Angel
by Arty

Chapter 4

1999
====

We cheered as the local professional football team ran onto
the pitch. Our school team were the county champions and an
exhibition match was being staged. Proceeds from ticket
sales went into the school fund and to the charities that we
supported. The crowd was so large that extra seating had
been erected. I had some friends on the football team and
they were thrilled to be playing in the match. Our local
team might only be in the second division, but they were
playing well and looked like they would be up for automatic
promotion if they kept it up. 

We were having a fantastic time. The pro's had let our team
score first and then for a while they gave an exhibition of
one touch football that had us cheering like mad, even
though they kept our school team running fruitlessly up and
down the field. Finally they set up their striker for a shot
from well over twenty-five yards, which he sent screaming
into the corner of the net. It was a beautiful goal and our
'keeper never had a chance. Everyone jumped up and shouted
"GOAL!" and this must have been the straw that broke the
camel's back. 

Above the sound of the cheering crowd I could hear the
shriek of tortured metal giving way. I looked to my left and
the section of seats there was starting to tip forwards. The
cheers of the crowd there turned to screams as the stand
gave way. I saw a girl falling from the top of the stand and
before I could form the conscious intention I had grabbed
her flailing arm and prevented her falling further. She
shrieked as the sudden stop yanked her shoulder. It was
Angela! She looked up at me beseechingly. And then her
expression changed to one of shock. I became aware of a
terrible pain in my arm and I rushed to grab her with my
other hand. As I was pulling her up onto my section, I
looked down to see my arm bent at an unnatural angle. I was
aware of someone helping me with Angela. 

Angela was crying, holding her shoulder, but I got the
impression that it wasn't her injured shoulder she was
crying about. 

"Mark, your arm! What have you done to your arm?" 

I ignored her and looked to see if there was anyone else I
could be helping. I did what I could, pulling people up and
directing them as best I could. I was doing it with only one
hand, as my right-arm seemed to be useless. People were
crying for help, but there didn't seem to be anyway to get
to them. Meanwhile there was a seemingly never-ending stream
of people who needed immediate help climbing up from the
melee. I reasoned that the more relatively unscathed people
we could get out, the better it would be for the injured. It
was all I could do anyway. 

Susan and I encouraged an impromptu rescue-line to form, and
even Angela put aside her crying for the moment and got
stuck in. From time to time she would stare at me looking
confused. Occasionally, she would suggest it was time to get
my arm seen to. Each time I would shrug the suggestion
aside. There were still people I could help, and as long as
I was still standing, I was better off than he poor buggers
at the bottom of the heap. 

The arrival of burly men in heavy fluorescent jackets and
helmets was unexpected as it was welcome. In no time at all,
the impromptu rescue arrangements were supplemented and
eventually replaced with ropes and ladders as the firemen
efficiently did their job. A fireman in a white helmet made
his way towards us. 

"You've done a good job lad…" He broke off abruptly as he
saw my arm. "Good grief son, that arm needs attention now." 

He turned to Susan, "Get him to triage now. I don't know
what he's done to that arm but it doesn't look good." She
nodded and helped me down to the ground and we joined the
crowds streaming away from the disaster area. Angela
followed holding her shoulder once more and looking forlorn.

The pain had become so intense that I couldn't speak. The
crowd surged around us and we were separated from Angela.
Susan stayed with me and managed to shield me from the worst
of the buffeting. Flashing blue lights attracted us and we
stumbled towards them. 

"We can only treat the seriously injured people miss, I'm
sorry" A man wearing a fluorescent jacket with the word
'NURSE' on the back was talking to Susan. Susan looked at
him irritably. 

"Not for me. Him. He's hurt his arm, I think it's broken or
something." 

"Sorry, let's have a look." He turned to me and gently
examined me, being careful not to cause any more pain than
he had to. Even so it was all I could do not to faint. He
spoke to both of us. "He's probably dislocated his elbow,
that's why the arm is bent the way it is. There's swelling
on the forearm. He may have fractured that, but we can't
tell without an X-ray. I can't give you anything for the
pain until a doctor has seen you. Sorry." 

"Can I stay with him?" 

"Do you know him?" 

"Yes, we live next door to one another." 

"Good you can start filling in this form. Just the name and
address, that sort of thing." While they were talking he led
us to a stretcher and got me lying on it. "I can't say when
you'll be seen, but we'll get round to you." And then he
left after first draping an orange card on a piece of string
around my neck. 

"Can you check to see if Angela's all right?" 

