Maelstrom

by Nadia Scrieva

  “Cutting it kind of close to zero hour, aren’t you, Viso?” she asked in annoyance.

  Visola moved forward and grabbed the spare helmet, tugging it down over her head. She slid onto the bike beyond the princess and wrapped her arms around Yamako’s waist. The princess sighed, replaced her own helmet, and gunned the bike forward.

  Resting her cheek against Yamako’s back, Visola fought back her tears as she thought about the movie she had just seen. She thought about the dedication, and felt her stomach contort in pain and yearning. When they stopped at a stoplight, Yamako glanced back over her shoulder at Visola.

  “Just what the hell is wrong with you?” Yamako asked. “Do you really want to get killed?”

  Visola sniffled. “He made a movie for me. It was so beautiful, Yama.”

  Yamako growled and blasted her bike directly through the red light. She continued driving forward at an exorbitant speed, weaving in and out of traffic and refusing to stop for anything. Within a few minutes, they had reached the water, where a speedboat was waiting to take them out to their submarine. Ripping her helmet off as they climbed into the boat, the princess put her hands on her hips, with the helmet resting under the crook of her arm. The boat began to speed off into the darkness of the night.

  “You miss him,” Yamako said simply. “You miss your kids. I know you do. Let’s just go home.”

  Visola nodded. “I guess, I am growing… tired of this.”

  “We have accomplished a lot,” Princess Yamako said. “You wanted to teach them a lesson?” She gestured toward the beautifully lit skyline. “In a few minutes, they’re going to learn a lesson they’ll never forget. You’re changing the world, Visola. For better or worse—there is going to be a change. This isn’t just about us anymore. This is about all of humanity. You’re making a mark on the human race.”

  Visola gazed at the city, with worry and wonder. The dizzying lights reflected off the water, and in her emerald eyes. “I hope something good comes of this,” she said softly. “I hope they do learn.”

  “They will. Maybe they’ll learn to show more respect to their fellow men. Maybe they’ll learn that all human beings are part of the same family, whether we were born in the east or west. Maybe they’ll learn that we all deserve to live, whether we were born at land or sea.” Yamako grinned. “Or maybe they’ll just learn not to fuck with us.”

  “We’re here,” said the pilot of the boat.

  “Great,” Yamako said. “Let’s swim down to the sub.”

  “Wait,” Visola said, grabbing her arm. “Can we watch?”

  Yamako frowned. “The only way we can be safe from the radiation is to be deep underwater in the sub.”

  “I want to feel it,” Visola whispered. “I want to feel the explosion on my face. I want to see the mushroom cloud.”

  Yamako rolled her eyes. “How did I know you were going to say that?” She turned to the driver of the speedboat. “Haruki! Take us as far away from the shore as you can.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  “If you want to swim down to the submarine, I don’t mind,” Visola told her. “I just want to see it.”

  “We’re in this together,” Yamako told her. She fished around in the speedboat storage compartments. “Besides—I thought you were going to say that, so I stuck some special sunglasses in here along with some champagne. Ah! Here we go.” Princess Yamako pulled out the aluminized, eclipse-watching sunglasses which they could use to look at the blast without going blind. She handed a pair to Visola, and placed another pair on top of her head, before quickly getting to work on opening the bottle of champagne. She popped the cork and poured a glass for Visola. She turned to the driver. “Haruki, would you like some?”

  “Don’t mind if I do!” he responded.

  She smiled and gave him a glass, before pouring one for herself. She lounged on the seat of the boat, and glanced at her watch. “Oh, that’s perfect timing. We’re really close.”

  Visola sat down on the other side of the boat. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and was suddenly unsure of whether she had made the right decision. She thought of all those lovely people in the movie theatre.

  “No regrets, Viso,” Princess Yamako said, noticing the look on her friend’s face. “Don’t get soft on me now.”

  “No regrets,” Visola agreed. “It’s just—overwhelming.”

