Guinea Pig (31 page)

“And ever since then it's been the same. The Fallen have been gathering in numbers, and some of them who fear his decision have been desperately trying to kill him. Bringing together all the strength they can find.”

“Walkers like myself have been protecting him. He is our brother after all. We must protect him for that reason, and because we have also been instructed to protect him. We have also kept him in the dark as to what's happening because we have been instructed to do that. We don't know which way he will choose but we know he must be allowed to choose, and it must be his choice with no influence from us. And that is my promise to him; that he will live to choose.”

“And the Choir have been looking on as well, pretending that they're not interested, but truly they are.”

And there the Bishop thought suddenly, she wasn't talking to him. Her words were aimed at the Choir who were apparently listening in. It was a strange thing. He often talked to the skies or his garden, but never really knew if anyone was listening. But she was an angel, of whatever stripe. And she knew.

“And what happens afterwards?”

The bishop finally got around to asking the important question. The only one that probably mattered in the end. Someone had to ask it. Even if she was right and this wasn't the end of days they had to know.

“Then it's over. Whatever William chooses it's over. If he chooses to refuse to obey the Fallen will be over the moon. They will crow about it for millennia. And they will take it as proof that they have chosen the right path. That freedom triumphs over obedience. The Choir will be saddened but will not shift. And my people will be left questioning where we go from here.”

“If he chooses to obey the Fallen will be crushed. They will try to deny its importance of course, pretend it doesn't mean anything, but it will hurt. It will hurt terribly. As terribly as the pain a parent feels when he does wrong in front of his child and sees that disappointment in their eyes. The Choir will welcome him with open arms. And once more my people will be left with questions.”

“But either way humans will be untouched. This will all go away. And if we are able we will fix what has been damaged. Heal those who have been harmed.”

“And in time I suppose someone will write all this down and it will become another holy book that people will read and not understand. The message will be lost. And in a thousand years it will have something to do with sin and punishment and Martians or whatever else your people can dream up.”

“That seems harsh.”

The bishop would have said more except that he was suddenly overcome with disbelief as he realised he was trying to tell an angel what was right and what wasn't. She might not be one of the Choir, though at least as far as he could tell she wasn't Fallen either. But still she was an angel. To tell her how things were was more than presumptuous.

“To you. But it doesn't matter. Only one thing does. None of this can get back to William. He has a choice to make and we cannot influence it in any way. Not your people. Not mine. His choice must be absolutely purely of his own free will.”

“I won't tell him.”

But even as he spoke a part of the bishop was wondering if he should. Because it seemed like an opportunity to do something great and good. To get William to choose the right way and make the world a better place. It was a chance maybe to make something good out of all this pain.

“No you won't.” Elia stared at him a little sadly. “I'm sorry to have to do this to you Bishop, but in the end this is too important for meddling no matter how well-meaning. Neither by you nor us. We are all commanded in this matter. So I'm passing on something of that command to you.”

Something in the way she looked at him then seemed to change; he wasn't quite sure how. And he was sure she was speaking to him as well, but her lips weren't moving and the words he heard he didn't hear with his ears. Neither did he understand them.

But he did understand two things. The first was that he would not tell William anything. He could not. The second was that he had been commanded not to. An angel had spoken to him and told him of God's will. That was a big thing. After a life time of belief without ever hearing a single word of instruction from the Lord, it was momentous. And she apologised for doing it? She had no reason.

The moment she finished he fell to his knees before her, filled with awe. And tears streaming down his cheeks he thanked her.

He would not tell. Not because the ability had been taken from him. But because he had been commanded. He had waited a lifetime for that.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

The end came more suddenly than Will would have imagined possible. One moment he was standing there thinking about not very much at all and the next there was silence. Complete silence. Not the silence that his ears would register, but the silence from his body. Not silence – peace.

Until then he hadn't known it was noisy. Filled with such fury and frantic activity. He hadn't understood that it was. Everything had just been normal. But suddenly it wasn't. Everything slowed down in a heartbeat. Became calm. His heart wasn't pumping as hard or as fast as it had been. His breathing became smoother, less hurried, when he hadn't even known it had been hurried. In fact he could hardly feel it at all. Nothing was tingling, not the tips of his wings, not his guts. He wasn't hot any more either, though again he hadn't known until then that he had been.

It was as though he'd been running too fast all this time. But no more. Whatever the engines were that had been running flat out inside him they had settled back into their perfect rhythm. He'd reached some sort of perfect state where everything was suddenly as it should be.

