The Angel Angle

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The sunshine made the day hot, and the humidity made it hotter. This didn’t stop the faithful from rallying together to hear their favorite son speak on how he was the best candidate to bring change to the Senate in Washington, DC. George Williamston was about to take the stage in his hometown of Forward, North Carolina. Almost everyone knew him as he was the owner of the Williamston Hardware Store located on Main Street. He was popular among the people in town, and this resulted in this being the largest number to attend one of his campaign rallies.

I’m Henry Jacobs, a reporter for the World News Service. I was assigned to cover Williamston as punishment because my boss, Alvin Rowse, was mad at me. He didn’t like that we were the last news agency to offer firsthand reporting on the earthquake in Greece this spring. It wasn’t my fault as I was in Fairbanks, Alaska when it happened, and the airport closed before my plane could take off. We were only delayed a couple hours, but it was enough to make me the last news reporter for a large outlet to arrive in Greece and start reporting. Alvin could’ve sent his son who was in Italy at the time, but he couldn’t get ahold of him, and I suspect, his son would have refused to go anyway. So, all his anger was directed at me. At first, I thought he was going to fire me, but in the end, he sent me off to cover the Williamston Senate run. Everyone knew he didn’t have much chance at being elected, and there would be little to nothing to report on. I knew that was why I was sent to report on him.

George Williamston is a quiet and likable guy. He stands six feet tall with sandy hair and brown eyes. His wife Lisa is as tall as him with short black hair and brown eyes, too.  They have no children. George inherited the hardware store from his parents after growing up working there. Not only has he kept the family business going, but it has thrived quite well under his ownership. It’s the only job he’s ever had.

In an interview, I asked him, “Why did you decide to run for office against the incumbent, Senator Thomas Lowery?”

He answered, “Like most North Carolinians, I’ve seen politicians elected and go to Washington on big promises. But it seems it’s not long before they’ve fallen into the same traps all the others there have. They get used to the big donor money, and soon they’re doing the business of the lobbyists. I want to change that and let my actions as Senator reflect on what the people of North Carolina want.” The cynic in me thought at the time, if by chance he did get elected, he would have a lot to learn about our nation’s capital and how to politically survive there.

I’d followed him throughout the state, reporting on what most everyone considered a lackluster campaign. There was no reason to complain as it was my job, and it paid my bills. This was the first time he was actively campaigning in his hometown. Forward is a small rural town in the middle of the eastern area of the state. It has a Main Street and a few side streets, where the homes are located, but not much else. All the stores are located on Main Street including Williamston Hardware. There is one stop light and two cautions in the whole town. It has a nice, warm and comfortable feel with friendly people and small-town values.

On that hot August midday afternoon there were more people at the rally than the population of Forward. It appeared as if everyone in town was in attendance with many more coming in from the surrounding county. Mayor Cubbins gave a ringing endorsement and then welcomed George to the lectern. It was easy to see, he was very popular in his hometown and county. One resident told me he liked George because he always treated people fairly. Another said if you needed something but didn’t have the money, George would let you pay him along as you could, and never hassle you about the payments. A lady said if George was busy and couldn’t help someone, then Lisa would be there instead. In fact, she claimed Lisa did as much if not more for the community than George did.

I must admit, my attention perked up as this was the most enthusiasm I had seen since I’d started covering his campaign. The thought did cross my mind that if he could stir up this much interest in the rest of the state, he would be a viable candidate.

Five minutes into his speech, I felt confident he was going to say the same things I’d heard him say at thirty other speeches. So, my mind started wandering as I took the time to scan the crowd and look for possible people to interview. In the right side of the front row sat the elderly and infirm. I noticed a young girl in a wheelchair, and wondered what her life story was. Some sitting there must have been deaf as there was a sign language interpreter on the stage just above them. I did see one man sitting up front with dark sunglasses on, and assumed he was blind. The rest of the crowd seemed to be made up of all types of people, business men and women, as well as, farmers, and general workers. It appeared some families were in attendance, as I could see men and women with children nearby. This was a good crowd and their excitement inspired George as he was more animated than usual.

Even though it was a warm day, it wasn’t long before my right hip started aching from standing most of the morning. My doctor had warned me that my bone and cartilage were worn out. I needed hip replacement surgery, but I was trying to suffer through and put it off until after the election in November. With my boss already taking his anger out on me, I didn’t think I could chance taking a medical leave before then and still have a job waiting for me after I recovered. So, I was determined to ignore the pain the best I could.

As George was nearing the end of his remarks, I turned my attention back to the stage. It was at that moment I heard a sizzling sound followed by a blinding flash of light. I tried to shade my eyes with my hand, but the brightness was too much and penetrated right through. No one screamed nor yelled, but I did hear some moaning. After about ten seconds the light dimmed and faded away and the sound disappeared. I immediately noticed everyone who had been standing was now on their knees including George. Then I realized I was on my knees, too. Slowly, people started rising to their feet, and I could hear them muttering and asking each other about what had happened.

George pulled himself up to the microphone and asked, “Is everyone okay?” The crowd was talking among themselves, and no one said they were hurt. Someone yelled, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” George replied. “Does anybody know?”

Sheriff Hawkins, who had been standing to the side of the stage, climbed up to join George and told the crowd, “Whatever it was, I don’t think anyone’s been harmed by it.” One lady in the middle of the audience yelled, “It was an angel! I saw an angel!” That got the crowd buzzing.

