by David Hearne
“Bullets from the others, outside were raking the side of the bus and Roger, another body guard, and my husband, Ira were both shot. Steven tried to shoot the lights out in our cabin, so they could not see us, but he was hit almost as soon as he started firing. None of my bodyguards were dead, but then another man made it on the bus holding a semi-automatic pistol. He moved up to Steven and fired it point blank at his face. Steven had raised his hand as if to stop the bullet, but it sliced through his hand shattering his wrist and ripped into his body shattering more bones before it finally smashed into the floor beside him.”
“The scene was surreal. The killer fired so close that the hot air and the particles of gunpowder blew across Steven’s face as the first bullet was shot. Blood and pieces of Steven’s flesh sprayed across my face and the chair behind me. The man shot Steven again, and this time the bullet smashed into his upper jaw and exploded out of his cranium. The shooter was probably using hollow point rounds because the bullet did tremendous damage, leaving a gaping hole in the back of Steven’s head. Those visions of him dying will never leave me. They were horrible.”
“Roger took aim at this bastard and shot him in the chest, but the bullet did not kill him, just knocked him down. The guy fell on the other side of Steven’s body, which prevented Roger from shooting him. I pulled myself out of my trance, and I grabbed my pistol from my holster and shot at him numerous times. His body jerked each time I hit him. The fear was still there, but now I felt anger and that primitive desire to survive. I had just killed a man who was trying to kill me and my mind now went into a mode of survival. I was now in a cold homicidal rage.”
“Roger was hit again by a bullet from those shooting at us from outside, and this one killed him. You could see the flashes of the muzzles outside as they shot at us in the bus. I crawled over to Ira, who was bleeding profusely and tried to pull him to safety. Just then another man climbed up the bus’s twisted stairs and saw us trying to move across the floor. Ira was on top of me and the shooter just pointed his pistol at him and shot Ira killing him. I was helpless and he shot Ira again and this bullet also struck my side splitting it open. It turned out to be only a flesh wound that did little damage other than terrify me. I knew I was dead. I could not defend myself, because my pistol was empty.”
“I glanced up at the bastard as he walked over to me. He had spittle flying from his smiling mouth, and he said ‘Senator you are yesterday’s history.’ He pointed the gun at my face, and I could see his right eye looking directly at me over the sights of the pistol. My gaze was locked onto his eyes that seemed to glow with the delight of my helplessness. He sort of laughed as he pointed the barrel straight at my temple and then his squinting right eye erupted with a shower of blood spewing out all over me. My ears rang from the discharge of a gun close by that had just sent a bullet ripping through his head. His arms jerked up to his face and the pistol fell from his hand. For a moment his body sort of swayed above me with blood gushing out over his face, washing the snow from his moustache. Then noiselessly he crumpled lifeless to the floor a couple of feet from me. At the top of the steps was Hulagu, Zoe Shelly, ComDefC1 or whatever you want to call her. She was shot and bleeding profusely, but she walked over towards me and knelt down in the blood pooling around Ira. I was immobilized in fear. It was like the feeling you have in a nightmare as you try to wake yourself to stop the horror, but you can’t. I was frozen and could not even utter a sound, but just waited for her to put the muzzle of the gun to my head and splatter my brains all over the floor. She was now there, kneeling beside us and all I could see was her pants soaking up Ira’s blood. It seemed like an eternity, and then I felt the weight of Ira being removed. She had grabbed Ira by the shoulders and pulled him off of me. “They are all dead.” She quietly said. I flipped around and sat up as she lowered Ira’s limp body back into my lap. I pulled Ira close to me holding his head to my chest as my own body convulsed with fear and emotions. I found myself gasping for breath and my eyes closed tightly to hide my tears. It was a moment that was filled with a thousand emotions. When I opened my eyes her face was only inches away nuzzled in Ira’s hair. Her exhaling breath caused strands of Ira’s hair to flitter across my face. I had never been this close to her. And now she was mourning Ira’s death, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair as I held him in my arms. My heart was heavy with sorrow, but still raced with fear. I feared her. I still felt she might shoot me at any moment, but her gun rested on the floor in the ever-widening pool of blood. I held Ira even tighter as if his closeness protected me from her. And perhaps it did. My eyes looked into her face, and I could see tears trickling down her cheek. She kissed his lips, caressed his face and began to weep.”
