Zinyael picks the car with the older woman driving

Although the two scruffy young men claim to know Clark, Zinyael does not trust their word. Something seems unsavory about these two men and she becomes suddenly afraid of what they might do to her if she were to get into their travel machine.

"No thank you," says Zinyael. "I do not believe you know Clark Bennett."

She turns and begins to walk towards the older woman standing next to her vehicle.

"Yeah, we do," the man calls after Zinyael. "He's the little fag with the tiny dick!"

The machine startles her by making a loud screeching noise and smoke as it pulls away. The men inside laugh at her and shout lewd comments about her body that she can only half hear. Something about her backside needing to be spanked. Zinyael watches the machine drive away and is almost startled again as the woman steps beside her.

"Are you alright, young lady?" The woman asks with concern. "What are you doing alone out here naked on the road?"

Zinyael regards the woman carefully. She is a fit, brown-haired woman of middle age with a pretty face, red lipstick, and pearl earrings. She wears large eyeglasses that make her brown eyes seem even larger and she is wearing a white jacket over a turtleneck sweater that does not disguise her ample bust. She is wearing blue trousers that Zinyael recognizes as "jeans" although the fit is quite snug on this woman's round hips and plump backside.

"I am looking for Clark Bennett," says Zinyael. "I need his help."

"Alright, alright," says the woman. She walks Zinyael over to the car and takes out a heavy blanket from the trunk. She drapes this over Zinyael's shoulders and adjusts it to cover up Zinyael's breasts. The warmth is comforting in the face of the chill wind. "Are you on anything, honey? How did you get here?"

"On... the ground? Um, I fell from the sky," says Zinyael. "That is how I got to this place."

The woman looks at her for a moment and says, "Huh. Abby, you want to move into the back for me. Our friend here can ride up front. What was your name?"

"I am Zinyael," says the angel.

"Seriously, mom?" The young woman gets out of the vehicle and gets into the backseat of the car. Zinyael only glimpses Abby, but she sees a fair-haired young woman of about Clark's age. She has her mother's face and eyeglasses, but she is much fuller-bodied as though she eats to excess. Despite this roundness to her features and her physique, Zinyael thinks Abby is beautiful.

"My name is Barbara Vincent and that is my daughter, Abby," explains the middle-aged woman. "We can give you a ride, but I want to make sure you are not a danger."

Zinyael is not certain why this woman would think she is dangerous. The woman takes a small flashlight out of her pocket and touches Zinyael's face, pulling her eyelid lower. The woman shines the flashlight straight into the fallen angel's eye. Zinyael flinches away from the bright light. The woman takes hold of Zinyael's wrist and presses two fingers tightly.

"Strong heartbeat," she says. "No pinned pupils. If you're on something, I don't know what it is."

"The ground," Zinyael reminds her.

"Yeah, right," chuckles the woman. She helps Zinyael into the side door of the vehicle and the fallen angel sits down on the seat. The woman crosses around to her side and gets in the car.

"Would you like me to take you to a hospital or to the police?" Barbara asks as she guides the vehicle onto the road.

"Clark Bennett," says Zinyael.

"You could find him online," offers Abby, leaning forward from the backseat.

"On-line?" Zinyael looks back at the young woman.

"The computer," says Barbara. "I'll take you to our house. You can borrow some clothes, maybe have something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Hungry?" The thought of being hungry has never occurred to Zinyael. She has a strange mild pain in her belly. Is that hunger? She decides, "Yes, I am hungry. I need food to live like humans."

"Right," chuckles Barbara. "You're an odd girl, Zinyael. What is that name? Greek? From the Bible?"

Zinyael nods. "From the Bible."

The vehicle travels very quickly over the stone road. It passes many other stone roads and through houses and buildings that glow in the darkness. The world has changed so much over the years of Zinyael's existence. There are so many more people and the live in the dark and cold and heat as if it is nothing to them. They drive in machines and even fly in them. Even their small cities seem huge. They seem to go on forever, linked by stone roads that are traveled day and night by the machines with the lights on the front.

