Farewell from Paradise

by Saltzman, Brent

  Robotic angels, several bots with blue flashing lights, emerged from the neighboring wreckage and immediately attacked the red bots. The leader of the troupe—Szyslak—was sporting a magnetic bowtie, apron, and war paint smeared over its eye. “We will protect you, citizen!” Darwin got involved in the clash and reduced a few of the red bots to mere piles of bolts. Sam managed to kick one in the eye, shattering the glass and sending it hovering away. Within minutes, all the red bots lay broken and mangled on the snowy floor of the concourse with but a few blue bot casualties.

  “We showed them what for!” Darwin cheered. “Come on, lad! Let’s go get your lassie!”

  “Please be advised,” came the Overseer.

  “Of what?”

  A beastly growl from above. A bellow that sent chills down the spine of any man. A winged shadow that overtook the court.

  “Oh…nothing…”

  Diakrino dropped from the atrium’s roof and landed on the floor with a mighty thump, crushing several fleeing blue bots beneath his massive paws. The dragon snarled and gritted its teeth as it lurked forward, paying no attention to the tiny bots picking away at its armored skin with their puny drills, brushing them off like pesky insects.

  “We should probably think about runnin’ now, Sam…”

  “Good idea.”

  They turned and darted to a hall as Diakrino lunged. They made it into the corridor just in time, as the dragon shoved its head inside only to be thwarted by its own gigantic body. It snapped its jaws as Darwin and Sam made their escape, coming to a glass tunnel connected to another building that crossed over the street.

  The Overseer said, “Cross here. Then descend. On the other. Side.”

  “You heard him!”

  They ran across the sky bridge, only to see Diakrino’s angry form flying toward them like a missile.

  “Run faster, lad!”

  “Oh, you think?!”

  The dragon crashed into the middle of the structure, tearing out a section and causing its collapse. Darwin and Sam leapt into the air just as the tunnel fell to the ground, shattering and throwing up a cloud of snow. They climbed into the adjacent corridor right as Diakrino took another swoop with its open mouth, again failing to catch his prey.

  “You are. Almost there. Sam Pierce,” said the Overseer.

  They slid down a broken escalator and Darwin cracked his bat into some unfortunate red Sentries as they made their way back outside.

  And there, before them, was the great fortress, composed of dozens of metal cylinders and terraces.

  “It’s a lot bigger up close than it is from far away…” Sam said.

  “Psh…it ain’t nothing you can’t climb…but not sure how we get to it.”

  The canyon that surrounded the keep was at least fifty feet wide. Below was just an infinite blackness.

  “How do we get across?”

  “Hmm…I’m sure we’ll think of somethin’ good.”

  Another roar. Diakrino was heading straight for them. And they were trapped. Nowhere to go. Darwin prepped his club, slinging it over his shoulder like a baseball player readying for a fastball.

  Then, there was another rumble.

  Deeper.

  From somewhere underground.

  And in that moment, the street cracked and burst, and from within the newfound cavity emerged another enormous beast: Abbot.

  “Would ya look at that!”

  The sea dragon—or ground dragon…or whatever it was—reached into the sky and plucked a surprised Diakrino right out of it, then pulled his flailing body down into the pit and out of view. The violent wails and screeches of the battle between tooth and claw echoed up through the well, shaking the city.

  “I just got an idea for getting across, lad!” Darwin said. “Just try not to scream!”

  “Wait, are you—”

  The giant dropped his club, picked up Sam and hurled him over the rift. He flapped his arms and legs in the wind as he watched the world below whiz by, his speaker slipping from his ear and vanishing into the abyss, before landing with a hard thwack on the other side. “Good toss!” he coughed as he got up and brushed himself off. “I didn’t scream this time.”

  “Go get her, boy! And get back to your home!” Darwin shouted across the gorge.

  “What about you?”

