Flash Fiction Friday - It Came on the Wind
A short story inspired by a nightmare my wife experienced
Randy Porterfield sat at the end of the bar and swirled the last remnants of beer at the bottom of his glass. He wanted to chug it down, to wash away the pain, but doing so would mean going home and telling his wife and kids the paper mill was closing and he was out of a job.
The bartender walked over and pointed at the glass. “Ready for another one?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Randy mumbled, doing the math in his head to see if ordering another drink would bleed his lowly bank account dry.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” the bartender said with a scowl. “You’ve been nursing that one for ages now.”
Waiting until the server moved on to another customer, Randy swallowed the last drops of his now warm beer, grimacing at the insipid taste. “I need to win the lottery,” Randy mumbled under his breath. He was so caught up in his own misery he failed to notice the man now sitting to his left.
“Can I get you another?” the man asked.
Randy jumped at the sound of the voice, sending the beer glass onto its side, where it rolled across the bar and dropped to the floor. The sound of smashing glass elicited a round of applause and a weary cheer from the other patrons.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” the man said, flashing a grin. “I feel as though I owe you a beer now.”
Before Randy could respond, a young redhead server stepped between them, a broom and dustpan in her hand.
Randy couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “Sorry about that,” Randy said, his face flushing scarlet.
“No biggie,” the girl said, her breasts threatening to spill out of her shirt as she bent over to sweep the glass into the pan.
Randy stared off into space, trying to divert his attention anywhere other than down the woman’s shirt. When she was done, he thanked her and stood, reaching into his wallet to pay for the beer.
“I’ve got it,” the strange man said, placing his hand over Randy’s. “Plus, I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything, and I ain’t into dudes.”
The stranger threw his head back and laughed, his merriment turning into a coughing fit as he tried to gain control. “It’s not what you think, Randy. You seem like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I’d like to help.”
“Is that what you want?” the man asked.
“I could use the help,” Randy responded, easing back onto the stool. “I will take a beer, though.”
The stranger held out his hand. “Gabriel,” he said.
Shaking the offered hand, Randy took a moment to give the man the once-over. He was slight of build, well-dressed, and would have been handsome were it not for the livid scar running from ear to ear across the top of his bald head.
“An old accident,” Gabriel said, catching Randy staring.
“I…shit, I’m sorry. My name is…wait, you just called me Randy. How did you know?”
The men shook hands, and Gabriel grinned again, revealing a fingernail fragment wedged into his upper gum, a trickle of blood sliding out and down between his teeth. “It’s only natural to stare, and I’m sure I must have heard one of the servers say your name.”
While he couldn’t remember saying his name aloud, Randy figured he must have said it at some point. Given where his head was at, it was no surprise his memory might be muddled.
The bartender dropped off two more beers and scampered off again, his full attention now on a couple of single women sitting at the opposite end of the bar.
Gabriel took a swig of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, why so glum, Randy?”
“I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“It’s not a burden if I am asking to carry some of the weight. Tell me.”
“My company laid me off today. The whole place is closing down, and there’s no money to give anyone a severance package. I’ve got one more paycheck coming, which won’t be enough to cover all the bills.”
“Hmm, a problem, indeed,” Gabriel said, with a sigh. “I’m good at fixing things. Perhaps I can help.”
“Are you hiring?” Randy asked, hoping for an easy way out of his bind.
“No, but I can still help. You mentioned the lottery earlier. Would such a windfall solve your financial problems?”
Watching the man over the top of his glass as he drank, Randy waited for some sign that he was the brunt of a joke, but Gabriel appeared deadly serious. “It’s hundreds of millions of dollars. Of course, it would solve my problems.”
Setting his glass aside, Gabriel flipped over his beer coaster and fished a pen out of his pocket. “Okay, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you a few questions, the answers to which will allow me to set things in motion.”
Randy raised his hands. “Stop. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you are going to win the lottery.”
“Even if I believed that to be possible, there has to be a catch,” Randy scoffed.
Gabriel lowered his head and nodded. “Quite astute, Randy. There will be a price to pay somewhere down the line?”
“What price?”
“It’s different every time,” Gabriel responded with a shrug.
“You’ve done this before?”
