I never understood why suicide was considered a cardinal sin.
The way Catholics tell it, life down here in the real world is a punishment for original sin, seeing how Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden for eating some forbidden apple. I know, I know. The story isn’t supposed to be taken at face value. It’s an allegory for accepting or rejecting divine authority, and the consequences we all face due to free will, temptation, and our inborn desire for autonomy. Or something like that. I never paid much attention in church or prayer study, but the general gist I got was that life is a test of faith. A trial, a pilgrimage, a gift from God, yet a test all the same to see if we follow the rules by our own free will, and then and only then will we be allowed into Heaven.
Which don’t make no sense at all. If God gave us free will, then why, in His infinite wisdom, does He expect us all to follow the rules, when he the one who gave us free will in first place? Seems counter intuitive don’t it? You can’t give someone the option to do something, then get mad when they do it. It’d be like inviting guests over for dinner and getting upset when they show up, because you only made the invitation to be polite.
What I’m getting at is that if God wanted us all to act a certain way, then giving us free will is not how you go about making it happen. Tests of faith are one thing, but if we have free will, then why aren’t we allowed to opt out? Seems petty is all, which is why I always thought making suicide a cardinal sin a mite harsh. I seen a lot in my days and had to cut more than my fair share of dead danglers down from the rafters, but I ain’t never had anything for them except pity. Don’t no one want to die. They just do it because they believe the alternative is worse. Takes a lot to push someone that far, and while I can’t say I understand it, I ain’t ever blamed no one for it. When it’s the dead of winter and you got no food left, or the building is on fire and you six stories up, the only choice you got left is a slow and painful death or a quick and painless one. Life is hard, and for some, the easy way out is much preferable to the alternative, and I don’t think it’s fair to deny those poor souls the Kingdom of Heaven just because they couldn’t hack it.
I’m not saying you should let them all in neither. It’s just sometimes in life, you get dealt a bad hand, and there ain’t nothing you can do except fold.
Like poor Mr. Ramirez who not only lost someone near and dear to his heart, but felt wholly responsible for it. Man thought he couldn’t live with that, which is the sort passion and romance that loves songs are literally written about. This the first time I seen someone punch their own ticket though, instead of stumbling into the aftermath, and I gotta say, none of the songs, poems, and stories I ever heard mentioned how gruesome a self-inflicted gunshot can be. Ain’t no songs about how a Bolt to the chin at point blank range will pop your head from the inside out like a meat balloon. It’s all that pressure you see, as the Force of the Bolt drives it upwards through your skull to displace blood, bone, and brain matter, driving it all aside to burrow a channel through you head until the pressure builds to a point where your skull simply explodes at the other end. The entry wound won’t be more than a small hole you could barely fit your pinky through, and maybe some burn marks too. The exit though? Ain’t nothing there but a crater, one which blew clumps of gore and hair out in a conical spray to paint the walls and cabinets of the Ramirez kitchen in a bloody and visceral mess.
Even popped his eyes, burst them from the inside to leak liquified brain out from those now sightless orbs, which you most certainly ain’t gonna hear about in no song.
They don’t talk about the twitching either, though I’ve grown accustomed to the sight, and the stench too as the spasms come to an end and the body wholly relaxes in death. Tina ain’t used to it though, and with all the other horrors she’s witnessed tonight, it’s enough to push her right over the edge. I hear her turn and vomit behind me, and I can only hope she was far enough back to miss out on the moment of truth. Despite the loving couple laid out together in death, there’s no warm sentiment here, no glamourous end or entwining love, as all the romance and passion has been superseded by the cold finality of ugly death, one I will spare Josie from having to see no matter the cost. Ain’t right of Mr. Ramirez to go out like that, to just die alongside his wife and leave his daughter to someone else, abandoning her in a time when she needs her family, her father, the most.
Can’t help but think about how my daddy felt, having to watch my mama die then work himself to the bone keeping her killer alive. He must have been hurting just as bad, but he pushed through and kept going because it was the right thing to do, and it fills me with a cold rage to know Mr. Ramirez couldn’t do the same for Josie.
So I get it now. Suicide is a sin. There is no romance or passion here, no glamour or glory to be found. Only apathic disregard and utter selfishness for those you leave behind, the friends and family closest to you and everyone else who has to deal with the fallout, which in this case is me. Tina’s sobbing kicks me out of my stupor and into high gear as I turn around and herd her out and away from the kitchen. “It’s okay,” I say, pulling out a clean kerchief and Intoning, “Obtestor – Aqua – Sphaera,” to Conjure up a Water Sphere. “You’re okay.”
