[ WP ] A soldier in the heat of battle suddenly hears a voice that says `` I am your child 's imaginary friend . They have sent me to protect you in your greatest time of need . ''

I found myself backed up against the wall of the sewer, the Z ’ s closing in on me, slowly by their definition, hungry by their ambition, the moaning so deep and morbid I had to non-literally swallow my angst. I clicked my machine gun, but it was dead, jammed with sewer water. It was an older one, from back when guns didn ’ t work after getting soaked. 
 
 I reached for my sword and unsheathed it, my reflection flashing by my field of view, reminding me of why we were still in this stupid freaking war. My wife, Eris May, was still back home in Iron Cove, that American colony by the ocean on Mars. I had a little girl, too. Alex was her name. I ’ ll tell ya, she was the most amazing angel God ever sent the human race. I remember her swinging in her swing set I ’ d built for her out of silverwood; we ’ d push her back and forth as she watched the birds in the beautiful green sky of the Red Planet. 
 
 I was never going to see her again. 
 
 The Z ’ s were getting closer. I assumed the stance one assumes when attempting to fight off hordes of the undead with an ancient Aztec sword, that is, a stance showing that I was in acknowledgement of my inevitable dismissal from time and space. I closed my eyes. 
 
 May and I had saved this stupid world so many times. We ’ d helped bring down North Korea. We blew a Neo-Soviet war satellite out of the clear blue sky. We ’ d found Cibola, and a Phoenix, and the freaking Holy Grail. 
 
 And now I was going to die. Alone. Away from Eris May and from Alex and my sister and my nephew Lincoln and everyone and everything else I loved. I tightened my hold on my sword. 
 
 A great man once said that the Universe is big and amazing and absolutely crazy, and that sometimes, one day in a thousand thousand centuries, impossible things just happen. And we call them miracles. And, I suppose, this was one of those days. 
 
 A young woman suddenly appeared next to me using a vortex manipulator ( one of those quick-and-dirty time and space travel devices you wear on your wrist ). I knew her. I was sure of it. And I wasn ’ t. And then she spoke and I remembered exactly who she was. 
 
 “ Well don ’ t just stand there, dummy! ” She motioned to the manipulator on her wrist facing me. “ Hold on! ” I re-sheathed my blade and grabbed onto the device. 
 
 “ See ya ‘ round, [ flip ] ers! ” she shouted to the Z ’ s as we dematerialized and reappeared on a warship circling the broken Earth. 
 
 “ Y—You ’ re— ” I stuttered at the girl once my gut was certain we were safe. 
 
 “ Yup. Alex sent me. ” 
 
 “ BUT YOU ’ RE NOT REAL! ” I said, overwhelmed. 
 
 “ We ’ ve met before, you know, ” she said, walking over to a control table, sitting in a desk chair and beginning to spin around. 
 
 This was Akara, my daughter ’ s imaginary friend. I knew because Alex would always draw her just like that. Where Alex was metaphorically an angel, Akara was actually one. Like, a human being with wings and a halo and a wreath in her hair. Alex said she was the guardian of the wind. I ’ d never taken it seriously, obviously. Until now. 
 
 “ How could I have met you before? You are her invisible friend! ” 
 
 “ And I was yours, too, Colby. Your guardian angel. Oh, the times we had, Davidson. ” She flipped some switches on the desk and spun back around to me. “ The times we had… Before you stopped believing in me. ”