"Yes, when you've been seen to. You know that you did it
again don't you?" 

I grunted too much in pain to say anything more. I could
feel myself slipping away… 

When I woke again the pain in my arm had been reduced, from
the terrible burning and stabbing sensation that I'd fought
to suppress, to a bearable if nagging ache. I could feel the
stretcher swaying and I looked about me. I recognised the
confines of a ambulance. Through the tinted glass I could
see the reflected lash of blue light from passing shop
windows. Occasionally the muted ones of the siren could be
heard. 

"What happened to my arm?" Susan started; my unexpected
question brought her sightless gaze into focus on me. 

"Mark, you're awake!" 

"It would seem so, unless this is a particularly graphic
nightmare?" 

"No, if only it were." 

"So, what happened to my arm, it seems much better now?" 

"Oh this doctor turned up. She said that, since you were
unconscious, she would 'reduce' the dislocation now and save
you the joy of a general anæsthetic." Susan stopped speaking
and grinned at me, "You'd have liked her, she was very
pretty." 

I weighed up the pros and cons of flirting with a pretty
doctor, versus the agony of a dislocated elbow and decided
that I had the better end of the deal. Besides there was
always a chance that she would check up on me, to see how I
was doing. I smiled to myself. The relief from the pain was
making me a bit loopy; I must have been high on my own
endorphins. 

"What are you smiling about now?" 

"A couple of things. First it's a hell of a lot of trouble
just to meet a pretty woman and then I'm unconscious anyway
and second it looks like Angela's mother won't be bothering
me this time." 

"So that's number ten." 

"Please don't say anything, I'd rather just keep my head
down." Susan nodded at my request, but I could see she was
unhappy. "Look I'm happy that you know as long as you know
the truth I can put up with all the rest." I slumped back
onto the stretcher; the evening was taking its toll. What
was I going to do now that she was at college? Oh well
perhaps this was the last time, ten was a nice even number
after all, wasn't it? 

.oOo.

This was definitely no fun whatsoever. 

The blackness surrounded me almost like a welcome friend.
The pain in my arm faded quickly. I remembered that, after
they'd X-rayed me to make certain that my arm wasn't broken,
they'd let me go home. 

When I got home, I discovered that Susan had 'phoned my mum
to tell her what had happened, and so my time convalescing
was spent in the lap of luxury. Susan had kept her promise
and, though the papers were full of the exploits of a
mystery youth who had apparently single-handedly - I winced
at the pun - saved hundreds of people, she hadn't told them
the real story. I'd teased her about the absurdity of the
stories and hoped that, when she was a journalist, she
wouldn't fall prey to the easy exaggeration. 

As I mulled these thoughts and others, I realised that, for
the first time, I wasn't restricted to my memories of the
events in the bubbles, this time I'd remembered stuff that
had happened after the scene. This was a new development and
I strained to remember other things. I did remember that
once I had almost recovered completely that Susan had
'rewarded' me with a glorious make out session while she
'babysat' for my mother as she went on a 'girl's night out'.

All at once the memories of that night were sharp and clear,
the electric touch of her tongue on mine. The silken feel of
her breasts under my fingers and the shock of her engorged
nipple. The hiss of her breath, as I rolled her nipple in my
fingers, and then the breathless explorations between her
legs, the impossible softness of her vulva and the
improbable heat and wetness between her lips. Finally, the
alien feel of a hand, other than my own, caressing my
hardness, making me feel sensations that I'd been unable to
experience in years of solitary experience. I'd realised
then that the tales were a mere reflection of reality. When
someone else took you, the feelings were multiplied a
thousand-fold. After we had finished, she'd looked at me
lovingly and told me that we could never do that again. I'd
given her my best puppy dog look and she'd laughed and the
melancholy mood had broken. 

Why couldn't I relive scenes like that, I whined to myself.
Fuck being vomited over, beaten up, bruised shoulders and
dislocated elbows, where was the hot 'n' heavy sex? After
I'd had my little rant, I noticed that the blackness was
definitely less all encompassing. I wondered about this, did
it signal the end of something or was it just local
variation. Then I could see the next bubble looming up
ahead; as I accelerated towards it, I could definitely hear
the sound of a voice, a female voice. I listened as hard as
I could but I couldn't make out the words. And any further
thought on the mystery of the voice was lost as I slipped
through the surface of the next bubble. 

