Suddenly, his grasp was broken, causing me to fall to the ground with my neck throbbing in pain. When I sat up, rubbing my neck, I saw Blake tousling with him, jabbing him from left to right, missing some blows but landing most while dodging the metal bar he brandished. The Man in Black stumbled, falling to the floor in the debris heap. It was the most vulnerable the monster had been. He was going to do it. Blake was going to defeat him. This nightmare would be over once and for all.
“Put your hands where I can see them,” Blake ordered.
The Man in Black smirked, “As you wish.”
It’s funny how only one second’s time can alter the future for an eternity, how one moment can change one’s perception indelibly. One second it appeared as though Blake had prevailed, that good had been able to overcome evil with the downfall of The Man in Black. But, in the next second, it became apparent that a different fate had been written in the stars altogether. Removing his hands from behind his back, The Man in Black revealed the broken metal bar still firmly clutched in his right hand and, although the action only took an instant to complete, time seemed to move in slow motion from my vantage point. A scream escaped my mouth as I witnessed the metal bar’s jagged edge thrust like a harpoon from the hand of The Man in Black into the exposed flesh of Blake’s abdomen. Blake exhaled a sickening gasp, collapsing to his knees, clutching his wound.
My horror turned rapidly into fury as I picked myself up to face the devil himself. Pleased with himself, he moved towards me with a swagger that screamed superiority. “Now that he’s out of the way, I can finish what I started with you.”
The sound of his voice only served to fan the flames of the inferno that was manifesting inside me. “Your arrogance will be your downfall,” I replied, facing him.
He laughed. “Your tenacity is amusing. I may just regret snapping your neck.”
I took a defensive stance, analyzing his every move. Physically, there was no question he dominated me. But what he had in sheer bulk, he lacked in speed. Although he could move much faster than the average person, he was no match for my lighter, adrenaline-enhanced body. When it came to making the first move, I would leave the ball in his court, surveying every move he made in an attempt to find a weakness. We walked in a large circle, staring at each other, daring the other to make a move.
After practically wearing a trail on the concrete floor, he finally lost his patience and broke down. I studied each step he took as he ran at me; the way he held his arms with each stride, the slight arch of his back, the exaggerated armor he wore. When he was within ten feet of plowing me over, I flipped up into the air, landing on my feet several feet behind him.
Enraged, he charged at me again like a bull to a matador. I visualized his eyes reddening, his nostrils flaring. And when he came within a couple of feet of impaling me, I sprang into a back flip, kicking my leg out, successfully making contact with the side of his head. That’s for you, Jake, I thought to myself. The blow to the head knocked him off kilter. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that out of me.
“Am I formidable enough for you now?”
He emitted a deep, guttural noise that could only be described as a growl. At that moment, I wondered whether he was part beast, after all. Steadfastly, he took off, pounding the pavement with more purpose than before. I held my ground and tried to guess what tricks he had up his sleeve, but when it appeared as though he planned on doing nothing more than running me down, I bent my knees to prepare to leap over him. When I was no more than two feet in the air, he leapt up, launching his fist at me, hitting me perfectly in the only unprotected part of my body: my neck. I fell to the floor, struggling to take in air. He stood over me, pinning me down, his foot firmly planted on my chest.
“You will never be worthy enough for me.”
He pressed down even harder on my chest until I could hear my ribs cracking underneath his weight. Figuring I was too incapacitated to be of any danger to him, he removed his foot from my body, allowing my lungs to fill back up with air. As I expected, the reprieve didn’t last long as, once again, I felt myself being lifted off the floor as he grabbed me by the legs and proceeded to spin me furiously, my body gaining the ultimate momentum.
Never in my life had I thought I was truly going to die. Not even during the assault on The Lakes did I honestly think my life would end. Now, as I flew through the air across the warehouse, I knew that today would be the day. After all I had been through, the assault my body would take upon impact would be too devastating to live through. I had a lot of faith in the suit that encased me, but it couldn’t perform miracles. Closing my eyes, bracing for impact, my body flew into a shelving unit filled with empty pallets. The force of the impact shattered the unit and knocked me to the floor. I looked up from the concrete to see a shower of steel and wood raining down on me. Within a moment, I was covered, buried but surprisingly alive in the remnants of the shelving unit.
The familiar sound of The Man in Black’s feet pounding against the floor drew closer. Undoubtedly, he would try to succeed at what the impact had miraculously been unable to do. Around me, I could hear bits and pieces of wood and steel being lifted off where I landed and thrown to the side. It was only a matter of moments before I was uncovered. All I could do was wait.
At last, he picked up a sheet of steel, revealing my head. I struggled to quickly free my legs, but was met with nothing but resistance. My arms were relatively free, allowing me to run my hands up and down my body in a vain attempt at finding something to deliver me from certain demise.
“It’s time to join your partner.” He drew his arm back, revealing my fate to me: I would be crushed to death by the force of a monstrous blow to the head. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for impact, praying that death would come swiftly. In nervous anticipation, I ran my fingers down the side of my body, where I felt something strike my right hand. Of course! The revelation struck me. I have a gun.
