Getting up, she says: “Come on, we can still catch him.” She looks round at Michael. It's then that she realizes something is terribly wrong. “Michael?”
Michael wipes his nose again. It's bleeding profusely now. He looks at Amber, confused, then collapses.
Amber hurries to Michael's side. She can't believe what she's seeing. After all they've been through ...
it's just a single gunshot wound
. She carefully lifts his head onto her lap and glances over at Wendy. The girl was killed by a single bullet to the head. But she wasn't the only one killed:
she was pregnant
.
A wave of nausea hits Amber.
What the hell just happened here?
Michael coughs up blood.
“It's okay, I got you.” Amber lifts an arm and prepares to cut herself for Michael to drink, but he reaches up and takes hold of her hand, preventing her from making the incision. “What are you doing?
I have to
.” He squeezes her hand tighter. “Michael- I don't understand.”
But she does understand. Michael clearly wasn't shot with a regular bullet. It was obviously something specially created to kill their kind. He's hemorrhaging at a remarkable rate, and losing blood faster than he could ever possibly hope to ingest. A drop of blood runs from the corner of his left eye. She wipes it away. It's then that
she notices blood oozing out of his right ear. She swallows the growing lump in her throat and strokes his head.
Michael looks deep into Amber's eyes and desperately tries to convey something.
“What is it?” she says, and leans closer.
He tries to speak, but the only thing that makes it past his lips is blood.
“Don't try to talk." She clears the blood from around his mouth with her thumb. Her hand is trembling. She can only imagine how badly he must be bleeding internally.
Devinniel's words - '
You fall in love with Levagnion
' – return to the forefront of Amber's mind. She stares intently at Michael's face, and it's then that she sees it: something significantly more profound than the initial stages of a forming relationship.
He is in love with her.
Amber opens her mouth to tell Michael she feels the same way, then stops herself. She isn't in love with him, and doesn't want the last thing he hears to be a lie. She squeezes his hand; knows it won't be long now. Her eyes fill with tears.
Michael swallows and attempts to verbally communicate one last thing to Amber. Despite her mild protestations, he is successful, and a solitary word passes his lips: “Verestanias.”
Amber shakes her head. “I- what is Verestanias?”
Michael reaches up with his other hand and brushes the back of Amber's cheek. He regards her one last time, and then his hand falls away. A sigh emanates from deep within him and the muscles around his eyes and mouth relax, smoothing out his features. He is glowing and, finally, at rest.
Amber kisses Michael's forehead and begins to weep. She doesn't understand why her feelings towards him are growing with the passing of each moment; why she's starting to feel like she's lost a lover she's never had.
A wave of energy surrounds her, causing her skin to prickle and the hairs on her arms to stand erect.
Verestanias
.
She hears the word - the same word Michael had spoken – whispered in her ear. She looks round and sees no one - believes she must be going mad - when she's struck by some sort of vision (and only when the vision is over, will she feel the crushing burden of what it is she has lost in the early hours of this new day).
She sees Michael. He's a passenger in the car she's driving. The day is bright, but not to the extent they're forced to remain indoors. The road ahead is long and winding. They're somewhere in Europe - Switzerland, she believes. Michael is wearing a bright t-shirt with a logo on the front. His hair is a bit messy, but she likes it that way. She smiles at him. He returns the gesture. She feels a warmth in the pit of her stomach
.
Now they're standing on a wide balcony, below the late evening sky, overlooking a ripe and fertile landscape. There's a slight chill in the air. He's dressed in a gray hooded sweat top and frayed jeans. She puts her arms around him and kisses his lips. He opens his mouth for her. Tongues fleetingly brush against one another. She can feel the pound of his heart against her breast
.
“
I love you,
”
she whispers in his ear
.
They hold hands and watch sun set below the horizon. The lush valley below is a magnificent burnt orange tint. Only moments
remain before it is no more. She feels him squeeze her hand one last time. Like a final curtain drop, the sun dips below the horizon, bringing an end to a vision of what should have been
.
One last impression
...
“
I love you too
,”
he says softly
.
*
Reset year 0000; Region 1, District 2
She stands on the edge of a high building, overlooking a pristine and perfectly organized world. The sky is overcast and the air is clean. All around her, office blocks built of glass and steel stretch into the heavens. Below, electric powered traffic, monitored and controlled by on-board computers, come and go in perfect synchronicity.
