An Act of Finality-Sylaire-Part 4

[black_hat]

Claire stared at the shard of ceramic pottery that lay on the console.

 

She had stepped on it accidentally. Now, her foot was perfectly fine.

 

“Still sulking?”

They had been driving for an hour without a word between them. She supposed she had finally starved a response out of him.

 

“You never said what I would have to do if I lost the bet,” she mused.

 

“You never asked. Did you know I’m meeting up with an old acquaintance?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Sooner rather than later,” he said.

 

She leaned in between the console, in order to see him better. It was curious how many ways he could appear. At the moment, he was casual and kind…enough. Sorta. Well, no, he wasn’t. Claire couldn’t pin it down. Just by looking at him, one wouldn’t have instantly believed he’d be responsible for the disaster in the passenger seat. If she didn’t know better, she might have found him attractive.

 

 “Aren’t you worried about the police? I mean, we’ve been reported. I’m pretty sure that guy got a good look at me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about the big, bad pigs. I’m heading to the last place they’d look for us.”

 

“What about…you know…”

 

“I…know?”

 

“Whoever that was,” she ventured, pointing at the blood stains. “Where is she now?”

 

“In the trunk. I couldn’t leave her out in the cold.” Her hand went limp and hit the console, hard. “Oh, I’m just fucking with you, Claire. Lighten up.”

 

She bit her lip and stared out at the surroundings. “Does your friend live in this area? Is that where we’re going?”

 

He chuckled.  “Not that soon. You deserve my undivided attention.”

 

Claire sat back abruptly and crossed her legs.

 

“It has been awhile since I’ve seen this guy. You could say we’re from opposite sides of the fence. Or glass as it was. I’m trying to think up some good ice-breakers. What would you suggest?”

 

“You could ask him about some really strong stain remover. And an air-fresher,” she said, and thought something grazed her leg. She curled them up underneath her, and wondered if she should try to sleep.

 

“Trust me, that is impossible to get out. It’s not like I haven’t tried before.”

 

Well, this is an avenue she certainly didn’t want to travel. Reverse gears.

 

“The thing is, I know that you’re wrong about people. I know something that will definitely prove you wrong.”

 

“Do tell.”

 

“I can’t remember it. I feel it.”

 

“Then it doesn’t count. I need some empirical form of proof, here,” he said, smiling. “Do you hate them for leaving you out in the cold?”

 

“No,” she answered. “I just don’t get it. I would have opened the door.”

 

“Aren’t you special,” he muttered dryly. “Only the special ones go against nature. Do you know what the funny part is? That rebellion, in itself, is part of nature. People like us can see the correlation. We’ve caught on. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t caught. You know why you don’t hate them?”

 

“Well…” she shifted. She knew why she didn’t hate them, yet clearly he wanted to inform her himself.

 

“Survival of the fittest. For all they care, you were just a bad dream. For all they know, there are several blonde girls in the world to make up for your absence. You have to make them hurt to care.”

 

“So you think I’m…making up the fact that I would try to help?”

 

“Oh, you would try to help. I know firsthand that you’re impulsive. The type that doesn’t know when to play dead. You’d open the door to be thrown aside, killed as a footnote. If footnotes could be killed. I find your type is resilient. I don’t mind that. Makes for a good time.”

 

Claire decided to remain quiet since it did her no good to remind him of her potential death.

 

“I’ll give you one thing. It’s easy to hate what we see in ourselves. So you are different from them.”

 

She tried to smother a feeling of warm satisfaction.

 

“The reason why the norm is so large is that they survive to procreate. Speaking of which, this man I’m going to meet up with again has done something quite intriguing. He doesn’t care for his own life. Strange, isn’t it?”

 

“Um, doesn’t that go against your theory of survival of the fittest?” Claire asked, curious.

 

“Have you ever heard of the myth of Koschei the Deathless? Oh, well, you wouldn’t remember if you had. Sorry, I keep forgetting.” He smiled, and she caught herself smiling back at him.

 

“Koschei, out of fear of death—“

 

“Hence the name?”

