Avenging Angels

Trying to put something directly into the hands of a hacker was a kin to grabbing a greased pig, in a rainstorm, blindfolded; near impossible and no fun at all.

Two days ago the Vatican envoy had shown up unannounced at St. Michael's. "It is imperative that this be delivered to Mr. Simon Lewis Farron as soon as possible," the imposing envoy said to Father Deke Crane.

Father Crane was an enigma, being ordained after completing his studies at the University of St Thomas in Houston he had assumed the church would find him a place to minister in Texas and he would live out his life there. Such was not the case.

Deke was one of 8 children, raised on a cattle ranch outside of Fort Worth his childhood was spent wrangling cattle, staying out of the way of his older siblings and harassing his younger ones as was only right.

Inside Deke always felt...separate from those he shared this life with. Many a night he would fall asleep ontop of the little hill behind the ranch house after spending hours simply contemplating the wonder and vastness of the universe that played out above him in the clear Texas sky.

While his brothers and sisters persued the normal hormonally driven activities of teenagers everywhere, Deke became more and more introverted, with questions swirling in his head about the meaning of life, the depth of faith and the bridge between the two.

He would later recall his apifany with a hearty laugh. One day while trying to round up a stray calf his horse was spooked by a rattle snake. Deke lost control and fell, being knocked unconscious and bitten by the snake in the process.

Everyone has there own versions of death, the tunnel, the white light, a host of angels and pearly gates, or the hounds of hell paying particular interest in your entrails. Deke had none of these, his own near death....hell....total death....experience was one of simple...peace. And within this space of peace and comfort Deke realized that he was not alone.

"Hello, is someone there?" Deke was surprised by the soft tenor of his voice given the fact that he had meant to yell out the call.

"I am here, the question is where exactly is here," the response from a definitely female voice startled him, he could not guage the direction it had come from as the landscape was basically covered in a soft warm gray fog.

"Am I dead" Deke asked, remembering the snake and the fall from the horse the only rational thought was that he was now deceased.

"Energy can not be destroyed, only changed, since death goes hand and hand with destruction by your defination the answer is most certainly....no," the disembodied voice was lyrical in its pitch and tenor, the effect on Deke was one of simple...acceptance.

"Where do we go next?" Deke felt more than heard her laugh after asking this question.

"That my friend, as all things are, is your choice. Stay, go forward, go back, whichever feels the most right to you is where you will find yourself," the voice said and seemed to fade, just as his acknowledgment of his surroundings did the same.

The bright light was what finally caused Deke to open his eyes. He could see clouds out the window, feel the bed he was laying on, and the throbbing in his head. "Oh man....I came back" he said with groan.

Deke spent many years trying to interpret his brush with the great beyond, in the end he did not have and could not find a, frame of refernce for it. He understood that he wished to do good, to help people through the journey that is life. His path lead him to the church, and that path lead him to a small congregation in New York City which he tended with an open hand, open ears and most importantly an open heart.

"Find him Father, deliver this too him as quickly as you can." the envoy had said just before he left for the airport. Deke sighed and pulled on his raincoat, a sarcastic "thy will be done" escaping his lips as he headed out to complete his task.

It was another rainy night and Deke was on the last page of the "known hangouts" for Mr. Farron.

The unimposing three story brownstown in a quiet neighborhood of lower manhattan was about as far away from where Father Crane had supposed he would find Mr. Farron.

For the past 48 hours the good father had traveled through some of the roughest and oddest places he had ever been.

From internet café's and backroom computer stores to unassuming bars and hastily thrown together rave parties in abandonded warehouses; the search for Mr. Farron had led him on a merry chase.

The name Farron got him no where, looking through the file provided by the envoy he found an alias, Cryptic. Starting to ask with this name brought far more than the non comital shrugs of those he asked. More often than not it produced a pronounced palling of whomever he was talking with and their hasty retreat from his proximity.

