by J D Jacobs
I examine the pistol in my hands. It’s the same pistol he used to kill Britt Solomon, marked with “Pietro Beretta” on the barrel. I want to shoot Ricardo, but I’m suspicious. Ricardo wouldn’t willingly leave himself defenseless like this without a hidden trick up his sleeve. Would he?
I then look at the folded piece of paper that rests under Ricardo. “What’s that paper?”
He chuckles, then picks it up and extends his arm for me to grab it. “Read it.”
I vigilantly eye Ricardo as I carefully snatch the paper from his hands. I flip back the broken blue seal to unfold the letter and read through the sloppily written, red-inked words:
Miguel,
I know about your sick games you run in Avvil. We have the people and property to bury your pitiful city in Cozmin gas. But I’ll refrain from doing so. All you have to do is follow these two requests:
Tryton will be giving Avvil a visit very soon; you can expect us later this week. On that helicopter will be the boy, Jaden. He has the facial scar. You’re keeping the boy in Avvil, but you must make sure he’s SAFE. He’s become too much of a nuisance in Tryton and we need him out of the city as we try to ensure that stability in Tryton is maintained.
As for the extra that will be on the helicopter: kill him. No exception. Make it look accidental or keep it a complete secret, doesn’t matter to me. I just want him dead.
If you want to avoid trouble, meet the two criteria mentioned. You don’t want trouble with me.
The letter isn’t signed at the bottom. I reread the lines, then look up at Ricardo. I wait for him to laugh or elaborate; he instead remains smoking his cigar. “This is funny,” I tell him, forcing a fake chuckle. “You’re lying to me again. You wrote this! Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that somebody from Tryton sent you this letter?”
“You know, zorro, you’ve had me pinned as this incredibly villainous, maleficent guy. You never really gave me a chance to make things right with you.”
I turn and bury the blade of the axe into the red wheel out of frustration as his words marinate. “You murdered innocent people. You kidnapped twelve women and kept them as sex slaves. You’re as evil as they come.”
“You’re right, I’m evil. What you don’t understand, though, is that everybody has evil in them.” He puffs his cigar and points it at me. “Those ‘innocent’ people I killed had evil hidden in them. There’s even evil in you, although you try to hide it. The only ones who are perceived as evil are the ones who are bad at hiding their intentions.”
“Exactly,” I say, pointing the pistol between his eyes, “which doesn’t change the fact that you deserve a bullet through your brain just like the one you sent through Britt’s.”
I expect him to argue, but instead he throws the rest of his liquor down his throat. “You’re right. But read that letter, zorro. Study it. I did what I did to you because someone in your city threatened me if I didn’t. Don’t you see? Someone that you trust and believe to be on your side wrote this letter and sent it to me. Someone in Tryton is really good at hiding their evil intentions.”
I carefully look over the letter again. I seem to gravitate toward the part of the letter that says I’ve become too much of a nuisance in Tryton. I didn’t know I was one to start with; I thought I was beloved.
He’s baiting me. It’s yet another lie. “Who wrote it then? Who sent you this letter?”
“You hear that?” he ignores me as he turns his head toward the loud cluster of screams coming from the bottom of the Arena. A swarm of egotoned people have formed at the base of the Arena, all clawing and screaming for Ricardo. “It’s my people! They want me!”
“Who wrote you this letter?” I repeat.
“Listen! One of them shouted ‘join us’ at me! I think I might do it.” He picks up the liquor-filled tumbler he poured for me and steps on top of the balcony barrier he’s been sitting on. “It’s not fair. I got them in this mess. What kind of leader am I if I stay camped out in this hotel while my city floods with poisonous gas?”
“Answer me, Ricardo! Who wrote you this letter!?” I aim the gun to the back of his head, but even if he were looking at me, I don’t think it would convince him to tell me.
“You answer me first! Why shouldn’t I jump right now?”
“What?” His response is off-putting. I think Ricardo is seriously about to jump off this building. I look at Abbi for assurance, but she remains zooming her eye in and out, focusing on every aspect of Ricardo.
