“Fine, but it still means trouble,” I warn.
“Of course it does, everything here means trouble, but it will all be all right in the end,” Thorn says.
“How so?” I ask, thinking only of Liesel. I was supposed to meet her today—had no idea how I was going to pull that off or what I was going to say, but I was. In less than an hour, in fact. We were supposed to meet the cadets right before they got to go and get ready to get in formation for the ceremony. Right now I just want to be sure there were no more weird accidents or attacks or fires started or murders or anything. needless to say all of those things happen.
“We’ll all die,” Thorn says, calmly, “Then everything will be all right.”
“Do you think they’re here yet?” I spin around in the auditorium. There aren’t that many people, most of them look as nervous as I am which is comforting in a way. None of the children are out yet, though. But surely they are coming soon they said we’d get to see them.
“I’m sure they didn’t lose him,” Jacob says, dryly. He’s not been very supportive or helpful, which is irritating since he did volunteer to come with me. “Honestly why are you so apprehensive? It’s not like we don’t know what the heathen looks like.”
“Because, it’s been weeks and----” and something might have happened something always happens “---and after they said they’d sent him to prison and all that---I just want to know what’s going on.”
“And you think we’ll find out from him?” Jacob asks, bemused.
“If you’re going to be so negative about seeing Titus why did you come?” I ask. This is hard enough, to pretend I actually want to see him, without my eldest miserable son hanging about making sarcastic remarks.
“Because I wanted to meet these people who have promised to take him to a different planet from us and I wanted to thank them.”
“Jacob!! That’s horrible,” I say.
“Admit it, that’s why you came.”
“it isn’t.”
“It bloody well is,” he laughs.
“I’m not thanking them, I want to make sure it’s true and what they want to do but not thank them,” I say. that would be wrong. You don’t thank a person for committing suicide.
“We should. It’s probably saved all of our lives,” he says, dryly.
“Jacob, you’re being ridiculous,” I say, because he’s echoing my thoughts too much.
“Hilda’s already dead, I’m amazed he stopped there,” he says, eyes devoid of emotion.
“We don’t know that that was his fault,” I say, but my voice cracks at the mention of my only daughter, long dead now, sweet child. Dead at her own brother’s hand, no doubt.
“No, they were just walking home alone and she gets strangled by somebody the police never catch and poor little Titus sees the whole thing,” Jacob says, mockingly, “We’ve always known there was something wrong with him. Why can’t you just admit it?”
“He cried,” I say, “He never cries, he’s never cried in his life. He cried for her.”
“He was acting. Making us believe he was upset so we wouldn’t suspect him, Jesus, we all know he’s a sociopath,” Jacob says, “We’re lucky they are taking him away, let him murder Isylgyns instead of humans.”
“He’s just---he’s just too clever for his own good, and he never had your father around that was hard on him---”
“No, I think that actually went better---”
“And you were all so much older than him and he’s different. They would know if he’s crazy---”
“Space Forces? They launch themselves into orbit in little tin cans to fight monsters that is the very definition of crazy,” he says, “Titus is evil, and we are lucky if we can escape him.”
I slap his cheek but he catches my arm before I can move it away, his grip is like a vice.
“Don’t take out on me what you should’ve done to him,” he hisses, slowly letting my hand go. There are finger nail marks in my skin.
“I did beat him, for putting his hands to his head like he did and all else,” I say. don’t tell him that I beat him the night Hilda died. I blamed him. even if he did just witness it, I blamed him. Bastard spawn. I never wanted him, never wanted to raise him never wanted to have him. so many nights, crying and screaming in his crib, I could have so easily smothered him and spared the universe the pain of his existence. And I didn’t. and now we had to pay for what I’d brought into the world but what I didn’t see what I’d never seen was why Hilda had to pay? Sweet thing, he wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t her fault. Why did she have to pay? Why did he have to take her from me? I found a broom and beat him with it, black and blue. He sobbed and he barely fought back, it took Jacob to get us off each other both of us sobbing. Him saying he couldn’t save her, me screaming at him that he killed her.
“And look at the good it did,” Jacob says, darkly.
“I tried—”
“You failed.”
“I know that,” I say, close to striking him again, “God help me I know that, but I wasn’t ready. In all the evil I imagined I didn’t know he would be---him.”
“I know,” he says, reaching out to touch my arm but I move away. “I know. I’m just afraid.”
“So am I,” I say.
“Should we just go?” he asks.
“No, let’s at least do this, see him one last time. Maybe he’s all right. Maybe he’s changed.”
Since I can blow the entire building up with all of our families inside, and make it look like Nolan did it, I fail to see why I shouldn’t. Time for some fun.
“Hey, Kip, is Titus here with you?” I ask, going into the control room. I should remember customs and courtesies, but we’re in a rush, and it’s been a really long week, a lot of it spent helping Kip clean computers and listen to his philosophies on life.
“No, I haven’t seen him all day,” he says, spinning around in his chair, “Why? Aren’t you guys supposed to be meeting families if you have them?”
