Fallout (Tales of the Other Universe Book 2)

by J. G. Taschereau

  “At this time, I must address the reasons for which I have rescinded my decrees made in previous months and restructured the governments of the Republic of Gravell of Carvon and of Magid. I have always acted in the best interest of the universe in making my decisions of how things must be done. My actions were carried out so as to preserve the established order, even if that meant betraying the principles and standards I have held myself to, and that you all hold me to. I come before you tonight not to declare victory over an enemy, but to admit defeat as a benevolent deity.”

  A quiet mumble began to spread throughout the crowd as they looked to each other with confusion. The Creator raised his hand up to call their attention back and silence them, and as he lowered it he let out a heavy sigh.

  “I have been dishonest with you all, and for that I am utterly ashamed,” the Creator professed. “For the sake of order, I have cast aside good will and created a false reality. I do not speak only of recent events. Two months ago, a body was found in Magid that was speculated to belong to The Baggins, a man I have long declared a myth. I came before you and spoke lies, assuaging you by saying that it could not be so. But the man of myths was no legend. He was as real as any of you, and this planet nearly crumbled at his hands while I was powerless to stop him. That’s right. I could do nothing. So I let him live, and he wandered Magid for over 1,200 years before he was killed. Adam Evans was blamed for covering up such a truth, but the blame lies with me alone.”

  The murmuring in the crowd grew to a panicked clamor. The Creator didn’t bother to try to calm them down. He had begun the process of undoing himself, and it would not be long before none of them recognized the raising of his hand. He only raised his voice louder so that they could hear the rest of his confession.

  “Thus I come to Adam Evans, my alter ego who was split from my breast and shared my flesh and blood. He was cast as a villain by me and the malicious Western Liberty Movement, who committed the vile acts that delved Magid into a dark age and blamed the king who could not have foreseen their plot. But the image that I have painted of him these past months was also a lie. Adam Evans was a good man, and a hero to Magid. He had his flaws, but who among you does not? Even I am flawed, and tonight I express that with the utmost certainty. I betrayed my friend, my kin, for the sake of keeping order, an order which I still allowed to be disrupted. Tonight, Adam Evans is dead, and there is no order left.

  “I failed him, and I have failed you all. My actions in restoring things to the way that they were are but a small act to correct what wrongs I’ve committed, but they can never make amends for what has been lost. I can rebuild homes and restore lost wealth, but I cannot bring back lives that were taken, nor can I restore trust that was lost. I do not deserve your praise, your adoration, or your offerings of peace and love. I am utterly ashamed for what I have done; I do not deserve your forgiveness, even if you all will give it to me. That opportunity has been lost, and I shall never have it again. That is why I must leave you all now, and go henceforth from this universe, never to return again.”

  The crowd’s response shifted from surprise to an even greater panic and cries of horror and distress. The Creator maintained his composure, even as he felt the pain of countless hearts breaking across his universe. Billions of voices were crying out to him, asking him, “Why?” There was no good answer to give them, and all he could do was carry on with delivering his final wishes to them all.

  “I know that this will be difficult for you all, and that many of you cannot understand my reasons for leaving or even want to believe them. You fear what it means for me to leave, the prospect of living in a world without your creator watching over you. And it is a terrifying thought. I am sorry that all of you will have to endure it. But you must understand that all the countless worlds will continue to go on. All the suns will rise tomorrow morning. All of you will continue to exist and go about your lives. You must ignore any feelings of emptiness that may come about, and fill any vacancy that comes with love and kindness. If you believed in what I proclaimed and not what I did in secret, then continue to live your lives in the light of grace. I cannot command this; the choice is yours. But it is with sincerity and humility that I ask you all to be good people and sow the seeds of righteousness even when I am gone.”

  His words were largely lost amidst the uproar of the people below. The children sitting on their parents’ shoulders were now bursting into tears, trying to be comforted by adults who were just as lost. What attempts the Creator made to placate the people fell short, but he intended to make his peace and finish his address whether anyone was left listening to him or not.

