Dance of Life: The Belief Chronicles: Book One (Chronicles of a Planet's End)

by Tatiana Beller

  When he finished with the last hall, he actually got applause. Geoffrey looked around, confused, and nodded at the crowd walking off, barely noticing Emily. What a boyfriend? Emily thought to herself as she trailed after him thinking that maybe his death wasn't that bad of an idea. She was hungry, tired, angry, and could barely remember anything he shared. It was like he had one goal in mind, which was to educate her, and he just made sure it was accomplished. There was no self-reflection. No awareness of Emily or her needs. How was it possible that someone could live for thousands of years, and be that clueless?

  She found a bench outside the museum by the line of fountains and sat down. She watched a child blowing bubbles and laughing as the younger siblings ran around, popping them. The child turned towards Emily and blew several bubbles in her direction. She popped all of them, making the child send an even bigger shower of bubbles her way. She looked around as the bubbles surrounded her sparkling in the sunlight. She couldn't understand the child's language since Emily had never learned another language. She felt it was a disadvantage. It made her feel isolated and naïve.

  Emily was fully engaged with the children popping bubbles when she felt Geoffrey sit next to her. She ignored him. He put his hand on her back and kissed her cheek gently. The children laughed at the display of affection. Geoffrey kissed her lips, which got even more laughter from the children. He laughed with them.

  “You disappeared,” he said.

  “You actually noticed,” she replied.

  He looked confused. Emily was definitely amused. How could a man who had lived so many different experiences be so utterly unaware of the world around him? It was just not possible. Should she explain this to him? Would it matter? She hated stereotypes, but right now, Geoffrey was fulfilling every male stereotype that had existed. Tom hadn't been like that. Even Tristan was a little more self-aware, and he was absolutely a jerk.

  “You are angry,” Geoffrey said as if trying out a new language.

  “Well spotted,” Emily said.

  She was giving him a few points for trying.

  “Why?” He asked.

  And she took the points away.

  “You don’t know?” She asked. “You really have no idea. With all your experience and your walls full of lovers, you really have no clue why I am upset?”

  He took her hand and stood it.

  “It is lunchtime. Maybe we could discuss it over lunch.”

  Emily sat and had no intention of moving anywhere. Geoffrey sat down again.

  "Could I get a clue?" Geoffrey asked, annoyed. "We don't really have time for this. We have so much to discuss."

  “Are you planning to include me in the discussions this time? Should I just sit at the restaurant and look at you with adoring eyes as you expound on your philosophies?” She asked bitterly.

  "Are you angry that I explained everything I did at the museum? That's illogical. You never lived through those times. How are you supposed to know? And to my knowledge, there is no one else who has, so I am your only option to find out this information." Geoffrey said.

  “Why did we meet with Goliath?” She asked.

  “Are you angry about that? Did you want to just spend the time alone with me?” He asked.

  She wanted to scream. Emily wanted to run into the trees in front of the museum and yell in frustration. It was as if she was standing in front of the sun, who only saw the planets in relation to himself. Emily could see him trying to understand the world from that perspective, and it obviously lacked vision. Emily saw Geoffrey, and she saw the warrior, the man who has stood in power for so long that he has no idea or even a need to understand that the world doesn't revolve around him. He is, by definition, someone for whom the world does revolve around. He stands, and the world happens. What a terrible blindness.

  “Geoffrey,” she said rather more gently and with the tone one uses with a toddler attempting to master potty training. “Are you aware that I am a person completely separate from you? I have a whole world of needs and wants that have absolutely nothing to do with you. I exist outside of you.”

  “I mean, that could be debated. You and I are one and the same. You exist because I exist, and I exist because you exist.” He said as if stating the obvious.

  Damn. This was going to be more difficult than Emily imagined.

  “Okay. I know that your story and my story interconnect. I am still living a totally separate story from you. I exist separate from you.” Emily added.

  “Yes?” Geoffrey said cautiously.

  “This means that your needs might not be my needs. Your desires might not be my desires. Your experiences are not my experiences.” She said.

  “I am following you,” he said.

  “So, when we are in a museum, like this one, and let’s say we meet someone, it could be important to explain to me why we are meeting them and what the whole thing is about.”

  “But it was obvious,” he said.

  “Really?” She replied sarcastically.

  “Yes,” Geoffrey answered. “I wanted Goliath to be aware of your relationship to me and keep watch. I needed to meet Sam, and I felt you needed to meet Sam as well.”

  “The kid?” Emily said. “And no, Geoffrey, none of that was obvious.”

  “Sam is a thief. He is rather brilliant. His father is the best in the business. Sam has made his focus objects that are connected to the gates, even though he doesn’t really know about the gates. He is useful.”

  “I also didn’t really need a whole lecture about the end of the world and survival skills. I really didn’t.” She said.

  "But we have limited time, and I want you to have as much useful information as you can use," Geoffrey said.