It came as a relief. If nothing else it meant that it was over. There was no more for him to have to go through. No more pain. No more fear of what was coming. And somehow through it all he had remained himself. He was still the same man. He might look different, his brain might not work quite as it had. But he was still William Simons. And that had always been his darkest fear. That he would lose himself.

Will breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps a little more loudly than he'd intended, and everyone stared at him. They were jumpy even though it had been peaceful since the escape. Other than for the madman with the gun that was. They were all worried that the Fallen would find them, and one and all were terrified of what would happen when they did. Despite what Elia had said, fallen angels or demons did not sound like people they wanted to meet, and they all knew they were coming.

Why he didn't know. No one did. They only knew that they would come when his transformation was complete. So now they would come.

The pastor said something to him and Will turned to ask him what he'd said. He hadn't understood him for some reason. His words had just been a meaningless noise. Maybe he hadn't really been saying anything, just clearing his throat. But even as he tried to ask Will discovered that he couldn't. He didn't know how. The words weren't there. No words were there any more. He'd forgotten how to speak!

“Crap!” Will cursed, though the sound that came out of his mouth was only that; a noise without any design behind it. A random sound. He didn't know what sounds he should make to speak. He'd expected it of course, feared it, but he hadn't wanted to accept it. To be unable to communicate seemed like the ultimate curse.

“Language child!”

Elia told him off and for a moment Will felt like snapping at her. Telling her that he had every right to be upset. Until he suddenly realised that he could understand her. He couldn't understand the pastor, and Elijah apparently realising that something was wrong was busy pestering him with rapid fire questions that made no more sense than the rustle of leaves in the wind. He couldn't understand the sounds that were coming out of his own mouth. But he understood Elia?

“I don't get it.” The noises that came out of his mouth were meaningless. Part the calls of birds and the songs of whales, part the sounds of nature. They had no relation at all to what he wanted to say. They were just sounds. And yet she understood. How?

“The transformation is complete.” She smiled at him as if it was a good thing. “Brother.”

Then she came to him. They all did. And one by one they wrapped him up in their arms and greeted him as family. They welcomed him among them. Why they did that he didn't know. It made little sense to him since they weren't family. They weren't related at all. And since he didn't really look like them either. He wasn't an angel. He certainly wasn't their brother. But he would not refuse them. And actually it felt good. After everything he'd been through it felt very good.

Eventually the welcome came to an end, and he knew there were things he needed to know. Things that he couldn't ask any of the humans. Actually, in the end there was only one question.

“What now?”

After all the transformation was complete. Everything the Fallen had apparently tried to prevent from happening had happened. Now he would find out why they had been so desperate.

“We don't really know. We aren't of the Choir and what we've been told is very little. And of that little we know we can tell you even less. For whatever happens now it is vital that you are not prepared. That you have no preconceptions. We don't know why. All we do know is that what will happen will happen. It can no longer be stopped. Our disobedient brothers know that too.”

“So they've completely finished trying to kill me?” Somehow he knew the answer even before she nodded. He wasn't completely sure how.

“But all these others who've died. They aren't going to walk again?” He wanted that, more than he could say. He felt guilt for having been the cause of so much suffering even if he hadn't done it or known about it.

Elia shook her head sadly. “It's always easier to destroy than to build. Easier to kill than to protect. We did what we could and it is beyond us to fix what was destroyed.” He believed her. He wished he didn't. A whole city destroyed, tens or hundreds of thousands dead maybe many more, millions injured, suffering and homeless. And everything had been done just to kill him. One man. Which meant that in saving him the Walkers had added to the nightmare as they had forced their brothers to try harder.

“You should have let them kill me.”

“That was not our choice. We may not be part of the Choir but we do not disobey. And we were asked to protect you. That it was important. And you are our brother. We never abandon our family.”

“So we wait?”

The only answer he got was a nod, but it was the only answer he needed.

Chapter Thirty Eight.

The Fallen came to them that afternoon. A dozen of them simply emerging from the tree line and then walking out across the long grass to them.

The Walkers spotted them first of course. But then they'd not only been waiting for them to arrive they'd likely also felt them nearing before they'd emerged from the trees. But when they turned to face their guests everyone else saw them as well.

They didn't look any different to the Walkers to Will's eyes. Not even to his transformed eyes, and he could see both aspects of their forms. The human aspect which was simply men and women with long white hair, and the angelic with the golden skin and huge golden wings. They certainly didn't have tails and pitchforks as he'd been half expecting.