“Not this specifically, but I have helped others in the past.”
Randy stared at the man sitting beside him and felt a knot forming in his stomach. Something felt off, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He glanced over Gabriel’s shoulder at the exit, thinking if he left now, he could go home, explain the layoff to his wife, and together they could form a plan of action. Instead, he said, “Go ahead and ask the questions.”
Gabriel nodded. “How long have you been married?”
“Sixteen years.”
Focusing on the cardboard coaster, Gabriel scribbled down a note and spoke again without looking up. “I need the ages of your children.”
A shiver crawled up Randy’s spine like cold, dead fingers caressing his back, but still, he answered. “Four, seven, and twelve.”
Another set of scribbles landed on the coaster. “Last question, how old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Gabriel added one more note, while gazing up at the bar ceiling, his lips moving as though in conversation with someone hiding in the rafters. With a nod, he returned his attention to the coaster and wrote down one more item. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a crisp dollar bill, which he wrapped around the coaster before sliding it across to Randy.
“What’s this?”
“Those are the winning lottery numbers,” Gabriel said, a grin back on his face.
Randy shoved the items into his jacket pocket and downed the rest of his beer. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Gabriel, but I need to go now.”
As he rose, Gabriel reached out and grabbed Randy by the wrist. “Play those numbers. Promise me you’ll play them.”
“I will, I promise. Thank you for the beer.”
Holding on for a moment, Gabriel nodded grimly, tears welling in his eyes. “Thank you, Randy.”
A chill wind hit Randy hard as he stepped outside the bar. He flipped up his jacket collar and stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the coaster and the dollar bill, still warm from the interior. Head down, hewalked the short distance to the convenience store on the corner, blinking against the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights as he stepped inside.
He pulled out a Multi-Millions ticket from the lottery counter and marked the numbers scribbled on the coaster. All the digits were the same as the responses he gave Gabriel a few minutes earlier, save for twenty-five, which was scribbled down as the bonus number. As he handed the ticket over, Randy wondered what the significance of the number was for Gabriel, but he soon put it out of his mind as he stuffed the lottery ticket into his wallet, shuffled outside, and headed home.
Chilled to the bone, Randy struggled to get the key into the door, his numb fingers refusing to cooperate. He finally made it and was greeted by his two youngest kids, Evan and Grace, who grabbed him around the legs, screaming, “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” on repeat.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Brenda called from the kitchen.
Randy hung his jacket on a hook behind the door and trudged to the kitchen, both little ones giggling as they clung to his legs. He reached the kitchen and shook the kids free before grabbing his wife around the waist and kissing her on the neck. “You smell amazing,” he said, nuzzling Brenda’s neck.
“You smell like beer,” she replied, giggling as the scruff on his chin tickled her tender flesh.
“Yeah, sorry. I have something I need to tell you.’
Brenda squirmed out of his grasp and turned to face him with a concerned expression. “What’s up?”
He lowered his head and let out a long, trembling breath. “It’s about work.”
“You guys are gross.”
Randy turned to face his daughter, Molly, who was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, a pair of Air Pods stuffed in her ears.
“I love you, too, daughter dearest,” Randy said, blowing a kiss toward Molly, who tilted her head to the side as though dodging the affection.
“We’ll talk after dinner once we get the brood to bed,” Brenda said.
The rest of the evening passed without incident. The little ones went to bed with the usual complaints of being hungry, needing another drink of water, and claiming to be awake while Molly skulked off to her room, the headphones still jammed in her ears.
After a quick shower, Randy headed downstairs and flopped onto the couch beside his wife, who was cranking up the volume on the TV.
“What are you watching?”
“They’re about to draw the lottery numbers,” Brenda said, arranging a pair of tickets on her lap.
Jumping off the sofa, Randy ran to the front door and pulled his lottery ticket out of his jacket pocket. He rushed back and placed the ticket on his wife’s lap. “One more for luck,” he said.
They watched in silence as the balls rattled around in the oversized glass container while the presenter rambled on about the biggest jackpot in Multi-Millions history.
“Get on with it,” Brenda yelled at the television.
The first ball popped out of the globe. “Sixteen,” said the presenter. “Next number is four.”
