by David Beers
She told him about Rachel Veritros.
He told her he didn’t care.
She said she didn’t either. That it was over.
And eventually, late one night lying in two separate motel beds, they found themselves meeting in one. They made love and when it was over, Rhett lay next to her.
“I don’t know if I can ever stop hating you,” he’d said.
“I know.”
They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
Now, lying on his side and staring at the curvature of her moonlit back, Rhett’s thoughts crept to David.
He didn’t know what had happened to the Prophet. Rebecca said perhaps he’d gone to the Unformed. Perhaps he was there with Veritros.
Rhett didn’t know. He only knew that David was gone, and that Rhett would never look upon the man again. They had lost--they were the lost--and now each of them were moving listlessly through the world.
Without purpose.
Rhett didn’t know what had happened to Christine. He hoped she was doing well, but he imagined she most likely had pulled a trigger against her own temple.
Rhett had the woman next to him and nothing more.
He was slowly growing comfortable with that.
It was painful, excruciatingly so, but if he was going to keep living, then he had to accept the truth. They had lost. They were lost. And they would be forever.
Rebecca was pregnant. She’d told him yesterday.
The blood of the Prophet still flowed. It would continue to spread. Perhaps one day the Unformed would return, and perhaps David’s blood could still help the Union take place.
Or, perhaps it had all been a ruse.
Perhaps Rebecca was right.
Rhett lay back down on the bed, his face toward the ceiling.
He was going to be a father. Life was continuing.
Maybe that would be enough.
Rhett and Rebecca would always be lost without David. He knew that, and whether she would ever admit it, she did too.
At least they could be lost together.
Daniel Sesam stood just outside of a construction site. It was large, the site, much larger than what would take place for the rebuilding of his own house.
He watched the men working in front of him, his hands in his pockets and the sun shining overhead.
Six months had passed since he spoke with his daughter and this was the first time he’d come to the Vatican.
The Pope had given him an open invite. The Pope had said he could live inside the City’s walls, rent free--forever. After six months, Daniel still didn’t have a home. He was living out of a hotel room close to where his business had once been.
The funds were available to build a house. The Pope’s offer was similarly gracious when it came to rebuilding: he could live anywhere he pleased, and cost was not a concern.
For Daniel, it sort of felt like a drunk person running you down in the road, and then bringing you gifts after.
He hadn’t touched the money, not outside of the necessities needed to live. He didn’t know if he ever would.
Daniel had received a letter from the Pope a week ago, and that’s what finally brought him to this construction site. It’d been handwritten and personally delivered, slipped under the door at his hotel.
Dear Daniel,
I hope this letter finds you well, as well as you can be. There is much I could share with you, and much I want to share with you, but I doubt you would find any of it interesting. As such, I will not waste your time.
I do believe I have one thing that you may enjoy knowing about, though as I age, I find myself knowing less and less what people enjoy (and I find myself caring less, too--but that’s only between you and I, you understand?).
Inside the Vatican, we’ve begun building the first monument in 100 years. It’s to be dedicated to your daughter, Daniel.
To Nicki.
I personally approved all the designs, and I’m including them with this letter. If for any reason you want them changed, please let me know, and I will immediately alter them to fit your prerogative. The only thing I won’t change is that the monument will be built.
I’m sure you’ve heard of the world praising me, as well as the other Ministers. Unfortunately, such things are necessary. However, I know the truth, as do you. Your daughter saved us. She saved humanity, and while I’m fine to let other Ministries use me as a savior, the Old World will know the truth.
That is why the monument must be built. As long as the Catholic Church stands, we will remember Nicki and the sacrifice she made.
The offers I’ve made to you all still stand, and will forever. I doubt you’ll ever take me up on them, and that’s okay. We are, after all, inside the Lord’s Will. I believe that more now than ever before.
I do hope you will come see the monument’s construction, and if you want to be there for the actual dedication, you know I will spare nothing to make it happen.
The world thanks you, Daniel. I thank you. I cannot take away your pain, nor your hate. Remember, though, when you think too poorly of mankind--remember what your daughter did. There is good in us yet, and God has decided that we should survive a little longer. I must believe that’s because He recognizes the good in us as well.
If He chose your daughter to save us, then she must have been the best among us. If God saw enough good, perhaps one day you can too.
Respectfully,
Yule
The Pope had signed nothing else, though the envelope did have the official Vatican Seal.
Daniel read the letter and then put it away. He didn’t look at it again, and for two weeks did nothing.
At the end of those two weeks, he booked a trip to the Vatican. He told no one he was coming. He did take a flight, and perhaps that might flag something inside the Vatican if they were watching his movements.
He didn’t care.
He looked over the monument plans as he flew, the ones that had been included in the letter.
Sitting next to someone on the plane, Daniel cried.
The monument was beautiful.
No one who looked on it could ever be confused about what it meant.