They arrive at a large, two-story house with trees in the yard that show signs of autumn's arrival. Zinyael is glad that at least the seasons are still the same. The humans have not changed the world so much to eliminate those. Not yet. Barbara and Abby help Zinyael out of the car and into the house.

"I am not injured," she explains. They keep their hands on her elbows anyway.

The inside of the house is like palace to Zinyael's eyes, with plush furniture and lights that glow as bright as the heavens. They are greeted at the door by an elderly man with a kind face. His eyes go wide as he sees Zanyael.

"Who is this now?" The old man asks.

"I am Zinyael." She smiles sweetly at him and shrugs out of the blanket, extending her hand in friendship. The old man staggers back at step at the sight of Zinyael's glorious body, fully nude. Barbara and Abby quickly cover her back up.

"Go to your bedroom, Robert," says Barbara. "Please. I will bring your dinner when it's ready."

"Oh... alright," says the old man, stumbling backwards. As he goes, Zinyael sees a faint golden aura of life around him. The beating of his heart is troubled. There is a darkness there, a sickness, and Zinyael knows it will claim him soon. She retains enough of her angelic power to heal him. Would that qualify as a good deed?

"Robert is my father-in-law," explains Barbara.

Before Zinyael can ask him if he would like her help, Robert disappears down the hallway and Zinyael is guided to a chair in the dining room. Abby brings her a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. The fallen angel samples them tentatively and they both taste delicious. She quickly devours the cookies and gulps down the glass of cold milk.

"Wow, what do you call this?" She asks, holding up the last cookie.

"Vanilla wafers," says Barbara.

"They're like the lamest cookie," says Abby. "It's all mom will buy lately."

Barbara casts an annoyed glance at her daughter and Zinyael can see their auras faintly crackling with hostility. She also sees a darkness on Abby's mind. A sickness of her soul, rather than her flesh. Barbara says, "Abby, go get her some of your old clothes. A sweatshirt and some sweatpants or something."

"You mean from before I got fat?"

"I didn't say that," snaps Barbara.

Abby returns with a sweatshirt for the Chicago White Sox and a pair of sweatpants that fit Zinyael almost perfectly. She changes into them shamelessly in front of the mother and daughter. Abby stares and both women go red in the face as Zinyael exposes her body without concern for what they see. The baggy shirt and old pants do not diminish the fallen angel's beauty. There is a rumbling sound from outside and both women look to to the door.

"Randall," says Barbara. "I'm glad he didn't come home ten minutes early."

Randall Vincent enters the home moments later, a handsome, fit, middle-aged man looking at mail so intently that he does not immediately notice the beautiful young woman standing in the room. When he looks up, he is speechless for a moment.

"Who is... hello... I'm Randy." He offers his hand to Zinyael. "Are you one of Abby's friends?"

"This is Zinyael, she, uh, she needed our help," says Barbara.

Zinyael takes Randy's hand and shakes it. She sees a crimson ripple travel through Randy's golden aura and a darkness centered on his loins. It is both a physical and a spiritual affliction. She can feel it. The fallen angel gazes into his eyes, her pale blue eyes twinkling faintly.

Barbara clears her throat and steps between them. "We're helping her. It's a long story. She is trying to find someone named Clark Bennett. Abby was going to help her look him up on her laptop in her bedroom. And I was going to make dinner."

"I have a computer in my office she could use," says Randy. "Come on up. I'd be happy to help you... Zinyael."

He heads upstairs to his office, Abby to her bedroom. Barbara turns her attention to the kitchen where she begins preparing a meal.

"Make yourself at home, Zinyael," says the middle-aged woman. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes."

Zinyael senses so many opportunities to help the ailing that she is not certain which to pursue. She also senses something in Barbara Vincent. The attractive older woman is missing something, not quite a spiritual illness, but a craving that ripples in her aura. Zinyael feels a strange craving as well, watching the woman chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Something almost like the desire she felt for Clark and his goodness. Perhaps she should help Barbara...