“The night was calm now. No gunshots. No bullets whizzing by, just the quiet whisper of the winter wind blowing through the holes and broken windows of the bus. The loudest sound now was our breathing, soft sobs and the occasional rustling of paper skittering across the floor.”
“My eyes swept over my likeness, inches from me. Her jacket hung heavy with blood, a mixture of hers and Ira’s. Her presence diminished my emotional pain. The agony of his lost she shared with me as we sat there with Ira’s lifeless body. In her mind, held in a parasitic grip, were my memories of Ira. Those memories reached out like tentacles and touched her every thought. To her, Ira was as much her husband as he was mine. She was finally touching the man whose memories had plagued her mind for months. The man that her mind had told her was her life, which she remembered nights of passion with and a thousand life’s adventures. Now he would always stay a dream to her because tonight his life was reduced to nothing, but a memory to both of us.”
“I heard the silence broken by my voice. It was me speaking and the sound of my voice, our voice startled her. I had looked into her eyes and said I know how much you must love him, and I know you are thinking of all the yesterdays that were good ones and even perhaps some of the bad ones because that is what is in my mind. I am sorry for the emptiness you must feel now. It is the same kind of emptiness that tears at my heart. She did not reply, but just stared at me. I lowered my eyes ashamed of having tried to presume the pain she felt. Her eyes were a mirror into my soul and their glance made me fear what I might see of myself within them. They cut through me, knowing everything about me, every secret, and every possible lie hidden deep within my memories.”
“My body shivered from the cold or my emotions and my tremors caught her attention, and she asked quietly ‘Are you shot?’”
“I raised my head and look at her again and said. ‘Yes, but not bad! But what about you? Your jacket is soaked in blood.’”
“‘I think I am going to die this time.’ She replied and actually smiled at me.”
“Her words made me feel sick. I felt guilty and wanted to say something that would purge the remorse I was consumed in, but I could not think of one word to say to her.”
“I finally blurted out, ‘Let me get you to a doctor.’”
“‘Christ no! If you took me to a doctor I would either be killed or locked up until I did die.’”
“‘They do not have to know who you are.’ I said to her pleadingly.”
“‘I look like you and after these killings, every doctor in the area will be contacted for anyone with bullet wounds. There is no way I could get medical help without being captured or killed by the CIA. It is foolish to talk about this, and I know you know that. Do you still want to be President?’
“‘After this, I am not sure.’ I responded.”
“‘You do. I know you do, and we must leave here now or your chances will be destroyed. We cannot be found together.’”
“I looked at her and started to protest, but stopped as she pulled Ira from me and laid him down on the floor. She stood up and said, ‘Please come with me.’”
“‘Where are we going?’ I asked.”
“‘Trust me. I just want to be with you now. I know and you know you want to be with me when I die this time. You have
always been there to comfort me when I died. This time I need you more than ever. Please help me.’”
“I wanted to be with her. She was a part of me that was missing, and I reached out to touch her.”
“She had lost a lot of blood and was very weak. ‘Call me Zoe.’ She said to me.”
“‘It makes me feel real. I tried to live a life of my own, but all your memories haunted me, and I could not escape from being you,’ she said.”
“She was like a part of me, even then as she helped to save me, Zoe thought how to prevent anyone from knowing about her and the program that created her.”
“She told me. ‘We have to get away from this bus because my car is parked down the road, and if it is discovered, then everyone would know about the program.’”
“I realized she was right and helped her stand up. Her jacket was soaked with blood and some was crystallizing into the fabric from the cold. We moved away from Ira’s body to the destroyed entrance to the bus. I jumped down first and helped her climb down from the mangled doorway. Gingerly, we hobbled over to her car parked about 100 feet behind the bus. I helped her into the passenger seat. The car was still warm inside. Zoe had apparently just driven up, jumped out, and shot her way into the melee.”