  "That's the problem, Geoffrey," Emily said. "Maybe the future is inevitable, but I don't want to live focused on that future. You promised we could take our time. I can probably google survival in a nomad society and get everything I need to know about it. I don't need to be reminded of the horrible every moment of the day. I don't want to live in that expectation at every second. I know that we will eventually have to follow Tristan. I know that I will have to make a choice for you in the future. Right now, I can't deal with it. I have been through the most insanely difficult last few weeks. Everything I knew about reality has turned on its head. I had several profoundly shitty years before that. I just met someone with whom I feel a connection."

  She grabbed his hand and sat in silence for a moment. To his credit, he waited in silence as well.

  "I don't want to discuss every moment I am with you, your eventual demise. I can't live like that." Emily said.

  "I know that you will be so much better off once I am gone, so it is not a bad thing," Geoffrey said gently.

  “No, Geoffrey. You don’t know that I will be better off. You don’t know what my life will be or what I will be feeling or what my experiences will be because you are not me. And you won’t be around to see it for yourself, which means you definitely can't have an opinion on the matter." She said.

  Geoffrey sat in silence for what Emily felt was a long time. He almost did the thing he did where he turned off. Emily got restless waiting. Her anger had blown over, and only grief was left. She grabbed his hand and held it in both of hers. He looked at her for much longer than was comfortable. She even wondered if he had the need to blink the way other people did.

  “What do you need, Emily?” Geoffrey asked.

  “I need you,” she answered.

  Geoffrey nodded, “Nothing of my experience meeting you is as I expected. I didn’t expect to care so much. I am trying to prepare to let go, but like you, I don’t want to lose you. I am so frightened that as time passes, it will just be so much worse. To make matters worse, I hate your vulnerability. I know that after I am gone, no one will be able to hurt you. Right now, anyone could. I can’t seem to be able to sit with that. It is profoundly uncomfortable.”

  She tried to return his serious gaze but burst out laughing instead. She imme
diately felt bad about it. "I'm sorry. I just never heard love described as uncomfortable."

  “Is that what this is?”

  "Definitely," Emily said, kissing him.

  TJ56823

  Journal 1

  Tristan was in his element. He had a scotch in his hand, and two beautiful ladies at his side. The room was dark and full of people. The women were doing a much better job in English than he was in Spanish. He felt alive and back to his old self. The insane experiences of the last few days were forgotten. The music was loud enough that he couldn't really hear the conversation, and he didn't care. He was not there to have intelligent conversations with the women. Tristan meant to have sex with them, maybe more. He was there to drink and eat, and feel like a man again.

  One of the women leaned over to Tristan and whispered something to him. He had no clue what it was, but it felt like an invitation. He put his arm around the woman nuzzled at her neck. She smelled rather spectacular. He moved steadily towards her lips. The other woman was watching curiously. He smiled at her too. He extended his other arm, and she approached him as well. It was moving at a perfect pace.

  As he touched the woman's lips with his, the sensation of being with the fish woman flooded him, and he knew he needed Agandana more than he could imagine. The kiss he was participating in felt rather mechanic. His focus shifted, and he was losing interest. A hand moved up his leg on his other side. He still couldn't stop thinking of the perfect lips and the transparent blue eyes of Agandana. Damn Geoffrey and Emily and their wholly sick and twisted world.

  He took the women's hands in his, left money on the table, and led them out into the sunshine. He put one arm around each of them and headed towards the hotel. They laughed and followed along. He was going to succeed at his aim regardless of his memories of a fish woman. He stopped in the gift shop and bought each lady a pendant. Tristan loved the seduction that built into trust, so he could destroy it. It made him feel power incomparable to anything else. He took them up to his room, where he watched them gently undress and then steadily work towards undressing him. He put his arm around the first one and led her to him. She straddled him as he felt the second behind him. Again, as he felt sex began, he could not erase the craving for Agandana. It didn't matter what he was doing. Tristan felt the frustration turn into anger and got more aggressive with the women. They realized the game changed, and their faces turned towards fear. Tristan felt the power in that. He hit one hard across the face and sent her flying towards the floor. Tristan grabbed the other and pushed her face down onto the bed. He was aware that she was having trouble breathing and fighting him. It made the sensation in the tunnel lessen. He was successfully focusing. The struggles were becoming stronger as the woman fought for her life.

  Then he felt the most intense pain in his life across his head. It was so strong, he wondered if the Sentinels were doing something to him. He stood up, trying to understand what was happening when a second strike hit him from the front. The first time to his chest, and the second to his face. He saw the woman he'd punched with a chair in her hands ready to strike again. He tried to lunge at her but felt consciousness leave him as the chair hit him a fourth time.

