Accepting Forever

    

        The shove he felt between his shoulder blades was so abrupt and violent that he could do nothing but fall. The worst part of the entire experience was his complete ignorance of the large hole that lay before him. His hands, as a reflex, shot out in front of him but grasped only air until he hit the bottom, knocking the wind from his lungs. Normally, fresh earth has a somewhat pleasant smell, but this was different. The only word that came to his mind was death. Something else had died down here and its scent had seeped into the dirt directly beneath his face.

        He curled into the fetal position and struggled to find a breath. With a gasp, he rolled onto his back and stared directly up, only to see a small white circle far, far above him. “Well, this isn’t good,” he thought. “That is a long way up.” 

        It was an empty silence in which he sat with only the ringing of his own ears to hear. There was no movement, no sound of dripping water, and no sign of life, even the bugs were strangely absent. He had been sitting up with his arms draped across his knees and he could feel the ache building up in his back. With a groan, he stood and walked in a very small circle, his arm span almost covering the distance from one edge to the next. 

        “It’s so dry down here,” he thought. “Very weird. It seems like a well but whoever dug it saw it go dry… apparently.” The dirt walls only created plumes of dust as he swiped his hand across them. He kicked around the bottom of the well hoping to find something, something, anything that could be used as a tool. His toe caught something and he uncovered a broken wine bottle. “Sweet, this is perfect. This would be much easier to dig if it wasn’t so dry.”

        On his knees and digging with a small rock that he had nearly split his kneecap upon, he worked up a sweat and added a few drops of liquid to the tragically parched ground. Eventually exhuming the bottle, he was glad to see that it had, at some point in time, broken in half. The pointy edge of the bottle provided a great tool for scraping out a series of footholds in a stair step pattern. 

        Managing the first four toeholds, he struggled to create more as he held on with one hand and tried not to lose his foothold in the dry dirt. With one final lunge, he caught hold of the top edge of the ground outside and blinked aggressively to keep the dust and sweat out of his eyes. He managed to get both of his hands onto the lip above him and pull himself up onto one elbow. The dampness of the grass, the coolness of the air, and the smell of the forest around him reminded him just how beautiful life could be when not in isolation.

        He dragged himself from his dry and dirty prison, to roll onto his back and stare up at a now black and starry sky. He tried to think back over the last several hours and for the life of him, he could have sworn that he was alone when he entered the forest. 

        “I hope my car is still there,” he thought. The setting of the sun made his journey through the forest that much more difficult but he had made several mental notes about his duration and direction earlier in the day. 

        A breath of relief escaped his mouth as he stepped on to the gravel of the parking lot to see his car where he had left it, but now alone in an empty parking lot. He started the engine and started driving. Still confused about how he had ended up in that hole in the first place.

        Peering through one partially open eye, the sound of crunching gravel stirred him from his semi-conscious state. Staring at the edge of an even darker forest, he was irrationally moved to enter the darkness. Walking with a motivation even he didn’t understand, he once again found his former prison. He stood looking down at the hole and felt an all too familiar blow to the back to only come face to face with the smell of death in the dirt below.

        “Well, this isn’t good,” he muttered. “This doesn’t make any sense. The bottle, look for the bottle.”

In Hell

 

        Jeremy sat with his head in his hands and a feeling of sickness in the middle of his chest. For the fifty-five years of his too short life, he never gave any thought to what would happen after death. From anyone else’s perspective, he had it all together. He was stunningly handsome, ridiculously healthy, and incredibly gifted at predicting his investments. Most would have called his wife a trophy wife but he knew better. Megan was a bitter, selfish, and vain woman.

        Even on his wedding day, he knew he was making a mistake. The woman had no discernible skills other than buying overpriced clothes and makeup. The fact that he now sat here all alone meant that the car crash, if he remembered correctly, took only him. It was the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass that remained in his memory as he sat there on the hard concrete.

        He scraped at his chest to try to drive away the stabbing sickness and ache that filled every ounce of his being. He stood up and began wandering but every street, every corner, and every storefront looked exactly the same. He occasionally caught glimpses of others but was never able to catch up to or interact with them. Everything around him was a dull shade of gray with a certain grimy feel to it.

        He eventually stopped in front of a bakery and felt like eating a doughnut but oddly, he was not in the least bit hungry. He tried the door to go inside and order but the door was locked. He returned to the large window display to realize that he could not see his reflection in the glass. He tried multiple doors on the off chance that he could ascend to the top floor of one of the taller buildings to get a different perspective on the city.

