The Last Days_Conclude [Book 3 of 3]

by Chris Ayala

  Finally, Marcel made sense of the situation. Air held him still inside the tunnel while the spout circled around. He found Gerard and grabbed at his throat, trying to squeeze as hard as he could. Outside, he could see the worm flying in the sky like a dragon. He controlled it, inside him mind, while Gerard tried desperately to loosen the grip. The worm flew over the castle's towers where glorious flames connected with the worm. Now, Marcel had a mental grasp of all three elements. Wind, air, and fire combined to create an enormous tunnel. He guided the magical entity toward the forests adjacent to the castle. Gerard got out of the grip, but only for a second before Marcel head locked him. "Please die. Please." He whispered.

  You're a murderer. Just like all of them!, the water objected.

  Fire screeched, Master knows what he does!

  He's an idiot like the rest of them. Humans always fail. He will too, the wind snickered.

  All these voices in his head made him loose his direction. They were drifted into the woods. Marcel tried to control himself on this buggy whose horse gone wild. Gerard clawed at his face. He couldn't handle so much going on. Marcel's head wanted to explode.

  Then they smacked into a series of trees, tumbling for what felt like dozens of yards. Water splashed onto the ground and the fire latched onto the bushes.

  Marcel realized just how of breath he was when they eventually stopped tumbling and landed on soft ground. He tried to stand up, but his head spun and he toppled. Gerard couldn't catch his breath either, he held his throat as he tried to use a plant stump to get up. Feeling accomplished that he, at least, gave his deceiver friend quiet a challenge, Marcel smirked. He got to his knees, which wouldn't stop shaking, and hoisted himself. Smoke began to fill the air as a fire burned around them.

  Let's him now, Master!

  Fire swirled around, warming and comforting him as always. He enjoyed loyalty, not lies. All he could sense, staring into helpless Gerard's eyes, was how much he'd been betrayed. Betrayed by so many people he loved.

  No more.

  Above this peninsula, with the castle far in the distance now, Marcel would melt away all his sorrows. Starting with Gerard. Poor battered Gerard that couldn't even stand.

  Suddenly, the wind swooshed and the fire died out. Marcel wasn't conjuring all this breeze. Something else was. Something vast and powerful. He swung around.

  A jet hovered in mid-air, suspended, pointed directly at him. Marcel tried to shield his eyes from not only the gusts, but the lights on the machine as well. He squinted to see who was flying. Who would dare to face him now?

  The pilot's face could now clearly be seen.

  It was his father.

  As he dangled there, Nelson couldn't help but reminisce about a similar situation. Looking down, from a helicopter, at Marcel next to his brother's bloodied body. His son, who used to dance every time he got a bowl of Froot Loop cereal and run around the living room with a towel around his neck claiming to be Superman, had morphed into such a madman. He wanted to blame himself, like every father would, but Janice wouldn't allow it. No one was to blame. Not even Marcel.

  His son's eyes squinted either questionably or because of all the wind created by the jet. When he taught him how to hit a ball, Nelson used to repeatedly tell him keep his eyes open. Keep your eyes open.

  "Dad?" Marcel said. It must've been Nelson's imagination that he could hear his boy's voice throughout the air. "Dad! Dad!". Remembering that same charged and cautious tone he gave when Nelson showed up to his graduation ceremony; charged because he hadn't expected him, cautious because he had barely passed. And yet, he could never be upset with Marcel because he was so much more behaved than his fractious son Brent.

  But this was Janice's plan. To harm Marcel, not from the outside…but from the inside. As though he could read his mind, which he probably could, his son shook his head with teary eyes. "Dad. Don't. Please."

  Nelson drifted the vehicle backwards, pointing the nose to the sky. It looked pure black, like flying straight into endless depths of space itself. Feeling the sweat already pouring, he accelerated the jet.

  "Dad!" Marcel shouted. "Please!"

  He flew at a vertical velocity. The dashboard lit up with audible and visual warnings. Too steep. Too fast. Nelson throttled even faster as he approached the clouds. Clouds soaked in soot, a constant reminder of what Doomsday did. What he did.