  Tristan opened his eyes to a world of pain. His room was dark. The red, blue, and yellow lights from the buildings surrounding the hotel made eerie shapes on the walls of the bedroom. He was on the floor lying on his side. He tried to move his hands, but they were numb. They were tied together with something. He tried his legs, but they were also tied together and somehow attached to his hands. He tasted blood. He tried to turn some, but the pain in his head and his body was unbearable.

  He laid back down in hopes that some of the pain would abate. It was going to be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. He could not stay there forever. He had to ask for help. Geoffrey and Emily might be at the hotel. Technically they were in the bedroom next to him. The telephone on the nightstand was almost within reach. If he pushed hard enough, he might be able to make the phone call. He had a cell phone, and he was pretty sure Geoffrey did too, but that didn't help at all. He wondered whose help he would rather receive.

  He tried to free his hands. The ropes burned into his skin, but he needed his hands. He kept moving them, hoping the rope loosened. Things weren't improving tremendously. Tristan tried to move towards the nightstand. Every movement was agonizing, so he didn't get far. Every time he moved the knots that held his limbs got stronger. Maybe Geoffrey would come to talk to him. They were technically traveling with him and might check in just to make sure he hadn't left towards southern Mexico without them. Tristan gave up and closed his eyes, hoping the pain would go away.

  He passed out. The knocking on the door woke him. He tried to sit and mostly moved around like a dying worm. He couldn't let them leave. Tristan knew he couldn't bear to wait for a second more in this state. His organs were probably torn and bleeding.

  He called out, “Geoffrey? Is that you?”

  He waited, and there was no noise. He screamed in frustration, and the movement sent him face down. His face pressed against the carpet, and he could taste the many visitors to the hotel room. It was making him gag. He fought with all his strength to turn his body. When he finally succeeded, he had tears streaming down his face. He heard something at the door, and waited, hoping it would be Geoffrey. The door opened, and the light from the hallway streamed into the room.

  “Tristan?” It was Emily’s voice.

  “Emily? Down here.” Tristan replied.

  The light turned on in the room, and it blinded him. The pain in his head shot like lightning through his skull. He groaned.

  “Goodness,” Emily said.

  Geoffrey’s laughter was unmistakable.

  "This isn't funny. I think Tristan is really hurt." Emily responded.

  Tristan felt a woman's hands touching his. He tried to turn his face to look at her and decided it was best to not move. The humiliation was killing him. He heard the rustling of clothes as Emily worked on the knots.

  “Hmmm… “ Geoffrey said.

  His hands came undone at once, and he felt the blessed rush of blood into his limbs. Emily got the ties to his feet undone just as quickly. Tristan sat up and almost fell over again.

  “You look horrible,” Emily said. “I’ll go and find some ice for your head.”

  Tristan heard the door close and begged, “Help me get up and into the bathroom. Maybe I can get some of the blood off, and even some clothes on.”

  Geoffrey walked over to Tristan and held out his hand. Tristan grabbed on and felt himself get pulled to his feet with ease. He almost fell again as he tried to regain his balance. He held on to the dresser and followed it all the way to the bathroom.

  As he was about to step into the bathroom, Geoffrey said, “It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “IT is gone,” Geoffrey repeated.

  Tristan moved like lightning towards Geoffrey. He was standing in the middle of the room, holding on to Tristan's pants, looking inside the pockets. Tristan took his pants from Geoffrey and searched in all the pockets. His phone was there. His wallet was there. The glass spiral was not anywhere to be found. Tristan was freaking out. He checked over and over again.

  “This isn’t funny, Geoffrey. Give it back. They will kill me if I don’t deliver. I need it now.” Tristan said.

  “I don’t have it. I wouldn’t touch it if it was here,” Geoffrey replied. “They took it.”

  “How did you know there was more than one person?” Tristan asked.

  “I trust your ability to be an abusive bastard. I think you took on more than you could handle. I can’t imagine you were the victim in this, even if it might look like it. I also have seen the carnage you leave behind. There had to be more than one. Honestly, I am happy they defended themselves. It still seems so unlike you. What happened?” Geoffrey asked.

  "I don't want to talk about it," he said, dropping the pants on the floor. "I'm dead."

&nbs
p; “I might know someone who could help. If you are not dead already, my guess is that this was part of the Sentinels’ plan.” Geoffrey replied.

  “Sick bastards,” Tristan said. “I need all the help I can get. Please.”

  Geoffrey nodded and took out his cell phone. Tristan wandered again into the bathroom, holding on to the walls. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower. The water felt wonderful. He saw the blood leaking through his body and down the drain. The soap hurt on the open cuts, but he felt the need to wash himself off from the whole incident. He stood in front of the mirror, studying the damage. It looked pretty gruesome. They had gone after his face with the chair, and he figured his cheekbone might be fractured. Thankfully his teeth were all in place. He couldn't open one eye, and the other was just a slit. It would not be injuries that he could hide. Maybe a pair of dark glasses might help.