Suddenly, the vortex shudders. At the point where the funnel plunges into the bay, the winds falter and the waves ease. Section by meandering section, the body of the vortex vanishes into mist.
Gemini, disturbed by the change in the world he created, is struck with an uncharacteristic twinge of anger. Trying to disrupt his brother’s concentration, Gemini hurls enormous balls of flame at him.
Sensing the danger, the goateed man stops, and he disperses the flames. With his attention diverted, the countering winds he made start to wane. So, now, he turns to Gemini with wrath in his lungs and fire in his eyes.
The brothers glare at each other, enraged and vexed by the stalemate.
The tremendous storm cloud above starts to churn once again, and the funnel cloud regenerates and forms.
Then driven by pure fury, both brothers hurl at each other weapons generated from all destructive elements of the earth, sun, and heavens. They chase each other through the clouds and rain. For a long time, they strike and defend.
However, no one gains the upper hand; the two are closely matched and are effectively nullified.
Later, facing each other, they find themselves once again at the base of the waterspout.
Gemini, seeing his brother’s rage reach a precise and heightened level, returns to his plan. Knowing that his brother’s agitated state will prevent him from thinking clearly, Gemini shifts tactics to one he has been withholding, to one that will definitively set the tragic scene for his question to be answered. While over the bay, he generates far away from him, in the inland skies, six massive, blazing fireballs, each electrified and crackling with lightning. In quick succession, he propels them towards his brother, intending to divert his brother’s attention.
The goateed man turns to face them. As he protects himself from the first five, he simultaneously catapults similar weapons at Gemini.
Gemini escapes them, as he quickly flies further out over the ocean. Now behind his brother, he suddenly launches himself like a projectile.
His brother, protecting himself from the oncoming sixth danger that comes from the over the land, does not realize Gemini’s rapid approach behind him, from over the water.
In mid-flight, Gemini turns his body around, in order to strike feet first. As he stretches his arms out wide, his black coat flares out around him, swept back by the swift wind. His form is that of a bird of prey, with wings instinctively positioned an instant before it strikes.
As the goateed man deflects the sixth fireball, Gemini slams his feet into the back of his head. The head snaps forward with violent force, and the brain within deforms as it crashes into the skull.
Losing all control of his body, Gemini’s brother tumbles down, down into the raging waters around the base of the waterspout. He crashes into the waves and disappears. A moment later, his body floats up to the surface. Then, the currents begin to move him in and draw him in closer into the spinning vortex. His body is almost completely motionless, and only his arms feebly struggle to keep his head just above the surface. With his senses severely damaged, his eyes fight to keep himself conscious.
This is the moment in which Gemini’s question will receive an answer.
Gemini deconstructs his turbulent scene.
The wind halts. The rain eases. The vortex wanes and disappears. The waters once again close in and overcome Paige. Seconds later, the circular churn of the water gently begins to dissipate.
Facing up and almost lifeless, Paige rises from its depths. As she reaches the surface, most of her body remains hidden underneath. Being closer toward the center of the swirling waters than the goateed man, her body soon catches up to him.
In his daze, the darker haired brother sees Paige drift closer, at an arm’s length away. With his brain soon to succumb to the jarring shock delivered to it, he knows he has little time before he completely loses consciousness and sinks into the cold, dark waters. Feebly, he tries to call her, “Paige.”
Her face is tilted in his direction, but from it, she gives no response.
Realizing he needs to wake her, he calls out with as much effort he can muster, but it is only louder than a whisper, “Come back, Paige. Come back. Wake up.”
As the waves lap in his ears, he feels himself sinking. With all his might, his feet kick and his left hand sweeps around and stretches out for hers. Reaching under the water, he grasps her forearm. At that moment, the symbol tattooed on her wrist, and the God-given name burned into his wrist, touch and intersect. As a faint flash of light quickly appears, and then vanishes, the intersecting symbols cause the goateed man to see a detailed vision that only lasts a split second.
Gemini knows nothing of it.
Coming to her senses for a brief moment, Paige opens her eyes. In a sigh, she calls his name. But the sound from her lips is as a muffled droning word, and then quickly she loses consciousness.
Positioning himself, Gemini uses his chest like a powerful cannon and generates from it one final, decisive weapon: a dense mass of spinning iron, wrapped in flames, and alive with bursting energy. Spreading his arms out wide, he powerfully lunges his body forward and launches the object directly at his brother.
Training his thoughts on Paige, the goateed man finds that his mind is now somehow able to sense her. With his sight slowly beginning to fade, he realizes that with his rapidly diminishing strength, he can either save himself or save Paige and cannot do both. Gazing up, he sees his final fate swiftly approaching, and behind it is Gemini’s face.
At that moment, Gemini speaks to him hurriedly and anxiously through his streaming thoughts, saying, “This is it, brother. The question I need answered, answered by raw spirit and raw action: When everything is stripped away from you, who are you then, and what is your true essence? After your withdrawal from the world for the last five years, after all the people in need you’ve dismissed in disgust, after you’ve consciously refused to help and instead just passed them by, show me now who you are deep within, brother! Who are you?!”
