“I know,” he whispered, hugging her close, “I know.” He passed his hopeless gaze over the night sky again. For once, he had no sarcasm, no bitter humor to express. Nothing but despair filled his thoughts.
******
Desmond, for some reason, was fascinated by the stillness of Quinton as he stood by the window. Which was why, a minute or two after the outside lights dimmed and flickered briefly, when Quinton moved suddenly, as though he had seen something important, Desmond noticed it.
He had quickly crossed through the room to the window and looked out. “What is it?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”
Quinton didn’t bother turning towards him; his head remained ducked down and his eyes gazed upward, “Look up.” He growled. “The sky is gone.”
******
“Oh shit,” summed up most of Isaac’s reaction. Sergei, who had very nearly fallen asleep again, started awake and looked towards him.
“What is the matter?” Sergei inquired.
Isaac stared out the window, slowly shaking his head, “Someone must have screwed something up big time, because the night sky just vanished.”
Sergei sat upright, causing a flare of pain to stab through his wound, “What?” he asked, wincing.
Isaac turned towards him, “You heard me. The stars, the moon; it’s all gone.”
With a light crackling, speakers and intercoms in the library came to life, playing a pre-recorded message. Everyone in the room remained quiet and wide-eyed at the content. “Son of a bitch,” Isaac whispered as the message began to repeat itself.
Sergei wore a heavy scowl, his teeth clenched. “Looks like we are not quite finished with this after all, my friend.”
“No, I guess not.” Isaac gave a thin, humorless smile, more like a grimace. He felt his anger start to boil. He returned his gaze towards the outside, still shaking his head. This city is going to get torn to shreds, he thought.
******
Elijah was unsurprised that the lights did not return after he shot Lange, causing a slightly too quick, but not unsatisfying, death for the old man. He was also unsurprised when there was a hiss and a whir near the entrance, shortly followed by a popping of his ears as the chamber sealed airtight.
This is his tomb. He really never intended to leave, Elijah thought bitterly, smirking. He never intended to die either, did he now?
Elijah sighed loudly, unheard by anyone. If the place was indeed airtight, he probably did not have long before he ran out of anything to breathe. Not that it mattered, his left arm tingled with a ferocity and his heart, in spite of a lack of further activity, continued to pound away, irregular and radiating slivers of pain. His breathing was shallow, and a cold sweat coated his body.
He sat down, in the pitch black, on the tile next to the prone form of Victor, feeling around to find his friend. They would now share this small mausoleum with the tyrant of several generations. Elijah smiled. Lange would have been furious to know that his final resting place was soon to be sullied by the bodies of his bastard son and the traitor guard. This alone gave Elijah a measure of satisfaction.
“Anything to make the old man suffer, right?” He asked to no one, responding to himself with, “Anything…”
He let out another heavy sigh, thinking about all of the people who he had sacrificed so that he could come this far. “I’m sorry, everyone.” He whispered.
His head felt light, dizzy. Stars and lights danced across his eyes, and he smiled, hallucinating. The night is so beautiful, he thought, as his consciousness faded away.
Haven Page 44