The Sheriff objected, “Now, Mrs. Starnes, let’s not start foolish talk here. We need everyone to stay calm and not get all excited about this.”

“I know what I saw,” she yelled back at him. “He was up in the air and had his wings spread out!”

“Now, now, Mrs. Starnes,” the Sheriff said in a condescending voice.

“I saw him, too,” hollered a man in another part of the crowd. “The light flashed from his eyes!”

It appeared the Sheriff was about to say something, but several other people spoke up and said they saw the same thing. One lady yelled, “It wasn’t a man. The angel was a woman!”

“That’s what I saw,” agreed a mother holding a baby.

George stepped to the mike again and offered, “Well, whatever it was, I’m sure Sheriff Hawkins and his office will investigate and find the truth.” This was when a woman in the crowd screamed. I stood on my tiptoes trying to see what was happening and immediately noticed the girl who had been sitting in a wheelchair walking in front of the stage. Her mother was running to her, screaming with excitement. The girl showed no sign of being handicapped and started running to meet her mother. They met in the middle in the front of the stage and the girl jumped into the woman’s arms. Both of them were crying and trying to talk at the same time. I assumed the woman was the girl’s mother.

Suddenly, a man starting yelling, “I can hear! I can hear!” I looked over at the deaf section and they were all talking with each other. Arms were flailing as they excitedly tried to let others know they could hear. Someone else shouted, “I can see! Oh, God, I can see!” It was the man with the dark sunglasses.

If all this wasn’t odd enough, I noticed there were no longer any bald men in the crowd. I knew I had seen some at the start of the rally, but there were none now. One man bellowed, “Janice, your hair’s brown again!” She yelled back, “You’ve got hair, and it’s blonde!” This went on for a while longer as different people kept exclaiming how much better they felt or how they had been cured of whatever ailment they had. Some started praising God, others broke into tears, and some stood in stunned silence. I was twisting back and forth trying to take as many pictures as I could, and listening to all that was taking place as I realized this was going to be the headline story, why this could be the biggest story ever. Suddenly, it dawned on me, there was no pain in my hip. Normally, that much movement would’ve had me grimacing and grunting, and probably cursing. I moved my hip back and forth, and then swung my leg out, but I couldn’t make it hurt. This was amazing.

Finally, George spoke again to the audience, “Friends, may I have your attention, please? I don’t know what’s happened here, but something has. I’m going to end my remarks here so everyone can gather their things and leave. I think we need time to think about this and we don’t need a politician to keep speaking. We’ll have time for that later.”

He and the Mayor stayed on the stage talking to each other. I wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said, so I took the time to talk to some of the people around me.

“So, you saw an angel, Mrs. Starnes?”

“Yes, I did,” she enthusiastically replied. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not that I heard,” she continued. “He just looked out over everybody and then his eyes flashed that bright light we saw. My hearts still beating fast!”

“Some are saying they’ve been cured of their ailments. What about you?”

“Look at my hair,” she answered as she grabbed the side of her head to show me. “It’s back to its natural color, and my knees feel the best they have in years. I almost feel like a schoolgirl again!”

Working my way through the crowd, I found Ken Lyerly. I asked, “Can you tell me what you saw?”

“I didn’t see anything,” he replied. “I’ve been blind from glaucoma for the last twenty years. All I know is I’m not blind anymore. I can see! Praise the Lord, I can see!”

Standing beside him was Lenny Jones. I asked him if he had been cured of anything. He opened his hand and revealed what he was holding. It was a set of dentures. He proudly proclaimed with a huge toothy smile, “I don’t need these anymore!” A lady was nearby holding something in her hand, too. I asked her what she had, and she replied, “I think it’s the pacemaker I had in my chest.”

“Are you okay?” I asked out of concern.

“I feel fine,” she replied with a laugh.

Moving through the crowd, I eventually was able to find the little girl who was in the wheelchair and her mother. The girl’s name is Stacy Morrows, and her mother is Thelma.

“Mrs. Morrows, how long had Stacy been in her wheelchair?”

“Oh, ever since the car crash over five years ago,” she sobbed as she was still struggling with her emotions.

“Stacy, how old are you?”

“I’m nine and one half,” she proudly replied.

“What do you think about what’s happened?”

She bent over and patted her legs before saying, “I can walk! After the bright light, I felt different. I could feel my legs again, so I just stood up and started walking!”

I started to ask Thelma some more questions, but she was too emotional. So, I wished them the best and moved on.

I interviewed a few other people, and they had almost the same story to tell. There was hardly a dry eye among all as everyone had an illness or injury cured by the light. I couldn’t and wouldn’t even try to tell them they’re wrong, as I, too, had seen the flash of light, and now my hip felt brand new.

Climbing up to the stage, I caught George as Mayor Cubbins was walking away. “Excuse me, George, may I ask your opinion on the flashing light?”

He looked at me as if he was debating on whether to talk to me or not. Finally, he said, “Well, I’m not sure.”

“Surely you have an impression or a good guess,” I offered.

“Look, Henry, I’m not going on the record on this,” he bristled. “If you report this, then it’s going to be all over the news, and all over the world. The last thing I need is a quotation of mine making me look like some hillbilly fool.”

“Now, you know I’ve always treated you fairly in my reporting,” I objected. “I wouldn’t paint you that way just to sell copy.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “But this is something entirely different. Maybe I’ll talk to you later about it after I’ve had time to think and consult with my people.”

