Chapter 16: Such a Lovely Place
"Who the hell called for a unit?"
"This is Whiskey-Oh-Two. Motion sensor went off at 537 north, over."
"Fucking A. We're sending a car."
"Copy that, Jailbird. Whiskey-Oh-Two standby ten."
"Cool it, Wazowski. Zack ain't listening to the damn radio. Over."
Listening to soldiers' transmissions was a lot like listening to his siblings' bickering over Angel Radio, even though the angels were rarely as polite. Angel Radio, of course, was a name Dean had come up with several years ago and Castiel had subsequently adopted. Somehow, it became common slang among the angels who, to his amusement, were unaware of its origin.
Not that he could hear much, these days. Not since Earth fell and Heaven closed its gates while he and Dean had still been in Purgatory. From time to time he overheard snippets of song or conversation, but they were faint and fleeting, coming through whatever crack in the gates that had allowed him to absorb small amounts of power while he remained on Earth.
There was a single upside to Tlaloc clipping his wings. The damage, although temporary, also hurt his ability to absorb more energy from Heaven. The sigils that amplified his recharging over the past year had cracked his grace, made it fragile like fine glass. Had he been absorbing more power without the sigils to contain him, his grace would have imploded. It was fractured and brittle, yes, but at least it was whole.
Drawing on his more extravagant abilities was painful, not to mention dangerous, often leaving him grasping for control. Fortunately, he was able to channel some residual power into the vessel, making it stronger than a normal human's, its senses sharper. Even his Jedi Skills, as Enid had called them, were simply part of the human normal condition, although heightened beyond the standard spectrum (really, what did they think psychics were?)
His heightened hearing was a very useful ability, he'd found, although it did require his concentration. They didn't have to wait long for the soldiers to arrive; a large vehicle came quickly into view, moving down the hill in their direction. Castiel extended his hearing to pick up on the soldiers' conversation once he knew they'd been spotted. To his relief, it wasn't immediately antagonistic.
("oh hell, they've got kids" and "are we really gonna send them away?" and "too many damn mouths to feed as is").
The soldiers spilled out the open back of the vehicle when it came to a stop a short distance from the barrier. They were all dressed similarly: patterned, loose fitted trousers with boots, some in just plain t-shirts while others wore jackets made of the same patterned fabric. All of them carried rifles. None of the weapons were currently aimed at them, but that was something that could change in moment's notice.
There was a short, tense silence while the two groups studied one another from across the barrier. The uniformed soldiers on one side, Castiel and the children on the other.
"Well, you're not Zack," said one soldier, her eyebrows raised.
"My name is Castiel." He acknowledged her statement with a nod. Privately, he thought that referring to the undead as a single entity was odd, but not entirely inaccurate, considering the creatures' singular state of mind and herding tendencies.
The woman was smaller in stature than her companions but without a doubt the highest ranking soldier there. According to the print on her uniform, her name was Rodriguez, but Castiel supposed that could be her rank as well. Humanity's approach to organized fighting had been wide and varied throughout the years and across the regions, he'd found. For a species with no natural predatory attributes, they'd always been surprisingly aggressive.
Rodriguez's expression was cool. "And what brings you our way, Castiel?"
"She did." Castiel tugged gently on Daliah's hand. She'd inexplicably hidden behind him. The expression on Rodriguez's face wavered when Daliah stepped into her line of sight.
"Holy shit," said one of the soldiers. "Isn't that Isaac's kid?"
(Castiel was becoming better at reading facial expressions, but sometimes nuances were lost on him. Later, he would berate himself for not recognizing that the soldiers' disbelieving expressions were also laden with sorrow.)
Rodriguez's command to "stand down" sounded more like a warning, and not just to her soldiers. She crossed the barrier with a practiced leap, coming to stand in front of Castiel and Daliah. Taking the girl's shoulder, she took a moment to study her, as if to make sure she was not a changeling or anything of the sort.
"Are you okay?" Rodriguez asked.
Daliah nodded, not letting go of Castiel's hand.
Rodriguez turned her gaze to the rest of the children in the group, lingering on Claire and Carl who were both obviously injured. She looked them over once, twice, three times before finally asking in a tense voice, "You brought anyone else with you?"
"I'm sorry," Castiel said simply. "There's no one else."
Her stern expression crumbled for a second. Then she nodded and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Okay. Kid, let's go. The rest of you, too. We've got doctors to look you over."