* * * *
Inside the limousine my wife openly sobbed and tears burned in my eyes as well. Katherine paused for a minute and wiped her eyes and took another sip of her Moxie. She took a couple of shuttering breaths and then continued, “What had just happened felt like an eternity, but in ticks of the clock it all transpired in a mere four or five minutes. Eight people had been killed and two wounded in that short time.”
“Zoe was slumped in the passenger seat like a bloody immobile lump of flesh as we drove along Route 12. She told me to just drive around with her for a while. She just wanted me to talk to her.”
“‘No one should ever know that I was here.’ Zoe cautioned me.”
‘You should just tell people you ran away from the bus to save yourself.’ Zoe offered.’
‘You must stay with me till I die and destroy any proof I was ever here. I have a five-gallon can of gas in the trunk. Use it to cremate me and to destroy this car.’
“I was speechless for a moment. I had not thought of this problem and the thought of burning her body bothered me immensely.”
“She painfully reached over, and touched me and said, ‘You must!’”
“I glanced over at her and quietly agreed that I would do as she requested.”
“A mile or so north on Route 12, I drove the car off of the highway and parked it behind an old barn. She just wanted to be with me for her remaining time. I reached over and held her. It was like holding a dying daughter to me. I felt terribly emotional as I felt her trembling body in my arms. I told her how I wished we could have known each other better. She replied that she had been happy for the few months of life that she had been given. Zoe knew this would be the last time she would be created, and she feared her end.”
“‘You know that there are others like me now?’ She whispered.”
“‘I thought there was, but I am not part of the program anymore,” I replied.”
“She looked up at me inquisitively and said, ‘They are preparing one of us to run for President, and it isn’t me.’”
“‘Who is it?’”
“‘Katherine, I hurt. There are all kinds of voices talking in my head right now. Mentally, I am linked with all the others of my kind and their thoughts become maddening sometimes.’”
“She took in deep breaths and said, ‘He is a young junior Senator, and they want him to win. And they will make sure he does.’”
“Zoe coughed and I wiped the blood from her lips”.
“‘Am I human?’ She asked.”
“‘You are as human as I am.’ I told her. Her question made me feel like I was outside of my own body holding myself as I died. My body shook with the grief I felt for her. She was me and she did things that I could not believe I would have ever been able to do. Her bravery in saving my life made me feel sick to my stomach, now that she was dying. I told her how proud I was of all she had accomplished, which was the truth. She was laboring to breath, and I swear I felt her spirit, yes her soul preparing to leave her bleeding body. I truly hope that she was as real as I was and if there is a God, that she is given the reward and the peace she deserves for being a woman that was the epitome of good.”
The Senator bit her lip to restrain her emotions that had consumed her and an uncomfortable silence hung over all of us. Stacie was squeezing my hand tightly, and I knew that there would be tears in her eyes. But she was not alone, sadness showed on all of our faces.
The Senator cleared her throat and continued.
“Zoe’s eyes seem to stare unseeing into nowhere. I held her hand while I talked to her and stroked her fingers. Her head tipped downward and she spoke of my mother. She asked, ‘Will mother know me? I have had so many thoughts of her. So many memories of her. I hope….’ Her voice trailed off with her thoughts, but I told her that mother was as much hers as mine, and she would love both of us the same.”
“‘Be a good mother to Lyndsey.’ Zoe whispered.”
“She moaned and added in a raspy voice, ‘I never got to touch her or kiss her, but I felt so much love for her. She is a wonderful daughter. I loved her!’”
Katherine brushed away a tear and continued, “I think Zoe was now at that point in dying where she felt no pain. Some point between living and the final darkness of death; an instant where all your moments of life pour from your subconscious and converge into one whirlwind of memories ascending with your soul into heaven or some other dimension. I hoped she was enjoying a kaleidoscope of these visions of the life she had been a part of. While I listened to her sporadic breathing, I wondered if I would think of the same things when I die.”
