The Elementalists

MARK

                  

I don't know how long I've been running, or where I'm going, but I know that I can't stop. I have to keep going. I have to find a way to get to the others. I promised Robin that I'd save her; I promised her that I'd come back for her. And to save her, I need all of the help I can get.

   I hope she's okay.

   My chest aches, and my lungs beg for air, but I don't stop running. I can't feel my legs anymore, so that helps me keep going. The less pain, the better, and the faster I can run to find the others.

   I stop short when I realize that I don't even know what state I'm in.

   "How am I going to get back to Texas?" I ask myself aloud, as if expecting an answer. I sit down on the grass and try to think things over.

   Well, I could use a phone booth, if I had any money.

   Money. Why does everything have to cost money? Where am I going to get the money to use the phone booth? I could use it to call my parents, and maybe they'd drive here and get me.

   No. They'd wonder where I've been and then yell at me for leaving, and then never let me leave the house again.

   I haven't thought much about my parents, but now that I've begun thinking of them, I feel bad for them. They must be so worried for me.

   I should call them, to let them know that I'm okay, I tell myself. Then I think better of it. No, phone calls can be traced. The government would come for me, and I can't risk that. Yet.

   "This sucks!" I yell in anger, at no one in particular. I'm all alone in the woods—it always seems to be the woods is our refuge when we escape, doesn't it?—and I have no idea how I'm going to get to my friends. I stand up and look at the sky; the sun is just beginning to set. I sigh, wondering how long I've been away from home.

   "Mister," a voice says, and I jump.

   "Who's there?!" I ask, backing away from the sound of the voice.

   "Don't worry, Mister," the voice says. I realize that it's the voice of a young boy, and I calm down.

   "Who are you?" I ask. "Come out of hiding, I won't hurt you unless you try to hurt me."

   "Don't worry, Mister," the voice repeats. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Daemon sent me. Sorry I couldn't come here in person; it's too far to travel on foot. I could've, but I wouldn't have gotten here on time."  

   "Daemon?" I ask. I remember the discussion that Robin and I had about him, and I get an eerie feeling. "Are you sure you're not gonna hurt me?"

   "How could I, Mister?" the boy asks, and he walks out from behind a tree. But it's not exactly a boy... it's a see-through outline of a white-haired boy. I gasp.

   "You're the boy I saw in my vision," I whisper. "Except, you're a... a ghost..."

   The boy—ghost, whatever it is—laughs. His voice is soft and quiet, and it reminds me of snow. "I'm not a ghost, Mister," the boy says, "I'm an angel. My name is Angel, and I'm asleep right now, in my meadow. I sent my spirit here to help you, 'cause Daemon told me to."

   "You can't be an angel," I say, "because angel's live in Heaven."

   "I'm an angel," the boy tells me. "I'm an angel that is here to help you."

   I nod. "Okay," I say slowly, "so, how much time do we have?"

   The boy—Angel—looks at the sky. "Until the sun rises and I awake in my meadow," he replies. "I'll take you as far as I can."