“I’ve missed my dear Gabriela,” he quietly confides. “My Isaac and Camila, I miss them so much. I had nothing when they left me. I killed and arranged Atonements, thinking it would make me happy. I even replaced my loving family with new people, thinking it would somehow make me happy. But all for naught. I could not fill that void after they left. I was nothing without my family…” He forces the rest of the liquor down, then cocks his arm back and heaves the empty glass tumbler into the Arena.
The yells from the people below grow louder. The longer Ricardo stands, the more egotoned people that join the crowd. I consider pushing him while he’s stuck in his sullen reflection. He reads my mind.
“I’m surprised you haven’t at least pushed me yet, zorro.”
“Did you write that letter?” I ask him.
“No.”
“Then who wrote it?”
He puffs on the cigar. “You know, I never asked you how you got your scar on your face. What happened?”
I try not to let his question disrupt me. “What does that matter right now?”
“I’m only curious.”
I pause for a few seconds before deciding to tell him. “Motorcycle accident. My cheek was burned from it.”
“You ran into a wall that was filled with the Cozmin, right? Didn’t that ignite an explosion?”
“Shut. Up.” My patience has worn thin. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Ricky: who wrote that letter?”
He chuckles through cigar puffs. He slowly turns around to face me. I tell myself to pull the trigger before his eyes meet mine, but I can’t convince myself to do it. “You know, zorro, you really–” His eyes avert away from me and attach to the doorway of the patio. “Well, hello sweetheart! Didn’t hear you come in!”
I turn around to see Sabrina standing in the doorway. She glares through Ricardo, ignoring his statement. Her eyes are filled with determination. Resentment.
“So you guys decided to surprise me with a family reunion, I see!” Ricardo calls to us, smiling broadly. “What’s the matter, 12? Sad you won’t be getting anymore of me? Did you want one last goodbye kiss before you leave me? Or maybe you wanted something a little more intimate. We can do it in front of the boy, if you want!”
Sabrina steps to the red wheel and yanks the axe out of it. She doesn’t look away from Ricardo. Her stare is paralyzing. Ricardo’s smile only seems to grow.
“What are you going to do, chop me up? Send me out like I did your friend? What was his name, Ron? Rob? Doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Sabrina takes another step toward Ricardo. Ricardo senses Sabrina’s tenacity and steps down off the edge, trying to remain unconcerned. He inhales on his cigar. “Honey, you know you couldn’t hurt me with that if you tried.”
Another step toward Ricardo. Sabrina is almost within arm’s reach of him now. As for me, I hold the pistol firmly in my hand in case Ricardo tries something with her. I only have one bullet, so I have to make it count if the moment comes. As for Abbi, I can hear her eye zoom in and out on Ricardo, studying every inch of him.
I can tell Ricardo is starting to become uneasy, and he begins to raise his open hand toward Sabrina. “Why don’t we put that axe down and talk about–”
Sabrina swipes the axe in front of her, slicing across Ricardo’s fingers. One of his fingers is severed completely and flies toward me, while two other fingers are only loosely attached to his hand by pieces of skin and uncovered muscle.
“AHH!” Ricardo’s other hand immediately rushes to hi
s butchered one. Blood pours out from his fingers, staining his shirt and coloring in his tattoos. He looks up from his hand and back to Sabrina with the same ferocity he had when he murdered Tankian. “You stupid, little–”
Ricardo never finishes that sentence. Sabrina drives the blade of the axe into his chest, stopping his insult instantly. Ricardo looks down at his chest to see blood spurt out from the wound. His skin drains white as more of his blood rushes down the blade of the axe and onto the rest of his body. His face emits every ounce of fear that he’s ever held.
Sabrina doesn’t flinch. Her face is as persistent as when she stepped foot on this patio. She pushes the blade further into Ricardo, and he takes a step back as he’s forced against the edge of the balcony. Ricardo places his uninjured hand against the edge to help himself up, and he drops his cigar over the balcony as he does so. His face slowly moves to his hand, then looks back and locks eyes with Sabrina. A faint smile creeps over Ricardo’s face one last time.
