Fearing the Living, Welcome Death
Fearing the Living, Welcome Death
Clara stormed out of the Wal-Mart doors without her objects. She ripped open her car door to grab 75 cents that the cashier couldn’t have spared her so she wouldn’t have to go through the horrendously long lines again. Today wasn’t her day. She just drove an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the store to buy a notebook, a couple groceries, and a few other important objects. She drove straight home from school which is normally 50 minutes from her house in a smaller town, compared to the town her college was located. She stopped by home to pick up her cash that she forgot to bring with her that day. That was one of the reason’s her day wasn’t going as planned. There were some stores where she could have got her things for cheaper if she wouldn’t have forgot her cash at home. And she was still mad that she failed her math quiz and test. She got good grades on her homework, but with the homework she could check the examples of what her answer was supposed to look like, and in the quizzes and tests, you could not. There were so many different ways they wanted you to solve the question. Math was not her thing. She hated it, she absolutely hated it.
Clara found 20 cents on the floor of her car. But before she could think another thought, she heard the screaming of many people. Clara ducked out of her car and looked at her surroundings. People, everyone from the store was running out of the building, tramping on people to get out of the doors. “What the heck??” she said to herself, raising an eyebrow. A guy ran her way to his SUV parked across the shopping cart choral. Before Clara could ask questions he jumped into his SUV, started it and sped off, not caring who was in front of him or behind him. He almost ran over a teenager, who was now yelling profanities at him.
A woman and her two kids ran to the small white car parked on the passenger side of Clara’s car. Clara sought out her chance to see what was going on. “What’s going on?” Clara asked, turning her head to the loud sound of cars colliding in row six, a couple lanes from where she was parked.
“Run!” she said, “Get out of here!! There is a crazy man!!” she exclaimed. She said nothing more. She threw herself into her car, started it and sped away, her kids scared and screaming for their lives in the backseat. Clara could feel the fear in her heart. Her adrenalin she could feel rushing. Her heart started pounding quicker and quicker. The parking lot was a mess, cars were lodged into each other, and now people were just running, they were running from the building. Was it set to blow? She wondered, is there a gun man inside? And if everyone is running… maybe they wouldn’t suspect I would be hiding in my car while everyone else has run away…
Clara ducked back into her car when someone behind her spooked her, “Boo.” He said. And he just said it; he didn’t exclaim boo, he just said it.
Clara turned around. She raised an eyebrow, “Hi?” she said. She then saw the rather large gun he was holding. Her eyes widened. She looked back to the man holding it. His eyes were a light blue, and his hair was dark frown with loose curls. He was wearing a long black leather trench coat and black leather gloves.
“Yes, you see my gun. Rather large isn’t it?” he said, his voice calm, not even a worry as sirens were the only sound in the air now. “It makes a bigger boom and tends to frighten people.” He had an accent, maybe English? Scottish? She wasn’t quite sure.
Clara gulped. “That is a really big gun…” she said.
Another man walked up to the man holding the bigger gun, said something and then gave Clara a death glare.
“Good, chase out anyone else you can find. Kill them.” He ordered.
The other man ran to finish his duty, killing an elderly couple parked in a blue van in the handicapped space. The guy with the big gun was now focused back on Clara. “Aren’t you going to run?” he asked as he powered up his gun, a gun she had never seen before, one that sounded like the flash of a camera as it charged up.
“Haha, no, you’re just going to shoot me anyway. So what are you waiting for?” she asked but not in a taunting way as she looked into the eyes of her soon-to-be-killer.
“You do not fear dying?” he asked, his accent strong, from where ever he was from.
“What’s to fear?”
The man pointed his gun right at her. She didn’t close her eyes, she didn’t even look away. She watched this man. She noticed that he had not fired yet.
“You do not even know who I am, do you?” he asked.
“No?” she raised her eyebrow. Should she?
“Does the name, Artair Watson strike fear into your heart?” he asked.
Clara raised both eyebrows, her eyes widened. “You’re the terrorist of the nations!” this man was originally from Scotland, he was born there and lived there most of his live, he had studied abroad for a few years, but he spent most of his time in his homeland. Until one day he meet the wrong people, or rather the right people for him. He worked for them, learned their ways and overthrew them. He quickly became the most wanted man on earth. He had killed millions; he had bombed many nations and big states. No one could ever catch him. Hardly anyone had seen him.