  “Me?” He smiled and lifted his club. “I’m gonna do what I do best, mate.” He turned toward the pit, where the cries of the two warring creatures raged on with furious tenacity, and jumped in. “Save me a piece of ‘im, Abbot!” Sam heard him shout, his voice fading.

  “Thank you,” Sam whispered to the air as the sun started to set on Paradiso, dipping below the skyline in the distance. It was strangely beautiful, this world he had created. And as he sat on the doorstep to the end of his quest, his only wish was that he had a little more time to appreciate it.

  But he had something more important to do.

  With fresh energy, he turned and dashed into the forest of columns.

  “It is essentially an induced heart attack,” the doctor said as nurses prepped Sam’s chest, padding it with gauze and rearranging electrodes. He awkwardly gulped as he addressed the family. “We ask that you wait outside during the procedure.”

  “You want me to be outside while you hurt my baby?” Bev gasped.

  “We can’t risk any interference…or emotions…getting in the way…I am sorry. You can speak to him if you like…last words, just in case.”

  “No need,” John Pierce said as he gently took Bev by the shoulder. “Because he’s going to be just fine.”

  The doctor nodded.

  A nurse escorted the family out into the hall, where they’d watch from behind glass.

  All except Delaney.

  “Ma’am, we need you to leave now.”

  She didn’t. She was in a different world. Picturing a different future. One she so desperately wanted. One that was always beyond her grasp.

  “Ma’am, please.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.”

  And she stepped out and joined the four Pierces as they watched the doctor prep a syringe of straw-colored fluid, then promptly plunge it into Sam’s chest.

  “Ow!” Sam felt a prick near his heart. A quick, sharp pain. “What the hell was that?” He looked around. “And where the hell am I?” He had become lost in the forest of columns, which had become so dense that the only light came from above.

  “You have to climb, Sam,” said the Mysterious Figure as he emerged from the darkness in a black suit and black shirt and silver tie.

  “Glad to see you toned down your attire.”

  “Figured this was a special occasion.”

  “Watching me get lost?”

  “No. Watching you find your way.” He pointed to the sky.

  “Up? You mean climb up?”

  He casually slipped his hands into his pockets. “I did just say that a second ago.”

  “Okay…” Sam approached a column and craned his neck to the sky. Above, he could see a terrace. “And that will lead me to Delaney?”

  “Yes. Yes it will.”

  “Thanks for a definitive answer for once.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He shrugged. “But you have to climb. And it won’t be easy.”

  Sam felt for handholds. There were plenty, all in the form of jutting metal beams. But they were slippery in the cold, damp air. And some were jiggling and loose. “Doesn’t look too safe…”

  “Well, you’ve seen what ‘safe’ has gotten you your entire life. Maybe it’s time to try something else?”

  “I guess.”

  “No Sam. Don’t guess. Don’t question. Don’t doubt.”

  He almost seemed angry. The words lingered. Sam nodded, then put his hand on the first piece of metal, lifted himself off the ground, and started climbing.

  “Never take your eyes off the top, Sam,” the Figure said. “Never lose sight of the goal. Don’t get lost.”

  He didn’t. He climbed. And climbed. An
d climbed. A hundred feet above, he could see a thick bundle of torn wires dangling from the lip of the terrace that would lead him to the top. That was the goal. His hand slipped more than once, but he always managed to catch it. A foothold gave at one point and he plummeted several yards before grabbing a beam and working his way back up. The Figure was right. It was a difficult climb. But it was one he was determined to make.

  As the alternative did not offer much reprieve.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep—

  “This is it!” the doctor shouted as Sam’s body convulsed on the hospital bed. A few nurses worked to hold him down as his muscles flexed.

  Outside, Bev made a break for the door, but John held her back. Logan buried his head in his mother’s coat, unable to watch. And Delaney just stared.

  And hoped.

  And prayed.

