Gabriel's Sacrifice (The Scrapman Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

She leaned forward and squeezed his hands, a gesture that instantly reminded him of the awkward assurances he’d received at Dad’s funeral.

He looked around, at all the familiar tables, booths and chairs.

A handful of memories awaited him within Dingy Pete’s, each of them pleasant yet painful in their own right. It used to be warm, a place for family and friends, filled always with laughter and the sounds of sizzling bacon. He’d salivate if he thought too long on it. Dad used to take him there after soccer games, patting him on the back as Ethan would chase down mouthfuls of chocolate chip pancakes with a tall, silver-cupped strawberry milkshake–a breakfast of champions.

How the thought of it could still make him smile.

Only the warmth of the place diminished just after Dad’s passing, the milkshakes becoming bitter as Ethan soon outgrew his taste for childish things. It then became a place, however subconscious, that he avoided.

“My dear boy,” Claire said. “Where to begin?”

Ethan considered her quite an attractive older woman. And her eyes, just as he remembered, they had a way of seeing through him. Whatever mask he might choose to wear in her presence would be of no use. It was as if he was naked, transparent, stripped to the very core of his being beneath her gray-eyed gaze.

“A man came to me recently with a similar story,” she began. “Now I’ve never come across anyone like this before. He is something … completely new.”

“What do you mean?” His face scrunched. “What kind of person?”

“I call him the Hollow,” she answered. “He looks and acts like he used to, but it’s as if his insides have been scooped out.” She saw fit to elaborate further, probably on account of Ethan’s raised eyebrow. “I don’t mean anything is physically missing from the man. If you were to dissect him, I’m sure you’d find all the necessary organs intact.”

“So what do you mean, then?”

“Every single person I meet has got a little color surrounding them, some indication of energy inside.” She made the shape of an orb with her hands, mimicking the flow of its energy by the wiggle of her fingers. “But then it was like something came to extract that force from him, like some kid sucking the center out of a jelly doughnut.” She clasped her hands together, the orb no more.

“Weird.” He didn’t know how else to respond.

“They’re very good, whoever’s doing it … but for some reason they slipped up with you, leaving us a handy little clue in the process.” She pointed to his palm.

“So you’re saying I’m … a Hollow now?”

“That’s what I prefer to call it, Ethan, yes.”

“What else would you call it?”

“I might call it … soulless.” She sighed. “But that’s far less politically correct.”

“Soulless?”

“As a Sunday corpse.” She nodded. “But for whatever reason, something made damn certain you’d still be able to walk this earth without it.”

He sat back in his chair, knowing he didn’t believe her. Still, based on his experience, it did make some sort of sense. There was that man waiting for him when he awoke on the sidewalk. He could be the soul-sucker Claire was referring to, not to mention his other-worldly meeting with Dad.

“Wait a minute.” Claire squinted at him. “You saw something, didn’t you?” she asked, somehow able to sense his current thought.

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now I’m not saying I believe I’m soulless, but … I did see my dad just before I woke up–different than a dream though.”

She nodded. “Did he say anything to you?”

Ethan removed his eyes from hers, fighting back the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand firmly. “What did he say, Ethan?”

“He said … there’s my boy,” he answered, embarrassed that something so trivial as three words could move him almost to tears.

“You’re right to think it wasn’t a dream, right not to explain it away because that would be an injustice to the gift you’ve been given, Ethan, a glimpse into the afterlife.”

“Fine.” He wiped his face. “But that’s the only part of this conversation I choose to believe.”

“Take from it what you like.” She nodded. “But know your destiny has hardly changed since last we met. I still maintain that you, Ethan, are going to play a vital role in bringing forth a new beginning.”

He stood, thanking her as he offered his hand in a show of goodwill. But she batted it away, embracing him tightly.

“Try not to dwell on it, Ethan,” she insisted. “I promise the answers are coming.”