This is the first time I’ve waggled my phantom fingers in front of someone that wasn’t transformed into a cute critter, but Tina don’t notice. Now ain’t the time to mention it though, as she stands there all distraught and devastated with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why did he do that?” she asks, her voice no louder than a whisper as I rinse vomit out of her hair and wipe her eyes and mouth. “He didn’t have to do that…”
“Wasn’t him,” I say, tending to her with a gentle touch and wishing I had a second hand to hold hers tight. “Was the Madness, understand? It got up in his head, so he wasn’t in his right mind. The Madness done him in, and that’s that.”
Tina doesn’t reply, just puts her head down and cries. I got no other words of comfort for her, but when all is said and done, I give a hug that we both need dearly and a light kiss to the temple before directing her to stay by the front door. Ostensibly to watch for looters or crazed killers while I clean up, but we both know that ain’t why she’s posted at the door. She’s there so she don’t have to go back into the kitchen, an out she’s more than grateful to take as I head back in to deal with the corpses.
Done it once, done it a thousand times. Don’t matter how horrific it is or how bad it smells, and makes no difference if it’s someone I know and the parents of a girl I’m more than sweet on. A body is a body, dead meat and empty flesh, no more, no less. Clean up is clean up. The tablecloths come out, which I use to wrap the bodies so nothing shows. Mark which one is which, though it takes some doing to remember their full names. Guillermo and Amy Ramirez, a love story for the ages maybe, but here and now, they’re two corpses I haul up onto the Floating Disc and keep parked in the kitchen to spare Tina from having to see them. Job ain’t done though, not by a long shot, because I can’t let Noora and Josie come back to a blood-stained, gore spattered kitchen, now can I? So I waggle my phantom fingers and Intone the chant to Conjure up another Water Sphere which I toss at the walls before Conjuring up another. The Conjured Water flows down to the hardwood floor alongside most of the mess, which I get to by splashing a bucket of real water out and using Shape Water swirl it around before jumping back into the bucket and emptying it into the side hedges with no one the wiser.
Takes some doing, and once most the gore is dealt with, I have another go at the kitchen with rags, a mop, and elbow grease. Add in some liberal use of Prestidigitation to get those tough spots and Gust to clear out the smells, and the kitchen is clean as it’ll ever be, minus a few scuffs, chips, and knife marks in the floor, walls, and cabinets. Even then, I don’t think I could ever look at this kitchen again without seeing what I just cleaned, not for many, many years yet. That said, even I gotta admit I’m stalling now, because I told Josie I’d see her parents safe back to the church, and now I don’t know what I’m gonna say. How do I tell her I failed and her parents are dead, both by her own father’s hand?
I don’t know, but there’s nothing I can do except saddle up and get at it. Feels like a dream, a nightmare really, as I lead Tina back through the quiet, empty streets, moving from globe to illuminated globe as the street lights hold back the pitch blackness of empty night. I do everything by the book, keeping careful vigil and an ear out for danger, but it’s all autopilot really. Feels like I blink and I’m back in front of the church, where the singing Padre greets me with a look of pained grief when he sees the wrapped bodies on the Floating Disc behind me. His music is meant to counter charms and Enchantments, so it don’t do nothing to lift my spirits, nor does it do anything for his. The Ramirez’s weren’t among the first families here, but they been here longer than most, and some of the Padre’s most devout worshippers. Without missing a beat in his song, he gestures for me to place the bodies to one side, where he’ll stand watch over them until he can give them their last rites.
Say what you will about the Padre, but he’s more than earned my respect tonight. Man made himself a target standing out here and opened up the doors to his church because it was the right thing to do, and as I head on in with Tina at my side, I see that he’s saved more lives tonight than a dozen of me ever could. The pews are packed with townsfolk all huddled together for comfort, while Aunty Ray oversees things to make sure they all got food, blankets, and healthcare if they need it. Busy as a bee she is, but not so busy that she don’t spot her daughter in the crowd and sense that Tina needs her. That’s how mothers are after all, she’s the best around. Opens up her arms and Tina shoots right into her embrace with a sob, and Aunty Ray still got time to spare me a glance too. Me, I give her a nod to let her know I’m all right, then go back to scanning the crowd for Josie and Noora. They ain’t hard to find, one with a big red ribbon tied in bunny ears, the other with long, luxurious locks highlighted in glowing purple, both working side by side to deliver food and blankets to those in need. I spot them before they spot me, and make my way over unseen, right up until I can’t hide no more and open my mouth to speak.
“Josie,” I say, catching her by surprise, and she starts to smile at the sight of me until she sees the expression on my face. “I have terrible news. Take a seat. You too Noora.” She does, guided into a pew with Noora sitting next to her, and I give it to them straight without mincing words after taking a knee. “Your parents are dead. The Madness got them both. I’m sorry.”