With very little strength left in his body and with very little will left in his soul, the goateed man realizes it: Gemini has orchestrated this whole scene, weakening him to a point where he has to choose between his own life and the life of another. But why Gemini is doing it, he does not know. Defiant but restrained by his weakness, he does not want to give Gemini an answer. However, he knows what he is about to do will disclose it nonetheless.
With his senses dulling quickly, he must act, and as he does, in his thoughts he appeals with profound sincerity to his God, in his last moments, Lord, erase your old memories of me…because this is who I am. See me for what I now do.
Then, revealing his true essence, his actions speak his answer. Without hesitation, he sacrifices himself to have Paige disappear to a safer place.
Now, with all his strength drained, he remains as the sole target of the massive, electrified, blazing metal.
Is this where it ends? the man asks himself. These years without my family…should I have died with them? Becoming what I truly am…is it now worth nothing?” Closing his eyes, he answers, The truth is worth the pain.
Just before the object strikes him, his mind submits to the prowess of his brother, and his body painfully concedes defeat. As his failing senses recede into oblivion, he fades away and sinks below the surface. With a final thought, he descends into death, If this is where it ends, then let it end.
Relentless and unstoppable, Gemini’s decisive weapon then collides, with tremendous power, into the waters directly above his brother, generating a sound like raging thunder. As the steam it creates boils and sizzles up to the surface, the black depths engulf it with hissing finality.
* * * * * * *
Within the empty warehouse, Gemini pulls his hood down and stands beside Sik.
Sik is sitting on the ground, healed, and the deep tear in his scalp is closed over, with the blood cleared away.
Gemini is the one who moved both Sik and Paige from one place to the next, in
order to ultimately lead his brother to his tempestuous scene over the bay. Now, Gemini instructs Sik calmly and quietly, “You’ll find the girl in the motel room. I’ll send you there. Watch over her until its time.”
After the goateed man removed Paige out of the swirling waters of the bay, Gemini found her and took her.
Slowly nodding, Sik props himself up from the floor. With his eyes focused down on the concrete, he remains silent, but his soul is in anguish.
Later that evening, Sik’s dark form closes and locks the door to a room of an old two-story motel in San Diego’s Pacific Beach community, near the Pacific Ocean. He paces away from his ground-level room and directs his steps to the gray concrete walkway. To his side is the small parking lot, with only a couple of cars parked straddling several stalls. The white sand and dust that sprinkled over the lot, from the day before, is washed away with the constant rain.
After a few more strides, Sik passes the faded light blue walls and front door of the next room. Walking further, he passes another then another. Finally, he reaches the street and makes a turn on the road.
His soul is in conflict more than ever before. With Paige in the motel room, she is a constant reminder of the wrongs he has been doing. All of it runs against his upbringing and his father’s vigilant and careful teaching.
But he needs to do it.
Vengeance requires it.
The role in life he burdens is one he has angrily snatched, in order to permit him to stray from his mores. It is a role he wants to carry to define himself, until his vengeance is satiated, until the end.
But the conflict in his mind weakens him, straining his emotions and draining his resolve.
Just let me get away for a minute, he says to himself. I just gotta blow off some steam.
Before crossing the street, he pulls down tightly on the black baseball cap on his head. As he zips up his jacket and pulls up the collar, he hears raindrops ping against its black leather. Reaching the other side of the street, he hops up on the sidewalk and strides a few more blocks, down the empty streets of the long-established beach community. Eventually, he hits Cass Street, and there, he finds a pool hall and beer joint. Securing down his baseball cap once more, he walks in.
Inside, Sik sees a half-empty room of booths, barstools, and pool tables. He walks to one side, takes a barstool, and then orders a pint of beer. A few minutes later, he finishes it and asks for a second.
The tall, bald, and heavyset bartender gives him a casual grin through his goatee and sets the beer down in front of him.
Soon, Sik drinks it down and asks for a third.
With the third mug now in his hand, he stands and walks to the open pool table, a couple steps away.
Playing pool will be his escape for the next few hours.
Underneath the long, fluorescent lights above the table, he sets down the mug on a low shelf on the wall, and he digs in his pockets for some coins. Not finding any, he takes out a bill from his wallet, turns around, and asks the bartender, “Hey, could ya give me some quarters for this, please?”
The bartender takes the bill and heads for the cash register. Momentarily, he returns to Sik and hands him the quarters, saying, “Here ya go, man. Knock yourself out.”
Sik inserts some of his quarters into the pool table’s coin feeder, and then the balls release.
The bartender, as he dries some beer mugs with a cloth towel, casually glances up and watches Sik, as he sets up the pool table.
After positioning the white cue ball, Sik grabs a stick and chalks it. Then, leaning forward, he takes aim. Quietly, he says, “Time to tune out.” Then, he starts his set with the crack of the stick against the cue ball.
He begins to clear the table, striking each ball with precision.
Soon, he asks for another beer and starts another game.
The evening goes on and Sik loses count of both the number of beers he has drunk and the number of racks he has played.