Things have changed.
In this New World, all forms of automated travel is measured, efficient and virtually silent. There is no such thing as road rage. There is no such thing as rage. People move with purpose. No one has need to stop until they have reached their destination. This destination is normally a State allocated place of employment or education, or even one of the many dispensaries of nourishment, where earned calorie tokens can be redeemed. The streets are litter free and devoid of graffiti, and, thanks to the
Work for Well-being
program, there is no sickness or suffering. There is nothing to fear. All forms of violent and self-gratifying entertainment have been abolished. Barbaric acts such as rape, murder and property theft are nothing more than gray memories of darker times. All division – religious, territorial, etc. - has been replaced by unity. One World, united under One Mind, and governed by The State. The State is fundamental, tangible and stitches all division. It provides everything that could ever be deemed necessary for a sustained healthy and happy life.
The State transcends all.
An airborne drone swoops into view and hovers before her tight black, leather-clad figure. They've found her again. They always do. Even now, she can hear the sound of them hurrying up the stairs towards her - State police donned from head to toe in tactical armor. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want: Michael's parting gift to her, Verestanias, somehow transmitted through ingesting his blood.
She cocks an ear at the sound of the heavy-booted men flooding onto the rooftop. They fan out behind her and prime their assault weaponry.
A voice crackles from the powerful speaker built into the drone. It issues a stark warning: “Surrender yourself immediately or face the consequences.”
Amber turns to face the consequences. Her bright yellow eyes dart between each of the eleven men spread out before her. Her left hand hovers over the semi-automatic hand cannon strapped to her left thigh. She runs the tip of her tongue around the edge of her glossy black lips then jerks her right arm at the elbow. A formidable looking blade comes sliding out from the sleeve of her jacket. She grips the handle with a black gloved hand and cracks a twisted smile to reveal a devilish looking fang. Her elliptical pupils narrow.
“Okay, boys ...
let's dance
.”
1705; Kovolosia
It was an odd feeling, waiting and waiting, when you knew, deep in your heart, that the person you were waiting for wasn't going to arrive. It was getting late for anyone to be venturing outside, and growing chillier by the minute. He had paced back and forth so much that he worried the soles of his boots might wear thin. On the upside, the knot in his stomach was beginning to loosen (a side effect of not having been with a woman in some time - at least, not in a romantic way).
Much had changed in his life over these last few years. He had adapted according to his new condition, and had even started work here in town as a blacksmith. He enjoyed working outdoors, but sometimes the sun shone a little too brightly and he didn't get as much done as he would like. Fortunately, he had no competition in the immediate vicinity, so custom didn't go elsewhere on those slower days. For the time being, he had rented a room in the local inn. It was a little confined, but it was warm, and his landlords seemed like a nice older couple. Regarding his nocturnal activity, there was a wealth of animals to choose from in the nearby forest, and no one seemed to be too closely scrutinizing fauna drained of blood.
With all of that sorted, the inevitable question was: could he hold down a normal (or even relatively normal) relationship with a woman? He thought he could, and was at last willing to give it a try. He had worked hard to hold a regular meal in his belly again (and even appreciate the taste), and, although it wasn't enough to sustain him, the mere appearance of digesting it covered over a multitude of cracks.
Sadly, for whatever reason, the woman he had been coerced into meeting didn't appear to be arriving. Such a shame, as the village looked so picturesque under the cloak of night. He had envisaged sitting with her on the hilltop near the edge of town, gazing at the moon and stars. It would have been nice to hold her hand, feel her warmth and the softness of her skin - and perhaps deliver a kiss to her cheek? Possibly he was being a little eager and expecting too much, but he had heard such good things about her: a chaste woman with dazzling blue eyes and a beautiful smile living with her parents and brother just outside of town. And enthusiastic for male company.
Or perhaps not so enthusiastic.
Levagnion looked at the speckled white flowers in his hand. They were starting to wilt already. With a sigh, he dropped them into the stone well, turned up the collar of his coat and headed back towards the inn. Perhaps he would have another opportunity to meet this woman, Amara.
Or perhaps they were fated never to meet.
Only time would tell.