Hurts to say, and hurts to see how it devastates them both. Noora shrinks back from the news, looking so small and vulnerable as she mourns the loss of her new family, while Josie sits there in dazed bewilderment, still yet to process the words that I’ve said. Take her long seconds to get through it, to push past the denial and face the facts, and it kills me to watch her go through it. Doesn’t matter that she’s got Noora on her arm or me right here in front of her, holding her hand and squeezing it just to remind her she ain’t alone. She is though, because no matter how many people we might have around us, we all go through this alone, alone and afraid and angry as all heck. There ain’t no way around it. The struggle is a solitary one, a misery we all must confront on our own as we bid farewell to someone we love, because your first instinct is always to deny it. To reject the facts and cling to hope, forsaken hope that this is all some dream, some cruel joke, or horrible mistake. That maybe I went to the wrong house, mistook two strangers for her parents, or some other grand, cosmic error took place and her parents are still alive and well.
I get it. I watched my daddy draw his last breath and kept doing CPR for hours hoping he’d just wake up and open his eyes despite the three Bolt wounds in his chest. Grief makes fools of us all.
Not Josie though, who sits there with lips aquiver blinking her big doe eyes until they’re full of tears. Breaks me to see it, and I’m not sure if she pulls me in for a hug because she needs it, or I lean in because I do. Either way, I wrap my arms around her and Noora both and hold them tight, wishing I could’ve done something, anything to spare them from this pain. If only I’d acted faster, or said something to her father, done something to make him understand his daughter still needs him. Daughters, in fact, because Noora was a part of their family too, meaning the poor girl’s been orphaned twice now.
Kills me to know I failed them, but this ain’t about me. It’s about them and their loss, so I stay strong and stoic as can be and wish things were otherwise.
I do all that I can to get them over this initial bump, answering questions when they’re ready to ask them and bringing them out to see the bodies. I don’t unwrap them then and there of course, but I let them see their mama and hold their papa’s hand. Ain’t no denying it then, and the absence of hope is sorely felt as it is drowned in a deluge of facts. The Madness took them both, I make this very clear, to Noora and Josie as well as the Padre singing nearby, who’s giving us our space to grieve in solitude but keeping an ear and an eye on us should he be needed. Suicide may be a cardinal sin, but I’m calling this exigent circumstances because any merciful God would. Still can’t forgive the man for what he done, taking the cowards way out like that, because he should’ve stuck it out. I get it, man couldn’t handle the harsh new reality and went out on his own terms, but he needed to man up and be here for his daughters, regardless of how he felt. I see this now, because a romantic death does nothing for Josie and Noora, the daughter he raised and the other accepted, girls who more than anything need their daddy to stand strong beside them and shoulder the tragedies of today.
They’ll get through this eventually though. I know they will. When the girls are all cried out, I bring them back to my room in the church, which I’ve been staying in all this while. Still don’t got a roommate, so I set the girls up inside and bid them goodnight. They don’t argue, because neither of them ready to go home just yet, and they feel safer and more secure here in the church, because Lord knows how long before the Proggie hits us with another round of Madness or maybe even something worse. Once they’re settled in, I check in on Chrissy, who’s been closed off in her room all night with Cowie, being a good girl and staying out of the way so her mama and sister can help out. Cowie’s fast asleep in her arms, snoring the night away, while Chrissy sits there on her bed with her back straight as she cradles his tiny, furry form and stares out into nothing while lost inside her head. Hate leaving her to her own devices like this, but sometimes there ain’t no other way, so I take a knee, tap her hand, and settle in to wait for her to come out of her shell.
Takes a minute, maybe two. Could be more if I’m being honest, as I kinda zoned out, and I come to when she leans forward to cup my cheeks with her pale violet eyes never quite meeting mine. “Howie okay?” She asks, tilting her head in question.
Imagine that. I come in to check on her, and now she’s checking up on me. “Yeah,” I say, doing my best to muster up a smile and failing horrifically. “I’m okay.”
Chrissy tilts her head the other way, which sets the big pink bow-tip atop her hair to bouncing. “Liar,” she declares, and she ain’t wrong.
“Yeah,” I say again, agreeing with her statement. “I will be though. I will be.” Chrissy seems to understand, and even pats my head to comfort me. “How are you doin’? The Madness scare you?”
“No.” Shaking her head, she points at her bow, or at least that’s what it looks like. “Mama’s Spell. See?”
Meaning Aunty Ray’s Mental Fortress kept Chrissy safe and sound. Talented as she is, even Chrissy can’t cast enough Third Order Spells to maintain it the whole day, as she can only cast it 3 times same as me. That’s 6 hours, and Aunty Ray handles the rest of the day, but from what I hear, the Padre and the Consecrated grounds of the church was enough to keep everyone sane and safe. “That’s good,” I reply, without answering her question, because if I say no, Chrissy will keep trying to show me. She’s still miffed I can’t sling the Spell right, as it’s been weeks and she thinks I should’ve gotten it by now, but whatever it is she’s trying to show me, I got no earthly idea what it is.
