*Chapter Six: The Rescue*

Gloria struggled to keep her brown eyes open any longer. She knew that if she closed them, she might loose consciousness. Angels couldn't die, but at the moment, she realized that she had never experienced this much pain before in her lifetime.

As time slowly passed, it became harder to breathe. Every time she heaved her chest, a surge of pain overcame her body and soul. But she just had to hold on a little longer—long enough.

The night seemed to get darker as the hour drew late. Circles of clouds were rolling into the night sky, gradually making the dazzling midnight stars oblivious. Perhaps no one would find her there in the middle of a dark alley. She couldn't give up hope. There had to be some reason that God had all this happen. It was all up to Rose now, whether the young angel wanted to accept it or not. Gloria knew perfectly well that Rose had no idea what was happening—or that the 21rst-century angel was an angel. But she would soon find out.

Suddenly, as if on cue to Gloria's pain, a dim light pierced the dark blanket, lightening her spirits. As it came closer, she realized that it took the shape of a man—but not just any man. Gloria could recognize that glorious light from anywhere. The man was an angel.

She wanted to call out to him, but each time she opened her mouth, only a silenced crackle escaped her dry lips. Finally, she realized that it was no use. Perhaps he would see her.

For a moment, he bent down to touch Joe's chest, as if feeling for a heart beat. When feeling no movement, he slowly stood up. But the sound of the gravel beside him crunching made him turn his tall figure towards Gloria. At the moment he saw her, he immediately rushed to her side and kneeled down next to her, the glorious light now faded. In the darkness, neither of them could make out each other's features, but Gloria felt safe, knowing that another angel was with her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered softly, squinting at her in the pitch black. Pain and adrenaline rushed through her body as she wished she could answer him. The only way she found possible was by giving his hand a gentle squeeze—as hard as she dared. He seemed to relax. His eyes shone like emeralds in the darkness. "I'll get you to the nearest hospital as soon as possible. I'm going to help you."

Gloria tensed at the tone of his voice. It was so comforting, so sincere—so familiar. And his green eyes triggered something in her mind, causing her to wonder about this angel even more. He was either in Search and Rescue or an Angel of Death. And that made her think more.

Father, she thought. I really need the strength to speak. Please grant it to me. Her silent prayer seemed to be answered immediately.

"You're…you're an a-angel," she stuttered breathlessly. She could barely make out his grin in the darkness.

"How can you tell?" he asked as he pressured her wound with a piece of cloth.

"Because…" her weak words trailed off. "I-I'm one…t-too," she scarcely managed. His emerald eyes widened and he peered at her more closely. Still unable to catch her features in the darkness, his mouth formed a stiff line.

"You shouldn't talk, angel," he said in a cheerful voice. She had to smile at his words.

Slowly, he took the pressure off of her wound and lifted her into his arms. Gloria tried to see him clearly, but without her glasses combined with the pitch black, she decided it impossible.

His arms had a loving grip around her, showing her that he cared very much. As he walked down the alley with her in his tight grasp, he knew his assignment would have to wait.

A few minutes later, a siren was blazing in his ears as he set down his cell phone.

"Angel," he whispered into her ear, darkness still surrounding them. "Hold on, the ambulance is coming. I have to go, but you'll be safe." Gloria didn't respond, but let her soul whisper an 'okay' back to him. As she lay on the bench, a coat rapped around her tightly, her eyes followed the mysterious angel into the pitch black. And just then, the lights of the arriving ambulance shone on his back profile. She gasped and wanted to call out to him.

It was Andrew.

As the lights of the blaring ambulance flashed in her face, she lay still in the fast moving automobile. Even hooked up to oxygen, it was hard to breathe. And her mind kept thinking of Andrew. If only there had been one street light, she would have gotten to thank her friend. It had been nearly three years since she had seen any of her friends.

"We've arrived in the parking lot," the driver yelled into his speaker. "Get ready. Over."

"Readying the cart. Over and Out," a woman's voice yelled back in crackles.

Gloria tensed as she felt the roaring transport come to a halting stop and two men lift up the bed she was on. Even though she kept her eyes closed, she knew that they were carrying her into the hospital. And soon she could tell that she was being transferred to a rolling cart that was pushed by a few of the staff members.

