Fifty
Abraham Darker stood among the ruins of Silver
Ridge. He had seen a movie once about what an atom bomb would do to the
world. It was like that now. The buildings were blown down and burned,
the trees bare and smoldering, and the sky the color of dark steel. The
Trevor hill still glowed a hellish orange, the only illumination the world
would ever again see.
King was still alive, pacing in circles in the center
of the ruined motel court, surveying with grim amusement the destruction
he had caused to the world. Abe was too numbed to fear the man. Some of
his anger seeped through, enough of it to enable him to lift the pistol
still clenched in his hand.
King’s self-satisfied smile turned to an expression
of astonishment. “No! Wait!”
Abe squeezed the trigger at point blank range. The
report of the pistol was deafening in the stillness. The bullet punched a
hole through King’s forehead just slightly off center.
As the echo of the shot died, King staggered back,
gaping at him in amazement, but still somehow alive. Abe lowered the aim
of the pistol without concern, blowing out the crotch to the man’s dress
pants as an afterthought, as an idle gesture of contempt.
King folded at the waist as expected, but the instant
he refused to die, Abe sensed something amiss with the validity of his
immediate conscious experience. Still, King’s presence felt real enough,
and it was satisfying to deal with it in a forthright, candid manner.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” King
roared. “I can put the world at your feet!”
It surprised him that he felt genuine apathy. “I had
the world at my feet, you sick bastard.”
Abe tossed the pistol to the ground and turned away.
King was no longer relevant to the ruin that had become of his life. In
the instant he dismissed the man from his thoughts, King’s image
evaporated. Even the intangible presence of the man faded away into
nothingness.
Abe walked among the ruins of Silver Ridge during the
course of the day, letting the past slough away from his shoulders. It
was a burden he should never have let accumulate. Noah and Lazarus and
Evie could have fended for themselves. Had he allowed Evie to court
Billy Trevor, the two would have left together, and Noah would have been
able to keep Lazarus from self-destructing. If he had married Ella May, King’s
drugs would have never been a temptation. Poverty had no dignity, but he
had never been impoverished with Ella May in his arms.
The river valley that had been a forest of green now
smoldered like an insult clawed into the face of the Earth. Abe knew that
what he was seeing was not real, but he feared that he would never again
see a patch of sunlit green regardless. What else could this be but the
hell he had earned for the suffering he had inflicted upon all the people
he had ever loved? He had let greed get the best of him. He had refused
to let go of those he cherished the most. He had succumbed far too easily
to King’s temptations. There was the faintest glimmer of sunlight along
one part of the horizon, but he turned away from it and started walking
toward the shadows where he belonged.
“Abraham?”
He looked around. Ella May stepped from the shadows
onto the road behind him. “That is the way of despair. Hope lies behind
you.”
He shook his head. “Ella May is dead,” he said.
“You can’t fool me, whoever you are.”
“Ella May lives in your heart,” the apparition said.
“It was Ella May who tried to teach Abraham Darker the ways of gentleness
and compassion. Without her, King will rule your soul. You have killed
him, but he is not dead.”
“Who are you?” he demanded, his curiosity engaged
despite himself.
“A referee of sorts.” She smiled. “Your resolve was
challenged, Abraham. It proved quite resolute. None of that is important
now. I can see you have no understanding of your circumstance.”
Abe shrugged.
“And little concern for your fate.”
“Can you bring Ella May back to life?”
“The arrow of time is inexorable. All living things
die.”
Abe started to turn away.
“But I can send you back to a time before
these events began.
You can help make the changes that would heal the wound in your world.”
“It’s not possible,” Abraham decided. Nothing of
what he was experiencing was possible.
“You can’t stay here in your limbo, Abraham Darker,
neither you nor any of your friends. It is my function to send you back,
those of you who have survived your trial of resolve.”
“Where would I go?” he asked numbly.
“Probabilities are infinite, Abraham. You choose,
and then you choose again. It is the function of life to choose.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“It means that there is no one particular place in
space and time to which I must place you. I can send you back to any
point of your life that you choose.”
His eyes flew up to lock onto her familiar, lazy
gaze. Even her easy going smile was typical of the Ella May he had
known.
“I can send you back to a time before Ella May’s
death,” she said gently.
And live the horror all over again?
“Would you make the same mistakes knowing what you
know at this point in your life?”
Never. Not in a thousand years.
The entity with Ella May’s face held her hand out to
him. He took it, if only to steady himself.
“Walk with me toward the light, Abraham.”
Still a bit unsteady on his feet, but with gathering
hope, he let her turn him back toward the glimmer of light on the horizon,
and they began walking.