  He kept feeling bursts of energy. Whenever he thought he was done, a surge of electricity would run through his body and he’d find the strength to reach for another handhold. As instructed, he never took his eyes off the prize. And within minutes, he was there. Extending his hand, he stretched with everything he had toward the end of a thick black cable. His fingers felt the rubber, he pushed off with his feet, and—

  Then, he made a mistake.

  He looked down.

  And his hand slipped.

  He lost his balance. His body tumbled. And the next thing he knew he was falling, falling, falling…the edge of the terrace shrinking, shrinking, shrinking, until—

  Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppppppppppppppppp.

  The heart monitor flatlined. Sam collapsed back onto the bed.

  “Need some help here! We’re losing him!” the doctor shouted.

  A nurse immediately attached electrodes to his chest and charged a cardioverter.

  Delaney’s palm struck the glass. She screamed: “Saaaaammmmm!!!!!”

  But it didn’t seem to be of much use.

  32

  The Woman on the Platform

  Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The train sped along the mountain as Sam read his newspaper, a cup of coffee on his tray and the beautiful city of Pittsburgh silhouetted in the distance beyond the rain-streaked window. He was alone. His own private car. That’s how he liked it. His finely pressed gray suit with white shirt and navy tie gave the impression of solidarity and confidence, and he had always been of the belief that emphasizing his nature as a loner helped harden that public perception. It made him intimidating. It made him profitable.

  Or maybe that was all just an illusion.

  He often wondered if he truly liked to be alone, or if it was just what came naturally and he had grown to accept it. “We don’t get to choose who we are,” a publisher who had rejected his prized novel once told him. “We simply are who we are.” And so he gave in. His goals, his dreams, they were all just superfluous fluff if fate had other plans. Pursuit of the impossible is, by definition, futile. And once he had finally realized that, he suddenly found himself successful. Was he happy? That wasn’t important. Happiness didn’t matter to anyone in this world, not anymore. It was all about numbers. Best house. Best job. Most money. Best cell phone. Being at the top of the social order had become the utmost goal of humanity. Nothing else was relevant.

  Happiness had been replaced by status.

  Everything else was a waste of time.

  He loved someone once. Someone very special. Someone he saw a life with, a potentiality that would never come to fruition. It killed him at first. But then he learned: it just wasn’t meant to be. No one is in control of their own destiny. The idea that it was a matter of choice—not chance—was but a great lie meant to fan the flames of the less fortunate’s expectations before reality extinguished the fire later in life.

  And as soon as Sam accepted that, he could move on.

  Happy? No. Successful? Yes.

  A cold life was far better than none at all.

  There was a soft ding, then a voice over the PA system: “Next stop, Liberty Avenue.”

  “Is it possible we can skip it and go straight to Cleveland? My meeting’s in,” he looked at his Rolex, with which he replaced an old broken watch he’d worn for years prior, “two hours.”

  “No can do, Mr. Pierce. We can make the stop quick, though.”

  “Fine.” Sam sighed and turned back to his newspaper. “Whatever.”

  The train passed over a river and into the downtown area of the city, pulling into Union Station, which rested near the foot of the US Steel Tower, a black monolith a thousand feet tall that looked like a giant vault with an exterior made up of pipes and grates. It came to a stop at a packed platform and Sam watched with relative pity as commuters desperately squeezed into the public cars like scavengers frantically reaching for the last bits of a carcass’s rotten flesh.

  He scoffed at the crowd. Scanned them with his eyes. He liked to catch glimpses of the man he once was. It made him feel better about this throne in the game of life.

  But on this day, he found something else.

  She was tall and solid, curvy. With brown hair tied up in a bun and two locks framing her face, brushing against her round cheeks. She wasn’t moving like the others. She was just standing there, looking aimlessly around, lost.

  There was a ping. The train started moving again.

  “Wait, stop!” Sam ordered.

  “No can do, Mr. Pierce. You said you wanted to get moving along, so we are.”

  “But there’s a girl out there!”

  “There are lots of them out there, Mr. Pierce. You’ll come across another one.”