He nodded, not exactly sure how he was supposed to do that, but he would take her advice–focus on the day at hand, at surviving it, and then the next. That alone was surely enough to occupy his mind until each piece of the puzzle was accounted for and placed neatly before him.

“What’s important now is life,” she added.

“I know. That’s why I came, to find out why I’m still alive.”

“But the
why
doesn’t matter. And it’s not your life I’m referring to.”

“Then whose? Amanda’s?”

“Neither of you directly, but of the one yet to be born.”

“A baby?” His face became warm. “You’re talking about us having a baby?”

“It’s no time to be coy, Ethan.” She smiled. “The state of the world depends on it, in fact.”

“Look outside.” He pointed toward the aftermath surrounding them. “Does that look like a world you’d like to bring a baby into?”

“Someone needs to,” she looked out in that direction, beholding the scars of a war past, “if we are to rise above our own destruction.”

“I don’t think so, Claire.” He shook his head. “It’s hard enough just keeping myself fed. I’m not ready to be a dad on top of it.”

“When is anyone ever really ready?”

“And what about Amanda?” he went on. “Even if I was all for it, you’d still have to convince her.”

“Please.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I’ve already given her the means to make it possible–the safety and resources. And as much as she might enjoy her privacy, Amanda was never meant to stay at that place alone indefinitely.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the dark strands away from his eyes. As opposed as Ethan was to bringing a child into the madness, he couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement he felt at the thought of staying with Amanda. If Claire could achieve that for him, then it would make the journey to Dingy Pete’s entirely worth it.

“She’s pretty stubborn,” he warned.

“Hard-headed and tough as nails, that one,” she agreed. “But just give me a few minutes with her. Besides … ” Claire grinned. “She owes me big time.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “But be sure to mention that whole I’m gonna change the future thing, okay?”

“Oh, Ethan.” She smirked, placing her hands on her hips. “After this conversation, it should be obvious now what that meant all those months ago.”

It then struck him, euphoric in the way it seemed so predetermined, like he and Amanda were star-crossed in chaos, their futures decided in an assortment of Tarot cards.

Claire reached up to pat his cheek, then gently closed his mouth. “I’m afraid astonishment does not suit you, Dear.”

He found Amanda still waiting by the entrance of the diner, her eyes hopeful.

“Find your answers?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Just more questions.”

“She doesn’t know what happened to you?”

“Not really, just some theory about someone sucking the souls out of jelly doughnuts.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand in the air. “What matters now is that I’m alive and that I keep it that way.” He pulled the hood over his head, readying himself for the weather, then motioned toward the other side of the diner. “She’s got something she needs to talk to you about.”

Amanda rose from her seat. “What is it?”

“I ... I dunno,” he fibbed. “You’ll have to go see.”

She passed him, disappearing behind the brown curtain as Ethan wished he could be a fly on the wall for the next couple minutes.

He tried to imagine her reaction. Would she be disgusted by just the notion of such a thing?

Not even if he were the last man on Earth!

He’d heard it before–never thought it would ring so true, however. But the end of the world certainly helped to level the playing field. Back before the world went to shit, Amanda would’ve been the kind of girl he’d never have the nerve to strike up a conversation with. And even if said conversation did take place, there was the horrific responsibility to keep it moving without the inevitable slumps of awkward silence he was always prone to.

But they weren’t in that world anymore. And next to the ones claiming the inner-city streets as their own, Ethan surely looked like Prince Charming.

Still his skin felt fuzzy, like he was next up for a job interview–his strengths and weaknesses about to be weighed against one another. That made for an eerie sensation, knowing also that his genes were up on the docket as well, even though he really didn’t want a child ... at least not at the moment.

The curtain swung open again as Amanda exited, Ethan trying to gauge her facial expression. But due to the fact that she couldn’t seem to look at him, it was all but impossible.

The absence of her eyes caused a sinking in his chest.

Claire came out behind her, giving them both a farewell embrace before seeing them out the door and back into the gloom.