Randy began to feel his heart race, a high-pitched whine blasting through his ears and muting the sound from the television. He watched as the number continued to come out.
Twelve.
Thirty-Eight.
Seven.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Brenda screamed, waving Randy’s ticket. “Give us the bonus…please!.”
“Bonus number is twenty-five. That concludes the Multi-Millions draw for Tuesday, October eighteenth. Best of luck to all of you.”
Mouth hanging open, Randy turned to face his wife, who was bawling as she punched the air in excitement. She turned to her husband and waved the ticket in his face. “We won,” she sobbed.
“Yes. Yes, we did,” Randy said, and while he was happy beyond belief, he couldn’t shake the feeling the wheels of something far bigger had been set in motion.
Randy sat beside the hospital bed and held his son’s hand, fighting back the tears as he watched his boy continue to wither away. Shortly after receiving their mammoth check from the lottery people, Evan developed what they thought was a flu bug, but as time passed, things worsened until he needed a ventilator to breathe. A mere four months after becoming ill, the doctors at the hospital had tried everything but were now resigned to the fact the boy was dying.
Brenda tip-toed into the room and handed a cup of coffee to her husband. She looked like she had aged a decade in a few short months, the strain of potentially losing her son taking a toll. “How is he doing?” she asked, placing a hand on Randy’s shoulder.
“The same. Always the fucking same,” Randy sobbed. “What’s the point of having all this money if we can’t use it to save him?”
They sat together and watched over their son as the machines keeping him alive beeped like an alarm clock begging to be snoozed.
The boy’s eyes shot open, and his eyes darted around the room, abject terror etched on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
“I’ll get the doctor,” Brenda yelled, leaping to her feet and bolting for the door.
Evan tried to speak again, and Randy leaned in close. “What’s the matter, son?”
“It…”
“Daddy’s here. Tell me what you need,” Randy begged. “Please.”
“It came on the wind,” were the boy’s last words as his eyes rolled back in his head, exposing the whites and a series of black lines resembling the tributaries of some river in Hell.
“HELP,” Randy screamed. “SOMEONE HELP MY BOY!!”
The world began spinning as the doctors and nurses rushed in and pushed Randy’s chair out of the way, the wheels turning as he rolled into the corner beside Brenda. They watched in horror as the medical staff worked hard to save their son, only admitting defeat after a lengthy struggle.
“Call it,” the doctor said. “Time of death is 4:44 PM.”
“Four,” Randy muttered.
“What?” Brenda asked as she hugged her husband.
“Four was the first number on our lottery ticket. I’m paying the price.” In the excitement of the win and the jot of spending some of the winnings, Randy had never told his wife about Gabriel and the deal made in the bar.
She wrote off the comment as the words of a man in shock, leaving Randy’s side to go and be with her dead son. He watched Brenda hug the boy for a moment before joining her in the embrace, feelings of guilt and sorrow washing over him in equal waves.
Randy sat on the porch of a house he never thought he could afford and stared out at the ocean. He sipped at an overpriced glass of Scotch and watched the waves break on the shore, the movement of the sea bringing a sense of peace and calm he couldn’t find on his own.
While Brenda grieved the death of their son, Randy obsessed over the numbers. Was the number four the end of it all, the price he had to pay? Was there more coming? It was close to seven months since winning the lottery, and Randy couldn’t help but think more pain was coming. It was an irrational thought eating away at his insides like some cancerous tumor.
He took another drink and turned to the chair beside him, hoping to find Brenda there. It was a daily ritual which failed to bear fruit, as Brenda remained lost in her sorrow, the passing of their child taking a toll that a father would never understand.
Randy drank and waited, whiling away the time until the seven-month anniversary of the lottery win came and passed. The number seven had become a new obsession, but the month passed without incident, as did the twelfth month after Evan’s passing. With seven and twelve in the rearview, Randy began to relax, allowing himself to accept Evan’s passing was nothing more than a twist of fate.
Brenda struggled to keep the SUV on the road as the wind whipped across the highway, attempting to throw the vehicle into the ditch.
Grace bopped her head and sang along to the radio, her off-key stylings making Molly roll her eyes and mutter under her breath.
“Everything okay back there?” Brenda asked, eyeing her teenage daughter in the rearview mirror.