  People started to pass by as the car moved along the platform.

  “No!” He pressed his palm to the window. “No!”

  She looked up. Their eyes met. She opened her mouth to—

  “Saaaammmm! Saaaammmmmm!”

  A disembodied voice rang through his ears. He felt cold. Freezing. But he wasn’t shivering. Wasn’t moving. He opened his eyes. He heard someone calling his name. It was coming from high above. Beyond the lip of the terrace to Diakrino’s fortress. He felt tremendous pain, his body sprawled on the ground. It shot through him like lightning. He didn’t want to move. It hurt to breathe.

  Footsteps crunched in the snow.

  “Wake up, Sam.”

  His groans of pain were barely whispers. Crispy flakes of ice speckled his hair. Freezing blood dripped from his nose. He could make out the blurry form of the Mysterious Figure standing over him.

  “You have to wake up.”

  “I can’t…” he wheezed.

  “You have to keep climbing, Sam.”

  “It’s too hard…Every step leads to a fall…”

  The Figure got down on his haunches. He gently rubbed Sam’s head. “It’s a shame your grandmother never lived to see you grow up. She would’ve been so proud.”

  A sudden thought. A distant memory. From long, long ago. When his life was fresh.

  “I think the only thing that would’ve made her happier than the day we finally adopted your mother would’ve been reading your stories. Because then she’d know that she did a good job.”

  A ticking watch. Tick. Tick. Tick. Given to Sam on his eighteenth birthday. And a badge. Coated in gold. His grandfather’s two most prized possessions.

  “I always loved you, Sam. So, so much.”

  Snow fell harder. But the old man’s words stayed soft, fatherly.

  “And I never doubted the man you’d turn into.” He wiped away a tear. “I always believed in you, Sam. So please…”

  Sam started to feel something. A strength. The gradually surging impulse to keep climbing.

  “…I need you to believe in you, too.”

  Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—

  Beep. Beep…

  “Something’s happening…” The doctor looked at the monitor, stunned. He waved off the nurse with the electrodes. “Let it go, let’s see what he does.”

  Delaney couldn’t t
ake it anymore. She rushed into the room, pushed past a nurse and grabbed Sam by the arm. “Sam! Listen to me, Sam! Come back to me! Come back to me right now!”

  “Come back to me, Sam!”

  Del’s voice echoed down the pit as Sam stood without sweeping off the snow.

  “Climb, Sam,” ordered the Mysterious Figure. “And don’t you dare look back.”

  He nodded. Then, with a deep breath, he grabbed a metal ledge and started working his way up.

  “Sam!” he heard. It grew louder as he made his ascent. His hands constantly slipped. He frequently stumbled over loose pipes before narrowly catching himself. Snow battered his face, swirling in a windy vortex that aggressively made its way around the well. But he never stopped climbing. Never looked back. His heart thumped. He took deep breaths. But never did he experience the urge to look down. Not as long as his name was being called from above. Not as long as he had a goal. He fought, and fought, and fought, until he was finally almost within reach of the cable.

  And he stopped.

  “Don’t look back, Sam…” the Mysterious Figure whispered. “Keep climbing.”

  He bent his knees. Closed his eyes. And leapt.

  And he reached, and he reached, and he reached…

  …only to have his right hand slip, his fingers failing to clasp around the cable.

  But he was saved by his left, swinging his other arm around, grabbing the black rubber, and perilously dangling over the void. Then, with a surge of strength, he seized another cable with his right and climbed, climbed, climbed, until he was finally able to pull himself over the lip of the terrace.

  33

  The End of Life’s Road

  An arched door as tall as a three-story building served as the entrance to Diakrino’s fortress. Sam stood before the massive structure in awe, trying to figure out his way inside. Surrounded by blustery cold, he started to have those feelings again, those hints of doubt that pinged at his mind that almost always evolved into regrets—not for the things done, but for the things not attempted.