  “Okay! Here we go,” said the princess, tugging down her sunglasses. “Final ten seconds.”

  “Should we count down?” Visola asked, her heart racing in anticipation. She placed her own sunglasses on her face with a wavering hand.

  “Sure. Five, four, three…”

  “Two, one…”

  When the bomb hit Los Angeles, the explosion was deafening. The city was far on the horizon now and very small, but they could still see the brilliant flash of light and the mushroom cloud ballooning up into the air.

  “Happy new year!” Princess Yamako shouted.

  Visola laughed lightly, leaning over to clink her glass against Yamako’s. “For Sionna,” she said softly.

  “For Sio,” said the princess, lifting the glass to her lips as they felt the heat and wind from the explosion waft over their faces. She drank deeply, and turned back to look at the city. “I hope that wherever she is, she knows how much we love her.”

  Chapter 18: Ringing the Bell

  Vachlan was lying in the bell tower of a church on the Diomede Islands. It was one of the tallest points in the island, and he had begun coming here now and then to sit with a gun and watch over the city. Of course, that was not the only reason. There was something about the atmosphere of the Church of Sedna’s Sorrow that beckoned him lately. He had never been much of a praying man, but he had exhausted all other potential courses of action. He felt helpless, and alone, and he liked to think that there were greater forces in the world that protected people. How else could he explain the victory in keeping Diomede City? By his every calculation and estimation, they should have been crushed; but at the last moment, a miracle.

  He had never much believed in miracles, but after that battle, it was impossible to think that anything was impossible. That was why he had gone after Visola to tell her about his plan. That was why he had tried to make a movie to show her the way he wanted their story to end. He had really thought that he could reach her and bring her back home. He stared up at the large bell contemplatively. There was really nothing more that he imagined he could do, other than wait. He was not a big fan of waiting.

  Dawn was just starting to break, and the sky was being painted with little splashes of color. Vachlan was staring up at it in wonder when he heard a scuffling on the side of the bell tower. He frowned and sat up to examine the situation, but before he could move, he was already being pinned to the ground.

  “I hate you,” she said, slapping him in the face. “How could you do that to me? I hate you.”

  Vachlan beamed from ear to ear. “You saw the movie! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “You bastard,” Visola said, slapping him again. “That stuff about my father was personal. I told you in confidence, and you shared it with everyone.”

  Vachlan relaxed on the floor, staring up at her with sublime happiness. “You came home,” he said softly. “You came home to me.”

  “And you put our kids in the movie? Are you insane? That’s cheap, Vachlan. That’s low. Why would you do that to me?” Visola looked down at him with a wavering anger on her face. Her voice was beginning to falter. “Vachlan? Are you crying? Don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry.”

  He sat up abruptly and wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her chest. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  She closed her eyes and hugged him back, running her hands over his dark hair. She sat there, comfortably in his lap, for several minutes. When she opened her eyes to place a kiss on his forehead, she noticed a streak of silver. “Oh,” she murmured, running her fingers along the strands. “What’s this?” />
  “You’ve been giving me grey hairs, woman.” He pulled away and looked at her with an accusation on his face. “It’s not conducive to my health, stressing over you like this.”

  Her lips began to curl. She reached up to push a lock of her own red hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to brush her lips against his. “Let me make it better,” she said teasingly as she began to remove his shirt. “Let’s do something good for your health.”

  Vachlan did not need to be offered twice, before he slipped his hands under Visola’s thighs and rose to his feet, lifting her off the ground. He slammed her body back into the wall of the bell tower, and crushed his lips against hers.

  She continued to remove his shirt as he kissed her, rubbing her hands over his shoulders and back to feel the familiar bulges of his muscles. He deposited her legs on the ground for a moment so that he could slide her pants off, and pressed his face against her stomach, trailing kisses against her scars. She closed her eyes, enjoying the tenderness of his touch. When Vachlan stood up, he unbuckled the front of his pants and pushed them down, before pressing himself against Visola. He reached down to lift her body again, and she helped by putting her arms around his shoulders.