Nor does Tina or Aunty Ray, so there’s that at least. I ain’t the only one who don’t get it, as whatever it is, it’s something only Chrissy can see.
After waking Cowie so he’ll keep her engaged, I bring her dinner plates out to the kitchen sink, then head out to see what I can do to help. Plenty, as there are still people streaming in to seek refuge and assistance, so I keep myself busy doing first aid, handing out blankets, setting up cots, and doling out cups of soup wherever I can. Right up until Aunty Ray finds me again and sits me down to treat my own wounds, which I’d forgotten all about. The sting of the antiseptic on the marks Noora’s nails left in my neck ain’t nothing compared to the hammer to the chest the embroidered kerchief delivers me, as I look upon the neatly stitched ‘HZ & JR’ and wonder if things might’ve turned out different if Mr. Ramirez hadn’t seen them there.
It's such a pretty piece of work, and I can tell Josie was the one whodunnit. A token of her affections, one covered in lively green stems, pretty pink flowers, and dried brown blood set into the bright white fabric. Most of it mine, but there’s a streak of gore that couldn’t have come from me, a splash that could only have come from Mr. Ramirez during my failed bid to stop him. Soon as Aunty Ray gives me the all clear, I find a bucket of water and bring it outside to a bench in front of the church, where I get to scrubbing and slinging so I can get the stain right out. A bit of soap and Prestidigitation is usually enough to get things done, but even after cleaning the kerchief a handful of times, it still don’t feel clean to me.
And I need it to be, need to remove that stain of failure from this wonderful, heartfelt gift, a symbol of Josie’s feelings which I’ve defiled with disappointment. So I use Shape Water to draw out all the water without wrinkling the fabric, then wet it again and use Prestidigitation to remove the blemish that only I can see. Then I do it again, and again, and again, all the while taking the utmost care not to wrinkle or wear out this kerchief which means so very much to me.
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“Never easy getting bloodstains out of silk.” Uncle Teddy’s shadow should’ve given him away, but I been lost in my business out here. Takes me a tick to register his presence, and another to parse through his words, which up until now were just empty sounds that startled me out of my stupor. Uncle Teddy uses the time to take a seat beside me, before beckoning at the handkerchief. “Mind if I give it a try?”
The discipline is so ingrained in me, I move to obey before even considering the question, handing the kerchief over without so much as a thought. Immediately regret it of course, but Uncle Teddy treats it like a delicate piece of work as he lays it out across the palm of his hand. Rather than Prestidigitation though, he Casts a Spell I don’t recognize, one which takes some chanting and brings about some lights across the surface of the cloth, ones which permeate into the cloth over the course of the next minute. Then he casts Prestidigitation a few times before folding the kerchief into a two-peak square. “There we go,” he says, tucking it into my breast pocket with a sad little smile. “All clean.”
“Thanks,” I say, knowing he didn’t do nothing but show off some Dancing Lights with a fake chant and finger waggle, but it’s nice to know he cares enough to pretend. And hearing him say it somehow makes it true too, because the Marshal don’t lie. Can’t help but lean in towards him, and he slips his arm around my shoulder like I’m a kid again, and we sitting at the docks to do some fishing or out on the thoroughfare having an ice cream. All by our lonesome, as the Padre went back inside at some point, and brought the Ramirez’s along with him to the mortuary out back.
“Heard you had a rough night.” There’s no demand in Uncle Teddy’s tone, no unspoken request to make a report, just a statement plain and simple.
Still bears answering, so I go with, “Haven’t we all?”
“True enough.” Squeezing my shoulder, Uncle Teddy adds, “Still doesn’t take away from what you went through.”
“…Guess you talked to Tina. How’s she holding up?”
“About as well as anyone can after a night like tonight. How about you?”
“Well enough.” Heaving a sigh, I fiddle with the pocket square for lack of anything better to do. “Just keep wondering if I could’ve done anything different is all. If there was some way I could’ve done better.”
“Always possible,” Uncle Teddy says, which ain’t what I want to hear. “But hindsight is 20/20, and from what I can tell, you’ve done a phenomenal job. To hear Tina tell it, the two of you saved more than a dozen people on the way over to the Ramirez house, snapped them out of their Madness or kept them from hurting themselves and anyone else. That counts for something, son. Learn from failure, but cling fast to your successes too, so that you do not become buried beneath a mountain of regrets.”