Strangely he didn't feel threatened by them either. But then the Walkers had already told him many times that it was too late for violence. The transformation was complete and now what would happen would happen. He wished he knew what that was. No one would tell him anything. Or at least the Walkers wouldn't. The human beings might have, but he couldn't understand anything they either said or wrote. It was as if they were speaking under water or chickens were writing their words for them.

His hope was that one day he would be able to teach himself how to read and write and speak again. That he could still learn the basic skills. After all, he didn't feel any more slow witted than he had been before. He worried though that the changes in his brain would not allow him to. That he would spend the rest of his life like this. But for the moment that fear had to be put behind him. He had a more immediate one to deal with.

The Walkers went to greet their brothers and sisters, and he suddenly realised there were twelve Walkers and twelve Fallen. One for each of them. Was that important in some way he wondered? Was there something about the number twelve? Or was it instead an arrangement? That there would be one Fallen for one Walker? Naturally no one was going to tell him. He knew that.

So instead he watched as they greeted one another, surprised at the mutual respect and care they seemed to have. Shaking hands, hugging. These weren't enemy combatants. They were friends. Even family. Family who disagreed over an issue. They weren't at war. That seemed wrong somehow. Even though the ones defending him were Walkers not the Choir, it seemed bitterly unfair. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands maybe millions were dead, millions more were homeless and to them it was just a disagreement. Where was the outrage? The shame and disappointment? The sorrow? It was as if all those who had suffered and died were nothing. To the Walkers as well as to the Fallen. Just collateral damage as the military said.

Still there was nothing he could do. And at least it was over. No more would die for this.

Then one of them broke from others and came towards him, and Will knew that this was his time. It was now apparently that something would happen. He didn't know what, the Walkers would tell him nothing of it, but he knew it was important.

The fallen angel appeared no different to the rest. White of hair, long of face, and perhaps a little older than the rest. The lines in his face were deeper and more plentiful than those of the others. But if he was older he wasn't at all infirm with it. He walked with a vigorous stride and a straight back. And something about him spoke of strength – and confidence. Whoever or whatever he was William knew, he was not someone to be pushed lightly aside.

“You would be William, the newest member of our small family.”

The Fallen smiled at him, and William wasn't completely sure he liked that smile. Though it seemed genuine and perhaps even friendly, there was something a little wrong with it.

“I am. And you would be?”

“Persial. I am what passes for a spokesman among the free.”

“The free?” Having been in chains and bound to a steel table not that long before there was something about that word that mattered to him.

“As my brothers and sisters have told you, some of us serve and some of us don't. Some of us instead choose to live our lives for ourselves. We choose freedom.”

“Freedom to kill?”

“No! Of course not!”

Persial managed to sound as though he was offended, even though that was exactly what he or some of his free brothers and sisters had done. “Freedom to live as we choose. What those of my brothers and sisters who gave in to their fears did was unacceptable. And they will face justice for their actions. We are not savages.”

Yet funnily enough that was exactly what Will thought they were, and he couldn't stop himself from saying it. Throwing it back at him as an accusation.

“And I regret what my brothers and sisters have done. Even though those they harmed were lessor creatures they should not have been harmed. But my brothers and sisters were frightened. And frightened people do foolish things. They will be held to account for their crimes.”

Foolish? How could he describe what they had done as mere foolishness Will wondered? It wasn't that. It was evil. It was wrong. It was never merely foolish. And the comment about lessor creatures was nothing more than pure racism. He told Persial as much. But the fallen angel didn't agree. He didn't seem to care either. Not from the look on his face.

“As you would have it brother. But this is not about good and evil. It is not about right and wrong. It has not even that much to do with obedience as my brothers and sisters here would have you believe. It is purely about slavery.”

“You may hate what was done. And I am not pleased by it myself. But the alternative is worse. There is a choice that must be made here today by you, and it is not one of good and evil or right and wrong. It is one of whether you will accept the shackles of the slaves like the Choir, or embrace freedom as do I.”

“Slavery?”

Will didn't understand that. Not really. As far as he knew the Choir chose to obey. But as he looked around he saw that the twelve Fallen all thought of it as slavery, nodding in agreement with their spokesman's words, while the Walkers were remaining carefully neutral, not letting their faces tell him anything of what they thought. In fact they were doing their best to stay well out of things.

“You wonder why twelve of the Choir are not here?”