  His windows tinted with ash. The computer screen tried to activate auto-pilot, but he resisted repeatedly pressing cancel. Pressure built up in the cabin, he hurriedly placed his mask on to breath…thinking how little time has been reflecting on what's its like to breath. Inhaling what's beneficial, exhaling what is not.

  Finally, past the clouds, Nelson was blinded by the sun's rays. He let go of the controls and the jet hung in the air for only a second, but it felt like minutes. Minutes that totaled the most beautiful moment he'd seen since Doomsday. The sun rose just above the clouds, coloring them in warm colors of oranges and red. Just like the day he married Victoria on the beach.

  As the jet began to fall, gravity shifted and items floated out of his pockets. A picture. A picture he kept always close to him swam in mid-air. It was the day Senator Nelson Celest became President Nelson Celest. His family, so young and enthusiastic, stood outside the White House. Poised to lead this country in the right direction, Nelson wore that piercing blue tie. He swore that day, as a Republican moderate conservative, that he would rid government control. Instead, he helped create it.

  The jet careened down, aiming at the iconic Union Castle. Marcel always loved castles. He built one out of Legos, taller than him, in his bedroom. It was Christmas morning that day and none of the kids slept. Together they created a structure. Play wrestling with his joyful kids, he accidentally crushed it that morning. This morning, Nelson was about to destroy his son's castle again. He stared at the picture, feeling the pressure crushing his chest in. It didn't matter. Breathing would be moot soon.

  Maybe he had done his job in the end. The government, unified or not, was on the verge of obliteration. Victoria would be proud, because finally he would be the one to demolish government. Once the castle burned, so would the Union with it.

  His thumb combed over Victoria. Maybe his cellmate was right. Something sparked in him when saw the beauty of his wife and the happiness of his children. Something that melted away the fear of his impending death. Something that told him it was going to be alright now. It was God. "I can't wait to see you," he said reaching over and kissing the photograph.

  Janice and Brent had both sacrificed themselves for the greater good. Adam couldn't bear to think of the loss. But he had the comfort of knowing he'd never experience either of their deaths. As he saw Nelson's jet swoop down in a high speed vertical drop toward the center of the Union's landmark, he would not be spared this time. The fighting had stopped as all eyes, Keepers and rebels, trained on the jet.

  It barreled into the castle. What took months to construct only took seconds to de-construct. Concrete shattered like glass with the force of an exploding jet. Fire consumed the building in seconds, devouring it as if it was kindling. No one could keep their eyes off this spectacle because it would truly become stories for generations ahead.

  Keepers cried out in horror, while the People of Bliss chose to cheer. Adam did neither. Nelson, his father figure and a great President, was gone. Gone from existence forever. He watched the castle crumble like it was made of sand. The Union, as well as another government, would be gone into existence forever too. The war of all wars had concluded. But yet, with so much loss so far, the sediment at the bottom of this raging ocean didn't seem settled. Was this what ancestors called victory?

  The Celest family accomplished what they'd always sworn. Peace. No corrupt leadership or decisions being made for the people. Freedom had a sense of jubilance and disturbance. Since the First Lady had passed, the Celests hadn't feared death. But it made Adam question if he had. Struggling all night, covered in mud and blood, to survive m
ust mean he did. And that realization made him want to struggle more. The fight wasn't over. They were still surrounded by Keepers, mostly undead ones.

  Adam spun and looked over toward the bridge. Tanks and SUVs with armed military had been kept away by the jet. Now, they advanced. Glazed and bitter eyed Keepers had lost their leadership; instead of retreat they wanted justice.

  If the opposition had been holding back, certainly all hell would break loose now.

  After he watched President Celest's plane nosedive into the Union castle, Willie felt a slight relief that he left the facility in time and a bigger relief that the Union's ambitions were over. All that remained on this peninsula were thousands of Rebels and maybe a few hundred Union Keepers. The line had been drawn this night between the Union's friends and enemies because the expressions said it all. Tears of accomplishment fell down the cheeks of the Rebels' faces; tears of sadness fell down the cheeks of Union Keepers' face. For a moment, the fighting stopped to watch the castle crumble. Two Union Keepers held each other and cried. Only Willie could understand that sympathy, because he too admired the vision of the Union.