There’s something in his tone that makes me glance up at him, at the man my daddy idolized so and see what all the years have done to him. Time was Uncle Teddy was the sternest, most stalwart and heroic man there was, but age has worn him down some. Not much, as he’s still a vital and striking man with a solemn, somber dignity that most lack. Without the military jacket and pins, he could pass for anyone really, from stoic farmer to high-priced lawyer and anything in between, except none of those versions could ever be called meek or weak. Me, I’m out here scrubbing away at a kerchief because I failed to save one man. Uncle Teddy, he’s feeling the weight of every death and injury here in town tonight, and knows there will be more for him to bear once we learn how everyone else fared. From the small communities like Carter’s compound and Mueller’s Quay, to Riverrun and Brightpick across the lake, I can only imagine how they all fared and things ain’t looking bright. Knowing Uncle Teddy like I do, I’m sure he holds himself responsible, because he swore to safeguard and protect the people of this here Frontier, and tonight, he was unable to do so.
Yet in spite of all that, he’s out here to see how I’m doing, when he’s the one who needs help the most.
“How about you?” I ask, just to hear what he’ll say and see how I should be handling things. “You holding up alright?”
“Well enough to get through this.” The facts and nothing else. Uncle Teddy feels the hurt and soldiers through it, which goes to show how far I still have yet to go. “Reports are still trickling in and my Rangers are checking on every household and shop, but suffice it to say the worst is behind us now. No massed shootings, no explosions, no unhinged Spellslingers lobbing Fireballs into crowds, so while I hesitate to call the losses we suffered ‘minor’, tonight had the potential to be so much worse.” Grimacing as he stares up into the night, Uncle Teddy heaves a long, soft sigh, and for a moment, I can almost feel the heavy burden pressing down upon him as he shares the weight of the world upon his shoulders. “The silver lining to all this is that this attack was not unprovoked.”
“Oh?”
“Between us?” I nod, and Uncle Teddy lower’s his voice to a whisper. “We found it,” he says with a rare twinkle in his slate grey eyes. “The Progenitor and Mindspire both, after exploring an underwater tunnel your information led us to. I’ve had Rangers scouring the depths since you brought that map to us, and not two hours ago, a Strike Team returned with confirmation of our target in a flooded cavern far beneath the centre of the lake.”
His words spark no joy, only keen bloodlust at the thought of finally being able to strike back. All these years, this Proggie has been a thorn in our sides, keeping us from making full use of the lake and living our lives carefree, and now we’ve finally got a lock on its location and a means to get down there. “Flooded cavern is tricky,” I say, analyzing the operation like I been taught. “Renders most conventional Aetherarms useless.” Even though a revolver and most semi-automatics will still fire underwater, the Bolt won’t get far before its Force is spent. All the magic in the world can’t do nothing against physics, not for long at least, meaning a Bolt will get about 5m out the barrel before dissipating into nothingness. A far cry from the standard 40m on dry land, with Distant and Extend Duration Metamagics doing nothing to change the facts. A lance won’t get much farther, maybe 15m at most, and I’m pretty sure you can imagine what’d happen if you tried to use a Fire or Lightning Spell like Fireball or Arc underwater.
Not nothing, but water is a phenomenal heatsink and conductor of electricity, which makes both Spells less that ideal.
“That it does,” Uncle Teddy agrees. “Takes some learning to Intone underwater too, because the acoustics or lack thereof tends to throw you off. Problem is, even though the Rangers are trained to do it all, we’ve only a few specialists when it comes to underwater warfare.”
“Like Captain Jung, right?” I ask, remembering she used to be a Marine.
“Top of the list,” he replies, nodding in approval at the suggestion. “I see she left a lasting impression.” I’ll say, though she didn’t seem none too pleased by what I done, as she didn’t say word one to me the whole trip back. “What other issues do you foresee?”
“Resource management,” I say right off the bat. “Water Breathing is a Ritual and will last eight hours, but if the op runs long, your Rangers will need to keep enough in reserve to sling the Spell manually, or have backups in place, like potions or Spell Storage. You’ll also want Mental Fortress on everyone now that the Proggie is slinging Madness, so that’s another Third Order Spell on every member of the team, which only lasts an hour at base. Might also want a Spell for mobility under water, assuming there is one?”
Uncle Teddy winces. “Alter self can let you grow fins or flippers, but it’d be easier just to make a set and wear them. There’s also a few other gadgets and gizmos we could rig up for use, like propulsion rings and buoyant anklets, but in terms of raw Spells, there isn’t much besides the Fourth Order Freedom of Movement. What about our offensive options?”
“Frost Spells and Melee would be king I guess,” I say with a shrug. “What’s Drex Durden up to?”
“On his way back as we speak,” Uncle Teddy replies, and we both share a little smile to hear it. The Marshal is the heart and soul of the Eastern Front, but Drex Durden and his Corridor Companions are part of the backbone that supports it. The prickly Memphis Ranger is difficult to work with, a loner and perfectionist by nature, but his Joint Task Force Special Operations Unit has cleared out more Proggies than any team this side of the Divide. Done it with less ammo than any team too most like, seeing how they’re a bunch of crazy melee enthusiasts from all manner of nationalities. Drex often leads the charge with twin curved kukris each measuring a foot and a half long, weapons crafted with an Adamantine core and a Mithril edge to hold some top tier Imbuements, one of Frost and the other Shielding. Man can shoot as well as any, but given his propensity to go delving under dark for weeks at a time, him and his prefer to carve Abby up close and personal. Only exception to the rule is their team Sharpshooter and Controller, Caitlin Ballybrie. Even then, I hear the stout Scottish import can outbox most Rangers on any given day, though I’m of the opinion that most let her win on account of having to face Wolfgang if they win, the Corridor Companion’s hulking seven-foot Prussian brawler who carries around a giant battle hammer as part of his kit.