  Pushing her back against the wall, he shoved himself inside her without warning. He heard her gasp a little in surprise. He kissed her, biting her bottom lip and tugging on it gently. Placing another kiss on her chin, he paused for a moment, holding her very still and observing her face.

  “Vachlan,” she moaned impatiently, pushing her body against his. “Please.”

  He obliged her. He thrust himself inside her again and again, until she cried out. He found that there was too much passion to hold back, and he could not seem to stop moving. He felt almost crazed with the desire that had gone unsatisfied for far too long. He felt her fingers digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer. He heard her whispering words, but he could not quite understand what they were.

  Finally, he felt Visola remove her legs from where they were gripped around him, and push him away. He fell back against the large brass bell of the tower, accidentally making it ring. Visola giggled at the loud noise as she moved forward, and dragged him slightly away from the bell. She sat down on top of him, wrapping her legs around him again.

  “Slower,” she whispered, touching his face. She kissed him and let her fingers trace along his jaw, and over his neck.

  He nodded, reaching up to grasp her ribcage. He lifted and lowered her on him, slowly, while she gyrated her hips. Visola arched her back and moaned. She moved against him until she felt herself approaching climax, and her breathing became terse.

  “I’m close,” she told him.

  “Good,” he responded with a growl. He continued to move her body at the same tempo, and only when he felt her muscles contracting around him did he increase the speed. Listening to her moan, and feeling her body shudder was all he needed to find his own release. He pressed his lips against her neck, tasting the thin film of sweat that had developed there. He sighed.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” he warned her. “I’ll go insane.”

  She leaned against him, her body suddenly weak and drained. She smiled in contentment. “You left me first. You already drove me insane, and brought this upon yourself.”

  “I did,” he agreed, running his fingers through her red curls, and letting them get tangled up in the messy knots. He gazed up at the dawn sky which had grown brighter in the past few minutes. “I was praying for you, before you showed up. I didn’t know what else to do. Who knew that praying worked so well?”

  Visola chuckled, causing her torso to shake gently under his hands. “It wasn’t your prayers, silly. It was your movie.”

  Vachlan held her even tighter. “The kids need to know you’re back. They need to know now.”

  “They will,” she told him, kissing his temple. “I just wanted to see you first. I just needed you.”

  “I needed you more.” He rubbed his hand over her back absentmindedly. “Oh, Viso. We’ll have to take you to Aazuria, too. She’s going to be so happy. Trevain and Callder were worried, too.” He paused. “Can you do me a really weird favor?”

  “Sure,” Visola said, wiggling closer to him. “You know I like doing weird things.”

  He smiled. “Except this is not for me. Dr. Dylan Rosenberg has been going through something difficult. I don’t know how to help him. Tomorrow, when you see him, can you give him a hug, maybe a kiss? I think he needs to see the difference between a living, breathing woman, and a lifeless, frozen memory.”

  Visola pulled away from Vachlan and examined him carefully. “You’re pimping me out,” she finally accused, “for the emotional health of your friend. I guess I never realized that it was the duty of an identical twin—when your sister dies, you inherit all her lovers, and have to sleep with them to ease their pain.”

  Vachlan narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean to say that…”

  “Yeah. Princess Yamako.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about that later,” Vachlan said in wonder.

  Visola smiled. “I wonder if I had died… would you have turned to Sionna for comfort?”

  “Absolutely,” Vachlan said. “She was great at pretending to be you.”

  “Oh!” Visola said, her eyes widening as an idea struck her. She snapped her fingers. “Oh! I have something that will make Dylan feel better. In the old palace near Limestone, there should be a waterproof case containing hundreds of letters that Sionna wrote to Dylan after they lost touch.” Visola smiled sadly. “I had a dream about her writing those letters, while the CIA was attempting to extract information from me. It was so long ago that she probably forgot to give them to him. I bet reading those would give him closure.”

  “You’re a genius,” Vachlan said. “A total genius.”

