Author's note: The finale to my story, and Dear Lord do I hope that nothing comes across as Deus ex machina. Here layeth answers…
Hotaru: Scaring the wit out of people is fun.
Hello Captain/Jen: Thank you for the kind words. Yes, I've had those life altering classes as well as a few courses on microbiology as well. Dentistry however, is not my focal point. Male teachers hit on me more than women do. Anyway, your work is amazing, and I am honored that you think highly of my own.
Frenchy: Yes, answers. And I read interlude, a little short but lovely nonetheless.
Chapter 10: "Galilee"
"Perfect. Everything is just so…perfect." Barry uttered as he stared into the eyes of the woman he called his wife. Once upon a time, he loved her with all his heart, was he beginning to feel the same passion now? It has been a long time since they shared a gaze full of fire and life. Thankfully, that was all the old couple shared. In the past weeks, their son was beaten nearly to death by three men, three of which were now silenced by death. "And to think I worried you sent tougher men to do the job." Hallie remarked as she then turned towards the fireplace, the only source of light in the house at that moment. "If I sent any tougher men, I doubt that Derrick would have survived. We needed him in comatose…and we needed to keep paying the hospital bills, just so we look like concerned and grieving family." Barry then responded with a smirk. "I never realized how great an actor you are." Hallie replied, as she took a framed picture from the mantle and gazed at it.
The picture showed the five of them together, back when the children were still young, and Derrick just a baby. "And we needed them dead, just in case their conscience suddenly gets the better of them. Silence is quite a virtue." Barry finished, completely proud of himself and what he has accomplished. "I never realized how much trouble that boy could cause." She uttered. "How much disappointment." With a snarl, she threw the framed picture into the fire. Her eyes sparkled as it burned, a thousand words, a thousand memories, all corrupted into forgetful flame. She welcomed it. Barry was fumbling with something in the shadows. "And now…" Barry took out a glass of white wine. "Tell me…how did you kill those people exactly?" He asked her, sparking curiosity from the wife. "Why?"
"Well…those were grown men…trained by the military. Trained by me."
"…Not trained well enough." Hallie smiled. "I played their emotions. They could not function so properly if they grieved, am I right?"
"You killed their families first."
"I made one of them watch as I beat his child to death. He could have chopped my head off with one punch if he wanted, but he was too busy crying over his wife and child. Typical. They even thought that it was my measure of revenge for what they did to that ghastly son of ours." Hallie took a glass and drunk it all in at once, throwing her head back and relishing the fine taste. Not just of wine, but of the dark victory they seemingly won. Madness must have been infectious. "You felt no remorse for the people you killed?" Barry asked, to which Hallie shook her head. "Of course not."
Barry smiled, this time, more sinister than his wife felt comfortable in. With a soft sigh, Barry took out a tape recorder from behind him, and played the conversation back, starting from the question of how she killed the families. Hallie was now confused, and Barry, as always, was on top of his game. He put down the recorder and drew closer to his wife. "…I promised as a new life when I told you that we needed to get our problem ridden child out of the picture, and you agreed. But I had a change of plans…you see, the story now is that you were the disappointed mother and I…the caring father. It was in a fit of madness that you hired men to beat your child, and the same story follows…except I am not in it, save for the fact that I found out your plan and heroically foiled it, albeit just a little too late."
"…" Hallie was muted with shock as Barry grinned and turned around. A melancholic violin solo was played in an mp3 player on the wall. The elaborate and beautiful strings seemed to sing a song of cruel realization, one that seemed to reflect the swell in Hallie's eyes. "I want a new life for myself you insane old hag." Barry continued. "And that means you are out of the picture as well." He followed, emphasizing the word 'you'. Trust was fundamental in any given relationship. Hallie forgot that. "…"
"Oh, and I already alerted the police…about the same time you shot the poor man outside. I hope you don't mind. I bet they'd love to hear your recorded confession." He teased, before finishing his glass. As if on cue, the faint wail of sirens began to slip through the strong howling winds. Flashes of red and blue, small at first, but impending, frightening, growing larger by the minute. They were coming for her. Hallie's mouth hung half open, not knowing how exactly to react. The betrayal was so sudden, so out of plan. "…hush…" she then began to sing. "…hush now baby…" Barry felt his skin suddenly crawl with his wife's cold voice, and turned around just in time to see her slam a porcelain face across his face. Although he was old, he was still strong, strong enough to withstand the blow with just a stagger. With an angry cry, he back fisted her with his right hand, sending her to the floor. He could kill her then and there as a form of self-defense, with the streaming blood from his forehead lending credence to the statement. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough time to finish the thought, as Hallie sprang back up with a piercing shriek, stabbing Barry through the neck with a shard of broken porcelain.