And they’re the normal ones out of their group of five, which really says something about the last two nutjobs.
Me and Uncle Teddy chit chat a bit more about options and Rangers who might be a good fit, mostly to keep our minds off the crisis unfolding around us. It’s a ray of hope in an otherwise dark and dismal night, one we both cling to because we need that to get through today. It’ll still be weeks before they’re ready to take on the Proggie, weeks of much needed training and preparation. Not just learning how to fight and sling Spells underwater, but how to communicate without Illusions since those can be ‘overheard’ by Abby, and how to use all the gadgets and gizmos the Ranger Artificers are no doubt hard at work producing and fine tuning even as we speak. Mariner’s armour, anti-Enchantment medallions, rings of Spell Storing in place of boot sole inserts, and more, there’s an endless list of things we could use or ideally would have before launching an underwater attack.
Which means it’ll be some time yet before the Mindspire is taken care of, but it’s only a matter of time before the Proggie is finally uprooted from the lake, removing the one and only blemish on my daddy’s record in fourteen long years of loyal service.
Doing my best to stay upbeat and avoid thinking about how they done my daddy wrong, I say, “Well, if you need an extra Scout, you know where I’ll be.” Here sitting in town twiddling the one thumb, because I done upset the Mafia and don’t no one want me running around on my own.
“I think Drex has it covered,” Uncle Teddy retorts, patting my shoulder to show he understands. “If not, we’ll have plenty of Rangers to pick up the slack. No shortage of them here in New Hope.” Unlike how it was back in Pleasant Dunes, where I was an option of last resort. Besides, from everything I heard about the man, Drex might take issue with having a rookie like me on board with the plan. Don’t matter if I’m only one of twenty, thirty, or even forty Rangers and in a minor support role, as he only works with the best of the best of the best.
And Howie Zhu is far from it. Cream of the new crop maybe, but green is green all the same.
“Besides,” Uncle Teddy continues, giving me a firm couple pats on the back. “I’d say you’ve done more than enough.” All I got for him on that account is a blank stare, as I’ve no idea what he’s talking about, and he seems taken aback by my surprise. “You might not have been the one to find the Progenitor under Last Chance Lake,” he explains, all proud smiles and warm approval, “But you showed us where to look.”
“Asked around is all,” I say with a shrug. “Anyone could’ve done it.” Was Carter who done all the leg work, or fin work I suppose, and I just passed the message along.
“Anyone could have,” Uncle Teddy agrees, with that tone that says he ain’t actually in agreeance. “Was you that did it though, and your information which led us to the Progenitor and Mindspire both. Even Quartermaster Lacey sees it that way, so he’ll have a check for you to pick up soon enough. Take the win, son, and know that your father would be proud.”
Words I’d normally glow to hear, but they ring hollow in the here and now. Don’t feel like I done anything to deserve it, nothing besides pass a single map along, and I can’t muster up much of an effort to play along. Hate to bring down Uncle Teddy’s mood like this, because I can tell he needs the win as much as I do, because the whole reason the Proggie unleashed Madness in the first place was probably to drive the Strike Team away. He don’t blame me though, just sits with me a little longer before saying, “You’re so much like him, you know?”
Which is a different tune from what he was singing before, a sentiment he reads right off my face. “In temperament, if not ability just yet,” Uncle Teddy clarifies, adding in that extra bit to say he ain’t given up on me. That’s good to know, because he ain’t asked why I ain’t signed on to Basic, since we both know why. I wouldn’t make the cut, simple as that. Need two hands to soldier, simple is as simple does, and not even the Marshal can make an exception for me there. Pushing past the difficult subject, he gets that look in his grey eyes when he’s looking back in time, reminiscing of days past when things were simpler, if not easier. “He paid no mind to his accomplishments, and was always fixated on what there was still yet to do. That’s why he was always out and about on the road, because he knew how much good he could do out there, how many lives he could change and people he could save.”
“Duty and obligation above all else,” I say, resisting the urge to scowl at what all his hard work and dedication got him.
