I sit ramrod straight and expressionless as Miracle begins his speech, which is a variation of the one he gave last year at the memorial service. He was the city's savior. We owe him a debt of gratitude. His death was tragic. We'll never forget him. It's all so trite I want to stick pencils in my ears to stop the noise. As I'm a glutton for punishment, I glance back at the jumbotron five minutes into the speech. Justice escorts James Ryder, A.K.A. Alkaline, onto the street. His greatest triumph. Little did he know that act would sign not only his death warrant but those of the two people he loved most in the universe. Ryder's handsome face appears almost smug during the perp walk. He had that same expression exactly a year ago on the hospital rooftop as I pointed a shotgun in his face right before he realized I wasn't pulling the trigger. There isn't a day I don't regret that decision. Right now he's in the bowels of Xavier Prison in a nice version of The Hole. He receives no visitors, no letters, one hour of exercise a week with shower afterwords, and from the reports I receive from my spies, he spends most of his day asleep from the tranquilizers or pacing his cell. A living hell. But just the fact he draws breath when Justin, Rebecca, and Daisy don't enrages me so much I want to punch someone. And have.
Miracle finally shuts up and introduces the Triumvirate. The noise level ratchets up to eleven. Tempest steps up to the podium with the other two taking their usual positions behind him. They wave to the crowd and the screams rise up another notch. I'm almost deaf now. Thank you fan girls of Galilee. "What a warm welcome! Thank you," Tempest says. The crowd settles a few seconds later. "We are so honored to be here today. It's humbling to see so many of you here to celebrate such a great man." More applause and a few screams of love boom from the audience. "We're not really big on speeches, so I'll keep this short. We only worked with Justice once a few years back, but that man sure could make an impression. We were astounded not only by his professionalism but also his compassion. This wasn't a game to him. It wasn't about thrill seeking or glory as it is for some." He pauses, "Present company included." The crowd chuckles, as does Tempest. "No, he was a true believer. A believer in the betterment of humanity. That it is all our duties to help our fellow man, or woman, if we are capable. It's not always easy, or fun, but it's the only way we can really survive. Live together or die alone. Justin Pendergast believed in that principal, and he was willing to sacrifice his life for it. But he did not die alone, as all of you here prove. We're proud to have called him a friend and to continue the work he began. As should all of you be. He was a good man, one of the best, and he will never be forgotten. Thank you."
And the audience goes wild. Screams, applause, whistles loud enough to burst eardrums. Great, I have to follow that like Mort Stilson and his polka band after Elvis rocked the house. The trio smile at me as they sit. I'm too nervous to smile back. That damn Tempest and Miracle pretty much covered all I was going to say. The show must go on though. I force myself to stand and make my way to the podium. I hate public speaking on a good day, and today ain't one of those. My breath is ragged and hands shake as I pull out my now useless speech. I can do this.
I scan the crowd. He's nowhere to be found. Last year I thought I saw him with that same proud smile on his face, and it helped me get through the speech. So I glance back at Nightingale, who gives me an encouraging smile. It'll have to do. I turn back. Mouth, take it away.
"I, um," I clear my throat, "yeah, pretty much everything I wanted to say was said already. Justin Pendergast was a great man, one of the best, and we miss him. End of story. So instead, I'll take this time to thank the Triumvirate for not only coming today, but for all they've done since adopting our city. This past year," I scoff, "has been a tough one to say the least. Our crime rate skyrocketed, our economy suffered, hell people were afraid to leave their homes. One man dies and the whole world goes to hell. I don't know if it's just human nature or what, but…shame on us for letting that happen."
