Z.A. Maxfield - When Angels Fall.pdf - ebook mm - amiga25

When Angels Fall

By Z.A. Maxfield

Cover Art by Lex Valentine at Winterheart Design

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the

copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for

commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your

friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other

works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Once, you asked me what manner of being I am. I told you then, because you could never

understand, I simply am.

I am lighter than air. I am denser than gold. I am taller than your largest building, and I

can fit inside the crystalline structure of the finest flake of snow. I am immense, yet I could dance

with my peers on the head of a pin.

But I won’t.

Dancing on the heads of pins seems like an extraordinary waste of time, unless you ask it of

me.

I suppose it never occurred to you that I do everything you ask of me and more because in

all the worlds you are the only one to whom I will ever say, “I am yours.”

Why?

When you were very young you found a yellow pup and coaxed it to you, luring it with soft

sounds and gentle hands. You knew everything it would ever be, just as I know the whole truth of

you. You didn’t wait for him to grow or prove himself; you simply knew that you would be there

for him in all his moments, from the first time he pushed his damp black nose into your palm to

the very last time he lifted his gray muzzle from his paws and you saw farewell in his sad brown

eyes.

This is what you are to me. You are mine. I have foreseen it.

My peers are everywhere around me, just as yours surround you. Waking, sleeping,

working, playing. Yet in the entire universe there is only we.

And today… Since you’ve chosen today --this very moment-- to step through a rotting board

and slip into an abandoned mine, this is the day we begin…

~*~

When Kip hit the damp ground beneath what appeared to be a hole of rotting wood planks

and thin earth, he got the breath knocked out of him so hard that he guessed he’d blacked out.

The next thing he knew he was leaning against something warm and soft, and emitting what

sounded like frightened huffs of breath.

Kip wanted to find out what he was up against, but he could barely see. A clumpy ceiling of

mud held together by roots that dangled from it like strings in the dim light that filtered through

the place where he had fallen. It didn’t make sense. He sat upright and looked behind him. There,

a boy about his age sat at his back, supporting him while he’d been lying there unconscious.

They stared at each other while their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

The boy gazed down at Kip without much expression at all. “You fell,” he said evenly. A

frown creased his forehead and his eyes narrowed. “Does anything hurt?”

“I…” Kip pushed slowly to his feet. He took a brief inventory of sensation. The air smelled

funny and the mud baffled any sound from above ground, but nothing seemed to hurt. “I don’t

know.” He tested his legs and looked around in the gloom. On the ground his backpack and

insulated vinyl cooler lay where he’d obviously landed. “I must have fallen on those.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” the boy said dryly, giving him a look he

couldn’t read as he climbed stiffly to his feet. He moved carefully, testing his legs and stretching

out his arms. At one point he uttered a sharp exclamation in some language that Kip had never

heard before.

“I’m Chemuel.”

Kip faced him and held out his hand. “My name’s Kipling Rush. You can call me Kip.”

“Hello Kip.” Chemuel took the hand he’d been offered with a warm, firm grip.

Kip pumped his new friend’s hand a few times then dropped it. “What do they call you?”

The boy frowned again. “They call me Chemuel.”

Kip shook his head. “You must spend a lot of time with your head shoved in a toilet. Can I

call you something else? How about… Crash. Can I call you Crash since we both sort of crashed

here?”

“You may call me whatever you choose.” Crash gave him a smile so warm Kip felt like he’d

put on a sweatshirt. “I’d like to be called Crash.”

“I haven’t seen you around school before.” Kip studied Crash, who wore a pair of new, dark

blue jeans and a polo shirt. He looked like a lot of the kids from school, but his polo shirt wasn’t

the uniform burgundy with the crest on the pocket required of all Oak Crest Academy students.

Kip knelt down to take stock of the things in his backpack and lunch bag. “What grade are you

in? I’m in Mrs. Clepper’s fifth grade class at Oak Crest. She’s young and pretty so everyone

likes her.”

“I don’t go to your school,” Crash told him, kneeling awkwardly beside him. “What are you

looking for, tools?”

“Tools?” Kip blinked up at Crash and his hands stilled.

“Yes. In your rucksack. Do you carry rope? Matches?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kip grinned. “ No. But I have Oreos.”

“Oreos?” Crash frowned at him again.

Kip wondered if Crash was simply a frowny kind of guy; some kids were like that. All

gloom and doom and what’s-the-point. “Yeah. Here.” He gave Crash a handful of cookies. He

found a juice box and some water, so he decided he would ask. “Do you want juice or water?”

Crash looked at the cookies in his hand. “Water, please.”

“Here.” Crash gave him the bottle. “That one hasn’t been opened – no germs.” He tried to

stab the straw into his juice box but it crumpled the first few times. When he looked back up,

Crash still stared at his Oreos as if he’d never seen one before, and Kip thought maybe Crash hit

his head when he fell.

“It’s okay to eat those, I have plenty.”

“That’s not…” Crash looked at him. “What are they?”

Kip gazed at him sadly. “Dude. You are totally homeschooled aren’t you?”

“I’m what?”

“This is an Oreo cookie . A chocolate sandwich cookie with something called stuff inside.

You can get them in different flavors but my dad always says you can’t beat the classics.”

“Oh, I see. It’s a food.”

“It’s the food, Crash. I’ll bet wars have been fought over these. Or Fig Newtons.”

Crash brightened. “I know what figs are. And Newton. Nature and nature's laws lay hid in

night; God said, ‘Let Newton be’ and all was light. ” Crash chuckled. “That Pope.”

Kip didn’t get it. “Which Pope?”

“Samuel Pope.” Crash explained. “He said that. About Newton.”

“Ah.”

Crash seemed fascinated by his cookies so Kip took pity on him. “Like this, see? You break

them apart by twisting, then lick.”

“Sweet,” Crash observed when he did the same.

“My mom says they’re nothing but sugar and pig fat.”

Crash’s eyes widened as he nearly gagged. “Pig fat?”

“Not really, though. You’re probably a vegan huh, or eat macrobiotic food? Kenji Sarukowa

in my class eats macrobiotic.”

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