“I sat next to her, and her clenched left hand rested limply in my lap. I talked to her quietly about our life; a life that we had shared as one. I don’t know if she heard what I spoke of, but I felt and hoped it comforted her in some way. She never said anything more to me, and finally I felt her slump into my arms and her breathing stop. I felt her pulse and realized she was dead. I removed her hand from my lap and something fell from it. I turned on the dome light and saw a gold coin on the floor. I picked it up. It was still warm from her grasp. It was one of the most precious coins I had owned when she sold them. She must have been handing it over to me as she was dying. I put it in my pocket. It was now priceless.”
“I kissed her on her forehead and tore myself out of the car. Here I was, unable to return the compassion, mercy and love, she had shown me, a person, who she must have believed wished her dead. Zoe had sacrificed herself for me, and I will never really know why. I feel I could have saved her, if I could have gotten her medical attention, but that was an impossibility.”
Katherine fell silent again and her body quivered from emotions. I realized then, how much she had loved Zoe. My wife said, “Katherine, maybe you should stop. You don’t need to torture yourself with this.”
Katherine bit her lip and said, “No, I need to tell you the rest. When she died, I felt in my heart that the earth should have stopped with her death, but the world kept right on going uncaring and untouched by this tragedy I had just witnessed. A part of me felt that tonight we had reunited once again, and Zoe, and I had metamorphed back into one entity. It was almost like we had cheated death.”
“I hated what I had to do next. I pulled out a five-gallon container of gas from the trunk and sprinkled its contents over the seats and Zoe’s lifeless body. I dribbled a trail of gas out of the car door and along the snow covered ground for about fifteen feet. The gas was quickly evaporating into the snow, and I worried I would not be able to light it. I took my empty pistol and chambered one shot. I held it close to the snow and fired. The muzzle flash ignited the gas and the blaze wiggled along the path back to the car. Suddenly, the car burst into a ball of fire. This
was Zoe’s funeral pyre. She had lived only a few ticks of eternity’s clock, and now she was returning back to the cosmic realm from where she had come. I had hoped she would have lived forever, but now she was simply gases and ashes that would flutter over the white snow and become earth once more.”
“My back was against a cold biting wind piercing through my jacket, but in front of me the terrific heat from the fire blew against my face. The bright flames dazzled my eyes, and I could hear the pyre crackling as it consumed the car and my twin. The fury of the fire belched up churning clouds of smoke, and somewhere in that swirling darkness my memories and perhaps a piece of my soul floated high up into the ebony winter night. It was all a dantesque dream that I was living. A nightmarish hell that made me want to scream. A whiff of the pungent smoke hit my nostrils, and I realized that part of the smell is the flesh of my double burning violently in this fire of death. Each breath of winter air carried the scent of her death, which will haunt my memories forever.”
“Tires popped from the heat and the windshield of the car exploded. I listened intently for ghostly whispers from my twin. The heat and smoke from the fire snaked its way through the branches of the nearby trees and suddenly an avalanche of snow cascaded to the ground. The snow sizzled in the roaring fire making white clouds, but the fury of the fire won and its flames leapt into the sky again.”
“I turned from the roaring fire and started to run down the road we came in on. I was about a quarter of a mile from Route 12. I found myself in pain, and gasping after just a hundred feet or so. It was very dark and I found myself stumbling as I ran over the snow-covered road. I could still smell the smoke from the fire as I reached the highway. My throat and lungs were burning from my run and the cold air I was breathing. Once on the highway, I ran north going even further away from my bus and the car burning. I saw car lights coming toward me, and at first, I feared it might be someone else trying to kill me. I quickly scurried over a snow bank and crouched shivering behind it. I waited, hoping that I had not been seen. It felt like an eternity, but finally the roar of a vehicle zooming by broke the silence of the night. I stayed hidden for about 30 seconds more before I ventured my head up over the snow bank. Down the road, I could see the faint glimmer of taillights fading into the distance, so I climbed back over the snow bank. I struggled on for about three minutes more on Route 12 until another side road came into view. I could see a darkened barn just a short distance down the road, and I panted toward it. I wanted someplace out of the wind and snow. My lungs burned from the run and my bruised ribs throbbed from the shot, but I felt I was now temporarily safe.”