The audience murmurs, but I continue on. "It should be up to each and every one of us to make sure that doesn't happen, not just those with the misfortune of having been born special. Justice loved this city, he loved its citizens, he believed in all of you, and he gave his life for that belief. He martyred himself, they all did, in part to make this world a better place. And every time we bully someone, ignore another's pain because it's easier, or turn a blind eye, we are spitting on that sacrifice." Okay, I know I need to shut up but my mouth won't stop moving. "I'm just as guilty as the rest of you. Really it was me he died for. He killed himself to save me. And what did I do? I self-destructed. Ended up hurting all the people who cared about me. I almost squandered the gift he gave me. I almost let that sacrifice be in vain. I almost let the evil he was fighting win. I won't let that happen again." I shake my head and scoff. "And hell, if I can do it, so can you. Start small. Volunteer somewhere. Give money to charity. If you see someone being picked on, speak out. And whenever you pass this fountain, remember these words: 'The only way for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.' Live by them. Be someone's hero. Because this world sure as hell needs some. Thank you."
There's scattered applause from the stunned peanut gallery until the three heroes behind me rise to give me a standing ovation. Their enthusiasm gets the rest clapping too, though not as enthusiastically as my friends. I half smile at my cheering section as I walk over to the ribbon holding up the sheet on the fountain. The mayor barely has time to stand as I unceremoniously grab the stupid big scissors and cut the ribbon. I'm supposed to pose, but I need to get the hell out of here before I really lose it. The sheet falls, revealing the light gray slate fountain of scales. I shove the scissors back at Miracle before fleeing the stage. Think I just lost some popularity points.
Everyone backstage gawks as I walk in, not that I give a shit. I have to get away from here. Fast. Where the hell is my purse? "Hey, are you okay?" V asks, following behind me.
"I can't find my purse," I say, checking by the food.
"It's over here," she says, pointing to the chairs.
Thank God. "Thanks." I pick it up.
"Jo, are you sure you're okay? What you said was--"
"I know. It just, it needed to be said. If the truth makes me unpopular then I'm willing to make that sacrifice. And you can quote me on that."
"Here, here," Liberty cheers as she comes backstage. "That was bad-ass, JoJo. Kudos. And you can quote me on that too, reporter girl."
The gang's all here. I glance at the livid mayor, impassive Tempest, and concerned Nightingale. "What in the hell was--" Miracle says.
"Leave her alone," Nightingale orders, voice hard as titanium. Miracle's mouth snaps shut for the first time ever. Nightingale takes a step toward me. "Miss Fallon, are you alright?"
"Fine. I just have to get back to work. Excuse me."
I turn away from prying eyes and haul ass. When I step outside, the dispersing crowd eyes me with apprehension. Great, guess that could have gone better. At least I didn't have a panic attack, just verbal diarrhea. Yeah, much better. People love being made to feel like shit. I stride as fast as my high heels can take me out of the park, joining the anonymous people on the city sidewalks. I'm going to wander until I find the cork to the bottle of my emotions again.
That is if there are enough miles on the planet.
*
My aching feet know where I need to go. After about half a mile, I kick off my heels and pad barefoot along the river walk. The wet pavement does feel wonderful against my feet. Carefree college students and others jog past me without a glance. Just another normal person out and about on a normal day. I guess I knew where I was going when I left the tent. I've been putting this off for a year. I've been tempted a few times, even pushed the elevator button, but chickened out when the doors opened. Probably going to do the same today, but I am damn well going to try.
Just not alone.
I walk into the hospital, past the volunteer receptionists who know me to the elevators. Jem's office is on the fifteenth floor with the o
ther neurologists. A few nurses glance at me and my now black bare feet, but I ignore them. Miranda, assistant to Jem and two others, grins as I approach. "Hello, Miss Fallon. Dr. Ambrose isn't here at the moment."
Of course not. "Do you know when he's expected back?"
"No, sorry. I can tell him you stopped by."
"No, that's okay. Thank you."
I trudge to the elevators in a haze. I don't know if I could or really should do this alone. Right now everything within me is disconnected, including the wiring inside my brain. Nothing seems real, nothing's substantial as if I'm a ghost haunting this realm. The last time I experienced this was before my last binge. I wanted the nothingness to remain so I drank for three days to make sure it would. Okay, I need to find a meeting. I resolve right now to not even look at alcohol for the rest of the day. I'll attend a dozen meetings if I have to. But first this. I have to do this. With or without Jem.