“Ah, so you do know who I am.”
“I guess.” She said. She didn’t really know him, she only knew what the news said about him.
“So now you know how dangerous I am. Are you afraid?” he asked again.
“Uh… no. Kill me.” She said. “I know where I’m going when I die.”
Artair lowered his gun. “Not even fear in your eyes. You must have some reason for not being afraid.” The man grabbed her by her wrist; his hands that were covered with black leather gloves. He yanked her away with him. “What are you doing?!” Clara exclaimed.
He didn’t answer, he just kept dragging her along with him into the front of the store. A black SUV was parked in front of the store. There were large guns in the hood and on the roof of the car. There was one man sitting in the driver’s seat, from what she could see. Artair stood in front of the side doors. “Open the door!” he ordered.
A man, also wearing black and dark glasses with an ear piece opened the door. Artair threw Clara inside. He then shut the door and walked off, holding his large gun with both of his hands. He went on leading his men in his pursuit.
She saw the military arrive, that was the time they left. The town sirens went off, but it was to no good. They were heading out of town and all she could see was a bright flash and then a large cloud of smoke. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. She never used the good Lord’s name in vein like that, but she meant it. What just happened? In a place she would have never expected. Why here? Why near home? “Oh my God…” she repeated.
“Hey, shut up!” one of the men said, also having the same accent as the man who took her away. Why did he spare her? Why?
“What do you want with me?!”
They didn’t answer.
“Where are you taking me?!” she asked, knowing, obviously they weren’t going to tell her.
They kept quiet.
“Let me out of here!! I’m no use to you! If you want to know something about my country, you have the wrong person!! Believe me, I failed history!!”
The guy in the seat beside her on the other side of the machinery holding the gun up in the middle of them pointed a gun at her. “You are no use to us.” He said.
Clara looked at the gun, frowned, then looked back up to the man.
“But Watson wants you alive. For some reason.” He said, then sitting back in his seat and kept an eye out the window.
They had a long ride. She wasn’t sure where they were going; they picked up another man on the way. He had some maps in his hands. They took country roads. At one point they put her out rather forcefully, by pistol-whip. They must have been getting close to a rendezvous point.
The car stopped. Clara was still out. A couple of men carried her into a bedroom of some house they had taken over. To keep hidden, the large trucks and SUVs with guns parked in the barn. All of the big guns were kept close by in the garage.
Clara awoke. Her head hurt and all the past events came flooding to her mind all in one instant, making her heart beat a mile a minute. She lay back down. This room was obviously not familiar. But at least it was a house and not some torture chamber.
Clara got back up and stood to her feet, feeling a little dizzy. She walked to the bedroom door and slowly and quietly twisted the knob. She opened the door quietly, and found no one outside the room guarding it. It was a bit of a surprise, but then, why would they need to guard the door of someone who was harmless to them?
Clara walked down the tunnel stair way, trying to keep her weight off the stairs by putting some of her weight on the wall and the railing. She heard voices downstairs. She peaked her head out of the stair way. Beside the tunnel stairs was a hallway that went to the bathroom and beside that in a bigger room was a group of people standing around a table. On her other side was another room that led to the kitchen.
Clara came out of the stair way. The room became quiet. The men cleared from the table where the man that kidnapped her sat with a map on the desk. He was wearing glasses, but took them off once she entered the room.
“I see you have awakened, dear, but I am not ready to speak with you yet. Neil, Ross, take her back to her quarters.” He said slipping his glasses back on and glancing back at his map. The other men gathered back around the table most likely planning their next attack.
Neil and Ross walked her way; one of them grabbed her arm. Clara yanked her arm away. “I don’t need your assistance.” She said, walking back up the stairs herself. It was a rather brave move of her to say something like that; she forgot for a second what position she was in. It would be wise not to stir the bees’ nest.
She shut the door behind her and then leaned against it. How long where they going to be? What was the point of keeping her alive? Clara walked to the northern window, holding one arm behind her back with her other. It was another cold day. She could feel the draft through the old wooden framed window. The trees in the surrounding area were mostly barren. The yard was littered with leaves, and all you could see for miles were corn fields, trees, and a few houses, about a few miles apart from each other, enough to give them a blue hue through the atmosphere.
