My smile faded. The evening breeze felt cold against my cheeks. "An angel."
Daniel watched my face intently. "An angel. A real angel. I never told that doctor about this. I know exactly what he'd have thought of this new development, but, yeah, it was a real angel."
"How do you know? What did he look like?"
"Well, that's the strange part. He didn't look at all like what I expected. He ... well, I guess 'she' ... was a Chinese-American drag-queen ..." He laughed, and looked away self-consciously. "A drag-queen angel. Man, now that sounds crazy."
I touched Daniel on the arm gently. "No, it doesn't. In fact, that's the most sane thing I've heard you say all night."
He looked relieved, but skeptical. "Why do you believe that, of all things, Dee? That's the last thing I thought anyone would believe."
"I've met an angel, too." It was the first time I'd admitted that out loud, and I surprised myself by saying so without hesitation. "He's an Italian cop with a fondness for leather and blue jeans."
He laughed. "Mine preferred sequins."
"I'm sure the two of them would look great together."
"Heaven must be one strange-ass place." Daniel shook his head, giving me a ghost of a smile. A familiar twinkle lit his eyes.
"Neither of us is likely to find out."
"Hey, I might," he said. When I shot him a look, he added, "Well, I'm trying to change my life. I mean, for once, I think heaven might be my kind of place. I always thought heaven must be boring – perfect peace and all that. But, if drag queens and cops are angels, hell, it almost makes me think I might actually enjoy eternity up there."
"I don't know," I said, thinking of spending forever with Michael. I shook my head to banish the thought. "What did the angel tell you besides the fact that Letourneau wasn't the Second Coming? Anything?"
"Lots of stuff. We had long talks. Ariel, his ... or, rather, her name was Ariel, was convicted for gender bending. Ten years she got for that, can you believe it?" When I looked at him quizzically, he explained. "She was my cellmate. Anyway, I took notes. It's all in here."
He pressed the Bible into my hands. "I knew you'd understand, Dee. I ..."
His words were drowned out by the thrum of helicopter blades springing to life. Four sleek, black government stealth helicopters rose over the rim of the stadium, throwing beams of bright light down on the stadium.
"Scramble, Malachim!" Rebeckah's voice sounded far away coming through the thin thread in my ear. "Cover them!"
TXT transcript from McMannus Fan interactive 3-D BBS 2/25/76
kid@LINK.com
"Did anyone (beside me) catch the HardLine LINK broadcast last night? The skycams caught a glimpse of our girl. You should've heard the commentary. Twenty-seven seconds of wild conjecture of why, who, and where. I figure she was out and about trying to sneak into church. It is Lent, you know."
justin@LINK.com
"We agree on many things, my friend, but in this case you're dead wrong. Deidre is tougher than that. She doesn't even miss the solace of the church."
kid@LINK.com
"Justy my man, you're so unplugged. Get a grip. McMannus is tough AND sensitive. Run archived interview 10/11/25 on the main fan node if you need a refresher."
shelia@LINK.com
"You guys need a life. Like any of us know her well enough to talk. 'Kid,' what I want to know is what did HardLine say? What was she wearing? (More illegal pantsuits, I hope. That girl's got rocks!)"
manny/BBSsysop@LINK.com
'Kid,' what I want to know is how you keep getting on this BBS with a handle. LINK protocol demands full disclosure. If there is a LINK hack in progress, the Tech-Squad will shut us down so fast it'll make our heads spin. This BBS is unlicensed enough as it is – the last thing I need is a spike sent right to the cop shop every time your unregistered name pops up. Shut down or uncloak!"
mouse@mousenet.com
"RE-lax, Mr. Martinez. Ain't no pansy spike built yet that could tag this rodent's code. But out of the goodness of my heart, I'll decloak. Shelia, dear, to answer your question
shelia@LINK.com
"Thanks, Kid ... Mouse! You're the coolest! Hey, speaking of gender-bending injunctions, – can we start a thread on how low-rez the gender-bending regulations are? I swear, I'd kill to be able to go outside in a comfy pair of jeans."
Chapter 17
Spotlights danced through the stadium as the copters encircled the ballpark. The blades chopped at the night sky. A metallic voice rang out, "This is the police. Lay down your weapons."
"Weapons? I'm unarmed," Daniel said, as we ran for cover. Giving me a sidelong glance, he added, "And it's not like you could hide anything under that skin suit."
I ignored his implied question. If things got worse, Daniel would realize that the Malachim were here and armed to the teeth. I was more concerned about how the police found us so quickly.
"I can't believe it's the cops again," I shouted, vaulting over the bleachers in a mad dash for the entrance to the interior of the arena. "Someone must have betrayed us."
"Don't look at me. I sure as heck don't want to go back to prison," Daniel said between breaths.
The deafening noise of air through blades precluded further conversation. I stopped running and looked up to see the shiny black belly of a helicopter looming directly above us. That the police had pulled a gas-guzzling beast out of storage just for us was a bad sign. The spotlight was aimed beyond my shoulder, so I could see someone leaning out of the door of the car. The figure was dressed in black and was difficult to distinguish against the night sky. He had something trained on us, possibly a scope of some kind, because only half of his pale face was visible.
"There is a US Marshal here," an amplified voice said.
And a police sniper, I thought to myself, looking up at the helicopter. The machine bobbed up and down in the air, as though agreeing with my unspoken thought. Hot wind blasted down, ruffling my hair. Daniel's coat snapped in the mechanical breeze.
"Surrender the prisoner," the voice commanded.
"I'm not going back there," Daniel said from where he stood, just behind my shoulder.
"Don't worry, Danny," I said, squaring my shoulders. "I'm not giving up without a fight. We have to make a break for it," I told Daniel. My eyes stayed locked on the figure in the helicopter.
"Ready when you are, partner," he said, a familiar tone in his voice.
The instant my feet moved, a red light flashed from the helicopter. I barely formed the word, "laser sights," when, I heard a deafening series of explosions. Daniel cried out. I spun on my heels. Daniel crumpled in the spotlight, clutching his chest. Hundreds of flechettes had buried themselves in his flesh. The rapid fire of the gun was so fast that, as Danny had moved to protect his chest, his hands had become pinioned there. "Oh, Danny! No!"