With that he turned and left the stage. So, I gathered my things and headed back to my motel. On the way, I called my office to give them a heads up about what I was about to send them. My editor, Mary Lentz thought I was joking with her.

“This is no joke, Mary,” I protested. “I’ve recorded interviews with some of the folks here, and every one of them say it’s real.”

“Oh, come on, Henry,” she laughed. “An angel just suddenly appears and with a flash heals everybody at a political rally. Where are you at, Hollywood?”

“Laugh all you want,” I sneered. “This is what everyone’s going to be talking about tomorrow, and you’ve got a scoop because you’ve got a reporter on the scene.”

“Okay, okay,” she said with a smirk. “Write it up and send it to me within the hour.” She couldn’t resist one last dig and asked, “What’d the angel do, give you three more inches?”

“Funny, real funny,” I replied as I wasn’t amused. It seemed to me that since my boss was mad at me, I was fair game to be ridiculed in some fashion by everyone in the office. So, with disgust I declared, “I guess my next report will be on sexual harassment in the workforce.”

“Get it to me in an hour,” she shot back as she disconnected the call.

My motel was just down the street from the Sheriff’s office, so I decided to stop there first. Sheriff Hawkins was standing just inside the doorway when I entered the building.

“Excuse me Sheriff,” I politely said. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

He looked at me with an expressionless face and replied, “Sure, so long as you don’t want to talk about the rally.”

“Okay, I won’t ask directly about it,” I agreed. “But why won’t you talk about it? Even George brushed me off. Is there more going on here than what we just witnessed?”

“Now, Mr. Jacobs,” he sneered. “If I don’t want to talk about what happened, do you really think I’d be willing to discuss if there’s more to it than what we saw?”

“Very well, Sheriff,” I offered. “I think you should know it’s going to be the lead story just as soon as I get my notes to the office.”

I could see the vein in his head throbbing as he stared at me. Finally, he said, “Mr. Jacobs, please leave my town as soon as you can.” With that said, he opened the door and motioned for me to vacate the building. I simply nodded my head and took my leave.

For the life of me I couldn’t understand why all the secrecy. If what we saw was true, it would be one of the most historic things to happen since the days of Jesus Christ. I would think the town’s leaders would want the world to know. Such an event would bring worldwide attention to Forward, and there would probably be pilgrimages coming there from all types of religions. As the old saying goes, this would put Forward on the map.

By the time I entered my motel room, I had forty minutes left on my deadline to transmit all the information over to Mary for publication. I was busy putting the finishing touches together when there was a knock on the door. When I opened the door there were four serious looking men standing there. Three of them were tall with sunglasses and all of them wore dark suits.

The shorter man spoke first, “Mr. Henry Jacobs?”

I wasn’t comfortable with strangers wanting me, especially this far away from home and people I know. Despite this, I assured him I was the one he was looking for.

“We need to speak with you,” he asserted.

“I’m quite busy right now,” I objected.

One of the taller men brushed by the shorter one and pushed his way into my room. I protested, “Hey, you can’t just walk in here!” He was quickly followed by the other three men. I was outnumbered and fearing the worst.

“Mr. Jacobs, I’m Clive Bricker,” the shorter man offered. “We’re with Homeland Security.”

“Okay,” I cautiously said. “Do you have any identification?”

He smiled and replied, “You’ll have to take our word for it.”

“No, I don’t,” I objected. “You either leave or I’m calling the police!”

That’s when the man who had pushed his way into my room grabbed me and slammed me face first against the wall and held me there. He pulled my right arm up and behind my back. The pain wasn’t bad, but he could easily have increased the pressure until it was. One of the other men declared, “I’ve got his phone.”

“Okay, see what else we’ve got,” Clive directed.

With my face buried in the wall, I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing. There was some shuffling sounds followed by something buzzing. After what seemed like a long time to me the man holding me let go. I was angry and spun around to find all three of the large men had surrounded me. Taking a step back, I surrendered, "All right."

Clive smiled at me and said, “Mr. Jacobs, we need you to remain calm. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, I can,” I snarled. “But only so you won’t hurt me.”

“Good,” he said as he continued to grin. “It’s been decided that the events that happened at the rally today are not to be made public. We ask your cooperation in making sure they're not.”

“The public has a right to know,” I insisted. “The people at the rally know, and I’m filing a report about it that will be published within an hour.”

He crunched his face and declared, “Hmm, no you’re not. This is a matter of national security and we’ve already erased everything about it from your phone and your laptop. We only ask that you don’t try to rewrite it.”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” I shouted.

“Hmm, we did.”

“Okay, if that’s the way you’re going to be, then just go on and get out of here and leave me alone,” I offered.

Clive smiled again and said, “Now, Mr. Jacobs, I know what you’re thinking. Once we leave you’re going to download the information you have in your cloud storage.”

I just stared at him as that was exactly what I had planned to do. He continued, “Hmm, that’s not going to happen. As we speak, your storage is being scanned and all information about the rally is being permanently deleted.”

I tried to think of what I could do, but it seemed they were a step ahead of me. Finally, I threatened, “I’ll just tell everything from memory.”

He shrugged and declared, “I wouldn't recommend that. You see, here’s the thing: If you listen to me and don’t try to publish your story, then life can go on and you can continue to cover George Williamston’s campaign for your paper. If you don’t listen, then the World News Service is going to terminate your employment. Unfortunately, that will only be the beginning of your troubles.”