There was some rustling on the other side of the door, someone was about to enter. Clara’s heart started pounding again. She turned around, her back facing the window, her arms at her side. She was just waiting to see who it was on the other side of the door.
The door opened, he, Artair walked in, shutting the door behind him. Clara swallowed nervously.
“Now don’t tell me you’re chickening out now. I thought you were fearless.”
“I said I don’t fear death.” She replied, swallowing again.
Artair walked across the room, standing a foot in front of Clara, he crossed his arms and gave her a once over. She also noticed something about him. His right ear was half severed and scared. And his cheek also had a scar on it, though it wasn’t too visible unless you were looking for it.
Clara raised an eyebrow. “So, you have spared me? Why is that? I am no one special. I don’t know anything about this country that you don’t already know. You might even know more than I do. I don’t know anything.”
“Proving yourself worthless to me might not be a good idea. At this point, I won’t just kill you.” He said, and that is what stuck fear into her heart. Artair smiled, and then started pacing the room, holding his arms behind his back. “Ah-ha! So it is not death that you are afraid of, it’s what the living world can do to you. Pain is your fear.”
Clara shuttered. Who knew what this guy could do. He was a ruthless killer. She saw him shooting at kids and killing babies today. Who could just do that? “What person isn’t afraid of the crazy things people can do to each other? Even you fear something.”
Artair stopped walking, closed his eyes for a second and a smile slowly spread across his face. He walked up to Clara, face to face and moved her hair behind her ear and laughed lowly. He could feel her heart pounding; he could see she was red in the face from fear. He ran his index finger down her cheek. His back leather gloves from his warm hands inside. But by touching her, it only scared her more. “Not wise to call me afraid.” He said, his accent strong, low, and threatening.
“Maybe not.” She said. “But… you are, aren’t you? You are human… aren’t you???”
“I fear nothing.”
Only a fool’s reply. She thought.
Artair went back to pacing the room. He still hadn’t answered her question to why he napped her, and for what his reason was. What would a terrorist want with her? Of all people. The only thing she knew was that he thought she was fearless somehow. She wasn’t, she wasn’t afraid of death, but she was afraid of everything else. But maybe it was not fearing death. But still, what good was that? Did he want to make her a soldier?
Clara took in a deep breath. “If it’s nothing about my country you want to know, why is it you have taken me from home?”
Artair spun around on his heal, his arms resting behind his back. He walked by Clara again, stopped then spoke, “You remind me of someone.” He said, his accent soft this time.
Now that the question was answered, she wanted to know why he blew up that town, a town only 15 minutes from her own, one that no doubly killed her… her… sister. And maybe her father, and maybe her brother. “Sarina…” she said, instantly feeling weak to her knees and a flood of tears making their way to the carpet.
“What?” Artair turned around, Clara’s crying quickly became out of control. She started to heave for air, but she coughed a low growl from the bottom of her throat. Now he realized, he didn’t need to ask. He more than likely killed someone she loved, someone she was close to.
Artair left the room. He let her have her alone time. He went downstairs with his men, just settling down for the night. He could hear her from downstairs. The house, even with all those men, and a few women and it was still so silent. Like a moment of silence when they remembered what they were doing. They had killed so many people that they forgot how much it could hurt a solitary person. They had grown numb to the feeling until now. Like the sounds of a lost fawn calling out for its loved one, she kept calling and calling. She knew no one was going to answer.
For the last twenty minutes she cried on and off. A few people left the house because they couldn’t stand to hear her painful cries. After those twenty minutes it was completely quiet. And after about ten minutes, Artair went back up stairs. He quietly opened the door to see if Clara was alright. She covered herself in the blankets on the bed. When she heard a creek in the floor, she took the blanket off her head.
Artair flicked on the light. He could see her eyes were red, sore from crying so hard and so long. She looked at him with hate. It was his fault that this happened. In a town where she always thought she would be safe from all the warfare, just because the size of it. You would think he would attack New York or a place like Chicago, but never in a small town of which no one had heard.
“Please kill me.” She said.
Artair closed his eyes, sighed, and took a seat at the foot of her bed. “I will not.” He said.
“I will never cooperate with you!! Just kill me!! Kill me!!!” she exclaimed.
