Chasing Sunsets (13 page)

Shamika was still screaming. “Someone help us! No, God, not my boy! Please not my boy!”

Marcus could see him. There was blood everywhere as he knelt next to Shamika. Jalen wasn’t moving and now Marcus could see where the blood was coming from. The boy had been hit in the back of his head. He had probably turned when he heard Marcus yell and now . . .

Dear God, no . . . not this child, please!
“Has someone called nine-one-one?” he shouted, desperate.

“They’re on their way,” one of the parent volunteers answered.

Across from him working on the child was the woman who had knocked him to the ground. It was Aspyn. One of the
volunteers. She had her hands on Jalen’s chest, giving him CPR. Then, as if she could sense Marcus looking at her—despite the screaming and crying happening all around—she looked straight at him. “Pray.” She continued her efforts to save Jalen’s life. “Pray for the boy. Pray in Jesus’ name.”

Marcus stared at the boy. Someone had to stop the bleeding. He took off his shirt and put it against the child’s head. He didn’t know CPR, but Aspyn seemed capable.

Pressing the shirt against the boy’s skull, Marcus tuned out the wailing and shouting and took hold of Shamika’s hand. “Let’s pray.”

“I can’t lose him!” Her words were a panicked scream. “He’s all I have. Please . . . God, please!”

Marcus had never been in a situation like this. He wanted to rewind the clock and have this moment over again. If only he could’ve stopped Shamika before she walked outside. The bullet intended for him had hit Jalen instead. It was more than he could bear.

But even with all of that, even desperate for Jalen to survive, Marcus knew Aspyn was right. They had to pray. The blood was spreading. He couldn’t watch. Marcus closed his eyes and raised his voice, raised it above the crying and shouting and sounds of the approaching sirens. “We need a miracle, Lord. Please, don’t let him die. Please . . . save his life. Please, help us! God, I beg you!”

Shamika was sobbing now, but she managed to say, “Amen. Jesus, please, amen.”

The ambulance pulled up and paramedics rushed through the crowd. Marcus sat back on the grass and watched as Jalen was whisked onto a stretcher. Shamika stayed with him, run
ning alongside the men as they took her baby to the ambulance.

He should’ve taken that bullet. Not Jalen.

Behind him he heard Tyler’s voice. But at the same time another set of paramedics rushed up and surrounded him. “Marcus, you’ve been hit. You need to get to the hospital.”

His leg? He wanted to tell them he’d be fine. “Go find the shooter. Someone find him!” That’s all that mattered now.

Tyler was at his side. “Man, it’s a nasty wound. You gotta get in.”

“The boy . . .” Marcus stared at the place where the ambulance carrying Jalen had disappeared. “Pray for the boy.”

“We will.” Tyler squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll bring Sami and Mary Catherine. We’ll meet you at the hospital.”

The paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher. Marcus looked back as they carried him toward a second ambulance and a sudden thought hit him. What about Aspyn? How had the woman known Marcus was about to be hit? She had shoved him to the ground and then just as quickly she was at Jalen’s side doing CPR. As if she’d known all this was about to happen. Was she someone connected to the gang? Did she have inside information?

Marcus would tell the police to talk to her. Just in case she knew something. In case she could lead them to the shooter. He scanned the crowd looking for her. Aspyn had volunteered at the center Saturday night. She was a pretty woman, thin with long, straightened hair and green eyes. She must’ve gone back inside the building.

Because she was nowhere in sight.

The paramedics loaded Marcus into the waiting ambu
lance and he closed his eyes. How could this have happened? It was supposed to be a fun night for the kids. This was supposed to help the gang problem here on the streets of LA. Everything they’d done, the time and money and prayers for this place. It was supposed to make a difference.

Instead, little Jalen was fighting for his life.

13

J
AG WAS FURIOUS.

He knew Angels Walking were required to stay in control emotionally, but he was seriously struggling. He exhaled and replayed the truth in his mind. Angels on earth could feel human emotions. Anger. Fear. Sorrow—all were possible, especially when angels took on human form. By the power of God, an angel walking on earth had to control himself.

That had never been a problem before. Jag had been on many missions over time. The successful mission he and Aspyn had done during World War II, for instance. They had rescued a pilot shot down over Germany. Destruction, hate, violence.

None of it had moved Jag the way this had.

The futility of kids shooting kids. The same gang violence that had killed Terrance Williams.

Jag steadied his breathing. He waited with Aspyn across the street from the youth center. How could this have hap
pened again? The entire mission was in jeopardy. They had known the shooting was possible. He and Aspyn were both on site, ready to intervene, and Jag had done what he could to delay Dwayne. He had disabled the kid’s vehicle. But apparently not well enough. Because the shooting had still happened.

Just like ten years ago.

Either way, right now they didn’t have time to wonder about what went wrong. Jag had a job to do.

He wanted Dwayne Davis behind bars. Where he belonged, according to man’s law. Where he could do no further harm to mankind.

“Aspyn.” He looked straight at her. “You did the right thing. You saved Marcus. I’m the one who failed.”

“No.” Aspyn’s eyes were damp with tears. “You did what you could. Police mean nothing to Dwayne.”

Anger stirred in Jag’s heart again. “If it were up to me . . .”

“Don’t.” She touched his shoulder. “We need to stay focused.” A tear slid down her cheek and she caught it with the back of her hand. “This feeling . . . the sadness. It’s the hardest part of being on mission. So much heartache here on earth.”