“Can you make her shut up?” Molly asked.
The urge to pull the car over to the side of the road and drag her daughter out back was strong, but Brenda swallowed the feeling whole, something she had been doing regularly since Evan’s passing. “She’s not doing anything wrong, Molly.”
“It’s annoying, is all.”
“Don’t you like my singing?” Grace asked, eyes wide and ready to spill hot tears.
Brenda eyed the rearview and smiled as she saw Molly melt under the unhappy gaze of her sister. “I love your singing, Gracie Bear. Can you please take it down a little?”
The little girl nodded and continued to sing at the same volume, only in a deeper voice. Brenda and Molly began to laugh, the sound of someone so small singing in baritone hitting them hard.
“That’s not what I meant, nugget,” Molly said, trying to stifle her laughter.
“I think you sound awesome,” Brenda said in a low voice.
The sound of happy voices echoed around the vehicle as the wind hit it broadside, sending the SUV into the path of an eighteen-wheeler in the next lane. Brenda tried to correct course but didn’t react quickly enough, screaming as the vehicle flipped and began to roll, the shadow of the semi seeming to follow.
The SUV came to rest, upside down, on the side of the road, miraculously missing the other vehicles on the highway. Brenda unbuckled her seatbelt and grunted as she fell onto the vehicle’s roof. “Are you guys okay?” she asked as she tried to right herself.
Before the girls could answer, the shadow caught up with them as the trailer keeled over and fell on the SUV, the weight crushing the girls in the back seat. Brenda screamed as their blood splashed against her face and dripped down her throat, the warm liquid choking her and rendering her silent.
Randy shuddered as the pelting rain soaked him to the bone. He ignored all attempts at shelter, shrugging off friends and family who offered jackets and umbrellas. Watching his girl’s coffins placed in the mausoleum on the sprawling family grounds, he wanted to feel all of it, all the pain and suffering the world had to offer. The truth was he knew things the others didn’t. He now knew he was responsible for the deaths in his family.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” someone said in passing, squeezing his hand.
Randy nodded, going through the motions as the math ran through his head.
It’s nineteen months to the day since I met Gabriel. My kids were seven and twelve then. Seven and twelve were my numbers, which adds up to nineteen. I’m responsible for all of this. When will my payment be over? Why not come and take me?
“So sorry for your loss, Randy.”
He ignored them all, focusing on nothing but the numbers.
What’s left? Sixteen, thirty-eight, and twenty-five. How do those numbers fit into the plan? How do I stop it all?
“If you need anything, please give us a call.”
How old is Brenda? Think, Randy, think.
“Please tell Brenda we were asking for her.”
What’s Brenda’s room number in the hospital? 178? Do the math, Randy. Does that number fit into the plan?
One by one, all the people attending the funeral service said their condolences and left, leaving Randy alone outside the mausoleum. He’d thought it strange to have it on the grounds, but it came with the new family home. With his kids gone, now ensconced in the concrete tomb, he liked the idea of having them close, feeling they were still somehow part of his daily life.
He trudged back to the house, a mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean much too large for the family, even more so now that their number had dwindled to two.
Plopping himself down on an Adirondack chair on the porch, Randy looked out at the ocean, the sound and motion of the waves bringing some sense of calm. It was his favorite spot in their home, but one which didn’t quite feel the same without Brenda sitting beside him.
Randy laid his head back and closed his eyes, the lack of sleep over the past few months weighing heavy on him. He wanted nothing more than to nod off to the sounds of the waves washing ashore, but he knew he had to get moving and go to the hospital to visit his wife. While Brenda had not sustained any major injuries in the crash, she had been in a coma since being pulled free from the wreckage. The doctors were at a loss to explain why she was still out of it. The scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, but the medical staff was working under the assumption she had sustained some brain injury in the collision.
With a loud groan, Randy lifted himself out of the chair and went inside to shower and change. He didn’t think showing up to the hospital in funeral attire would go over too well with the staff or other patients.
Not feeling up to driving, Randy ordered an Uber and strolled to the front gates of their property, waiting for the vehicle to arrive. It showed up on time, and Randy was delighted to discover the driver was not the talkative type, although he might have preferred some conversation to the political talk radio show blasting out of the speakers. It took every ounce of his willpower not to extend his leg and kick the radio until it died a slow death. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought of his wife, praying to a God he did not believe in for mercy.