  “Am I? Show me how smart you think I am,” Visola said playfully as she nibbled on his ear. “I need more of your sweet, sweet vacuum cleaner.”

  “Let’s get out of here first,” he encouraged. “If we ring this bell any more, we’ll wake up the whole city.”

  “But I want you to ring my bell,” she told him, pushing him down to the ground. “You can ring my bell a little more here, and then we can go home, and you can ring my bell a little more there.”

  “I can’t argue with that logic,” he said, pulling her down against him.

  Aazuria had been seeing disturbing news reports on the television. She had been unable to sleep. She had been pacing up and down in her bedroom until she aggravated the recent injuries to her legs that had not yet fully healed. She wished she could be underwater, but she needed to remain in Diomede City for a few more days to help the people rebuild their houses and their spirits, and make plans to strengthen the city against further attacks. She constantly worried about Varia. Even before the war started, she had suffered from many sleepless nights, wishing for the safety of her daughter. It did not help that tonight, there were many strange noises coming from the westernmost part of the house. Hearing strange crashes and the sound of shattering glass, she finally decided to grab a weapon and investigate.

  With a rifle in hand, Aazuria moved through the halls. The noises had continued for a few moments, but then they had abruptly stopped. She licked her lips to moisten them as she headed for the source of the commotion. When she found herself standing outside of Vachlan’s bedroom, she frowned.

  “Vachlan?” she whispered softly. She wondered if the man was in trouble. So many terrible things had happened lately that she felt compelled to check. “Vachlan!” she said slightly louder. Hearing no response, she pushed the door open, and headed into the room with her rifle poised in front of her body.

  The first thing she saw was that the curtains had been ripped down from the windows. Almost every framed photograph in the room was lying smashed on the ground, along with various ornaments. Aazuria felt a surge of terror when she saw that the bed was empty, until she noticed a lump of sheets on the ground near the fo
otboard.

  “Vachlan?” Aazuria asked with worry, moving slightly into the room, her rifle outstretched. She saw movement under the sheets. As she grew closer, she recognized a redhead lying tangled up on the floor with Vachlan, and she gasped. This time, Aazuria stumbled backward and bumped into a piece of furniture, causing more ornaments to be smashed. Her rifle clattered to the ground and a sob escaped her lips. “Viso!” The sight before her was too beautiful to be real. She reached down to poke herself directly in her wounded thigh to make sure she was not dreaming.

  Stirring from her sleepy state, Visola lifted her head off her husband, and tossed a few curly strands of hair out of her eyes. “If it isn’t the Zurester!” she said happily.

  Aazuria began to cry.

  Visola stood up and crossed the room, entirely naked. She slammed her arms around her friend and tried her best to crush the smaller woman’s bones. Aazuria returned the hug with equal ferocity.

  “Now I know that we’re going to be okay,” Aazuria whispered. “As long as you’re home—the end of the world doesn’t matter.”

  “Why are we having a birthday party now?” Ronan asked sadly. “Our birthday was ages ago and everybody forgot, except Auntie Elan. Daddy wasn’t even here.”

  “Sorry, squirt,” Vachlan said with a secret smile. “I’m just trying to make it up to you.”

  “It’s okay,” Ivory told her brother. “As long as we get cake, it doesn’t matter what day it is. I’m just here for the cake.”

  Earlier in the day, all the adults had gathered in the library to be informed of Visola’s return. Many hugs and tears were exchanged, and bit of catching up had been done, while plenty more was in order. Princess Yamako had shared a few stories from the road, and Callder had enthusiastically explained about Elandria’s massacre. Trevain had complained that Aazuria had a brazen new suitor, who shamelessly flaunted his power to win her attention, and Aazuria had insisted that she was not that impressed. Visola had given Dylan the letters which she had sent Naclana to retrieve that morning. He had been very grateful and choked up, and had retired to read them in private. Visola had thanked Elandria for taking care of the twins, but she had chosen to do something special to surprise them with her return.