Fifteen Years Ago; First Flames

POV Change: “Darius Byrd; Father of III”

 

“Come on, hurry up, or you’ll make us late!” The men rush past me, hurrying for the meeting room. They hold briefcases, and they’re placing their hands on their hats in order to stop them from falling off. I cannot help but chuckle at this, watching these strangers rush as if their lives depended on it. My footsteps make quiet noises on the cobblestone floor; it’s already so far into the future, the fact that this place is still made of stone utterly astounds me. The reverberation of each noise amuses me, and as I slowly tilt my head, I cannot help but wonder what manner of a person would build such a thing. In fact, one would have to wonder what I was doing in such a place. Running my fingers along the cold stone wall, I cast a steely gaze at the next group rushing past. I cannot understand why they’re in such a hurry; there is no need to do so. In fact, at my current rate, I will make it there with enough time to spare. Of course, what do I know?

 

My next motion is a strange one. As I place a hand onto the wall once more, my other hand simply places the briefcase onto the ground, and I use my own position in order to rest. I turn around, place my back against the cool stone, lean my head into the air and quietly recompense. Today, this meeting, all of this, I could have avoided it. My daughter’s birthday was recent, and I cannot recall the last time I had taken a break from work. Instead, I had chosen to come to work today, and been hurried off in a vehicle to this place... wherever it was. It seemed to be a church of some kind, a place of quiet solitude. If I had not chosen to shun the religion that my parents had forced into my mind, I would know this place; but my own choices gave way to sanity, and a greater understanding of the world. I have already been told: mine is one of the Ten, though they do not know why or how. However, that is not the purpose of this meeting today�"or so I have been told.

 

Finally, having gathered my thoughts, I pull away from the wall, letting a soft and warm breath out into this ever-so-cool air. I am surprised, of course, at the architecture of this place; as I had been raised among the concrete jungle of the Capital City. In fact, that was where most people in this area had been raised, so to see a place like this was a treat of sorts, especially for those of us with different understandings of the world. Chuckling, I finally step out into the main hall of the church and I swear that my mouth literally drops to the ground. It’s no wonder that they once called this Capital City’s “Great Wonder”, though that is all I can recall about it. I have seen no photos, so this image is wonderfully new to me.

 

My eyes are first drawn to the marble pillars. Their smooth, silken lengths travel up into nothingness, captured by the ceiling that seems to hang low in those areas. As my eyes follow the pillars of white stone upwards, I watch the brass�"possibly bronze�"ends as they curve and curl, making the shapes of the great waves of the ocean. Ah, the ocean. How I would love to take my family there someday. Ah, my wonderful daughter, Eva. She is only just three, and yet almost perfectly eloquent for her age, if not more. As my mind wanders, my eyes do as well, moving through the grand arches on either side of the main hall, and eventually resting upon the altar. The cross that sits upon it reminds me of a bad childhood, and I avert my gaze, long enough to see what I would call the true grandness of this hall of God.

 

A large stained glass window, brief flashes of the early-evening light flickering through and leaving colored shadows upon the floor. In the centre, I can recognize His son, Jesus Christ. His arms are outstretched, hands nailed to wood. His feet are nailed to another piece, one that sits perpendicular to the first. His head hangs, and one can see women mourning at his feet. Even if I had no religious knowledge drilled into my brain, I would have known what that was. The dull colors of the stained glass depicted the crucified Jesus Christ. That, among all other bits and pieces of the church itself, is the one thing that will catch my eye, now and forever. Such a dull piece of stained glass, yet I would also call it the most transfixing. I walk forwards, through the aisle of the church, passing pews with men and women seated upon it. As I gaze upon this grand visage of the Son of God, I finally understand why it is that I was called here for this meeting and nowhere else.

 

This place is sacred, and I can see that clearly with my own eyes. Holding out a hand, I feel that I can almost touch the face of the Lord, grasping those mourning women. Finally, I close my eyes of soft blue, turning away from that glass motif and making calm steps towards a nearby pew. I sit, feeling colder than I have ever done. Without thinking, I place my hand onto the briefcase and close my eyes. This meeting that has been called; it was at the request of the Vice President, was it not? Yes, I can reiterate that in the back of my mind. However, that is all that I know. I cannot understand why this meeting has been called, though I feel that it would be of some importance. I had heard stories of the Vice President being integrated into a new company deal; something called the ‘Terminus Science Corporation’, or TSC. If such is the case, then he may be coming to discuss that with us, or something along those lines. It is 7 in the morning; I am most certainly still tired, longing for the warmth of my bed, placing my body back alongside that of my lovely wife.