Now standing in front of the final door on his list there was a bit of trepidation in Deke's conciousness, unsure as to just what the Vatican had gotten him into as his cold wet finger pressed the doorbell. ............

The door bell startled him. 'Damnit,' he thought, making his way down the corridor to the front door, he had seen the priest standing outside via one of the numerous video cameras tied into the security system that watched over what had finally become something akin to a home.

'Kind of late to try and save my soul,' he thought wryly as he looked at the small lcd display by the door, appraising the man standing there waiting for his response. With a sigh Cryptic pushed the button.

"What can I do for you?" the short clipped message surprised Deke making him jump a bit. "I am looking for a Mr. Farron, I was given this address," Deke said, trying to place the voice he heard, wondering why its tone surprised him so.

"Never heard of him, please leave." the strain in the response was unmissable.

'Farron, how did....anyone.....know that name,' he thought. Memories best kept buried threatened to resurface and engulf him as he watched the screen, trying to get a read on the priest.

"Mr. Farron," Deke said taking a chance "my name is Deke Crane, two days ago a Vatican envoy showed up on my doorstep with a file and a package, the file had information on you, the package was to be delivered only into your hands." Deke paused taking a breath. "Now, I have been accused of being...tenacious, how about you let me in, I can give you what I must and then we can go from there." Deke finished looking expectantly at the door.

Simon reached for the hand pad and slowly placed his palm on the reader.

Deke heard the electronic locks disengage and the door swung slowly open. He couldn't say what he was expecting, only that Mr. Farron was as far from it as he could have gotten.

The file on Mr. Farron was far from complete, it included known hang outs, alias's, a bit about him being something of an enigma, no birthdate or place was provided.

The young man sitting in the modern wheelchair looked to be no more than 16. "Mr. Farron?" Deke asked not sure that his guess had been correct.

"Please call me Cryptic." Simon said as he wheeled his chair around and headed back down the hall, not waiting for or inviting Deke to follow.

Walking down the center hallway following the young man, Deke was puzzled by this turn of events.

The brownstone was a stark modern affair on the inside. The hallway painted in dark browns lead to a large comfortable room that was actually a two story space decorated in a modern style with rich brown leather chairs and low glass tables. Everything was neat and tidy but there lacked anything...homey, as if the place was designed for show rather than a place where people lived.

"You said you had something for me Father." Simon stated, looking with suspision on the man now standing in his home, still not sure that the good Father was not another do gooder trying to help the poor crippled orphan.

Deke sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs across from where Mr. Farron had stopped his chair. "Yes, a Vatican envoy provided me with some background on how to find you and made it clear that I was to place this," motioning to the package in his lap "only into your hands." Deke said still curious about the young man across from him.

Simon's hand moved to his face, fingers rubbing his eye's, he still wasn't sure about the man.

"Where are your parents son?" Deke asked tentatively, seeing the young mans shoulders slump he thought he had made a mistake.

Wheeling himself over to the small desk beside the fireplace Simon opened the drawer and pulled out a card, moving over to Deke he handed it to him.

"This is my attorney, please call him, he can verify that I am an imancipated minor, I have a small trust fund that provides for my needs, now please leave." Simon moved off towards the kitchen dismissing Deke in the process.

Deke looked at the card in his hand, shaking his head he rose and walked after Simon.

"I don't need to speak with your attorney, I was simply....curious, I apologize." Deke said as he held out the Vatican parcel to the young man.

Simon looked up at the man in front of him, he didn't seem like a bad guy, sighing he took the package from the man's hand.

"I'm, sorry. It can be difficult being on your own and a cripple at 16, I find that most people fall into two categories, those that think they know what's best for me, or those who want to use me, I tend to jump to conclusions about people rather quickly, would you like something to drink and I'll tell you a bit about myself? Simon offered as he laid the parcel in his lap and moved towards the refrigerator.

Back in the living room, Deke with a bottle of water, he listened to the young mans tale. ............

