Endgame (Book 2): Alekhine's Gun

by W. A. R.

  Damien

  His eyes widened and he turned to her as she reached into the cargo pocket on the side of her pants and retrieved the porcelain music box that she had given to Michael for him to bring here, just as she had her weapons and Zeus, who had run off earlier in the morning after Riley. She turned her eyes up to Rusty, who quickly swallowed and began twining the last cross once again. “Damien?”

  Amber nodded then, watching his hands as he twisted the twine around the wood. “Yes.”

  “But…why?” he asked as he finished, tying the twine off and handing her the last cross. The final cross. She wondered what he would think of all this mess, if he would understand why that name was on a cross. She shifted. Would Shelly understand? Would Kyle? Jackson? Well, of course Jackson would. Kyle too. Shelly…maybe.

  She sighed and set the music box to the side. She turned the cross upright and began shoving and twisting it into the soft dirt, thinking of what she wanted to say rather than thinking of whose cross she was planting. “Why not?”

  Silence, and then: “He did…unspeakable things.” And Rusty was right; the man had done things that had cost him, that had hurt him and the others around him. Still, she had her reasons.

  “I forgave him.”

  “You can’t just forget…”

  At this she turned a sweat covered face to him and stared him down, effectively silencing him. “I did not forget. I will never forget. But I did forgive him. And that man, whether you or anyone else realizes it yet or not, has saved many more lives than he has taken…just you wait and see…he has saved mine.” She told him, and Rusty studied her, shifting uneasily on his feet. It was true, there were things that they didn’t know, things that Damien had told her about Adrian that even his closest advisor didn’t know, things she would use to her advantage whenever it came to it. Things that would save so many innocent lives. He had known his fate and had expressed to her everything she needed to know, every minute detail she needed in order to get into that twisted mind of his. She still had the notebook in a bag in her room with the information. She sighed and knelt, bringing her knife up once again, her hand trembling. “His own father won’t offer him any condolences so…just…after all the good he had done…regardless of the bad…he should be recognized. You will understand soon enough.” She told him. She was postponing it, the knife quivering in her grip. She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to put his name on that wooden cross, and she bit her lip to stop the onslaught of emotions from overwhelming her. She had wanted to spend forever with him.

  “That’s good enough for me.” Rusty told her and she shifted on the balls of her feet when suddenly a small trill of a voice filled her ears and interrupting her inner turmoil.

  “Are you Amber?”

  Amber quickly stood and turned, gripping the knife in her hand so tightly that it hurt. Her heart raced and she searched for the voice, the voice of a child. Her vision swam, her face paling as she grasped for balance against the lightheadedness that seemed to envelope her. Rusty reached forward with a steady hand and gripped her shoulder, waiting patiently as her head stopped its spinning.

  “Finley, what are you doing out here?” Rusty asked, and Amber slowly lifted her eyes, her vision focusing on a small figure standing beside the building that guarded them from the rest of the town. She glanced up at Rusty who was watching the girl intently as she shifted on her feet and stared down at the ground. Zeus was wagging his tail from beside her before he came bounding up to Amber. Amber leaned down and pat his head lovingly.

  “I wanted to meet Amber.” She said and Amber shrugged off Rusty’s hold on her shoulder. He looked at her uncertain but dropped his hand to his side, not protesting.

  “Why did you want to meet me?” Amber asked and the little girl finally brought her hazel eyes up to hers. Amber’s heart ached at the sight of fear and excitement in their depths. Her small hands twisted fitfully at her waist.

  She shrugged. “Because…” she said and after a moment of silence Amber knew that she wasn’t going to answer her. Amber stepped forward and decided to try another tactic.

  “Where are your parents?” she asked and she little girl eased forward a little, uncertain.

  “Heaven. A monster got them.” The child informed Amber and she felt the tight band in her chest squeeze tighter. This small child had lost her parents. Amber lowered herself to her haunches as the small girl advanced forward, turning as the child stepped beside her. She kept her eyes trained on the child, turning from the building, from town.