 

With that thought lingering in the very back of my mind, I look up at the ornate ceiling and shake my head slowly, but with some purpose. There is still a small mist fogging up my mentality; I need to remove that as quickly as I can. I turn away from the altar from a brief second, before hearing another strange noise. No, that noise is not strange to me; it is simply a loud echo of something that I already know. Footsteps. As they approach the back of my seat, I slowly turn my head towards the source of the noise, and blink a few times in wonder. A dark-haired man is walking down the aisle towards the altar, not looking to either side. I can almost feel something of a chill coming from his body as he walks, although it could simply be the cool air of the church. A haughty air is held about this man in his priest’s robes, and my eyes linger on the dark mass of hair upon his head. As strangely unkempt as I find it, it also appears to be natural and well-done. Strange, how that simple fact seems to disturb me completely. It is almost as if I cannot stand to be near him and I feel that very fact resonate throughout my mind and soul. Every part of me is sickened by his very existence; it takes all that I have to hide the look of disgust that I want to show to this priest.

 

Even his face is something that sickens me to my very heart. Lifeless brown eyes are present on that pale and sickly flesh; I can only stare into deep pools and watch my own life fall away from me. Everything is telling me that he is something that I cannot be near, however I know that I must remain calm and collected, or hell will break loose. A soft and yet booming laugh escapes his lips, and he smiles calmly while opening his arms out wide. He does not speak, he simply laughs. Men and women look to the sides, questioning the purpose of this man and his actions; not criticising, but simply questioning. I am transfixed onto his eyes, his lips, everything about him is strange and yet so amazing to me. It takes me a few seconds to look away from this laughing man, and when I do, I hear further footsteps; though these ones are muffled by his laughter. My eyes travel down the aisle, and they land upon the second figure to approach the altar.

 

Unlike the discomforting presence that the priest held, this man that I watched was kindly in face, and soft-looking in heart. One would not think of him to hold such power in a small country like this; however that was the way of the world. Flowing silvery-white hair fell down his face, softly licking the edges of his chin like a small stream of hair. A kind smile was present on his face, and large glasses at upon his nose. The tall, slim and strangely-curved figure of this man was covered by a white coat, and he had a scholarly look in his eyes. Unlike the priest before him, I couldn’t stand to look away from this man, instead simply staring at him as he walked. His every motion would be enough for the shallowest women to fall for him, and his apparent intelligence would be enough for the more intelligent ones to do so as well. Yes, that was our Vice President of this fair country, a strange man and yet also one of great intelligence. He was a man that I both respected, and yet couldn’t help but wonder about. This man, had he really sold himself to this new group; TSC?

 

As he continued to approach the altar, he gave a brief look at the disagreeable man with brown hair. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable about the look they were giving each other, as if they knew something was going to happen. A fluttering feeling came through my stomach, but I threw that away for the purposes of continuation. “It’s okay, Darius. There is nothing to be afraid of.” For some reason, I could not help but whisper those words to myself. Nothing to be afraid of? Why was that statement so strange to me? Everything was starting to come apart in the back of my mind, as if some drug exposed to the air was bearing down upon the people within this building. Looking around, I notice people with disoriented faces; expressions much the same as mine. Confused, worried, uncomfortable. It is a strange feeling to have, especially in a meeting like this. I remind myself that this meeting is an announcement from the man in white standing in front of me and settle the growing worry from within myself�"he is about to speak.

 

---

Intermission: Through the eyes of the Priest

 

A name? Such a strange notion to think upon in this situation. The man generally refers to his mind as ‘Lacyn’, though he recalls that it is not really his name. A place? Yes, this church. A strange building of moss-and-stone that falls within a jungle of concrete structures. He notes that it has been here long before the people built this place they know as “Capital” and that a large part of their religion settles around it. A pitiful people they are, allowing a deity to rule their very lives. He had given up his faith in such a Lord many years ago, though he would never truly admit such a thing to the people. As he walks down the aisle towards the altar, he cannot help but catch the gaze of a short man with wireframe glasses. The man seems discomforted by his presence, though it does not bother him what this man thinks. He had never cared for discovering the thoughts of others, instead focussing on his own thoughts.

