The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (43 page)

The lights flashing upon Sofia’s closed eyelids, coupled with the familiar sound of brass instruments accompanied by a woodwind harmony, brought her mind to that suspended mental state between sleep and wakefulness. As if it were all a dream, she could hear the music so lively and real. The lights of their bedroom were so bright and golden, reflecting off the brass decorations that adorned their home.

As Sofia opened her eyes, she found John by her side.

“Hello, dear,” she said, hardly able to comprehend that the whole ordeal of the past had not been one long nightmare.

“We’re almost there,” he said coldly.

Sitting up to the sound of a blaring horn from a passing vehicle, Sofia was drenched with the neon glow and music of the city: a living, rainbow-fantasy land of vibrant hues and jazzy music that poured through the windshield and bloomed upon the interior of their transporter. Rolling down her window, she allowed the soft drops of rain to enter in. The dull melody of the live bands outside filled her ears, full and rich in their tones, sautéed over with the laughter of the citizens of Golden as they walked under the dryness of their umbrellas, lining the sidewalks at the various fine establishments that decorated their streets. They appeared to be drunk with happiness and overabundance. Thousands upon thousands of people strolling through a concrete wonderland where no one seemed to exhibit the misery so prevalent on every one of the previous planets they had
visited.

With the traffic moving at such a slow and inconsistent pace, Sofia was able to take in the details of the lavishness of the city’s architectural beauty. Carved with statues of men and women, children and animals, the layers of brass fixtures and light poles that streamed along the walkways… it was over-stimulating to the brain, and an appropriate superfluous-ness for a citizenry so absorbed and preoccupied with itself that the sufferings of others, and a war that threatened to tear apart the binding threads of their fragile society, appeared non-existent.

Pulling the handheld computer out of his coat pocket and flipping it on, John tapped the screen just below the target’s address, bringing up a detailed map that was leading them in real-time to his location. Propping it upon the dashboard, he ignored the present celebratory environment, refusing to let his mind get caught up in the overabundance of the lifestyle of the people of wealth, as it had no bearing upon their mission. Mumbling under his breath at the slowness of the traffic, he squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were glowing white.

As the closing of the first hour was nearing, John began to get more impatient. Realizing that they only had a few blocks left to traverse, but that it might take another hour, perhaps more, under the present conditions of the flow, he looked back over his shoulder. Without hesitation he cut their vehicle to the right hand lane, attempting to find a parking spot along the curb of the street.

“We need to get out and walk the rest of the way,” he said.

“Walk? Why? It’s raining out there,” Sofia commented, being cognizant of her tones and the soreness of her leg, trying not to offend his prideful leadership.

“We’re not going to make the three-hour time if we don’t,” he said, slamming his hand on the dash as they came to another stop in the road.

“John, it’s alright. We’ll make it.”

Sofia made the attempt to calm him with her smile, but he was making a conscious effort to ignore her innocent remarks. He understood that she believed that this was a mere recon mission. She was purposefully kept out of the loop regarding the assassination objective. There was no thought in her mind that violence was the end product of their journey on the planet.

With no end in sight to the multitudes of vehicles lining the streets ahead of them, John picked up the handheld and slipped it back into his pocket. Pinching the communications device at his throat he whispered into it, “This is Team Three leader. Abandoning vehicle and moving on foot, how copy, Team One?”

Banks’ voice returned immediately, “Do what you have to do. Time’s running out and you need to be at that transporter before it takes off. Over.”

“Roger that,” John whispered, as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“What are you doing, John?” Sofia asked in concern.

“We’re getting out right now.”

“But what about the transporter?”

“We’re leaving it here. When the time comes, I’ll get us another one,” he said, slowing the vehicle to a stop in the middle of the busy street.

Opening the door and stepping out to the greetings of horns and cursings from the occupants of the vehicles behind them, John ignored their jeers. Walking around their transporter, he assisted Sofia out the door and onto her feet. Taking her by the hand and pulling her onto the sidewalk, they disappeared into the strolling crowds.

Pretending to be looking over a message on his handheld, John discreetly picked up a folded umbrella that was left hanging from a railing at the front of a restaurant. Opening it up, he blocked the cold drops of the sky from falling upon them.