It was easy to tell that not only was my job in jeopardy, but he was making a threat against my life. I weakly said, “Everything you’re doing is illegal. How can you?”

“Like I said, it’s for national security,” he answered. “Now, it’s naturally up to you what you’re going to do, but I hope you listen to me and show you’re a patriotic citizen.”

I just stared at him in silence. He glanced at one of the men and they all marched out of my room. When he stepped outside, he turned toward me and said, “Mr. Jacobs, thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

After they left, I stood there confused and dazed. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around all that was taking place. From what happened at the rally to being ransacked by thugs who claimed they were from Homeland Security left me wondering what I could do next. So, I did the only thing I knew to do, and that was call my office and tell Mary why I wouldn’t be able to file my report.

She listened in silence as I repeated the actions of Clive Bricker and the men with him. When I had finished with my explanation, and asked if I could have more time to recreate the report, all she said was, “Hold on.”

It was less than a minute when my boss picked up the phone and started shouting at me.

“What is this Jacobs?” he yelled. “I send you on the simplest assignment I could find, and you can’t even get that right!”

“What did you want me to do?” I shot back at him. “They pinned me against the wall and then erased everything!”

“I swear you’re the sorriest excuse for a reporter I’ve ever seen,” he declared. “You screw up the Greece job and now this!”

“Now, Alvin, you know your son was right there in Italy,” I protested. “You didn’t want to bother him on his vacation, so you sent me all the way from Alaska and expected nothing to go wrong? Tell me again who screwed it up.”

“That’s it! That’s it, you’re fired,” he shouted. “Don’t even bother coming back here. Just mail our laptop back to us. I don’t want to see your ugly face around here!”

With that, the line went dead as he hung up on me. Now I was unemployed, and at the moment, I didn’t really care. Why would I want to work for a man like Alvin Rowse, whose main talent was covering his ass? It wasn’t long before I did care. When my anger subsided, it shook me to realize I no longer had a job, and I was hundreds of miles from home. Then, I remembered Clive assuring me if I didn’t file my report I would continue to be employed by the World News Service. Well, I had done as he said, as I had no choice but to do so, and I was still fired. I shook my head as it seemed I was getting hit on all sides and had no defense.

After packing my bag, I went to the front desk to check out. While standing at the counter, it occurred to me I had time to at least talk to a few people. Maybe someone would be willing to help me and verify to Mary what had happened so I could get my job back. If nothing else, I could sell my report to whichever paper is willing to buy it.

I knew in a small town like Forward everyone knew each other, or they knew of each other. So, I ask the clerk at the desk, “Do you know a Thelma Morrows? She has a daughter by the name of Stacy.”

He glanced up at me and replied, “Yeah, I know them.”

“Can you tell me where they live?”

Looking me up and down, he finally answered, “They live on Highland Avenue in the light pink house with a car port.”

“Thank you,” I said as he handed me the receipt for the room. As I turned to leave, he asked, “Would you like for me to mail that laptop for you?”

Now, it was my turn to look him up and down. How did he know I was to mail it back to my office? I had called using my cell phone and not the motel’s phone, so he couldn’t have been listening in. This was just one more strange thing happening, and it was stoking my curiosity to the point I was determined to find some answers. I simply replied, “No, thank you. I’ll mail it later.”

Out on the street, I started to call for a taxi, but I was feeling physically fit, almost like I was thirty years younger. So, I checked the map on my phone to locate Highland Avenue and proceeded to walk there. It only took me fifteen minutes and I was there looking down the avenue. I immediately saw a pink house with a car port in the second block. Thinking that was the house, I strolled over to it and rang the doorbell.

When the door opened, I was face-to-face with Thelma Morrows. I apologized, “Excuse me, Mrs. Morrows, for coming here without being invited, but I need to talk with you.”

“What about?”

“I would like to talk more about what happened at the rally,” I answered.

She looked down at the floor and claimed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just a regular meeting. We listened to George Williamston talk and that was it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What was going on in this town to make people hide what everyone saw? I sternly said, “I see they got to you, too.”

She looked me in the face and asserted, “No one’s got to me.”

“Then why are you acting like nothing happened?” I asked in frustration. “Don’t you remember talking with me at the rally about how your daughter was healed and can now walk for the first time since the car accident?”

“I remember talking to you, but it was about my thoughts about what Mr. Williamston said in his speech,” she asserted.

“Are you kidding me?” I almost yelled. “You were ecstatic that the flash of light healed Stacy and she’s now able to walk!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

All I could do was shake my head in disbelief. So, I asked, “May I talk with Stacy, please?”

Her eyes darted back and forth before replying, “I’m afraid she’s busy doing homework.”

“I won’t take but a minute,” I declared.

“No, I don’t want to break her concentration,” she quickly said. “This is not a good time, so I thank you to take your leave.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” I smirked. “But I thought you’d be the one person who would want the world to know about your little girl. I guess I was wrong.”

“I guess you were,” she quietly said. As I turned to leave, she offered, “Mr. Jacobs.”

I stopped but didn’t turn around to face her. She continued, “Just let it go, please.”

Without replying I walked away.

As I walked down the street, I couldn’t help but start questioning my sanity. I was convinced of what I had seen at the rally, but I no longer had any proof of it, and the one person who I thought would verify it wasn’t willing to do so. Four men had held me hostage in my own motel room, exploited me, and erased all evidence I had to prove I wasn’t imagining everything. In addition, I lost my job. So, was I crazy? The only thread I could see to hold onto was the fact that everyone I spoke with kept insisting I leave town. This made me believe people were hiding something and they wanted me to quit asking questions. My instincts kicked in and I resolved to keep investigating until I uncovered the truth.