2000
====

It was a quiet night, the moon was full and the air was
balmy. Even though it was still early I'd felt the urge to
say goodbye to my friends and walk home rather than take a
bus. As I turned the corner I could see a figure slipping
from Angela's bedroom and onto the garage roof below. I held
my breath. Then the figure slipped from the shadows and the
bright moonlight leant an eerie glow the figure of Angela as
she turned to grasp the edge of the garage roof and hang at
full stretch before dropping the last foot or so to the
ground. 

I stayed in the shadows between two trees and watched as she
dusted herself down and took off the overalls that she had
been wearing. Underneath was a dress so short it barely
qualified as a tee shirt! Out of the pocket of the overalls
came a pair of high heels to match the dress that she was
wearing and then, with a last primp of her hair, she was
off, walking quickly towards town. 

Even though I knew she was not yet fifteen, she looked much
older, and sexy as hell. I reflected that, had her mother
not been almost psychotic about me, I'd have enjoyed very
much living next door to Angela. I quelled the thoughts and
slipped further back into the shadows as she passed in front
of me. I needn't have bothered she was oblivious as she
spoke quietly on her mobile 'phone. 

"It's me, Jack. Angela, who did you think it was? At the
usual place, yeah." She paused, breathless. "I did like you
asked, I'm only wearing my dress and heels." 

I could feel myself harden as her words penetrated to me.
With a sinking feeling I knew that no good was going to come
of this night. I resigned myself to fate and prepared to
follow her. Jack was the name of her latest conquest.
Unfortunately, unlike her previous boyfriends, he was older
and less easily manipulated. In fact it was clear from her
state of undress for this late night rendezvous that it was
she who being influenced. 

In her state of barely suppressed excitement it was a simple
thing to follow her. At first I dodged from shadow to
shadow, but then I realised that this sort of behaviour just
made me look suspicious to any third parties, so I stopped
and contented myself with walking slowly about thirty or
forty yards behind her. At this point it was obvious where
she was going anyway. 

The Park. 

Infamous for its dark woods and secluded corners, by day the
park was the delight of children and dogs; by night it was a
make-out spot par excellence. Dressed as she was, Angela was
in danger. Though the main gates to the park were locked at
sunset, the side gates never were. I watched with something
approaching nausea as she fulfilled my expectation and
walked through the gate and into the park. I waited for a
short while and followed her through the gate. 

The bright moonlight meant that she was easily visible as
she strode confidently along the main path. The park wasn't
empty by any means, but the fact that most people were here
on some assignation or other meant that folks were studious
about ignoring each other. I followed carefully trying to
stroll aimlessly on the grass and appear harmless, while
concentrating with a fierce intensity on Angela's
destination. 

Even so I almost missed it. One minute she was walking on
the path and the next she was no longer there. I backtracked
and saw the place where footprints appeared in the dewy
grass, heading straight to the darkest part of the small
copse at the edge of the park. With my trepidation
increasing with every step, I followed her trail into the
woods. 

As I entered the trees I could hear voices, one voice was
deep barely a rumble the words indiscernible, the second
voice was higher pitched a female voice. I presumed that
this was Jack and Angela and sidled through the trees trying
to get closer. The closer I got the more I could tell that
Angela was unhappy, even a little scared. As I reached a
small stand of bushes I could make out the words of the
conversation. 

"Jack, you're scaring me." 

"And you love it don't you? You cock-teasing bitches are all
the same. If you didn't want it why are you here with your
tits free for all the world to see, and no knickers? You're
gagging for it. You all are." 

"Please, Jack, let me go. I don't want to. Please!" 

"C'mere bitch, or it will be worse for you." 

"No! Please! No!" 

"Stop fighting. You know you love it really." 

"Jack! No…" her protests were cut short with a slap and a
scream. I pushed my way through the bushes to see Angela
huddled on the floor her dress around her neck and a red
mark starting to show on her face. Even though the situation
was dire, I couldn't help but notice that Angela was
seriously gorgeous. In the moonlight that filtered through
the trees she looked ethereal, like a dryad or a wood elf,
only a damn sight sexier than any illustration I'd ever seen
anywhere. Jack turned to look at this latest interruption,
and his expression did nothing to make the situation seem
any better. 

"Leave her alone. She said no." I turned to Angela, "Get up,
you stupid girl, and go home before your mother calls the
police." She started crawling through the bushes. Jack made
to stop her but I stood in his way. He tried to shoulder his
way past me but I stood my ground. Out of the corner of my
eye I could see Angela standing and jogging out of the
woods, pulling her dress down as she went. Good girl! This
just left me facing Jack Lawson, a bad-tempered brute who
could make two of me, and I'd just deprived him of his next
fuck-toy. Things were not looking good for me at all. 

