“They will be put into-”
“STOP!” Chloe shouts, throwing her life in the matter when she stands up and knocks her chair back with a brash whack! The soldiers linger in their corners, though they do share a stoic glance, wondering whether or not to act. Instead, they opt for an intense scowl.
“I will adopt them both! We are a family, they stay with me!” Chloe hollers out, desperate for results...
The man whispers to his colleague again, and whilst they find a new answer, Chloe checks on the two sweating, terrified girls.
“Yes, that is okay-”
Alice and Lola cheer instantly, smiling brightly while looking at Chloe who relaxes, pleased that something has gone correctly for once...
“This question is for the two girls, do you want to retain your surnames or adopt the Smith family name?”
“I have family living in England; you girls can come and live with me there!” Chloe whispers to the two, negligent of the question previously created.
Excited, both girls make their voices heard. “We shall keep our names in the memory of the people we lost...” With their point made, and the game going to the survivors, Chloe has officially become the mother of two young, fierce girls.
“We will talk more” The man hums to himself for a moment. “The three of you will promptly be moved to London where Government officials will greet you personally”
While the man babbles on, Chloe smiles, telling the two girls, “We are going to be alright...” At last, she feels at peace knowing they are well and truly safe from the horrors of their own creation.
Chris, signing away, talks to his translator who had been keeping him up to date on what is happening. Turning around, the translator talks to the mirror, giving away its pointlessness.
“Yes, he may retire, and live with his family in France with a desirable sum of money,” The man says, lamenting unimportantly, before moving on to more important matters. “Everyone is to be dismissed to the temporary living quarters they have been provided, except, for Chloe,” The man behind the speaker says, forcing the two soldiers into action.
“Why do you need me to stay?” She asks, agitated.
“I have a request I wish to ask you privately...” The man behind the speaker says in a normal, day to day tone of voice. He speaks not as a representative, but as a friend.
Epilogue
Chloe
Well coloured, the communal room is much nicer than the steel box I was previously shoved into. Freedom is granted, and with my own will, I accept the request I had been inquired about. The overly large living room hosts many distractions; however, my eyes are only for the open space that has been cleared to house an audience of different varieties. While his request was purely asking for the names of the people I had survived with, and I recounted all of those I could remember from the very depths of my hearts. His request became my own, and I ended up asking if I could have two things as condition for providing him with all the information he needed. I plainly asked if I could have my machete back, and to see three families -the Vazquez, Everett, and Jones families. He was confused, shocked, but went through with it regardless.
Cushioning myself into my armchair, I feel awkward, a tension rises in my tummy and I don't know how I feel about it. Empty, the room is as lifeless as it is useless. I don't know where I am, or who I am any more. Adapting to a life where everyone and everything wants to kill you doesn't prepare you for the normal world again. Though, things will never be the same, will it?
A door opens, and the click-clacking of the polished black, pointed shoes bounce against the fluffy carpet flooring as a single man in basic wear approaches me. A pair of glasses sits on the bridge of his nose, shrouding his eyes with the black tinting. His hair is combed back, light brown, I'd say Auburn. More than anything, he doesn't threaten me in the slightest, yet I know exactly who I am dealing with.
My representative...
“Chloe Smith, I am Jonathon Reed and I will be with you today, you may remember me from earlier?” He asks with his voice different than I remember, more casual and relaxed, not as mighty and stern as it was before. To his features and body language, I see him as posh, with many polite mannerisms showing off themselves to me. “Are you ready for this?” He says when I don't answer his previous question, and when he takes the seat beside me, he crosses his legs and prepares himself.
“Yes-” I stutter, eyes gazing downwards at the ground. “Yes, I am ready...”
Nodding, he presses a button on his wrist, and seconds later, a young man walks in. Alone, he walks towards me. Beige shirt, dark black tattered jeans, well tanned with messy black hair and sleepy eyes. His eyes though, along with his body stature and...
Those eyes...
They look familiar...
Taking the armchair opposite me, the man makes himself comfortable and I am left in this space where it is just me, and him. Jonathon makes no interruptions as he merely sits back and lets me do what needs to be done.
The thing is, I know exactly who I am dealing with...
Gloomily, he makes a move, stiffening; I fasten myself to his seat as he offers me his hand, a deathly glint in his eye. “My name is Luciano Vazquez; I am the last of my family...” His voice isn't like Maya's, he's gruff, maybe smokes, barring these details, I realise he isn't South American. Maya had a noticeable accent to her features, he, however, does not.
Oh god... Please not now...
I stare at Jonathon who raises his eyebrow at me curiously. For some reason, I turn to him for help, because I am crying. I never got to say goodbye to Maya...
“We weren't close...” Luciano says, pulling me back to him. “Distant is a better way to put it...” He keeps trailing off like he doesn't know what he is talking about. “I was an honest mistake...” His charming smile flashes and things begin to make sense now. In fact, as his laugh lines become more apparent, I realise that I can see a bit of Maya in him. They definitely share the same blood.