        “This is very odd,” he murmured. “Where am I? I don’t remember arriving and why are  there so few people around?” He sat down on the curb, closed his eyes and listened, hoping to hear something, anything but he heard nothing. “How can a huge city like this be silent? No rumble of traffic. No airplanes overhead, and so few people. It seems like everything is closed.”

        He stood up and began walking in a straight line on what seemed to be a main street. After walking for at least an hour, it suddenly occurred to him that the street was not straight after all. He stopped and looked ahead and directly behind to realize that he could only see a few blocks before a curve in the street prevented a long distance view. “Okay, how about a side street?” he thought.

        Once every block a narrow alley existed, looking very much like the typical alley in his home town of New York. Dirty, graffitied, but oddly, contained no homeless people. The end of each one was the same, a chain link fence, at least three stories tall that blocked any chance of continuing past. “This is ridiculous,” he said out loud. With that thought in mind, he began yelling, calling for help, calling for attention. He even began shouting his name. “I am Jeremy,” he shouted over and over. But nothing happened.

        Laying down in the center of the road, he spread himself out like he was making a snow angel. With his eyes closed, he hoped for sleep but he did not feel in the least bit sleepy. He had no idea how long he had been laying there, as the sky did not change, the weather did not change, and his favorite Rolex was no longer on his wrist.

        He returned to the closest alley and began climbing the chain link fence. “If I can just reach the top, I can slide over and hopefully find something different.” With his neck craned upward as he climbed, he finally reached within a couple feet of the top, rotated his neck a few times to work out a kink, only to realize that the fence had somehow extended another full ten feet. “Well, that’s not good,” he thought. “Okay, something different then.”

        He immediately let go of the fence and pushed off with all four limbs, projecting himself into the open air behind him. Following a bright, white flash, he opened his eyes to find himself seated on the curb in the exact same place he was prior.

        “Hello, Jeremy,” he heard behind him. He stood up and looked up at the tallest man he had ever seen. 

        “Uh, hello,” he said. “How do you know my name?”

        “I am Gregory,” the man answered. “I’ve been watching you your entire life. You spent the last fifty-five years doing nothing of value, focused only on yourself, and your comfort. Now, as a consequence of all those decisions you made in life, you are now here. This is the reality you have created for yourself.”

        “In life?” he repeated. “What do you mean, in life?”

        “You have passed into eternity,” the man said. “You had hundreds of thousands of opportunities to do the right, to change your path, and to positively impact others but you always made the wrong choice. And now here you are.”

        “Well, now what?” he asked. “What am I supposed to do?”

        “What you do is, as it always has been, up to you,” Gregory said. “You created a solitary life for yourself. I only stopped by to give you an explanation. This is the only time you will see me. You may occasionally see others but you will never have a chance to interact with them. Because they, like you, chose solitude.”

        Gregory snapped his fingers and disappeared. “Uh, wow, that was weird,” he said. “Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to talk to. Man, this sucks.”

        “I guess I’ll just start looking around,” he said. And with that, he started walking and checked every door and every window, only to find them all locked. He continued to do so for what seemed like hours, as he had nothing to gauge the passing of time. “I guess time only has meaning when you have a rising and setting sun.”

        He moved to the center of the street and looked up where the tops of the buildings met the painfully drab, gray sky. Turning in a slow circle, he eventually came across something that looked like a white glow, somewhere far, far in the distance. “If that’s a sun, why isn’t it moving?” he wondered.

        He started walking toward that glow but remembered that the streets were not straight but slightly curved, so he couldn’t actually approach the light. He entered the nearest alley and rolled a dumpster next to the corner of the building. He originally thought that all of the architecture was the same on all of the buildings, but this one had a groove pattern to the exterior. He stood on the dumpster and managed to get a finger and toe hold in the grooving. 

        He eventually reached the top of the building, around ten stories, he guessed. Sitting on the edge, he could see the white glow as well as the circular shape of the city. Some of the white light had cast a few rays across the top of this building and others similar to it. He walked toward the light and reached into it with one hand, only to immediately pull back as it seemed to burn.

        “Damn, for being such a beautiful light, it sure is hot… or something,” he said. He began to take steps back as the light slowly moved toward him. “That’s not good,” he said, as he watched the distance to the edge of the building behind him diminish. “Okay then, off I go,” he said. With a short sprint, he reached the edge and leapt off, hoping that his arrival at the bottom would be the same as his fall from the chain link fence.