It seemed to be hours before a doctor entered her room. She glanced at the clock. To her dismay, it was eleven o' clock in the morning, and she had never felt this drowsy in her life.

"Hello, miss," the doctor greeted her in a soothing voice. He sat down in a chair next to her bed, a clipboard and pen in his hands. "I'm Doctor Matthews and I'll be helping you recover."

"What happened…I don't understand!" Gloria stammered in a weak and hoarse voice. She tried to sit up, but her stomach churned and she felt like she was about to throw up.

"Now, now, young lady," he said gently. "Just lay back. Last night, a kind gentleman called an ambulance. You were shot in the chest—a few inches away from your heart…"

"I'm aware of those matters," the angel said with a furrowed brow. "I mean to say that I don't commemorate anything after I was carried into the hospital…" She paused. "The last thing I can recall is being lifted onto a rolling cart."

"Miss, we had to bring you into immediate surgery to remove the bullet from your chest. You fell into unconsciousness, and for a while, we guessed you would go into a coma." Doctor Matthews smiled. "But you were strong and you held on. Now, we couldn't identify you. You weren't carrying any ID on you. What is your name, miss?"

"Gloria," she replied meekly.

"Last name?" he asked, jotting down notes on his clipboard.

"I'm not equipped with one," the angel said with a grin, almost laughing out loud. It did sound quite funny every time she admitted that. "It's a long story," she continued after seeing the puzzled look on his face.

"Not equipped with one?" the doctor repeated curiously. "What are you? Some kind of 21rst-century Einstein?" he asked with a laugh.

"Something like that," Gloria joked. Then nausea hit her like a bullet. She hung her head down, her cheeks turning pale.

"You're feeling nauseous, right?" Matthews asked her, laying a hand on her shoulder. He handed her a plastic dish. "I'm not guaranteeing that there will be vomiting, but considering the surgery last night, you've had a rough time. And you may also be experiencing pain in you upper left shoulder by your chest. That is anything but unusual. That bullet was really dug into you. You're a lucky one, Gloria," Matthews told her, a grin playing his face. She nodded, wondering when she'd be cured of this mess.

"Thank you, Doctor," she whispered.

"I'll send some of my nurses in to tend to you in a few minutes. In the mean time, I'll let you rest. Here's the TV controller if you feel up to watching something." He set down the remote next to her. She nodded and rested her head gently on her pillow. Her mind was spinning and the nausea kept churning her stomach.

Like the doctor had promised, ten minutes later, two nurses entered her hospital room with a few pills and a cup of water. The first nurse looked in her mid twenties. She had striking red hair with multiple freckles coating her skin. Her deep blue eyes were filled with passion and concern. The second nurse was older with slight graying hair. She looked to be about sixty. Her black hair was twisted up in a bun, and her Asian skin shimmered in the light.

"Gloria?" the elder nurse asked with a smile. "I'm Janette and this is my trainee Amanda. We'll be your nurses." Janette's Oriental eyes thinned as her smile grew.

"We brought some pain reliever and some pills to help your stomach settle down a wee bit," Amanda said with a charming Irish accent. Gloria had to wince. It reminded her of Monica so much.

"Thank you," the angel managed. She carefully swallowed the pills down. When she had finished her water, Janette left the room, but Amanda lingered behind.

"Are you up to breakfast?" she asked her patient. Gloria shook her head.

"I think I'll wait until my stomach feels like it will agree to food." The angel lay back down after Amanda left. "Oh, Father," she prayed quietly, stopping to wince from the pain of her shoulder. "What good am I in here?"

******

Monica sat with her dark eyes gazing absentmindedly at the crackling fire, each spark and flame reflecting in the shadow of her sight. Her mind was clouded with an emotion she had never experienced. Actually, her emotions were cold at the moment. And Andrew's being late did not add pleasure to any of it.

She looked up to the clouded sky. The quarter moon revealed itself and peeked out of the atmosphere. The moon was bright and forced her to look away. The night was getting colder each minute; heat was stifled into the darkness, none knowing of its presence at all.

"Andrew," she mumbled, hardly admitting to herself that she longed for his presence. "Where are you?"

