by David Beers
Rebecca looked at Nicki now for the first time in minutes, having only been concentrating on her own words. Nicki’s eyes were extinguished, returning to their normal color. Emotionally masked for the past hour, tears now swam across them.
“Are you okay, honey?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Are you? Did I hurt you?”
“No, honey,” the man said. “No, you didn’t hurt me at all. I ….” A sad chuckle sprang from the ship’s walls. “I didn’t want them to contact you, not after the first time. I just wanted you to know that I was safe, and to make sure you were too. I didn’t ever want you to come back here.”
Rebecca was quiet, not completely sure what sort of conversation was taking place, but also not against what she heard at the moment. Emotional, yes, but the father wasn’t begging for his daughter’s return—and their transport was still heading toward the Nile.
“Dad—”
“No, just wait a second, Nicki. Let me finish. The Pope, he sort of convinced me to allow them to reach out, because a lot of people here are going to die. Not just me, but a lot of other people. I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do. A large part of me says it wasn’t, that it isn’t. You’re my daughter and I don’t care what happens to the rest of this world, I just want you to be safe.”
Rebecca heard tears in the man’s voice, matching his daughter’s eyes.
“Is this woman telling the truth? Is the weapon still alive?”
“Yes,” Nicki said.
“You’re sure?”
Nicki nodded, though her father couldn’t see it. “Yes.”
“What about the rest?” he asked. “What about what he’s planning to do?”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“Can she hear me?”
“Yes,” Nicki said.
“I can hear you,” Rebecca confirmed.
“What happens if she doesn’t go down there with you? Don’t try to lie. I’ll know.”
Rebecca heard the man, almost not believing him. Yet, something in his tone said he wasn’t lying, and that if she didn’t tell the truth, he would be able to tell.
Which was interesting, if unimportant. Rebecca had nothing to say but the truth.
“If she doesn’t go, we all die.”
“Including her?” the father asked.
“Yes. Everyone, including her.”
Daniel touched the small, digital button on the Minister’s desk. He felt no awkwardness at doing it, completely forgetting the titles of those around him. He was speaking to his daughter, finally, and that was all he cared about. The rest of these people were only tools to enable their conversation.
The digital button muted the call.
Daniel looked to the psychopath.
“Is she telling the truth?”
The psychopath’s eyes widened, not expecting the question. If Daniel had completely forgotten his societal status amongst these people, the psychopath had remembered his even more fully. He wanted to be unseen and unheard.
“I … I can’t reach out to her,” he stammered. “You know that. It’s only your daughter. She’s the one with the power.”
“Shhh,” Daniel whispered and stepped forward, making the Ministers move backward, creating room for him as he went to the psychopath. “Just try. That’s all I’m asking. Do you think she’s telling the truth? Does Nicki have to go there?”
Carriage looked to his right, to where the Pope stood.
“No,” Daniel said, his voice still soft. “Don’t look at him. There’s no authority here but you. There’s no one that can tell you no. There’s no one that can say you shouldn’t. For this moment, Jackson, you’re in complete control, and I’m asking you to use what you were born with. I’d do it myself, but I can’t anymore. Just try to see if this woman is telling the truth about my daughter.”
He saw that the man wanted to look to the Pope again, but he didn’t let his face turn. He kept his eyes only on Daniel.
“Go on,” he urged. “Just try. If you can’t, you can’t.”
The psychopath sighed and then closed his eyes. He held them that way for a long time, and the woman on the other side of the conversation chimed in with a “Hello?” at some point, but no one responded. They all waited, looking at Jackson Carriage—a murderer, a psychopath, and the person Daniel had to trust above all others in this moment.
He opened his eyes. “I can’t say for sure. She doesn’t have the sight, so it makes this little more than a guess, but I think she’s telling the truth. At least, I think she believes she’s telling the truth.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said, and then stepped back to the button on the table. He didn’t touch it, but looked to Spyden. “How much time until they reach the floor below ours?”
“Two hours max.”
No one else said anything, and Daniel thought that’s because they knew they had no power here. They could rant, rave, or throw him out the damned window, and in the end, only he and his daughter mattered. So they were quiet, and he pressed the button on the table.
“Honey, Nicki, you there?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Hollowborne, you there, too?”
“Yes,” the answer came.
“How long until you reach that river?”
“Three hours.”
“How far away are you from us?” Daniel asked.
“Two hours.”
Daniel was quiet for a second, and then asked his last question. “How far away is the weapon from the river?”
“I don’t know. He might already be there.”
Daniel nodded, not looking at anyone around him. “Nicki, darling, I need to think for a few minutes. Ten or so. I’ll be right back, okay? I promise.”
“Okay,” his daughter said, and Daniel could almost see her nodding with tears in her eyes. Looking for some guidance from her father, despite him having none to give.
“I’ll call you right back,” Daniel said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He listened as the connection ended, then finally looked to the others. He found Yule’s eyes. “I need a few minutes.”
