon him, for the life of me, I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d gone awry. While his desperate mindset, along with his sordid actions, reeked of failure on my part, how the man exerting his
God-given
will inherently proved any of this was my fault, I refused to understand. I didn’t dwell further; I hadn’t the time.

“Damn it.” His voice was an angry whisper as he lowered the rifle to rest across his lap. One hand slipped under his stained T-shirt and he lifted it to his face, swiping madly and in vain at the mix of salty moisture blurring his vision.

Oh, Nick… Your perspiration isn’t the problem
.

My shoulders sagged as he reached for yet another can of what I could liken only to burrow piss. His rocking shook the well-endowed bush in which he hid, cross-legged and obviously, in dire need of some sense beat into him. Nick was once such a beautiful boy too, carefree and with a smile to die for. Of course, one look at him now, and you’d never believe it. Trading his wavy locks for that—that…if I recalled correctly, I believe it was…a crew cut. The new style did him little justice though, and his smile had faded over the past year.

Obviously, I’d underestimated the human condition with this one—his more-often-than-not pointless self-flagellation. I examined the information presented to me. The beverage’s effects were not as strong as other fermented drink; I had that much in my favor; and Nick’s thoughts, though not coinciding with his reckless actions, were quite clear.
Why? God!
Why’d you have to flirt—and in front of my brother? If Dad…
that was the core of Nick’s trouble, right there. His pathetic excuse of a father would have his own son blacklisted if he thought for a second the boy was gay.

“Bastard.” Nick crushed the can in his hand, threw it to his side, and raised the rifle once more. “I’m not like you…it’s your fault.” As before, he attempted to steady the rifle as he tried in vain to sight his target. “Fuck!”

Rifle lowered, he grabbed the untouched cans, and, with an angry growl, chucked the half-empty case behind him. The box hit with a thud outside the bushes—two or three of the cans exploded, foamy stench spraying violently from the pressure-induced fissures. With yet another expletive, he adjusted the front of his jeans.

If I could, I’d tell him his—
not-so-little-when-excited
—problem had nothing to do with the man he fixated on, but he wouldn’t listen. Rifle in both hands, he slammed the weapon, again and again, across his lap. “Damn it. Stop. Stop it!”

Nick was obviously losing his mind, bar what few cells the alcohol had left untouched. I shook my head. Though I thrived on a challenge, I’d never been one fond of pain, and before the day ended, one of us would experience great pain. Trouble was, as I viewed those bushes, I wasn’t certain it would be Nick. Big Papa knew my hatred for lilacs.

Growing more volatile by the second, Nick jerked the rifle to his shoulder, pressed his face firmly against the sight—

I appeared before him. His rifle clunked to the dirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He pushed as far back as possible with the ass of his jeans damp from the moist soil.

“Uh…
no,
” I said, not hiding my humor over his mistaken identity. Wasn’t the first time one of my charges had presumed such, but it had been a while. “The name’s Zag. Zagzagel. You may call me Zag, for short.”

“Get away from me you—you, freak.” On one knee, he snatched up his rifle and pointed it my way. “Stay back!” Swaying from the buzz, he fought to stay upright.

“Put it down, Nick.”

He jerked the rifle higher, with a shout. “Stay the fuck back! I’m not afraid to use this!”

Like hell, he wasn’t afraid…. He was so frightened he shook—visibly shook—his entire body did, including his chattering teeth. I’d be surprised if he even knew
how
to use the damned thing. He’d blown the dust off his dad’s old .22 just this morning after digging it out from the back of the closet.

“Give it up, Nick. I know you’re not this stupid.”

His grip tightened, and he shook his weapon at me. “How do you know my name?”

I stretched through a yawn. “You’d be surprised what all I know about you. Now, give me the weapon.”

“Keep away! I didn’t do anything!” With an awkward movement, he scooted backward and out from the cover of the bushes.

Thank the Lord.
Sorry….