I ride the elevator up and down for a few minutes, standing in the back corner like a wallflower. Pregnant women, nurses, visitors, parties in wheelchairs all enter and leave. None go to my floor. I was hoping fate would intervene, but she must be busy. Hell, is she was in front of me, I'd punch the bitch in the face for all the literal grief she's determined is my lot in life. When the last person, a doctor I vaguely recognize, steps off on the eighth floor the elevator remains still. It won't move unless someone presses the button. I wait fifteen seconds for someone to save me from this, but no joy. Moment of truth. I take a deep breath and step forward to press the button for the roof.
The doors open a few tense seconds later, and I'm there. I think I may throw up.
It's windy, expanding my chills exponentially. I tug my coat closer. This was a stupid idea. What the hell was I thinking? The doors begin to close but my arm, acting on its own, blocks it. My legs have joined the revolt because they move me onto the concrete roof. I'm here. I did it. And it's exactly as I remember it. Raised helipad with a ramp. Stairwell door with a light above it. Huge silver air conditioning vents and other large machines. Chain link fence at an angle around the perimeter of the ledge strong enough to hold one but not two people. My nightmare landscape. The scene of the final battle between two godlike men hell bent on destroying each other with me caught in the middle.
It looks so…normal.
My legs propel me forward, but my brain is a few seconds behind. The stairwell door looks the same, undamaged, but if examined closely there are a few dents in the metal door and in the wall beside patches in lighter colors. Bullet holes from when Alkaline's goons shot at me. Missed blowing my brains out by a few centimeters. When I came back out with Justin, I shot right on back. Got a goon right between the eyes. The second man I've ever killed, and I pray the last. Though I had no choice either time sometimes guilt overwhelms me. No matter the justification, I've still taken lives. It's a heavy burden no matter the circumstances. I don't linger here.
I pass by the air ducts where I had a showdown with a woman I thought I'd known for two decades. She'll be spending the next two in prison, longer if I have anything to say about it. Can't wait for her first parole hearing. She let a monster out of his cage all in the name of love, then stood by as he raped and murdered two innocent women and a child. That bitch will never be free as long as I draw breath.
Finally, I round the corner of the helipad where the worst of it occurred. The concrete on the ground is uneven as if riddled with anthills, the only sign of "the epic battle" as it's called. There are small patches where Alkaline dripped acid and bigger ones the size of fists and torsos where Justice got in a few licks. By the time I was done with Grace, both men's faces resembled raw hamburger and their bodies were caked in blood. The second most gruesome sight I've seen.
The chain link where I dangled thirty floors up is much shinier than the rest. Look to the left or right and it's gray and red from rust, but the replacement is silver. I must not be the only one who spotted this because there are a few bouquets of flowers and cards resting against this spot. There's even a candle extinguished from the rain. I heard the janitor comes up here to remove the makeshift memorial that pops up every day. They keep trying to erase what happened here, but they can't. Not all the way. I pull out some matches and re-light the candle.
It was night last time I was up here. As I held onto that fence for dear life in a fucking cocktail dress, all I could see was darkness below. Before I can stop myself, I walk to the edge and peer down. The Andalucía River is nothing but a dark line as thick as a piece of tape. An abyss if there ever was one. Across the river, the Falls, white water over black onyx, continues its never-ending cycle. It's beautiful. I hope as he fell Justin got to see this majesty of nature one last time.
I close my eyes. Our last moments together occurred right here. Alkaline stood where I am now, grinning down at us with triumph as the fence continued to rip apart one link at a time. Justin, once Adonis revisited, held on with only one hand above me beaten, burned, Broken. He gazed down at me, peace filling his face, sending terror to mine. The moment my eyes met his, I knew. I knew his heart as I knew mine. Always had. I love you. His last words were, "I love you." To me. I didn't have to say them back before he let go. I felt his body fall beside me and did nothing.
His last words were, "I love you."
"Joanna?"
