“That’s a great speech, but what are you really going to do?”
“Pray very, very hard.”
“At least the barricades are keeping those vapor-crazed rioters out. Everyone is safe, for now.”
I looked again at the people being tossed around and torn apart. “Not them. Not the Omniscients that have been conned and drugged by the Lightning King, or whatever he calls himself. Not the Truands who got caught in the middle and are now getting slaughtered en masse.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it, so just let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my fault. Everything that happens in Jamestown is my responsibility.”
“That’s completely insane, and trust me, I know what insanity is. I’m inside the mind of woman whose conscience manifests itself as her ex-husband. That’s insanity.”
“God, I hate you so much.”
“If you spend your life holding the world on your shoulders, eventually, it will break you.”
“But there must be something I can do!”
“You can leave.”
My pistol shot out of my sleeve and was centered on his chest in half a heartbeat.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I sometimes forget how easy it is for me to sneak up on others.”
When the startled haze abated, I finally recognized the stranger. It was the same man who had come here the last time I saw Boris; the one with the haunting eyes.
“How did you get up here? There are six locked doors between the lobby and this rooftop.”
“I walked in,” he said, so casually that I felt stupid for asking. “But that’s not important.”
“Why are you here?”
He smiled. “That is a much more relevant question. I’m here to tell you that Jamestown is falling apart.”
“No, really?” I said, sarcastically and without thinking. It was almost like Fischer had hijacked my tongue. “Everything is under control. The city will not fall apart on my watch, so return to your home.”
“I think you misunderstand me. I’m not a concerned citizen, I’m an omen. Events are in motion, agents are at work and, within three years, Jamestown will be rubble.”
Crackpots came into my office at least once a month telling me how aliens were about to invade or the mole people were about to attack, but the cold and calm way this man spoke, made me almost want to believe him.
“This city will not fall. As President of Jamestown, I promise that that will not happen.”
I could hear Fischer groaning at my canned response.
“You conviction is the reason I want to save you. The people of this city are pampered and fickle, and you won’t be the only leader to find that out. Please, consider leaving.”
“I won’t abandon them.”
“You can feel free to save as many as you can, but you won’t be able to save everyone.”
“Then that’s not good enough,” I said, as I put my pistol away. “My city isn’t falling apart anytime soon, so you can just get off my building, before I have you thrown you off.”
“Your’s isn’t the only exodus in the works. Jamestown will fall, I assure you of that, but hundreds of lives are in your hands. Do the right thing, Madam President. Put your pride aside and prepare to evacuate.”
He walked back out the door with a stride so confident I could have sworn he was the leader of Jamestown, not me. I looked back out over the Sunset District and I said to myself, “How dare anyone proclaim themselves to be a king in my city? And now a man insults me and says I can’t protect my people? How dare they!”
“Paige, none of this is your fault. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should consider leaving.”
“Never. The people here are loyal to me, and only me. They’ll realize that and fall into line, eventually.”
My pistol extended from my sleeve once again. I always felt in control when the cold steel was in my hands. I ran my fingers over the engraving, “Dedrod.” My father had had the assassin’s weapon specially ordered for me thirty years ago, and had even taught me how to shoot. He believed it was important for a future leader to know how to defend herself.
"Things will go back to normal, right?"
"I'm just your conscience. Any answer I give you will be what you already know."
He was right. I did already know what I needed to do, so I decided to change my tactics for dealing with the fall of the Sunset District, and decided to make a few other changes as well.
Chapter 33 - Rae Johnson
It had been several days since we’d returned, but all of us were still shaken by what had happened in the Sunset District; especially Vera. She was so upset that she had barely left the house, so I decided to take her somewhere that I knew would make her feel better.
The creaking of the front door was both annoying and oddly comforting. It made me remember how much I hated it when I was younger, but, at the same time, made me feel like a kid again.
“Who’s at the door?” said a voice from the kitchen.
“It’s me, mom.”
She popped her head out before running to hug me.
“Oh, my little Raincloud, it’s so good to see you. Why don’t you visit more often?”
“I came by a week ago.”
“Well, you should come and see your poor mother more than once a week. That’s not nearly enough."
“Sorry, mom. Oh and I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend.” I turned and looked back at the door. Vera peeked in, her black hood still pulled tightly around her head.
Hesitantly, she stepped inside. I closed the door and reached to pull her hood down, but she stopped me.
"You shouldn't-"
“I already told you, they won’t care.”
She still had a lot of worry in her eyes, but she did let me take down the hood.
“Oh my goodness. Dear, I haven’t seen one of your kind in years.” Vera, once again, tried to put the hood back up, but my mother took it down. “Stop worrying. Rainy is right, I have no problem with Homo Sapiens.”
