Glow (19 page)

61.

Lukas

“She’s gone and it’s our fault. This is all our fault!” She pummels her hands in my chest, screaming.

“What is our fault?”

“Timid. She died in your fire and she died because I was angry. I let her know I was disappointed. She was just a child. I’ll never be brave like my mother wanted. I’m a murderer. We are murderers!” She shrieks, pushing her strength against me, face red and streaked with the shame she feels.

“No, we’re not. We did what we could do. She did what she could do.”

“You’re wrong, Lukas. We did what we wanted to do. We let her die. She kept telling me that we needed to get back to the Refuge. To Integrity. That was all she wanted in life and now she’ll never get that.”

“You aren’t to blame. I started the fire. I did that. My parents almost died, Lucy. They would have died if it wasn’t for Timid’s bravery.” I want her to be gentle with herself, grieve the loss, yes … but not punish herself for the way it happened.

“You don’t want to take any responsibility, Lukas. You think it can all be washed away with your light. Well, it can’t. This world …
the one we live in right now
… is not like the world you’re used to. Do you see that? Everything changed the moment I showed up. The moment I entered The Light everything got ruined.” Her shouts hit me, hard. I want to say the words that will help her, but nothing will.

“You didn’t ruin everything. It isn’t about you, Lucy. At least, not only you. Things were unraveling in ways neither of us understood before you ever came. Before you ever left. Going back in time, holding on to the regret of wishing you hadn’t followed your mom here, or wishing you hadn’t let Charles take you to me at The Light
… that
won’t help you live your life right now
.”

“Easy for you to say, Lukas. You have no idea the sorts of pain the rest of us have dealt with. You’ve lived in your marble castle and have no clue!”

“Take that back, Lucy.” Her words stab my most vulnerable places. It hits the fear that my life was lived with false significance, people pandering to my face, lies told in my ears. Secret kept from me, lives lived without me.

Alone.

“I won’t take it back. It’s the truth and you know it.” When the words leave her lips, her shouting stops, but her heart is broken. She pushes on me the guilt she feels inside.

I understand.

Haven’t I done the same to her, over and over and over again?

“Timid chose how she wanted to live and she chose how she wanted to die. That is bravery.” I say the truth to her. “We are not murderers.”

“She was just a child, Lukas. I never forgave her. I never let her know it was all going to be okay. I let Junie take care of her because I was scared I’d mess it all up. And look what I still did!” She throws up her hands, but this time pulls them around my waist, and lets herself go. The cries become deeper, as her pain is finally allowed a chance to breathe.

I let her cry.

And I cry too. My tears are quieter though, as her words sink into my skin. My pain has been different than so many other people’s. I still have my family intact, here with me right now. There is no one else who can say that. Everyone else, fighting here with us, is broken in ways I am not. That Charles is not. That Mom and Dad are not.

That is the sort of guilt that can tear a man apart.

The weight of my pain has always been different. Until I met Lucy. Suddenly there was someone who understood me.

“We’ll keep making mistakes, you know that? Because we are human.”

“I know, Lukas. I just hope someday, when all this is over, my heart will feel whole.”

62.

Lucy

The boat pushes off and we’re on our way to Refuge One. We hope the Councilmen fled there, to strategize with Head Councilman Conviction. I’m still surprised a witch-hunt wasn’t ordered for Lukas’s head. Lukas says they may have had a few guns, but have nowhere near the strength to fight us. Charlie and Jax confirmed that with their account of the fight on the bridge.

My eyes still burn from this morning’s break down over Timid. Lukas told me it was a break through, but I’ve never been as optimistic as him. All I know is Timid is gone and I never had a chance to say good-bye. And the death toll is climbing.

We need to put a stop to this.

Jax comes out to the deck where I’m sitting on a green metal bench, facing the sound in all its glory. I think I’ll always find ways to marvel at the beauty of the world, I can’t imagine a time that it would grow old.

“You ready to face the men who killed your mom?” he asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I mean, I don’t know what I think about us
actually killing
them though.”

“What do you mean?” Jax tucks his black hair behind his ears. “Isn’t that the while point of this?” He spreads his hands out, to the boat.

“Yeah. I mean, we need to put a stop to this. For sure. I just don’t want any blood on my hands.” I know I sound like a naïve girl, but it’s how I feel. Especially after losing Timid. “Like, I don’t want to be the judge of whether someone should live or die.”

“I know everyone always thought Reagan was a big terrible drunk. And he was. I mean terrible and drunk. But he wasn’t always like that. He used to be … fatherly.”

“How long were you at the Safe House?” I’ve never really spoken with Jax, after the whole prison thing.

“I was there for five years, with him. Reagan took a liking to me, said I reminded him of his son. I guess his kids were young enough to join. His wife died, and they wandered all the way here from a place called Colorado. He’d heard of The Light and wanted his kids to survive.”

It’s easy to forget there was once a big wide world out there that people experienced. Right now the world feels so small. Just us versus The Light, and that’s it.

“Do you think there are lots more pockets of people in the world?” I ask.