“We’re here, sir,” the driver said in some untraceable accent.
“Huh?” Randy opened his eyes and wiped away the drool sliding from the corner of his mouth. “Already?”
“I did not wish to wake you.”
Randy mumbled a thank you and stepped out of the car, suddenly refreshed. He opened the Uber app and added a generous tip to the fare before stepping inside the hospital, the antiseptic scent snapping him snapping him back to the waking world.
Before heading into the private room housing his wife, Randy stopped at the nurse’s station and asked for an update on Brenda, dismayed to find there had been no change in her condition.
He stepped into the dimly lit room and made his way to the side of the bed. Randy watched as his wife’s chest rose and fell, and her eyes rolled under the closed lids.
“What are you dreaming about, my love?” he whispered in her ear. “I sure hope it’s something good.”
The minutes stretched into hours, which soon became days of no change. Randy stayed vigilant by his wife’s bedside, talking to her about everything and nothing, hoping the sound of his voice would rouse her from sleep.
It never did. Brenda passed away on the sixteenth day after the crash, a couple of days shy of her thirty-ninth birthday. Even in his sorrow, Randy couldn’t stop thinking the numbers were now more than mere coincidence. He was also aware the bonus number of twenty-five was meant for him. He resolved to live his life alone from that point forward so as not to taint anyone else with the curse he should have shouldered alone.
After years of self-imposed isolation, Randy had buckled under the weight of loneliness and adopted a border collie named Suzy. He sat in the weather-beaten Adirondack chair and watched the dog race up and down the beach, snapping at the strong wind blowing in off the ocean.
Randy shuddered as the wind buffeted his frail body. He covered himself in a blanket and continued to sit, watching a storm approaching on the horizon. Lightning flashed inside the thunderheads; each flash followed by an ominous rumble which shook the house’s frame. As the storm drew closer, Randy could feel the hair on his arms stand on end, the thin strands pulled upward by static electricity.
“Suzy. Come on, girl,” he called out. The dog ignored him and continued to bound across the sand, her tongue hanging out to one side. “Suzy!” he yelled again, his voice drowned out by a massive thunder peal that rattled his aging bones.
“She can’t hear you.”
Randy let out a surprised squeal at the sound of the voice. He turned to his left and felt his heart skip a beat as he spied Gabriel sitting in what was once Brenda’s chair. The man had not aged a day and still wore the same outfit he’d had on when Randy first met him all those years ago.
“How did you get in here?” Randy asked, trying to sound brave but unable to hide the tremor in his voice.
“Does it matter?” Gabriel asked.
“I suppose not,” Randy looked the man up and down and wondered why time had not had any effect on his appearance. “You look good.”
Gabriel grunted and managed a half-smile. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Randy glanced down to the beach and saw Suzy had stopped running. She sat still, a tough task for a border collie, and stared at the house. Even with the distance between them, Randy could see his beloved dog trembling. “So, what brings you to my humble abode?”
“I have questions.”
“You’ve got questions?” Randy scoffed. “I think I should be the one doing the asking.”
“What would you ask?”
Another clap of thunder boomed overhead, the sound echoing for a moment before the wind carried it away. “What are you?”
“I’m many things, Randy. A fixer, a collector, a…”
“But not human?”
The man frowned. “I was once.”
“What changed?”
Reaching up, Gabriel ran his fingers along the scar on his head, grimacing as though the touch were painful. “I needed help once upon a time and had to pay the price.”
“I think my tab has been paid in full,” Randy said, not believing the words spilling from his mouth.
“Not yet,” Gabriel said, tears swimming in his eyes.
Randy stood, his knees groaning in protest at the sudden movement. “Don’t you think I’ve given up enough?” he said, stabbing a finger in the direction of the mausoleum.
“What I think is of no importance.”
“What about your bonus number? What’s the importance of the number?”
Gabriel pointed at the chair. “Please sit, Randy. You have some choices to make.”
“I don’t have time for any more of your bullshit, pal.” Randy said, puffing out his chest in defiance.
