The Last Days_Conclude [Book 3 of 3]

by Chris Ayala

  He stopped midway through the foyer, underneath a chandelier larger than the mobile home the Celests started in. Next to him, inside a glass case, there was a porcelain statue of a boat. On this boat, nine Egyptian figures and two children had been captured in formations dancing to the music of a harp player while supposedly sailing at sea. Marcel removed the glass casing and presented the statute. "This is called the Queen of the Nile by Lladro. It's worth one point two million dollars, last I checked. For me, it points out the happiness companionship can bring."

  He held it up a few feet away from Janice. And then dropped it. The porcelain shattered into pieces, Janice flinched for a second and then opened her mouth. "Why…"

  "Because its pointless. Meaningless. It's only money. Money doesn't buy happiness. Happiness isn't an easy journey. But simplicity is. Simplicity like the world around you is becoming." Realizing how much he sounded like a therapist and a propagandist for the Union, Marcel decided to change his point. He leaned back against the wall. "You remember that Friday after Mom died?"

  Janice collapsed her hands together in her lap. "How could I forget the phone call from Dad? All I could get from it were the words: Marcel, bathtub, and blade."

  Hearing that reminded Marcel how much his father loved the family. Used to love him. He said, "Death was something I had always been terrified of until Mom died. I remember, so clearly, how I felt that night. The fear was gone. I didn't think about anyone who still loved me or the outcrying support from the nation. All I thought about was how much I wanted the pain to end. I couldn't sleep, concentrate, or eat. I just remember feeling…inconsequential to the world." Marcel held up his wrist, showing a scar along his vein. A deep scar. "It doesn't heal." He rubbed it some more before putting his hand in his pocket. "I know how you feel. But unlike my experience, you have a choice. You don't have to be so," he looked at the shattered figurines, "broken."

  Darkness grew. He caught her eyes for a moment and began to tunnel into her soul.

  Janice quickly looked down, severing the trance. "Don't."

  "Don't what?"

  "Try to hypnotize me." She swallowed and glanced at the broken art piece. "Some things just can't be glued back together."

  People change, Mom taught him that. But in his wildest dreams, he'd never seen someone change as much as Janice. As much as he did, the day after his mother died. If he could climb out of that dark hole, surely the most resilient woman he'd ever met could do the same. He bend down and reached out both hands, but she backed away. "I realize that night shouldn't have happened. It ruined us. I should've kept my hands to myself –"

  "A night of booze and sex was the least of our issues." Janice spat. "You murdered our brother."

  Images of Brent gasping for air as blood trickled from a knife wound in his chest flashed in Marcel's head. He relaxed his shoulders, tired of feeling guilt. "This is something wrong with humanity. As soon as someone dies, their sins are erased. You weren't there the night that he attacked me. I was frightened. An assassin coming for me? But everyone loved me. It's terrifying, isn't it? Knowing Death is coming for you? My Death wore a black suit that meshed to the bathroom. My Death hid his face. My Death beat me, broke every rib, shattered three bones, tossed me off a balcony, and shot me in the head. My Death…was my own brother."

  "So it was justice then?"

  "It was an accident. I didn't mean to kill him." Even after all he'd said, Marcel couldn't convince himself. It sounded cliche, like the ending of a cop show. He meant to kill him and spill blood on the castle's roof. Facing the truth now, he realized it was justice. His brother deserved to die.

  "You know what's easier than an explanation? An apology. You could at least start with that." Janice said, turning to wheel herself away. Surely, she had no idea how to navigate this wing, Marcel followed. "Do you know who they were?" She said in spite. "The couple you attacked? In the woods?"

  How could he forget? The Light had chosen a couple, Lloyd and Nina, to gather forces against Marcel with the powers of light. He'd survived the spectacular fight; fortunately for him, they hadn't. "I was defending myself. I didn't murder them. They died because of their wounds. If they'd been with the Union, we could have helped them."

  Janice stopped and spun the wheelchair around. "Do you know who they were? They were my parents. I mean, my real parents. You've taken so much from me. And all I ask if you tell the truth."