As his armored hand rocketed toward me, my fingers gripped the holster, unclasping my hope for salvation and, with lightning accuracy, I gripped its handle, my fingers firmly grasping the trigger. When his fist came within inches from crushing my head, I pulled my hand from the debris and fired.
I expected a lot of things to happen as the bullet left the barrel of the gun. For instance, I expected it to throw him off his game, giving me an opportunity to attempt an escape. I expected it to throw him back down the pile of wood and steel, giving me at least a few more seconds of life. I expected it to piss him off even more, making my death quicker and, perhaps, relatively less painful. However, I didn’t expect the bullet to enter through a slight defect in his armored suit, and I most definitely did not expect the bullet to pierce his flesh.
An agonizing groan erupted from him as he stumbled down the pile. He removed his hand from his wound, revealing a stream of blood. To say that I was stunned was an understatement but, just as Blake’s suit had proven, nothing was perfect. There was a flaw somewhere in everything. It was the length of time it took between looking for that one imperfection and actually finding it that gave one the false perception of perfection.
He lunged for me again in an uncharacteristically undecided manner, knowing that if he sustained one more direct hit, he could be done for, effectively ending all of the destruction and chaos he’d worked so hard to sustain. In the distance, I heard a siren approaching, which only meant more guns and even more bullets.
“Until we meet again,” he said with a snarl.
“I’m counting on it.”
I heard his boots running across the pavement as he took off like the coward he truly was, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake.
Tugging on a wooden plank, I freed my legs and pulled myself out of the debris. With the adrenaline winding down, I started feeling the effects of the beating I’d just taken. My body, particularly my neck, throbbed and burned as though I’d been lit on fire. I lay in the mountain of debris, uncertain whether I would be able to pull myself to my feet when a sof
t moan erupted in the distance. Blake!
Rushing to my feet, I ignored the excruciating pain it caused to move and limped toward Blake. He remained lying in the same spot where he’d been brought down. It had been obvious at the time that the shard of metal he’d been stabbed with had caused serious injury, but it hadn’t dawned on me just how serious it really had been until I saw the pool of blood settling underneath his body.
“Blake,” I called his name, crouching down on my knees beside him, cupping his head in my hands. “Blake, speak to me.”
He groaned, clutching his wound. Slowly, I took my hand and ran it down his body to the hand that clutched his side. Carefully, I removed it, prompting a new stream of blood to pour from the hole in Blake’s abdomen. I gasped aloud. Despite having dated a doctor, my knowledge of survivable traumas to the human body wasn’t all that extensive, but it didn’t take a medical degree to know that the wound I was looking at wasn’t compatible with life. I kept my hand on Blake’s wound, tears forming in my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I cried.
“Hey…hey, stop the waterworks. These things happen.” His voice was strained as though the very act of speech took every ounce of his being. “Please…take off my mask…I can’t breathe in this thing.”
I removed Blake’s mask. His face was drained of all color and, despite the sweat that was running down his forehead, he was trembling. I removed my mask so that I could look at him face to face, for I feared that mine would be the last face he’d ever see. He moved his hand down his body, cupping it over the hand I was using to suppress the bleeding. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I stroked his hair with my other hand as I really wasn’t sure what else to do; I was absolutely paralyzed with dread. Blake most likely knew his fate, and my blubbering like a baby wasn’t helping matters.
In an attempt to regain my composure, I turned my head away from his gaze, trying to will my tear ducts dry. His hand caressed my cheek, a move I never would have expected. I looked back at his face and was met, not with a look of fear, anger or pain, but with a look of regret and compassion.
“I know…I’m dying…”
I hated hearing him speak the inevitable. His speech was softer, causing me to lean in further to him to hear his every word. He moved his hand from my face to my hair, brushing wayward strands away from my eye.
“You…don’t…you don’t…have to. I’ll take you back to headquarters. The doctors…they’ll fix you…you’ll be fine.”
“There’s no fixing the damage that has been done to me now. I’m not scared, Celaine. I’m free…finally, I’m free again. My only worry is for you.”
“Me? Why are you worried about me?”
“You’re too good…the most genuine person I’ve known. Just do me a…a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t let them take your soul…Don’t let them blind you…Don’t allow them to take your life like I did…Keep your eyes open to the truth.”
“I will,” I promised, confused as to what his words meant.
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Lean in closer to me.”
I leaned in toward Blake. He had the familiar smirk on his face that I’d grown to find endearing. Expecting him to say something, I was caught completely off guard when I felt his lips touch mine as he pulled my head in for a passionate embrace. The look on my face after his lips left mine had to have been nothing short of priceless.
“Now I can honestly say that I lived my life without any regrets.”
A new round of tears streamed down my face. I laid down next to Blake, holding him for the last few moments of his life, sobbing when I heard him take his final breath.
There are moments that occur in your life that forever alter your existence. Before today, I only had two of those moments: the death of my family and the day I met Chase. Now, I had three. Blake’s death altered me in an irreparable way, ensuring that I would never walk the Earth the same person again.