  “All is not lost. There is still hope. Hope will always be; it is undying, even when it seems that there is nothing left to cling to. Hold tight to that hope, and to each other, and in time you will rebuild and regain all that was lost. I cannot make you do this, but if you ever loved me as you proclaimed, you will consider it and seek to create a better world without me. But how can you create a better world when even I could not? You must succeed where I failed, learn from my mistakes, and remember. Do not ignore the horrors of the past; learn from them so that they are not repeated. Do not forget your principles, lest you become hypocrites and mockers of all that is good and just. Instead, remember the reasons you wake up in the morning. Remember that even when things look bleak and dark that the sun will rise and shine all the brighter at the dawn. Remember that the only way for evil men to succeed is for good men to do nothing, and strive to stand up and do good for all the world.”

  The Creator paused, looking out at the crowd as it fell silent. He could see tears in their eyes, rolling down their faces, young and old. Yet all of them stared up at him and listened. His hands gripped the edge of the balcony and he bowed his head, pained.

  “And please, remember me,” he told them, his voice finally starting to break. “Remember who I was, remember who I am now, and remember who I failed to be. Remember, remember, remember. If you do nothing else, remember.”

  He stood there for a moment longer, keeping his eyes shut. The crowd in front of him remained silent, hoping that he might say something else to appease them, to comfort them in some way. Instead, he released his grip on the balcony and turned away, walking back into the building. He heard cries of anguish rise up behind him that mixed with a confused rage. The cacophony echoed like the wails of the damned as the Creator hurried away down the hall, rounding the corner and escaping them. Once out of earshot, he slowed his pace and trailed down the velvet carpeted hall, slowly coming to grips with the reality that faced him. The deed was done and the truth was out, at least most of it. He had spared the people the final detail that Mr. White had held over his head for two excruciating months: that he was not of true divine origin and that he was just as fallible as the rest of them. He did not need to say it. That truth would become evident as the people came to accept his final confession.

  The Creator stopped where he stood in the hall, taking into account the gravity of his situation. He was free from Oracle’s grasp on him, but he had still managed to lose everything. He could endure the loss of his people’s adoration and respect, and for the incredible gifts he had been given, but he had lost the most important thing in his universe, and nothing he could do could ever win her back or redeem himself in her eyes. He had fallen completely. Now it was his turn to feel numb as his legs gave way under him. The Creator fell to his knees, catching himself with his arms as he lost all sense of composure and began to weep bitterly. He couldn’t stifle his anguished cries as he accepted his failures, his losses, and his ultimate fate that awaited him. What hurt him the most was that as he faced the end that loomed over him, he faced it entirely alone.

  He remained hunched over, letting his tears fall and dampen the carpet below him, as he allowed his pain to claim him. It was almost enough to keep him from hearing the sound of someone approaching in front of him. It was only when the man’s feet stepped just in his line of sight that the Creator n
oticed him, and still in the midst of his sorrow he craned his head up. He saw a man dressed in black, the same stranger who had visited with Dee not an hour earlier. Unlike Dee, the Creator recognized this man’s face despite a change in his hair color. He had seen him two months earlier lying on a table in a morgue.

  The stranger said nothing and just stared at the Creator with his brilliant green eyes carrying a somber yet scornful look. The Creator’s breath hastened at the sight of him, knowing full well why the stranger had come. He lowered his head, continuing to weep as the stranger reached out and laid his hand on it. The touch of his hand made the Creator flinch and another sob choked out. He shut his eyes as his tears continued to come, and the two remained like that for a moment longer, until outside the last red light of day disappeared beneath the horizon, and all became silent and still.

  Chapter 34

  Those Left Behind

  November stretched into its final days and winter crept closer, and the desire to keep warm was something that most people held in common. As Ayumi Hiwatari filled two cups with piping hot tea, she wondered how anyone could believe otherwise. The home she shared with her father in Kyoto, Japan was well heated, but the crisp autumn air had been biting as the days grew colder. She enjoyed spending time outdoors, but without snow on the ground to justify it, she hated the cold weather during this time of year and strived to stay inside where it was more comfortable. But now she found herself heading back outside, this time holding both cups of tea that were beginning to scorch her hand. She hustled down the hallway to the back of her home to the sliding door that went to her backyard. Ayumi knocked on it, but after receiving no response she used her elbow to open the wooden door and step out onto the back porch. She was not alone out there and gave her companion a sour look.

  “You can at least open the door for me,” she scolded him. “I was nice enough to make you tea.”

  Adam Evans took his eyes off of the leafless trees in the yard, noticing that Ayumi had returned. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t hear you.”

