Isabella was wondering if she’d turned everything off back in her unit. She could quickly jump on a tram and go check but then she would miss the bus and there wouldn’t be another one until tomorrow. She would’ve loved to have one of those apps that turned the power off remotely. But she finally convinced herself everything was off and all was good.
A man in a long black coat stood not far from Isabella. He reminded Isabella of the shadow people she saw sometimes—full cloaked people with no form. She’d also seen tiny things jumping around. She’d been told they were known as imps—smaller fairy, demon-like creatures. She knew it was nothing but an after-effect of the drugs. Once she took another pill they’d become invisible again.
She let out a silent sigh. Was that man following her? Her paranoia also got worse as the medication wore off. I’m sure he is.
The bus entered the bay, late. Isabella stood up and headed towards the bus. She glanced back to the seat to see her wallet had fallen out of her backpack. She chastised herself and went back and picked it up.
There weren’t a lot of passengers getting on the bus. Isabella found a seat halfway down. She moved over to the window to check on the black-coated man. He was moving away but talking on his phone. Telling someone about her? Telling them the bus number. Should she get off? She heard the hiss as the door closed. Too late.
With her obsession with the black-coated man she hadn’t noticed another take the seat behind her, but she did now. And he was talking on the phone as well. Were they talking to each other? She looked back at the window. No, the other man was off the phone now and this man was still talking. But if he was some kind of spy he’d probably pretend to be talking so she didn’t get suspicious. Oh, Isabella.
She hadn’t told anybody about the strange things she saw because nobody would believe her. It was the drugs. She believed in God, angels, demons, so she wasn’t scared. Just confused. She talked to God often but it seemed to be a one-way relationship at the moment. Since they put her on those tablets her God connection was unplugged and she couldn’t get connected again. She even found her church music flat and she used to love the worship songs.
Isabella looked around the bus. There were only a few passengers. One man had a long beard like her granddad. And the man who sat directly behind her. Isabella’s eyes connected with his for a brief moment—nothing. The man’s thin lips parted to give Isabella a wry smile. She shivered, turned to face the front, and then reached for her tablets and bottled water. She washed her tablets down with water and waited for her negative and fearful thoughts to drift away.
The hiss of the doors caught her attention. Another passenger got on. He was a tall man who wore a baseball cap, a tartan scarf, and a brown plaid jacket—and nothing matched. He gave the impression of a gentleman and seemed the gregarious type as he had a laugh with the bus driver. The man started walking down the aisle but he slowed as he got close to Isabella’s seat.
He wasn’t going to sit by her. There are spare seats everywhere. Isabella felt her heart thumping. Go away. I want to be by myself.
He passed Isabella. She relaxed. But then she sensed a presence. He was back.
“Do you mind if I sit with you? I’ve something to tell you.”
Isabella fought the panic. Perplexed, she stared at the man.
“Something to tell me? Do I know you?” Isabella looked to the front of the bus. The bus driver was looking in his mirror—waiting for the man to take a seat before he pulled out of the bay, or waiting for Isabella to scream.
“I will be getting off shortly. No need to panic. Trust me”
Those words touched something in Isabella. They floated into her, bringing with them a feeling of peace. She nodded.
The man waved—an okay signal—to the bus driver. Isabella moved in her seat to protect her body space as the man sat down next to her. He removed a baseball cap and tucked it under his arm. Isabella saw that it was a cap for supporters of the Melbourne Football Club. As he sat down she noticed he gave a quick glance to the man sitting behind.
The bus pulled out the loading bay and turned on to Spencer Street. Isabella stared out the window and felt pleased that she’d made the effort to get out of town for awhile. Her pleasure was short lived as she noticed the man with the black coat getting into a black vehicle. She hoped they were going shopping and not following the bus.
After a brief accidental body touch, Isabella had pushed herself up against the window. She turned to the man sitting next to her. He gave her a smile.
The man tapped his scarf. “Do you like the scarf? It’s a Mackenzie tartan.”
Isabella looked at the scarf and then at the man. There was something about his eyes. He was looking at her as if he was waiting for the description of the scarf to sink deep into her mind.
“I’m a messenger, Isabella. We don’t normally reveal ourselves. You’re about to embark on a journey that’s going to benefit many people, although you won’t think so at the time. There’s a sickness rippling through this land and we want to bring healing, to bring people back.”
“A messenger?” This was real. It wasn’t the drugs. She had taken her dose when she first sat down on the bus. She also felt peaceful—although she wasn’t sure if the peace was from the drugs or this person.
“We know you see things, Isabella. They’re real, just like I am. I’m a messenger from your Heavenly Father. He knows you are struggling, and he knows the cause.”
“The cause?”