        With his eyes closed, he could feel the wind rushing by his face. The sudden stop at the bottom came as no surprise and he found himself, alone, again, sitting on the curb near a fire hydrant. “I guess I’ll just start walking and hope for something to happen or for someone to show up.”

Like Glass

 

        One would never suspect the issues that lurked beneath the rather frightening exterior. He was large but more than large, he was huge. With a physique similar to that of the Hulk with multiple tattoos and piercings, the man only instilled fear in those who saw him. He was literally worshiped by most of the population of San Quentin. Even after he completed his sentence, he was still spoken of in fearful and respectful terms. It was always King Tony.

Sleeping on his brother’s couch, he spent most of his time away from the apartment, looking for some means to provide for himself. For those who knew what to look for, you could see it in his eyes. Like the sound of shattering glass, his brokenness was clearly evident. From birth to fourteen, he sported a continual string of bruises and broken bones, but this is what moved him into bodybuilding and then bodyguarding. At seventeen he worked for the Mexican cartel on the US side along the US Mexico border. Known for a brutality that no one else even closely approached, he protected his boss flawlessly.

The end began with a conversation that was supposed to be discreet but was spoken in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fruit of this overhead conversation was five years in prison for aggravated assault. But the brokenness only became evident shortly after serving his time. Walking out of the prison, determined to enjoy his freedom, he stood at the nearest bus stop with a handful of other non-descript people. Within a few moments, a conversation between a father and son started but quickly descended into belittling and profanity. It was the sound of a smack that caught his attention.Turning and looking at the father and son duo, to see the boy bent half over and holding his mouth, Tony couldn’t remain silent.

Looking at the father, he cleared his throat. “That wasn’t necessary,” he said through his teeth.

“Mind your own…” the father started to say until he looked at who spoke to him. “Oh… uh… yeah,” the man muttered looking down at his shoes. 

Placing his massive left hand on the man’s shoulder, he looked down at him. “You will never hit that boy again. Do you understand me?” he said.

“Uh, yes sir, yes sir, I won’t,” the man answered. As he uttered the last word, he received a fist the size of a large ham directly into his stomach.

“I mean it,” Tony said. “Never again.”

Collapsing to a heap, the man vomited the entire contents of his stomach and then vomited blood.

“Thanks mister,” the boy said.

“You bet, kid,” he answered. “No one should ever hit their own kid. “Here’s a phone number you can reach me at if anything ever happens again. I’ll be there for you.”

Pulling himself from the ground, the man laid down on the bench and tried to shake the vomit off of his shoes. Eventually the bus arrived and the small group of people all boarded. Tony sat in the back and watched the man and his boy six rows ahead of him. Humored as the man repeatedly turned around and looked at him, Tony only stared back.

Getting off the bus at the same stop as the father and son, he trailed them from a distance until they entered a rundown apartment building. “Nice,” he thought. “Only a few blocks from my brother’s place. Hopefully I don’t ever get a phone call.”

Having missed his workout that day, Tony walked the few blocks back to his brother’s apartment. Rounding the corner at the last block, he heard shouting from an alley he had just passed. Turning around, he walked in and saw a wiry man in a sky blue suit and hat yelling into the face of a young girl who wore very little clothing. “Money, bitch, I want my money,” he shouted, raising his hand to slap her.

Hurrying forward, Tony grabbed the man’s arm just as he swung. The abrupt stop dislocated the man’s shoulder and he turned, his face ashen, in shock that anyone would dare involve themselves in his business. Seeing only chest as he looked, he looked up and saw Tony’s face. Letting out a nervous laugh, he tried to excuse the situation. “Stupid bitch, she’s trying to steal my money,” he said, followed by another nervous laugh.

“Two things, little man,” Tony said. “One, don’t talk to women like that and two, if she did the work, it’s her money. Oh, and your shoulder looks like it really hurts. Let me help you with that.” Grabbing the man’s shoulder, he pushed it further out of place and pushed him to the ground. The woman slowly backed up, holding her hands out in front of her. “Here, here, take the money,” she said. “Just don’t hurt me.”

“No, no, it’s your money,” Tony said. “This piece of garbage won’t bother you again. But you need to get out of this business. It’s not right. How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m fifteen,” she said. “My mom makes me do this to get her drug money. I don’t have any choice.”

“Hold on a second,” he said, catching a glimpse of the man trying to stand up behind him. Kicking him just before he got to his feet, the man collapsed a second time. Stomping on his hand, Tony could hear multiple bones snap under the pressure. The man rolled to his back and grabbed his hand with his other hand. “Oh, does your hand hurt?” Tony asked.