Directed into a narrow alleyway that crossed to the streets on the other side, Sofia fought against the pain in her leg, refusing to limp in John’s sight. Bringing them closer to the target’s location faster than would have been possible had they remained with their transporter, John had it firmly planted in his mind that they would not be stranded on Golden once the three hours had expired. With several shortcuts becoming readily available to them by leaving the vehicle, he guessed that they would be losing at least thirty minutes from his former estimation… if everything went smoothly.

As they neared the residential area of the city, the rain began to subside turning, instead, to a light mist that hovered about in the breeze. The street’s occupants drastically thinned out. John no longer needed to force his way through the throng, allowing him to pick up the pace. Sofia’s ability to maintain the agonizing stride that John was demanding was effectuated only by her will to keep him in the dark about her current condition.

Turning the corner of the final stretch, both John and Sofia could see the target’s building from across the intersection: an apartment at the corner where two streets met. Waiting for a clearing in the traffic, they held each other’s hands as they crossed the asphalt road. Stepping onto the sidewalk just outside the complex, Sofia took in a breath of relief, discreetly placing the comforting pressure of her hand upon the bandaged wounds of her thigh.

Keeping within the shadows of the alley at the far side of the building, John took extra precautions to be sure that they were not seen. If there was somebody watching them, hidden behind one of the darkened windows, he thought, neither he nor Sofia would be recognizable to any degree of precision.

Pinching his microphone, John spoke into it once again, “This is Team Three leader. How copy Team One?”

Banks once again returned his voice without hesitation.

“Go ahead, Team Three.”

“We’re outside the target’s apartment. We need more details. Over.”

“Hold for further instructions.”

John sighed and placed his hand on the side of the building.

“It’s okay, John. It’s almost over,” Sofia said, trying to console his anger.

Banks’ voice returned, “Team Three leader, this is Team One. How copy?”

Frustrated with their formal radio procedure, John spoke harshly into the mic, “Just give me the room number, Banks!”

There was a moment of silence. Then, in a tone of irritation, Banks returned, “Three-three-one-alpha. Over.”

Taking Sofia by the hand, John mumbled, “It’s about time.”

Entering the apartment lobby was like entering their home back in Labor’s forest. The shininess of the brass, the lights dangling off the ceiling, the rugs decorating the wood flooring, nearly everything, including the smells of flowery perfumes, felt comforting and familiar.

A red rug lined the rich, wooden steps leading to the upper stories. Sofia looked at them with disdain. She foresaw the pain that was in store for her upon scaling such a steep slope.

As they began the ascent cautiously looking about their surroundings, John noticed that the most prominent entity of Labor, the Security, was nonexistent. The governing agency of Golden was more than confident in the security of its distant location in the universe, he thought.

The sleek, dark banister was Sofia’s best friend during the climb, allowing her to place the majority of her weight on something other than her own wounded extremity. The muffled laughter and brassy music of the hallways, spilling through the doors of the apartment complex, flooded her ears with the drunken revelry of the structure’s occupants.

As they stepped onto the final leg leading to the third floor, they passed by an elderly couple that kindly smiled at them, greeting them as if they were old acquaintances before passing by. Despite her suffering, Sofia seemed quite pleased with their good-natured demeanor, while John had to force a smile in order to avoid looking too out of place.

Upon reaching the target’s floor, the ascending numerical order on the doors revealed to them that the room with which they were seeking was only a little further down the hall.

“Which room number are we looking for?” Sofia whispered.

Pulling her behind him, John turned to her and said, “Just walk behind me. I’ll take care of everything.”

“But isn’t there anything that I can do to help?” she asked.

John came to a rest. The racing of his mind made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the objective at hand. But, despite the fact that he was so near to bringing a closure to the mission, that he was about to make one last revenge-kill upon his true enemy, he opened his mouth and spoke, “Remember when I told you that I wanted you to return to Labor, but you wouldn’t listen to me?”

Sofia nodded in affirmation.

“What we’re about to do… what I’m about to do, is the exact reason I didn’t want you to come along. I’m going to be doing exactly what I was forced into during those years that we were separated. I don’t want to tell you what that means. But I’m giving you the option to come with me, or stay here. And, I’m telling you right now, if you choose to go with me, your life, your whole outlook on everything in the world, may change, just as mine has. And in a way that you never meant for it to.”

Rubbing the moisture of her palms together, Sofia contemplated her options for a brief moment. She was still so in love with him. And she could see that, hidden under the rough exterior, John was still the same boy that she had known many years ago. She did not understand his cryptic language. Making up her mind on the spot, she answered him, “I love you, John. No matter what happens, I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”

“Okay,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s finish this
together.”