 

This man, ‘Lacyn’, found himself approaching this altar now, standing in front of it to study it for a second. A strange artifice to this world, a ‘portal’ of sorts towards the people’s ‘God’. They always chose to worship through these artifices, something that he could not understand. Why did a table with candles on it bring one’s mind to the Lord? Why could people that were spiritually inclined not do what this table could? It escaped him, to be frank. Turning back to the people, he quietly mulled over his own thoughts, staring at the fools in their pews through lifeless brown pools. They did not know their own fate. These people always believed that their “God” would save them, correct? He felt himself attempting to shout, but held it back in for long enough. They were simply fools that drove themselves to an early grave, their cycles perpetuated by an invisible madman. Without any direct warning, he felt himself bringing up laughter from his throat. His arms spread out to the sides, his head threw itself backwards and ‘Lacyn’ simply laughed.

 

A booming laugh that disintegrated into the world in front of him. A laugh that was neither loud and raucous nor quiet and careful. A laugh that created confusion in the very hearts and minds of the population of this church. He would laugh at their foolishness; laugh at their mindlessness. Running towards their doom, they were; these ‘children’ of an invisible hand. For that reason, he could not help but laugh at them. Though, through his booming and silence-pounding laughter, he could hear a new sound approaching. They were the footsteps of a man that he could not refuse the offers of. A man that was, by all rights, the perfect leader. Quiet, demure, yet also secretly ambitious. ‘Lacyn’ respected the power of this man more than he respected the power of these peoples’ ‘God’. He would make sure to prove this point today. A quiet clicking of his tongue ensued, ‘Lacyn’ stepping forwards and placing a hand onto this man’s shoulder. Whispered words spread out between them, ending with a statement from the man of white-coat.

 

“Plans are in place. Time to execute.” A soft smile crossed over ‘Lacyn’s lips. There was most certainly no more that needed to be said. Removing the heavy hand, he stepped past this man and looked over the crowd once more. Finally raising his voice to a level of which they’d all be able to hear, he began to address them with simple terms; terms of which he would no longer need to speak after this day. Smiling coolly, ‘Lacyn’ began.

 

“Let us pray.”

 

---

 

“Let us pray.” My eyes watch over him for a brief second, before closing with the lowering of my head onto clasped hands. As the priest begins to speak on the Lord and his ruminations of glory, my eyes open once more. I have little love for this God and his will, though I am still officially one who loves him. In this day and age, faith is all these people have. Watching him speak, I cannot help but wonder what sort of perverted genetics went together to make him�"there is not a single shred of goodness in those eyes. He closes his own eyes and lowers his head, presumably to pray on his own. The Vice President has his own head lowered as well; I am the only person in this building who is not praying at this very moment. BA-THUMP. A sudden shock causes my heart to skip a pair of beats.

 

As I slowly turn around, I start to hear the footsteps running towards the front doors of the church, slowly gaining in volume. I don’t know why, but my first instinct is to silently stand from my pew and slide through the seating areas, past the prayer-bound fools and into the side-lines, where I can watch in secrecy. My footsteps clatter on the stone floor, causing a couple of nearby church-goers to slowly raise their heads, look around in confusion for a moment and then return to their prayers. I have to question a few things; such as why this prayer is taking so long. Twenty verses so far; one would have to wonder what was going on in this.

 

“Give us today our daily bread. Deliver us from evil. Take us to the life we deserve. We repent for our sins, O Lord. Allow us the greatest escape from these sins.”

 

My confusion only continues to grow. They are such strange verses; ones that I have never experienced before. With what they’re saying, it’s almost as if they’re praying just before death. Shaking such a morbid thought from my head, I start to slowly creep along the wall of the interior, sliding around pillars; making sure that I don’t knock anything down. My breath is sucked right into my lungs, a method to keep me from shaking so hard. The mysterious prayers continue on, just as I reach the back right-hand corner of the church. Almost immediately after my hand touches that wall, the prayer verse takes on a sinister turn.

 

“Forgive us Lord, for we have sinned. In this silent pledge, we offer you our lives. Takes our lives for this sin, take our loves for this death. We are your humble servants and we sentence ourselves to death. Amen.”