Artair rubbed his face and got up. “No.” he left the room again. He’d best give her time or she wasn’t going to cooperate. She would have to eventually.
-----
The night had passed. Early in the morning, around 4:30, 5 Clara woke to the sounds of vehicles starting. They were getting ready for another attack, no doubt. Not too much longer and a man with a gun strapped around his torso came for her. He ripped her right out of bed and practically dragged her downstairs. She was tossed into another SUV, she was sure it was the same one as before. The man in the driver’s seat was even the same. Though, it was a different guy in the seat beside hers. All the vehicles vacated the area.
Today was the same as the last, there was more killing. Another town was completely destroyed, and all the towns within a close radius were also burnt to a crisp. And again they returned to a house, a different one this time, still some place in the country. It was the same drill as before. Clara was directed a room to stay in. She stayed in there. A time or two she had to take a bathroom break. Someone was assigned to stay outside the door, which made it hard for her.
It was 8pm; her stomach was ripping at her. She hadn’t had anything since the day she was captured. Clara snuck downstairs. There weren’t as many people in the house, some of them were still outside with the equipment, some were in the living room with their hi-tech laptops, and the rest were still out fighting with Artair.
Clara walked into the kitchen and found a pot. She filled it with water and set it on the stove. She then searched for the pantry; someone at least had to have some noodles or something. And there it was, there were some noodles. She also found some tuna and cream of mushroom soup. It looked like the people who previously lived here just went shopping. Clara grabbed two tuna cans, and two mushroom cans and made her way back into the kitchen. She set the items on the counter and found a strainer and a can opener. She then snuck back upstairs to wait for the water to boil in the mean time. She heard the guys go in and out of the room by the kitchen down there, but no one must have noticed what she was doing. She once again slipped downstairs to put in the noodles. She had to stay downstairs for this part. She sat on the floor, hidden by the counters.
The noodles were done, she had preheated the oven. Once she mixed all the ingredients in the pot, she found a glass dish and dumped the noodles into it and set it in the oven. She then set a time, 10 minutes. She never really knew how long to cook it in the oven, so she usually watched it.
The beeping of the oven caught someone’s ear. One of the men ran into the kitchen. “What are you doing?!” he yelled, a couple other men entered the room, a lady working with one of them pushed through them.
“Making supper.” She replied.
“Move aside,” the lady said, opening the oven. What Clara said checked out. The men were still not happy that she snuck downstairs without their knowing.
“You’re in big trouble, girly, you don’t do anything without our permission. Turn that oven off! Go back upstairs!!” one of them demanded.
“Now wait a minute,” the lady said, “How many of you remember the last time you had a real supper? Huh? It looks like enough for all of us that are here for the moment. Let her finish.” She said.
“She probably poisoned it!” the other guy said.
“With what? Cyanide? Where is she going to get that?”
“Rat poison, this is a farm.” He said.
Clara shook her head. It would have been a good idea, if she wasn’t dying to eat.
“Fine, you think she’s poisoned it, she will have the first bite then. Leave her be, let her finish. Go back to what you were doing. I will stay guard.” She said. The other men weren’t happy about her idea, but they complied. They were hungry, and whatever Clara was cooking smelled good.
Clara checked the oven after it beeped. The creamy sauce was browned and sizzling. Clara found some oven mitts and used them to set the dish on the table. She took the first bite, piling a little more than a handful on to her plate. She started eating it rather quickly. She invited the others to have some; she really did make more than enough. The other’s took a bowl to their station and went back to work. Some ate at the table.
A little while later Artair and his group came in. They looked tired. Artair noticed Clara was downstairs, and that something had changed. It looked like the people who were previously here were happier? They seemed a little kinder to Clara. They let her walk freely with them downstairs as long as she stayed out of the living room where all the equipment was. Also, it smelled like food. The same lady as before was in the kitchen with Clara as they made an even bigger supper for the boys coming back from their battle.
Artair smiled for a second, but then quickly went about his business to discuss his new plans. Supper was ready and Artair was the first to sit down at the dinner table with all the men that could fit at the table. The house was happy and full. They must not do this often, Clara thought. Maybe they didn’t have the time? Maybe they didn’t have the right stuff to make what they wanted? They were of different cultures. She knew not every country had the same things in stock. Places in England don’t eat pumpkin as a desert like they did in America; they eat it as a squash. And that wasn’t the only thing; maybe something similar was going on here.