Tony then stomped a second time, this time on both hands and heard a second round of snapping bones. Grabbing the man by the front of his jacket, Tony slammed his fist directly into his face, rendering the man unconscious. “That should help him remember what I said.”

“Wow, I’ve been wanting someone to do something like that for a long time,” the girl said. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tony and I just had an idea to help you,” he said. “I know a place where you can stay and have a normal life and go to school and stuff. Will you let me help?”

“Uh, maybe,” she said. “What are you thinking? Cause I’m not sleeping with you.”

“No, no, nothing like,” he said. “You’re just a kid. There’s a family just a couple of blocks over that can help you. Come on.”

The odd couple walked down the sidewalk back toward the apartment building of the father and son duo. As they approached, Tony saw the boy come out of the building. “Hey kid,” he shouted, “can I talk to you for a second?”

The boy ran over but kept a safe distance. “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

“What apartment do you live in? I need to talk to your dad again.”

“We live in 215 but my mom lives there too. Can I ask why?”

“I’ll fill you in after I talk to him,” Tony said. “But I need you to stay here for a few minutes and talk with… her. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Brandy,” the girl said. 

“Okay, I need you to stand here and talk to Brandy. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

The two teens stood in awkward silence, occasionally glancing at one another. “So, how do you know Tony?” Brandy asked.

“I don’t really know him,” he said. “My dad hit me while we were waiting at a bus stop and Tony saw him do it. He then proceeded to beat the crap out of him and told him that if he ever hit me again, he would regret it.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” she said. “I had kind of the same thing. My pimp was yelling at me and just about hit me when Tony walked up and beat him, breaking a bunch of bones. I don’t know what to think. Is he a good guy?”

“It kind of seems like it, but he’s pretty scary looking,” he answered.

A loud whistle came from the apartment building and looking up they saw Tony motioning for them to come back in.

“Good news, Brandy,” Tony said, “Mr. and Mrs. Bergen here agreed to give you your own bedroom and keep an eye on you so you can go back to school. They understand that I’ll be checking up on you often. That means you’ll be safe.”

“But what about my stuff at home?” she asked. 

“Not a problem,” he answered. “You and I can go pick it all up. I promise you, no one will give us any trouble.”

Returning to the Bergen’s apartment an hour later, they showed Brandy her room. Tony pulled Mr. Bergen into the hallway and closed the door behind them. “I want to make myself perfectly clear here, Bergen,” Tony said. “These two kinds need stability and protection. You give the one and I’ll give the other. If anything happens to either one of them, our little interaction at the bus stop will seem like a vacation. You do not want to see how I’ll respond if you make me angry. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Bergen said. 

“To make it a little easier, I’ll be giving Brandy money once in a while,” he said. “But it is for her, not you. Again, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir, very clear,” he answered.

Leaving the building, Tony walked downtown and stood in front of a small grocery store with a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the front window. Looking back and forth from the sign to his own reflection, he was torn about what to do. “Minimum wage, really?” he thought. “That is so little money for so much time. I think using my actual skills might make more sense.”

Heading across town, he stepped into Lucky’s Bar and asked for Lucky. Waiting for a moment, a large man in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small approached him. “Lucky said he’d talk to you now. Follow me.”

Following the man into a plush office, he was greeted by a middle aged man with a large cigar. “Tony, I didn’t know you were out,” Lucky said. “What can I do for you? I hope you’re looking for work because I can certainly use you.”

“Hey Lucky, good to see you too,” he answered. “Yeah, I’m looking for work but I need to stay on the right side of the law. I can’t go back inside. Can I bounce here or something?”

“Yeah, I can fit you in,” he said. “Be here tonight at ten. We’ll make something work.”

Assassins Inc. - Part Five

 

Book Five: The Climax

Mircea had just guided Teodor’s family back into the SUV after a dinner party on the other side of town. The family sat in near silence with the sounds of Swan Lake barely audible in the background. 

“Mircea, here, listen to this,” Amelia, the teenage daughter said to him, holding out an earbud. “My favorite artist just released a new song and it’s really good. I think you’ll like it.”

With a smile, Mircea slid the earbud into his ear and listened to a surprisingly gifted singer, a young man, he thought. The song finished and he returned the earbud. “That was nice,” he said. “The message somewhat surprises me. Usually these types of songs are about romance but this one, this was different.”

“Yeah, I know, right,” Amelia said. “This guy is from South Korea and typically his songs are romantic but he seems to be changing lately. This one is all about loving everyone and stopping war. It’s got over a million streams already.”