  Pierre stared at it, holding Willie's hand. Maybe this moment could make him glow, heal this bullet wound. "Can you see it?" He asked.

  "Yes," Pierre whispered. "It's beautiful. No?"

  Willie could feel heat surge through his body. Looking at his hand, the veins underneath it began to light slowly. This was the People of Bliss called glowing. Pierre smiled, "There you go. You can do it."

  Just as he felt his temperature elevate, the sound of gunfire broke his meditation. Six Union vans sped up the hill toward the scene. He watched in horror as one of the vans parked in the distance and slid its door open. Stockpiles of AR-15s could be seen. Not tagged and not electronic, brought over from the very warehouse he used to manage. "Oh shit," Willie said. "They got guns. No fingerprints. Run. Run!"

  Pierre hoisted Willie up and they ran. Behind them, he could hear series of bullets being fired off. Then the sounds of bodies falling to the ground. Chaotic screams echoed the dawn air.

  With his back turned, Gerard was left with little understanding of Marcel's reaction. He could see his shoulders tense at the moment of Nelson's impact, he heard his holler of pain at either his father's death or the Union's, and his fists clenched. If he had any more fight in him, now would be the moment take the Supreme Leader down forever. With just a shove, he could send his best friend over the edge of that cliff. But he could barely crawl, much less shove. Broken bones, bruises, and deep cuts kept him to the ground. With all his might, he used his arms to push and ended upright on his knees. It was better than laying on the ground. At least he could watch Nelson's destruction of the government.

  The cinder blocks melted as they fell into the ocean, hundreds of feet below. Gerard could feel the heat of the explosion, even a quarter of a mile away.

  President Nelson Celest had gone down in a historic demise that generations would surely hear about. Frankly, Gerard missed him already. They may have had their disagreements, as any man marrying a politician's daughter would have, but the mutual respect lingered. The night before, knowing this moment would come today, they had decided to avoid a last goodbye. He didn't have a goodbye to Brent or Janice neither. Nelson knew his life would end this chaotic night, because it was all part of Janice's plan.

  "Gerard?" Marcel said, emotionless.

  When Marcel finally turned, Gerard could see in his eyes that Janice's plan worked. At first, his face had been filled with that same rage it had been in during their brawl. But then, it slowly faded away. His eyes went from wide to glossy, the cheeks from flushed to sagged, and his mouth from tight to quivering. A tear fell from his right eye and traveled to his shaking chin. He whispered, "Please tell the People of Bliss…I'm sorry." His voice broke and so did Gerard's heart.

  "I didn't want it to get to this. I didn't want you to have to make this decision," Gerard admitted. It was the truth. If Marcel hadn't been so stubborn, he would've killed him an hour ago and then go home for a beer. But like his father, Supreme Leader Marcel Celest would go down when he was ready.

  Janice was right. The only person that can end Marcel's life…was Marcel. Without his family or his precious Union, he would be missing the one thing everyone strived for. That was hope. Hope for a better world crashed into the ocean along with his father. Marcel would have no reason or will to live anymore. This was how his kingship ended, falling into the angry ocean below, just like his castle.

  Marcel dreamt of this moment, his deceiving best friend kneeling before him. But not like this. It was more of a show of honoring than pleading. He closed his eyes, listening to the ocean hundreds of feet below. Blood ran down his face like tears.

  Jump, the sea begged.

  Voices in his head bickered until he grabbed the sides of his temple. All he had to do was let go, fall back, and plunge to his death. Time seemed to slow, even more than when his adrenaline ran, to the point it gave him a minute to reflect. When his mother died and he held a wobbly sharp razor to his wrist, he felt this way. A minute could last an eon in this state. He questioned his decisions, his mistakes, his triumphs, and he questioned what would become of his name. Would people remember him as a man who attempted peace or failed miserably at it? Would people realized his decision to jump off the edge of cliff meant he loved them? That the only way to truly create bliss around the world, would be to obliterate the evil he empowered?

  Jump, coward!

  I knew you'd fail.

  No, Master, don't!

  "Hey," Gerard said, breaking the elements' dialogue.