Clara left upstairs. The room that she was in must have previously been owned by a teenager. The room was full of wild colors and pictures of “hot actors”. There was a moon chair in front of a window. Clara sat down and looked out the window. She became depressed thinking about the people she lost, and the home she always knew. Her mom might still be out there. She didn’t know whether her brother or father were still alive, her sister was gone for sure. She was in school in the time of all the wreckage. Her sister was her closest friend. Which reminded her, her friends—they were all still alive. They were far enough from the explosion to where they wouldn’t be hurt, but their families were. All of them were doming and now they had no home to go home to. She wished she could call them up and talk to at least one of them.
The day was growing darker. For a little while Clara explored the upstairs and went through everything. She knew it was rude, but the owners weren’t coming back. In what was most likely the adults room she found a jewelry box. Something she couldn’t resist looking through. She loved shiny things. In one of the compartments was a ruby ring. Her favorite color. It had a big stone, and by the looks of it, it was real. Clara took it out and studied it closer. She wondered if it was her size.
“There you are!”
Clara dropped the ring, startled by Artair’s sudden presence. She picked it up.
“Snooping through the house are we?”
“Nope, just me, unless someone else is wondering around…” Clara thought she should say. “Sorta…” she answered. She put the ring back where it belonged. She was going to go back to her assigned quarters. She walked by Artair, he grabbed her arm on her way out. It gave her an unsuspecting shock.
“Thank you.” He said.
Clara turned around and raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Dinner. My team was excited to have real food. You know, we’ve been on the run so much. We don’t normally get to dine this nicely.” Artair let go of her arm.
“You don’t seem like a terrorist. Why are you killing everyone?” She asked. “And I still don’t understand why you have taken me away; you said I reminded you of someone.”
“Yes, my dear, I suppose I have time to explain. But first, what is your name? I have not had the chance to ask.”
“My name is Clara.” She replied.
“Ah, yes, Clara. A sweet name, like Kenna. She is the one you remind me of.” He said, his voice trailing off and his eyes looking through Clara.
“Is she a friend of yours? Your wife?” Clara noticed he was about 25-30 years old.
“A deiced friend. She and I were very close as children.” He said, in his Scottish accent. “She was the only one who understood me.” Artair rested his hands in his jacket and looked to the ceiling above Clara, “You see, I had this inner burning hate for everyone. It all started in my younger years. My father died when I was seven and my mother raised me by herself. She was very strict. She taught me to be a respectful man. When I was younger I did not understand. I was angry because I could not be as free as the other children. When I became older I loved my mom, and I was glad for being raised with respect. But in that time I had grown away from everyone else. Everyone was so worldly. They were numbing their minds with drugs and alcohol. They were extremely disobedient and constantly rude to everyone they spoke to. They thought it was a game, they thought it was a joke.” Artair crossed his arms behind his back and started pacing the room. “I could see the generations below me doing the same thing at a younger age. For me, this happened in high school, now kids as young as ten or even eight are acting like badly mannered adults. I hated them so much!”
Clara looked at Artair with understanding eyes. She wanted to hear more of his story.
“During high school I was friendless. I was hated because I chose not to be like everyone else. I was picked on because I was like no one else. Until fate happened. This girl a couple years younger than I, a girl that was in my science class. We were lab partners, and we both enjoyed science. It turned out we had a lot of the same history. As the years went by, the rest of high school and into college we kept in contact. I loved her all those years. I admitted my love many times and did not understand why she turned me down. I thought we were the same people, and if we were so alike, if we were so close and spoke intimately like we did that we should be together. We even attended the same university.” Artair stopped walking. His face maddened, hate filled his eyes. “One day her arms were wrapped around another man.” He shook his head and started pacing again. “Seeing her with another man infuriated me! After everything we went through! All the things we talked about! I knew everything about her! This student, studying abroad. This American! He had all the good looks and knew all the right things to say. He was the type of people we talked about. He was a fake. The typical guy to get the girl. I quickly became no one again. She spent more time with him, and less time with me. One day I decided to confront her, to tell her, to remind her of who we were and what type of guy this boyfriend of hers was. She insisted that she loved him. But she was only being blind. She was mad of what I told her. She started to leave. I stopped her. If I couldn’t have her, no one would. I shot her.” Artair frowned, his fists were tight, his blue eyes looking over Clara’s head. He could see this memory play back in his mind. Artair shook his head. “If only she would have opened her damn eyes! She went against everything we stood for!”
