The Tower (26 page)

To make matters worse, what Ralph had said to me on my first day in the shooting range clung to me like a leech, breaking my concentration whenever I held a pistol or even squared off with Terry in the dojo. Deep down, I had always known that Ralph was right about what had happened in the research center. I knew that I was, at least in part, responsible for Dr. Kellogg’s death, and for the deaths of everyone else down there. But amidst so many other things that had been bothering me since my arrival in New Haven, I had conveniently managed to keep my guilty feelings about the Psionic Research Center locked safely away in the back of my mind.

Now, thanks to Ralph’s unkind reminder, the more I tried to push my conscience aside, the more it burned me. I had helped the Guardians gather the information that had led to the complete destruction of the research facility. If it hadn’t been for my capture – I still cringed whenever I thought about the stupidity of my actions that led to it – and for my subsequent escape, none of the doctors or the military personnel there would have died. Dr. Kellogg would be alive today. And Dr. Otis... and even Dr. Denman. As much as I hated Dr. Denman, I was sure I wouldn’t have wished him the end that he had met. Including the guards, there must have been nearly a hundred people at the facility. I had only known them as my captors, but there was no denying that some of them, perhaps even most of them, were not really evil at heart. I remembered the soldier who had brought Alia’s new control bands to our room. I had hated him, as I hated all the guards there. But he was somebody’s son, and perhaps somebody’s father. Now he was dead, and I didn’t even know his name. That bothered me, but I knew better than to tell someone like Terry, who would only scoff at my weakness.

Out of habit, I was still meditating with Cindy fairly regularly, and when, in the third week of September, Cindy asked me what was keeping my concentration at bay this time, I told her.

“You did what you had to do,” Cindy said softly. “And remember, you didn’t actually kill anyone down there.”

“But they all died because of me,” I said, staring down at my hands.

“Don’t think like that, Adrian. I was a part of it too, and you know perfectly well how I feel about killing. But what happened down there wasn’t our fault. No one knew it would end like that.”

“But was it right?”

“It certainly wasn’t wrong.”

I frowned at her. “That’s not what I asked, Cindy.”

“What we did brought you and Alia back to me, Adrian. For that, I am happy.” Cindy gave me a tender smile. “In a way, I’m glad you feel so bad about those people, because it means I was right about you all along. But try not to dwell on it too much. You are not a killer, Adrian. You never will be. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, especially Ralph Henderson.”

Try not to dwell on it?! Thanks a lot, Cindy
, I thought angrily as I lay on my bed that night.

I knew that Cindy had meant well, but far from comforting me, her words only frustrated me even more. I remembered how Cindy had begged me not to kill Ralph when I had the chance to put an arrow into his neck. And yet it was Ralph who had killed Cindy’s husband. That was how much Cindy valued life, and how much she valued my innocence. But just because Cindy couldn’t see me as a killer didn’t mean that I wasn’t one. I loved Cindy, but in this matter, I really needed an objective opinion. After spending a few more days feeling confused and uncomfortable, I decided that it was time to make a long-overdue visit to a good friend.

In the early afternoon of the following Sunday, while Cindy was at another one of her meetings, I cycled out to the church where Mark worked. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to leave the penthouse without my bodyguard, but Terry had also been out since morning. Besides, I wanted to talk to Mark alone. For that reason, I had forbidden Alia from accompanying me, leaving her alone in the penthouse.

Stepping into the spacious church building, I looked around for Mark, but couldn’t find him.

One of the nuns, noticing my lost expression, approached me. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Father Parnell,” I told her.

The nun smiled. “He is in the confessional. I believe it is open now.”

I had never been inside a confession room before, and was surprised to find that it was as small as a closet, with an uncomfortably hard wooden chair against one wall. The confessional was built into the church wall, and once I closed the booth door, I could be assured of my privacy. Only through the smallest slit in the wall in front of me could I tell that there was a priest on the other side.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I said, trying hard to keep a straight face. “It has been, uh, forever, since my last–”

“Adrian?!” Mark’s voice sounded much louder than I had expected.

“Hey, Mark,” I said. “One of the sisters outside told me you were in this box.”

“What are you doing here?” Mark asked in a hushed voice.

“Confession?” I suggested meekly.

“But you’re an agnostic, Adrian.”

“I know. I just needed to talk to a friend.”

“Is this something you can’t speak to Cindy about?”

“I tried, but I don’t think she understands as well as you.”

Mark said kindly, “Oh, well, anything I can do to help. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“This is cozy enough, thanks,” I said.

“So what’s bothering you?”

Where to even begin? I decided to start with the most recent, which was what Ralph had said to me in the shooting range. Mark, in his usual calm manner, listened without interruption until I was completely talked out. Then he asked quietly, “And you think what happened down there makes you a killer?”

“I don’t know, Mark,” I replied. “But I don’t think self-preservation automatically justifies killing.”

“I’m impressed, Adrian. You might have made a good priest.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” I said carefully. “No disrespect, but I’ve never really read the Bible, and I’m not so sure I believe in God, either.”

