by David Skato
The place was immaculate, with a bed neatly made and clearly untouched. The floor was black with little golden flakes throughout, which he thought was a bit unusual, but it screamed “expensive.” He wasn’t very big on the fabulous lifestyle, but he can see the attraction and knew why the term “I can get use to this” was so famous. By the time he stepped to the center of the room, Rochelle rushes him with a huge hug. He is speechless.
“Do you recognize me?” She asks franticly while holding his elbows and looking deep into his eyes.
“Yes. Of course.” He says, confused.
“No. Really recognize me?”
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“Dontae’ it’s me!”
“What are you talking about?”
Rochelle walked to the bed and took a seat on the floor, leaning her back on the bed.
“You don’t remember. I was twelve. We were twelve. Me and my sister. Rochelle.”
Dontae’ thought about what she just said. Suddenly, it hit him. His body slumps to the floor beside her. “You were the little girls.”
“You remembered me? All this time? He rhetorically asks, confused while staring into space.”
She took his hand. “When you were taking us to child services, you said—
Ω
Dontae’ always felt good when he put on his uniform. The black shirt with the matching pants made him feel like he was all about business. He had come a long way from the streets of Atlanta and now was becoming the man his father would be proud of; If he knew who his father was. His journey to get here was long and hard but worth it. He was now headed to a call for backup following a domestic dispute of some kind. This was a call every rookie officer was too familiar with. It usually ends with the woman either lying about being abused or not wanting to press charges, both being good training exercises.
The event that he pulled up to was completely out of the ordinary and not a simple domestic violence call. Yellow tape, ambulances, and officers were everywhere. Dontae’ approached the scene and entered the home. What he saw would haunt his nightmares for years to come. Blood pooled under a middle-aged man who laid face down on the living room floor. The knife that had entered his chest was now protruding from his back but hidden by the blood-stained shirt. It looked similar to a saimiri falling on his sword in pursuit of an honorable death. Just to the right of him, lying on the couch, was a woman. Her intestines were hanging from her open stomach and were now dangling, touching the floor. Her face was chopped up beyond recognition. It looked like random slices of meat displayed in a bowl of hair and bone. Dontae’ rubbed his eyes, trying to unsee the horror that lay in front of him. Officer Brady, who Dontae’ had recently spent time with during training, approached him.
“Dontae’ I’m sorry they sent you. I don’t think you are ready for this.” He said with a disgusting look on his face.
“I’m fine. What the fuck happened?”
“Looks like he chopped her up good then, his self. Come here.” He places his arm around Dontae’s shoulders, and they walk outside. “You want to know what’s really fucked up? Look over there.” He points at two little girls sitting on the back of an ambulance wrapped in blankets. “Those are their children. They saw the whole thing.”
Dontae’s heart wrenched with pain as he watched the little girls silently cry. A woman was bent at the waist talking to them. He assumed she was some kind of counselor because one thing was for sure, they would need a lot of counseling.
The lead detective walked out of the door and looked in the officers’ direction.
“Hey, come here.” The man said, waving his fingers before placing his hand on his forehead in frustration.
They oblige.
“I need one of you to take those girls to child protective services.”
Before he realized it, Dontae’ spoke.” I’ll do it.”
The Detective looked at him as the other office walks away. “Ok, the woman that’s talking with them will follow you. Just get them there and son, please try to keep their thoughts in a good place. This is hard for anyone, especially for them.”
Dontae’ looked into the rearview mirror at the girls who were now holding each other silently. The tears had stopped, but the dry tracks on their little cheeks remained. Dontae’ decided to break the silence.
“Do you girls want to hear some music?”
They remained silent.
“How about a little jazz.” He turned the knob, and light music began to play. After a short while, he realized that the girls weren’t interested and turned it off. They had just witnessed their parents die and didn’t have a soul in this world who would take custody of them. The last thing they wanted was Miles Davis. Dontae’ didn’t have children, and he didn’t know exactly what to say, but he was human, and he could dig deep and find the decency of humanity to say something.
“I don’t know what you are going through, and I have never been in your shoes, so I won’t lie about that. You are sisters, right?”
