Doria Falls

by Michael Pierce

  A bullet cut through the water a few feet to my left. We were far enough away that a single person was not a large target.

  I inched along the ocean floor to reach Desiree, who was trying to get back to her feet, and ordered her to stay down.

  “I’m so cold,” she cried.

  “We’ll be okay,” I assured her, my teeth chattering so much I didn’t know if she could understand a word I said. “Just stay in the water. They’ll never hit us from here.”

  Tears streamed down her face. She looked like she may vomit again. I wrapped both arms around her and positioned my body to shield her from any incoming bullets. I wanted to console her more, but I had to fully concentrate on stopping any incoming bullets from hitting us. I knew I could stop them as long as I found and focused on that place within myself of absolute knowing. But the cold added a whole new level of complexity to that focus.

  “We’re going to be okay,” I said again, now reassuring myself as much as her.

  My eyes were shut tight and I did everything I could not to picture any of the carnage on the beach. I tried to block out the cold. I focused on becoming one with the ocean, rather than fighting with it. A bullet could pass through, but it would cause no damage.

  Desiree buried her face into the side of my neck. Her chest was tight against mine, and even through our vests, I could feel her heart beating. It beat faster than mine, but was slowing—slowing to the rhythm of my own.

  The gun shots seemed like they were coming from farther away, from a fight taking place on another beach. The sound of the incoming waves seemed to be lessening. My body tingled a little less. I was blocking out everything around me. It was now just Desiree and me within a protective bubble. Our newly synced beating hearts were all I could hear as they thrummed to a steady tempo in my head. No one could penetrate our bubble. We were safe as long as we were together.

  And then came the third crash, bursting our protective bubble with no effort at all.

  14

  Bridge

  I found my head underwater directly after feeling the crash. Kafka had slain the third guardian. We were so close, but all of our efforts seemed to be futile. We couldn’t even defeat his men, let alone the bogeyman himself. I rolled with the water that was pushing me toward the shore. I was disoriented even though I was only in two feet of water. My head bounced and scraped along the ocean floor.

  Finally, I was pushed to shallow enough water where even lying down, my head was no longer fully submerged. The world outside continued to spin while I fought to regain my balance. It took all of my strength and focus to crawl onto the beach.

  Desiree!

  She had been in my arms just a moment ago. The crash had torn us apart and now she was gone. So was the fog. The morning sun was now shining down on us between gray clouds. The water glistened like a blue blanket of diamonds fluttering in the wind.

  I flipped over onto my back, kicked myself backward onto the sand, and scanned the water. A spark from a second sun momentarily blinded me. With one eye closed and the other severely squinting, I saw large metal beams extending overhead, connecting the two cliffs. And the spark that had caught my attention was moving—no falling. One of the metal beams fell from a structurally compromised bridge. Chunks of broken concrete rained down on the beach like a meteor shower.

  Desiree!

  The soldiers that had been attacking Nicholae ran for the water, away from all the falling debris. Mr. Gordon and Colton sprinted to retrieve Nicholae. Cias was gone. Malakye was the only one left standing in their way. No shots were fired. Jeremy was on his knees in the sand, seemingly oblivious to parts of the bridge crashing down around him.

  Desiree!

  Jeremy needed help, but where was Desiree? I couldn’t sit here too long not doing a damn thing to help those around me. Then I saw her—splashing toward the shore close to the cliff. She was coughing and crawling out of the ocean, but she was alive and in the safest place out of all of us on the beach.

  I jumped to my feet and hurried to Jeremy before any debris could land on his head. I grabbed his arm and tried to yank him to his feet, but his body was dead weight in the sand.

  “Get up damnit!” I yelled.

  He gazed up at me groggily like he’d just awakened from a dream.

  “I dreamt this was coming. We’ve lost,” he said.

  “No,” I insisted. “We’re alive and we’re still fighting. Now help me help you! Get up!”