Abbi leaps off my shoulder and soars to the floor of the Arena, but I pay her no mind. Sabrina takes Ricardo’s smile as a sign to finish him. She forces the blade deeper into his chest until Ricardo can’t fight against her anymore. He stumbles back over the edge and falls off the balcony, the blade still lodged in his chest.
I watch as he plunges to the ground of the Arena. The group of egotoned that are waiting for him at the bottom quickly swarm him and attack his body once he hits. Ricardo won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore. The pain he’s caused during his reign is now over.
I look over to Sabrina. She’s held back her emotions as long as she could, and she breaks down into tears. I run over to hold her, comfort her, show her I’m here for her and always will be. There’s no telling how much strength it took for her to look that monster in the eyes and bury that axe into him. She’s such a strong woman. I let her tears stream out and her emotions flow with them.
Abbi flaps her wings back up to the edge of the patio. I had forgotten she even took off in the first place. As my adrenaline begins to fall, I look at the lit cigar she’s holding in her beak. It then hits me like a freight train, and I carefully pluck the cigar from her beak and stomp it into the patio floor.
Ricardo wanted to die this whole time. When I walked through his office door, he wanted me to kill him so the cigar in his hand would hit the flammable Cozmin gas at the bottom. He wanted to take Avvil out with him.
I pull Abbi in with my open arm and thankfully rub her head. I can’t believe how close we were to letting Ricardo win.
There’s no more time to waste. “Let’s get out of this city.”
37.
I place the pistol in one of my pockets and the letter in the other. With Abbi on my shoulder and Sabrina’s hand in mine, we leave Ricardo’s office and head back to Sabrina’s room.
I pick up the suits and masks that we left and put mine on much quicker than she does. As she puts her arms and legs in her suit, I walk over to the radio. “What are you doing?” she asks.
I search through the stack of CDs. “Taking a little something with us.” I put the Fleetwood Mac CD inside my suit pocket.
“How do I get this mask on?” Sabrina asks me. The bulky white suit looks five sizes too big on her, making me snicker at her. I lift my mask up and walk over to her, taking her mask from her and gently lowering it onto her shoulders.
I look at her through the meshed eyes. “What you did back there was beyond brave. I’m sorry you had to go through what he put you through.”
She pulls me in and tightly hugs me. I can’t wait to leave this city with her. To finally put Avvil behind us.
I start hooking her mask together with the oxygen tank attached to the back of her suit, then put my mask back on. “You should be set,” I tell her.
“What about you?” she asks me, her newly distorted voice from the mask startling me.
“Peachy.” Abbi perches herself on my shoulder, and with that, I grab Sabrina’s hand and walk out of Room 12.
Now is the hard part: getting out of the Grandsmont. I think back to the Cozmin gas outside. It knocked me out earlier, and that was only when it had barely reached the ground. The gas at the base of the hotel is much more constrained than the outside air is, and neither of us would make it through it, even with the suits on. I remember the man who rescued me in Westwood, the one who ran through the constrained gas from the wall with his suit on. He still somehow egotoned. So how do we get out of here?
The answer is the same one who caused this problem in the first place. I turn to Abbi on my shoulder. I have no clue if she can even understand me, but it’s worth a shot to ask her. “Abbi, you were able to carry me earlier today. Could you carry us to the Avvil elevator?”
Abbi cocks her head to the side, not fully comprehending us. Maybe I should simplify. Perhaps hand gestures would help.
“Could you… carry us... outside?” All the pointing seemed to work, as Abbi nods her head.
“What about the rest of the Ribbons?” Sabrina asks me. With no way to accommodate for eleven more people, I still have an idea.
We open all eleven doors on the thirteenth floor. Once we make it to the middle of the floor and turn around to face the Ribbons, we instead are faced with a mostly empty hallway. Only two Ribbons have poked their heads out from their doorway. The rest seem too scared to move or explore why their door just opened.
“Ladies,” I call out from the hall, “you can come out of your rooms. Nobody is here to hurt you anymore.”
It takes a few seconds, but eventually all eleven Ribbons are in the hall, looking at the robotic bird and the two unknown, suited people with confusion. “What’s happening in the city?” one of the Ribbons asks.