Clara arched her eyebrows, she could feel his pain. She knew what he was talking about. She had been through a similar tragedy. Though hers didn’t end the same. She gave up on the idea of love. Or so she said. She still thought about it, she still wanted it. But she was done looking. She didn’t have the time for someone at the time anyway. Not when she was so tied up with homework. She was a full time student with a part time job. She asked out so many guys that she thought she was in love with. She was mostly turned down. She had a boyfriend once, one like the girl Artair spoke of, but they didn’t last long. It hurt her to throw away all the good dreams they made with each other.
“So I decided,” Artair spoke again, Clara’s thoughts stopped to hear what more he had to say. “After seeing her body laying there. I was going to purge the world of liars. I know, I know, everyone has lied. But I mean the people who wear masks. Do you understand what I mean?”
“I believe I do.” Clara replied.
“The people who made my life hell. That’s where I started. At home. I killed a lot of people. The law caught up to me. And during my time in prison I found a man who used to work for a terrorist organization. He thought I hated my country so he told me who to contact. They broke me out. They trained me. I was the best of the best and soon I took over the group and made a new one, I call my people Wahre Gesicht, German for ‘True Face’. I am taking over all governments. On the way I took my opportunity to destroy the American’s home. The man who took my Kenna away from me. That’s where I found you. The reason I am taking over the governments… HA! Where do I begin? They are lying to us, for one!”
“Yeah. There has been a lot of suspicion about that.” Clara replied.
“People’s suspicions are right! Each day they get closer and closer to controlling its people. They were doing it in my country. It’s even worse here. You can't turn a corner without being in sight of some camera. Once I have control of the governments I will start a new government. I will teach everyone respect. Even if they have to learn it from the beginning. It will be the dawn of a new age, the old age, the proper age. And I will be the leader.”
Even as bad as it sounded, Clara could somewhat agree with him. Getting rid of the governments spying and controlling everyone was a great idea. It was none of their business what people chose to do. And secondly, re-teaching people the respect that everyone had lost… it sounded crazy, it probably wouldn’t work. But even if they taught kids respect in schools and taught them to respect their elders, that would be a start.
Artair noticed Clara was thinking about his plan. He studied her face. It didn’t look like she disagreed with him. And for that he was happy. Maybe there were more like her out there, maybe if more people knew what his reason was, maybe more people would join in his crusade.
“So, you like my idea?”
“Well… I understand your idea.” Clara replied.
“I can respect that.”
“So, that American that you hated so much… you are here because of that?”
“Normally I would be attacking bigger cities, if that’s what you’re asking. But yes, I am here. I am here to take everything he loves away from him so he can feel my pain. He is my arch rival, being in the military I do meet up with him a few times. We have our brawls. I cannot kill him though. He must live to feel pain.”
“Boy am I glad I’m not his enemy…” Clara thought.
Just then there was thumping up the stairs. “Sir,” one of the men announced, “We have to leave now. The military knows of our whereabouts. They have deciphered our code.”
Artair clenched his fist. “We must leave right away!! Get everyone moving—”
“Already on it, sir.”
“Good. I want Ross and Andrew with me, Clara you stay by my side. You leave with me.”
The man stood there for a second, awaiting an order.
“On the double! Let’s go!!”
Everyone thudded down the stairs and made their way out of the old country house. Artair was the third SUV in the line of weaponed vehicles. They made their way down the road. Clara was in the far back seat. Artair was driving, the map man was suggesting places they could hide at least until the military had lost them again. “Yes, we will go west on that road. Notify the lead driver.”
The other man got on the car radio and told the lead driver where to turn. They stayed on the road longer than expected. The military was on their tail and they hadn’t had time to figure up a new code yet. But they were working on it. They had to stop through a couple towns to gas up, killing innocent lives on the way to keep them quiet.