  Marcel's lip quivered, tears streamed down his face. He never felt so alone, betrayed, and desperate all at once. Never again would he touch Janice's silky hair, share a laugh with Brent, or admire the stoutness of his father. He looked at the only man left that he knew, and that knew him. Gerard said, "I lied about a lot of things. But I never lied," he took a deep breath and his eyes watered, "when I said you were my best friend."

  Waves crashed below, more ravaging than normal. Marcel managed to nod his head. He believed Gerard. In that coma, Marcel may have gained the power of persuasion but lost the power of reason. Everyone, including the man before him, tried desperately to resurrect the passionate Marcel Celest. But that man died in the coma and would die again now. "Thank you."

  Gerard smiled, "Tell them I love them."

  Marcel nodded again. His family, awaiting in the gray, would be with him soon. With a deep and last breath, he leaned back and fell.

  Gravity pushed and wind pulled, the elements murmuring triumphantly. He plummeted hundreds of feet, suddenly noticing not being afraid. Not afraid like when that rusted steel blade cut into his wrist. Marcel was ready to die. But yet, he'd hoped it would happen quicker. The decent seemed much longer than anticipated. Contemplating suicide several years ago, he thought about jumping from a bridge. He read the mind theoretically would shut off before hitting the ground, accepting fate. Marcel grinder his teeth, hyperventilating. Any moment, sharp rocks and rushing waters would slay him like Julius Caesar. His thoughts shifted from peace to fear-

  Bones cracking deafened him. The slam knocked all the air from his lungs. A rock protruded from his gut. He couldn't see from one eye, assuming the other half of his head smashed into the ground first. Death toyed, keeping him in a partial life state. Pain surged his body but quickly disputed. Through his one eye, he could see his chest attempting to breath but a chunk of his lung hung out of the hole. Whimpering, Marcel prayed for it to be over.

  Then the sky opened slightly, letting a bit of morning sun reflect off the ocean. His last view of Earth's magnificence. From the sparkles of ocean light, figures formed. Brent. He smiled. He never smiled. Not genuinely like this. Nelson. Light brought out that father, the father he missed dearly. He nodded proudly. Janice. Her hair glowed. She wasn't melancholy, only pleased, giving a slight wave as she stood on the water.

  Someone above his body
leaned over. Those striking eyes and gentle grin could only come from one person. She bent down and kissed his forehead. Hair danced around in this brightly colored soul. Feeling the warm kiss on his forehead, Marcel's body relaxed. It was his mother.

  He let go. Releasing the hate. Releasing all the expectations. Releasing the failures. Because none of it mattered. Not without his family. His pupils widened as he entered a tunnel of pure light and… peace.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Union Keepers swarmed the People of Bliss. Adam had nightmares of this moment; the nightmare of losing the final battle. Surrounded by a growing amount of guns and the sounds of shots fired muzzling the sounds of screams, he wished he could just simply wake up.

  "What do we do?" Royal cried out.

  On the other hand, if someone had told Adam the battle would include resurrected Union Keepers, teaming with a black mysterious goo, he might've called off the war. Every time one bad guy would go down, another one would rise. This endless sea of enemies had created an island, with the People of Bliss centered and no hope of escape. North, south, east, or west, armed vehicles and armed men sprayed the rebels with bullets and rage.

  "What do we do?" Royal demanded an answer from the dumbfounded Adam. She stared, hands grasping his arm and shaking him, like he had been sleepwalking this whole night.

  How many of them were left? Ten thousand? Five thousand? Whatever the number was…it wasn't enough. They had more bullets. If only he'd anticipated a stockpile of digital-less weaponry. Of course, they would have a backup plan. He wanted to smack himself on the forehead, admit his mistake, apology, and return with a better assignment. But unfortunately, this wasn't his High School thesis. His life, and countless others, depended on victory. Victory that carried on to the future.

  "Adam?" Royal shouted.

  The future. Of course! Adam foresaw the future. And they won. But the future couldn't be changed. Or could it? The precognition he had months ago created a bright world, full of light. How did it end like this? In such darkness? He couldn't concentrate with the volley of bullets killing innocent people.