  She huffed, handing him his cup. He blew on it, watching the steam rise up into the cold air. Ayumi stood beside him and shivered, cradling her cup in both hands and holding it close to her.

  “You don’t have to stay out here you know,” he told her. “It’s getting colder out.”

  “I don’t want to leave you out here by yourself,” she answered. “After everything that’s happened, you really shouldn’t be alone.”

  He took a deep breath, sipping on the tea and doing his best not to burn his mouth. “I’m alright.”

  “You are not,” Ayumi quipped.

  “I’m as alright as I could be.”

  He watched a small bird, maybe some kind of sparrow, flutter down to one of the tree branches in the yard and perch there for a minute before flying off again. It was time enough for his tea to cool so he could drink at a steadier rate. Ayumi drank as well, and behind them a wind chime sang soft tones as a gentle but cold breeze blew by.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “I haven’t quite decided yet,” Adam said. “I’m going to have to do some travelling, find some place to settle. I can’t imagine that will happen for a while.”

  “Why don’t you stay with us?” Ayumi offered. “I mean, it might take some convincing of my father, but he’s gone on business a lot anyways. And you already know the city pretty well.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t stay here,” said Adam. “Oracle believes that I’m dead, but they have eyes everywhere. If they discovered that I’m still alive and staying here, you would be targeted. I can’t let your family get hurt anymore because of me.”

  Ayumi gripped her cup. “There has to be something you can do. You can’t just keep running away from them forever.”

  “The best thing that could have happened was for me to die,” Adam said. “I don’t know why the Creator kept me alive at all.”

  Ayumi scowled at him and smacked his arm. “Idiot, don’t talk like that. It’s much better that you’re alive. Don’t you think most people would be happier if they knew you were still alive?”

  Adam tried not to think of Dee, for the memory of her was too painful. To have to turn and walk away, leaving her in a state of despair and grief over his death, was more than he could bear. It was a terrible guilt that he wished he could correct, but he knew it was better this way. It had been a mistake for her to follow him from Erebia Village, and the only way for her to stay safe was to return there and for him to never see her again. The horrible feeling he had experienced the night he first expected to lose Dee had returned to haunt him.

  “I wish I could answer that,” he told her, handing her his empty cup. “Thank you for your hospitality. I really should be going.”

  “Already? But you’ve only just gotten here.”

  “Like I said, I don’t want to burden you with my presence here.” Adam slid the door open and went back into the house, Ayumi following behind him. She escorted him to the front door where he slid on his shoes and threw on a coat that had belonged to her brother, Shuya. Adam had arrived with nothing but the sparse clothes on his back and the familiar dark glasses on his face, and he gladly received the gift from Ayumi.

  “I want that jacket back, since it was Shuya’s,” Ayumi told him, setting the cups down on a low table. “So make sure you come back some time and return it, okay?”

  Adam nodded. He and Ayumi stood in the entryway of her home, her eyes fixed on the shell of the man she knew standing before her. She felt overcome with emotion and reached out to hug him, forcing out a breath to keep from crying.

  “I’m sorry that all of this happened to you,” she said to him. “You don’t deserve it.” Adam closed his eyes and returned the embrace.

  “Thank you,” he said, although in his mind he disagreed, and the two separated. He stepped outside, turning one last time to see Ayumi as she saw him off. “I know it will be hard, but I intend to make amends for everything.”

  “I believe you will,” she answered. “You just have to have faith.”

  “And where can that faith be found?” he asked. “When even gods fail us, where can we turn to?”

  She offered a simple response along with a sad smile. “To each other.”

  Adam accepted her words and returned the same forlorn smile. Without saying anything else, he turned away and headed down the walkway. Ayumi watched him leave, heading off to an uncertain future that was sure to be filled with further hardships. Whatever lay ahead for him he couldn’t tell, whether good or bad. All he knew was that his path still stretched onward from this new fork in the road and he was bound to follow it. He kept up a quick pace so that he might stay ahead of the past, which seemed so intent on catching up to him and bearing him back to the memories he had no choice but to forget.

  J. G. Taschereau was born in Portland, Maine in 1989. He studied Chemistry and English at the University of Maine at Orono and currently lives in Bath, Maine.

  Also by J. G. Taschereau

  To Touch the Sky:

  A Tale of the Other Universe

  OverWorld

  Tales of the Other Universe: The Kyoto Ordeal

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