My tear filled eyes fly open, and I spin around. Jem stands a few feet away, concern radiating from his every pore. His hair is a mess, wild and his clothes rumpled. No glasses either. He came in a hurry. Not like him to forget the details. "Joanna, please get away from there. It's dangerous."
I turn back to the abyss. "I was just thinking. About last words."
"Last words?"
"Yeah. I read the most common are, 'Oh, shit' or 'Oh, God.' Justin's were, 'I love you.' He looked me square in the eyes and told me he loved me. He'd said it in passing a few times, the usual, 'You're my friend, I love you,' type of thing, but deep down I never really believed him. If he loved me then he should love me, you know? Like I did him. But at that moment, his last moment, I finally became a believer. Because that's what love is, right? Putting someone before yourself? For twenty years he loved me, and I think I just now realized he loved me a hell of a lot more than I loved him. If I even really did love him. Maybe I'm just not capable of it. Two people were on that fence, and the thought of letting go never even crossed my mind. Not even for a millisecond. But it crossed his. Because he was good, and strong, and capable of the biggest love of all. And he's dead. And I'm here. It should have been me."
"No," Jem says forcefully. All of a sudden he's next to me, grabbing and turning me toward him. "No."
"Anyway you look at it, his life was worth more than mine. I die, a few people are sad for awhile, but they move on. He dies, the whole city implodes." I wipe a tear off my cheek. "Who the hell am I? I'm nothing. A traumatized alcoholic who ruins everything and everyone she comes into contact with."
"That's not true."
"It is. I hurt everyone I care about. Justin, Harry, Lucy. I make everything worse. I mean, why the hell would God let me live when such better people die? Rebecca, Daisy, my dad, Justin. It-It-It doesn't make sense."
"No, it doesn't. That's why it's the eternal question: why him and not me? Why does a murderer go free while an innocent man is convicted? Why does my brother draw breath but Uma doesn't? There is no answer, Joanna. I've searched for it all my life and haven't found a clue. And believe me when I say if you let that question take over your life, it can nearly destroy you. Pursuing that question allows guilt to guide your life, and that is no way to live it." He closes his eyes. "Believe me." He opens his beautiful eyes again, looking square in mine. They're brimming with sadness and hope. "You-You turn around and survey your life, your goals, and you don't recognize them. Or yourself. But you continue looking because the quest is all you have. And you're alone. So alone for so long with only that guilt to drive you that when someone wonderful comes along, so wonderful you actually begin to i
magine another life for yourself full of love and joy, it rocks you to your core. You've seen the dawn after a million starless nights, and it's beautiful, but you're afraid it's just an illusion. That it'll be taken from you, or that you never really saw it, and you're alone again once more with that ache. I don't want that for you. Justin wouldn't either. You survived. You're alive. So live."
I can't hold back a moment longer. I fling myself against him, wrapping my arms around his torso in a hug. His limbs envelop me as I finally allow myself to burst into tears right against his pulsing heart. It beats so fast and strong against my cheek. Our limbs melding, his warm body feeding my cold one, his smell of stale sweat mixed with faint cologne, all of it bliss.
We remain like this for one perfect second before I sense him gazing down at me. I pull apart to look up but don't dare meet his eyes. His hands move to my cheeks, cradling my face. His thumbs wipe my still falling tears, and I place my hands over his. "Please tell me I'm not crazy," he whispers desperately. "Please tell me I'm not imagining this. Please tell me you feel this too. Please."
I want to speak, but the words won't come out. Everything becomes real when you say it out loud. Somehow I find the courage to gaze into his eyes, the sadness brimming in them shifts to awe and something else that scares me to fucking death. I leap away. "I-I have to go. I-I can't…I'm sorry. Bye."
Like the fucking coward I am, I sprint off that rooftop as fast as I can, down the stairwell, and out of the hospital before all my resolve fades. I can't take much more of this. I can't keep this up. He just needs to…no. I stop at the edge of the dark river to catch my breath. No more. This needs to end one way or another. I'm done.
Galilee Rising (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Page 13
