The Escape
Page 12
“Destruction,” Keys sighed.
Remel nodded his head. He hadn’t really understood why Keys had said it but he saw the word’s relevance. They had destroyed each other, their own family and their home. Their tale was a mirror of the broken world of violence and misery that Remel used to inhabit.
“We have a lot to do,” Keys stated.
And they flew.
*****
Epilogue Chapter 1
(Twenty Years Later)
The demise of PC Connor.
The room was silent and void of light. The brick red floors were kept hidden by the blanket of dust that slept over it. Occasionally, the layer of dust was pierced by the drops of blood dripping from Juliana’s lip. She was tied to a chair by the ankles, waist and wrists. If she could move, she wouldn’t have hesitated to murder her captor regardless of her relationship with him. Her black eye only barely allowed her to see him as he entered into the room.
“Juliana, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve already explained to you that all of this pain is self-inflicted. You just need to help me so we can get through all of this… Where is he?” whispered PC Connor as he bent down to his daughter’s level and caressed her cheek as he spoke.
She mustered all of the phlegm in her throat and spat in her father’s face with scarlet red blood that encapsulated a fraction of the hatred she had in her. This was the ultimate act of disrespect. Damien Connor drew his hand back, ready to strike his daughter, but he paused an inch away from her face to show that he had restraint. He took a step back, wiped his face and began to stroll around the dark room which murmured tones of evil. He went through his plan over and over again like a psychotic perfectionist. Juliana was disgusted by the sight of him and wished only to make him suffer for everything he had done to her.
They both waited.
Juliana broke the patient silence that ensued with uncontrolled laughter. She stared at her father as she did so. He was proud of her bravery. She had definitely acquired it from him.
“You may think you know what you’re getting involved with, but everything you’ve done over all this time, everything you’ve tried to force me to be a part of and everything you’ve pretended to be is finished once my husband comes, Damien.”
PC Connor turned to his daughter and corrected her use of his first name. He was her father and not her friend. She corrected him by reminding him that fathers did not kidnap their daughters to find their enemies. He noted her point.
A gunshot-like sound was heard in the distance.
A knock came at the door of the room. This was him. Damien’s plan was now coming into fruition. Damien opened the door for his nemesis who was dressed in a long overcoat that stopped just above his knees with slim-fit, black trousers and a white buttoned shirt. The visitor’s face was decorated with an iron mask. PC Connor took a step back as he pulled his gun out of his pocket and aimed it for his nemesis’ face. The masked man darted around the room like a ninja in order to evade the line of fire of PC Connor’s gun. In the hope that he could luckily shoot his prey, Damien, the stone cold killer, shot aimlessly. A bullet flew towards Juliana. The gun, which had a silencer on the end, had let off its bullet without warning so Juliana had no time to react. The masked man pointed at the bullet, and it stopped in its tracks: he had telekinesis—the ability to move things with his mind. The masked man proved that he could also do so at supersonic speeds as he sent the bullet away from Juliana speedily, narrowly missing Damien’s face.
The masked visitor lunged at PC Connor as if he had just flown out of the barrel of a cannon. He landed heavily on the officer and started punching him in the face repeatedly whilst telling Juliana to run away. She thought to ask how she could do so whilst she was imprisoned by the ropes on her chair, but she felt him loosening the knots using his telekinesis. She managed to crawl slowly. The officer grabbed his assailant by the throat like two pigeons taking their food in vicious hunger. The masked man used his powers to loosen the officer’s grip and continued to pound him in the centre of his face. PC Connor left his blood all over his adversary’s fists. The masked man wished to continue his attack as he was consumed by an anger for everything he had done to his wife, but he was able stop himself.
Once PC Connor had realised that there was no hope for him to complete the two pivotal parts of his plan, which were unmask the masked man and kill him after doing so, he took a small blue pill out of his pocket, chewed it and died quickly. The masked man flew his wife, Juliana back home.
As they flew, Juliana looked down at her husband’s lips. Not only did she long to kiss them as soon as she arrived in the comfort of her home, but she also wished to know the long awaited story of the scar on his lip that she had been waiting to hear for the past 20 years.
Epilogue Chapter 2
Remel Brathwaite, the CEO of the multi-million pound Revolución software industries, is at home with his wife. Both of them are recovering from injury. The date is October 29th.