At least a half an hour later, fatigue grew in her weary human form and her brown eyes muffled shut. Fortunately, she managed to make it inside the tent after putting out the flames. The smell of smoke obstinately refused to disappear. Her clothing was soaked through with it.

Crawling into her sleeping bag, she experienced her first night in a tent—and alone. It was cold and silent, on occasion of an owl hooting. But the sound of crickets and frogs in the wavering background echoed through her head, only for her to realize that most of it was all in her mind. Was she asleep and dreaming? She decided that. After all, the pain was gone.

But all that failed to endure when she felt a movement beside her. Without warning, she turned over to find a motionless Andrew lying, seeming to be in a deep sleep. She knew he wasn't, but rather just playing the part to appear to have been there for a while.

"I know you're awake," she mumbled in a tired lilt. He flashed open his emerald green eyes and sighed. He stared blankly at the ceiling of the tent. Before he could say a word, she continued, "Why didn't you come back for the fire? You said…"

"I know what I said," he interrupted. "But my assignment was complicated and something added onto it." He paused. "I'm sorry, Monica. I really regret not being here when I said I would, but…" his words trailed off. "I guess this vacation isn't turning out as great as I thought it would. We've hardly gotten to spend any time together."

"I waited for quite a while," Monica uttered in almost a whisper. "You were beginning to worry me…"

"I'm sorry," the angel of death repeated, sitting up half way and looking directly at her. When he saw the look of hurt in her brown eyes, he realized that behind all that coldness, her heart did care.

"I'm not tired any more," Monica mused. She sat up and crossed her arms that were covered in goose bumps.

"Are you cold?" Andrew asked in a concerned voice. She defiantly shook her head. But he could see the dishonest look that played her face. Slowly, he reached over and touched her arm. "You're ice cold," he said quietly. She quickly pulled her arm away and turned her gaze to her sleeping bag. "Here." He took off his flannel over shirt and covered her shoulders.

She managed a stiff thank you and said, "But I'm really not that…"

"Don't give me that," he ordered sternly. "You don't have to be embarrassed. Why would you be anyway?" the angel of death asked suddenly.

"I'm not embarrassed," she almost laughed. "I'm just not…oh forget it!" she said in a fluster. She ran her fingers through her brilliant auburn hair.

"What do you say we go out and have that fire I promised you. I'm not tired anymore either," he suggested with an obvious look approaching his handsome face. She hesitated, pondering his words in her mind. For some reason, part of her wanted to ignore him. But as her thoughts flowed in her mind, she knew why. She pictured the small white object in her head and gulped as a feeling of nausea filled her body.

"Okay," she said shakily. Noticing her tone, he looked at her with concerned emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked his friend. She nodded and slowly crawled out of her sleeping bag. A fire might be nice, she decided. At least for a while. But what would she do when the pain returned?

A squeeze at her hand forced her to travel back into the real world. Andrew was smiling at her, his emerald eyes sparkling in the moonlight. As he stared at her, a feeling of guilt came over him.

"Do you want anything—hungry at all?" she asked him, trying to sound willing. He shrugged. "I could cook up something if you'd like," Monica said.

"You—cook—I don't know about that, honey. I think we're better off waiting until morning for a nice breakfast in town before we begin our work," he answered quickly.

She watched him give the ashes and sparks a blow as a fire came to life. Its orange flames hypnotized her, creating her mind to fall into another spell that brought her back into her own world. The flames slowly died down and the night became still.

"I'm starting to fall asleep," she mumbled, not realizing her words had escaped her mouth. A yawn overcame her actions, followed by a stretch.

"Here," he said, outstretching his arms. A slight smile grew on his lips, and he raised his eyebrows in a question. As much as she wanted to back away from him, the offer was too much to resist—just like so many other things that day. Her mind drifted back to the visit with Monique, and then the white object that lay in her suitcase. Maybe this wasn't the right way to stop the pain. Then her mind flashed back to life and she saw Andrew's outstretched arms. Willingly, she backed into them and rested her head on his chest. "I love you," he whispered softly into her ears, the heat of his breath striking her skin. But she was too dazed to answer. And the next thing she knew, warm light was streaming into the tent.

It was morning.