  Just then I saw Mr. Gordon and Colton stumbling down the beach, carrying Nicholae by the shoulders. Nicholae was running with them, but wasn’t able to support his full weight. Wet sand streaked with blood caked his face. His bulletproof vest was in the sand near where he had been beaten. Malakye’s body was also lying near the vest.

  The three of them passed Jeremy and me before I was able to get Jeremy off his knees. They were all singularly focused—not one of them noticed us still in the middle of the beach. But seeing their heroic escape motivated Jeremy to climb to his feet and follow them to safety.

  Jeremy and I raced to catch up with the rest of the group. Desiree had climbed out of the water and was getting to her feet. Nicholae had created a new door standing independently by the base of the cliff.

  Desiree was the first to go through, followed by Colton, Nicholae, and Mr. Gordon. Jeremy and I were only a few seconds behind. More shots rang out above the sound of the ocean and crumbling bridge. I ran through and exited where we had stood earlier in the morning at the top of the cliff, behind the safety of the metal guardrail.

  Colton and Mr. Gordon gently helped Nicholae lay down in the dirt beside the two-lane road. I knelt beside him and he looked up at me with a pained smile.

  “Just give me a minute to recover,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” I said and got back to my feet.

  Desiree was waiting for me a few paces away. I took her trembling and dripping body in my arms. I didn’t know if I had actually done anything to protect her, but it didn’t matter. She was safe for the moment. Maybe it was selfish of me to bring her here. Maybe it would have been better to let her go to the new camp, or better yet, try to convince her to go home. She could go with Jeremy. He obviously needed to go home. He’d only stayed out of his irrational commitment to make up for the danger he’d put me in with Kafka several months ago. He said he was committed to looking after me and keeping me safe, but his attitude of powerlessness and defeat wasn’t helping to keep either one of us safe, and seemed to be working more to our detriment.

  I looked around for Jeremy and didn’t see him anywhere. The door we had come through was now gone. I scanned the tree line with the hope of finding that he’d just wandered off or maybe had to piss. But I didn’t see him there, either.

  “Where’s Jeremy?” I asked the group. “He was right behind me when I went through the door.”

  “You were the last one to come through the door,” Colton said.

  “No,” I protested. “That’s impossible. He was right behind me.”

  Nicholae carefully got to his feet, testing his strength in the process. His wounds were quickly healing. He wiped what sand he could off his face with the palms of his hands.

  Everyone was now scanning all directions and calling out Jeremy’s name. Nicholae was the only one who remained silent and focused on the opposite side of the canyon. What remained of Kafka’s men had gathered by the mirroring cliff, across the bridge. I stopped and stared alongside Nicholae.

  “Do you think he’s over there?” Desiree asked, appearing beside me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I sure hope not.”

  “He’s there,” Nicholae said matter-of-factly.

  “What? You can see him?” I couldn’t make out anyone specifically from this distance. Everyone was dressed in black. A few of the men didn’t have on helmets, but from here all of their faces were featureless.

  “No, I can’t see him, but I can feel him. I can feel his fear. He’s with K
afka.”

  “Well, what are we going to do?” I demanded. “We have to do something!”

  Nicholae said nothing, his attention fixed on the men across the way he’d failed to kill.

  Kafka’s small army began moving, making their way toward the bridge.

  Without saying a word, Nicholae left where he had been standing by the guardrail and approached the bridge. Two new pistols materialized in his hands, and he holstered both of them.

  I looked to Desiree and then to Mr. Gordon, hoping for—needing him to provide some guidance.

  “I can’t tell you what to do because there is no right,” he said. “Your father has always fought for what he believes in, and now that’s become what he helped build. He won’t quit and he won’t surrender, even when he pays for it with his own life.”

  “But I can’t come back like he does,” I said.

  “And neither can I. That’s why you have to question your commitment. What’s it worth to you? My job has been to keep you safe for the past ten years, but that job’s over now. You’re in charge of your decisions now. Road number two has never been the safer road, but it has gotten you to the fork of this very moment.”