“Some. But not a lot. The United States was the last to get hit, you know. The other continents were wiped out faster than the US. So we had more time to prepare. That’s why people like your family were lucky. They built that whole compound expecting for something horrible to happen. Most people don’t think that way.”

“My family didn’t exactly think things through. They went quite mad.”

“We all are, in some way or another, aren’t we?” Jax shakes his head at me. “I mean Reagan was heartbroken over losing his wife and kids and drank away his sorrow. Your dad couldn’t handle the fear of the unknown. Ernie and Layla? Those two have lost their minds plenty of times over leaving Lukas.”

He’s right, of course.

“Do you think we can avoid causing more pain?”

“What, by not killing the psychotic brainwashing leaders of that cult?” He laughs, softly.

“Something like that.”

“I guess the question is, whether or not they will cause more pain dead or alive?”

“That’s easy,” I answer. “Alive. I mean, they killed my mother by their inaction. They promote abuse to wom--”

Jax cuts me off.

“I know all of that. But I mean, is it even possible to kill all the bad people in the world?”

“It depends on how many people are out there, past Colorado, past the world we know.”

“There will always be more people, Lucy. There will always be more darkness, even if we kill all the Councilmen.”

“I know,” I say, because I do. “I think we are what the world used to call Dissenters. Ones who disagree.”

“All I’m saying is Reagan had parts of him that were dark, but parts that weren’t. You saw enough of that to heal him and save his life. Your impulse was to give life, not take it away.”

“Charlie said there must be dark to see the light.”

“Charlie’s a pretty smart guy. Speaking of, I thought you were with him. Before, or for a while? But now Lukas?”

“It was always Lukas. Charlie and I are too alike. Both looking for freedom in all the wrong places.”

“What is the right place to find freedom?”

“Right where we’re standing. We can always find it if we want it bad enough.”

We stand and look out to the horizon. What we see stops us in our tracks, not that we were moving.

“Shit.” Jax says. And I couldn’t agree more.

63.

Charlie

We argue whether or not it’s just grey clouds for a few minutes before we see the distant red flames.

Now there’s no doubt it’s a fire.

Refuge One, which we are fast approaching, has been set on fire. As we inch closer it’s clear the burn has been going for hours, if not longer. We don’t see any boats in the distance, and no boats sit at their dock. Some people may have left, but there’s no way they could have transported seven hundred people somewhere safely. I’d bet my life the Council and Humblemen saved themselves. Maybe a first mate, but not much else. There wouldn’t be room. My stomach is in knots.

I know I should be thinking about the hundreds of Vessels who may have died today, but I only think of one.

Dad drives the ferry to its landing, with confidence. I’m grateful for that, because frankly if we had to worry about maneuvering this ship along with everything else, we’d be screwed.

“Call everyone in here, Charlie. Make sure to get Junie. We need her,” Mom orders me.

Mom’s been distant since we started this voyage, and I bet it’s because her plan of defeating The Light included putting her youngest son in a coma. I haven’t seen Lukas say two words to her or Dad.

I walk out to the deck where everyone has gathered. Before I make it outside to them though, I go into the bathroom, and splash ice-cold water on my face.

Get a grip, Charlie. She’s either alive or she isn’t
.

Looking in the mirror, I see a young man hardened over time. The dream of sunrises and sunsets seem like a make-believe world I used to want to live in. Now I want something different. Now I want something real. I can’t reach the moon, or the stars. I want what I can touch. I want what I can feel.

I want Perfection.

I swing the bathroom door behind me, calling out to the crew, “Come on, meeting time. We’ve got to make decisions fast.”

But I already know my decision. And I’m not waiting for them to make theirs.

Everyone starts heading back to the control room, but I pull back. I’m going a different way.

I run down the stairwell, past the horses. This Refuge sits right off the main ferry landing and I can get there faster on foot.

And when it comes down to it, I want Lucky to live.

The smoke rises quickly, and I walk over cooling embers and ash. The green growth that surrounds the Pacific Northwest is charred, disintegrated like a giant bonfire gone bad.

The smell is what fills my lungs first. The deep, debilitating smell of flesh. I choke back tears as I pull my shirt up against my mouth and nose. It isn’t the smoky sky that hurts; it’s the knowledge that many Vessels have died, hours ago.

I hope to God she isn’t one of them.

I can make out the paved path, but fallen debris covers the once perfectly swept trail. There are fallen bodies on the ground. I turn, quickly, so I don’t have to face the images of blackened corpses.

The giant steel door to the great room is swung wide open. The entire Refuge remains standing as well, its marble interior and stone exterior will weather this.

Black smoke coats the walls, and once inside I see how the fire swept through here, totally and completely, tapestries set in flames, furniture charred and laid to waste. I can only guess how many people have turned to ash. Small fires burn slowly, but the worst of the blazing fire is the trees on the outskirts of the island that we saw on the ferry as we docked.

I jog through the corridor, holding my jacket over my face, covering my mouth and nose, my eyes burning. The Light built their Refuges to survive the test of time. I won’t be here when it falls. It was built to stand when the prophet came back to the Earth. I won’t stick around for that circus act.