Barry gasped for air as pain began to electrocute his being. He survived so many things in his prime, but now was not such a time. His skin wasn't as tough as it used to be, and neither was his threshold for pain. He soon crumpled to the ground, followed by Hallie who pushed the shard deeper and deeper with both hands. Then, with another loud cry, she pulled it out, resulting in a spray of blood from now dangling arteries and veins. Hallie began to laugh as she pushed herself up, her husband convulsing on the floor while spitting out blood. With a deep breath, the madwoman then took off her stained jacket and grabbed the gun she left on a table when she walked into the house. Now, in her unstable mind, was the time to end this once and for all. There was no time to burn the recording, no time to hide the body that she now had numerous fingerprints on. Now was the time to run, back to the beginning, and close the circle.
About a minute later, the police kicked down the door, and swarmed into the house, pointing their handguns into every imaginable direction where the woman could hide. "Mr. Burton's down!" cried an officer, who knelt down to check the old man's pulse. "Well?" asked a female officer. The figure was on his belly, one hand stretched out while the other was bloodied from covering the neck wound. It was as if he struggled to get on his feet before he was found in the way he was. His eyes were wide open, hauntingly beautiful spheres that reflected the soul. "…He's gone…call for C.S.I." The man uttered as he stood back up. "So is his wife." Chided an officer who just finished sweeping through the large residence. "Shit…where the hell could she have gone…?" An agitated officer cursed under his breath. "Go check the woods behind the house. Seal the area." Ordered the captain, placing both his hands on his waist. "…Mr. Burton was a fine man…" He uttered, shaking his head.
Alex rested his head on his hands as he stared at the unconscious face of Derrick. He had on a fitted, plain red shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He didn't really care how much he looked nowadays, especially since the play if perspective could change drastically in just a moment. That however, did not stop him from being one of the most handsome students in the university, even though he did not really think it. All he thought about was that his boyfriend was currently in a coma. In his life, Alex knew and heard of countless miracles happening from day to day, ranging from thoughtless irregularities to what clearly is beyond coincidental. That entire day was spent praying for a miracle, a sudden twist of divinity where Derrick would open his eyes and smile his beautiful smile at him. It was a smile that Alex could always remember.
"You know Derrick? Sometimes I wonder." Alex then whispered, standing up, but his face still leaning downwards, towards his boyfriend's. "With everything happening around the world…the war, the bloodshed, the…madness, is it just better if we go away? Right now, are you in a better place? Not seeing, maybe not even really feeling. What if you're dreaming? You know…of a better place. I was wondering…am I there with you?" There was a childish vulnerability in his voice, betraying his large, strong figure. He knew that comatose people do not dream, at least not that he knew, but the strange peace that captivated his lover, captivated him as well. Sometimes, he hated being in love. It was an emotion that could very well blind the beholder and its entire kin. The equivalent of an internal Trojan horse, with armed soldiers ready and waiting for a sign to come out and rip your heart to pieces. But then again, love, so vague and abstract, also inspired men to be the best that they could be, and women to be more than what was expected of them.