Claire called him hollow, soulless as a cadaver. But what he felt inside was nothing of the sort. He rummaged through himself, checking off emotions like on some kind of internal scavenger hunt.

He found compassion, found sorrow, found envy, found hope and fear. He found hatred, found empathy … which was next to compassion. But each came with a memory attached to it. Compassion belonged to Mom, how she’d taught him to care for all things as equal. Sorrow belonged to Dad, how he’d had to leave them far too soon. Envy belonged to his best friend growing up, how it seemed he always got everything he ever wanted. And hatred … hatred belonged to the group of men that put a hole in his hand, while fear belonged to the world all around him.

But hope … his hope belonged to Amanda. And when surrounded by fear, hope remained the only thing worth clinging to.

But she’d hardly spoken to him during their walk back to her apartment; and for fear of being presumptuous, Ethan waited for her to notice he’d not followed her up the fire escapes. Stepping onto the second level, she looked down to discover him still on the sidewalk.

“You comin’, or what?” she asked.

The rain slid cold over his face as he looked up at her. “You sure?”

“Unless you’d rather stay down there.”

He nodded, accepting the invitation, the clanks of his feet echoing as he rushed to meet her.

“I think it’s best if you stay with me for awhile, Ethan,” she said as they reached her flight together. “Claire seems to think that ... it’ll be too dangerous for you out on the streets right now.”

He nodded again. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience, though.”

Amanda pulled open the window and stepped inside. “It’s too late for that, Ethan,” she said, leaving it open for him to follow.

“Y
ou were right, James.”

He looked up to find Victoria, the curves of her figure against the frame of his door.

“I'm not too proud to admit it.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear you say that,” he said.

“I always knew Rick was a piece of shit,” she shook her head, “but I never would've guessed he could be so ... diabolical.”

“No doubt he was smarter than he led us all to believe,” the hunter agreed. “Best to rid the world of men like that.”

She nodded. “And thank you for changing your mind about Hazel.” She took a step inside, closing the door behind her. “But I ... I get the feeling Jackson beat the tar out of John.” She rubbed her left hand over her right. “His knuckles are messed up pretty bad.”

“Well, Jackson's got a stable head, but John probably said something to upset him.”

“How long you think you'll keep him in the pit?”

“Not my call, Victoria. I left him to Jackson. That was the deal.”

She tucked a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear, her blue eyes fixed on him.

“He's a prisoner. It's the price of Hazel's safety.”

“I understand.”

And he was glad she did. As much as the hunter enjoyed her challenges every now and again, this really wasn't the time. With patience already worn tremendously thin on the subject, he would have grown angry with any objection she might have had on John's behalf.

Possibly sensing this, it seemed she'd decided to let it go. “I'm just happy Hazel's safe,” Victoria said.

“Good.”

She turned and exited, leaving him alone again, the frost of her shoulder nearly thawed to its core.

And it happened just as he'd predicted.

With the bogeyman dead, she could finally relax; and with Victoria relaxed, the hunter's world would instantly become a better place.

So he soon found himself making a new prediction. One, if indeed it came to pass, that he'd consider just reward for all his efforts. For surely, in light of her many errors, it was in Victoria's best interest not to let him sleep alone on this night.

S
everal days had passed since the bogeyman's supposed demise; and Mohammad considered it a just reprieve, allowing the hunter and his men time to rejoice in their victories. For as soon as they felt most secure in their footing, that was when Mohammad would return to pull the world out from under them ... and that would be the end of it–his vengeance delivered, his focus then undivided from whatever else Gabriel required of him.

Until then he would feast on the thought, on the images in his mind's eye. God knows he'd been given enough time to plan it thoroughly, tweaking the design here and there to allow for a more effective reveal.

So let them enjoy their final days on this Earth, to drink and fornicate to their heart's content. And if it be in the name of their fallen enemy, then so be it; for the blade of the bogeyman would be coming to relieve them their duties soon enough.