The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (44 page)

It seemed so farcical and humorous to John that these once proud men were being brought so low, begging as they were. He could not help but think of how ridiculous they looked. He wanted to laugh at them. He wanted them to feel his pain.

“Do you know how many wives I’ve taken from their husbands? Or how many husbands I’ve taken from their wives?” John asked Corona.

“No, I don’t,” the old man stuttered.

“Well, how about children?” John continued, directing his attention to Arlington. “How many parents do you think will never see their children again because of my hands?”

“Too many, John, too many. It’s a terrible world out there. I wish I could change it for you, take back everything that happened that day,” Arlington said.

“You’ve made me watch my wife suffer in more ways than you’ll ever know, Lieutenant,” John shouted, pointing the barrel of his pistol at Corona’s wife. “Look into her eyes. It’s your turn to
suffer.”

Corona had only a fraction of a second to look upon his wife, to stand up and take hold of her while she still had life in her, before he was forced to watch her become a hollowed corpse with the light snap of John’s handgun. The wild screams from Arlington’s wife echoed throughout the room as the deceased woman buried her face in her husband’s chest. Corona felt her fall away from his arms, dropping face first into the neatly prepared meal set upon her plate. Her neck hyperextended as the weight of her body pushed into her chair, allowing her to slump under the table, falling to his feet.

Aghast with horror, a muffled, feminine scream trickled from Corona’s open mouth. In the same manner that the bullet had pierced his wife’s temple, leaving its trail of blood and bony matter splattered upon the plush carpet behind him, so too did he succumb to the same fate.

Arlington held up his hand to John, “Don’t shoot, sir. Please, spare us.”

There was a moment of quietness. And Sofia found the courage to remove her hands from her ears.

“John?” she whispered.

Two snaps, like the crackling of burning wood, echoed off the walls of the living room followed by the sound of dead weight hitting the floor. Rounding the corner of the dining room entryway, John approached her, picked up the handheld computers from the floor beside her legs, and held his hand out to her.

“We’re finished here,” he said, “Let’s go home, now.”

Although those were his words, Sofia could see by the expression of his face that his heart was not ready to allow his old self to come back from the dead. Exiting Arlington’s apartment, they closed the door behind them. Working their way in as nonchalant of a manner as they could, they descended the stairwell and headed out the front door of the building.

The street was still as black as night, and the rain continued to drizzle down. Stepping off the entryway stairs, they headed down the shimmering, wet sidewalk, retracing their path back to the airship. Talking into his microphone, John whispered “Team One leader, this is Team Three. How copy?”

With no return answer, John repeated his message, “Team One leader, this is Team Three. How copy?”

The radio was silent. With a sigh of frustration John attempted to make contact with Stephen and Maryanne.

“Team Two, this is Team Three. How Copy?”

Once again, he only received a mute return. Assuming the worst, John began to peer into the windows of the parked transporters that lined the walkway as he dragged Sofia closely behind him.

Too stubborn to mention the infection that had settled into her wounds, Sofia felt like a hindrance to John’s progress. She struggled to keep up with him, always feeling the nagging pressure of her body urging her to stop and rest.

After making one last concerted effort to make contact with the other members of their party, John gave up. Continuing with his vehicle-to-vehicle inspections with energetic urgency, he pulled Sofia along the walkway.

It was not long before he found what he was looking for: the dangling keys of the ignition left by a careless soul. Pulling on the door handle, he was not surprised to find it unlocked. Ushering Sophia inside, she quickly climbed over the center console, settling into the passenger’s seat and buckling the seatbelt. Sliding in behind the wheel, John closed the door behind them.

Firing up the transporter’s engine, John had a sudden feeling of loneliness and desolation well up inside of him, as if he suddenly realized that he had reached the top of a mountain after a hard climb only to find that there was nothing there. He felt no glory in his accomplishment, no satisfaction in achieving what he thought would be the crowning moment that would set him free from all the guilt and hatred.

Closing his eyes, he tried to lower the wall of flame that was growing up within his mind, but it was too resilient. No matter how many times he would fight to bring it down, it always seemed to win in the end. Maybe this was not the mountain, he thought. Perhaps that elusive, crowning achievement was to be found
elsewhere.

Expecting at any moment to feel the vehicle accelerating, Sofia noticed that John was motionless. His eyes were closed, as if he were
asleep.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine,” John responded, as his eyes popped open. “I was just thinking.”

Pulling the vehicle away from the curb, he drove them out of the residential area and back to the entertainment district, leading them to their escape.

Idling within the city’s rain soaked traffic once again, the stolen transporter was aglow under the neon lights of the boulevard. John’s fist throbbed from pounding the dashboard with such frequency. His angered outbursts had taken control under the stress of having to worry about Sofia’s safety. He feared having to relive the Basket Town incident all over again. If only he had been on this mission alone. Killing everyone that got in his way, carving out a path of destruction leading directly to the escape vehicle, would be too easy. But, with Sofia nearby, her innocence was harping upon his weaker emotions, creating a struggle between, what seemed to be, his two natures: one that feared no consequences of his violent actions, and one that detested the actions themselves.

A sudden pulse of static was brought to his ear followed by the Captain’s panting voice, “This is Team One. Do you copy, Team Three?”

Pinching the switch on his mic, John responded, “Team One, this is Team Three, go ahead.”

“Team Three, be advised, the LZ has been compromised. Military forces are inbound. Two of three targets neutralized. How copy?”

“Copy all, Team One. What’s the plan now.”