 

Amen. The word of closing within a prayer; a word that, once spoken, signifies the ending of a prayer moment. Known usually to be translated into such a statement as ‘truly’, I cannot help but feel a sudden pulse of worry. Without a second’s warning, a loud shattering noise forces me to look up. Up yields no results, so I immediately look at the one thing that I am dreading to see once again. Time slows down with that look, the pieces of the stained glass falling through the dimly-lit sky; colors flickering throughout the realm of this church. People finally open their eyes, screaming ensues and I realize what is happening. No... no... NO! Without recognizing the movement, my body is off in a single direction, running from my hiding place and towards the altar. It’s his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault! A plan to destroy the Vice President and the echelon of Capital City at the same time!’

 

Reaching down to my hip, I produce the only weapon I have�"a switchblade that is always on me. I understand it now. I’m going to die here, in this house of God. I know that, so I can perform this act of atrocity. I will kill that priest; the one I know is responsible for this. Another shattering noise breaks out and I look into the sky in horror. What was just a shattering of the stained glass window itself has taken a far more sinister and frightful turn. The screams of the people grow louder as twenty, if not thirty men stream in through the smashed window. I dive beneath one of the pews without thinking as the first line of them passes by. Through the screaming, another noise comes out and sickens me to the core. Laughter; a recognizable laughter, at that. The man that I have to kill, that man with the priest’s robes. He is standing in amongst this carnage and laughing. The first few rounds are fired, I hear people fall to the ground, screaming. Men, women, nobody is spared. Automatic weaponry rips through the now-unsettled air as I pull myself up and out of my hiding place, sprinting towards the man whom is staring directly at me now. The blade is drawn without a second thought and I raise it up into the air with a shout of rage.

 

“You b*****d!” Planting a dress shoe-wearing foot onto the ground, I push myself faster towards him, gaining a burst of speed through adrenaline. A soldier crosses my path; I barge into him and plant the knife straight into his throat�"he falls without saying a word. His blood sprays onto my face, though I do not care to wipe it off. I will have enough time for that once this man is dead! The will to kill him courses throughout my body, sending shocks of awe with every footstep. Dead. Dead. Dead. He must die. He must be killed. It’s almost as if nothing matters, not anymore. Dead. Dead. Dead. Kill. The overwhelming desire to kill this man drowns out everything left in my head�"a human instinct to protect those who they care for and relate to. My mind becomes like his; I no longer care for the purpose of family, nor the idea of mercy. Within this room, anyone who is a target is a target�"they will die. I sprint towards him, not losing a breath, not breaking a sweat. Ten metres separates us now. Less than ten seconds and I will be at his feet, preparing to stab the blade into his throat. I take one step and suddenly fall to the side, slabs of stone flying through the air.

 

An explosion had sounded out from the side of the church, presumably placed by the soldiers as an escape route. I turn away for but a second, my thoughts of murder replaced by a desire to escape. That second, however, is enough for the man in the priest’s clothing. A burning feeling enters my back�"the feeling of steel penetrating flesh, muscle and bone. My eyes are forced open wide by a muscle spasm and for a second, I see everything in front of me. Death and destruction; a mound of bodies. Innocent men and women that were killed to prove a point, though I do not know of that goal. The feelings that I had before return and I turn towards the priest with wild eyes. Despite the pain, I take three steps forwards, brandishing the knife and taking measured swipes for his body. Despite having no formal training, I was recognized for being the best handler of a scalpel in my Biology classes. I can wield a knife, damnit. Each swipe is preceded by a thought of killing him before my blood runs totally free onto the church floor. Kill. I swipe. Maim. I attack. Destroy. I slash. Bifurcate. I cut. Eva. ...Eva? Why, at this point in time, does a thought of my daughter come into my head, especially amongst such thoughts as death and destruction? The confusion of the situation forces a hesitation from me; a hesitation that is enough for the priest before me.

 

Without warning, he produces a pistol. Without warning, the trigger is pulled and I fall forwards towards the ground. As my vision slowly begins to fade, I start to see images�"hallucinations�"of the girl that I called my daughter. Eva Byrd. Images of that small and dark-haired beauty running through fields, long tails streaming behind her and blue eyes full of life. Those eyes are the last thing I see, just before my body hits the cold, stone floor.

 

Did you know? I have a daughter; Eva. She’s just turned three and she’s a bundle of life. You really should meet her some time...