“Exactly.” Jag willed the strength of God to settle his being.

Across the street the teens were still milling about; Officer Kent seemed to have things under control. He was dispersing the young people, telling them to go home.

Jag turned back to Aspyn. “We will ask the Father for a miracle where the child is concerned.”

Aspyn nodded. “I didn’t see this coming. I thought the boy was out of the way. I thought—”

“It’s okay. We don’t know all things.” This was the hardest part of being an angel. Having more knowledge than humans, more power. But not nearly the knowledge or power of the Father. God alone knew when someone would be called home, when a person’s time on earth ran out.

But why allow angels to intervene if people were going to die anyway? Again Jag forced himself to relax.
Stay controlled, Jag
,
he told himself
. Keep the mission in mind.
One day the answers would be clear, even to angels. For now they were to do their jobs, carry out their assignments.

“I want to be at the hospital.” Aspyn straightened.

“You should go.” Jag studied her. She looked stronger than before. She would come back and she would work as hard as possible to see the mission accomplished. Jag had no doubt.

Aspyn looked at him, her eyes still filled with sorrow. “The most important thing is prayer. Always.”

“You go. I have another matter to tend to.”

“Jag.” Her voice held the familiar warning. “Be careful. Work in God’s strength. Don’t let human emotions guide you.”

Her words hit their mark. He clenched his fists and relaxed them again. “I won’t.” He exhaled. “The mission is God’s. Not ours.”

“Exactly.” She nodded to him. “See you soon. Stay low.”

With that they were both gone. Jag felt the sense of purpose deep inside him. He needed to stay hidden better. Aspyn was right about that, too. Angels Walking had to stay invisible as much as possible. Sure, they had to materialize. That was part of the mission. And when they took on human form, sons and daughters of Adam might wonder. Christians familiar with God’s word knew that sometimes they would entertain
angels unaware. But too many displays—like not being harmed by flying bullets—and people wouldn’t wonder. They would know. God sent His angels to clandestinely work as messengers and protectors among His people. So that He would get the glory. Otherwise humans might worship angels and miss the One who created them.

Almost as soon as he left the spot in front of the youth center, Jag arrived two blocks away, invisible, just down the street from Dwayne and Lexy, who were standing on the sidewalk outside his car. Angels had keen hearing—so Jag could clearly hear Dwayne cursing Lexy, threatening her.

Anger filled Jag again. He wouldn’t let the young man hurt the girl. She was important to the mission. He moved closer to Dwayne. Why so much hatred? How could one created in the very image of God be so full of evil? Jag heard a rush of movement in the air around him. A cold wind came with the sound and in a blur the street was filled with demons. Hissing. Laughing. Taunting him and pushing their way closer to Dwayne.

Then suddenly—as if Dwayne could sense the dark support around him—he raised the gun and pointed it straight at Lexy’s head.

JAG HAD TO
act quickly. He instantly moved to the pay phone near the bar a block away. He slipped into a tight spot between two houses and materialized as the towering blond officer.

Jag stepped up to the pay phone and dialed 911.

The operator answered on the first ring. “What’s your emergency?”

“I’m an officer. I know who tried to kill Marcus Dillinger.”

“Identify yourself.”

“I’ll give you the address. I’m in a hurry.” He quickly rattled off the information. “Send several squad cars. You don’t have long.” He hung up and stepped into the shadows, and instantly he was back on the street with Dwayne and Lexy, invisible. The entire phone call had taken mere seconds.

The demons were closing in on Dwayne and Lexy. A team so murderous and dark. Treacherous and evil. The smell of death hung in the air. One of the demons dug its invisible claws into Dwayne’s back.

Jag breathed deep.
I need you, Jesus . . .

Instantly he was in the midst of the demons. “Go!” He held both hands toward the evil spirits. “Go now!”

One of them hissed and his spiky wings brushed up against Jag. “Fight us, mighty warrior. Our time is short. These two belong to us.”

Again Jag felt the rush of anger. This wasn’t right. Nothing should stop an angel, not unless . . . What was he thinking? How could he forget?

The name of Jesus.

“In the name of Jesus, be gone!” The humans couldn’t hear him, but his voice boomed through another dimension. “Now!”

At the sound of the name of Jesus, the demons withered in size, shrinking back, repulsed, wounded. And instantly the evil band disappeared. They would find someone else to torment tonight.

He stepped out of hiding directly behind Dwayne and Lexy, this time as the police officer again. “Stop.” His voice pierced the night air. “Both of you! Police!”

“What the—” Dwayne spun around and pulled his gun.

Jag covered the ground between them in fractions of a second and grabbed the gun from Dwayne.

Jag looked at the pistol in his hand and felt a surge of power.
So this is what it’s like?
he thought. He ran his thumb over the handle. He pointed the gun at the teenager. He could kill Dwayne now, but there would be eternal consequences.

It wouldn’t take much. The slightest pull on the trigger and Dwayne would no longer be a threat. Jag was breathing harder. He ran his finger along the smooth metal at the center of the gun.
One pull . . . just one.

Suddenly Lexy cried out, “Jesus, help us!”

Jesus.

At the sound of His name, Jag instantly came to his senses. He felt a heavenly calm wash over him and he moved his finger from the trigger. He would not shoot. Not now. Not ever. The sound of sirens in the distance told him it wouldn’t be long. Help was on the way.