At Rodriguez's prompting ("leave the pedo van, no one's coming this way but Zack") they squeezed into the back of the soldiers' vehicle. It was large enough to accommodate all of them, although some (Castiel included) had to be seated cross-legged on the floor.
Rodriguez was in the passenger's seat, using the radio. It was noisy where Castiel and the children were seated, the netted fabric over the heads was doing nothing to block out the wind and the noise from the engine. Rodriguez's voice was low enough that Castiel knew they were not meant to overhear her.
("Tell General Ulysses we're bringing new people in. I know what he said, but they've got Isaac's daughter with them.")
"Cool jeep," Jake called over the noise, drawing Castiel's attention. He'd commandeered a spot on the bench, his knees bracing his brother's back. "Your engine's knocking, though."
"She's had a tough run." A soldier who'd identified himself as Rollins patted one of the jeep's rails. "How the hell d'you make it here in that big ass van, anyway? Roads are supposed to be jammed all the way to NYC."
"They were," Jake said smugly. "We cleared them."
"Bullshit," Rollins replied. Castiel tuned out the rest of their argument.
As the vehicle approached the settlement, Castiel realized there was an unusual scent in the air. He needed a moment to discern what it was. The hill was patched foliage, wild grass becoming yellow from draught. The town itself was surrounded by another barrier; tall walls constructed with seemingly every type of hard material they had been able to get their hands on. There were makeshift watchtowers as well, not too far apart from each other, manned by more soldiers.
"So, you're making 'rounds to bring these kids to their homes? Awfully kind of you." It took Castiel a moment to realize that the blond man who'd been sitting next to him was, in fact, addressing him.
"Yes?" he said, unsure of the correct response. He knew the words were anything but appreciative.
"Hill," one of the soldiers addressed the blond man. "Leave it to the general."
The tall gates were opening in anticipation of their arrival. Daliah was practically hanging from the side of the jeep. Claire was hanging on to one of her arms, worried expression on her face, afraid the girl would leap out of the moving vehicle. Quite a few people came pouring through the gates. Some of them were dressed in uniform, but most of them were not. In fact, the soldiers were making a half-hearted attempt to keep the crowd inside.
Castiel couldn't see Daliah's parents among their numbers. He knew their likeness, as after all he had manifested their presence when he'd absorbed her soul, and he had seen them quite clearly afterward when she'd allowed him to look in her mind.
"Where's my mom and dad?" Daliah wondered, trying and failing to meet the soldiers' eyes. "Didn't you tell them I was coming?"
At their lack of response, the realization finally dawned on Castiel. He was a coward, for he turned down his senses, dreading the event that would surely follow.
The vehicle came to a stop in front of the gates. Claire let go of Daliah, and in a split second, she was gone, crashing into the arms of a young woman. She looked similar enough in color and facial structure to be Daliah's relative; a sister or a cousin, perhaps. No one else carried the same similarity, much to Castiel's dismay. The family he'd seen in Daliah's memories had been at least twenty souls strong.
Following the soldiers, Castiel stepped out of the jeep, coming to stand at a respectable distance. The remaining children clustered around him, quietly watching the unfolding reunion. Claire took his hand in hers, squeezing lightly.
Daliah repeated her earlier question. The older girl's face was lined with tears when she replied in a voice too soft to hear. As it turned out, the normal human hearing range was more than enough to pick up on Daliah's response of grief-stricken crying.
"Oh no, oh no," Claire was murmuring. "What happened?"
"We sent out search parties for the missing kids," Rodriguez's voice seemed to be unnaturally steady. "Plenty of civilians volunteered, didn't really give us a choice." She sighed. "Used to be, that family was the biggest one in town. Now look at those two."
The two girls held each other tightly, bodies trembling in shared grief. Several people from the crowd tried to draw them elsewhere, laying comforting hands on their shoulders. The girls didn't budge.
Then, something unexpected happened. A tall, sandy-haired man broke out of the crowd. His eyes were wild as he ran straight toward them, calling out for-
"Daddy?" Annabelle cried out.
She met the man halfway, jumping into his arms and knocking them both to the ground. Neither seemed to care as they clung to one another, openly sobbing.
"Qué día," Rodriguez breathed, shaking her head.
Castiel looked at Rodriguez questioningly.
"We picked up Marv a couple of months back, same day we lost Isaac and his wife," she explained. "Said his camp got overrun, all gone but him. Man was half dead when we found him." She continued to watch the father-daughter reunion, adding, "damn lucky."
Castiel wasn't sure if he agreed or not.