 

He glared, and she looked down. “… hid his soul in all these objects. My old acquaintance has hidden his heart in things around him.”

 

She heard a ticking, and saw that he had flipped the turn signal.

 

“In the modern version, this man lives for everything but himself. His work. Mostly his work. Then there are his children. He lives through them, controls them, but the catch twenty seven is that they make all his actions justified, good even, in the eyes of everyone else. Just because of the little children. One in particular is his Achilles’ heel that he paints with a bulls-eye that fucking glows in the dark, just to spite me. And if I take the bait, then he gets to crucify himself over it. Yes, Claire, he thinks he’s just so special.”

 

His knuckles had turned white on the wheel. She wouldn’t have been surprised if this guy believed the whole purpose of children was to spite him and him alone. It should have been disgusting, grotesque. And it was all that, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of pity. Thinking the whole procreated world was built against you had to make every breath sheer agony. She would have reached out and patted his arm under different circumstances.

 

 “But in the end, the cross really is just a stump of wood.”

 

“Or maybe he really loves them without all…that,” she pointed out.

 

“Of course he does. I’m sure a dogcatcher can come home and love his puppy, too.” 

 

He coasted into a parking lot, and her heart stopped.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” The police station wasn’t brightly lit but Claire was sure a spot light was about to shine down from a helicopter at any minute.

 

“It is the last place they’d look.”

 

“Oh ple..okay, I’ll give you that. Seriously, why are we here?”

 

“I wanted to see if your wanted poster is up by now.”

 

“It’s not against the law to throw potted plants at perverts!”

 

He patted her head, condecendingly, and then she remembered that he had been heavily implying that she was guilty of hit and run with a trail of bodies leading to her garage.

 

“I’m going with you.

 

“To look at your own wanted poster in a police station? Just when I thought I was lucky and you actually had something rattling around in your head.”

 

“Last place they’d look,” she reminded him, smiling innocently. “I’d like to see what picture they used. Hope it’s a good one.”

 

“It hasn’t sunk in yet, has it? The police are looking for you.  I  heard your name replayed over the radio after every commerical break while you were out cold.”

 

“Then what did I do, exactly? I mean, telling me should just take a second.”

 

“It would be better to remember on your own. Mentally speaking…” he said, carefully. “You are very, very special.” Before she could move, he captured her hand. She hated that, for her hands still fluttered in time with her heartbeat. They seemed to delight him, her trembling hands, because he didn’t still them by holding them tighter.“I could break your hand all day and night, and you’d just fix yourself. Physically, you have no imperfections. A flawless design, with no odd variables. It’s fantastic. What do you think one could do with your ability?”

 

Claire knew better than to believe in fairytales. With what she had seen from him, with the radio and the hearing, he was the special one. But that ability was a horror show waiting to happen.

 

“I could live through anything but can’t help others live.”

 

He paused, looking at her strangely, as if she had been speaking in a foreign tongue. She could picture it clearly. The last one alive, for onlygodknowshowlong, being trapped in one’s own body, a virtual prisoner and a captive audience. All things considered, she was lucky that he was nuts.

 

“Like the fucking Enginizer Bunny from hell,” she muttered, feeling awkward and small, hearing that hollow metal clanging sound in the back of her mind again. He looked down, biting his lip, and it took her a moment to realize he was hiding his amusement.

 

“That’s one way to put it. Are you sure I should continue? You have such a clean slate that I’d hate to ruin it for you.”

 

“Go ahead, I’m a big girl.” And you’re a big liar. “ I can take it.”

 

“You could hold someone down in a fire and not be burned. You could drive a car into a wall with a person of your choice inside of it. You’d walk away. They wouldn’t.”

 

“N…” Yes. She remembered putting her foot down on the accelarator, stomping it down, and a pale face screaming besides her, strappd in for the ride. The face didn’t matter; the feeling did. 

*Credits* 

That rebellion, in itself, is part of nature. 

-You cannot go against nature Because when you do Go against nature It's part of nature too ...
(No New Tale to Tell by Love and Rockets)