I started to back away from him and to follow Angela, at
first it seemed that he was too surprised to do anything and
I began to hope, tentatively, that I might come out of this
unscathed. Then he gave a wordless scream, and I knew that
my time had come. I turned to run and managed to get some
way out of the trees before I stumbled and fell. For all his
size, he was almost as quick as me, and so he was ready to
act as soon as I fell. Somehow I twisted my face away from
the kick and his foot struck my shoulder numbing it. I
curled my arms over my face and allowed myself to scream as
his booted feet slammed into my arms, chest, and legs. Each
time he kicked my ribs I could feel bones cracking. I stayed
as still as I could and prayed to whatever Gods were
listening that I would get through this. 

I'd lost count of how many times I'd been hit and kicked. He
must have got bored with just kicking, because he started
stamping on me. I felt a bone in my arm crack as he jumped
on it. I screamed again and I dimly heard him laughing
manically as he went about his task of reducing me to a pile
of formless protoplasm. I'd started to wonder if I was going
to get out of this alive when I heard someone crashing
through the trees. I risked a glimpse through my forearms
and watched as a thick tree branch connected with the head
of my attacker. Jack shook his head to clear it, but was too
dazed to be able to stop the next blow and the next. I
started to relax and watch in amazement as a second lump of
wood joined the fray. I giggled with relief and then I
groaned as the pain from a fractured rib made itself known.
Suddenly Jack decided that he was losing too badly and
decided to run for it. 

I could see a pair of knees, shapely knees at that, kneeling
in front of me and then I heard the familiar tones of Susan.

"Oh Mark, what has he done to you?" 

The concern in her voice did what Jack had been unable to
do; I started to cry. The pain from my ribs and arm was now
starting to overwhelm me. I moaned wordlessly and tried to
shift to a more comfortable position. That was a waste of
time; it just made everything worse. 

"Don't move Mark, please don't move. Help is coming." 

I felt my eyelids drooping I felt so tired. 

"Stay awake, Mark. You have to stay awake, until someone
gets here." 

I nodded to show that I'd try, but I felt so tired. 

"You did it again Mark, Angela ran into us and told us what
you did. She was so frightened, that you'd get hurt. Eyes
open Mark. Listen to the siren, that's an ambulance. Stay
with me please, Mark." 

Her monologue was interrupted by the sounds of people
crashing through the undergrowth. An unknown male voice
shouted: "This way, he's over here." 

The matter of fact voice of a paramedic was next. "Excuse me
love, let's have a look at him." I tried to answer the
questions that he directed at me, but I couldn't stay awake
and that was the last thing I remember until I woke in a
hospital bed with tubes running into and out of every
orifice and a few more besides. 

"You're awake, I see, Mr Connors. Glad to have you back. You
gave us a bit of a fright, I can tell you." The doctor, I
presumed he was such, did what doctors do in this situation
and pronounced himself satisfied, for the present. Then he
turned and left, throwing cryptic instructions to the ward
sister over his shoulder. I looked at al the tubes and
turned to my mother sitting by the bed. 

"Do you think there are enough tubes and wires? I mean I
have two nostrils and a mouth and they don't seem to have
anything in them." Mum smiled wanly at my feeble attempt at
humour. I decide to speak of practical things, "How long was
I unconscious?" 

"A day and a half." 

"What happened?" 

"They said there was some internal bleeding, but they
managed to control it without surgery." 

"I'm sorry mum, but I had no choice, but to do what I did." 

"I know, Mark. Susan told me what you did. You did a very
brave thing, I'm proud of you. I just wish you could have
done it without getting beaten half to death." 

"Yeah, I wish that too, sorry I scared you." 

"Susan said you would want it kept quiet, so we haven't said
anything to the police, but they do want to talk to you." 

"Thanks, I couldn't cope with Angela's mother right now." 

"Surely she'd be grateful." 

"Knowing my luck, I'd be the one blamed for attacking her
and the guy that did this to me would come out as the knight
in shining armour. I'd rather not go through all the
questioning. Besides I'd rather not drag Angela through it
all as well. She's been traumatised enough without having
her name in all the papers." 

"If you're sure that this is what you want, we won't say
anything." 

"Thanks mum, it wouldn't be worth it." She nodded her
acceptance, but it was clear she wasn't happy about all the
secrecy. "Why don't you go and get some rest, you're looking
very tired." 