Approaching his target’s living quarters, John could see that the brass numbers on the door correlated precisely with Banks’ data. He could hear a muffled laughter from within. As he pulled the pistol from his holster, Sofia limped back, wide-eyed and startled.

“What are you…?” she began to ask, but John placed his hand over her mouth.

“I told you, Sofia. You’re not going to like what you see. But I still need you to stay quiet, okay?” he said, uncovering her mouth.

As his hand dropped from her face, a sudden, nauseating realization, like black ink spilling over her heart, fell upon her. By going along with John on the mission, she was consenting to enter into his nightmare, to be an active participant of his violent world, and she dreaded the consequences.

The absence of any locked resistance of the doorknob never changed John’s expression, even as he found the entrance into the room to be of little concern. He was not surprised in the least to find such a lacking security system in place.

The brass hinges of the door were smooth and silent as he gently moved it aside. A tall lamp that stood at the far end of, what appeared to be, the living room, dimly lit the marvelously decorated walls. Leading Sofia inside, John closed the door behind them. Silently walking across the carpeted floor, he led her to a darkened corner, hidden behind the end table of a long couch.

The laughter and conversation of the people in the next room were now clear and boisterous. Listening intently to their inflections and pitches, John determined that there were two elderly men and their wives having a sit down for a late afternoon lunch. According to his watch they were now past the first hour, heading into the thirty-minute mark of the next.

Pulling back with a slight force on the slide of his pistol, he made sure that there was a cartridge already chambered. Then, with a look of concern, he said to Sofia, “Don’t move from this position. If you need to get away from the things you’re about to hear, you can close your eyes and cover your ears. It’s going to be terrible once I enter that room, but you need to stay here for your safety and mine. Okay?”

Sofia did not like what she was hearing. She was scared, and the feeling of heavy nausea permeated her entire being. But she could see in John’s eyes that he was serious, dead serious, and that perhaps there was a greater good that was supposed to come from all
this.

Maryanne used to explain to her, with regards to the war they were waging, that the deaths of a few would be the saving grace of the many. Although Sofia never fully understood the rationality behind the concept, she used to let Maryanne continue on as if she was always correct. Sofia never advocated for other options, never gave Maryanne food for thought as to why someone would hold to a differing view… and here she was in the same boat with John, and still, she could get herself to say nothing. She was angered against her own weakness. She had a chance to possibly avert the senseless violence that was about to occur. But something inside of her was preventing it, as if she believed that John would not actually go through with the harm of these strangers.

John waited for a moment. Sofia’s silence was enough of an answer for him, and he knew that he had to act fast. Leaving Sofia hidden in the shadows, he sneaked off, drawing closer to the voices, pausing at the threshold of the dining area. Peering around the corner into the adjoining room, he was unnoticeable, essentially invisible for the moment, as the two couples merrily went about their
business.

The face of the man sitting at the head of the table had a curious familiarity, as if John had recognized him from an event in his past. To the elderly man’s right hand sat his wife, covering her lips as she laughed with a mouthful of food. She carried on with the aged woman sitting in front of her.

Entering the room, John’s target stopped mid-laughter, turning pale to the surprise of his wife and their guests.

“Dear. What’s the matter?” the old woman asked him.

“Dave, are you alright?” the man sitting beside him, concerned and taking hold of his arm, called out.

Oddly enough, the second man, John thought, was unnervingly familiar in his own rights. Removing the napkin from his lap, the target placed it on his plate.

“May I help you, young man?” he asked with a trembling
hesitation.

To the astonished gasps of everyone in the room, they turned to look upon John. Stepping into the dining room, he walked to the far end of the rectangular table.

“What’s your name?” John asked bringing the pistol level with the old man’s head.

“Arlington. My name’s David Arlington,” he responded, raising his open hands into the air. “Have we met before?” the elderly target questioned, as if he, too, felt that same sense of déjà vu that John was experiencing.

Unable to immediately place his face, and realizing that he was wasting time, John left off trying to identify the man, returning once again to the mission objective.

“You have some information that I need, and you know what I’m talking about. Where is it?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to, young man,” Arlington said with a hesitant, but nervous laugh.

Pointing the pistol at his wife, John said to him, “You don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be. You know what I’m after.”

Taking her husband by the arm, Arlington’s wife cried out to him for protection.

“I’m going to get what I want one way or another,” John said, gritting his teeth.