The girls nodded.
“The hurt will never go away, but it will get easier. Some days will be better than others, but you have to remember to keep pushing forward. No matter what your parents did, never let that define you. You have to be your own people. Find your own path. You have two strikes against you at this very early age, and I know that’s going to be hard, but you have a secret.” Dontae’ intentionally stopped the conversation at that point to get them to talk. His tricked worked.
The girls pondered for a while before one of them opened her mouth and let out the sweetest little voice. “What secret?”
“You have each other,” he said calmly.
They looked into each other’s eyes.
“You make sure you hold on to each other tightly and never let go. Do that, and the love will keep you strong. Dontae’ Wade. Remember that. Officer Dontae’ Wade.” He spoke slowly and clearly as he pulled into the parking lot of Child Protective Services. He looked back at the girls directly into their eyes and, with the most honest and truest tone they had ever heard in their young ears, he said -
Ω
They Both spoke the words simultaneously and verbatim. “-I will always be there for you. Always.” He then looked into her eyes. The pretty brown face, he could now make out from childhood, staring up at him with just as much fear now as she had then.
Startled by a dizzying vibration, they both jump. He looked around to see where the buzzing was coming from and realized it was the burner phone that Jessi had given him. He answers.
“Hello”
“Wade, Wilcox and a team of feds are headed for The St. Regis. You’re the target.” She mummers quickly then hangs up.
“We have to go now,” he whispers as he jumps from the floor, grabbing her hand.
She nods and follows him to the door. They rush down the hall and run into doors labeled “stairs.” Dontae’ didn’t want to take the chance of being cornered inside of the elevator. They descend the stairwell in record fashion, finally making it to the first floor. Rochelle stops and falls to the floor.
“I can’t. I need to catch my breath.”
“We have to keep moving. They will be here any second!” He yells.
She nods and starts to run again. They go out the door and to the lobby. They make it to the street, where he could see black trucks with flashing lights headed in his direction. He grabs her and heads the opposite way. They run for about a block, but Rochelle is clearly not in shape to run this fast this long. She falls once again, this time scraping her knee on the concrete.
“We have to keep moving!” He yells with urgency.
“I can’t. I just can’t. You go. Leave me here. They won’t hurt me. They need me.”
“We can’t let them take you.”
“I will be freed after the next show. Just leave me.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” Dontae’ asks, trying to level with her.
“Yes. They just needed me to do a couple of
shows. That’s all. Salvita said I had one more tonight, and I will be done. Then I get to go home.”
“Oh my god, Rochelle! You don’t see what’s going on here?! You are a sacrifice! They are going to kill you!”
“No. No. That can’t be true. She, she,” Rochelle’s stammers. She pauses for a second before a moment of absolute clarity slams her.
“She killed herself.” Her face turns cold as the truths hit her. “Now it all makes sense. Dontae’ I think I did something. Something bad.”
A large black SUV slams over the curve, nicking Dontae’ in the process. He hits the ground hard. Wilcox, Harrison, and Ford get out with guns drawn on Dontae’. He slowly stands.
“Wade I told you to leave it alone,” Wilcox states, dismissively shaking his head.
Rochelle steps in front of Dontae’. “Leave him alone!”
“Move bitch.” Ford snarks.
Rochelle panics and pulls Dontae’s gun, and places it on her chin. “I’ll blow my fucking head off right here right now.”
Harrison looks at Wilcox and nods.
The men start to lower their weapons.
“There’s no way this is ending with Detective Wade alive.” Harrison yelps.
“Then we die together.”
“Rochelle, wait.” Dontae’ stops her. “This is not your fight.”
“If I’m going to die, I do it here, now. Not tonight. My last show, remember?” She looks at Dontae’ as to say, “please catch the hint.”
“Shoot the detective,” Harrison directs Ford.
“NO!” Rochelle screams.”
“Rochelle, it’s-“Dontae’ tries to interject.
“Let him go and I’ll come with you.” She yells, cutting off any suggestions from Dontae’.
“What are you doing?” He hastily asks.