“You’re the same way,” Uncle Teddy says, which throws me for a loop, and he chuckles to see it. “You never noticed? Anything you do, you give a hundred and ten percent, and then blame yourself for not doing more. You saved lives tonight, helped a good number of people, and you’ve helped even more by guiding us towards the Progenitor’s lair. Eighteen years it’s remained hidden in the lake, undetected by the greatest Scouts this side of the Divide, your father included, and in a few short weeks, it will be dead and gone because of what you’ve done.” Patting my head, Uncle Teddy says, “You’re making your own marks on the Frontier now, and though you must embark upon a path neither of us much like, know that I am proud of you, son.”
“Thanks Uncle Teddy,” I say, giving him the best smile I got, one that’s half genuine even, and all I can muster under the circumstances. “Means a lot to hear it.”
“Another week, maybe two,” Uncle Teddy says, changing the subject after a long moment of silence. “Then maybe you can get back to work, because by then we’ll have confirmation if the Mafia put a hit out on you. I doubt they will though. Ignazio Pugliano is content with his lot in life and won’t do anything to jeopardize what he has. He understands his place in the grand scheme of things, knows that his continued existence depends on being a small enough nuisance to make dislodging him more trouble than it’s worth.”
Puts me in mind of what Carter said, how it’s easier to pay the Mafia off than it is to fight them, which makes a whole lot more sense now that I know how the Government sees all this. Man’s been hung out to dry more or less, alongside all the other small communities and people suffering under the Mafia’s thumb, so I can’t blame Carter for erring on the side of caution and fearing for the lives of his loved ones. Still burns me to leave Michael be, because the man’s a leech, him and his whole organization, so I say burn ‘em out and salt their graves, simple as that. Criminal organizations are able to rule by fear because the American Government has proven themselves ineffective at combating them, so maybe it’s high time we changed the rules so they work here on the Frontier.
That said, I got no complaints about it, not this time around, a change Uncle Teddy notes with a raised eyebrow. “I get it,” I say with another shrug. “You’re worried for my safety, so I’ll sit tight and do as you say. Doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s silly I have to live in fear of criminal reprisal instead of doin’ somethin’ about them, but it is what it is.”
Uncle Teddy takes a good long second to study me closely, no doubt to ascertain why I done a quick 180 on the subject, or at least stopped complaining about it every time it’s brought up. He looks me in the eyes, then down at the pocket square he done folded for me, then back up at me with a sad smile. “Ah,” he says, in a tone I’d call smug on anyone else, but the Marshal don’t do smug. Certain sure, confident yes, but never smug. “I see. HZ and JR. You and Josie?”
I nod even as my cheeks colour, for more reasons than one. “Recent thing, just happened these last few weeks.” Glancing up at the sky, I heave a sigh and say, “Might be done and dusted though, seeing how I let her down tonight.”
“I don’t think she’s the type to blame you for things outside your control,” Uncle Teddy says, which is reassuring because it’s true. “Still, if she does, then know that it just wasn’t meant to be.” A pause, while he lets me digest that tidbit, then, “You care about her?”
“Very much so.”
“So seeing what happened to the Ramirez’s must have shook you something fierce.”
I don’t deny it, because I’m still reeling from it and can’t make heads or tails of what I think. “It was the Madness,” I say, just to be clear, because I know there are rules about who gets to be buried on Consecrated ground, and suicide is a sure way to get yourself 86’ed. “It made him do something horrible, so terrible he couldn’t bear it. Real Romeo and Juliet type stuff, you know?” Uncle Teddy doesn’t say anything, so I keep talking to fill the silence. “But then they were both gone, leaving Noora and Josie all alone, and… I dunno. I just thought… it’d be better if he fought on you know? Kept struggling against the Madness instead of giving in.”
Because that’s what happened, no two ways about it. Man didn’t kill himself. The Madness made him do it, full stop.
“A hard thing to watch happen,” Uncle Teddy says, and there’s something in his tone that tells me he’s speaking from experience. “Love drives us to great heights, but the higher you climb, the harder the fall.” Looking at me like he can see right through me, he adds, “And now you’re conflicted, because much as you understand the sentiment, you’ve also seen the pain his death has caused, so now, for the first time ever, you’re worried about what you’ll be leaving behind once you go off on your hare-brained scheme of a revenge plan you know you have no chance of coming back from.”
Well… this is awkward. Much as I want to play dumb and pretend like I don’t know what he getting at, I think he deserves more honesty than that. “Guess I wasn’t being sneaky as I thought I was,” I say, by way of admitting he’s right. “But it’s not like I got no chance.”
“Oh? And what odds did you give yourself? I might have to see the math on that one.”
“50/50. I either make it back alive, or I don’t, one or the other.”
Uncle Teddy laughs, then cuts himself off sharply, because he doesn’t want to encourage that sort of risk-taking behaviour. Soon as he got things back under control, he pulls me in close for a one-armed hug. “I’m glad to see you’re maturing, son.”
“Never said I gave up on it all,” I say, if only to be contrary.
