They entered, and after their identities and weapons were cleared, they proceeded to the fourth floor. Corwin's door was guarded by two men who looked like either could take Ethan in a fight, she judged merely by their stature. Each was armed with a rifle in hand, and a pistol at their belt. One of the guards knocked on the door, and received permission to open it.
“Ethan,” greeted the commanding officer, putting aside his pen and paper and rising. “And Mercy. Pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you, sir.” She smiled. She liked his uniform, particularly how it fit him perfectly and was clean like it was just made. Corwin wore it with pride. He was Ethan's height, and shared the same dark shade of brown hair. He wore a serious face, also like Ethan, but didn't look nearly so miserable. He must have been no less than ten years older. His straight posture noticeably contrasted Ethan's slight hunch.
“Please, sit.” She waited until Ethan did. “What do you have for me?” he asked Ethan.
“A cathedral on Davis Street,” said Ethan. “That's where Marcus resides and from where he sends his orders. He keeps his top youth weapons there, too.” Mercy wondered if Ethan had ever even trusted the commander with knowledge of Theia. It didn't seem that he knew, though there was no way to tell. “He doesn't keep guards outside the building; not on the roof, nor patrolling the streets. You'd never guess he has the building.”
The Lt. Col. was nodding as Ethan spoke. “Did you get out safely?” he asked Mercy.
“Yes,” she said. “Then we took an … alternate route.”
“Good to see you made it out in one piece. Alright then, Ethan. I appreciate the information.” The commander stood; a way to signal that Ethan and Mercy were being dismissed. “We'll investigate it from here.”
“Sir...” began Ethan, regaining Corwin's attention. “This man has my daughter. Move as quickly as you can.”
“I will do what I can, Ethan. Don't forget, you're not the only parent whose child is a hostage there. We will do what we can.”
Ethan thanked him. Mercy shook his hand, though Ethan didn't, and they proceeded out of the room.
The two observed the activity in the northwest district for a moment. Mercy turned to Ethan. “Is there anywhere I can get something to eat?”
“At Montgomery Park over there.” Ethan gestured toward the taller building just down the street. Mercy saw it easily. “You can get a bath there, too.”
Mercy smiled. “I'd love that.”
They entered the luxurious white building with ease. Mercy felt like she stepped into the world she had once known before. People were dressed well, dining, laughing and playing games. About a quarter of those inside were in uniform, but no one held a rank. There were no minorities or groups. Everyone was equal. Everyone was one people.
A few troops were stationed at the front desk, answering calls and providing information. Mercy approached them and asked where an available room was. She was told that any room with a 'vacant' sign was free to them.
They found themselves a place on the second floor. Though the building was meant for office space and not as a hotel, the room Mercy picked was merely a wide-open conference room with a capacity of about twenty people. It could work as a hotel for now, she thought. She went to the window panels while Ethan found himself a place to sit. It was almost a panoramic view of Portland, providing view of the greater city. The hills to her right, the east side of the river to her left, and downtown straight ahead.
She called for Ethan to join her. “What do you think?”
“It's a nice view,” he said. He did not appear to be even remotely interested, but his answer was truthful – it was a pleasant view.
“Big Pink,” she said looking toward downtown. “That's about where we were, isn't it?” Ethan affirmed. “It's also about where we'll be going next, too, isn't it?”
“Tyson never said anything about us going with them.”
“I know. But I know you wouldn't sit this out for anything.” She faced Ethan. “You're going back there. You're going to wait until they show up, because you don't trust them to rescue Theia in the first try.”
“There's only going to be one try. I overheard troops at Corwin's base: they'll strike before dawn.” She noted that he didn't deny any of what she said.
“You're going to have to trust them, Ethan. They'll save Theia. If you're there, you'll only get in the way.”
“Marcus will always do whatever it takes to survive. He's a Solomon. I was raised hearing about that clan, and their surviving members. Isaac will do the same.”
“Isaac isn't fit for battle,” said Mercy. “He won't be able to order and scheme his way out of capture.” She spoke more intimately to Ethan. “You've given them everything they need to know. Let them handle this.” Ethan said nothing. He appeared to be contemplating.
Mercy had eaten downstairs with many of the others in the building, conversing casually with them, acclimating herself while Ethan remained in the room. By the time night fell, she had eaten her fill. The excessive weight in her stomach was a pleasurable soreness. She heard many stories of survival in the city, and all over the country, that made her stomach churn, but everyone else was used to that by now. Some even found ways to be humorous about it. It felt like a family gathering to her. She had her own memories and experiences to exchange with everyone she spoke to. Despite the enjoyment she had at her table, her mind remained on Ethan and this daughter of his. She eventually excused herself from the table and returned upstairs.
She found Ethan still at the windows, staring out toward downtown. “You're not dead, you know,” she told him, remaining a few feet behind him.
“'Dead' is subjective,” he replied.
“Then, by your meaning of the word, are you dead?” He said nothing. “How old is your daughter?”
“Eleven,” he said, and Mercy thought she saw a smile forming. Theia was the only subject Ethan enjoyed discussing. “She was born on July tenth a minute after midnight. That was a beautiful day.”
