Substitute

He kept his brisk pace all the way from the Big Oak until the next dusty intersection and then allowed himself another discreet glance backwards. When again he saw no one he wondered whether he was actually being followed or simply losing his mind. A desperate desire to search more was met and overpowered by a realisation of the time. In the near distance he saw the rusted post box, a sign he was within a kilometre of the homestead that today would double as a church. His body followed orders without question; the box drew closer.

“I won’t do it Sir. I’m sorry but I just won’t.”

“You’ve been paid a lot of money. You will.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I can’t leave it alone for fear it may get vandalised.”

“There’s no one around to do that.”

“Animals.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No cow’s going to piss on your car.”

‘I’m sorry Sir. I can’t.’

The exchange repeated over and over. It filled the time between periodic glances back in search of an untraceable and possibly non-existent companion.
Reaching the post box brought little relief. On inspection the quiet road behind was still unmanned. He leant his hand against the large tree to which the post box was attached and inadvertently its sap weeping from a fresh wound.

The birds sang merrily to him as he passed through the property gate. In his mind they were unsettled. A warning. The owner had shown he and his fiancée two days earlier how prone this gate was to breaking, he’d been very strict with instructions on how to open and close it.

He was twenty metres up the drive when that same metallic gate crashed down on dry earth. Wheeling around he saw for the first time who’d been following him before collapsing into unconsciousness.

Adrian stood on the steps of the homestead waiting ever so impatiently. He searched his mobile phone needlessly for missed calls. There were none. His frustration ebbed and flowed in sync with the phone’s patchy reception. Another five minutes passed and Adrian slumped onto the steps, defeated. It would now be his responsibility to explain to all assembled that the wedding would have to be postponed. He was rehearsing lines of explanation in a low mumble as he attempted to summon any courage he had spare.

“Adrian” came a familiar voice.

“What are you doing here?” followed Adrian’s slightly muddled response.

“I’m getting married.”

“Yeah but where have you been? I was calling.”

Adrian didn’t hear the excuse, momentarily distracted by the unusual fact that his best friend was checking his phone for missed calls right-handed, something odd for a ‘leftie’.

In a parallel reality an Angel sat casually back in his chair mindlessly plucking at a harp left for his enjoyment. It was the only thing in the room apart from an unconscious body lying calmly on a bed just centimetres from his feet. While his fingers strummed his mind contemplated the man dressed in a white suit and the small puddle of sap directly below where his hand hung over the edge.

Some of the bridesmaids were unnerved. The bride now represented something of a minefield. Any false verbal step could result in an explosion. It was for this reason that they remained very quiet and very still as they waited for the one man that could dismantle the danger.

‘He’s here,’ braved one of them reading the text Adrian had just sent her.

The music began and provided the cue for the women to leave their chamber and begin chirping in excitement once more.

As the vows were being taken the body on the bed stirred, sat up and searched around for something familiar before settling on what he would all but call a man wearing a welcoming expression next to a harp.

“Who are you?”

“Welcome.”

“To where?”

“It’s hard to say really. What I can tell you is that you’ve been subbed, that I’m an Angel and that you’re going to love this place.”

“Angel?”

“More of a job title really. But that’s not the point. As I said you’re subbed. Someone who died unfairly early in life was offered a second chance and yours was the life chosen. He’s grown up with you, following your every move as you lived it. He knows you, or rather himself now, inside and out.”

“On my wedding day?!”

“Big events make the transition smoother. Any initial errors or jitters they have as you have a better chance of going unnoticed.”

“That’s ridiculously unfair.”

“I’ve been in this room for forty-eight hours with a harp and an unconscious guy for company. That’s unfair. Would you like to see them?”

The first thing he saw was the same clone that had been following him just hours earlier now with his fiancée. They were leaving the makeshift church in a haze of excitement. Kisses and congratulations carried them down the steps towards an empty drive.

“Honey, where’s the car?” She asked her recently crowned husband.

“It broke down. That’s why I was late.”

“So how do we get to our honeymoon?”

Proving to be an ever-reliable best man Adrian stepped in offering the keys to his pride and joy.

“Take mine.”

Initially it seemed a great idea. It was only as he opened the door and took his place in the driver’s seat that a great wave of uncertainty took hold. At the time of his passing he’d never even sat in the front seat let alone drive. Watching from afar is no substitute for hands on experience. Automatic he noticed, a small stroke of luck.

As they cruised off down the drive and through the now defunct gate his confidence grew. The country roads offered a stress free crash-course in handling. Once they left the property boundaries however, the gravel grew looser, the tree line thicker, closer and this mixed with his inexperience was enough to tempt fate once more. It was quick like the first time, unexpected. And just like the first time he awoke to that welcoming face sitting next to a harp.