It wasn’t long before I had walked to City Hall, so I marched right into the Mayor’s office and approached his secretary. The nameplate on her desk read “Cindy Axworthy.” I smiled at her and said, “Excuse me, Ms. Axworthy. May I see Mayor Cubbins for just a moment, please?”

She stared at me as if she hadn’t heard a word I said. Without addressing me, she picked up her phone and declared, “Henry Jacobs wants to see you.”

It wasn’t long before the Mayor opened his door and motioned me into his office. He sat at his desk, and I took a seat across from him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Jacobs?” he smugly asked.

“Mayor, I’m as confused as I’ve ever been,” I replied. “What took place at the rally today was a miracle, and yet, now everyone wants to dismiss it as if it never happened.”

“That’s interesting,” he said.

“Something of that magnitude should be shared with the world,” I continued. “It would add credence to the belief in God and angels. Why, Forward would be forever looked upon as a holy city. If nothing else, scientists would want to investigate the event. Who knows what discoveries could be made. Who knows how many people could be cured of their ailments the way many were here today.”

“And that’s what you want to do?” he asked. “You want to share with the world.”

“Yes, I do,” I answered. “The world has a right to know.”

He swiveled his chair around to where all I could see was the back of his head. Speaking in a barely audible voice, he declared, “We don’t want that here.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” he continued. “We’ve always been a small town, and that’s one of the most beautiful things about living here. If the world thought there were angels here healing people, we’d be overrun with every Tom, Dick, and Harry wanting to see them. In fact, the whole world would be on our doorsteps.”

“Well, that’s fine for you and your little town,” I declared with some anger. “But, that’s totally unfair for everybody else. They’d like to be cured, too! Who gave you the power and the right to deny that for them and keep all this to yourselves?”

The Mayor spun his chair back around to face me and curtly asked, “Have you ever given a second’s thought to what would happen? Can you imagine what it would be like here, or for that matter, what it would be like for any city or town? It would be a madhouse! There’s not a city on earth that would be able to handle the chaos that would result if the whole world came knocking on their door!”

We sat in silence for a few minutes until I offered, “It just doesn’t seem right. The people here get to turn back the clock and live a healthier life while everybody else in the world has no choice but to live with disease, sickness, and old age with no real relief up to the day they die.”

He gave a long sigh and said, “I could easily answer with the old adage that ‘life is not fair.’ Look, you and some others think they saw an angel. Who knows? But, let’s suppose, it was an angel. Do you really think it would want the world to know?”

“Why not?”

“Well, think about it,” he continued. “If they wanted the world to know then they could simply appear before the whole world and cure everyone. Instead, they pick a small rural town in North Carolina to perform a so-called ‘miracle.’ That sounds to me like they don’t want any publicity. Of course, that’s assuming, as you believe, it was an angel.”

I had to admit, that was a good enough point to make me think, but my reporter instincts wanted more, they wanted the truth.

“There’s the matter of telling the truth,” I declared. “We put the truth out there and let people decide.”

He smiled and said, “Well, you have your truth and others have theirs. Who can say who’s right? All I know is I will not help you ruin this town and the people living here. In fact, I will use this office and this town’s resources to prevent you from doing so.”

“So, that’s it, huh?” I asked with a bitter taste in my mouth.

“No, just one more thing,” he replied. “I’ve taken the liberty to purchase you a bus ticket back to your hometown. Cindy will hand it to you on your way out. Please accept it as a going away present from the good people of Forward. The bus leaves in an hour and a half.”

When I reached her desk, she gave me the ticket and then declared, “Sheriff Hawkins has sent a deputy over to give you a ride to the depot. He’s waiting for you by the curb.” I wanted to mouth something clever back at her, but my spirit had been crushed, and all I thought of was getting as far away as possible and as fast as I could.

At the train station, I climbed out of the patrol car, and actually thanked the deputy for giving me a ride. There was no need to be rude to him as he was simply following orders from those desperate to have me leave. I had my ticket validated at the counter and then went outside to wait on the bus to arrive. There was a nice bench located under a canopy, so I sat down to wait, and placed my bag on the ground between my legs.

I was deep in thought and didn’t pay attention to the man who came up and sat down on the opposite end of the bench. He almost startled me when he said, “Mr. Henry Jacobs, you act as if you have a troubled soul.” Looking at him, I almost did a double take as he looked exactly like Clive Bricker. I did a quick scan of the area to see if his goons were coming, too.

Not seeing anyone, I asked, “Clive, what do you want now?”

He acted surprised and replied, “Uh, Henry, I believe you are confusing me with someone else. My name is Gabe.”

“Well, if that’s true, you sure have a doppelganger named Clive Bricker,” I smirked.

“I assure you I’m not Clive Bricker,” he asserted again. “As I said, my name is Gabe.”

“Gabe what?”

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter,” he offered with a smile. “I’ll call you Henry and you call me Gabe. Fair enough?”

“So, you’re not the Clive Bricker who stormed my motel room with his three thugs and erased all my evidence about the rally,” I mocked with a nasty tone. “Even so, I suppose you’re with Homeland Security, too, and can’t explain anything because it’s all in the name of national security!”