  I glanced over at Nicholae advancing alone onto the bridge. Kafka and his men were now on the opposite side of the bridge, steadily approaching the center—steadily approaching Nicholae.

  I turned back to Mr. Gordon, gave him a nod, grabbed Desiree and pulled her in for what may be our last kiss, and ran after my father.

  When I reached him, he looked over at me and smiled. His eyes fell to my empty holster and he handed me one of his guns, refusing to expend the energy to manifest a new one.

  At a couple hundred paces apart, both groups stopped. Kafka stood stoically in front of his men. I could see Jeremy now, behind Kafka, between Malakye and Cias. I had seen Malakye’s body on the beach, and I’d hoped he was dead. Just like Cias back at the cabin, Malakye was definitely down, but apparently not out. Jeremy didn’t look abused, but the somber expression of defeat I’d seen on his face ever since Richard left was as heartbreaking as any injury they could have inflicted.

  A hand touched mine and I flinched. Desiree, joined by Mr. Gordon and Colton, lined up beside me. I found her hand again after my initial shock.

  “That’s sweet,” Kafka said, his dark eyes glued to Desiree and me. “Young love in the face of adversity.” His grin was wide, imitating genuine emotion. He wore a sleeveless black shirt without the protection of a bulletproof vest, unlike the rest of his men. I could see the rings of tattoos snaking down both arms. From more of a distance, they simply looked like shirt sleeves. Each ring had a varying thickness—reminding me of the rings on the inside of a tree trunk or the magnificent rings of Saturn—and stopped at the edge of his wolf-head tattoo.

  “Here we are again,” Kafka said, turning his attention to Nicholae. “We seem to keep finding ourselves at these impasses.”

  I looked down at the cracks in the bridge. The two cars left as a single mangled corpse rotted behind us. One thick cable had fallen and extended across the road between our two groups, partially coiled like a monstrous serpent. Several other cables hung limply over either side of the bridge. A crow cawed, accompanied by a chorus of others from its murder—all of them perched atop a still-intact cable above.

  “I suppose you want a trade,” Nicholae said. “One brother for another. Or for me, perhaps?”

  “Oh come on, Nicholae. I know you’d never trade your real life for anyone, least of all your ex-mistress’ son. We’re not standing before each other now for a trade. I have no interest in one. You can escape with what’s left of your pathetic rebellion at any time. It’s a waste of energy to attack. I’ve lost enough men today.”

  “Then what is this?”

  “A score to settle—with him.” Kafka pointed back to Jeremy. “Justice must be served and I want all of you here to witness his punishment.”

  Kafka waved a hand. Malakye and Cias walked Jeremy forward, each man tightly holding an arm. I noticed the man with the fiery red hair and beard—Georges—as they stepped forward. He held a helmet against his hip.

  “No!” I yelled and lunged for my captive brother. If Nicholae was going to stand back, I’d force him into action by going in for the attack.

  I didn’t get three steps before a section of the bridge before me broke free and collapsed into the canyon below. A thirty-foot-wide section of road had instantly crumbled, extending all the way to the support beams on either edge of the bridge. One foot was already halfway into open air when Nicholae grabbed my wet vest and pulled me back to safety.

  Jeremy was left standing only inches away from the other edge of jagged concrete. Severed steel beams below protruded from under the concrete like broken bones. The two men holding his arms seemed unfazed by the sudden collapse.

  “Jeremy!” I screamed, not knowing what else to say.

  He looked at me only for a moment, then down into the hole before him. His vest and gun belt had already been taken from him. I could already see him plunging to his death, but I shook the thought away. As soon as I did, the scene of Anna lying on her bed with red rivers flowing down her arms crept into my consciousness.

  “No!” I cried, more to my internal pictures now than what was about to happen to my brother. It didn’t matter whether my eyes were open or shut, my imagination was as clear as the world around me. It was an all-consuming nightmare.

  Malakye and Cias dropped Jeremy’s arms and stepped away, returning to the other stationary soldiers while Kafka approached Jeremy at the edge of the world.