“I'm sorry...” I whisper, taking his hands, and making the initiative on my own. He's even taken aback by my rash actions, but he relaxes regardless, knowing what I am going to say. “I don't know what happened to Maya-” I choke on my words, the feelings being too much-
“It's okay!” He raises his voice, panicking as I begin to break down. “Thank you”
“For what?”
“For living long enough to remember my poor half-sister...” He says, keeping his smile. He doesn't get upset or anything, they weren't even close as family and he said it himself, he was a mistake, either Maya's mother or father did something they weren't meant to and boom, here pops out Luciano. Our hands still entwined, he leans forward, trying his best to keep smiling as I feel him slip something into my palm?
“Maya gave it to me when we were little... Just a button she had when we were children. It's weird, I know...” He begins to shake a little, and I see that they did share something together, even if he was cut off from the family. Also, I figured it out, his accent, not as heavy as Matty’s, but he is certainly Italian. “Many fond memories are behind this button... I won't get into it; just accept it as a token of thanks for what you have done...”
“I'll never forget her...” I whisper...
She was like a big sister to me, fixing my problems and having my back whenever she could...
With one last firm handshake, he releases my hand and I get a good look at the little red button? Dirty, with few cracks, but for some reason, I hold an immediately huge amount of sentiment for it. “Goodbye Miss Smith, live a good life” Luciano leans over, leaving a light kiss on my cheek. I don't get annoyed, I allow him, and I imagine it is a last thank you. I'll never meet him again, but this is all I needed. At least I know Maya's blood lives on in him. Luciano Vazquez says his goodbyes, and thanks to the man behind the mirror I could see this through.
Jonathon nods, “You will be shown your way out by the staff” With his order, the button is clicked, and Luciano is directed
out of the room by two soldiers.
Now that I have a real moment to just, think, I stare deep into the button, and from this point onwards I realise I will be forever wondering the context behind it.
“Are you ready for the next group?” Jonathon wastes no time in pressuring me onwards.
I suppose we might as well. The longer I wait, the more anxious I get.
The button is clicked, and the swarming family that practically barrels through that door cannot be calmed down by the guards! So many of them swarming the room and the atmosphere they bring with them tell me this is going to be what truly breaks me. I've hidden it for so long, now, I can mourn the death of the man I had to keep secretly at the back of my mind...
Making my move, I know it is right, and Jonathon can't stop me as I walk towards them, and in seconds, I am hugging Marcus's mother-
Crying, the tears fall, and Marcus's mother bawls into my ears, “I want my baby boy back...” She continues to repeat this, her grief written all over her as she holds me tight, and I weep into her shoulder, the memories of Marcus come pouring through-
Stroking her hair, I whisper into her ear, “He was a great man... I'll never forget him...”
A young man separates me from Marcus's mother, and she is huddled by her accompanying family who calm her down. The young man who is pushed to the side with me is laxer because he is trying to hold everything inside. “I am Marcus's older brother...” He says, voice loud and clear like Marcus's, and in his eyes, I see Marcus-
“How did he go?” He asks honestly, really trembling now as he holds it all back. He's been bottling it up for god knows how long...
Wiping my eyes, I say to him, “He gave his life so I and a few others could escape...”
Instead of breaking, he rejoices, exclaiming proudly, “My little brother did have balls of steel!”
We share a reunited laugh, and I can tell in his beaming smile, that he feels proud his brother died to do something worthy of bragging about...
One by one, I meet his massive family, everything from his grandparents, to his little nephews. I feel like I am learning so much, and all at once, everyone begins to become happier, the sadness is swept away as we celebrate what Marcus had accomplished and done for those he cared about. It made them happy to learn of what their little Marcus had achieved...
Then, his youngest sister, so tiny and sweet, tugs my leggings. Kneeling down, I wrap my arms around the little girl and hoist her up, holding her in my arms as if we had been family for years. “I miss him...” Barely six, the little girl says sweetly, looking me in the eyes.
Smiling back at her through my puffy eyes, I nod, whispering, “I do too...”
Her mother retakes her child in haste, and like Moses did the sea, the family separates! Shouting, the crazed man with a crutch powers his way through the crowd, yelling that he's sorry he is late! And at last, I meet his father...
Our eyes meet, and he goes silent, standing right at my toes. In fact, the silence that follows says something louder. This moment, right now, means everything. Gulping, I turn around, and carefully wonder my way back to Jonathon who is ready for me. His hand out, he passes me what I had intended to do the second I had requested to see these families. I have something I want to give back. Taking Marcus's machete, I turn, hiding it behind my back as I step right back in front of his father. His weary eyes watching me, and I see the ageing, crazy man get more confused than a cat and a laser pointer!
No words, just actions. Dented, scratched, blunt, the machete is presented in all its glory. His eyes study it, and bless his heart, he has no idea what in the world I am doing! He tries to find the reasoning behind this. He and his whole family do.