Chapter Thirty
The Infinite Sorrow
‘Keep your eyes open to the truth…’ Blake’s words haunted me. What did they mean? What was the answer to this enigma he presented me with in his last breath?
We stood gathered together around the casket, the late summer sun beating down through the gaps in the leaves of the maples scattered throughout the private cemetery. This would be the eternal resting place of Blake Cohen, and I was the reason for him being here. Victor feels the same way too, or so I believe. Since Blake’s death, his steely stare had turned even more ominous towards me. And despite Kara’s reassurance that his death had been due in part to his aversion to regular suit maintenance, I knew differently.
I brushed my hand over the pleats of the black dress I’d worn the day I arrived at headquarters; the last day of my former life, and the beginning of my new one with Blake Cohen. Even though I was amongst everyone I’d gotten to know over the past several weeks, I still felt utterly alone, my mind replaying the events of my encounter with The Man in Black and Blake’s final words to me. In the intermittent lapses that followed the grisly scenario looping through my mind, Chase’s face appeared, causing guilt to overtake me. Never had I suspected Blake as having held the feelings he revealed to me before he surrendered to eternity. It made me think, if he had survived, whether I would have developed the same feelings for him. Presently, the thought seemed inconceivable, as my heart was still firmly in Chase’s possession, but what about a year from now when I’d grown despondent over Chase moving on? This thought made my guilt intensify, worsening the internal conflict that was waging war with my soul.
My tears had dried up. Ignoring my past convictions, I gave in to the raw emotion that had abducted me and succumbed to taking the pills Dr. Lin had given to me. I was hollow, a robot awaiting a command.
I heard none of the sermon the chaplain gave that day, nor the sound of the creaks the wooden casket made when it was lowered into the dark, damp earth. Instead, I became lost in my thoughts, staring off into the oblivion of the cemetery, over every headstone and blade of grass. It wasn’t until Kara touched my shoulder that I was brought back down into the sickening reality, ceasing the never-ending loop playing in my head. The funeral was over, as was the life of Blake Cohen. As I followed Kara through the iron gate leading out of the cemetery, I stole one last glance back at Blake’s grave. A backhoe was in the distance, already on its way to fill it in.
Although I was now alone, I still felt a presence around me so intense that it seemed as though it was burning a hole in the back of my head. Shifting my eyes further from the grave, I spotted the thrower of this invisible flame.
Victor leaned against a maple tree, cigarette in hand, a look of sheer hatred in his eyes.
Chapter Thirty-One
The New Recruit
“You’re leaving for Norfolk tonight,” Cameron announced while we gathered around the table the next morning for breakfast. Kara shook her head as if to be subconsciously telling Cameron, Not now.
“Norfolk? Why am I going to Norfolk?”
“Because that’s where Ian Grant lives.”
I set my fork down. “Okay, Cameron, I’ll play along. Who’s Ian Grant?”
“Your new partner.”
“What?” I stole a glance at the glaringly empty seat next to me. “You can’t possibly be serious? It’s only been a day since Blake’s funeral.”
“It‘d only been a day since Liam’s funeral when you were scouted,” Victor spoke up from his permanent seat at the head of the table. “Perhaps, you’ll be able to keep this partner alive.”
Victor’s comment struck a nerve. I felt my face flush, my head dizzy with anger. “Excuse me.” I stood up from the table, angrily stepping out of the dining hall.
“Celaine, wait.” Kara jogged after me into the hallway. “He’s an ass.”
“Excuse me?”
“Victor. He’s a genius, and the reason why this place even exists, but he’s also an
arrogant, self-righteous ass.”
“I usually have a fond appreciation for bluntness, but with him…not so much.”
Kara and I walked to one of the couches in the sitting room. On the news, an aerial view of the devastation that was Hope Memorial appeared with a re-cap of the story surrounding the explosions. Kara looked up at the screen to see what had caught my attention.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
“More than you could ever imagine.”
“Do you still think it was worth it…coming here…leaving him?”
“You know…that’s the funny thing about this place. The second I think that maybe, just maybe, I’ve made a horrible mistake by coming here, something happens to completely vanquish that thought. In the warehouse, after I shot The Man in Black…when I saw the look of astonishment in his eyes as that bullet hit him, the look of almost sheer defeat when he took off like the coward he truly is, I knew that I was doing the right thing. I am doing the right thing. My fate took control of my destiny ten years ago, leaving me to do its bidding, which is exactly why I’m going to Norfolk tonight.”
Kara smiled. “You know, it’s not like you don’t have anyone who cares about you here. It’s not as if we view you…your kind, for lack of a better description, as some sort of oddity. We just have to go on with business as usual even through the immense pain it causes. I mean, given your personal experiences with that monster, I think you can appreciate the need for a partner. Besides that, if the public finds out that another one of you has been killed, there will be sheer chaos. They would begin to lose faith in you and us. What good we and our cause have done for societal morale will dissipate and then evil will have won. Besides that, Victor thinks the President is about a stone’s throw away from declaring martial law.”
“That wouldn’t go over well.”
“That’s what they said about the curfew, but yet his approval ratings went up after the installation of that joke.”
Enigma Black Page 29