  Honestly confused by the statement, Marcel's eyes squinted. "Tell what truth?"

  Slower than before, Janice wheeled away and stopped at a glass display. Inside was a copy of the Union agreement, all two thousand pages of it. She struggled to stand, but was eventually on her feet looking through the glass display. "Can you take it out?"

  Normally, Marcel would've refused such a request; it was the only copy with all world leaders signatures. That's why it lied inside a bullet-proof case. But he trusted her. With a press of his finger on the electronic lock, the glass case lifted. He picked up the agreement, realizing it weighed more in his hands than it did on his shoulders.

  Janice thumbed through it, stopping on the section about Education Reform. Originally, he'd written that section with her in mind. All her ideas about building our future through educating the young were in it. She read it briefly, before continuing. Finally, she stopped flipping the pages and she held it up so Marcel could see. It was the signature of the Vice President of the United States. She didn't need to explain because Marcel understood almost immediately. "Oh God," he whispered.

  "The Vice President signed."

  This was the truth she spoke of. "We all assumed Dad was dead."

  "He's not. He was President of the United States. His signature is supposed to be here."

  The Union agreement was null and void.

  Marcel glanced around to make sure no one heard the conversation and placed the treaty back inside the glass case, as though that would make the reality disappear. "Legally, we could say the Vice President was acting-President. There's loopholes here. It's fine," he said. "I can't tell the public that the treaty is voided. You know I won't do that."

  "Yeah I do, but a girl can hope." Janice said disappointingly, slumping back into her wheelchair. "Don't you feel bad? At all? About any of this?"

  Creating a force field against all guilt, Marcel couldn't answer the question truthfully. He looked at Janice's tired eyes. "Your room is right here. Get some rest."

  Morning arrived. Even after a long night of comfortable sleep, Marcel still felt restless. His king sized bed didn't seem apt considering he slept in it alone. How was he going to convince Janice to lay here? How wonderful life could be when no one can hurt you?

  Today would be the day.

  The clock said 6:14. Considering he woke up at five a.m. Most days, if he even slept at all, this was a late start. For whatever reason, his automated system didn't wake him with soft subtle lights and rising music. Technology, for all the work that had been done, still wasn't reliable. Hopefully one day it would be, because Marcel needed a perfect palace for a perfect bride.

  He turned on the bathroom and showered to the uplifting teachings of a love guru, preparing to be the ultimate lover and partner. Smell your best. Marcel would have to settle for a lesser brand cologne, but it smelled better than the homeless stench of the People of Bliss. He shaved. A smooth face means a smooth attitude. Blood trickled down from his chin, a slight misstep meant a deep cut. He watched as the wound sealed and molded closed, the blood began to coagulate. Amazing. Staring at his reflection, Marcel slowly took the clean blade out from the shaver. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. About to start cutting horizontal from one end of his throats to the other, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. With a shaky hand, he placed the blade flat on the counter. "Yes?"

  Through the door, his secretary blurted, "Your first interview is here." The problem with having so much control was how little memory it garnered. Judging by his pause, she assumed he didn't understand. She clarified,
"For the Security Czar position." Marcel sneered at being reminded he had to replace Gerard. "Cancel all appointments today. I'm spending the day with my sister."

  Thirty minutes later, he was primed and ready. Walking toward the kitchen area, Marcel tried to remember Janice's favorite breakfast. Was it waffles? Yes. Mom made them every Saturday morning before cartoons started. But what kind? Blueberry? Strawberry? His special breakfast-in-bed moment would be ruined if he couldn't remember. Before Marcel would have to flip a coin on that decision, his plan was already ruined when he entered the kitchen. Sitting on a stool in the corner with a cup of tea and have eaten plate of waffles, Janice looked up. His romantic morning would have to be for another day. He sat on the stool next to her and glanced at her plate. "Strawberry," he said.

  "Huh?"

  "Nothing." Talk about her, the love guru reminded him. "Did you sleep?"