  I pictured myself being held by the neck on the edge of Lorne Tower. The man intent on killing me that day and the one hovering over my brother now were so different in appearance—but they were both the bogeyman of my childhood. Kafka looked about my age, younger than even Nicholae’s startling appearance.

  “You wore out your welcome in this world when you killed me. You didn’t know I’d be back at the time. You thought you had won. Well, the joke’s on you. Karma’s a bitch, and now you’ll get to see just how nasty she can be.” Kafka waved to one of his men standing by Cias to approach.

  Jeremy’s body slowly lifted until his toes were about an inch off the ground. After a moment of being suspended in the air, his whole body swiveled until his back was to us.

  “Remove your helmet,” Kafka said to the soldier now standing before Jeremy.

  The soldier immediately obeyed.

  “Do you recognize this boy?” Kafka asked.

  Jeremy nodded.

  “I know your brother and his little girlfriend do as well.” Kafka shot a glance to us with a sinister smirk and then back to Jeremy and Eli.

  “Now, I’m sure you recognize this.” A small metal object appeared in Kafka’s right hand and he held it up to give Jeremy a good look.

  Jeremy’s suspended body blocked the object from my view—but then Kafka stepped aside and held it out so we all could clearly see.

  It was a flathead screwdriver.

  “An eye for an eye,” Kafka said, placing a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, patting him a few times before giving him a hard push, sending him spinning in space like a hanged man on a gallows. “Eli here will do the honors.”

  Eli took an unsteady step back. Kafka reached long to hand him the screwdriver.

  I felt sick. This time, the horror before me was not my imagination, it was really happening. Every muscle in my body screamed. My mouth was dry and my throat closed up. I felt helpless and immobilized.

  “Take it,” Kafka demanded, and after a moment’s delay, Eli did what he was told. “Now do what I brought you here to do.”

  The screwdriver shook in Eli’s hand. He looked as sick as I felt. The rage I saw from him in the asylum was no longer there. He was as scared and unsure as the rest of us, thrown into a world and situation way over his head—and it was my fault. I initially brought him here. If it wasn’t for me, he and Anna would still be safely at home. If it
wasn’t for me…

  Jeremy’s body continued to spin in midair. His face was completely overtaken by fear, so much so that I had to briefly look away. But even that didn’t stop the tears. Desiree was crying, too.

  “I can’t,” Eli said, his voice cracking on the second word.

  “You can do anything you set your mind to,” Kafka said, sounding oddly like Mr. Gordon. “I’ve taken you in with pride and given you a place at my side. I’ve shown you things that have opened your entire world—and I can show you more. But you must prove your loyalty to me if you want to remain here. I told you that, and I told you it wouldn’t be easy. This is your test, and I believe—I know you have what it takes! Now do it!”

  “No,” I croaked just above a whisper. “No, Eli, don’t do it.” The tears were flowing freely now. “Please…”

  I reached out to Eli in my mind—I reached for the screwdriver. I knew if I was able to get it that Kafka would just manifest another one, but I had to try. It was killing me to stand by and do nothing.

  I felt the thin metal shaft, grasped it tightly somewhere in my mind, and pulled as hard as I could, knowing it would pull free from Eli’s grasp—but it didn’t.

  Kafka swung around to face us with an intensity I could reserve only for monsters. “Don’t!” he spat.

  He could somehow feel what I was trying to do and thwarted my efforts. My heart sank even further. There truly was nothing left I could do.

  Eli timidly took a step closer to Jeremy’s spinning body. His arm holding the screwdriver was taut and he frequently adjusted his grip. He never looked at us. He barely even looked at Jeremy.

  “Your hesitation is only making it worse for him,” Kafka said. “Isn’t that right, Jeremy? Waiting is truly the hardest part.”

  I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe. Everyone seemed to be completely frozen in place, except for Jeremy, who continued to steadily turn.

  With a quick jab, Eli thrust the screwdriver into Jeremy’s stomach.