“It’s the medication. And it is being driven by evil, not by man. That’s what we’re to overcome. Your journey is all about this. You need to know I’ll be with you, empowered by our God. Know that, and use it as your strength.”
Isabella just stared at the man.
He touched her leg. She felt power coming into her body. “I’ll be getting off shortly. Let things unfold, knowing that we’re with you.”
“Okay.” Isabella said rubbing her legs.
“You’ll be okay. And do not be concerned about the man behind you. I’ll render him to a state of confusion. He’ll get off the bus soon.” The messenger pressed the next stop button and got out of his seat. He turned to the man behind Isabella. “I believe this is your stop coming up.”
A few moments later the bus pulled into a stop. She watched the messenger allow the stranger to head down the aisle before him. The messenger put his cap back on and gave Isabella a farewell smile. “You’ll be okay.”
She believed that. She knew he was an angel. She watched him walk off and noticed some writing on the back of his cap but couldn’t work out what it was. She yawned. Did he sprinkle some sleep dust on her? As always, her thoughts went to her parents as she dozed off.
13 – White horse, blue dog
A SIREN WOKE ISABELLA. Initially startled, she worked out her bearings. It was a police car hurrying to get somewhere, perhaps in pursuit. Slowly, the messenger’s words came back into her head. Medication, evil, journey. Had she been dreaming? She looked around the bus. The same passengers. The man with the long beard smiled at her. She returned a soft smile.
He did look like her granddad. She got out her phone and checked the time and location. Something white caught her attention and she turned and looked out the window. It was a statue of a white horse—she recognised it and knew she was in Box Hill.
Mum had told her the horse was the symbol for a hotel in the area that was shut down when the district banned the sale of liquor—an evil drug, in her mother’s eyes. But as if to balance her negative view her mother told her another story about a white horse, about how white was seen as a symbol of purity and victory—purity for the wedding and victory for our King. She told her Jesus was coming back on a white horse, He was going to make things right: all the wrong things fixed, all evil removed, and those drugs controlling the minds of people would be eliminated.
Isabella had found her mum’s comment about the drugs strange, considering she was involved in making such drugs. Maybe she’d meant illegal drugs.
Still sleepy, Isabella pictured Jesus riding the white horse, his eyes blazing and head crowned, with his mighty army following on more white horses. That brought peace to her heart. And then she saw white pills falling out of the sky exploding, making clouds in the sky.
Mum had loved Jesus. Dad had too, but not to the same extent as Mum. Could there be extents when it comes to loving the Lord? Mum wanted to spend more time with Jesus than Dad. Maybe it was a male thing, genetics, masculinity—Dad hadn’t liked singing aloud, clapping his hands, or praying in public. He preferred to be working in a shed than sitting on a pew, but he was getting better. And now they’d been taken away.
A few nights before the accident, Isabella was coughing and Mum came to check up on her. They had talked for a while. Mum asked if she thought about Madeleine—her close friend who took her own life some years back. Isabella just shook her head. There was something Isabella never spoke to her mum about—the teasing.
Mum told her that if anything was to happen to them, she was to go to granddad. Isabella replayed the conversation in her head. “But Mum, I’ve never been to his place. I can barely remember meeting him. What, was it fifteen years ago? Don’t get me wrong, I love the man and look forward to our regular online chats. Besides, nothing will ever happen to you. The Lord watches over you and you’re a brainy chick with pharmaceutical companies fighting over you.”
Her mum’s response was odd. “That’s the problem,” she had said.
On the day of the accident Isabella was in bed, sick. She battled the guilt feelings associated with this. Depression liked to dig those feelings up.
She wasn’t sure how long her thought processing went on for, but she decided the bus was on time and texted her granddad. Bus on time. Should be at Healesville at 5.10. Love Bella.
She returned to staring out the window. Who was that man? Was he really a messenger from God?
<°)))><
Sunset was not far away as the bus pulled into the bus stop at Healesville at 5.07 pm. Isabella came out from her seat and, as was her habit, looked back to check what she’d forgotten. This time it was her water bottle. Again she chastised herself and reached back to grab the bottle.
She stepped off the bus. As she waited for her luggage she took a deep breath. The wintery air smelt different in the countryside, almost like the smell of burnt toast. It was chilly. Had she left the dark clouds in Melbourne?
She shrugged up her shoulders and looked around for her granddad’s old jalopy, which he had showed her many images of in different states of repair. It was going to be parked near the hotel. A black Mazda parked, but no one got out. Her paranoia had been arrested so she gave no second thought to that car.
Her watch beeped. Choices: the phone or the watch. She used the watch to read the message. Walk down to Blue Dog Café. Down street on the left side. Will meet you there. Gramps.
