Let's chat, old man. It's been awhile.
Step. Step.
Nothing to say? No, of course not. Never anything to say, unless you're talking through a burning bush. What
gives with that, anyways? Were you fresh out of angels for Moses to wrestle, or were they so damn embarassed after Jacob they refused to ever do it again? Because, really, that's pretty damn embarassing. I mean, one of those feathery fucks is going to lead an army in rebellion against you and they got outwrestled by us?
I guess you can just shoot Jacob, though. Wrestlin' skills don't stop them bullets.
Step. Step.
Raidon broke off, slumped against a tree, and ran a hand across his forehead. Everything felt hot and foggy, and beads of sweat dripped out of his long-since-greasy dark hair and slid like snakes across his face. It was nightime, it shouldn't be this fucking hot.
So fucking hot.
He forced himself off the tree and kept walking. Julian had gone. He'd sent Soryu away. Simon was dead. He'd delivered his letter.
Time to himself at last. Time to talk. And God, did he need to talk.
"I'm sorry." Raidon stopped immediately and stared at his feet. "I...you're omniscient and all, so you know that, but...I'm sorry."
He took a few faltering steps, but then the world began to twist before his eyes and he broke off.
"I guess you'll forgive me," he said. "That's what you're supposed to do, right? You see the big picture, there's nothing..." He sighed, let his head drop into his hand. "I forgot," he said weakly.
The world had stopped swimming a little, and he took a hesitant step. Still dizzy, but he couldn't stay still--not now. Another step, and then another. Careful as he could be, tender paces, as though the earth could rear up and bite him at any moment.
"I wanted so badly to justify myself," he said slowly. "I wanted so badly for you...I wanted so badly to believe it was all fucked up. And it...it is all fucked up, isn't it?" He looked towards the night sky above, ran a hand over his burning forehead. "We do it to ourselves, over and over and over. I thougt Polanski was your little miracle, but I was wrong. This is your miracle, isn't it?" He smiled. "Your rapture in miniature. Steal away the innocent and let the sinners rot."
He thought back to the beach--knocking out Soryu, talking with the guard. "It's how I would have done it," he said grimly. "If I were...if I wanted to teach them a lesson. Teach
me a lesson. It's exactly how I would have done it. And when I realized that, I..." He shrugged. "I saw it. I saw the bigger picture." He grinned feebly. "Teach people the way to be. Teach them what happens when they give in to their weakness." He thought of all he'd seen on the island--he thought, mainly, of the people he'd killed. "Don't punish the sinners," he said. "Just refuse to show them mercy."
Step. Step.
"I was...it was absolute bullshit, what I said," Raidon said. "When I accused you of setting this in motion. We're the agents of our own destruction--we're the ones who rape and kill, we're the hunters of Little Crow and the perpetrators of genocide. Evil exists in spite of You--that's how it works." He grimaced. "I...I wanted an excuse. If you were evil, I could be evil without...I could foresake what I believed in without consequence. I was just part of the game."
Step. Ste-
His last step faltered. He hesitated, squinted to try and make sure of what he was seeing. It was a truck, he thought--uneven, somewhat rusted. He couldn't tell what color it was.
There was something lumpy to one side of it. An odd shape that made Raidon's throat feel tight.
He forgot about his conversation with God. He forgot about his panic, about the heat that seemed to have encased him. He forgot about the dizzy panic of each step. He didn't even notice he had moved until he was already standing over the body. The face was unrecognizable--a bloody pulp above which flies buzzed. But even if hadn't known his best friend's sillouette by instinct, he would have recognized the jean jacket.
He knelt at his side and let one hand trail along his arm. The fingers were curled as though they'd been holding a gun--a gun Raidon found almost immediately. He checked the clip without thinking about it--no bullets.
"What did you do, you fool," Raidon sighed.
He looked up towards the night sky--the stars stretching out to infinity in either direction. He thought about all that had happened over the past few days--of his face-off with Victoria Logan and Alice Blake, Maddy Stone's attack, Victoria's revenge, Jacob's charge on Soryu. Thought of the fight with Roland--the moment things had all gone wrong.
He started to get up. His legs quivered beneath him, then failed, and he pitched into the side of the truck and slid down, barely managing to protect himself. His fingers found a strange patch of earth to one side--when he bent to inspect it, he realized it was dried blood.
He looked down at Simon's leg. Saw the bloodstained hole ripped in his jeans.
For a guy who studied so much, you're kind of a dumbass.
And what the hell happened to you? Looks like you were waiting for him.
It's a long story and I'd rather not talk about it. Suffice to say, I'm a saint and you're an asshole.
You always were a stuck-up prick.
And you were always a fucking idiot.
What do you want from me? I'm doing what I have to.
You know there's more to life than just staying alive.
I have to be alive to enjoy that fact, Simon. How'd that work out for you?
If I wasn't resting with a chorus of angels, I would've been burned by that.
I got Soryu out.
...Yeah. That was good of you. What are you doing now?
Jesus, I look like I know?
Nah, guess not. You don't have to do this, you know.
Do what?
Hold yourself to your bulllshit standard. So what if you're a collosal fuck-up? Try and make it right.
I'm a survivor, Simon. I don't know as I have much choice.
You had a choice. Could've shot me in the Tunnels.
Didn't have to.
Why not?
You would never have turned on me.
You don't know that.
Were you buying time for someone to get away?
...That's...
Thought so. You lived your life the way you had to; I'm afraid it's my right to do the same.
Well, I tried. You gonna keep your eye on the big picture this time?
Much good it'll do me. That might just make me more dangerous.
Hmm. Raidon?
Yeah?
I would've taken her damn bra off.
Like that thought hasn't crossed my mind.
"...trying to make a break for it. Jacqueline Myrie, Samantha Ridley, Joss Joiner, Alice Blake, Peter McCue, Yelizaveta Volkova, Alex Jackson, Raymond Dawson, Kaitlin Anderheim, Cisco Vasquez, Allen Birkman, Isabel Guerra, Mizore Soryu..."
He wasn't sure exactly when he woke up, but when he had the sky had already lightened and the Announcents were solidly in progress. He was so distracted by Alice's name (a fleeting, glad thought--
I won't have to deal with her, too) that it took him a moment to realize his fever had broken or that the voice on the Announcements was different. When he heard Soryu's name, however, his thoughts went completely blank for several seconds.
No.
No desperation, no despair; just the clear thought. He could see the bigger picture--the names they were rattling off, a different voice on the Announcements. They had left the killers behind to prove a point, and now the men who'd once held all the power were scrambling to keep ahold of their miniature hell.
Plus, someone else was doing the Announcements. It had happened before, if Raidon recalled correctly but...in the wake of everything else...
Something had happened to Danya.
Raidon looked down at Simon's body. Without thinking he wrapped his hands around his friend's shoulders and placed his feet against the body. He pulled, turned--his friend's body rolled so that it faced the ground, and after a moment's hard tugging the jean jacket came loose.
No guilt. Simon Grey had long since departed this world.
He shrugged on the too-big jacket, reshouldered his bag, and stepped away from the truck and off the road entirely.
(Naoko Raidon continued in
Into the Jaws of Hell)