“You don’t have to,” said Mark, and though I couldn’t see him through the slit in the wall, I could tell that he was smiling. “All people who search their souls are looking for God in their own way, Adrian, even when they claim, as you do, that they don’t believe in him. The most important part of true faith isn’t about reading the Bible or attending church, or even about believing in God, for that matter. It’s about finding what is right, and making it a part of who you are.”

“I don’t know what is right anymore.”

“Right is a very difficult thing to know sometimes,” agreed Mark. “As I’m sure you understand perfectly well by now, Adrian, we live in a very imperfect world. It is enough to make anyone question their faith from time to time. In this world, we do what we can and what we must, but no one is destined to live or die.”

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so I asked, “What do you think of what we did, Mark?”

Mark paused for a moment before answering slowly, “Personally, I believe that what we did at the research center was, however horrible the outcome, nevertheless entirely justifiable. Don’t get me wrong, Adrian. I do not think any more lightly of the lives lost during that raid than you do. Every man there had his own life and story that was abruptly ended because of what we did. They had families that will grieve for their losses, and most of them were, as they say, just doing their jobs.”

“Then how can it possibly be justifiable?” I asked, frustrated at what, to my mind, was a clear contradiction.

“Because, Adrian,” Mark said patiently, “it was either us or them. It
just so happened
that we succeeded. Had things gone differently, they could have just as easily killed us.”

Us or them... That sounded too much like Terry’s argument when she first took me down to the shooting range. I had been hoping for something better from a priest. “It can’t be that simple, Mark.”

“I trust God to guide my life, Adrian. I believe that God intended us to succeed that night, and if he had not, then we would have failed. Since you apparently don’t believe in God, for now you will just have to trust yourself to know when it is right, or at least acceptable, to kill.”

“But how will I know when it’s right?” I asked anxiously. “I’m a destroyer. Even if I don’t count the people at the research center, someday I’ll be expected to fight for real. And kill. How will I know?”

Mark answered quietly, “As long as you wonder, Adrian, you will know. I promise you.”

I frowned. “That’s not very helpful.”

“Cindy told me that you refused to part with your identification tattoo. If it was for the reason that I think it was, then I’m certain you will know.”

I touched the P-47 mark on my upper left arm. “Thanks, Mark,” I mumbled.

I couldn’t say that I was satisfied with Mark’s answer. His view of what we had done at the PRC wasn’t so different from Cindy’s. Still, Mark hadn’t tried to paint me in innocence or tell me not to dwell on it, and I was grateful for the adult treatment. I decided that, as long as I was unable to find a better answer on my own, I would have to accept Mark’s comparatively unbiased conclusion. After all, he was a priest.

After a pause, Mark said, “There’s something else troubling you as well, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

“Care to share it?”

“Um... can you keep a secret?”

Mark laughed quietly. “In this tiny little box, I am bound by the Seal of the Confessional, Adrian. Even if this isn’t exactly a normal confession, I would nevertheless honor the confidentiality of our discussion. So in short, yes, I can keep a secret.”

I remained silent for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Mark waited patiently until I said, “It’s a bit complicated. You see, I woke up injured the morning after the big party, and, well, that was when the Angel spy escaped.”

“Ah, yes,” said Mark. “Cindy told me how you knew of the secret switch to the escape tunnel. Are you concerned that you might have had a hand in the Angel’s escape?”

“I was really drunk that night, Mark. I don’t remember anything.”

I wondered if I was about to receive a reprimand about underage drinking, but Mark only asked, “Well, why would you help an Angel, even if you were drunk?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” I replied.

“How were you injured?”

“That’s the problem,” I said, frustrated. “I can’t remember.”

“No, I mean, where were you injured? What part of your body?”

“Oh, well, I had a bruise on my arm and a bump on my head.”

“Weren’t you with Terry that night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask her how you received those injuries?”

I had, actually, several weeks ago. “She said I fell down some stairs.”

“And do you have any reason to doubt her?”

“Not really,” I answered. “Just the secret button in the farthest jail cell.”

“Knowing you, Adrian, you might have just instinctively known. Or perhaps Terry had once told you and you simply don’t remember it.”

“Possibly...” I said slowly.

I heard Mark sigh. “You being constantly knocked around that dojo isn’t doing your spirit a lot of good, and the mind can be a fickle thing. Still, I’m no expert in psionics. If you are really worried about this, I would suggest you speak to Mr. Baker. He would know more about the incident, and I doubt you will get into any trouble just for being honest with him.”

“Maybe I will,” I said. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Always happy to help,” he said. “Maybe it’s time we got out of these cramped quarters.”

I exited the confessional, and Mark came out from the other side.

The nun who had shown me to the booth came up to us and said smilingly, “That was a long confession for a young boy.”

“Oh, he’s been very bad,” joked Mark.

After introducing me to a few other members of the church, Mark walked me out, asking, “How is everything else with you these days?”

“Things are a bit easier now that Terry is in school,” I said. “And I’ve learned a bit from her too. These days, I can almost survive five seconds against her. Alia’s mouth-speaking is actually starting to get better too.”

Grinning widely, Mark asked, “So what’s it like being the only man of the house?”