Staring out to sea, Gabriel nodded. “That’s true. Time is running out.” He turned to face Randy and pointed at the chair, speaking more sternly this time. “Sit.”
The fight had long since gone out of Randy, so he did as told and slumped back into the chair. “What do you want me to do?”
“Tell me, when was the last time you were happy?”
“When the lottery numbers hit. I believed all my problems were solved. How wrong was I?”
Gabriel looked around at the property, whistling as he took in the house. “You would never have had this beautiful home without your lottery money.”
“Maybe, but I would still have had my family.” Randy glared at his unwelcome visitor. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“I told you back when we met, I had no idea what would happen, what the price would be.”
“But you knew it would be bad?”
Gabriel turned away as though ashamed. “I did, but I had no choice. Such is my lot in life.”
The thunder roared again, and the wind picked up, rattling the shutters and causing the mausoleum door to shake on its hinges. “What about the choices?” Randy asked.
“You or the dog?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s a simple question. You or the dog?”
“The question isn’t quite so simple if I have no idea what the outcome of my answer will be.”
“You or the dog?”
The question bounced around inside his head as he tried to make sense of it. Am I choosing to save the dog or give it a death sentence? What if I pick the dog and it means the same fate as my family?
The wind blew stronger, but the pounding on the mausoleum door grew louder as though trying to be heard above the approaching storm.
“Tick-tock, Randy.”
“The dog.”
Both men turned to the beach in time to see Suzy tuck her tail between her legs and raise her head, a loud howl escaping her mouth as the wind buffeted her from all sides. She opened her mouth to unleash and yelp, but before the sound arrived, her body blew apart, chunks of fur and flesh flying in all directions.
“Sweet Christ!” Randy yelled, swallowing hard to choke down the bile rising in his throat. “Why would you harm a sweet animal?” he sobbed.
“You chose the dog.”
“I chose for her to live.”
“All I do is ask the questions. Now we move on to the next of your choices.”
“I don’t want to play anymore.”
“This is my game now, Randy. Don’t you know what day it is?”
“I…”
“The first time we met was twenty-five years ago today. It was my bonus to you, don’t you see?”
“I don’t.”
“I gave you twenty-five years of life. You were supposed to die that night. Hit by a drunk driver as you walked home.”
Head in hand, Randy shook his head. “I would have chosen my death over losing my family.”
“That’s not how any of this works, but it leads to your final choice.”
“Which is what?”
“Stay or go?”
The porch foundations trembled as the full force of the storm made landfall. A screeching sound filled the air as the mausoleum door tore free. Randy watched in horror as four pairs of hands reached out from inside, pulling themselves free from the tomb.
“Stay or go?”
“I don’t know what I’m choosing. Help me, Gabriel. Please,” Randy begged.
“I’m not supposed to.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
Gabriel raised his eyes to the sky and waited for the next round of thunder to hit. When it did, he spoke. “Stay, and they, your family, will tear you apart, limb from limb. It will be slow and oh so painful.”
“What else?”
“When they are done, I will take their souls and yours to a place of torment, a place where agony is eternal.”
“Then I…”
Gabriel raised a hand and waited for another peal of thunder. “If you choose to go, your family will come with me, but to a place of eternal happiness.”
“What about me?”
“You will take my place. I will finally get to rest, and you will see your family once you complete your work.”
Randy whipped his head around in time to see his family shuffling out of the mausoleum, pieces of rotten flesh sloughing off them with each passing step. “How long before I see them again, as they were?”
“It depends on how soon you collect.”
“I choose go. Take my family to a better place.”
Gabriel stood and spread his arms wide, the familiar grin back on his face. “Come to me,” he said.
The skies cleared, rays of sunlight burning the clouds away, bringing an end to the storm. Randy turned in time to see his family, made whole once more, step onto the porch. If they saw him, they didn’t let on, as they all walked past Randy and fell into Gabriel’s embrace.
“What do I do now?” Randy asked.
“Listen. The instructions will come with the wind. Time for us to go.”
Randy squinted as Gabriel and his family fused and turned into a blazing ball of light which burned out in mere moments. Tears streamed down his face as he wished for release from years of torment. Instead of sympathy, a voice came on the wind. “Time to go to work, Randy.”