Page 41 of Avenging Angel

Daisy inhales deeply before letting out a long sigh. “They knew what tunnel we entered, so that’s where they’ll start. But from the looks of it, that’s where the largest explosion occurred. I’ve already moved most of the little ones I could reach while you were playing ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ While I certainly could use your muscles, you need to rest. That bump on your noggin is pretty bad. You might have a concussion.”

“Still.”

Looking up at me with tenderness in her gaze and a look that isn’t quite love but is more than friendship, she says, “Physical labor will only increase our breathing rate. The heavier we breathe, the more CO2 there will be taking up space. As much as it pains me to say this, the best thing we can do to increase our chances of survival is to do nothing at all.”

She’s not wrong, and I’m a little surprised she knows about the dangers of hypoxia. I didn’t until I had to go to an altitude chamber for jump training. And the only reason for that training was because there were times my team and I had to jump from a plane at high altitudes to evade detection before hiking to our target location.

I pull her closer and clasp my hands to keep her firmly tucked against me. “I guess the bright side to being stuck in a cave is that this time you aren’t alone.”

As Daisy’s eyes close, her breathing slows, and exhaustion takes hold, she whispers, “I wasn’t alone the first time either.”

It could be half an hour or half a day later when Daisy wakes up. Though time passes slowly when there’s no frame of reference, I wasn’t counting the seconds or minutes. I was relishing them, hoping time would slow down even further.

The entire time I watched her sleep, occasionally dozing myself, I kept wondering what she meant when she said she wasn’t alone. Was she referring to her captor? Was there another girl there with her who was never mentioned? Everything in her thin file indicated it was just her.

When she sits up and stretches, she turns on the headlamp that I’d switched off when she fell asleep. Daisy plants her hands at her sides to stand, but I gently tug on her shirt to keep her rooted in place. The air in the cavern has already changed enough that breathing is becoming more difficult and my vision is becoming blurry.

“Stay.” I mean it more as a request, but my parched throat makes it sound like a demand. Daisy seems to know the difference because she doesn’t fight me. If she thought it was a command, no doubt she would have done the complete opposite.

I reach over to my pack and grab the tube that gives me access to the water bladder tucked inside. After offering it to Daisy first and then taking several large gulps of water, I say, “What did you mean when you said you weren’t alone?”

She shakes her head as if it’s not a story she wants to share. Then she must decide differently because she draws her knees up to her chest and rocks back and forth. “You’re going to think I sound nuts.”

“Doubtful. A little unhinged maybe, but not full-on bonkers.”

My joke does what I intended, eliciting a quick chuckle before Daisy relaxes her shoulders just a fraction of an inch.

Gathering her courage, she admits, “I heard a voice in my head. Not my voice, Angel. A voice that resonated so deeply that I had no choice but to listen. At first, I thought it was my subconscious, and at times I thought I was truly going mad. But that voice gave me instructions, specific instructions that aided me in my escape.”

“Do you believe that God was talking to you?”

Daisy spears me with a look that warns me to tread lightly. “Don’t say it like that. God talks to people all the time. Maybe not directly, but in a way that someone would understand and know that it’s Him.”

I pull her back into my embrace, hoping to diffuse her ire. “I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. I was trying to validate what you were saying.”

She stays quiet for a long while, and for a brief second, I think I’m hearing voices. Unlike Daisy, these aren’t in my head. I listen intently, only to be met with more silence. The CO2 buildup must be worse than I thought.

“Do you believe in angels?” Daisy asks, almost too quiet to hear. In a cavern that echoes, that’s quite a feat.

“It would be hard not to, considering that’s what my mom named me. But yes, I wholeheartedly believe that angels exist.”

“I’ll be more specific. Do you believe in guardian angels, or that they can take human form?”

Oh, I see where she’s going with this. I don’t have to tread lightly to answer this one. “Absolutely. Positively. Without a doubt.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thesaurus,” she jokes.

I kiss the top of her head before resting my cheek against it. “In Exodus, God sent an angel ahead of the Israelites to guard them and guide them. If that’s not a guardian angel, I don’t know what is. Then there’s the angel who closed the lion’s mouth and spared Daniel.”

Contemplative, Daisy nods but says nothing for a very long time. It’s enough that I once again start to doze off, fatigue getting the better of me. It’s either the air making me tired or simply needing sleep to heal. Her voice startles me awake.

“When I ask about human form, I’m referring to a physical manifestation. Like an angel carrying someone to safety. Not just an intervention.”

“My favorite angel story in the Bible is just that. The story is in the book of Acts, and it describes an angel of the Lord rescuing Peter from prison. On the day Peter was to be executed, an angel struck Peter on his side and said, ‘Quick, get up!’ Then the angel gave Peter very explicit directions. He told him to put on his clothes and sandals, then wrap a cloak over his body and follow. Peter did as instructed, but the entire time he thought he was hallucinating.”

Daisy smiles, and it’s the genuine kind that comes from relief. “I know this story well. In verse 11, after Peter and the angel passed by the guards without detection, Peter said, ‘Now I know without a doubt that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were hoping would happen.’ A part of me was hoping you’d know it too.”

“So, you don’t think it was God talking to you, but one of His messengers.” I don’t phrase it like a question because it isn’t one.