“Avvil is being filled with the Cozmin virus right now,” I tell them. I expect a reaction, but none of them give me one. Perhaps they’re happy it’s happening. “The people outside this hotel don’t stand a chance. The Cozmin virus sinks, so it will eventually work its way up from Avvil’s ground level to the top of the amber glass. This floor is the safest spot in the entire city. On the sixth floor of this hotel in room number 608, there is a large bin of suits similar to these two. The door is locked, but it shouldn’t be difficult to break the door down. The suits protect you from the Cozmin as long as you have them on and have the tanks hooked with the masks. We will try our best to come back and rescue you all.”
I’m met with silence for a brief moment. “Who is we?” one of the Ribbons asks.
“Tryton, Illinois.” I’m not sure how else to answer. I then turn to Sabrina, and we both head toward Ricardo’s office behind us.
We close the double doors as we make our way in. I can tell that under that mask, Sabrina feels uncomfortable being back in here. I don’t blame her; I feel the same way. “Are you sure that bird can carry us?”
Abbi screeches again, but I squat down and pet her. “Don’t call her the B-word,” I tell Sabrina as I lead the way out onto the patio. “Call her Abbi. And she said she could. She carried me up a flight of stairs, so I’m going with that.”
“Yeah, but carrying people across a city is a little different than a flight of stairs…” she trails off as we reach the edge of the patio again. Sabrina peeks over the edge, I guess to get a confirmation that Ricardo is dead. Many of the egotoned people who were begging for Ricardo have already been Delighted, as lifeless bodies are scattered across the Arena floor. As for Ricardo? There’s a trail of blood leading away from where he fell and further out into the Arena. The trail of blood stops at the crane, and I see that Ricardo’s dead body has already been strung up on the hook that I was hanging from earlier today. There are egotoned people pulling and punching at Ricardo’s hung body, some even found objects to beat him with.
Sabrina backs away from the edge and turns toward Abbi. I can’t tell how she feels, but I know that she doesn’t want to look at Miguel Ricardo any longer. “Let’s go.”
I look over at Abbi. “Are you ready?”
A
bbi nods her head, then hovers her way above me. “Are you sure about this, Jaden?” Sabrina asks me as Abbi sinks her talons into the shoulders of my suit.
She flaps her wings, and my feet begin to lift off the ground. Luckily for me, Abbi’s talons aren’t sunk into my skin like earlier. I extend my arm for Sabrina to grab. “This is our only option. I trust her. You have to trust me.”
Once Sabrina grabs my hand, I pull her in. She latches herself around my chest as Abbi lifts us higher and higher. Not only am I amazed that Abbi is able to lift us both at the same time, but I don’t even think she’s struggling with us. Abbi begins flying toward the Avvil elevator, and I’m stuck praying she doesn’t lose her grip on my suit.
I look down below us. The streets of Avvil are clouded with the green Cozmin fog. I can actually see specks of people dropping like flies on the streets, then quickly resurrecting as an egotoned. It’s weird though, because all of the egotoned people make their way toward the Arena. Perhaps they’re heading for Ricardo’s body. Even in their deranged state, they still want proof that their dictator is dead.
I squeeze Sabrina tightly as we fly above the city. Everything is surprisingly peaceful above the hectic city. Somehow watching from a distance is relieving. We’re not in the midst of the danger anymore. All we have to do is reach the elevator and we’re free.
We see the boundaries of the green Cozmin fog, where sane, living people are running away from it. The living people are screaming, running, acting as frantic as the egotoned were. Many of them notice the two suited people being carried by an eagle above them. They point up and shout at us. I can’t specifically hear what they’re shouting, but even if they were asking for help, there’s nothing I can do to save them. It’s too late for them. It’s sad to think about, but everyone below us doesn’t stand a chance of surviving. A part of that is due to Abbi breaking the glass, but she wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t for Ricardo. And Ricardo wouldn’t even have been in the authoritarian position he was in if the people in this city didn’t cower behind their fears ever since he arrived. The only thing I can do is stare at the elevator shaft we’re heading straight to. For me, I only care about one person in Avvil right now, and she’s holding onto me.