The late night draws in more people into the bar, and soon, Sik starts a friendly game with three other people.
He keeps his black baseball cap on and merely unzips his jacket.
Sik amazes the three of them with his talent. Regularly, in each game, they shout and whoop in praise, giving him high-fives for his unbelievable control of the table.
Hearing the shouts, the bartender stands back and watches. Astounded by Sik’s pool-playing, he grins and shakes his head in disbelief.
Just before two o’clock a.m., Sik calls it a night and waves good-bye to the bartender and his companions at the pool table.
As Sik reaches the door, the bartender asks, “Hey, you gonna be alright? You’re not drivin’ are ya? You took in a lot of fuel tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Sik assures, as he turns to face the bartender. While zipping up his jacket, he reveals, “I’m just stayin’ around here.” Absentmindedly or maybe from the at-ease feeling created by both the beer and the enjoyment from playing pool, he takes off his baseball cap and rubs the dusty-blond, cropped hair of his head. Afterwards, he put the cap back on and pulls it down just above his eyes. He nods at the bartender and turns to face the door.
The bartender takes notice of his patron’s hair and face. Hiding his concern, he says, “Cool. Good night, man.”
Sik lets the door close behind him and pulls up his jacket’s collar. Turning, he begins up Cass Street, back to the motel.
After Sik takes a few steps, a black and white police car pulls up in front of the entrance to the pool hall. Quickly, the placid easiness departs from him. His body becomes tense. He lowers his head, slides his hands in his pant pockets, and raises his shoulders to hide his face. Above the sound of the falling rain, he hears the doors of the squad car open, and then close, as two policemen walk out.
Keeping his head down, he tries to calm himself and walks at a casual pace.
Suddenly, he hears a voice calling out, “Hey!”
He knows it’s one of the policemen.
Raindrops strike down on the bill of his cap.
Sik doesn’t turn. But his eyes scan up and down the street, left and right, searching for dark alleys or streets he can dash into. His heart begins to pound.
Again, the policeman calls out, “Hey. Hey!”
Finding an alley, Sik readies himself to run. His hand goes up to pull down his cap once again. Simultaneously, he slowly turns around to see how far back the policemen are.
He takes his first long stride, ready to dash away.
He sees, however, that the policemen are facing the opposite side of the street, looking directly at someone a half block down, away from the pool hall. They call out to a middle-aged man known as one of the local bums. His wide-rimmed floppy hat covers his long stringy hair. For a raincoat, he wears a plastic trash bag, perforated at its bottom, in order to stick his head through it.
The officers wave for the man to approach, and one officer says in an annoyed raised voice, “We told you twice already this week. Don’t be jaywalking on these streets. I don’t care what time it is.”
Relieved, Sik turns back around.
As he walks further away, the policeman’s voice fades. He takes in a deep breath and sinks his head down once again. But his pounding, nervous heart requires much more time to ease.
Over the next few blocks, except for both the falling rain splattering on the streets and the flowing water draining through the sidewalk gutters, nothing else is heard in the quiet, early morning hour. His boots break the steady sound of rain with an occasional splash through puddles.
Sik leaves Cass Street and turns at an intersection. Then, after a few more blocks, he eyes his motel. The neon sign, in the office window, gives the front entrance a steady glow; and just before he reaches it, he turns right onto the walkway, from which he earlier departed.
He passes a light over a front door, then another, and then another. As he approaches his room, he turns his head around to scan his surroundings. There is nothing that raises his caut
ion. Arriving at his room, he retrieves his keys from his pant pocket. Just as swiftly as he opens the door, he swiftly disappears behind it.
In the darkness of the room, Sik stands motionless, in thought, before completely closing the door.
The path he set himself upon is taking its toll.
The cost of his vengeance not only manifests in the escalating guilt within his conscience, but in the wearing away of his will and of his soul.
He whispers, “But if this isn’t me…then I’m nothing.”
Then, the door silently closes, and the deadbolt abruptly slides into place.
* * * * * * *
Over a sandy shore of San Francisco Bay, the sound of a man heaving and coughing resounds above the falling, hard rain. On his hands and knees, cold, salty water from the bay spews out from his mouth, as his lungs violently empty themselves with each strenuous cough.
It is the longhaired goateed man.
Finally, his coughing ends, and then exhausted, he falls on his side, down over the sand. As he gulps in the cold air, the pain in his body eases, and he starts to regain his strength.
With his senses coming back to life, he tries to find out where he is. “The bay, maybe,” he says meekly, “I’m at the bay.” After a long moment, in his thoughts, he adds, I should be shark chum, floating in the water. Why am I alive?
Groaning, he sits himself up and wearily rests his hands on his knees. As he faces the bay, he notices a long, straight trail in the sand, being eroded by the rain. Seeing that the trail begins at the shoreline and ends at his feet, he realizes that he was dragged out of the water.
“I must have passed out in the water, just a few minutes ago,” he says quietly, “It had to have been just a few minutes ago, when Gemini was about to kill me.” Looking again at the trail in the sand, he adds, “And then, someone pulled my sorry butt over here.”
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 60