Chapter Six

Heavy footsteps stomping deep in the snow were the only sounds that could be heard as the two men walked through the woods that Paul never realized were there. They had walked for ten minutes until a clearing came into view.

Paul stopped to look at the clearing, wondering where they were as Charles began to climb a small hill. Blaisdell watched as the angel reached the top and then appeared to be looking down below. Curiosity got the better of the former police captain.  He quickly climbed the small hill to see what Charles was viewing. Paul was surprised to see a small cemetery, surrounded by an iron fence.

The two scrambled down the hill and stood at the entrance of the cemetery with neither man wanting to enter. Two Guardian Angels statues stood by the entrance as if they were guarding the final resting place of those that were buried inside.

A cold breeze suddenly blew making Paul tighten his coat around him before buttoning it. "Charles..."

"Shhhhhhhh..." The Angel held up his hand to silence the man. He turned back to Blaisdell and raised a finger to his lips. "We need to get out of sight. Someone is coming."

Before Paul could respond, Charles grabbed his arm and pulled him behind some trees just as a dark silhouette came into view. He strained his eyes trying to identify the figure. Recognizing the silhouette’s movement, Paul realized the visitor was Kermit.

Blaisdell moved to greet his friend but the angel placed a firm grip on his arm to hold him in place. "Kermit doesn’t know you. If you interfered now, here especially, he would not hesitate to kill you.  Say nothing, just watch."

Thankful for the moonlight, Charles and Paul silently observed Griffin entering the small cemetery through the iron gates. The man made no sound as he slowly walked to a stone marker. Kermit bent down, and placed a bouquet of flowers on the grave. He brought his hand to his eyes, removed the familiar sunglasses and wiped his eyes. After speaking a few unheard words, the glasses were returned and as quickly as he appeared, Kermit was gone.

Paul waited a moment then entered the cemetery and walked to the marker Kermit had visited.  The name engraved on the marker was too dark to read. He heard a noise, turned and found the angel moving towards another section of the cemetery. He quickly followed.

Charles turned, deliberately blocking Paul from approaching. The angel stood steadfast, reminding Blaisdell of a soldier’s military posture ‘at attention’. "What are you trying to hide from me, Charles?"

"I thought you were interested in the reason behind Kermit’s visits."

"Yeah?" Paul tried to look over Charles' shoulder but the angel continued to block his view.

“Kermit came to visit his brother, David. This is a special cemetery, Paul. Only children are buried here.”

Paul Blaisdell turned, and started reading the markers where the moonlight touched.  Each marker bore the name of a child. None had lived past the age of seventeen.

“Why did you bring me here?” Paul asked. “I never knew Kermit’s brother, David. What child….” He suddenly remembered Charles warning of ‘preparing himself’, but for what reason? Then it dawned on him.  He lifted his head and whispered. "Peter."

Once the name was spoken, Charles stepped away to reveal a tombstone.  Two words chiseled in stone released a scream from Blaisdell's throat.

In a cold hard slab of stone was carved the name of his son.                                                                       

Paul stumbled, crawling to the grave on all fours. "No. It can't be. It's impossible." He started clawing at the snow, digging around the grave marker.

Charles watched the grief stricken man. "Peter Caine was murdered by his foster father three months before his fifteenth birthday. The foster father was a violent man who vented his anger out on a boy who was so withdrawn that he would not fight back." He reached down and touched Blaisdell’s shoulder, who twisted out of the angel’s reach.  "Paul, it’s time to go."

"No!" Blaisdell cried out, sobbing uncontrollably while he cleared the snow from the base of the marker.  “This is wrong,” he declared, reading the death date. “Peter wasn’t killed on this day because he was with us! I remember the day, the hour, the date when we took him in. There’s no way my son is buried here.”

“Paul, you were not….”

“Stop it, Charles. I’m sick of this sick twisted game.” Blaisdell shouted. He pointed at the marker. “Peter was spending his weekends with us long before this date. I know because I picked him up at the orphanage myself. Annie and I…."

"Paul, you never lived. Peter never had the chance to grow up in the loving home that you and Annie provided him. You never met and married Annie,” Charles said, watching Paul shake his head in denial.  “Yes, it’s true, Paul. Everything I have told you about your family and friends is true.  Peter lived through the temple's destruction and was sent to the orphanage, but because you were never born, you never gave that lecture for Peter to hear.  His life was altered without you in it.”

Paul stared at the tombstone, but remained silent. His thoughts drifting back and forth to each life Charles had shown him and how they now lived, or in his son’s case – had died.

“Life is a precious gift. Not given on a whim. When one believes their life means nothing, they do not realize the consequences of their beliefs.” Charles heaved a long frustrated sigh.  “Your wife, children, friends, and co-workers’ lives were altered because you never lived. Had you only considered their needs first, instead of your own, you would have realized how much you meant to them.”

“I know that now, Charles. I was wrong. So wrong.” Paul glanced once again at the tombstone, and shivered, his son had been murdered, never to know the love of a family.

Murdered! His thoughts quickly turned to Kermit, and the horrible existence his best friend now lived.  Griffin, the one person he had always depended upon was now a hired killer.  Killing anyone if the price was right.  Would Annie be safe? No, not while she remained married to West.  Even his beautiful daughters…no, they never lived because he never lived.  Then there was Frank, loyal friend and confidant – destroyed because he remained faithful to his beliefs in the system.

“I want to live. I want my family. Send me back. I want to live." He turned, and discovered he was alone in the cemetery.  "Charles." He got to his feet and began searching for the missing angel. "Charles, don't leave me like this. I want to live."

What seemed like hours, but only minutes, Paul tried in vain to find his lost companion. Falling down from exhaustion, Paul found himself at the feet of one of the Guardian Angel statues. "Please, I want to live." He pleaded to the statue as he buried his head into his chest and closed his eyes. "I want to live."

Paul knew the temperature was dropping but he didn't care. He would rather freeze to death than to live knowing what had happened to his family and friends without him in their lives.

He didn't notice the moon had gone behind the clouds and snow had began to fall.

TBC