"No, it's all right…" 

Susan interrupted her, "I'll stay with him for a while. You
need the rest. What good will it do if you make yourself
ill?" 

"Please mum, I don't want to have to worry about you too." 

"Oh all right, if you insist," she brightened at the thought
of a few hours sleep in a comfortable bed, "I know it's just
because you want to be alone with all the pretty nurses." 

Susan giggled and I blushed, "Oh mother!" 

Susan replaced my mother at my bedside and we talked quietly
until I felt fatigue creeping up on me once more. When she
saw my eyes close for the umpteenth time in a few seconds
she told me to go to sleep and that she would see me
tomorrow. 

I woke a few hours later to see the fatherly policeman from
a couple of years ago standing at he foot of my bed. He
smiled at me in an avuncular fashion. And made his ponderous
way to sit in he chair by my bedside. The silence stretched
and even though I knew it was a ploy I didn't feel up to
waiting, so I spoke first. 

"What?" 

"This is starting to become a habit." 

"A habit?" 

"Us meeting like this. People will talk." 

I grunted in reply, I really didn't feel up to this sort of
conversation. 

"It's a funny thing. I ask my community liaison officer
about Mark Connors, and I get a picture of a yob, a tearaway
or a thug. Then I look at the official record, and all I
find are unsubstantiated complaints. I ask at your school,
and they have no complaints about your work," he paused and
looked at his notebook, "or your behaviour. In fact I can
find no basis for your reputation at all. Actually, last
year, as far as I can tell, you helped to rescue a lot of
people, despite suffering from a dislocated elbow. A
condition - I am told - that is excruciatingly painful." 

I struggled to maintain my composure; I'd forgotten what it
was like to have someone other than Susan or my mother look
at me without disdain. I blinked furiously to hold back the
tears. 

"You'll be pleased to know that Mr Lawson got involved in a
pub brawl yesterday and was knifed for his trouble. And once
he's recovered from that, there are several other matters
that we want to talk to him about. He won't be free to
molest you or your friends for a long time." He smiled
warmly, "I just thought you might like to know, that's all."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." He flipped open his notebook
and began to write. "What are you writing?" 

"Your statement." 

"What statement?" 

He finished writing and began to read in an exaggerated and
lugubrious fashion. "When questioned, Mark Connors stated
that, 'it was too dark to see his assailant'." 

I smiled in relief, "Thank you. I hope you don't take this
the wrong way, but I really hope we don't meet again." 

"That's all right son, so do I, so do I." He patted me on my
shoulder, go up from the chair and started walking away. As
he left he was whistling the theme from 'The Blue Lamp'. I
laughed to myself. In any other situation, I was pretty
certain that I would have liked him. I lay back in my
pillows and squirmed with pain. How many weeks would it take
before I could lie in comfort, I wondered… 

.oOo.

Things were definitely going downhill. If Angela's mother
wasn't harassing me, I was getting injured or beaten up. The
escalation was obvious. The next bubble was looming ahead of
me. I could see that it was the last one in the skein, this
did not look hopeful. I tried to concentrate on slowing
down. It was pointless, the speed of my approach seemed
unaltered, but it would seem I still had time yet. I was
dreading the outcome of this last bubble. 

From somewhere distant I could hear again the sound of a
girl's voice. The quality of the speech was different from
the way I remembered it. This time it had a soothing
quality; previously it had been intimate, yet
conversational. I felt myself grow calmer. While I knew I
was not going to enjoy re-living what was obviously the
scene of my death, I could see that I had no choice in the
matter. While I had time before the final bubble, I allowed
my mind to roam over the high points of my life so far. 

On previous experience it was a good guess that there
wouldn't be much enjoyment. Was there sex in heaven? I'd
always wondered about that. What sort of heaven could it be,
if the single most pleasurable activity known to humankind
was excluded? Of course this presupposed that my final
destination was up and not down. I could always end up in
the one of the outer circles of Hell; if I remembered my
Dante correctly, these were reserved for 'virtuous' sinners.
The bubble was almost upon me and I marvelled at the
shifting colours that shimmered across the surface of the
bubble. 

For some reason I slipped through the surface much more
slowly and as I did so the sound of someone speaking was
very clear. The words were still unclear, but I could hear
the tears in her voice. The was something familiar about the
tones, I tried to think who it reminded me of, but all of a
sudden it was to late… 

-Continued-

-- 
http://www.asstr.org/~arty