“Very much something like that, yes.”
“Hmm. Worth a rethink.”
“I have rethought it,” said Will, “and it’s the only possible explanation.”
“You might want to have another gander at that room in the basement before you count your chickens—”
“As a matter of fact, that’s where I’m headed right now,” said Will, putting on his winter duds. “So, no offense, in the interest of my mental health, I can’t pay attention to you. You’re a ‘symptom.’ A stress-related coping mechanism—”
“Fascinating theory.”
“But things are going to settle down, eventually—because they have to—and when they do, you’re just going to disappear. Poof. For good.”
Will headed for the door. But this time Dave didn’t dematerialize out of his path. Will ran right into him. Dave felt as real as a slab of industrial steel.
“Think what you like, mate. I’m just trying to give you the straight guff.”
“Please get out of my way,” said Will.
“You’ve had your two bobs’ worth; now you’d better hear me out before I lose my temper—”
“I’m leaving now.” Will reached past him for the doorknob.
A blinding light filled the room. Will staggered back as Dave transformed into another, much larger, being. His head touched the ceiling. His broad frame obscured the door. He looked like he could crush a Mini Cooper in his fists. His whole body glowed with a white-hot righteous fury that was impossible to look at, but Will couldn’t turn away. The towering figure wore what looked like platinum armor and he held a gleaming blue sword in one hand.
Dave leaned over and roared in Will’s face, “Sit down and shut yer bloody yapper!”
The thunderous blast of his voice lifted Will off the floor. He flew backward into his desk chair, which rolled across the room and crashed into the far wall.
“Okay,” said Will, stunned, ears ringing.
Dave disappeared. Suddenly he was leaning against the wall next to Will’s chair, calm, collected, and back to his usual dimensions and physical appearance.
“Here’s ground zero, mate: You’re not half-cracked. On the contrary, this is all on the level and you’re up to your neck in the mullock. And you’re not the only one they’re after. I’m at risk, too. We all are, our whole side of the field. There’s a war going on, and you’re smack in the middle.”
Dave reached down, gripped Will’s shoulder, lifted him gently in the air, and spoke right in his face. Will shrank back, going limp.
“You’re in a riptide, Will, and the power and scope of forces at work here are as far beyond your comprehension as eternity is to an earthworm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Our usual policy is to let the client figure things out afterward, but given the urgency of your situation, they’ve given me the green light to tell you who I am.”
Dave deposited him on the bed and showed him a partially burned identification badge. “Staff Sergeant Dave Gunner. I was a chopper pilot with ANZAC, as you’ve correctly inferred. Special Forces. Vietnam.”
Dave pointed to the insignia on the back of his flight jacket and the three images inside: the helmet of a knight, the red kangaroo, the silhouette of a helicopter. “Flew sixty-five combat missions,” he said. “Went down over Pleiku in 1969. Rear rotor came a cropper. Catastrophic mechanical failure.”
“So what are you saying?” asked Will, his whole body shaking involuntarily.
“We didn’t make it,” said Dave, and for a moment he seemed almost wistful. “Me, Digger, Fat Philly, the whole crew. And wouldn’t you know it, buzzard’s luck—two days after the best weekend of my life, when I fell in love on the white sand beaches of Nha Trang with Miss Nancy Hughes, Ensign First Class, US Navy Nurse Corps, from Santa Monica, California.”
Will had no idea why he said what he said next. “But you drive a hot rod.”
“Once you reach my rank, you’re allowed a personalized vehicle. After my chopper went down, I opted for something lower to the ground.”
“So you’re saying … you’re a ghost?”
“No, mate,” said Dave. “Categorically speaking, dead, yes, insofar as I’ve had that experience, but we’re still material beings. Or we can be, depending on the circumstance. Not a ghost. Entirely different kettle of fish.”
“What are you, then?”
Dave took out his cube; three-dimensional images of what appeared to be heavenly warriors materialized in the air before Will. “Neither here nor there, but somewhere in between. They’ve coined a number of terms for us down the ages: Wayfarers, Secondaries, Celestial Templars.”
Will finally took in a breath. “So you’re … not just a dead helicopter pilot?”
Dave heaved a sigh. “Let’s keep it simple,” he said patiently. “This is a high-priority assignment. We caught wind of it two days ago: The Other Team was looking hard and wide for a particular kid. One, it turns out, whom we had our own good reasons to be interested in. And they were moving heaven and earth—for reasons not yet entirely clear—to find him before we did.”
Will was afraid to move. “You mean …”
“I mean you. You may have chanced to notice this already, Will, but the nasties from the Never-Was are trying to kill you,” said Dave gently. “In the rare instances we’re allowed to tell the client who we are—and this is a first for me personally—they encourage us to use a simple term that you can better relate to. Common parlance. Even though it’s completely inadequate to convey the exact nature of our relationship.”
“So what are you, then?” asked Will, filling with more dread than at any time in the last two days.
“I’m your guardian angel,” said Dave.
Someone knocked softly on the door.
“That’ll do for now,” said Dave.
Then he disappeared.
OceanofPDF.com
THE OTHER LOCKER ROOM
Will unlocked and opened his door. Ajay and Nick stood just outside, wearing coats, hats, and scarves.
“You ready, Will?” asked Nick.
“Yes,” said Will, still numb. He stumbled past them toward the kitchen, and they tagged along. “Where are we going?”
“The Barn,” said Nick. “You’re gonna show us that spooky room in the basement.”
“Right,” said Will.
“I’m bringing some gear along that I think might be useful,” said Ajay, studying him. “Are you all right, Will?”
Will picked up a bottle of water and drained it. “I’m good. I’m fine.”
“You look kind of … sketchy,” said Nick.
“You look, actually, like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Ajay.
Good guess. “I’m your guardian angel.” Yeah, close enough. I’m in shock. Not a good time to be alone. Go with them. Stay calm.
“Did you guys hear anything?” asked Will. “In my room just now? Like thunder, or …”
“No,” said Ajay.
“Okay,” said Will, and moved to the front door.
“Uh, dude, you might want to grab your coat?” said Nick.
“How would a person know if they’re going crazy?” asked Will.
“The usual,” said Ajay. “Hearing disembodied voices. Rampant paranoia. Visions of hallucinatory figures, often of an overtly religious nature.”
How reassuring.
Will, Ajay, and Nick hurried across the commons, hands shoved in their pockets, huddled against the frigid night air. Will had broken out his new blue winter parka, wearing it over his fleece pullover, a shirt, and long underwear. And he was still freezing. The big clock atop Royster Hall said it was nearly nine, but the halogen streetlamps along the paths lit the grounds like daylight.
“I always fall back on the Robin Williams rule,” said Nick.