We're Waiting

By CJ Knight

The waves crashing onto the cliff face below never forgot her name. All these years later, Caleb Roberts could still hear the thunder of those waves swallowing Maria’s body. He was too late that day, but not this day. Now, Caleb was dying.

He staggered through the trees bordering the coast. A hand pressed against the wound below his ribs. Blood trickled between his fingers, flowing like a crimson tide. His breath rattled in his lungs like coins shaken in a tin. Adrenaline gone. Justice and vengeance served. The cost drained from his side.

Caleb staggered to a nearby trunk, resting his head against the rough and damp bark. The air smelled of salt and pine. His vision swam as the world tilted before him.

***

He found Gerald Pike fishing on the jetty. The world knew Gerald the banker. Caleb knew Gerald, the murderer. He pushed Maria off the cliff when she threatened to expose him. Caleb watched the man smile at detectives, lie to juries, and walk a free man. Gerald lived quietly ever since. Caleb handed in his badge and spent his days drinking, and memorising the churn of the ocean waves.

This morning, Gerald did not recognise Caleb when he found him on the jetty. That was until Caleb grabbed him. “You! Jesus, You!” A struggle followed. Gerald’s fishing knife glistened under the rays of the morning sun. The surface of the water, a spray of panic. Caleb forced Gerald’s head beneath the ocean surface until his body fell limp. He let go of the body, and the waves carried it to the cliff face to be battered by the rolling tide.

Caleb pulled himself free of the water and collapsed onto the planks of the jetty, Gerald’s knife in his side below his ribs. Justice served. But Justice was never clean. He staggered to his feet and stumbled into the woods. A place where his blood would fall unnoticed.

***

Caleb stumbled forward and found himself in a small clearing. At the centre stood an angelic statue. Once white, now faded by weather. The angel knelt with head bowed. Caleb cared little for angels and never prayed. But he staggered toward this angel now. Not by thought or logic, but drawn toward it but some force unseen. Caleb sank to his knees before the statue, blood running into the dirt. The air became still and silent, as if holding its breath, or time stood still.

“You did the right thing, Caleb.” The voice was smooth and masculine.

“No.” A feminine voice corrected. “He acted. The meaning of the act remains to be decided.”

Caleb closed his eyes. A smile touched his lips. “Figures.” His breath rattled in his chest. “The dead come calling the moment I take a break.”

“Not the dead.” The man responded.

Caleb opened his eyes to find two figures standing on either side of the kneeling angel. The man wore a long grey coat, his hair pale gold, eyes blue as a summer sky. The woman, a contrast, was strikingly beautiful. Raven black hair, in a dress that shifted like smoke in a silent breeze. Her eyes, black as coal, radiated danger and warmth.

The man bowed his head. “I am Gabriel.”

“I am Bune.” The woman mirrored Gabriel’s gesture with elegance.

Caleb let out a hoarse laugh, which was stifled by pain. “Are your names supposed to mean something to me?”

“They will.” Gabriel lifted his head.

Bune smiled.

Caleb swayed, catching himself on the base of the statue. “You’re not real. It’s the blood loss. I knew it was bad the moment the knife went in.”

Gabriel’s voice remained smooth and calm. “You are not hallucinating, Caleb.”

Bune knelt down. Her fingers brushed within an inch of Caleb’s cheek. He felt the heat radiating from her. Soothing, almost maternal. “Your body is failing, Caleb. But your spirit has yet to cross.”

“So I’m dead.”

“Dying.” Gabriel corrected.

“What does that make you?” Caleb studied them both. “Angels? Demons? Let me guess. One of each to fight for my soul?”

“Your words are insufficient.” Gabríel whispered.

Bune smirked. “But not incorrect.”

Caleb sank back against the base of the statue. “Why come for me? I’m a nobody.”

Gabriel tilted his head in confusion. “You are not a nobody.”

Bune nodded in agreement. “You are a man of weight. Lived by rules, broke them when he must, and paid in blood. Heavy morality is meaningful.”

Caleb pressed his palm to his wound in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. “Maria didn’t deserve what he did to her.”

“No,” Gabriel whispered. “Maria did not.”

Bune’s voice hitched like a rising flame. “Maria deserved the vengeance you provided.”

A knot tightened in Caleb’s chest. Whether it was pride, shame, or both, he didn’t know.

Gabriel stepped closer. His body radiated a refreshing coolness, like the air after a storm. “You sought justice where it failed. A righteous act.”

“And a vengeful one.” Bune countered, circling slowly. “An act of passion. A flame. Action where the system fails.”

Caleb’s vision clouded. “So, this is it? Heaven or Hell.”

“Again.” Gabriel smiled for the first time. “Simplistic words.”

Bune laughed. “But apt ones.”

Caleb coughed, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. “What do you want from me?”

Gabriel knelt, meeting his eyes. “I want you to rest. To join me where your longing for justice is something beautiful.”

Bune joined them on her knees. “I want you to join me. A place where passion is not punished, but celebrated. Where your decisiveness will be admired, not burdened by guilt.”

Caleb nodded. “This is a sales pitch.”

“Not quite.” Gabriel whispered.

“Think of it as an invitation.” Bune added.

Caleb looked up into the eyes of the angel towering above them. His breath trembled in his chest. “What if I don’t think I deserve either?”

Gabriel’s voice remained soft. “It’s not a question of deserving.”

Bune’s gentle fingers found his wrist. “We are here because you matter, Caleb.”

Caleb’s vision darkened at the edges like an inward curl of the burning edge of a piece of paper. “I killed a man today.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes.”

“An act to balance the scales.” Bune whispered.

“It wasn’t justice,” Caleb whispered. “Not really.”

“No,” Bune whispered. “It was something more.”

Gabriel added, “And something profoundly human.”

“I’m tired,” Caleb whispered. “So damn tired.” He closed his eyes.

“We know,” Gabriel stood.

“Then let me rest.”

“You may,” Bune stood.

Caleb opened his eyes to see them standing on either side of the angel, patient, expectant. Eternal figures waiting for a mortal decision. Every breath in Caleb’s chest felt borrowed on credit he no longer held. “What happens when I choose?”

Gabriel was the first to speak. “You will rise in a place where justice is neither blind nor cruel. Where acts and intentions are understood. You will find peace, Caleb.”

Bune followed. “Or you will come with me, where fire is creation, not punishment. Where passion shapes and creates worlds. Where your strength will not be softened by coward’s rules.”

Caleb studied his bloody hands. He thought of Maria. Of Gerald’s smug smile the day he walked free from court. He thought of the sickening crack of Gerald’s corpse slamming against the cliff face in the ocean waves. Caleb, who swore an oath once upon a time, and became someone else afterward. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You are Caleb Roberts,” Gabriel said.

“And you are wanted.” Bune said.

“So, I choose.” Caleb’s breath shortened. His chest cold. His eyes closed behind heavy lids, but his mind remained sharp. He felt himself hovering, no longer tethered to flesh. But he remained present to make a choice. He opened his eyes. They waited. Gabriel with a gentle smile, and Bune with a knowing one. They spoke together, voices harmonizing in impossible balance.

“We’re waiting.”