Page 11 - Archangel

“What the hell are you talking about?” Skye inquired, yet offering little
help to blunt the obvious despair of a family broken - hearted and focused
with the resolve of three grieving killers. His own heart barely fueled his
breathing through the sadness and Northern Ireland torrents.
“So ‘What now’ MacIain?” Rory repeated. “We’ve come to beg for your
help to find who did this to our Sean, your Sean. A name, a lead, anything
which will lead us to the bastards who stole hope, goodness and Godliness
from our lives. We’ll take it from there, we will.”
In hearing these words, something snapped in Skye – either a puzzle
piece falling into place, or a fracture of the wounded soul which may
never heal.
The Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) commander continued,
“In return? I and my brothers pledge to help you in any way you need, no
questions asked, as often as necessary to keep our brother’s lifework going.
And keep his ‘do gooder’ friend from also dying in the process.”
Pausing for breath, Rory exclaimed, “If we don’t do this, then it was
all for nothin’, the fuggin’ worst waste of a Godly life, and the Devil’s
cruelest joke on those who know him all too well.” With an irreverent
laugh, he admitted through clinched teeth, “Like me and my brothers
who dance with him daily in fighting for a Free Ireland, while you two
were out there saving a world I’m not sure is worth saving. Sean himself
would be screaming at us for asking this of you. Being unfair and
probably endangering your life, we are.” Staring down at the gravesite, he
added, “But then, that’s nothing new for you two, is it?”
Fury finally gave way to regret as Skye hissed, “It should’ve been
me! I was up to my ass in a cholera epidemic 10 miles away when
Sean was hacked to death for helping someone in need, no matter
their tribe. Because I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be, while he
handled the outbreak. But he made me go since his latest patient had
complications. You should be talking to Sean, while y’all sprinkle half
my ashes in a friggin’ Coastal Georgia high tide, and the other half on
Ardnamurchan or the Isle of Skye.”

legacy of celtic courage

As Skye shivered in despair at that memory and Rory etched every word
and detail into his heart, the Irish Nationalist sighed deeply and comforted
Skye with, “If you and Sean are right and there is a heaven, Sean is in it.

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