The old man shamefully looked upon his attending guests. He was fearful, probably for the first time in his life, and he was just as weak as Central had believed him to be.

“It’s on my computer in the bedroom drawer. It has everything you need,” he said.

Arlington’s elderly friend grabbed him by the arm, exclaiming, “David, what are you doing?”

“Sofia,” John called out. “Go to the bedroom and search the drawers. There’s a handheld inside one of them. I need you to bring it here.”

Upon his command Sofia obeyed his order, running down the hall that extended away from the living room. Pale and sweating profusely, she entered the sleeping chambers. The shaking of her hands was outside her control as she stopped to look around, attempting to straighten out her thoughts. There were so many drawers and doors, closets full of clothes and more drawers. Randomly choosing a starting point, she began digging frantically through the nearest set, throwing out the contents haphazardly onto the
floor.

Arlington and his friend seemed to be at odds with regards to the choices being made. The elderly gentleman seemed crushed by his decision, but he was not going back against it. His companion, on the other hand, was getting more bold and threatening, standing up and pointing at John.

“Are you a leader for the resistance? Or, are you just one of their pawns? How dare you come in here demanding anything of us,” he yelled.

The burning in John’s eyes was like the consuming fire he felt on the battlefields and in the training room of death.

“You need to sit down, old man,” John whispered coldly.

Arlington’s companion looked back at him with astonishment, as if he had never been talked down to.

“Are we just going to stand here and take this, Dave? This man’s a mere dog, a disgrace to humanity.”

Fearfully, Arlington stood up. Taking his friend by the arm, he said, “Corona, please, you need to calm down.”

Corona’s eyes were deep and menacing, taking John back in time to a day long ago, to a place in the distant, dark past. He was sitting at a sterile table. The General was sitting in front of him.

“John we have some bad news,” he said. “Sofia’s dead.”

Lieutenant Corona chuckled under his breath, figuring John to be unattentitive to his surroundings due to the traumatic news he had just received.

A single step in Corona’s direction was followed up with a question from John, “Did Sofia die, Lieutenant?”

Corona looked at him with startled curiosity.

“How is it that you know my rank?” he asked suspiciously.

Sofia entered the room shouting, “John I found it!”

Pulling the handheld from his pocket, John kept his eyes on the two officers as he handed his computer to her.

“Go back to the other room,” he said. “Plug the two machines together and follow the prompts on the screen.”

As Sofia was about to leave the room, she had her first look into the fearful eyes that belonged to the voices she had been hearing. The men and their wives seemed so helpless. Seeing her hesitate, John nudged her through the threshold. Returning back to the living room, she sat down upon the soft cushions of the couch. Plugging the two handhelds together, Sofia began the process of uploading the data to Central.

Corona had not answered his question, and John eyes were searing through him like hot coals.

“So, Lieutenant, is she dead?” John asked once again, slowly inching closer.

The old man began to lose heart, cowering behind his wife.

“You were searching for the One, remember?” John questioned. “You were sent to Raw, and that really put a wrinkle in whatever plans you had for that day.”

Corona’s image of John was being brought into focus as he suddenly remembered the event… the day when they sent John to the Sweeper training. Realizing that he was standing face to face with one of his own cold-blooded assassins, his legs began to weaken, and he fell back into his chair.

“Sofia, you need to close your ears now, dear,” John hollered out.

“John,” her voice returned, soft and innocent, he had not called her by that endearing term for, what seemed, an eternity. “Is everything alright?”

“Just stay in the other room and close your ears,” he said.

Creeping up to the dining room entrance, taking one last look around the corner, Sofia could see the two couples huddled close together, weeping and begging for their lives. Entering in, she placed her hand upon John’s back.

“You don’t have to do this. It’s not right.”

Hardened in face, he turned to her and said, “They did this to themselves. Now go.”

Sofia could see that he was not in the mindset to rationalize with. Stepping away from him, she took one last look at the cowering party before hobbling back into the living room, kneeling down beside one of the couches. She wanted to close her ears. She was terrified for the strangers. Lifting the skirt of her dress, she unwound the bandage that John had placed earlier upon her wound. It smelled raw and sickly. The redness and pain around the swelling signified something more pernicious was taking place within her body than she could comprehend. With the pressure of her palm pressed into her leg, Sofia rested her head upon the arm of the couch beside her and wept.

“We did what we had to do, John,” Arlington spoke, consoling his wife in his arms. “We were under orders, just like you are
now.”