He shook his head and heaved a big sigh before asking, “Well, did they say which homeland they’re from?”

I stared at him before replying, “No.”

“I see,” he said. “I suppose, then they didn’t say which national security they were protecting, either, did they?”

Now, it was my turn to sigh before saying, “No.”

“I see. That is a mystery,” was all he said.

At that point, I didn’t care anymore, and was greatly relieved that he was alone, as I had seen all I wanted to see of the other three bullies. So, I inquired, “Okay, Gabe, what do you want?”

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your cooperation in not publishing your report,” he said. “It’s been difficult for you, and I appreciate what this situation put you through, and how you’ve adjusted to it.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve had a choice in the matter,” I bitterly stated. “Everything I’ve tried to do has been undermined at every turn.”

“Yes, there are those that have strong feelings about keeping certain events secret,” he offered. “It’s a shame innocent people get caught up in their tactics and sometimes are treated in a harsh manner.”

“I think I’ve been innocent, and not only was I mistreated, but I’ve definitely been harmed, too,” I complained.

“Uh-huh. How’s your hip?” he asked with a smirk.

“Okay, yes, that’s great, and I’m truly thankful for whatever cured me,” I acknowledged. “But, I’ve also been treated pretty badly. Clive said if I didn’t file my story, then I could keep on covering the Williamston campaign and keep working for the World News Service. That didn’t happen. They still fired me anyway. So, now I have no report and no job!”

Gabe looked up toward the sky, and then around before saying, “Yes, Clive did say that. But, in all fairness, you didn’t really do what he said. He told you to not try and publish your report, and yet, you called your office attempting to get them to give you more time to put it all together again. Then, you went around trying to find someone who would be willing to go on record about it so you could still find a way to file it. You even went to Thelma Morris and wanted to involve her sweet little daughter in your scheme. It appears to me you’d been better off to do what Clive wanted you to do.”

It pained me to admit that he was right, so I protested, “Yeah, I thought I could outsmart him.”

“Yeah, I think there’s a lesson there to be learned,” he said with a smile. “But, listen, what you did is minor. There’s more to you losing your job than that.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “Only for the sake of argument, let’s imagine you’ve been dealing with forces beyond the human realm. There can be forces for good and forces for evil, just like you see around you all the time. Now, your former boss, Alvin Rowse, is less than a desirable soul. In fact, evil clings to him. There again, simply for the sake of argument, I can see Clive being fought against by that evil and not able to keep his promise to you. It’s regrettable, but I’ve seen things like that happen.”

“Gabe, you have a wild imagination,” I surmised.

“I know, but it’s fun,” he laughed. Then, turning serious, he said, “Even in the Bible an angel was prevented for twenty-one days from delivering a message by a force of evil. So, I’m just saying, it’s not unheard of.”

“So, am I one of those innocence that gets in the way and is harmed by it?” I asked out of frustration. “It sure feels that way to me.”

“Well, since we’re imagining scenarios, let’s go a little further,” he declared. “It’s my understanding that most companies will offer severance packages to employees who have been dismissed. Were you offered one?”

“No, and I’ve never known anyone in my office who has,” I answered.

“That’s interesting,” Gabe offered. “Mr. Rowse has the reputation of easily firing people. It’s my understanding he's terminated employment for quite a few.”

“You’ve got that right,” I agreed. “Sometimes he goes out of his way to let somebody go.”

Gabe rubbed his chin with his fingers before asking, “Did you know it’s standard company policy with the World News Service to provide almost all terminations with a package? They even give it many times when the employee is at fault and needs to be let go. It’s cheaper than paying lawyers to constantly defend them against disgruntled ex-employees in court.”

“So, I’m supposed to get a severance?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s my understanding,” he revealed. “Now, if you’ll allow me to let my imagination run wild again, let’s suppose Alvin’s reason for not giving severance pay is he’s been pocketing it himself. You see, to his superiors it appears he’s been paying it out the way the company wants him to, but it actually goes into a special account he set up for his use. That also could explain why he’s continually looking to fire someone.”

What Gabe was telling started to make sense to me. It would be the answer to a lot of little nagging things I saw going on in the office. I was almost in shock, but I still said, “I wish I had proof of that. I’d turn him in to the cops in a heartbeat.”

“That’s what someone like him would deserve,” Gabe agreed. “But, let’s go further with our imaginary tale: Suppose the board of directors recently received concrete evidence of Alvin’s misdeeds and decided to take action.”

I smiled and offered, “Gabe, I like the way you think.”

“Thank you,” he said as he returned the smile. “Now, let’s see, suppose at this moment, as we speak, Alvin Rowse is being led out of the office in handcuffs by the FBI to face charges of embezzlement and whatever else they can drum up against him. Of course, they would be taking his accomplice, too.”

It dawned on me, and I almost yelled, “Mary!”

“Yes!” he said enthusiastically. “You know, it always catches me by surprise how sweet justice feels.”

“Well, at least things can be right going forward,” I declared. “I’m happy for those still working there.”

“Listen, he hasn’t had time to steal the severance due you,” he offered. “So, in a day or two, follow up with the office about it, or at least, check your bank account. It may be there.”

“Wow, that would be awesome!” I said with a laugh.

We sat in silence for a while until he looked like he was about to say something, but I beat him to it and asked, “Can we imagine another scenario?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s suppose that what happened at the rally was angelic intervention,” I surmised. “Why would they do that? Why come to small rural town like Forward to perform a miracle? Most importantly, why the secrecy?”