I try to avoid the lifeless people in my path. Women. Children. Wives. Sons. Daughters. I try to avoid the fact that I might not find what I’m looking for. Who I’m looking for.

All the doors have swung open, revealing what were once Humblemen’s chambers and Vessels’ quarters. Empty rooms filled only with the remains of a once pristine world, now burned.

Like the barn.

Like Lucy’s apple tree.

Like so many pieces of every one of us.

Like the world my parents knew.

Gone. Turned to ash.

I come to the Energy Room and walk down the steps to see what has happened to this once vibrant space. I only ever saw it full of light. Now it’s empty. Copper wires hang from the ceiling, but nothing else remains. It’s been ransacked just like the room at Refuge Two. The Councilmen knew what they were taking. This technology is what they cling to.

I run back into the hallway, turning left, then right, winding my way around the Refuge, headed to the back. To the place I am scared to go, but know is the only way someone would have survived.

The dark rooms.

My hope is that when the fire struck, these rooms were sealed tight enough to avoid being snuffed out. There’s a long row of doors, two dozen at least. All closed. I grab the handle on the first door and try to open it, but it doesn’t budge.

“No!” I scream to no one, to everyone. I pound on the door, wanting someone, anyone on the other side, to hear my fist and throw their fist back, as if somehow my fighting with the door will help it open.

No one responds.

Hot tears cut my face, the smoke is mostly gone from this area, but I still choke on the fumes. Choke on my tears.

“It’s okay, Charles,” Lukas says.

He came.

For me.

Me, the brother who is forever jealous and never understanding. The brother who pushes against the things he stands for, the brother who has no supernatural strength, the brother who tried to take his girl.

Me. A weak half-man, half-child, fighting for the things I want but rarely willing to fight for much else.

He came for me.

“Lukas,” I cry, throwing my arms around the person who has known me the longest, but who terrifies me because he’s all the things I’m not.

“It’s okay. I can open them. All of them. We will find her. If she is here, we will find her.” He voice steady, his light strong.

“How did you know?” I ask, confused.

“It was always her, for you, wasn’t it?”

And I guess in some ways it was.

Lukas starts with the door I just pounded on. He opens it with a swift touch of his hand. The same move I saw Lucy do so many weeks ago with the rope around her wrists when he mother was held captive on the waterfront.

The tiny closet of a room is empty and barren. Lukas steps inside of the hell hole, his light fills the space, but no one is here to see. I want to give in, break down right there. The amount of loss around us suffocating.

“She’s not going to be here,” I say. “She was probably lost in the--.”

Lukas stops me. “Don’t say that. We don’t know anything yet. One door at a time.”

I watch as he continues down the corridor. Third door down he opens it to reveal a small girl, trembling. When she sees us, she starts to whimper.

“Help me. I promise to be good. Always pure.” Her small brown eyes plead with the wrong people.

“Shh, now, you’re okay. You’re okay, sweetie.” I put my arms around her, helping her up from the ground. She can barely stand, she’s so dehydrated.

Lukas keeps going down the hall, on a mission. To find Perfection and get us out. Quick.

Another door reveals a woman Mom’s age hobbling, clutching Lukas’s arm. Then there is a teenager, then an old woman. It doesn’t stop. Soon there are nine women with us. All parched, hungry, and near collapse.

I remember Lucy telling me about when she and Lukas rescued Vessels at Refuge Three, but it was impossible to picture the cruelty they witnessed. To picture Basil and Hana confined to these spaces until they broke and were sent to the Rehab Center. Where Tasers were set against their foreheads as light was sucked out of them leaving them blank, numb, and empty of life. I think of the Vessels left at Refuge Two who didn’t make it, who didn’t get as lucky as Lucy and Lukas, as Basil and Hana.

I think of Timid.

I think of Perfection.

“Lukas, how many are left?” I want to know and I don’t. Getting to the end of this hall without her scares me. But she might still be at Refuge Three. Might. If for some reason the Council decided to save her.

“A few more. I’m going as fast as I can,” he says walking to the next door. I stand with the rescued women who are huddle together. “Charles, come here.”

I walk over, bending to see inside.

And I see her.

Perfection.

And she is.

Despite her matted hair and torn clothes
…
no, not in
spite of …
she still sees me and smiles. Smiles behind terrified eyes and a bruised face. She smiles at me behind the years we’ve been apart, the way I rejected her, the way she ran from me. She smiles because she knows. Knows me.

Lukas leaves to open the rest of the doors, wanting to get the rest of the women, and us, to safety.

“It was always my dream,” she says, through cracked lips with raspy words from her dry throat. “That you would look back and remember.”

“Remember what?” I ask, realizing how fragile she’s become since I first left. Left her.

“Me. That you would remember me.”

I lean over and pick her up. This tender-hearted girl, who I cherish in ways I didn’t think I could.

“You are unforgettable,” I say and I carry her out of the dark room that protected her from the burning abyss. That protected her in ways I could not.

I carry her out, vowing to never leave her again.