On the windowsill, in a cage, seemingly trapped by glass, yet free to escape through an open hatch in the top corner, lay a caterpillar in downward slumber, hidden within the confines of its cocoon. A vast array of flowers and plants sat on display around the room, creating an immersive showcase of colour and radiance. Rays of sun pierced through the living room, intruding the couple’s privacy as Juliana’s cheeks blushed a light fuschia under the touch of Remel’s soft kiss. She was sat next to him, watching a movie on television whilst the two of them thought deeply about what had just happened and its implications on the rest of their lives. It was a bittersweet victory that they attempted to relish in joyfully before considering the effects of.
Juliana stood up, kissed her husband on the lips and told him she was going to turn the kettle on. This was married life. Remel chuckled to himself and questioned when he had transformed into his current state. Reminiscing on his past as a lonely rebel not quite fuelled by anger but more so by curious waywardness, the millionaire sighed pensively. The doorbell rang. The sound of the ring was a high-pitched melody which resembled a syncopated and slowed down combination of traditional afro beat and jazz. Remel opened the door to the sight of a vicar dressed smartly in a black shirt, a clerical collar and a suit. The vicar looked at Remel with an expression of loss and nostalgia. In silence, the two men looked at each other for a couple of seconds. For them it felt like an eternity. However, in a sudden burst of realisation, Remel recognised the vicar and understood his expression of loss and nostalgia. Remel’s guest was Rasharn White. He was still chubby, slightly taller and visibly tired from age. Remel’s guest allowed his eyes to wander around the sight of the home: an open plan 8-bedroom house decorated with the most beautiful of bonsais, orchids and flowering money trees. From the outside, Remel’s home was a big yet simple display of bricks. It was only when the door was opened that its beauties could be shown.
“Can we go for a walk?” asked Rasharn, the vicar, breaking their silence.
Looking behind him and seeing that his wife was still in the kitchen, Remel left the house and closed the door behind him without saying anything. The two of them strolled casually in the busy town centre for several minutes before Rasharn began to speak. The silence was more necessary than awkward. Years of memories began to surge between them, making it difficult to begin the conversation.
“I gave my life to Christ around twenty years ago. It was just that day after my house burnt down… I realised that that life wasn’t for me. We were twisted individuals, ruining ourselves, sinning beyond remorse. I think you realised that early on. That’s why you are the way you are now and I went through everything I did. I feel like everything happens for a reason you know. But some things… we just can’t explain. I’ve been praying for answers from God. And he led me to you. Of course, it wasn’t easy finding your house but today I did it. I need to know… What was it exactly that happened on the day of that fight, Remel?”
Rasharn had no time for introductions. His hair, prematurely
grey and balding at the top, shouted of his desperation. Meanwhile, Remel looked just as old as he did on the day of his televised speech. As he stroked his chin and frowned his brows uneasily, Rasharn’s thoughts screamed of a longing to know the truth. Remel knew exactly the fight in question; that was when it all went wrong for Rasharn. However, for Remel, that day was like a point of salvation. He sighed, mirroring the cold winds of the deceptively bright autumn day. Remel had been going to church infrequently over the past few years, slowly undoing his years of mistrust in Christianity.
“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ You know that one right? Jeremiah 29:11. It’s funny because I don’t really believe in that nonsense. Things don’t happen for a reason. We aren’t robots, pre-programmed to make our life choices. Our futures are not planned for us. But me and you weren’t really made for that life that we used to live. We were made for this: the present day. It doesn’t really make sense but that day of the fight, before we all went home casually as if nothing too serious had happened, we were offered an alternative, a new opportunity, an…” Remel’s voice trailed off as he lost himself in an ocean of thoughts.
“An escape?” offered Rasharn, also in deep thought, growing satisfied by Remel’s vague revelation.
Remel nodded his head silently. The two continued to speak about trivial things. It was a reunion. Once they had finished, Rasharn shook Remel’s hand firmly, offering him words of blessing. Remel politely acknowledged Rasharn’s words and left him at the bus stop before flying home to Juliana. He arrived to his door and opened it to see his wife stood before him, grateful to see him return.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Just an old friend,” replied Remel, taking his seat back in front of the movie which had been paused for him.
Juliana presented him a small assortment of snacks that she gathered from the kitchen next to two cups of tea. She sat next to him. A light blue butterfly flew towards the couple from nowhere. Remel, the intuitive, turned his head to the windowsill and looked at the empty glass cage. The caterpillar had freed itself from his glass cage and spread its wings. Juliana followed what Remel was looking at and they both smiled peacefully.