Love and life are intertwined like the Pisces, a deep whirlpool of dazzling beauty and discord. Going deeper, ever slowly but irreproachably, love is a cascade of glass that makes the person see something better within him or herself. Behind the glass is the person who made that someone see something better in the cascade. For some people, that was love, not a relationship of two figures but a symbol of status. For some love is love when that person makes you feel a better somebody than you really are. At times, Alex wonders if Derrick just wanted to be his boyfriend because of his place in the social community. But then again, his ego justifies that if it were the case, Derrick wouldn't be hell bent on actually hiding that relationship. The question still remains however, is what they have worth it? Alex has been thinking for the longest time now, if what they had could even be labeled as a relationship. He hated hiding. He hid all his life, and now, the person he loved wanted to push him back to that direction. How could that be love? His mind wandered to articles and journals mentioning that homosexuals do not feel love, only lust. Then he wondered if his entire relationship was based on the notion of disproving such unhealthy bias. "No." He thought.
"Derrick…if you can hear me…I just wanted to tell you that…I love you, no matter what. And I'll wait for you." He brushed aside a strand of Derrick's hair, and for the first time in a long time, kissed him on the lips. The sincerest kiss he had in ages. Poetic that it had to be with someone unconscious. "I don't care how long Derrick…just come back, okay?" he pleaded in a soft voice, kissing him again, this time like a simple brush of air. He leaned back, standing now, but his gaze was still on the young, bedridden man. At that moment, a calm began to lift his spirits, a new melodic silence that began to strum at his heart. He had convinced himself that he loved someone. With a smile, he turned around, exactly the same time a gunshot suddenly rang out. The loud ringing whirl of sound, along with the panicked scream of nurses and personnel, soon left Alex's ears as he looked down to find blood slowly dampen his shirt. Two more shots echoed, again through the chest, but this time, closer, so much that the blood burst out into fine red mist, which gracefully fell on Derrick's chest and neck like crimson chaff.
Alex did not shout, nor cry, but his shock prevailed over the pain, as he fell to his back, his left arm hung on the side of Derrick's bed. Hallie stood just outside the door which was opposite the bed, her gun hand trembling, singing, or at least humming something about an insatiable little boy and endless promise. There were tears in her eyes. Alex took a deep breath, turned, grimaced, and crawled up so that his torso leaned on the bed, a protective cover for Derrick. He felt something blow through his shoulder, splattering blood in his cheek, but he ignored it, as much as was humanly could anyway. Hallie was a sure shot, but she was faltering. Her heart, however buried, was still beating.
Still acting. On the other hand, Alex felt his heart beat slower and slower, but at the brink of death or not, he did not think of himself. He kept his eyes on Derrick, ignoring the sound of rushed footsteps, of more gunfire, of a woman crumpling to the floor in silent defiance. He kept his eyes on Derrick, ignoring the police officers that began to check up on Hallie's body. One of them notices Alex, but he could not discern their words from inaudible gibberish. More footsteps, some patient crying, an officer down. Alex smiled, knowing that Derrick was safe, and second later, fell to the ground. The cold overcame him, and even though he wished nothing more than be in Derrick's arms, he knew that it was not possible. With a tear rolling down the side of his face, now staring at nothing but dust and the wheels, Alex closed his eyes and died.
In the swirl of madness and blood, in the loss of life and of love, Derrick slept, unknowing, not waking. Trapped in a world where there was nothing and no one, save an endless darkness that could only be described as the prelude to oblivion. In this depraved silence, Derrick rests. Nothing, no one. Silent. But then, destiny arose, bathed in a bright light that defied the darkness. With a twisted grin, it pointed at Derrick, with long bony hands that resembled death more than anything else. He then felt himself falling, falling away from the endless shroud of night and into a vortex of light, or memories, once again, of love. He saw faces, people he knew, people he did not. And at that moment, Derrick opened his eyes and found himself back in the unforgiving clutch of reality. He had awakened. He was alive. It was a miracle. A newfound sensation overwhelmed his being as a hundred questions began to race to his mind. When and where, who or how. He turned his head, and his eyes widened in shock and horror at the very first thing he saw.
The End.
Author's note: I hope I didn't raise your hopes of anything HAPPY actually happening to anyone of my stories, now. Well, it was an awkward time writing this story, and I am very much proud of how it turned out if you don't mind the moment of sudden vanity. Thanks to you who reviewed, may you review more! Hehe. Until the next time.