Simon shifted in his wheel chair, looking over at the smiling, seemingly kind hearted Priest he sighed, thinking it was probably time he shared the tale with someone, why not a priest on this rainy night, god knows his attorney had been bugging him to talk with someone for years.

Taking a deep breath Simon began.

"My earliest memories are of pain," Simon closed his eyes as the memories and images that he had so religiously kept buried for so long flashed to center stage in his mind with a power and energy that belied their age and distance from the now.

The smell of anticeptic stung his nose, 'where am I, what happened.' And then the pain hit him like wave, electrifying his senses to the point where they seemed they would fail then pulling back only to crash into him again.

He wept openly the tears streaming down his face as the pain in his chest and arms threatened to steal his new found conciousness.

"Give him some morphine," the voice said through the pain. Opening his eyes he saw a kindly looking man in a white coat talking with a very fat women in a white dress. The woman moved to a bag hanging next to the bed and injected something into it.

Almost immediately the pain withdrew, it did not vanish but dulled enough so that he could concentrate on something other than its insistent howl.

Looking around the room Simon realized he must be in a hospital, but why; he was riding in the car, the back seat, mom and dad upfront, talking, his mother looking back over her shoulder. Her blond hair falling across her face, the easy smile offered so often, her hand on her fathers shoulder.

Then the bright lights coming through the windshield, his mothers head turning as if in slow motion, the smile dissolving into the outline of scream and then....darkness.

The tears began anew, this time they were the wracking sobs that only great loss can produce, and with them came blessed oblivion.

The car accident had killed his parents instantly, it took rescue crews four hours to pry his broken form out of the wreckage. Fourteen hours on the operating table had saved his life, but the spinal cord injury was simply too massive, his legs would never work again.

The young parents had never made a will, there was no family to speak of to take the boy in. Becoming a ward of the state at three years old was bad enough, doing so from a wheel chair was a challenge that most people would not have been able to overcome.

Over the next three years there were a series of operations to repair the damage from the accident to his body, his mind and emotional state went largely unaccounted for. Shifted from foster home to foster home Simon was hard to place, being in the wheelchair was the least of the problems.

A moody withdrawn preschooler was not high on anyones list for placement, either those looking for children or those trying to place them, whose jobs were based on placements...not re-placements.

At six Simon was sent to live with Connie Bringers.

Connie was a high school science teacher, single but with a real affinity for children, especially children with issues.

"He hasn't been in the same place for more than 90 days in the last three years?" she asked incredulously to the Childrens Affairs worker.

"No, Simon has multiple issues that have precluded a suitable placement" Sarah sighed as she took a sip of her tea before continuing. "You are kind of our last hope, if we can't get him placed we will need to move him to the state orphanage."

Connie looked at the 8 x 10 glossy of the small scared looking boy in the wheelchair, understaning instantly what she needed to do.

"When can he move in." ............ Connie was not like the other people he had stayed with. Upon arriving she had greeted him nicely, shaking his hand and showing him around the house.

"This will be your room," she said, showing him the bright and airy room on the first floor at the back of the house. She placed his suitcase on the floor and left, saying over her shoulder to give a shout if he needed anything.

'Strange,' he thought. Always in the past they had hovered around him trying to make sure he could reach everything, making sure he didn't get hurt or into trouble.

And so it went for the first few weeks, Connie left him to his own devices most of the time, if he needed anything he had to ask for it, she didn't baby or coddle him, she simply allowed him to be.

It was an interesting time for Simon, he had never been in an environment where he was required to be mostly self sufficient, it bothered him and at the same time it began to endear him to this new woman in his life.

One day near the end of July Connie came into his room as he was reading, he felt her eyes on him, he purposely finished another two pages of the book before placing it in his lap and looking up at her.

"School starts in a few weeks, we should talk about what your goals are." Connie said in a smooth even tone that placed Simon at ease.