“Those are some excellent questions,” he declared. “Let’s think this through: What do we see in nature? In most all things we see conception, birth, growth, life, and eventually, death. We even see it in some inanimate objects. If that’s true for nature, would it not be true for angelic creatures?”

“Wait a minute,” I objected. “I was taught angels live forever.”

“I know people think that,” he said. “But, I believe there’s only one being who is immortal. Everything else I see is not.”

“Hmm, that’s an interesting perspective.”       

“So, let’s think about the scenario you present,” he continued. “Let’s suppose there’s new angels being made to replace those who no longer exist. Well, don’t you think just like toddlers and young children they need training? They’ll need to learn how to act, and of course, they will need to practice and master their angelic powers. On-the-job training would be one of the best ways to accomplish this.”

“So, we’re imagining what took place at the rally was a young angel being trained to heal people?” I asked.

“It would seem logical to me,” he asserted. “I would think, angels would want a small out-of-the-way town to practice. The people of the town would benefit from the training sessions, and everyone would know to keep the events to themselves. The town would want to avoid the publicity and being overrun, and the angels couldn’t have everyone everywhere demanding the same treatment, as their abilities do have limits. I would think God would be okay with that arrangement so long as it doesn’t stray too far from his natural order.”

“So, it appears this was not the first time something like this has happened in Forward,” I surmised.

“Hey, you tell me. It’s your scenario,” he said with a grin. “Who knows, it may not be the last time, either.”

“What about all the other things a young angel needs to learn?” I asked.

“Oh, there are many places like Forward that can easily be found to practice the good things,” he replied. “For the more dramatic and unpleasant skills, there are uninhabited isolated places for those. There’s plenty of space in the universe for whatever is needed.”

About this time, it dawned on me that my bus hadn’t arrived yet. So, I mumbled, “The bus is running late.”

Gabe let out a laugh and said, “Maybe it knows we’re talking and doesn’t want to interrupt.”

I looked at him and declared, “Okay, I appreciate everything you’ve said, but I’m still grappling with being unable to tell what happened here. I’m sorry, but it’s gnawing at me.”

“That’s the reporter in you,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, that’s not a bad thing. In fact, you’re a very good reporter and you should be proud of that. I’d be disappointed in you if you weren’t bothered. But, maybe you can look at it from another angle.”

“What other angle?”

“Well, let’s see here,” he answered. “You’re a reporter. You have a story you want to tell, but you can’t. Let’s say you did publish the facts as you understand them. Normally, a factual story is appreciated and does good in keeping the world informed. But, the story you’re wanting to tell is of Biblical proportions. That’s a totally different ballgame. You know what the Mayor told you about what would happen to this small community. What he said is true but think about the effect on you.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he continued. “Now, you’d get paid for it and maybe even win a prize or two. Even though millions will believe what you report, there will be millions more who won’t. They’ll scrutinize everything about you and trash you every chance they get. Governments will interrogate you, maybe even threaten you with litigation or worse. Social media will be on fire with all types of bad and hurtful things about you, some true and many made up. That’s not even counting what will happen when the conspiracy crowd comes after you. I can see threats being directed toward you and anyone associated with you. Wherever you go you’ll never feel totally safe, even if you can afford security protection. Some Christians will believe, and others will call you the son of Satan. Other religious groups may even label you sacrilegious and post a bounty on your life. Are you prepared for these possibilities?”

Gabe had a way of saying things that made you believe it would happen exactly as he said it would. Now, I was doubting if a little bit of fame from telling the facts would be worth the pain it would cause. So, I asked, “Okay, so what’s the alternative.”

He looked directly at me and declared, “Tell the exact same story, but call it fiction.”

“What?”

“Yes, approach what you know from the angle of it being fiction,” he restated. “When you publish something as fact, you get second guessed. But, with fiction, you can be anyone you want, go anywhere, be in the present, the past, the future, and do anything you can think of doing. You are only limited by your imagination. The one thing you’ll need to do differently is change the names of people and the place. You can write a novel and tell everything you know, and people will love it.”

“Write a novel?”

“Absolutely,” he enthusiastically replied. “It wouldn’t be the first-time reality has been buried in the pages of fiction, and I dare say, it won’t be the last.”

I had to think about that. It was approaching everything from an entirely different angle than what I was used to doing. I turned toward him and said, “Okay, Gabe, I’m definitely going to think about this. If nothing else, it’ll take my mind off of feeling sorry for myself. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a soft smile.

“By the way, is there a scenario where George Williamston wins the election?” I asked. “You know, he is a good and decent man.”

“Yes, he is,” Gabe agreed. “From what I’ve observed, with little political experience, he’s still a better candidate than Senator Lowery. Time will tell. We’ll see.”

There was another long pause which I finally broke by saying, “Gabe, I don’t know who you really are, but I think you’ve healed my troubled soul.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he beamed. “Listen, one more thing and then I’m going to leave you alone.”

“Sure.”

“You know Thelma Morrows is a wonderful woman,” he declared. “I admire how dedicated she is especially the way she’s taken care of Stacy after the accident. Did you know her husband was killed in the car crash?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, it was such a tragedy,” he continued. “He had picked Stacy up from daycare and they were heading home. A drunk driver swerved into their lane and hit them head on. He and the other driver died immediately, and of course, you saw the effect on Stacy.”