She mouths the words: “You better save me.”
“Let him go, and I drop the gun.” She yells to the agents forcefully, so they knew she meant business.
Wilcox looks at the two agents.
“Fuck it.” Harrison brashly states as he throws his head, ordering Dontae’ to leave.
Dontae’ stands there.
“What are you waiting for? go!” Rochelle yells.
Dontae’ takes a few steps and then runs into a nearby alley. He takes a brief look back just in time to see them cover Rochelle and take the gun from her hands. He was relieved that she was safe but terrified about for how long.
CHAPTER XII
The sun was setting on the last day of the world, and Dontae’ Wade was out of options. Rochelle had bought him some time with her little stunt but was that the right move? He could have killed her and ended this all if it wasn’t for one simple fact. After all the bullshit that has happened, he still had trouble believing that the world was about to end. My god, he was also conditioned. A car passed by blasting “give” as he took a seat on a park bench and contemplated what to do next. Where was Rochelle? The time was ticking, and he had to find her fast. Was she in some deep dark dungeon beneath old ruins on the outskirts of town? He had no clue. He looks in the direction of Quest Inc. Rochelle, the other Rochelle, had gone there for a reason. It wasn’t some generic building. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew where she had to do it. He makes a few blocks being careful to make sure that he is not followed. He figures they got what they needed, so most likely, he’s no longer a threat. He hops into the car and heads towards Quest. He realized that he had to kill Roland, or Rochelle, or both, to prevent what was about to happen. To do that, he would need help because there was no way Roland would be alone. He picks up the phone and dials Jessi.
She answers. “Hello?”
“I need you to meet me at Quest and bring all the officers you can find.”
Now whispering. “If they see you, they will arrest you.”
“If this shit goes down like I think it will, they will have bigger problems. They have Rochelle, and the thing I was telling you about is going to happen tonight.”
“Ok. Ok. I got it.” She hangs up.
Dontae’ makes it a few blocks before something strange happens. The streetlights go dark. He slowed to a crawl before realizing that it was not only the streetlights but every light in the city. He checked his phone, no signal. People were walking out of buildings using phone flashlights to navigate. Even though he could hear people chattering, this was a type of silence that Dontae’ had never heard in the city. Traffic had come to a standstill, and he could see the Quest building in the distance. It was more than a few blocks but, he was confident that he could run there. He headed in that direction at a steady pace keeping the building in front of him. He stops for a short breath and looks up at Quest Inc. just in time to see dark clouds start to form at the spire, swirling in a pattern that was unnatural and couldn’t be good.
The Quest Inc. building was primarily empty except for the last of the late workers exiting. A place can have a spirit, and Quest has always had the type of quietness that felt eerie. Roland had solely taken over the company some time ago after his partner drowned in a boating accident in the Galapagos. Quest grew enormously fast and created an empire using the most sought after and powerful resource of all, Data. From simple personal pages where people post daily eating habits, to face recognition and A.I. in millions of homes, Quest, undeniably, had become the most profitable company in history. This was proven with one move, buying Amazon & Google. This sent the world into a frenzy, with many governments trying to intervene, calling it a Monopoly. Quest was too big at this point, and it had most politicians in its pockets. The vote to dissolve Quest failed, leaving a trail of dead politicians in its wake. It was clear that Quest owned the NSA, FBI, IRS, and any other letters that were government-affiliated. They were unstoppable - Until one pissed off man took a stand. Marcel Pierre Baudelaire broke an incredible story about Roland Walsh, Quest, and the death of Marcel’s wife, Adele Baudelaire, a local reporter that got too close to something. She was found in pieces scattered through the world, with all parts being left on the doorsteps of heavy hitters associated with Quest. The queen chess piece of this sick game, her head, was found in New York City on the doorstep of non-other than Roland Walsh. Even though this was most likely not done by anyone associated with Quest, Marcel led a massive 68 country investigation with more joining during a ten-year fight that brought the entire establishment to its knees. Quest eventually settled in Atlanta, and the companies under its wing were government regulated and sold to separated worldwide entities. Quest remained the primary social media platform, but it would never regain the power of its glory days. Marcel disappeared shortly after, never to be heard from again.