No. On second thought, I wasn’t sorry. Papa was going to hear about
His little prank.
I emerged from the hedge far from unscathed—my itch now seven-fold. Lilac. As if suffering the damned aroma wasn’t bad enough, He’d saw fit to curse the bushes to my torment. With a quick ruffle of my feathers, tiny purple flowers scattered in the air and large teardrop-shaped leaves drifted to the grass. I stood, once again before Nick, only this time, veraciously scratching my left forearm and biting my tongue to keep from damning Big Papa, my anger at the entire situation multiplying by the second.

“Put the weapon down. Now!”

“No!”

Smothered by the rumble of the passing train, our shouts went undetected. I grabbed at the barrel and missed as he snatched the rifle to one side, teetered, toppled over, and regained his balance on both knees. I lunged and got a hold on the barrel this time. He fought for possession, like the stubborn ass he was, but I would not relinquish my hold…though I needed to get his hand away from that trigger—

Too late.

Our struggle ceased. His crazed anger morphed into fright as horror in what he’d done registered. Chamber empty, his rifle hung, barrel-first, from one of my hands. I glared as I presented him the bullet in my other. Patience gone, I disintegrated both in two bursts of flame. “I should smite you on the spot in which you cower!”

He coiled into himself, shaking, scooting away. “I-I didn’t m-mean to—I wasn’t gonna go through with it—I couldn’t—”

“Silence!”

Papa, help me!
Between Big Papa’s fucked up lilac joke and my charge’s stupidity, I was beyond sore. I fought desperately to remain calm as I grabbed Nick by an ankle and yanked him into the air.

He clawed at the earth, trying in vain to free himself. “Please. God! Don’t hurt me. Please, don’t kill me!”

“You ungrateful little prick. How dare you think you have the right to take the life of another!”

“I’m sorry! God! Please! Somebody, help me!”

“I said—”
I shook his upside down form until he vomited profusely. “Shut—the—fuck—up!” With that, I flung his sorry ass behind me where he landed with a thud, choking and gasping for air.

Only then, did reality hit; he was once again, back amidst those
cursed
lilacs. “I hope you’re happy!” I screamed into the Heavens, thankful only for the cover of the passing train.

Surveying the field, I prayed our little skirmish hadn’t attracted the attention of Nick’s infatuation. Unaware, the man now practiced kicking his ball into a wide net.

Humans. Oblivious—the lot of them.

I braved the hedges and dragged Nick into the open before releasing him. Face contorted in a bewildered stare, he sat speechless, but I sought to keep him that way. “If you know what’s good for you—”

“Please….” He lunged at me, embracing me at the knees. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry…oh, God… I wasn’t going to do it. I swear!”

Why must these creatures always be so dramatic? I sighed.

Nick continued to weep. “Forgive me…please. God. Forgive me.” He kissed my feet, one and then the other, over and again, his bristly hairs tickling my shins with each pass and
—Lord no. Not the shins…not my—

“Enough!” Despite my momentary lapse in judgment, or maybe because of it, I fought even harder to stay focused. Of course, no one but me knew my shins were forever my Achilles’ heel. I lifted Nick by an arm and pointed to a patch of freshly mown grass a few feet behind us and
away
from those damned bushes. “Sit.”

As the last car of the train rumbled out of view, I produced a thermos and handed it to Nick as I squatted beside him.

“Where’d you—?”

“Drink!” At my glare, he shut up, looked away, and began unscrewing the cap.

While he’d been mindlessly staring at the train, I’d
procured
the thermos of java from a street vendor down the road. How, was entirely none of his business. I’d be damned if I explained to him my means or my motives; I’d heard the rumors these creatures one day taking over. We all had. Come hell or high water, I had no intentions of cross-training anyone. Despite my grumblings, job security was at the top of my list.

Nick’s hands quivered as he brought the steaming brew—a much better brew than what he’d been sucking down the last few hours—to his lips.

“They have programs for that, you know.”

He finished his tentative sip before addressing me. “I’m in one,” he said, blowing away the steam.

I knew that—okay, fine. Admittedly, I had no clue of his self-help program until now, but I’d be damned if I confessed that I’d let something so relevant slip by me.

“My brother made me go…last week,” he added.