Apocalypse Rising (3 page)

“To be honest I often do.” Neville stood just inside the doorway of his office, the great doors closing as silently as they had opened. Neville walked up to the glass and put his hands upon it, relishing the cold against his skin. “I spend too much time here and not enough amongst every day people.” With a sigh he pulled his hands from the window and turned to face his friend. “That is why your council is so important to me, dear Robert. You see them as they are, not the abstract they appear as to me.”

A heavy silence grew as they stared at each other, both hesitant to speak first. They had been waiting for this time for so long that they had begun to think that for once, a mistake was made and that all of their efforts had been a waste.

Robert was the first to break the tension as he slowly regained the excitement that had started his visit with Neville. “You felt him didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” Neville turned and paced about the office. “It was weak, but there was no mistaking it as him.”

“So it has begun. Good. I have tired of waiting.” Robert’s fists clenched unconsciously as he anticipated the violence that would soon take place.

“I wish that it had not. I wish the prophet had spoken wrongly. I would like this to all have been a horrible mistake.”

“You knew that this time would come, Neville.” Robert walked to his friend and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “The prophet is never wrong.”

“Many prophets have been wrong throughout time.”

“Yes, but never a prophet touched by the Light.”

Neville sighed and lowered his head. “Of course you are right, brother, but I wish it were not so.”

“We all do, but we all have a role to play in this and our role has begun.” Robert's voice held none of the anticipation he felt. The time for action was upon them, but there would be death and suffering for the very people he was there to save and he did not revel in it.

“Yes we do, but I do not relish mine the way you do.” The corner of Neville’s mouth curled up in a smile that held no mirth. “You always have been a creature of action, no matter what that action may be.”

“Don’t say it like that, Neville. You know that I wish there was another way, but since there isn’t I might as well give it my all and be done with it quickly.” Robert hated inaction. Doing something without benefit was more palatable than doing nothing at all in his mind. Stillness brought complacency and weakness, something that he would never tolerate. “I wish all of this involved some nameless mortal and not someone we once called brother, but it does and our lot is not to question the design.”

“I know, but it does little to soothe my mind.” Neville stopped before the window and looked out once more. He silently wondered how many lives would be shattered in the coming days or if he would even care once it happened. He had a fondness for the people of this world and there were individuals he would truly miss, but in the end they were destined for death. “I suppose this means that you will be leaving soon?” Neville looked back over his shoulder, his eyes flicked from his brother to the door of his office before returning to Robert.

“Yes. Some of the foundation laid so long ago must be checked and I trust no one but the two of us to do it and since it’s unlikely that you’ll be leaving your office any time soon…” Robert left the implication hanging in the air. Few people knew that Neville never left the building. The last time he had been beneath the open sky was the morning he had walked into the skyscraper that was his home. He had left the rest of the world behind only hours after the prophecy had been spoken. His freedom was a small price to pay for global salvation.

“Then go. I know it will be some time before I see you again brother, but I trust you to be safe until then.” The silence fell between them as the uncertainty settled in.

“It would do you well to spend some time amongst them,” Robert said as he looked at his shorter friend. “Spending too much time with abstracts makes you forget about all of the beauty in the world.”

“And the horror.”

“Yes, the horror as well.” Robert walked away from his friend and poured himself a glass of water from the condensation-covered pitcher placed upon a nearby side table. “The horror is necessary though.”

“Necessary?” Neville walked to his desk and sat down in the large chair that screamed out his sense of self-importance.

“Without the horror the beauty would seem much less magnificent.”

“Ahhh, the old, ‘the light is so much brighter because of the darkness,’ philosophy.” Neville leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers before him. “You always were a fan of that argument.”

“I suppose I have, but it holds true. Humanity has always shined brightest when the darkness was deepest.” Robert walked back to the doors and traced his fingers over the delicately carved scenes upon them before reaching for the handle.

Neville paused for a moment, turning to look once more out his grand windows. “Then let us hope that they shine brighter than ever before in the coming days.”

It is nearly dawn when Carl drops us off just outside of downtown. During the trip we talked almost non-stop, and while I could have used some sleep, talking with Carl had been pleasant in its own right. I had been living low for so long that I had forgotten how nice it was to talk with normal people. Surrounding myself with what the news and politicians labeled the underbelly of society had been my choice, but they were not often the greatest conversationalists. The price of drugs and whores often dominated conversation at the best of times, death, starvation and crime at the worst.

Carl told me about his kids (Amy was six and Billy was ten), his wife (Glenda, his high school sweetheart), his job (he was looking at going independent), all of the things that made his life complete. I am sure that some of the influence I had exerted helped him get started, but by the time he dropped us off I knew that his good-natured banter was part of who he was and was flowing naturally. I thank him once again as Lilly and I get out and shut the door. He smiles and waves as he drives off.

While I had listened to our cabbie, Lilly had slipped into a fitful sleep. It was too soon to be a withdrawal, so I am sure it was the fear of the night racing through her subconscious as she slept. For all the horrors that the streets hold for most people, Lilly had kept clear of some of the darkest parts. Fleeing from Albert had touched a nerve. I do not know if she has figured it out yet or not, but there is no way we can go back to the old neighborhood.