Taking a breath, a new bout of tears forming behind my already red puffy eyes, I tell him what needs to be said. “Marcus always joked that he never liked fishing, nor did he like fish. What he called his father's fish gutting tool became the weapon that slew beasts...” I stop for a moment, moving my eyes from the fish gutting tool to the father who awaits me patiently, even though I see that deep down, he realises exactly what this is now.
“It was passed from Marcus to Edward Jones, a close friend of his. He then passed it, to me...”
Trembling lip, quivering body, his father leans on his crutch for god-like support as he reaches out with his dominant hand, gently wrapping his palm and fingers around the hilt.
“I now return it to you... Marcus carried this until the day he died in the hopes of one day returning to you...”
With those words, his father bats an eye, a single tear falling as he opens his arms, and pulls me close, wrapping me up tightly, and for a minute, with me in his arms and his aftershave shoved up my nostrils, we embrace in memory of his son...
“I will miss my son...” He pulls away, his voice deep and powerful as he gazes into my eyes, more fresh tears falling from him.
“I loved him, everyone did. Marcus loved us, you, and this world... He always dreamed of meeting you all again... He was always worried about you” Smiling, I begin to stop my tears, and let the confidence take over. The more I speak about him, the more I come to terms with my emotions.
“Thank you... I will never let this go...” His father mutters sorrowfully, gawking down at the machete. “Maybe, I'll take it fishing” Smiling smugly, he thinks his joke was well placed, and even though it isn't the right time, I laugh anyway. At last, the knife can be used for its intended purpose.
“The Jones family is here!” Jonathon calls out, and in his five words, he pisses me off instantly. This isn't the apocalypse; I can't go lashing out or taking control. Ignoring him anyway, I focus on the Everett family.
“We wish you the best of luck...” Marcus's mother calls out, and the rest of the family follow suit, thanking me, saying they love me and wishing me the best before they take their leave.
When the Jones family enter, I see a single person, his mother...
She looks just like him, wondering her way across the room, a little bit of chub to her features as her plain face approaches. Taking a seat, I cushion myself in my armchair whilst she sits opposite me. The soldiers stationed in the room abruptly take their leave, exiting the room in haste for some reason. Jonathon sees this, and reaches into his jacket to retrieve a device I haven’t seen before. Ignoring him, I focus on Ed’s mother.
“Hello...” He says lowly, her eyes weak as she struggles to look me in the eye.
“Hi...” This encounter is unlike the others, I cannot explain why. Something is different, and it sits in the air around us, like she knows something I don’t...
“Are you aware of the things my son has done?” Tone regretful, she speaks for her son and her son alone.
“I- I don’t know?” I stutter. Her words fill me with a dread I can’t fight...
Finally peering up at me, before glancing at Jonathon, she says, “I bet you know, don’t you?”
Jonathon raises an eyebrow, seemingly confused, unsure of why she is talking to him, when his little device beeps wildly! The man behind the mirror bounces up, literally fully sprinting out of the room and smashing the door closed behind him. What is the rush? Now, I am left alone, just Ed’s mother and me.
“Not long ago, a radio broadcast was sent out and it tapped into every electronic device in the world...” His mother’s undertone scares me. For some reason she is keeping her voice low so I have to lean in to pay extra close attention to her words. “It was Ed...”
First, I fill with glee, as expected; my beaming smile brightens, only for myself to darken and I am self-aware that I do this. “The Carnage is dead...” Now, everything makes sense at last. I say it all myself. I’ve never had so many emotion changes so fast. It’s weird, knowing he is alive and well, yet, it also reminds of the reason he is most likely alive. He had to do the things no one else would.
“He talked so much... Explaining about this Organisation, and how the Carnage wasn’t wrong!” Opening up, his mother begins to flare up as anger
seethes beneath her skin as she struggles to find the reasons behind her son’s actions. Scowling, relaxing, realising, and relaxing again. I imagine that they have seen the news. They already are aware of what happened to him. They've all seen what has become of him. She sat me down to explain, but I beat her to it, I lived through hell, suffered it, and I know exactly what happened to Ed.
I saw their branding. I am not a fool.
“The final image of your son is still and always will be your son. He's just different now, he is, the Carnage... In a sense-”
“He murdered an entire landing party of soldiers who came to rescue him!” His mother shouts, getting livid at me?! His mother isn’t here entirely for remorse, she isn’t exactly here to grieve, and she just yearns to understand the truth behind her son's actions.
Shaking my head, I turn to stone. “He is carrying on the Carnage's mission; he will continue to do so till the day he dies. Ed Jones was a coward when I met him, but he grew, learnt, and adapted, starting small, and becoming strong. Surviving in a world not meant for him, he proved time and time again he had what it took, outranking anyone else who would stand above him. Now, while he once fought the beasts that plagued him, he battled and won, having lived long enough as the hero, to become the villain...”
The Carnage Trilogy (Book 3): Aftermath [Who Will Be Left?] Page 12