Daniel walked to the other side of the room, taking a chair and sitting so that he faced the now transparent glass. The sun was almost down, the moon ready for its turn.
Yule watched him and said nothing as he went.
“I think we might want to recap what’s happening right now,” Trinant said. “For everyone’s sake.”
Yule didn’t pull his eyes away from Daniel Sesam as he spoke. “What do you mean?”
“We originally contacted her to bring her here, and now we’re … what? We’re putting our trust in the weapon’s sister, that his daughter is needed somewhere else, some place away from here? That’s what we’re doing, correct?”
Yule was quiet for a moment, gathering his own thoughts. Finally, he said, “It does sound a bit crazy, doesn’t it?”
“What?” Benten asked. “Are you listening to yourself right now? Are you listening to what Trinant is saying?”
“I hear what you’re all saying. I’m just not sure any of it matters. The only thing that’s important right now is what that man over there believes. Whether he thinks saving us, or sending his daughter to fight some demon is more important. We don’t exist anymore, and maybe none of you have realized that yet. He exists. His daughter exists. And that weapon exists. And whatever happens, it’s up to those three and God.”
Daniel looked out at the darkening world with dry eyes.
He started out on this path with his wife, her convincing him to shield their daughter from the knowledge of the sight. Some ghastly Ministry program to try and replicate the weapon. To try and produce a weapon of their own.
That had been two plus decades ago, and now Daniel sat here in a world he never expected to visit, surrounded by people he never should have known, and only wanting to be with his daughter.
He was dry-eyed because he knew the responsibility falling on him n
ow demanded it. The psychopath told him the woman was telling the truth, and Daniel had thought the same from the tone in her voice. There were any number of other possibilities—one being that she was bringing Nicki to the weapon simply to kill her.
He didn’t feel it was true, though.
The woman sounded scared, nearly defeated. Defiant still, refusing to give up, but Daniel thought she saw the end rapidly approaching.
Nicki has been at the center of this from the very beginning, he thought. You have tried and tried to pull her from it, but no matter what you do, she’s still right there.
What are they asking of you right now? Be very clear on it. What is it that you have to answer when you stand back up?
Daniel Sesam had to tell his daughter whether to run or fight. He had to tell her whether to risk her life or not.
And what have you been doing this whole time? What have you told her since the beginning—tried to force her to do even as far back as that shitty motel when you tried taking her out the back bathroom window?
Daniel had been running. He’d attempted to remove his daughter from harm. He was her father, and that was his job, if no other. To make sure she lived.
If this woman is telling the truth, then she can’t live through running, Daniel. If she runs, she dies.
“Yule,” he called across the room without looking over. “Will you come here?”
He waited as the Pope came to him, the fact that such a dignitary was answering his call lost on Daniel.
Yule said nothing as he arrived, only stood at Daniel’s side and stared out the same windows.
“What would you do?” Daniel asked.
“I’d ask if that’s a serious question, but I don’t think you’re able to joke much at this moment.”
“Even now, the apocalypse upon us, your mind won’t stop with the sarcasm, will it?”
The Pope chuckled. “The Lord loves me, though I don’t feel He showed it when He endowed me with that trait.” There was a brief pause, and then Yule said, “I don’t have children, and I never will. The only advice I can give to you is to look at what God did, as well as what His son did.”
“Will you tell me?” Daniel said. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he thrust them away. He knew the story, but he wanted to hear it from the highest voice in the land. He wanted to hear it from the man supposed to be nearest this god.
“Yes,” the Pope said, then paused briefly again. “I guess it’s a lot like what is happening right now, if I think about it. They both knew the pain that was to come. Jesus sweat blood and asked that the job be taken from him. In that way, maybe you have it easy, because Nicki will do whatever you tell her. God had to listen to His son beg at first, before finally saying, your will, not mine. Perhaps that’s why He is God and we’re not, because if your daughter were to beg right now, this wouldn’t be a discussion. He is God because He can do the hard things, because they’re the right things. I’m not appealing to your ego right now, Daniel, but you can be god-like, because this will be the hardest thing you’ve done, but it’s also the right thing. That Hollowborne woman isn’t lying. She’s the reason we nearly killed the weapon in the first place. Those people marching up this Globe aren’t imaginary. They’re real. The end of the world is here, and your daughter—impossible but true—is the only thing that might be able to stop it. We wouldn’t be discussing this if you didn’t know it was the right thing to do. God gave up His only begotten son, and now, He’s asking you to do that with your daughter. Not for Him, though. For all of His creations, and maybe that isn’t fair, but I’m not sure fair has much to do with right either.”
The two were silent, the seconds ticking by. The killers below moving closer, and that weapon, wherever he was, heading to his destination.
“Thanks,” Daniel said.
“Honey, you there?”
“Yes, Dad,” Nicki said.