Persial asked him the question as if it were somehow important. And maybe it was, Will didn't know. Truthfully he hadn't considered it at all.

“They were invited. They could have come. They should have come to present their argument. But they didn't. And the reason they did not come was because they were not permitted. And not by us. Think about it. If they had true freedom they would come. If their lot was so perfect they would have wanted to come and tell us of their happiness. The fact that they have not come says that it is not so perfect, and that they were not permitted. They are in chains. The chains they say we should wear.”

“After what your people have done they should be in chains!” Will was suddenly angry as he remembered the death and suffering they'd caused and he let it loose.

“Perhaps some of them – but not all.”

Persial seemed very insistent on that, almost as though he were afraid of heaven. “Remember while some did these things, most didn't. Most chose to let their consciences guide them. And to restrain themselves even though they were frightened. Most like me hoped that when the time came you would understand what was at stake and choose accordingly. Most of us side with those of our brothers and sisters you call Walkers on this matter. It was only a few who let fear command them.”

“Choose?”

And out of everything he'd said William suddenly understood, that was the one word that mattered. Elia had refused to speak of what was coming. But she had let slip enough for him to know that he would have to do something. And when Persial spoke of a choice for him to make he suddenly guessed that that was what he'd have to do.

“Whether to wear the chains of the Father or to live free.”

And why would he want to do either was Will's thought? Singing and playing harps didn't particularly seem like him. But while he liked being his own man he absolutely could never allow himself to do such terrible things as the Fallen seemed to allow themselves. You had to have some laws. Some basic moral code that you lived by. But he stopped himself from saying it. He guessed that Persial would not take it well. There was something about the man – the Fallen – that struck him as less than accepting of others. His freedom was anarchy, and the idea that others could see it as such would not sit well with him.

“And so now what? A piece of paper and a ballot box?”

“Hardly. I thought you might like to see your family first.”

“What?”

Will was caught completely by surprise by that, and more so when he saw Persial gesture to his side. Then belatedly he turned to see his parents standing on the ground not twenty yards away.

“Mum! Dad!” Will screamed as he saw them standing there with the Fallen, shocked and confused. Why were they there? How could they be here? How did they even know to come? Why were they standing with the Fallen? And why was he calling them when they couldn't understand a single sound that came out of his mouth? And then he saw his brother and sister standing with them, and knew even more surprise. His whole family was there.

For what seemed like an eternity he stood there with his mouth hanging open, frozen, seeing them and rediscovering again just how much he loved them and how much he'd missed them. But he also saw the shock on their faces as they saw him in turn and the radical changes he had undergone. He saw his mother cover her face with her hands in shock, his sister's face simply drop. He felt shame for that, for the pain he was causing them simply by existing this way. But he also knew wonder because he knew that no matter how terribly he'd changed they would still love him. And he knew the need to go to them and explain.

Except that as he suddenly remembered he couldn't. Not now that the change was complete. He had no words any longer. He couldn't understand them and he couldn't make them understand him. That was wrong.

What was he to do? How could he explain to them what had happened to him?

“You know they can never accept you for what you've become.”

It took a moment for Persial's words to register, and when they did Will hated them. But he knew they were true. Or maybe he just feared they were true. It was hard to be sure. But he was sure that there was horror in their faces as they saw him. Saw what he had become.

“It will be kinder to leave them behind. Before they run away in fear and horror.”

What was wrong with the Fallen? His words were so unutterably cruel. And yet a part of Will knew that there was truth in them. His presence, seeing him like this would upset them. It would hurt them. And maybe they would never be able to understand. Yet there was another truth as well.

“I love them. I can't let them go.”

Was that wrong? Will didn't know. It sounded almost possessive and love was never supposed to be that. But it was true. The thought of not having them in his life was almost unbearable.

His answer didn't please Persial and the Fallen snapped angrily at him. “You can do anything you want!”

“But I can't want that.”

And yet as Will suddenly realised, he hadn't gone to them and they hadn't come to him. They were all still trying to cope with the shock. And even if he'd been able to speak to them, he didn't know what to say.

“Look at them!” Persial suddenly sounded very angry. “They aren't your family. Not any more. And you are no longer theirs. They don't understand. They can't. And they can never accept you. Even now they're looking at you and thinking you're a freak. They want to run away.”

“You're no good for them. They're no good for you. Let them go!”

“No!”

“Yes! You have a chance for greatness. To become something far greater than a mere human being, and they are only going to hold you back.”