“Yeah, if not we just get to eat before the ceremony, thanks,” I say, bolting back out of the room, cutting off his response which is: “Eat? Really? What? Could I come I---”
“Titus isn’t there?” Liesel asks, as I meet her in the hall.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, trying to stop the panic in my chest. “Do you think---”
“As often as we joke about him blowing up the base do you think he’d actually do it?” Liesel asks, her eyes meet mine. We are thinking the same thing.
“That and Nolan’s loose and---things don’t go well when Titus is missing,” I say.
“Let’s go and find him,” she agrees, and we both hurry down the hall.
“You have to go and meet your family---” I say, remembering, of course, she has something to look forward to.
“Not if the entire building burns down,” she says, dryly, “Come on, let’s just take a quick look around.”
Chapter 16
N ow, you would think walking into the broom closet that you’ve been living out of for the past week would be uneventful. You’re going to get your flight cap which it seems you forgot because you can’t find it anywhere, and you’re in a hurry because you want to see your mum before the ceremony because you need to talk about your sister’s murder. So running back to the closet is an inconvenience at best. Boring, annoying maybe, but certainly not life threatening. That is what you would think.
You would be wrong.
I step in the door and hear the click of the trap that is positioned on the door jam. As the door swings open, a simple lever swings down, looping the noose around my neck. I step automatically forward, as though to run away from it, and my feet crack through the floor, which has been cut away and replaced with bare drywall, plunging me downward towards the lower level, suspended only by my neck in the noose.
My hands reach up, grabbing the rope above me and pulling me up, so that at least I can breathe. But I can’t let go, I can’t move. If I let go the noose around my neck will str
angle me or crack my neck I’m not sure which but one of those things will happen. I look down at the floor beneath me, but it’s fallen away. somebody took out the carpet tiles, sawed away the support beams, and now took away the tiles all together so that my feet, when they landed on the floor, went straight through the insulation and ceiling tiles, about to plunge me to my death.
My arms already ache from holding myself up from the knot of the noose, now lying oh so placidly around my neck. I twist in the knot and look around. Nothing. surely somebody will come? No, everyone’s getting ready for the ceremony, they wouldn’t be---
I hear footsteps, blessed footsteps, somebody is coming thank god just hold my legs up, call for help, unloop it from around my neck now anything---
The footsteps stop and there is a very distinct high pitched scream, and then the footsteps retreat.
“Come back!!” I cry but I don’t know if don’t make sound or the person doesn’t hear me because they are already gone. Either way I’m still trapped. I breath. Just try to breath. Just breath it’s okay you’re hanging on just hang on. just hang on.
“Let go.”
I close my eyes but open or closed I still see him standing there. The purple rope marks around his neck. His eyes a bit bulging from just hanging there for hours and hours while we waited for someone to come.
“Just let go,” he says, “Release your hands. It’ll all be over.”
“No,” I choke, my hold is slipping it’s getting tighter around my neck but I cling to the rope with all my might.
“Just. Let go,” Ian says, “It’s so easy. So very easy. To let go. What you are doing is hard.”
“No, no I don’t want to. it’s hard but that’s okay. I don’t want to let go,” I whisper, my voice is breaking.
“Why? It’s so very hard. Just let go, don’t be afraid. let go and you can step right down and be with me,” he says, pointing at the floor. It’s whole now. whole and safe.
“No. It’s not real. And you’re not real. You’re not you,” I say, feeling tears well in my eyes, “I want to stay here.”
“No you don’t. you want to let go,” he whispers, reaching out to touch my face with his cold hand. He moves his hand up to mine, gently pressing against my aching fingers, “Let go it’s all safe down here. it’ll all be all right.”
“No. no I’m not coming with you you’re not Ian. You’re something else you’re not him. Ian wouldn’t want me to die, he didn’t want to die he was just hurting too much. And it hurt to even leave me that’s why he didn’t tell me. but he didn’t really want to leave. And neither do I.”
“No, you’re right, I’m not him, Quentin,” he laughs, “I’m you. I’m in you and I’m stronger than you are. And you will give in. and then I’ll stop and it’ll all stop.”
“No. No, I won’t give in. I won’t give up I know that now,” I say.
“Let go.”
“Hold on,” Ginny is standing next to Ian, she’s holding my feet. Her face is pale and there are burn marks on her arms. Where they electrocuted her. and there’s a scar on her head, where they cut it open to look at her brain. It’s stitched up with blue stitches but her hair is still shaved. And there’s blood on her hair and the stiches. From where they took her brain out so they could look at it and find out what made her so beautiful. “Quentin it’s okay, just hold on.”
“No, Ginny,” now I want to let go and scoop her up in my arms and put her on my shoulders and make her laugh like I should have done a million more times when I had the chance and I didn’t. I want to kiss the tear stains on her cheeks and tell her it’s all okay now. but the only reason I cling on is because she tells me too. Because we both know she’s not real.
“It’s okay Quentin hang on,” she says, “I’m okay you need to hang on.”
“Let go,” Ian whispers.
“Hold on. If he is in you so am I---and together we can hold on,” she says, she’s crying now because she knows my hands are slowly slipping, strangling myself.