On one side was a massive orb. It would stretch 200 feet into the air, and its circumference would be the same.
The Black. The entity that came to destroy Earth.
And in front of it?
A life-size version of Nicki. Her chin tilted upward, and her eyes staring at the orb. Facing it down.
Now, Daniel stood in front of the construction site.
Even with all his hate for the Church, for the entire world, he couldn’t stare on the endeavor and hold anything but awe.
“Daniel?”
He heard his name and immediately knew the voice.
The sun was high above, but a chill ran down Daniel’s back. It was a voice he never wanted to hear again; though to be fair, he never wanted to hear from anyone associated with his daughter’s death.
Daniel didn’t turn around, but listened as the footsteps walked up to him.
Jackson Carriage, a psychopath, stood beside Daniel.
“I’ve come out here every day since it started,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d come.”
Daniel was quiet.
“They’re supposed to finish in three months. It’s going to be.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “… The Church has never done anything like it before.”
Daniel nodded. “I guess they didn’t do anything to you for all those murders over all those years?”
“The Pope is a gracious man.”
That was all he said and Daniel needed to know nothing else. The psychopath wasn’t wrong. Daniel knew of the official pronouncements. The Black’s followers were granted clemency. The Church’s stance on those with the sight had been reversed, and the Pope publicly condemned the actions of his predecessors.
The Pope is a gracious man.
Yes, but it changed nothing for Daniel. The Pope could give everythi
ng to everyone, but he could never give Nicki back.
“Does he know you’re here?” the psychopath asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No.”
“Are you going to see him?”
“No.”
The two were silent for a while, both simply watching the men in front of them work.
“I had a dream last night,” the psychopath said. “I thought it was just that, a dream, until I saw you standing out here. I thought it was just my head making stuff up.”
Daniel looked over to the thin man. The psychopath didn’t return his stare, but kept looking forward.
“I was out here, in the dream. The sun was above just like now. Everything was the same, except you weren’t standing next to me. I walked to the front of the orb right there, crossing through the barriers in front of us. No one said anything and I just kept walking. I knew where I wanted to go. I … A few months ago I actually was able to get my hands on the monument’s blueprints. So, I know how everything is going to look …”
The psychopath paused for a second. Daniel kept looking at him, understanding immediately that the man felt shame. Because even now, he couldn’t stay away from Daniel’s daughter.
“Nicki is going to stand in front of the orb, and in the dream, I knew that’s where I wanted to go. I wanted to stand where she would. So I walked out across the area there and went right to where she’ll be.” The psychopath gestured with his chin, raising it slightly toward the orb. “Do you see it?”
Daniel looked forward.
“There’s a rock in front of the orb.”
“There’s a lot of rocks out there,” Daniel said. The man had lost it completely now. Finally breaking in two with Nicki’s death. The ground was covered with gravel, every rock looking the exact same as the rest.
“Look,” the psychopath said. “Right in front of the orb. It’s like a brick.” He raised his hand and pointed.
Nicki’s statue wasn’t finished yet, so there was no exact way to tell where it would stand, but Daniel followed the psychopath’s hand and peered across the site.
“The black one.”
Daniel saw it, not knowing how he’d missed it. It looked like a piece of the orb had simply fallen off--only it wasn’t a craggy rock. The psychopath was right; it did look like a brick, perfectly shaped, and sitting just in front of the orb.
“You see it,” the psychopath said.
“I do,” Daniel answered.
“I was going to look for it today, but I don’t think it’s for me. I think it’s for you. I think the dream was for you.”
Daniel stared at the rock, truly not knowing what to believe. It was most definitely there, but it could have been in the same place for months. The psychopath next to him might just be completely insane.
That’s what you’re going to believe, given everything you’ve seen?
“Go get it,” the psychopath said, interrupting his ruminations.
Daniel looked over at him again, and still Carriage didn’t return the stare.
“I really don’t think anyone is going to stop you, Daniel. And if they do, you’re Daniel Sesam. You could spit in the Pope’s face and nothing would befall you. I’ve been out here every day since they started, and I’ve never seen that rock … Go on.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward the rock.
He shrugged. What did it really matter? If the psychopath was crazier than usual, he’d walk over and pick up a rock. No harm done.
He went forward, crossing the tape that said CONSTRUCTION. The gravel crunched beneath his feet and he looked around at the men working. None noticed him, not bothering to look up from their tasks. Large machines moved to his left and right, scaffolds high in the air around the orb.
Daniel walked to the brick, ignoring the rest of the world. No one said anything to him, and he didn’t bother them either.
He came upon the black brick and went down to a knee. The sun felt hot above him, and he suddenly felt sweat on his back. His shirt was sticking to him. Daniel looked up at the orb, seeing the scaffolds and men walking across them. No one was going to stop him.