“Wow! That’s a terrible thing,” I offered.

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “Now, I know at this moment, you may not have the best of feelings toward Thelma, being she wouldn’t help you out when you asked her. But, please don’t judge her harshly. She got caught up in this, too, and she’s trying to handle it the best she can and do what’s been asked of her.”

“I know,” I declared. “I’m not mad at her, in fact, I’m really happy for her and Stacy. She deserves something good in her life. The little girl can walk again and that’s fantastic! There’s no other way to feel about it.”

“I like your attitude,” he stated. “Look, she may not like me telling you this, but she thinks you’re a pretty good guy.”

“She does?”

“Yes, she does,” he repeated. “You asked her to do something. She wouldn’t help you, and yet you respected her boundaries. That impressed her more than you realize. You know, you and she are about the same age.”

“So, Gabe, among your many talents is matchmaker, huh?” I asked with a grin. “Are you going to pull out your bow and arrow and shoot me with a love dart?”

He looked at me with an astonished look and inquired, “Do I need to?”

We both burst out laughing. It felt good. Then, he handed me a piece of paper and said, “Look, naturally you do what you want. I’m just making an observation. That’s her address, and I think she would appreciate a nice letter from you to her and Stacy. That’s all I’m saying.”

I took the paper, but protested, “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Oh, come on,” he almost yelled. “You’re a writer, you’ll figure out what to tell her.”

“You ever hear of ‘writer’s block’?”

He shot back, “You ever hear of letting your heart speak.”

We were laughing again when the bus rounded the corner and came to a stop at the station. I stood and grabbed my bag before saying, “Gabe, it was nice meeting you. Thank you for helping me. Will I ever see you again?”

He shrugged and answered, “Who knows? If not, you’ve always got Clive and his three buddies.”

“Thanks,” I sneered.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

“Goodbye, Gabe.”

I joined the line with the other passengers waiting to get on the bus. When I turned around to look at Gabe, he was gone. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. On the way home, I had so much to think about, and I wanted to plot out what I was going to do. In some ways, I felt like the way I’m sure the residents of Forward feel, that yes, we are being told what to do in certain situations, but if we do, we’ll have the backing of forces we don’t fully understand. Anyway, it’s only a few situations at best. The rest of the time we can do whatever we want.

After weighing all the pros and cons I could think of, I took Gabe’s advice and wrote a fictitious novel detailing what I knew had truly happened. I named it The Angel Angle. The events in the book took place in Iceland and all the characters have different names from the real people. It stayed on the best seller’s list for twenty-one weeks. This brought notoriety to me, and sometimes I’m still recognized in public. It wasn’t long before a Hollywood producer reached out to my agent wanting to purchase the movie rights to my book. It meant a hefty paycheck for me and a stamp of approval on my writing abilities.

George Williamston actually won his race for the Senate. He was being trounced in the polls, but three weeks before the election a video surfaced of then Senator Lowery making disparaging remarks about his supporters and his party. His comments were awful. I don’t know if he was sober or not, but he used all types of vile names to call people that he expected to vote for him. It was so vulgar the news stations refused to air parts of it. Of course, it was readily available on social media. So, with that twist, George won the election by two percentage points.

I also took Gabe’s advice and sent by snail mail a letter to Thelma and Stacy. In the letter I wished them well and thanked Thelma for being honest and forthright with me. A few days later, I received a return letter from her complimenting me on my writing abilities and thanking me for not being belligerent with her that day on her porch. Included was a picture of me drawn by Stacy. It was looking up at me as if from the angle of someone in a wheelchair. That brought a tear to my eyes.

After that letter, we started talking by phone, and now we've been on a couple of dates. Not long ago, I was on a book signing tour and made several stops in North Carolina. After the one in Raleigh, I rented a car and drove to Forward to see Thelma. We were able to spend two whole days together and had a wonderful time. While there, I took the opportunity to stop by and see Mayor Cubbins. I gave him a copy of The Angel Angle as a gift. He was appreciative and asked me to autograph it for him. I was glad to do so. Then I took the opening to ask if he knew of anyone who would object to me moving to Forward. Without hesitation, he told me I would be welcomed, and it would be a pleasure to have me as a resident. He said everyone he knew in town greatly appreciated how discreet I’d been about the town, and he claimed everybody loved my book, too.

Later that evening, I asked Thelma what she thought of the idea. I think she’s okay with it, even though she didn’t come right out and say so. She was too busy hugging and kissing me to say much. Stacy liked me moving there, too, after first saying she’d prefer I stayed away. She had me believing her until she rolled her eyes. The big grin on her face gave it away, too. I was sitting on the couch beside Thelma when Stacy rushed over and jumped in my lap to hug me when I told her I was moving to Forward. If that had been done before the rally, I would’ve been writhing on the floor with pain shooting through my hip. Now, according to my latest Xray, I have no hip troubles.

So, I’m in the process of packing and moving. It will be a big change for me, as I grew up and have lived in a large city, and now, I’ll need to adapt to the quieter life of small-town America. At this point, I look forward to a simpler life, and the opportunity to get to be with and know Thelma more. Stacy’s passion for life is contagious, and I want some of that to rub off on me.

I also think the town of Forward is the place to be if and when another strange event takes place. According to what I learned from Gabe, what I saw was not the first time, and I have to believe, it won’t be the last. So, I want to be there when the next one happens. Who knows, it could provide me with material for my next novel. That’s my angle.

THE END