Forgotten Souls (The Saving Angels 2)

"Gross," I said, looking at my own grubby wipe.

"See, you guys are loving my OCD now aren't you," Lynn said mockingly.

"We are, we are," Sam said, dramatically throwing her arms around Lynn. "Oh, thank you for saving the day sweet child," she added, in a long drawn out country drawl.

Lynn and I burst out laughing at her antics.

"What did we miss?" Shawn asked, juggling a tray of food as he maneuvered under the branches to sit next to Sam.

"We were just appreciating how fabulously smart Lynn is," Sam said cheekily, making Lynn and me laugh again.

"What's so funny?" Mark and Robert asked in unison joining us in our sanctuary.

"Obviously an inside joke," Shawn grumbled.

His disgruntled words set us off again. Finally, after a few moments of laughter, we were able to fill in the guys between giggles. By the looks they shot us, it was obvious something had gotten lost in the retelling.

"I guess you had to be there," Sam said, unwrapping her burger. "Any ketchup?" she asked, removing the top of her bun.

"Pretty sure it's against the law to eat a burger, or fries for that matter without, ketchup," Mark said, pulling a handful of ketchup packets out of the pockets of his cargo shorts. He handed several to me for my fries and I smiled at him appreciatively.

"Thanks," I said, touched that he knew me so well.

Lunch was delicious, and much to Sam's dismay, both Lynn and I dug into our gyros with gusto, enjoying the tender meat and tangy white sauce that drenched the top.

The afternoon moved quicker than the morning, and before I knew it we were storing our belongings into the Navigator and heading toward the revival. Dusk was upon us when Mark pulled into the crowded parking lot that had been vacant the night before.

Mark, Sam, Shawn, and I piled out of the vehicle, leaving Lynn and Robert behind. They would wait to exit the SUV until we were inside the brightly lit tent. We had decided the night before when we made our exhaustive plans that they should skirt the property acting as lookouts. We thought it would look less suspicion if only four of us entered the tent together; after all, it was perfectly acceptable that Mark and I would drag a couple of friends along. Four extra friends, though, seemed to be pushing it.

Mark reached for my hand as we slowly strolled toward the tent with Shawn and Sam next to us. We appeared to be nonchalant, but in truth, adrenaline raced through us all. I worked to keep myself as calm as possible, trying to focus on the emotions that filled the dirty massive canvas tent in front of me. My apprehension from the night before came crashing back again as I felt the oppressive weight of the emotions around me.

Shawn reached out and pulled the flap of the tent aside so we could step into the brightly lit area. I wrinkled my nose when the smell of moldy canvas assaulted my senses. I had gone camping once with my parents when I was growing up and had gotten ferociously sick while we were surrounded by nothing but wilderness. The smell of the tent we slept in had only compounded my nausea, and to this day the smell of canvas still made bile burn its way up my throat.

The space we stepped into was crowded, with mostly guys standing around talking. I spotted several girls as we made our way toward the back row of the rough manmade benches, but none of them were the girl from the night before.

"Do you see her?" Shawn asked, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

I shook my head "no" and continued to scan the crowd. The emotions of those in the tent swirled, around us in a sort of haze that I felt I could touch if I tried. I had been around despair and animosity before, but not all at once. I found myself working hard to keep my own emotions at bay as the other emotions in the room threatened to overwhelm me. Mark kept my hand firmly in his giving me the support I needed.

After several minutes, the lights in the tent dimmed and everyone began to take their seats. A guy around our age sat next to me, and once again I had to fight back nausea. He took grunge to a whole new level, wearing jeans that I was pretty sure could stand up on their own, a shirt that was as holey as it was dirty, scuffed up combat boots that had duct tape wrapped around the toes and long, dark, oily hair that rested against his pale sunken-in cheekbones. Once I could get past the stench that surrounded him, I focused on the emotions that he was experiencing. By his appearance and glowering expression, I had expected to feel deep animosity flowing around him, but was shocked that despair seemed to fill every available space inside him. I fought the temptation to let his emotions inside me, curious about what had made such a tough looking guy feel so lost. I felt bad that I had instantly stereotyped him.

"Don’t let him in," Mark sent the thought my way after pulling my conflicting thoughts from me. "We have to get a lay of the land first before we show our cards," he added, dropping my hand so that he could pull me snugly into his arms, allowing me to feel his steady heartbeat against my shoulder.

"I know. I just feel bad. I'm not sure I have ever felt so much despair from one individual."

"Don't worry were going to fix it, we just need a plan."

I nodded my head slightly, showing that I agreed with him. Taking my focus away from the forgotten soul next to me, I glanced around the tent trying to gage the emotions of the other occupants. My surveying was interrupted when an individual entered the tent from the narrow opening in front of us.

There was no need to stereotype the individual in front of me. I could feel the evil radiating off him from where we sat. I glanced at Sam wondering if she was feeling the same thing. By the way she raised her eyebrows at me, I could tell we were on the same page.

Outwardly, his appearance was about as ordinary as you could get. He wore faded jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and non-descript running shoes. He topped of his wardrobe with a worn-out Yankees cap pulled snugly over his head. It was glaringly obvious that he deliberately dressed the way he did to draw people in. He was as unthreatening as they came, especially with the genial smile that he plastered across his face. My gifts made it easy for me to see through his ploy right away and see the monster that lurked below the innocent exterior.

We watched him approach the pulpit and wave to some of the people in the audience like they were old friends.

"Good evening everyone. I'm Alan, as many of you already know," he said in a welcoming and engaging voice, judging by the rapt attention he received. His voice had the opposite effect on me, making my skin crawled just hearing it.