Beautiful, huh? “And what kind of child did she become?”
“More beautiful. Smart and strong, with a good heart. I could tell early on that she was born to be a leader. So, I raised her to be just that. Or, tried. There's a lot you need to know as a leader.”
“What did you teach her?”
“To be everything I'm not. To love others no matter who they are or what they do, that there is nothing more important than love. I did teach her to fight,” he added, turning to face Mercy, “but solely as a means of self-defense.”
“Is she a skilled fighter for her age?”
“Absolutely. And it's not solely fighting she excels at. It's … anything she puts her mind to.”
Mercy smiled, staring at Ethan. The lights of the area provided a dazzling view behind him, though far beyond in downtown it was nearly completely dark. She saw Ethan's life; his essence. It was only visible when he talked about Theia. His love for her was like the love she had for Haley. His daughter seemed to be the only soul he had left. She understood his request finally. He knew what he was. He never denied it, not to himself, and not to her. Since they first met, and likely long before, he accepted what he was. Apart from the love for Theia she saw in Ethan, she could see the shame he bore in feeling he was an inadequate father. He loves Theia with all his heart, she saw. He wants to keep her... But he values her life more. Her happiness... Her well-being...
“Yes,” said Mercy.
“Yes, what?”
“I'll take care of her. One condition, though, Ethan.” She stepped up to him. “My condition is that this is temporary. You find a way to fix all you've done wrong. Rid yourself of everything you know will hurt Theia, both in yourself, and with all your ...connections. That's my condition.”
“And if I can't fulfill that condition?”
Mercy didn't know what to reply. Ethan merely lowered his head, appearing to suffer all over again.
“I should sleep...” he said. “Too much in my head.�
��
Mercy nodded. “I understand.”
With that, Ethan abruptly left her. She watched him as he found a place on the floor to sleep, despite there being a bed a few steps away.
She pitied him. She had never met such an enigma before, but one truth was certain: Ethan was not a bad person. Not once had he offered to explain his past, whether recent or distant. Mercy had failed to ever ask him, also. A large part of her didn't want the details. Perhaps it didn't matter, or maybe I'm trying to be ignorant so that I can believe something I know might not be true. Ethan was a good person, but that person was buried, desperately struggling to return to the surface. He would disappear when she took Theia under her wing, but that wouldn't be the last she would see of him. She swore this to herself, even if Ethan chose not to uphold his end of the deal.
Mercy quietly removed her shoes, then lied down beside Ethan. She desired to wrap an arm around him, but refrained. Though he'd never react with violence, he likely never cared for her anymore than he had when he first met her. She saw him as a person now; a person with emotions and weaknesses. She knew it was there all this time.
Sometime later, as the sky shifted from black to a very faint blue, Mercy felt an incisive chill enveloping her skin. It woke her abruptly. Beside her, there was nothing but space. She leaned up, scanning the room, but still found nothing. It was useless to search.
He was gone. Against her importune advice, he was gone...
SETH
The city was quiet that night. Peering out over the concrete landscape, he could see a shadow of what was to come: a land ruled by a single entity, with their own order and laws, as it was before. Should I be okay with that? He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what to believe. Inexcusable, irreparable harm had been committed by both sides. But that’s war, he thought. Above all, he wished at least to know which side was at fault for the war in the first place. Maybe there isn’t a right answer. Maybe it’s just human nature.
Crows were flocking, squawking boisterously in the distance, imperceptible from his vantage point. He thought, At least they’re getting along. Then, he realized: Only the worst people thrive in the worst situations. To his shame, he realized he was one of those people. Much closer to a demon than an angel.
He could only hope the days to come would usher in the end of the suffering that had consumed the city, and the rest of the country. I don’t even know if the rest of America is any better off than we are… Portland could be the last to recover, or the first. He further pondered, This crisis may be a step toward making the world a better place. Regardless, only one fact remained: he was guilty. All I’ve done…, he thought. Even if I get away clean, I have to live with my actions. These memories… Some had kept their virtue, and their honor, like Mercy. He envied those people. He envied the innocence of children.
He envied Theia.
So much hope, yet deep brokenness, was in her eyes, he recalled. She doesn’t know where her parents are. Sounds much worse than knowing they’re dead, because at least she would know.
Seth’s thoughts shifted to his own family.
Maybe it isn’t better to know they’re dead… His feelings, which he had desperately tried to bury for so long, returned in full.
“A girl,” he remembered the physician informing them. Kristen couldn’t have been more thrilled, but Seth had a silent, restrained reaction. He could see, and more so feel, Kristen’s sadness toward his silence. When they had arrived back home, at the creaking old apartment it was, Kristen politely excused herself to be alone. Seth recalled how that made him feel. He knew Kristen was excited, but she didn’t know that he was. In truth, he felt no dread, only fear. Fear that becoming a father could be a mistake. He didn’t know how to convey it to her. His apprehension must have been weakness. A real man would have the confidence and knowledge of what to do next, he believed.