  Amber cleared her throat. “Well, then…Hello Finley. My name is Amber.” Amber said and the girl smiled warmly at her. Amber returned her smile, feeling lightened at this interaction. She couldn’t explain why she did; maybe there was some kind of connection between the woman and the child. Amber clasped her hands in front of her, elbows on her knees. “And it is so very nice to meet you.” The girl smiled bigger. “You know, you are the very first person I have met here?”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “The very first?” she squeaked excitedly.

  Amber chuckled. “The very first.” She played with her fingernails for a moment, deep in thought. Wasn’t this innocence what gave her hope? Wasn’t Elliot’s innocence what spurred her on before, what gave her faith in humanity, in hope? And when she had lost it all, when there was no Miles to save her, no Shelly to build her up, there was a small child to remind her that there was something worth fighting for. Would Miles be proud? Her chest tightened and she missed him. It wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t long before she would cascade into despair at his loss but right then, that little girl needed hope, and Amber planned on giving it to her. What else could Amber leave behind whenever she finally did breathe her last? “That means that you are my very first friend here.”

  “Really?” she asked excitedly, suddenly bouncing on the toes of her bare feet. Amber chuckled again.

  “Yep.”

  The little girl then looked at the crosses in the dirt. “What are those for?” she asked and she was young enough not to know what those crosses stood for, but then again, there was probably no monument for her parents; their bodies rotting away into nothing under the hot afternoon sun daily. The thought disgusted Amber beyond words and she glanced over at the crosses, at Rusty who had slowly knelt beside her.

  “These are for me…to remember.” She paused, turning to look at the crosses as well. “They remind me of the friends I lost. Like your mom and dad.” Amber finally replied and the little girl looked uncomfortable. Amber cleared her throat and decided to continue, lifting a hand and pointing to the first marker. “That one there is for my best friend Shelly, that one for someone named Damien, and that last one is for…for my friend Miles.” Amber told her, doing her very best to keep a smile on her face. She couldn’t let this child see the anguish this caused her because right then she knew that Finley needed assurance that things were alright. She didn’t know how long ago her parents had died, or even if she had absolutely any family left but she knew that she was going to be a bright light for that girl, regardless of her own pain. She followed the girl’s gaze to the music box on the ground and grinned.

  “Rusty, hand me that music box.” Amber demanded gently and Rusty obediently handed her the bottom half of the music box. Amber held it in her hand, gingerly admiring it. Finley’s eyes widened and Zeus stationed himself beside Amber, sitting and panting, wagging his tail.

  “You like this?” Amber asked and the girl nodded. Of course she did.

  “It’s beautiful. What does it do?” she asked and Amber smiled.

  “It plays music.” A bigger smile. “Would you like to try it?”

  “Yes.” Finley replied, giving her a vigorous nod, her light hair flying wildly about her face. Amber turned the box in her hand, reveling in the feel of the cool porcelain against her fingertips.

  “Alright, here is the deal. Rusty here has been bugging me all day and I really need my quiet time so if I let you play this music o
ne good time, do you think you can convince Rusty to leave? Just for a few minutes?” Amber asked Finley and the little girl nodded excitedly before her smile dropped. Amber frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave in concern. It was as if the girl was scared to touch it.

  “It is…special. I don’t want to break it.”

  At this Amber couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, it was special…so very special…and she remembered how awkward he had been whenever he had given it to her. “Oh honey…listen. The man that gave this to me would want you to play the music, even if you did break it.” Which was so true that it hurt. She had forgotten about the unfinished cross, and the rest of the world. She wanted this child to find peace and she was absorbed in it. “Which you won’t do. I promise. Now, just twist it right here until it stops.” The girl reached up, feeling the cool metal between her fingertips as she twisted it. The clicking filled Amber’s ears and Amber turned her eyes up to look at the girl from under her long lashes. Finally, the music filled the air, the high-pitched melody. The girl smiled and her eyes lifted to Amber’s. Amber and Rusty chuckled when another voice cut through their simple enjoyment, bringing her back to reality.

