MISSING TIME: "313" Volume 1 of 3

MISSING TIME: Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

ZACHARY

"Can you be brave for me?"

"Well, aren't you just a little angel?"

The woman, her hair tied up in a graying blonde bun, leaned over the counter and peered down at him, standing holding hands with his father.  She pushed her glasses up on her nose.

"What's your name, hon?" she asked.

Zachary said nothing, just shifted his feet and clutched his Bible to his chest.  His grip on his father's hand tightened.  His father was slim, somewhat frail in appearance, his dark brown hair balding on top, with a sparse comb-over.  They both wore very plain clothes; Zachary's father didn't care for anything too flashy or colorful.  Moreover, most of what they owned, including the plain white t-shirt and blue jeans Zachary wore, had been donated, and showed the signs of much use.

"Son," his father said gently, "do you want to show the lady your name?"

He nodded, reluctantly, and reached up, holding his Bible up to her.

"You want me to see your Bible?" she asked, a bit perplexed.

Zachary let go of his father's hand to open the front cover.  There, scrawled on the inside, were these words:

MY NAME IS ZACHARY

"Aww, your name is Zachary, huh?" she said slowly.  She was doing what everyone did eventually, speaking slowly and over-emphasizing words, as if speaking to a dog.  "He don't talk?" she asked his father.

"He hasn't spoken yet," his father said.  He tussled Zachary's blond hair as she handed back the old, careworn Bible.  "I like to think he's saving it up for the right time.  Someday, he's gonna have something important to say.  My boy is special."

"Well, he's real sweet," she said as she rang up their purchase on the register.  "That'll be fifty-seven dollars, sir."

Wallet half-open, his father paused.  "Fifty-seven?"

"Yes sir," she said with a smile.

"It's thirty-two," he said.  "It's always been thirty-two."

She frowned.  "I'm sorry, the price went up just this month.  Prices keep going up."

His father took his money out and counted.  "I only have forty dollars, ma'am.  I'm out of work, I do some odd jobs, but I...I don't make much."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, "it's fifty-seven, I can't sell it for less than that.  I'd get in trouble."

"Please, is there anyone else I can speak with? I need my medicine."

"I'm very sorry," she said flatly, her friendly demeanor gone.

Zachary's father was silent, his eyes searching about for what more to do, and finding nothing.  "God bless you," he said softly.

"Next," she said.

His father took his hand, and led him from the store.

*****

Zachary wasn't sure what to think when the bus swerved for the first time.  He braced himself with his hands on the seat in front of him and looked about.

A beautiful light was shining in through all the windows, and he could hear something: voices.  A high-pitched, almost eerie singing drifted in on the light.

Zachary looked out the window, and that's when he saw them.

There were angels.  There were angels everywhere.