“Check your handheld for my location. I’m closing in on my man. I need you to have a vehicle waiting and ready at the marked location. I’ll explain the rest later. Out.”

“Copy that. We’re on the move.”

Retrieving the computer from his pocket, John flipped on the switch at the side of its casing. A digital map popped up on the display. According to Banks’ current position, he was roaming somewhere at the far end of the entertainment district.

“What did he say?” Sofia asked.

John glanced over his shoulder, negligent to the fact that the vehicle in the next lane over was taking up the space he desired. Steering in front of the transporter beside them, its tires sheered atop the asphalt as the stranger slammed on his brakes. John’s erratic action was immediately answered with a blaring horn.

“He said he needs us to be ready for him. He’s apparently getting ready to make the hit,” he said, mindless to the collision he had nearly initiated.

The sidewalk was within a meter’s reach. They were making little progress within the confines of the slow paced traffic. Sofia began to fear that John would make them abandon the transporter, hoofing the rest of the way to the Captain’s position. He kept eyeballing the walkway with an expression molded in desperation. He was up to something.

“John, what are you thinking?” Sofia questioned, cringing under the sharp, throbbing pain of her leg.

“Are you buckled in?” he asked, reaching across her lap, feeling for the tension of her restraining belt.

“Buckled in? For what?” Sofia began to say.

An opening between the parked vehicles was currently presenting itself, as a young couple pulled away from the walkway, entering the traffic a little more than two transporter lengths ahead of them. Making a quick scan of the surrounding environment, John was certain he was clear to make the run.

“I need you to hold on tight,” he spoke, coldly and calculating

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just hold on,” he sternly commanded her.

Sofia did not have time to respond to the demand. Bracing herself against the dashboard, she closed her eyes as John accelerated into his targeted area. The tearing and crushing of metal sent the crowds into a panic as the transporter burrowed into the rear end of a parked
machine.

Bouncing with a wave-like motion, their front-end slid off the vehicle in front of them, its tires spinning in the muck of the gutter. Climbing up the sidewalk, they pinned an elderly man to the entrance of the store John had mercilessly rammed them into. The rumbling of the engine suddenly died, and John and Sofia were left alone under the pitter-patter of the downfall outside. The transporter was stalled.

Slumped across the hood of the engine, the Golden citizen was motionless, the blood draining from his nose and mouth diluted in the puddles of rain. The initial shock of the incident began to subside, the engine was dead and the people were beginning to gather around them. John cranked on the keys.

“Come on,” he growled.

The curious onlookers were growing in numbers, some offering them their aid to their fallen mate, while others began banging on the hood and windows, demanding that John and Sofia exit the transporter. Ducking her head down in fear, Sofia could see that John was reaching for his pistol. Making one last attempt at reviving the dead machine, John’s mind was prepared for battle. If the transporter did not start this time, he thought to himself, the shooting would commence.

With a final turn of the key, the faint light of the distal Savior pierced through the clouds. Scant particles at the end of their long journey fell upon the stranded couple, swirling through the twisted metal, weaving through the carnage. The transporter suddenly came back to life.

Sofia could not believe her ears. Lifting her head as John threw the transporter into reverse, smashing it into the parked car to their rear, nudging it out into the oncoming traffic where it was met with the front end of another vehicle, she watched as a faintly perceivable ray of light pierced the eyes of the dead man. Under the roaring of their engine, the crowds began to rapidly disperse. Sliding off the hood, the deceased disappeared from view. As John shifted the machine back into its forward gears and began moving into the masses, the wheels skidded onto the sidewalk as the fibrous panels of the vehicle’s body tore away as it scraped along the poles and tattered remnants of his destruction. Peering out the rear window, through the smoke-filled haze and sheets of droplets, Sofia, uncertain from the blurry visibility, could make out the silhouetted image of the frail corpse lifting itself to its knees.

“Brace yourself,” John yelled.

Sofia turned back, cowering down and covering her ears. With the accelerator to the floor the vehicle was rapidly gaining speed, battering into the droves of onlookers too caught off guard to move out of the way. Blaring his horn, John made no other effort to prevent the injury of Golden’s citizenry as several bodies splattered across the windshield and against the grill, crunching underneath the tires, thrown against the walls and into the crawling traffic. Outdoor furniture and other unsecured objects splintered among the shattering glass, annihilated by the impact with their machine. Screaming with panic, Sofia hid her face from the incoming
destruction.

Sparks scattered off the undercarriage as their vehicle dropped off the end of the walkway and into a crowded intersection. Forcefully extending his leg, John’s foot jammed the brake hard, causing them to spin wildly on the wet asphalt, slamming into the intersection’s perpendicularly moving traffic. Hitting the accelerator again, the tires spun in place, creating a cloud of smoke around them. As the rubber finally dug in, the transporter lunged forward, sending them tearing into the oncoming vehicles. The metal of their transporter’s frame crinkled and warped as John bullied the other drivers out of the way in an attempt to bring them back onto the sidewalk.

The progression towards their destination was being hindered by their vehicle’s inability to fight against such an overwhelming mass. Preparing to bail out with the hopes of securing another machine, John felt the wall of traffic give, as he was finally able to bring them back onto the less resistant walkway.

According to the locator on the screen, they were less than one block away. The wake of death left behind them was exactly what John had hoped to avoid for Sofia’s sake, but the circumstances, and the cold-heartedness of his dominant nature, had prevailed. The path of annihilation was progressing with full force.