Break Free & Be Broken (28 page)

No such ghouls appear.

The sight that greets him when he tops the stairs is extraordinary. The level is completely open, with floor to ceiling windows all around, giving a full view of the majestic woods outside. Inside, there are numerous statues of proud, gallant people in various poses of action. The way they are placed around the room compliments both them and the image they stand against outside. As he looks around, he's vaguely aware that the whole thing depicts some kind of story, but his thinking has become too dulled to sort out what it might be.

What does it matter, anyway?

All he really sees are the stairs on the opposite side of the room. He locks his eyes on them, and then, wobbling as if drunk, makes his way over. When he reaches them, he sees it's more than just mere stairs. It's a grand staircase: a wide, luxuriously carpeted passage to the final floor-the place Juxtapo is no doubt waiting. The end is nigh.

It's a beautiful thing.

Sage clutches at his bleeding side. His wounded shoulder sags. Neither one is feeling good, which could be a problem... but there isn't much more to go. Sage hardens himself. He'll hurt some other time. Right now, there's shit to be done. He starts up the stairs. The climb is more difficult than it should be.

There's a large, gold gilded wooden door at the top. Expertly carved into the face is a scene depicting a pair of wolves battling with a bear. Sage grudgingly tips his hat to Juxtapo. The man may be vile... his taste in art is not.

Sage reaches the door and pulls. It's slow in opening. He hopes that such is a testament to the mass of the door, not the depleted state of his body. He slides inside with gun raised. The room he enters is strange. It's large-that's the first thing that sticks out-but mainly because it’s all black and there is almost nothing in it: just a skinny, mattressless cot and a small nightstand holding nothing but an old fashioned alarm clock.

Three edges of the room, including the one at Sage’s back, are solid, but the one opposite him is floor to ceiling glass like downstairs. He can't help but notice the brightly colored clouds outside. He also notices that the wall on his right ends short of the window, dividing the floor in half.

Sage slithers up to the edge of the wall, straining to hear what is going on where he cannot see.

"Enough lurking, boyo. Come on in. Let's have a look atcha."

Sage heeds the words and moves around the corner. The sight that greets him is as breathtaking as it is unexpected. What takes his breath is the beauty of the room. The walls and ceiling are painted in a way that somehow matches the sky outside without being painted in imitation of it. There are gold pots holding rare plants in each corner of the room, as well as flowers hanging randomly throughout, giving the space a heavenly aroma. The marble tile on the floor is run through with thick veins of gold, which brilliantly reflect the warm light coming in from outside. Add in the morning clouds and exquisite trees showing in from the windows, and you’re left with an otherworldly effect.

After seeing the rest of the place, such elegance was to be expected. What Sage didn't expect was to find Juxtapo lounging in an opulent bath carved directly into the floor. All the chaos going on around him, and this man chose to bathe. Sage can't make sense of it. Perhaps, after being hunted for so long, Jux has become as tired as Sage. Perhaps he, too, is ready for this to end.

Or perhaps he's just fucking arrogant, and placed too much faith in the abilities of his men. No matter the reason, he's going to die.

Juxtapo stares at Sage with venom in his eyes. "Are you the fuckin ghost that haunts?” He asks.

"I am." Sage answers.

Juxtapo Schultz takes his feet. Water clings greedily to his exceptionally honed physique as he rises. He's the absolute picture of raw human power: a man who posses’ the strength of Hercules and the shape of Adonis. He's a truly spectacular being. A being that must be put down.

"Why have you been doing it, UH!? Why have you-"

"Hss! No more questions."

Sage fires the first shot, just because he had to, straight into the base of Jux's penis, dislodging it perfectly from his frame. It and a testicle plop into the tub like a meatball and salami, followed immediately by a shower of blood and piss. The other ball clings by a thread to something on Juxtapo's insides, only partially covered by his drooping scrotum.

For half a second, Sage considers throwing out more shots intended to wound and cause pain, but no... his heart's not into it. The second bullet he unleashes tears through Juxtapo's brain, ending him in a glorious flash of red that travels from the edge of the tub to the previously spotless wall.

The second bullet is not the last to fly. Sage knows that Jux is dead: now it's time for fun. He divides Jux's face with bullet after bullet, quickly transforming the usual to the absurd. Blood and bone splatter against the floor and walls. Sage doesn't let up until his gun clicks empty and Juxtapo's face looks like it was dug out with an ice cream scooper. There's nothing left of his head but an empty shell clutching greedily to some fragments of skull, torn skin, and hair.

Sage lets his machine gun fall from his hands. Dark, humorless laughter falls from his lips.

Good fucking riddance
.

He walks to the sliding door in the glass and exits onto the porch. The sun may be rising behind him, but it has lent its light to the clouds up ahead, illuminating them in a glorious gold. He stares out at the sight, focusing more on the patches of clear blue sky-the patches that stretch out into eternity. He turns his eyes directly overhead. Good. Much more blue up there. Out and beyond is where everything's happening. He doesn't want his soul to get blocked by clouds. He's got to get off this rock.

He moves to the railing and stares down at the ground. Hm. Not as high as he hoped. Sage is a tough dude and that's all there is to it. A fall of merely twenty or so feet may not be enough. Even if he dived he could probably survive. This is going to take a bit more effort than that.

Fortunately, the solution is strapped to his side. With one fluid, balanced motion, he leaps up onto the railing and draws his sidearm. He spins delicately once in place, turning his body so his back is toward the ground and his face is toward the sun. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth drive into his being. "A grand morning," he proclaims, though the tears streaming down his cheeks and off his chin are indication he may not believe his own words.

He lifts his pistol slowly, positioning it so that the barrel is pressed directly over his heart. His thumb glides onto the trigger.

The smile death left etched on Chales' face comes springing into his mind. He can't help but chuckle at the memory. Chales... now there was a lost boy; though it certainly looked like he found what he sought in the end. He hopes that death was as kind to Jade.

Let it pulverize me.

The thought of his darling love brings a lump to his throat. He closes his eyes and immerses himself in her memory.

Lost in Jade’s eidolon embrace, Sage takes one last peek at the sky. She’s out there, somewhere, and even if it takes a million lifetimes, he will find her again, and when he does, he won’t let go.

"It's been real "

His thumb twitches. That same moment, his chest explodes, and then...

Well... then, of course....

He falls.

END

Author

Eros Winter thanks you for reading his novel.

Contact: [email protected]

Bonus

This is the tale of a snail so strange who lived in the belly of a toad; a hundred years old was this fellow’s ripe age when that belly said, “Time to explode!”

Up in the air, our hero was flung, and then he came down like the rain; snails don’t fly, they slide on the ground, I know that you know I’m just sayin.

Our boy, he fell down, hit the earth with a splat, our boy, he’s okay, his sweet shell saw to that. But wait! His home! It’s gone! What to do! He wasn’t expecting bad luck to roll through.

And look at the sky-it is dark, full, and gray! This kind of sight fills the heart with dismay. The wonderful sun is blocked to a ray, so maybe our hero is not quite okay.

Then just as the darkness took claim of his heart, he remembered that quitting is not how to start, so he packed up his shell with the scraps of his home and bundled up tight our boy started to roam.

He saw the horizon, the mountains and sky, took one last look back with a tear in his eye. He’s going to make it. He’s going to try... The snail so strange... he just might get by.