"I don't like school, everyone....makes fun of me," he said. As is true of all schools they can be a place where people who are different are made to feel small and insignificant. Although Simon's only exposure to school had been kindergarten, even there he was faced with bullies and bigots who took great pleasure in making fun of the cripple.

Connie smiled at Simon as she sat down Indian style in front of him. "Education is important, not for all of the reasons most people will tell you Simon, it's not about learning to read and write, multiply and divide or the state capitol of Wyoming. It's about expanding yourself, following your dreams, being able to chart a path through life that allows for ever expanding capacity, to view and intereact with the world around you. Education is the lever we use to live life to it's fullest." The passion in Connie's voice and the emotion behind her words captured Simon in that moment, it was a fleeting moment but it was there.

"I don't understand what you mean Connie, school is just another place for people to look down on me and give me a hard time, I don't think of it as an adventure at all." Simon sighed, knowing what awaited him in the coming school year.

"Perhaps I can help you to find a different perspective." She said standing up and motioning him to follow her.

Wheeling himself out of the room he followed Connie down the hall to the large great room that filled the multiple purposes of office, living room and play room.

Simon noticed that there was a new addition to the room, connie's desk had been moved away from the wall and another desk now sat behind it. On top was a computer monitor.

Walking over to it she motioned for Simon to wheel up to the desk.

"I just got it all hooked up, there was a discount for teachers so I figured why not. It's connected to other computers over the internet," she said pointing to the phone line that went from the wall to the back of the computer.

"You can look things up, find all sorts of information on a number of subjects, it's becoming more widely used every day" she finished as she turned everything on and the computer went through its start up cycle.

Simon sat quietly listening to Connie and watching the screen, once the startup was complete Connie showed him what to do to get to something called a search engine, simon took it from there.

The years that followed were happy times for Simon. With Connie's help and patience he came out of his shell. He excelled at his school work and spent most of his free time infront of an ever growing assortment of computers.

By the time he was fifteen it was not uncommon for Connie to come home from work to find Simon working on three or four computers simultaneously. She was proud of him, he had jumped ahead in school and was graduating 2 years early from high school, several colleges had called to discuss scholarship opportunities, he was on track to a good and fulfilling life, what more could a mother ask.

Sitting by the pool Connie watched as simon completed his 200th lap. Aside from the computer, his other passion had become swimming. Despite his disability he had pursed swimming with a vengence, reveling in the weightless feel he got while in the water, appreciating the upper body changes that were also part of his daily regime that was more of a physical meditation than a work out.

"I have to fly to Seattle for a teaching conference, i'll be leaving tomorrow morning early and be back mid afternoon Sunday." Connie said to Simon as he floated in the deep end looking relaxed and happy. His long dark brown hair was matted to his head, his breaths brought his muscular torso out of the water, he was a far cry from the scrawny shy 6 year old that discovered the pool all those years ago.

"Not a problem mom, i'll make sure the orgy is over no later than noon on Sunday," Simon laughed as he floated in the water. Looking up at the sky he couldn't think of a better day.

"Hello," a groggy Simon answered the phone looking out his window to find blackness staring back at him. "Is this Simon Farron?" the mans voice on the other end of the phone asked. Finally becoming fully awake Simon got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Mr. Farron my name is Samuel Klien, I'm with the FAA, there has been an....incident involving your guardian."

"She is not my guardian she is my mother....what happened...."

Simon paused here, the far away look in his eyes conveyed a sense of pain and loss that no one, especially someone his age should be able to evoke. It took Deke's breath away, it was all he could do to stay still and not walk over to the young man to try and offer some comfort, but he knew it would not be taken well.

Simon pulling himself back to the moment finished the highly edited tale.

Turns out that there was a large settlement from Simon's parents crash, which had been handled by a then public defender. Connie was informned and had a right to access it as his legal guardian, but she didn't. She asked Calvin Toliver, PA to create a trust for Simon that he would get at the age of 18 or in the event something happened to her.