He looked back at the brick. It hadn’t broken off the orb, Daniel was sure of that. He thought it was the same material, but the texture was too different. The brick was rough, while the orb was seal skin smooth.
Daniel reached forward and picked it up, no longer hesitating. His daughter was dead and his life destroyed; what the hell was he doing out here wondering about a brick?
He’d barely picked it up off the ground when he saw her.
Nicki.
In his head or in reality, he couldn’t tell. The image was too powerful, replacing everything else. He was staring at her face, and she was smiling back at him.
Blonde hair cupping her angular face, as beautiful as she’d ever been.
She said nothing. Only smiled.
Warmth spread over Daniel--not the heat from the sun, but an emotional warmth. What one feels when embracing a loved one they haven’t seen in a long, long time.
What Daniel felt, holding that brick, was love.
He looked on his daughter and in his heart, he felt love.
Daniel dropped it and Nicki’s face disappeared. The warmth left. He found himself staring down at the ground, gray gravel surrounding the black rock he’d held moments before. His breathing was normal. His heart rate the same.
He looked back to the psychopath; the man was still staring at him. Daniel turned to the brick once more and placed his hand on it.
Nicki.
It was all he saw, and immediately he felt that same warmth. That same love. Both from her and for her, something impossible to truly describe--but there all the same.
He pulled his hand back, his eyes wet.
“COME HERE!” he shouted to the psychopath.
The man hustled over.
“Touch it. Put your hand on it and touch it.”
The psychopath knelt next to him, saying nothing. He placed his hand on the brick while Daniel stared at him.
“Do you feel it? Do you see her?”
The psychopath looked right back at him, his face showing none of the wonder that it should.
“No,” he said. “I don’t feel anything.”
Daniel stared at him for what felt like an hour, saying nothing. Perhaps only 30 seconds passed, but in Daniel’s head, it felt like so much longer. The thin man looked back, his eyes calm.
“Did you put this here? Did you or the Pope do something to it? Is this some kind of goddamn prank?”
Daniel’s voice was raw with emotion, his eyes full of tears now and blurring the psychopath.
“I have no contact with the Pope,” the psychopath said. “I certainly didn’t plant this here. They watch me, you know? The Pope may be gracious, but they’re watching me. I couldn’t step out here without them knowing. They probably see me right now.”
Daniel looked down at the black brick and tried to blink away his tears. One fell out on his face.
“You put this here. You had to,” he whispered.
“I didn’t. I had a dream, and when I woke up, you were both here.”
“Who? Who did it?”
Daniel looked up, his eyes feverish with need. What he’d felt wasn’t possible. Seeing his daughter that clearly. Feeling that love. None of it could happen.
The psychopath took his hand off the brick and shrugged.
“What happens when you touch it?”
Daniel shook his head. “I … I see her. I see Nicki. And, it’s more than that. I feel her. I feel like she’s with me and my heart is full.”
Another tear dripped onto his face.
“Touch it again,” the psychopath said.
Daniel reached forward, not really wanting to put his hands on it; he didn’t want to touch it and nothing happen.
His finger touched the black rock and Nicki’s face, smiling and full of joy, filled him. Not his mind. Not his vision. Filled him.
He remov
ed his hand and only Carriage Jackson was in front of him, the sun bright on his pale skin.
“I think God put it here,” the psychopath said. “I think it’s His way of saying thank you, for what you gave to the world.”
When Daniel Sesam left the Vatican, he took the brick with him. For as long as he lived, he was able to touch it and see his daughter, filled with that same awesome love.
He never told another soul of the black brick, and he never quite believed what Jackson Carriage said to him. Yet, he never quite disbelieved it either.
And for Daniel Sesam, that was faith enough.
On Purpose and Other Things
Thanks for reading, and I mean that wholeheartedly. I love telling stories and without you, that wouldn’t be possible.
I know at the end of books, a lot of writers offer you something free if you sign-up for their mailing list. What they’re doing, essentially, is buying your email address.
I don’t want to do that.
I think having a purpose in life is important. It adds clarity and meaning to what you do. I’m lucky to know mine and that purpose dictates my life: I’m here to tell stories. Nothing else even comes close to the happiness this job gives me.
With that said, if you like reading my novels and want to know when the next book comes out, sign-up below. No tricks. No buying your address. Just me telling stories and you enjoying them.
The way these relationships should work.
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Also by David Beers
Nemesis
She's coming and no one can stop her...
An alien Queen, Morena, was removed from power and forced into exile. Doomed to roam space forever, with no hope of return.
Until a random party brings a man named Michael to her crashed ship. For the first time in millennia, Morena sees her salvation. First, in Michael … and then Earth. The perfect place to repopulate her species. And those already here? They can bow or die.
As Morena begins her conquest, can Michael warn the world before it's too late? Can anyone stop the most powerful force the world has ever seen?