  “Amber.” It was barely audible over the music, but she didn’t bother looking up. Instead, she sighed. Zeus took off, running towards the person that had spoken.

  “Riley, I am trying to get rid of your brother. Will I have to find a way to get rid of you too?” she asked, watching as Rusty nudged her and looked over her shoulder at the intruder. Suddenly his smile dropped and he slowly stood to his feet. The little girl then looked and grinned widely.

  “Michael!” she exclaimed before rushing away. Amber furrowed her eyebrow in confusion before excitement hit her. Her family was back! Then she tensed…her family was back. How was she going to explain everything?

  “I didn’t even hear the trucks pull in.” She told him without even bothering to glance over her shoulder. She couldn’t. She quickly pocketed the music box, turning to retrieve the top half, excited and anxious to get to them, to ensure their safety and yet wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontations at the same time. “Are they at the house?” She asked him, awaiting an answer. She would come back later to finish he crosses, whenever she was alone. Once she was convinced the music box was safe she turned to Michael, hearing Finley’s squeals of laughter but she froze. Her heart slammed against her chest like a wrecking ball and she stumbled back a bit. Her breathing became heavy and she felt like breaking down. Rusty stood awestruck, and Michael held an excited Finley in his arms, watching the interaction before him. But Miles…Miles stood there, his dark brown and gold eyes trained on her and his tan hand rubbing absently across his chest as if he were in physical pain. Zeus was jumping on him, and his other hand was petting Zeus, but his eyes never left her. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe, her body both numbingly cold and on fire. Her heart beat against her ribs so hard that it was painful and she gasped for air, bringing her hand to her chest. Her lip quivered and neither of them moved. Tears snuck their way down her face, and she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried. Was she dreaming or was this real? Had she officially lost her mind? She stumbled back once again, feeling his cross brush against the back of her legs.

  “Oh,” he began as if reading her mind, his words laced with emotion. “This is very real.” He licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I told you I would come back.”

  And then she said the one and only thing that came to her mind. “Miles?” she asked, her voice weak and quaking. He moved then, dropping his hand to his side as he advanced her. His steps were wide and determined, his eyes never leaving hers. Tears were on his face, in his eyes, and as he walked towards her she felt her own legs move of their own accord. She started walking, and then ran. She forgot about her pain, she forgot about her secrets and the overwhelming losses she was dealing with. And she ran. She ran, her mind rushing and her breathing painful, until her body collided with his and his arms wrapped tightly around her. The tears came in droves and she gripped at him, clutching at his shirt desperately. He moved his hands over her back, through her now short hair and he gripped her, squeezing her as if she were the very air he breathed. It was real, she cried into his neck, closing her eyes shut tightly and she held him, her feet leaving the ground. His dark brown hair, his broad shoulders and his tender arms; it was all so very real.

  “Amber.” He whispered roughly against her as he gripped her hair and she sobbed even harder. Her name was like a thankful prayer against her ear and she clutched at him tighter.

  “You…you were dead.” She cried against him, the sobs damn near choking her. It hurt; the relief and the surprise hurt her so damned much. It felt so good, the ecstasy making her momentarily delirious. She alternated between laughing and crying, stammering over her words. “They told me…”

  “I always come back for you. Always.” He told her and she cried harder. She couldn’t let him go. “And I brought Shelly with me…your niece or nephew intact.” She collapsed then completely, allowing him to support her, to hold her and embrace her as her body shuddered with the emotion.

  “I thought I lost you.” She cried into his neck and he pressed a chaste kiss to her ear as he held tight to her. He never wanted to let her go again.

  “I know. I know.”

  She choked on a sob. “I was so scared.” She admitted and he pressed his hand flat against her head, his fingers threading through her hair once again.

