The Fallen

It was a beautiful spring morning, with just the hint of winter’s cold that had only begrudgingly begun to recede a few short weeks ago.

The wind still had a sharpness to it and he zipped his brown leather jacket a little higher.

Gabriel cavorted with the ball clenched tightly in his mouth.

Since his strange ability to communicate with the dog manifested, Aaron was amazed at how little it took to make Gabriel truly happy: a scratch above his tail, a piece of cheese, calling him a good boy. Simplicity. It must be pretty awesome to get so much from so little, he mused as he watched the dog gallop toward him.

“Give me that ball,” Aaron demanded, playfully lowering himself into a menacing crouch.

Gabriel growled; the muscles in his back legs twitched with anticipation.

Aaron lunged and the dog bolted to avoid capture.

“C’mere, you crazy dog,” he said with a laugh, and began to chase the animal.

There was a part of him that really wasn’t too disappointed they hadn’t seen the old-timer. It meant a reprieve from serious thoughts of recent events, the weird questions with probably equally weird answers that he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to hear.

He snagged Gabriel by the choke chain around his neck and pulled the growling beast toward him. “Gotcha,” he said as he leaned close to the dog’s face. “Now I’m go

Gabriel’s growl grew louder, higher, more excited as he struggled to free himself. Aaron grabbed the spit-covered ball and pried it free from the dog’s mouth.

“The prize is mine!” Aaron proclaimed as he held the dripping ball aloft.

“Not prize,” Gabriel said, able to talk again now that the ball had been removed. “Just ball.”

Aaron wrinkled his nose in revulsion as he studied the slime-covered ball in his hand. “And what a ball it is,” he said.

He watched the dog’s head move from side to side as he tossed the te

“Want ball bad,” Gabriel responded, mesmerized by its movement.

Aaron made a move to throw it, hiding the ball beneath his arm, and the dog shot off in hot pursuit of nothing.

He laughed as he watched Gabriel searching the ground, even looking up into the air just in case it hadn’t fallen to earth yet.

“Yoohoo!” he called to the dog. And as Gabriel looked in his direction, he held the ball up. “Looking for this?”

Surprised, the dog charged back toward him. “How you get ball back?” he asked with amazement.

Aaron smiled. “Magic,” he said and chuckled.

“Magic,” Gabriel repeated in a soft, canine whisper of wonderment, his eyes still stuck to the ball.

The dog suddenly became distracted by something beyond Aaron. “Who that?” he asked.

“Who’s who?” Aaron turned around.

At first he didn’t recognize the man sitting on the bench across the common, soaking up the sunshine. But then the man waved, and he suddenly knew. Aaron felt his heart beat faster, questions turning through his mind, questions he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted answered.

“What wrong?” Gabriel asked, concern in his voice.

“Nothing,” Aaron said, not taking his eyes from the man on the bench.

“Then why afraid?”

Aaron looked down at the dog, startled by the question. “I’m not afraid,” he said, insulted by the dog’s insinuation.

The dog looked at him and then across the common. “Afraid of stranger?”

“I told you I am not afraid,” Aaron said anxiously, and began to head toward the man.

“Smell afraid,” the dog stressed as he followed by his side.

They were about six feet away when Gabriel moved ahead of him, his head tilted back as he sniffed the air. “Man smell old,” he said. “Old and different,” he added between drafts of air.

Aaron could see that the man was smiling, his long wispy, white hair moving around his head in the cool, spring breeze.

“Beautiful day,” the old man said in English, rather than the ancient language he’d been speaking when they first met.

Gabriel ran at the man, tail wagging.

“Gabriel, no!” Aaron ordered, speeding up to catch the dog. “Get over here.”

The dog leaped up, putting his two front paws on the bench, and began to lick the stranger’s face as if they were old friends.

“Hello, I Gabriel,” he said as he licked and sniffed at the man’s face, neck, and ears. “Who you?”

“My name is Ezekiel, but you can call me Zeke,” the man answered as he patted the dog’s soft yellow head.

“Are you telling me or the dog?” Aaron asked as he took Gabriel by the collar and gently pulled him away. “Get down, Gabriel,” he said sharply. “Behave.”

The dog went silent, bowing his head, embarrassed that he had been scolded.

“He asked me what my name was and I told him,” Zeke said as he sat back on the bench and smiled at the dog. “He’s a beautiful animal. You’re very lucky to have him.”

Aaron stroked Gabriel’s head in an attempt to keep the excitable animal calm. He laughed at the old man and smiled slyly. “So the dog spoke to you?”

Zeke smiled back. “You spoke the language of the messenger to me yesterday,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t tell me you can’t understand the dog.”

Aaron felt as if he had been slapped; a hot, tingling sweat erupted at the base of his neck and shoulder blades. “Who…who are you?” he asked—not the best of questions, but the only one he could dredge up at the moment.

“Zeke,” Gabriel answered helpfully, pulling away from Aaron to lick at the man’s hands. “Zeke, Aaron. He Zeke.”

Zeke smiled and reached out to rub beneath the dog’s chin. “He’s right, aren’t you?” he asked the panting animal. “I’m Zeke and you are—what did he call you? Aaron?”

The old man wiped the dog’s slobber on his pant leg and extended his hand toward Aaron. He hesitated at first, but then took Zeke’s hand in his and they shook.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Aaron. Sorry about yesterday. Did I scare you?”

Their hands came apart and Aaron shrugged. “Wasn’t so much scaring as confusing the hell out of me.”

Zeke nodded in understanding and continued to pet Gabriel. “I bet it’s been pretty strange for you the last couple a’ days.”

Questions screamed to be asked, but Aaron kept them at bay, choosing to let the old man reveal what he knew at a natural pace. He didn’t want to appear too eager.

“And how do you know that?”

The old man tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sniffed the air.

“How do I know that summer’s right around the corner?” he asked, letting the morning sunshine bathe his grizzled, unshaven features.

The man didn’t appear as old as Aaron originally had thought, probably in his early sixties, but there was something about him—in his eyes, in the way he carried himself—that made Aaron think he was much older.

“It’s in the air, boy,” Zeke said. “I can smell it.”

“Okay,” Aaron said. “You could smell that I was having a bad time. That makes sense.”

Zeke nodded. “Kinda, sorta. I could smell that you were changing, and just assumed that you were probably having some problems with it.”

Aaron had put the te

Gabriel ran off in pursuit. They watched the dog in silence. Aaron wanted to leave—but something kept him there. Perhaps it was the chance of an explanation.

“What happened first?” Zeke asked, breaking the silence. “Was it the language thing? Did the dog start talking and you thought you’d lost all your marbles?”

Aaron didn’t want to answer but found it was impossible to hold back. “Kids at school were speaking Portuguese. I don’t know how to speak Portuguese, but suddenly I could understand them perfectly fine, like they were speaking English.”