He had simply chosen not to speak his mind, terrified to admit his feelings to his woman. He wanted to be a father to their child. He wanted more than a relationship with Kristen, he wanted to be her man. With rent always behind, their electricity often shut off, and having to take public transit everywhere for lack of a car, the last thing he could admit was that he didn’t feel ready to support the one thing Kristen always wanted. Better to say he would find a way, but he couldn’t promise that either.
Seth remembered everything about her. Sitting on the rooftop that night, staring out at the remnant of the city, he closed his eyes and came back to life. He could smell her hair, listen to her laugh, touch her skin… He even missed seeing her walk, and the freckles on her cheeks.
Opening his eyes, he returned to reality, where she was absent; never to be seen again. “What’s left?” he asked himself.
“Kristen?” he said to her, stepping into their room. His lover lifted her head, setting down her book of baby names. He cut straight to the point. “I want this to be the start of something new. Something, you know … completely different.” He had made his decision, even if he couldn’t yet promise it.
“Yeah?” she said, smiling. “A new life?” Her smile brightened.
Seth looked at her belly, delightfully observing the small bump that it was. He crouched down, crawling across the floor, making Kristen chuckle. Sitting behind her, he lifted her shirt until it rested above her belly, and wrapped his arms around their newborn. “Yes. A whole new life.”
“Let’s do it,” she said, leaning her head back to kiss him.
Seth realized he was staring at the black sky. His mind returned to the desolation in which he resided. However, it didn’t extinguish the memories. Cries, flames, gunfire, blood… He had watched the light leave her eyes. Right there, mere feet away… I killed her. I killed my daughter, who didn’t even have a name. Their deaths came only two weeks after he had made his pledge to his family.
He was still alive, but he could hardly call it living. While he continued to breathe, Seth understood he had a chance to right his wrongs, even if he could not reverse them. There was a child, sleeping somewhere below. A little girl who longed to be reunited with her family. A family she may never see again. She was special to Marcus, she was respected by her peers, and yet, she was alone.
Seth made his decision right then…
Climbing down the tower, getting back inside the church, he made his way to the halls. He sought Theia. Once he reached the doors of the sanctuary, he realized he would not find her there. It didn’t matter because what followed seized his attention:
“Sir! Report!” called a man running into the building after the guards had let him in.
Marcus was not far away. The boss shot Seth a brief glance before approaching the messenger. “What?”
“They’re onto us,” said the messenger, catching his breath. “They’re closing in fast, and I mean fast!”
Marcus’ eyes widened. “Fuck!” He turned to his present men. “Call in everyone. Secure the perimeter, like we arranged. Have everyone out front.”
“Everyone, boss?” asked one of his men.
“Everyone.”
Like a swarm of flies, Seth saw the men scramble frantically. They shouted orders at each other, and at their juvenile underlings. The sanctuary doors opened; its occupants were forced onto their feet and brought out. Guns, knives, and machetes were being forced into their small hands as the men dragged them outside. Seth ran to find Theia.
He didn’t call for her by name, so that no one could hear. Identifying her among a horde of faces proved frustrating, and nearly impossible. Having only recently met her, he strained to even remember her face. But he found her in time, just as she followed the other kids to the outside. She was one of the rest now, devoid of rank, which was fortunate, because he could now get her out unnoticed. “Theia!” She turned and found him. “This way!”
Without hesitation, she went with him. Seth intended to escape the fight before getting trapped in the midst of it. He led them to a back door, but while half of Marcus’ people were out there with t
hem, so was an entire army battalion. He ran for cover, pulling Theia forcefully close. The kids were being used to shield the adults, who were already firing at the enemy. Seth found cover behind a demolished car. It wasn’t far, but was safe for the moment.
“Keep low,” he told Theia. She obeyed. He took her weapon, a pump-action shotgun that looked too large for her in the first place, since he have time to attain his own. Without intent to shoot, he fixed his aim on the troops, should they fire upon him first. Theia was hyperventilating, covering her ears, and seeming to try not to scream. “We’ll be fine. They won’t hurt us,” he told her, though she likely didn’t hear. “As long as we don’t try to hurt them, we’ll be safe.”
The troops frightfully outnumbered their side. And worse, a second wave approached, equal in size to the first, closing in fast. Every soldier aimed precisely and methodically, firing on the adults who barked orders behind the youth. Witnessing this, Seth assumed Marcus was already dead. Before long, the kids had too few leaders to maintain organization, and they began to scatter, screaming in panic, running in every direction.
“Shit!” shouted Seth.
He took Theia’s hand again and ran her back toward the church. Defeat was inevitable.
“What are you doing? You said they can’t hurt us!”
“I was wrong. They’re going to kill us. But… I don’t know. Shit!” He forcefully pushed through the crowd and returned to the inside. He heard Marcus ordering they get back to the battle. Seth pulled Theia aside for only a moment. “We can’t trust anyone, understand?” Theia nodded.
Isaac was one of several who never left the fortress. Seth saw fear in his boss’ eyes, and in Marcus’. Seth knew what they knew: it was over for them. If they would survive, imprisonment or even execution awaited them. Isaac appeared far more determined than Marcus, who was stumbling backward like a drunk, accepting his fate. Isaac seized a gun from a frightened child. “Men,” he said. “We’re walking out of here.”
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