  She reached in her pocket and wiggled a bottle of pills. "The painkillers are good here."

  "What about the antibiotics?"

  Without saying so, he could tell she was refusing to take them. Not only did she dismiss the idea of treatment earlier, she got her stubborn behaviors from Marcel himself. Janice changed the subject. "His name is Colin and he's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. " She said and turned to a paper in her hand, a pamphlet of the castle.

  "He wasn't mine, was he?"

  Janice shook her head, not taking her eyes off the pamphlet. Too bad. The idea of a predecessor to Marcel's throne stayed in his mind since the months he found out her pregnancy. Now it brought into question why build an empire when there was no one to leave it to. "He's so innocent, not scarred yet by the world. It seems we all manifest evil, through all the evil that has been done to us. I see what Dad meant. There is good in this world, I see it in Colin's eyes. It must be saved, no matter what. We need to get rid of this…darkness, Marcel."

  Marcel thought about his travels with Lucifer in the black matter. It lingered everywhere. But maybe it could be diminished. Find a common ground, the Indian guru's voice echoed in his head. "I could absorb it. All of it. I have the power to do it, I think."

  Janice stopped halfway through raising the cup to her mouth, in this bewildered state. "So strange. Adam's precognition. It was about…never mind. Just promise you won't do it," She demanded. "Promise me."

  Whatever she knew didn't fair well for Marcel if he absorbed the black matter. He recalled the name Adam, the new leader of the rebellion and if rumors were true…also clairvoyant. Did Adam foresee the coming end? Admittedly, Marcel never pondered that situation. This must've been how his father felt; trying to negotiate with world leaders that had their mind set on only one outcome. Janice wanted to die and he didn't have to see her soul to know that. She wanted to join Brent and their mother. If he was to be honest with himself, Marcel marveled at the idea of being in the family again. "Okay, I promise." Marcel shrugged. They both needed a more calm environment to release tensions. "Hey, you want to see something neat?"

  Climbing up the spiraling staircase, Janice hadn't said much besides the questionable where-are-you-taking-me quibbles. They walked through a long hallway of a dozen sparkling chandeliers, elaborate patterned wallpaper, and past red doors with brass knobs. Marcel twisted one of the knobs and opened a door, being gentlemen-like. She entered, brushing her hair behind her ear.

  Inside, Janice froze in place, as he knew she would. Like most people, she was probably dumbfounded by the room. The walls of the library, lined with book after book that almost seemed like murals. Gold plated ladders aided in the climb up, the opposite of the escalator idea contractors first introduced. Because he knew Janice loved nostalgia.

  She entered and took several minutes to scan the shelves, remaining silent. The first vacation the Celests took with their new adopted sibling Janice was to the zoo. That same look of fascination and admiration shined on Janice's face again. Marcel sensed warmth inside, having difficulty recalling the last time he'd experienced it.

  "Now I can comprehend what Belle felt like," she commented. He frowned. With that analogy, it meant Marcel was the Beast.

  Without asking, she opened the double French doors and stepped out into the balcony. Someone was there. Someone in the gray. Someone staring.

  Brent.

  Marcel closed his eyes tightly, regretting his forgetfulness. He must've missed a dose.

  "Something wrong?" Janice called out.

  Nothing was wrong, except that their dead brother stood amongst the living on that balcony, with that same blank stare and emotionless expression. Marcel fumbled through his pockets. Where did he put that inhaler? "Nothing, just taking in the cool breeze." Deep in his pocket, he found it and yanked it out. He inhaled the medication through each nostril. Brexpiprazole tasted like what dung from a beetle would probably taste like. The medicine dripped down in his throat in to his blood stream. Reluctantly, he squinted and opened his eyes. Brent was gone.

  Janice faced away, gazing over the ocean view. Outside, it seemed like going to the beach during summer just to be met with rain clouds. Pure, yet ruined. "You saw him. Didn't you?"

  Not sure how to answer, Marcel's stayed half open. He could make her reflect the silliness of it all. Ghosts don't exist, at least not in her perspective of the world. But anything was possible. She must've accepted it as much as he had. "Yes."