It is a death sentence the moment anyone recognizes us and that means no more drugs for Lilly. If she did not realize it before, she will figure it out when she cannot get her morning fix. Lilly is a good soul, she has just suffered a bad life so far and I was doing my best to help get her on the right path. An established addiction and no regular place to sleep at night make’s recovery difficult, but I was not here because things would be easy. She is worth saving and I am not going to fail her.

I stroll over to the bus stop that Carl left us at and note the first bus is not due for another hour. I do not feel comfortable sitting on the wide-open bench as the sun starts coming up. The sunlight would feel wonderful and the morning is not so cold as to make the wait uncomfortable. Our run down bus stop from last night had provided a place of refuge, as all such places do in the dark and pain filled parts of the world, but this stop is in a nicer part of town and is exposed to all who drove by.

I cannot risk one of Albert’s associates driving down this particular road and spotting us, intentionally or otherwise, so we head off the main road looking for a little shelter so we can plan our next move. It is the bitterest irony that the light that gives us hope and chases away the monsters of our mind is the same light that makes it so easy for the mundane monsters of the world to find us. Most villains prefer the night and the cloak of anonymity it provides, but it is rare that they completely shun the light, especially when they are hunting.

"Come on, Lilly; let’s get off the street before the sun starts coming up." She grumbles, but follows along once I grab her hand and pull her into the neighborhood that rests against the street where the bus stop stands. The third house down the street has a sale sign in the yard and the grass looks unkempt, so I peek in a window. The place is empty. I look around and see no one looking so we sneak into the backyard. I employ a small amount of will upon the back door's lock, popping it open and letting us in.

The house is completely bare. The musty stink of stagnant air fills it, making me want to sneeze. The thin light of early dawn peeks around the edges of the thick curtains. We move to the front of home so that I can look out of the windows without being seen. Traffic is light, but steady. Car after unremarkable car drifts past the bus stop, but none of them slow down. I know Albert is coming for us and I doubt we are lucky enough for his goons to not notice the taxi company or the cab number. They will be hot on our trail soon enough.

Lilly leans against the wall, sweat breaks out on her forehead, and her skin is starting to lose its color. I forgot how much of a junky she truly is. I have been amongst addicts for so long that I have grown blind to it and I am still surprised when it comes forward. In the time I have known Lilly I have only ever seen her go without a fix once, and that was because she was late paying her dealer. She was good at getting money and keeping a steady stream of heroin coming her way.

When I gave up my old life so long ago I had never imagined that I would end up where I was. Grand visions of feeding the poor and making a difference had filled my head. I was tired of being detached, feeling like I made little real difference in the lives of the people I was assigned to help. So I gave up the power and the celestial prestige of my position in order to get my hands dirty amongst the people I wanted to help. The gritty reality of the material world was far different than it seemed when viewed from above.

A tortured moan from Lilly draws my attention back to the present, pushing away the thoughts of a past that was and a present that will never be. I have made little difference in the lives of the junkies, whores and criminals around me, but I have learned very much about what it means to be human. It is little consolation at this moment and I would give much to have all of my power back in my possession. I need to save this girl more than I needed to save myself and that is going to be difficult.

We still have some time left before the bus is due so I decide to try a little meditation. When I first fell I had used prayer, though I doubted I was being heard. As time went on my prayers felt hollow and I gained little from them. Meditation seemed a reasonable alternative, though it did no more than the prayers when it came to maintaining the little power I had left. I knew it would happen, but living a life of simple mortality had proven to be more difficult than I had expected. Go figure.

I feel myself slipping into a place of calm inner refuge, letting my worries slide away. I know the respite is temporary, but I set it all aside, if only for a few minutes. I try something new, searching for the spark within me. I have sensed it before, but I feared reaching for it. What if I touched it? Would my powers return? Would I be called back into the fold? Would I be punished?

Being afraid sucks. Mortal life has filled me with more than my share of fear, but now is not the time to be afraid.

I push my way past the fear and doubt within, searching out my place of peace. Most people who spend half their lives meditating can achieve that mythical Zen-like state almost immediately, but I struggle with it every time I try. I can never get all of the darkness I have seen out my mind, much less my heart. I reach a compromise within myself at a certain point, but it never comes quickly. Today I force my way past all of the hurtful clutter of my soul, reaching for the spark that has eluded me for so long.

Time slows as I travel deeper and deeper into my subconscious. I feel the spark, pulsing with a regular beat of its own. I push myself further, finding my way around walls and through doors that I had put in place so many years ago. Recognition flits through my mind as I delve and it worries me that I have come to this point despite having sworn to forgo that which I had been created for. My friends thought me mad when I chose to leave the presence of the Light. Right now I find it hard to disagree.

I come to a point where I can go no further. There is a wall before me, the bricks fashioned from the heartbreak and loss of my past. My life before this one, a thousand-thousand years of misery suffered in silence, marked me though I remember little. It took an eye-blink of humanity to transform my pain into something tangible, something I could no longer ignore. I search my heart and know that I will not ignore it even if I could. I run my fingers over the wall and the agony etched through the mortar read like brail beneath my fingers, an autobiography I did not wish to write.

It feels like hours pass as I search my wall, but I know from experience that it has only been a handful of moments. I read the tale and seek the cracks knowing they are there. All walls have cracks and a patient man can use those cracks to break the wall. I did not know how long it would take to break through my wall, but I had to start or the wall would never fall and I would never regain my spark. My search becomes frantic. I am impatient and I am full of fear. I need that spark.