Ω
Salvita stands by a computer terminal in a futuristic room filled with glass computer screens and holographic images. In the center of the room, Rochelle lies tied to an ancient-looking table that clearly doesn’t fit the surroundings. Roland Walsh dons a hooded robe as he paces at the head of Rochelle. Harrison and Ford stand guard by the entrance. The sound of a heavy door opening then shutting preceded footsteps approaching the room. Out of the dark steps, the old woman from the church clutching the large spellbook close to her chest. Her veiny legs stick from under a much too short nightgown as she walks to the head of Rochelle. She leans in inches from her face.
“You look just like that bitch.” Her creaky voice rasps.
Rochelle cringes at the woman’s breath, which smells like a mix of dust and garbage. The woman then stands straight up and sends a quick hand slapping Rochelle across the face. She then turns and walks towards Roland.
“The one true king,” Roland said as he bows.
“The one true king.” The woman responds with her own bow. She hands him the book and proceeds to the side of the room where she stands against the wall.
“I was so proud of your sister for volunteering to bring our Savior into this world. Then she went and did something foolish.” Roland states as he slowly steps to the side of Rochelle.
> “I won’t do it. I’m not going to accept this.” Rochelle snarls.
“But my dear, you already have. The stage is set, and peace will reign forever after tonight.”
He looks at Salvita.
“Shut it down,” he orders.
Salvita clicks on the computer. The computer connected to one router, then another, then another, until every router to every power grid around the world, was connected. Quest had done it. It had used its massive reach to infect every internet-connected device it had ever touched: routers, Servers, Phones, computers, even electric cars. With a click of the button, the world went dark.
Roland, now under pure candlelight, steps back to the head of Rochelle. He opens the book and starts to read.
“Ei-ath si motaian alfatin ehit ehit ehit bjolchaind halishpolkis…”
The earth started to shake, causing a couple of the glass monitors to fall and break. Harrison, Ford, Salvita, and the old woman were all chanting in unison. Rochelle was franticly tugging on the braces that held her down with no luck in budging them. A large shadow began to rise from a circular formation in the floor just beyond Rochelle’s feet. This shadow was different from what she remembered from the ritual in that weird, abandoned church. She closed her eyes and imagined she was hugging her mother. She just wanted to go home.
Ω
She called herself Roche’ Dupont because her parents were originally from New Orleans, and she wanted to keep something to remind her of her roots. She wore skinny rectangular glasses because even though she had 20/20 vision, she needed to be Clark Kent at all times. She also wore her hair in a short bob to cover her ears and make her face appear slimmer. Although she lived a happy life, there was always a part of her missing. She had lost contact with her twin sister right after their parents died. People in suits tried to force them both into a black SUV, but Roche’ managed to get away by biting the man’s hand and was able to run in the woods adjacent to the Child Protection Services office. She wandered around aimlessly for days before making it to a modest house with perfectly manicured grass and a nice large bay window in front. The lovely people there took her in and eventually became her parents. These were the only people she ever told her story to, and after months of research, her foster mother found that Roche’s story was true. They continue to hide this even after Rochelle started appearing on television. They couldn’t risk people taking their child, so they made sure she kept a low profile. It was strange the first time Roche’ met Rochelle being that they hadn’t seen each other in nearly 14 years. Against her father’s wishes Roche’ bought front row seats for her sister’s concert. She could have sworn Rochelle almost fainted on stage when she pulled her glasses off and hair back to reveal who she was. That night she waited at the back doors knowing that Rochelle would be just as excited to see her. She wasn’t. When Rochelle burst through the doors, she immediately ran for her bus, leaving Roche’ out in the cold. Roche’ thought either she didn’t realize who she was or didn’t want to see her. As she watched the bus pull off and the paparazzi started to dissipate, she noticed a white-gloved hand emerge from the window, dropping a small piece of paper. She looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed. When the coast was clear, she walked over and picked it up. Surely enough, it was from Rochelle.