Mircea reached over and tipped the screen of her phone towards himself and read the name. “Yimyum, hmm, interesting name,” he said. “His message is almost exactly the same as your father and I have been discussing. I have to say that Yimyum is right.”

“Well, that’s pretty cool,” she said. “I think the world is changing. I think we’re moving away from so much hatred and war and violence.”

“That’s really good, Amelia,” he said. “I have to agree with you. I think things will get better over time. It’s kind of like we’re coming out of a valley and we’re seeing more and more.”

He climbed out of the SUV as it pulled up in front of their home and scanned the area. He opened the front door and then the doors to the vehicle and directed the family inside. “Have a good evening everyone,” he said. “I’ll be in the main security office if anyone needs anything.”

Symeon and Melvin sat in front of possibly the largest TV he had ever seen, watching a rugby match between Scotland and Wales. He had to hold his tongue and not comment on what he considered to be absolutely silliness and a waste of time, as grown men chased one another around a field in competition over a ball. 

“Have you given any more thought to my idea about wireless DC?” Symeon asked Melvin. “We both know that this would solve many of the problems the entire world is facing today.”

“You know, Symeon,” Melvin said. “I’ve been the CEO of Terminator Electronics for over a dozen years and honestly, I feel somewhat embarrassed for not seeing this as the best path. So, yes, I think you’re right. I was going to wait until after the game to tell you but I have a meeting set up with the UN to discuss how I plan to implement this.”

“The UN?” Symeon answered. “That’s fabulous. That will address most of the Western world but what about everyone else?”

“I’m thinking that if we can get a working model in place on a smaller scale,” he answered, “that interest should explode as people see the endless possibilities. I think the biggest struggle is going to be against the traditional power models already in place. Oil, coal, nuclear, and the green efforts aren’t going to like losing their revenue. With wireless DC in place, no one makes money, except for the companies that build the batteries.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about the others,” he said. “With your influence in so many fields. Once you make the science well known and the solution obvious, there will be no turning back. I know enough people to make any pushback seem like the panicked response of people only hungry for money and control. Tell me more about the UN.”

“Of all nations,” he started, “I am meeting with the representative from Albania. He seemed genuinely excited about the idea of providing help like this to so many people. His perspective seems so different from all the others there. Honestly, the way this guy talks sounds a lot like you.”

“Me? Really? That’s interesting,” he said. “If it’s possible, I’d like to come along for the meeting.”

        “Yeah, for sure,” Melvin answered. “I can make that happen.”

         Alexei stood on the balcony on the 45th floor, overlooking the city of Seoul. The air was cold and reminded him of his forest back in northern Russia. The sound of the glass door behind him opening up prompted him to turn around.

        “Alexei, there you are,” Yimyum said. “I wanted to tell you about my new single.”

        “Yes, please do,” he said. “I assume it’s doing well like I predicted.”

        “It is,” he answered. “Even with the change in lyrics, it’s already reached over a million streams, just on one platform. With that kind of success, I need more wisdom from you. You seem to be thinking what people need, even if they don’t know it. This really looks like a turning point in my career.”

        “Of course, let’s get some dinner, somewhere quiet,” he said. “We can talk over a meal. That makes for a good time. Oh, and don’t let your manager talk you out of the direction you are going. I’m certain we both understand that, like you said, you’ve turned a corner and are heading for great success. I’m glad that I have been able to help you.”

        “Oh, one other thing,” Yimyum said, “We’ve started planning for my next tour. It will probably be another six months out yet. I need to get a few more singles out and finalize the next album. I’m feeling really good about this.”

        Jose returned to “The Inbetween” with his tablet in hand. “Jahwn, Joshua, do you have a minute?” he asked.

        “Yes, absolutely,” they answered. “From what we’ve been seeing and hearing, it sounds like the plan is going really well.”

        “It is,” he answered, skimming through his tablet. “This is going to take a long time and a lot of people are not very happy with Melvin, Teodor, and Yimyum. Symeon, Alexei, and Mircea have chosen well and are making very good progress. Even without knowing about one another’s specific work, the three paths are merging and impacting one another in a great way.”

        “You are doing well, Jose,” Jahwn said. “This will take centuries to complete so make sure these men have progeny or successors in place who will continue their work. This will be an enormous fight and their opposition won’t simply stop opposing them. As their cultures embrace them, their cultures will begin to change. Continue the good fight. I promise we will win this.”