by Guy Harrison
***
We arrive at the emergency room before any of the crash’s victims do and Elena is admitted immediately. The doctors tell me that she’s suffered significant blood loss, not a big shock. The bombshell, however, is the need for an emergency nephrectomy; her kidney has to be removed. Of course, Elena can live without a kidney. The danger, however, lies within her chances of surviving the procedure, given the amount of blood she’s already lost.
While nervously waiting out her operation, I bid adieu to the Latin man who had his otherwise relaxing morning ruined. Before he leaves, we watch as victim upon victim is ushered into the ER. There are broken or severed limbs for some, disfigurations for others. The man—his name was Rolando—then recalls all the violent incidents of the past year—Milan, Philly, Chicago, and Montreal. He ponders out loud whether there is a terrorist organization out to destroy the world one city at a time or if these are honest accidents that perhaps signal that the world as we know it is coming to a violent end. Little does he know that it’s a combination of the two explanations.
While I wait amid the ensuing chaos of the ER’s waiting room, the television is tuned in to coverage of the crash. The news crew on the scene captured many harrowing sound bites.
“I looked up and saw the plane’s nose, just before it hit the bridge,” a woman says, out of breath. “There was just so much dust and smoke … Oh my God.” She places her hand over her mouth as her eyes well up.
Just when I can no longer observe the devastation, I’m drawn back to the television. The news anchors introduce an apocalyptic expert and, together, discuss numerous accounts of a large tidal wave originating from the site of the crash. The newscast cuts to an amateur video of the wave. The expert then hypothesizes that a wave of that size could not have been caused by the plane crash and begins to speculate about the meaning of the worldwide phenomena.
The pundit recalls the helicopter incident in Montreal and professes his belief that our planet is at war with itself. He believes that Earth’s highest deity, which was victorious in Montreal, is currently losing its battle against evil. I’m sure many—but not all—viewers probably think the guy is off his rocker. Still, if you give any credence to the way the Agencies of Justice and Influence view themselves, the anchor was not far off.
My thoughts then turn to Ronni. The A of J knew we were on to them and called on her to at least eliminate us, if not to carry out the disaster. It’s clear: despite being given an opportunity to redeem herself after the train wreck, Ronni’s reached a point from which she cannot return. Once the A of J perfected the Change Machine, I’m sure it didn’t take much for them to coax her back into action. I can only assume that she either has made a home for herself in South Florida or, more likely, she has become one of the A of J’s most accomplished agents. There’s no other explanation for her being the one sent to rid the agency of our triumvirate. But Ronni couldn’t bring herself to bump me off. In that regard, we are very much alike. I’m thankful for that. Presumably, Hamilton wasn’t so lucky.
After spending seven long hours in the waiting room, the doctors finally tell me that Elena successfully made it through her operation, though her life still hangs in the balance due to the loss of blood. My stomach had been in knots as the doctor approached me. But after receiving the news, I exhale a deep breath of relief, however temporary.
In her room now, I stand at Elena’s bedside for a good fifteen minutes, observing her beautiful features. I think about our kiss back at the cemetery and how it could possibly be our last. I then think about how empty I felt after losing Ronni. In truth, I’m only thinking about it in the sense that it is not an emptiness I care to feel again. With the sun gone and the room dimly lit, I kiss Elena’s forehead and caress her face, hoping that she might awaken from her slumber.
Nothing.
Suddenly, I go numb and sit down, unaware of my place in the room.
Images of the past year flash before me. Josh Jenner pinned against the EL pole. My hand intertwined with Ronni’s just before the train wreck. The look on Valerie’s face when I discovered her secret in Clearwater. My long embrace with Elena at the cemetery. And her submerged, lifeless body leaning against the causeway’s wall.
I’ve seen and felt many things these past thirteen months. I would not have experienced any of these things had it not been for the Agencies of Influence and Justice. I’ve come to resent the both of them for that. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? Why couldn’t the A of I leave me to be a fledgling matchmaker, to eventually find my calling? Why couldn’t the A of J leave Ronni to wallow in her own guilt, to eventually turn herself in? Neither agency has any business doing the things that they do, however noble they think their causes are.
I believe in fate, in things happening for a reason. I also believe people should be allowed to have a hand in choosing their destiny. Mark was an example of how the system should work. He was given an alternative but it was ultimately up to him to do the right thing.
Unfortunately, both agencies—especially the A of J—take it too far. Who is the Agency of Influence to decide who’s worthy of goodwill? As Josh Jenner illustrated, they don’t always get it right. And who is the Agency of Justice to decide that all of this carnage is the way to go about cleansing our world? Who’s to say it even needs cleansing? Who’s to say it will ever be fully cleansed?
Both agencies were created for the betterment of society. Unfortunately, the work of one agency does not compensate for the work being done by the other, especially when the first agency’s work can ostensibly be done without its power.
No, both agencies have powers that neither needs nor deserves. Nick, Elena, and I have been going about this all wrong. Ours was a noble undertaking but we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, even as people with our power.
Instead of defending every attack, we need to attack the Agency of Justice at its heart, the Agency of Influence and my personal safety be damned.