“I’m sorry for being so paranoid. You just can’t be too careful these days.”
“That dialect… you’re a Truand aren’t you?”
I smiled when Vera looked at me, utter surprise on her face. “How did you know?”
“I spent years living with the Truands. Come with me.” She motioned for us to follow her as she stepped into another room.
“I told you not to worry,” I whispered to Vera under my breath.
“Yeah, I guess you were right, Raincloud," she said, snidely. “What a great nickname.”
“Actually… that’s my legal name.”
“Seriously?” She smiled even wider, and tried to hold in her laughter. “I’m totally going to start calling you that.”
"Please, just stick with Rae."
Mom opened the door to her library. The tiny room was crammed not only with books, but also with enough paintings to fill every inch of wall space, and several trunks.
“Did you make these?”
“Some of them. I was quite the artist back in my day. Jamestown used to be a very cultured city, before all the drugs and politics. I actually used to be a government archivist, and spent years studying everything about the Truands."
"She was one of the first Homo Omniscients to step foot in the Court of Myracell," I told her, bragging a little about how cool my mom was.
Vera stared intently at a painting of the Presidential District, with its archaic brown buildings of stone and brick. “That’s amazing.”
“It's just a bunch of buildings.”
The voice was unexpected, but I recognized the bitter tone instantly.
“Hello, dad.”
He was standing in the doorway, his usual blank stare still cemented to his face.
“The real world is a lot more ugly than in that painting.”
“Albert, leave us alone and go check on the food.”
He did as she said.
“I’m so sorry about my husband,” mom told Vera. “He doesn’t have much appreciation for the arts.”
“Maybe I should just leave.”
“Nonsense, you’ll stay and have dinner with us.”
“Are you sure you want me in the house?”
“Of course I’m sure. It’s my damn house, after all. You’re going to stay and have dinner with us, but first I have one more thing to show you.”
Mom went to an old chest sitting in a corner. After entering a six-digit combination into the lock and removing the chain that further held it secure, she pulled out one of the several paintings inside. None of them had frames, and the wood that held some of them together seemed to be falling apart.
“I went through hell and back again to get this piece,” she said, as she unwrapped it from the plastic cover.
I remembered her showing me this painting, when I was younger. I had always thought it was beautiful, but, when Vera saw it, her eyes went wide, like it was the most amazing piece of art she had seen in her life. The painting was of a woman, laced in blue and with hair like green flame. Her arms were outstretched and traced in shimmering crystals, yet, even with how beautiful, elegant, and goddess-like she was, her gaze was comforting and she seemed almost motherly.
“Myracell…” Vera whispered, a tear running down her cheek.
“Are you ok?” I asked her.
“I’d almost forgotten how much I miss her.”
Mom put her hand on Vera’s shoulder. “Keep the painting. You should have something to remind you of your people.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. Don’t you know how much this is worth?”
“I do, which is why I want to pass it on to someone who understands its value. I know you’ll take care of it.”
The tender moment was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Dinner is ready.”
Vera carefully rewrapped the painting and sat it by the front door, where she wouldn’t forget it.
As we passed through the doorway, I walked right by my father, who still didn’t seem anxious to speak.
“I’m glad you’re here, dad.”
“Where else would I be?” he said, completely monotone.
I walked away before he could see the tears start to well up in my eyes, rushing past him to get to the dinner table.
“Rainy, what happened?”
“Nothing, mom.” She must have seen how upset I was. She always had a sixth sense when it came to things like that.
“Is your father being as ass again? Oh, you know he loves you. He just has a hard time showing it.”
“I know.”
“It’s just because of his old police training. He always tries to act tough on the outside.”
“Can we just eat now?” I asked, frustrated by her questions.
She didn’t say anything to me, just moved several bowls and plates to the table in silence.
“Albert Johnson!” she shouted to him when he didn’t show up. “Quit brooding and get in here.”
He came in a moment later and sat down across from me.
“Can you pass the potatoes, Lexi.”
“Sure.” Mom grabbed the bowl. “But first, don’t you have something to say to your daughter?”
“Nope.” He took the bowl from her hands without a second word.
“Rainy, are you still seeing that handsome doctor?”
“No, mom. We’re just friends now.”
“Oh, you can never be just friends with an old lover. You should get back together with him. Your father always liked him; right, Albert?”
“I don’t like anyone who’s plowing my daughter.”
“Albert!”
“What the hell, dad? Why are you always such a dick?”
“I’m trying to teach you to toughen up. The world isn’t a pretty place, Rae.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Don’t I? You and your friends have been running around, stirring up trouble all over the place. And now, you’ve been stealing food from the government? How dumb are you?”