  "Is this where he died?" She asked, knowing the answer since she had been on that helicopter that hovered over the crime scene. The crime of murder.

  He didn't answer and approached the edge of the balcony, holding the railing. Wind got harsher here. One strong gust could push either of them down hundreds of feet into the splashing shore below. Looking over the cliff and visually entwined with the sharp rocks, Janice must've read his mind. "Sure is a far drop."

  They both watched the waves grasp at the rocky cliff, as though it wanted to climb up it. "Beautiful though, right?" Marcel asked.

  "There's something common we share with every species, something bred into our everyday lives, and it's the need for survival. Would you agree?"

  Unsure where the conversation was going, Marcel answered. Anything to keep to his mind off the fact that just months ago this floor was masked in Brent's blood. "Yes."

  "Everyday needs to be a fight to live on. But, as I look around in this luxury you live in, I wonder to myself…are you fighting for survival here?"

  He couldn't help but notice her struggle to not look him in the face. "Isn't that the point of trying to better ourselves? So we don't need to fight for our lives?"

  She surprisingly shook her head. "No. Let me give you an example. After Hurricane Katrina, when some had spent months trying to survive, were brought to a habitable environment with nothing to fear…they reported feeling unhappy. That the camaraderie created amongst peers and the will for survival made them feel alive. Similar studies have been done on armed forces overseas for months at a time. We are physically built by genetics to travel by foot, rip foods with our foods, even taste when something is unsafe to eat. But then the idea of convenience came along and sucked us into this vacuum of independence. We've had a hundred thousand years of evolution to teach us to survive. Without that yearning, depression has peaked. I'll ask again, are you fighting for survival here?"

  Marcel's throat swelled, not from the medicine but from something else. A confession. "No. I guess…I don't really have the need to survive."

  "There's finally something we can agree on."

  Whatever that meant, Marcel was driven to change this mood and add light to their darkness. "Want to see something neat?" He stared up at the clouds, hearing the apathy of the wind element.

  Suddenly, air began to tear apart the dark clouds. Janice panicked as sunlight began to pour in from the morning star over the horizon. "Marcel, what about your allergy –" She stopped cold at the sight of rays hitting his face. "I don't understand. You don't –"

  "No migraines, blotched skin, painful spasms. My allergic reaction to light
is gone."

  It took her a moment to soak in this development. Marcel had lived in darkness for so long, that everyone who loved him had to live in it too. She turned and smiled at the sunrise. Light glimmered off her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly. How can such allure be filled such anguish? It all just seemed so unfair. With all the power Marcel had in this world, he couldn't fix Janice's depression. Perhaps he couldn't fix his own either.

  Her hands cupped over her mouth, Janice watched the sun settle over the ocean, painting the water shades of red and orange. A tear wiggled down the side of her face and splashed to the ground where he'd dropped the blade he had stabbed Brent with.

  The dark clouds gathered back together and brought in a chilly breeze. Janice's shoulders dropped while Marcel's shoulders straightened.

  "How?" Janice asked.

  "How what?"

  She only stared ahead, over the endless sea, and repeated. "How?"

  Lucifer had a strict set of rules and one of them was to never tell of his existence. Marcel had already broken that rule, telling his brother, but family should always be an exception. The Celests vowed decades ago to never hide from each other. "When I went into the coma, I awoke in the gray."

  "The gray?" Janice repeated, as though the word was foreign.

  "Just…nothing but gray. It was this world, just…gray." He said, feeling precarious already. This wasn't like his confession to Brent, Janice instigated and got answers. "The leader of the Dark found me. Helped me to learn. Gave me the power to persuade even the elements." After saying it, he realized he couldn't have uttered it more simpler. He always kept things simple, because that's where peace laid - in a sand of calmness and rest.

  Her hair blowing in sync with the wind, Janice looked up at the clouds as though they had just taken her best friend away. "Look at them. The clouds. So riddled with filth. Will they ever be clear again? Able to roam without being reminded of what happened?"