  “I was too.” He told her simply, feeling the salty taste of his tears on his lips. Her fingers gripped at his shirt, at the back of his neck, at his hair. She cried into him some more, releasing many emotions that she had kept locked away within herself. And they stood this way, reveling in the feel and the earthly realness that was one another until the doctor’s grandson came and told them that Shelly was ready.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brian felt the air leave his lungs as his body connected with the hard ground. He grunted reflexively, grimacing in disdain at the fact that whatever noise he emitted more than likely offered these hateful men satisfaction. He breathed heavily as he lay there, his eye swollen shut, his other eye squeezed tightly closed against the pain that ran rampant through his body. He wasn’t sure what hurt worse…the emotional devastation that had been given to him the day before or the physical blows that Justin seemed to take pleasure in giving him. He had somewhat asked for it, he knew, by taunting the sorry son of a bitch; the resistance getting worse once he learned of Amber and Shelly. He felt his heart break again. Shelly, gone. His Shelly, dead and not coming back to him. Justin claimed he had killed her, and judging by the fact that Amber had appeared just as devastated at learning that they weren’t there with him, he knew it had to be true. It wasn’t fair. They had all been good people for their lives, helping others and offering comfort or protection when needed so why? Why did his God see fit to offer this life to him, to take away the very things that kept him going? He knew that the answer was there somewhere, that somehow, in the bigger picture, things would make more sense, but the honest truth was that right then, in his anger and despair he couldn’t make any sense of it and every waking second it haunted him. He wanted to die. The love of his life was gone, his future gone and he was still there, alive, to be tormented until these people took his last breath from him.

  Still, even in his weakened state, he coughed and sputtered, spitting the dirt from his gritty mouth. The taste of it appalled him and he struggled to regain his composure, to lift up on his shoulder or to roll onto his back. One day he had endured the pushing and the shoving, not including what happened before the bridge. Since the altercation with Amber, however, his nemesis Justin seemed to be more concerned with him and was clearly far more agitated than before. A sudden swish was heard and he grimaced, preparing himself inevitably for the impending boot slamming against his ribcage.

  “You’d better be careful with him, Justin.” Brian heard one man wa
rn before the back of his collar was gripped and he was jerked upright on his knees. The smell of dirt and pine had assaulted his senses and he dared to open his one good eye. The light blinded him as the sun peeked through the trees. He closed his eye, opening it yet again, blinking furiously as his sight adjusted to the brightness of it all. His head ached. The man that had jerked him upright let him go with a rough swish and he swayed on his knees a little.

  “Or what?” he heard Justin vehemently from behind him. Brian swallowed, carefully tossing a glance sideways at all the other people that lay on the ground in the evening sun. They all either cried or whimpered, unlike him, who was more angry than anything else. Still, these children, women, and men were weakened and torn, guns pointed at the backs of their downturned heads. And yet, despite all of this, they were all staring at him, as if he were involved in some sort of spectacle. He had to question if there was something that he was missing. Justin smacked the back of his head sharply with his open palm, and hatred seethed, bubbling under the already fragile surface. He was going to kill the man for taking everything away from him. “What are you going to do about it?”

  The other man stepped forward into Brian’s eyesight menacingly, gun latched tightly in his grip. His eyes were angry and volatile, though somewhere under the surface he could sense the tell-tale signs of common sense. Two other men in ragged black and camouflage with guns held in their expert grips, watched on, uncertain and even nervous. They reminded Brian of soldiers and he questioned how someone, men he had once admired so for their dedication to their country got involved with a man who was hell-bent on destroying anything left of that nation they tried to protect.

  “I will make you treat him with some semblance of respect.” The man stated firmly, his eyes flashing and his determination evident.

  Justin scoffed and crossed his arms nervously, though with a bit of confidence. “Oh yeah? How?” he asked. The other man narrowed his eyes studiously at Justin. Brian couldn’t help but smirk.