“We’re trying to help people, dad!”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes! We’re giving out food and medicine to help people. Most of the people here didn’t have it as good as I did, and I want to make sure everyone gets a fair chance. I’m trying to help everyone, just like you taught me.”
We sat there for a long time, just looking at each other. It was yet another in a long line of fights between us. When I was younger this happened almost every day.
He pushed out his chair and got up from the table, before walking around to me.
“Stand up.”
I did so, ready to apologize if he was angry, but, before I could, he wrapped me up in the biggest warmest hug he had ever given me.
“I was always proud of you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I hugged him back, smiling as I did.
“I love you dad.”
“I love you too.”
“Does this mean you’ll be ok with meeting my next boyfriend?”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
Chapter 34 - Scott Vale
I walked down the now expanded catwalk system that linked the two walls of the Gray District. We’d found a couple of welders who offered to improve the walkways in exchange for first choice of the supplies we’d stolen. Moving through the district was a lot easier now, but we still didn’t have a steady source of food. However, I still felt proud of our accomplishments. Problems like these needed to be tackled one at a time.
And speaking of problems, I saw another of mine throwing up over a railing.
“Jack, you look like shit.”
“I’m fine, boss,” he said, slurring his words. “Just a little sick.”
“You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off, but I don’t ever want to see you drunk while on guard duty again. Got it?”
“Sure thing, Vale.” Surprisingly, he seemed genuinely regretful. “What was her name?”
I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “I told you already, it’s not important.”
“Stop being such a hardass and tell me her name!” he shouted.
I grabbed him by his collar, pulling him close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Go home, Jack.”
He fell back on his ass after I released him, but ran home as soon as he was on his feet.
We’d all been hit pretty hard by the events in the Sunset District and we’d all found ways of dealing with it. Jack had been drinking more than ever, Vera barely left her house, except to see Rae, who seemed to be doing the best out of any of us, and Tex disappeared whenever he wasn’t on duty. The whole situation was just shit.
“You ok, sir?” asked a Black Jacket, standing guard outside a tin shack.
“Fine. What’s your name?”
“Shoan.”
“Alright, Shoan, how has your shift been? Is Nearly holding up ok?”
“Well, he's fucking crazy, but I think he was that way when he got here. All he's been doing is drawing on the walls and talking to himself all day. We brought him a chalk board, and when he filled that up we gave him an entire stack of pencils and paper, but he won't stop marking up the walls. I don’t think we’ll be able to stop him, without tying him up.”
“I’ll talk to him. Thank you, Shoan.”
She unlocked the door. The twisted metal man didn’t even seem to notice me as I walked inside. He was too busy using a black marker to scribble on the walls, each of which was packed to the brim with his drawings.
The first picture was covered in shapes, and drawn partly on the chalk board and partly on the wall. There was a line of triangles traveling all the way across it, near the top, and a sea of squiggly lines on the left side, with huge blank areas flanking that, along with other assorted figures. The second wall had circles, hexagons and connecting lines covering most of the surface, and tiny, b
ut surprisingly detailed, English and Greek letters drawn in the gaps. Bits of paper had been tacked up on the third wall, and then been drawn over, as if he had needed to correct a mistake. This one was also covered in circles and lines, but also tiny dots, and was void of any of the letters that appeared on the second wall. He was halfway done with the fourth when I walked in.
“Nearly? Are you ok, buddy?”
“I’m fine,” he told me, his voice eerie and mechanical.
“You know, we brought you those papers so that you wouldn’t have to draw on the walls anymore.”
“Not large enough. I need a bigger canvas.”
"Was the chalk board not big enough?"
"No."
“Ok then. I suppose we can always clean them later.”
“You believe my drawings are strange,” he said, stating it as a fact. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
"Of course I do," I thought to myself.
“Of course I don’t," I said out loud.
“You’re lying. Now that father is gone, no one will ever understand me.”
“Your father?”
“Yes, Frollo. The King in Lights killed him.”
“Frollo was your father?”
“Did I not make that clear?” he said, getting fed up with me. “Go away, I need to keep working. They're still speaking to me.”
I turned around, ready to leave the angry little contraption alone, but something caught my eye. In the first picture, drawn on the chalkboard, deep inside a mass of curved lines, I saw something…
“Everything alright?” I heard, as the door creaked open.
“Shoan, come here.”
She walked over to me. “Yes, sir?”
“What does this drawing look like? The entire wall, I mean.”
“Um… there’s a spot at the bottom that looks like ocean waves.”
“And what about this spot?”
“Curvy lines?”
“It’s a forest.”
Between the lines, I saw a shape that told me exactly what Nearly had drawn on this wall; and that shape was a tiny keyhole.
“This is Jamestown, outside of that is the forest, and the rest is a map of… well, everything.”
Black Light: The Deplorable Savior Page 13