Rebecca had sat down during the past few minutes, not knowing when the man would connect again—actually hoping he wouldn’t. The only thing Rebecca could hope to control was that this ship landed somewhere near David, whether or not anyone else in the world wanted it to. If the man stayed away, the ship would continue on course. If he returned … Well, Rebecca didn’t know what would happen then.
He did return, though, just as he said he would.
“Is there somewhere you can go sit where you don’t have to look at anyone else? I want to just talk to you for a little bit. I know they’ll still hear, but I want to feel like it’s just us.”
“Give me a second,” she said, and walked past Rebecca without so much as a glance. She went to the front of the transport, moving to the front two seats, her back to the rest of them.
It was true, Rebecca could hear everything that was said, but if the two of them wanted, they could pretend otherwise.
“Actually, Hollowborne, I want to speak to my daughter alone. I don’t know anything about these transports, but if you can blast me across the entire thing, I’m sure you can make it so that only she and I can talk.”
Rebecca was quiet for a moment.
You used to feel that same love for David, her mind said, lashing her. Where he was all you had, and you all he had.
“On the right up there,” Rebecca said. “There’s an ear piece.”
She watched as Nicki reached forward and took the instrument. She placed it in her ear and the speaker system automatically ceased, funneling directly to Nicki.
Rebecca turned to Raylyn, though she said nothing.
“It makes you wonder,” Raylyn said.
“Wonder what?”
“What if we all loved someone as much as he loves her.”
It was the last time they would speak, father and daughter.
A knowledge that no two people should ever possess.
These two couldn’t say for sure that they would never talk again, but even without the ability to see the future, both understood the threats facing them.
It was as close to a crystal ball as either would ever have.
“I’m here,” Nicki said, feeling both relief and aching pain. She was talking to her father, uninterrupted and without immediate danger—yet, even that couldn’t change the fate rushing toward them all.
“Hey,” he said, his own voice full of emotion, and that simply doubled the pain inside Nicki. Tears sprang from her eyes. “What do you want to do, Nicki? I need to hear that.”
“I want to go home,” she said. “I want to go home and go work in the restaurant. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“Me too, honey,” he said. “Me too.”
They were both quiet for a time, neither feeling the need to say anything. The air propulsion system filled the transport with a slight hum, but Nicki tried to imagine she was in the silence of their living room. Her reading the Bible, him the paper.
“I tried to keep all of this from you, Nicki,” he finally said. “I did everything I could think of to keep you away from it.”
“I know,” she said, sniffling.
“But nothing I do amounts to anything at all. Every bit of my efforts, and you’re still where you are, and I’m still where I am.”
The words came again, those from that woman inside the neon world: Because whatever is happening on Earth, whatever is happening with the Black, none of it really matters in the end. Even the Black is going to wind up facing the creature that put me and you here.
Wasn’t her father saying the same thing, even if he didn’t know it? That no matter what anyone did, this thing kept moving down a singular path?
“And now,” her father continued, “everyone says the world hinges on you.” He laughed disbelievingly. “And what are we supposed to do, you and me?”
Nicki was quiet, tears still hazing her vision, but her mind growing more still. More focused.
“This sight, or whatever it’s turned into?” her father asked. “Is it real? Is it as powerful as everyone says?”
Nicki nodded. “Yeah, I think it is, D
ad.”
“Can you stop him? The weapon?”
“I don’t know.”
Again the silence … and again Nicki saw the woman in that neon lined house. She’d been sitting there for untold years, a woman who denied God, and now said all things bent to God’s will. Whether or not you wanted to. Because God was God, and you were not.
“I can’t say to go, Nicki,” her father said. “But I can’t tell you not to either. All I can say is I love you, and that you being my daughter has been the best part of my life. Better than your mother, even. You have to make this decision, what you want to do, and whatever that is, I’m fine with it. If you want to go down there and fight the man, then do it. If you want to come here and wipe this Globe off the map, then do that too. Or if you just want to leave, to give it all up and hope for the best, then you have my support, Nicki.”
There was a pause, and she heard him cry into whatever phone he was using. A brief, heartbreaking thing, but something he couldn’t hold back.
“I love you, Nicki,” he said, sounding like he was wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to know what you do, though, Nicki. I just want to know that you’re going to be happy with whatever decision you make.”
“Dad,” she said, but found she had no other words.
“I’ve got to go, Nicki. I’ll see you when this is done, okay?”
“Okay,” she said with tears streaming down her face. Nicki stared forward seeing nothing of the world around her. “I’ll see you, Dad. I’ll see you soon. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
She didn’t know she was saying it over and over, only feeling like if she stopped, she would never speak to him again.
“I love you too, honey. More than you’ll ever know.”
And then Daniel Sesam let his daughter go.
Rebecca watched as Nicki took the ear piece out and placed it back in its holder. She heard nothing else coming over the speakers though, meaning the connection was terminated.
Nicki didn’t move. Rebecca hadn’t been able to hear any of their conversation, not a single shed tear—if there were any. All she knew was that the transport was flying in the same direction.