“I know.” Still smiling his sad smile, Uncle Teddy says, “But at least you’re considering the consequences now. Maybe because you’ve got more to lose than ever?” Adjusting my pocket square ever so slightly, Uncle Teddy says, “Ah… to be young and in love again.” He gets real quiet after that, and I know he’s thinking about his lady love, someone he’s never talked about to anyone far as I know. Wasn’t a love here on the Frontier, but back in the Old World, a wife he lost or left behind judging by how he sometimes reaches for a wedding band that ain’t there no more. Don’t think many people even know about it, and I only do because my daddy pointed it out when I asked why Uncle Teddy don’t marry Miss Dawson so we can get free sweets and ice cream.
“I won’t tell you to give up on your plans,” Uncle Teddy says, some long minutes later. “Won’t do anything to stop you either. Couldn’t even if I wanted to, because you’d find a way out. Either way, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. All I’ll say is this. You got a family who loves you Howie, and we would all much rather have you around than mourn your loss once a year on the anniversary of your death.”
Takes more strength to stick it out than it does to throw it all away. Mr. Ramirez showed me that tonight, a lesson I won’t soon forget, though I still ain’t decided about what I’m gonna do about my daddy’s killer. Either way, I got a lot to think about, and the hour’s grown late, so I stand up and stop monopolizing all of the Marshal’s time. “Food for thought,” I say, which is the best answer I can give, and he nods in acceptance, if not understanding. “Thanks for the pep talk, Uncle Teddy.”
“My pleasure, son. One more thing.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out one of them velvet boxes, like what you’d carry a pendant or ring in. “Was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I’m thinking our lesson will have to be delayed.” Because there are gonna be a whole lot of funerals to attend, and a whole lot of work to do. “Open it.”
I do, and find two collar pins inside, stylized bronze triangles meant to denote me as a proper Magus. “Oh wow,” I say, taking a second to let the moment sink it, because this has been a real roller coaster of emotions. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says, standing up so he can put the pins in himself. “You earned it. Three Third Order Spells, that’s the requirement, and you qualified for it a few days back. Your certification is in the mail, signed, sealed, and notarized, making you an official Magus in the eyes of the United Federation of American States.” Stepping back for a look, he looks me up and down as I snap to attention, and we share a smile that is bittersweet because this ain’t how either one of us saw this going down. We both figured it for some big military event where he’d pin them on my collar in front of the troops, to show how I would literally lead the next generation in taming the wild Frontier. Man proposes and Heaven disposes though, that’s how it is, so we celebrate this for what it is while mourning what it could have been.
“At ease,” he whispers, and I comply as he steps forward again to remove them. “Better off keeping this under wraps for now,” he adds, which is exactly how I figure it. “Especially since you aren’t legally allowed to prepare one of your three Third Order Spells.”
“Should’ve waited to commission the collar pins along with the breast pins,” I say with a smile, referring to the pins that represent the various schools of Magic. “Could’ve gotten a discount ordering four at once.”
“I bought the full set in bronze,” Uncle Teddy replies, catching me off guard. “It’s only three Spells a School, or twenty-one Third Order Spells total, so I expect you to qualify for all seven pins before the Watershed.” Which shows he’s got high expectations for me, but he ain’t done yet. “Soon as I find time to make up for tomorrow’s lesson, we’ll talk about your future direction. You know as well as I do that knowing and prepping the Spell Structure isn’t enough, so you’ll want to start focusing your efforts on familiarizing yourself with one Third Order Spell to start. Think on which one you’d prefer, and come up with a few backups too.”
“Won’t be Mental Fortress, I’ll say that much.” Cracking a smile, I gesture at the Church and say, “Pretty sure Chrissy thinks I’m a lost cause, but she still trying to show me how it’s done, bless her heart.”
“The curse of genius,” Uncle Teddy says with a smile, patting my cheek before sending me on my way. With a lot to think about, because now I see how selfish it would’ve been to ride off into the sunset one day without letting Aunty Ray and everyone else know what I was up to. That was gonna be the plan, because if I somehow made it out alive and the Qin Republic pressed the issue, everyone could then truthfully claim ignorance regarding my deeds. Might’ve ended with me branded as an international criminal, executed by the Qin, or worse, but I figured I’d burn that bridge when I get there.
Now? Now I ain’t so sure. I still want the man who ordered my daddy’s death to pay, but I also got a lot more to lose than I thought I did. Easy enough to lay it all on the line when you’re all there is, but now I know it ain’t so simple, so I suppose it’s high time I stopped to consider my future. On the surface, it don’t look like much has changed, because I still want to get back into fighting form, except I’m not so sure why anymore.
Can’t be the Firstborn. Gave up on the Yellow Devil. Being an avenger or vigilante don’t seem like the right choice either anymore, so what’s in the cards for old Howie? No idea just yet, but here’s hoping it’s something good.