“Just let it go. Your fingers hurt now it won’t be much longer anyway. nobody is coming to save you. they never come to save you,” he says.
“You don’t need them to save you. holding on is breaking you. let go with one hand. Get your knife. You’ll slip but you’ll still be able to breath. Get the knife and cut the rope,” Ginny says.
“It won’t work. you’ll die trying to get the knife and you’ll die slower. Let go with both hands. You’ll be okay,” he says, “You’ll come be with us, you miss us don’t you?”
“No, Quentin you have to try. you’ve got your life to live for all three of us you have to try. there will be a time when we’re together again, the real us, all three of us just like it was just like it should be but that time isn’t now go on, Quentin, get your knife cut yourself free,” Ginny pleads, desperately.
“Fall.”
“Try.”
“Fall, just let go. Let yourself fall. Fall to freedom,” Ian says.
“No,” I say, and I let go with one hand. The other one burns so much I can’t feel it and the noose tightens as I try to hold myself up. My free hand pulls the combat knife from my belt; swinging the large blade precariously over my head, I slash at the rope with my numb arm. I have no idea where it is and I’ve no idea how to cut it my arm is so sore from holding me up I can’t feel it anymore and my fingers ache and---
I drop the knife. I don’t even think I cut the rope. Desperately, I take hold of the loop around my neck and pull, tugging it up over my face. I don’t get it all the way but I do get it past my chin before my grip breaks and I fall.
The rope burns across my face, tightening, but with no chin to block it and gravity on my side, the noose tugs painfully across my face before finally releasing me to fall to the floor below.
Which isn’t there.
I fall.
Through the floor, away from the noose, the closet, all of it, into the hall below.
That really hurts, but it is nothing compared to how badly my arms are burning right now. and my fingers. And my neck hurts, and my face where the rope burned across it. and my knees and legs hurt where they hit the floor that hurts too. I hurt a lot.
Which means I’m not dead.
I actually start to sob, softly. So close, locked in the embrace with death, her fingers on my face her lips on mine and I broke free. The noose around my neck, my worst nightmare the stuff of my nightmares, a noose tightening around my neck, and I got free. I am free. I don’t have to fear it. I am free.
I can’t stop crying or even move as I lay there, the realization of how very alive I am and how very close to death I was all washing over me.
I don’t know how long it takes me to realize that somebody tried to kill me.
That was a trap. Set for me.
Who sets traps in my closet let me see?---oh yes only one person. Titus Card.
The murdering bastard.
And where might he be?
“Where’s Liesel?” so I thought that the way I would meet the woman who bore my child would be a little bit different. Not a lot. I mean I am an idiot. I accept that and move on. But I thought it would be more awkward and stupid and less panicked and short.
“What?” she asks, looking me up and down and realizing who I must be. we got numbers for tables where we were supposed to meet our cadets. She’s youngish, not much older than me, looks a lot like Liesel I suppose. Brown hair, brown eyes. simple, neat dress. Two little girls stand with her, sort of staring at me. I’m wearing a black collared shirt and a dark jacket and dark pants and my combat boots because clearly if I’m out of my uniform none of my fellow Spacemen will recognize and court martial me for my actions over the past couple of weeks. Like I said I am an idiot.
“She isn’t here?” I ask, looking around. No. the other cadets are out. Just no.
“No,” she says, and she sees the fear in my eyes and realizes I care and then suddenly the awkwardness is gone and she knows I love our daughter as well.
<
br /> “Shit, I have to go find her,” I say, and I turn around and run. She probably calls after me but I don’t bother to turn around. It is way---way---way too hard to explain and I need to find her. I have to find her.
“This is stupid he wouldn’t be down here he’s probably just hiding from his family,” I rationalize, feeling bad, “You should go up there your mom and dad will be there---”
“But Nolan is loose and if everything’s all right they’ll still be there after the ceremony,” Liesel says, as she and I go into the lift that leads to the energy room. there is a maze of boilers and power cells that give power to the training buildings. A few dozen meters above us, the families and flight school are preparing for our graduation into pilot training.
“Yeah, you’re right, let’s just have a quick look around,” I say.
“Leavitt? You’re still alive? King is crying over there that you tried to hang yourself, I was sending somebody to collect your body,” Thorn is really really concerned, as you can see. Well he’s been saying he’s heavily medicated his eyes are cloudy and his voice slow. So that could be what’s wrong with him. That or I did actually die and this is hell. That is so possible it’s not funny.
“Logan? Okay I need to go hit him he could have helped---no I’m fine, tell me—theoretically----if you were going to blow up this building how would you start?” I ask, rubbing my neck which is still sore but at this point I’m trying to spread the red marks and purple bruises so they aren’t so damn obvious and I don’t have to look at them for the next few weeks.
“The energy room, there are all sorts of supports and things under there---why?” he asks. We are standing outside the big assembly hall where we are supposed to find our families. I’ve been messaged a number, on my tablet, for what table to meet my mother at. I’m not going. I need to catch a murderer.
“Never mind—you might want to evacuate like everyone---just, you know, as a precaution,” I say, turning and running back towards the service lifts.
Darkside 2 Page 14