Soon they found another country road. Artair switched spots with Ross and Ross began to drive. Artair sat in the middle bucket seat and kept his eyes on the road. The night was filled with their voices directing everyone where to go. Eventually they found another country road and the car became quieter than it had been all night. It was about five in the morning. Clara had drifted off to sleep in the back seat of the SUV. Four o’clock was about her limit for staying up—especially because she was up so early the morning before. She missed her old sleeping schedule.
“I think we found a place to stay, Clara, I bet you’re exhausted…” Artair turned his head to look in the back seat of the SUV to find Clara already fast asleep with her head resting against the window. He kept his gaze—just watching her sleep peacefully. He smiled. Oh what it would be like if none of this mess happened. How he wished he could rest peacefully again, like her. The quarter moon was bright enough through the crisp cold sky to shine silver on her bronze colored hair. Gold, silver, iron, her hair was made of the prettiest colors. Her face looked soft and warm; her eye lids lay perfectly against her cheek.
Artair felt a feeling that had lain dormant in his heart for so long. And for so long he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But then he remembered. He felt love for this girl, even though he didn’t know everything about her. But from what he did know she was good and pure hearted and now he was sad that he brought her into his mess. But at the same time he was glad he saved her instead of killing her when he had the chance. There was so much more he wanted to learn from her. It was just the beginning of his knowledge, but he knew she felt the same pain he felt in his heart. But she could control it. He wished he knew how. He couldn’t save himself, but maybe she could.
The SUV slowed down. Artair’s thoughts were interrupted. He turned his head to see the bright red tail lights of the SUV in front of him. The SUV stopped. The line stopped. Artair leaned forward and put his hand on the passenger’s seat. “What’s going on? Radio the lead car. Why have they stopped?”
The man in the passenger seat radioed the first car. “They say there is a man standing in the middle of the road.” Andrew replied.
“What?! Tell them to shoot him and get a move on!” he said, his accent stronger when he was mad.
“Sir… its him they say. James Anderson.”
Artair was silent. He felt the surroundings of the SUV circle him. “Him. The American.”
“Sir, they just said there’s military tanks behind him. And… and…” more of the vehicles radioed in. “They say… they all say… we’re surrounded.” Artair instantly looked out the window. There were lights all around them, from above was a helicopter spot lighting them.
Clara woke up from the excitement. “What’s going on?” she asked. But she could see everyone’s fear. Even Artair. He looked back at her, she with her eyes still red from sleep, her hair messed up from laying on the window. Artair arched his eyebrows and looked into her eyes. “There is something I have to take care of.” He said. He then loaded a rather large run and slid open the SUV door.
“Sir!” Ross called out. “What are you doing?!”
“Taking care of something I should have finished years ago.” He said, getting out of the SUV and slamming the door shut behind him.
“No.” Clara said to herself. She knew this part all too well. He was going to get himself killed.
Ross and Andrew opened their windows and watched Artair march to the head of the line where James was waiting for him. He also had a gun. The men were so focused on what was about to happen.
“You finally show your ugly face.” James remarked.
Artair frowned, his trench coat flapped in the chilling wind as he made his way towards his enemy.
“I hear you were after my family, was it?” James asked. “Well, it’s a good thing I had them all protected. The only thing you did those days was kill innocent lives.”
Artair powered up his gun and aimed at James, he ran towards him in the process. James just stood there and fired three shots, shooting the gun out of Artair’s hands. The gun was useless now. Artair then pulled a hand gun from his side and shot still walking towards James. James shot back. Both of them ducked and dodged the bullets. Artair finally ran out of bullets and took his knife out of his right boot. He flung it at James; James stopped it before it went through his face by catching it between the claps of his hands.
“You’re done, Watson, you’re out of weapons, give up!”
Artair ran towards James, starting a physical fight.
“Oh, it’s a real fight you want?” James smiled. He threw down his gun. “Good, I’ve been waiting for this!!” James landed a hard punch to Artairs gut, causing him to take a couple steps back. Artair got James right back with a fist to the face, breaking James’ nose. There were a few blocks between the two but the hits and kicks they got in were intended to hurt and so they did.
They fought for a while. Both of them were at the ends of their strength. James spat blood from his mouth. “Give up, Watson, your no match for me. Even if you do win, the military has you surrounded. You lost before you even began!”
Artair yelled in anger throwing a punch powered by his adrenaline and hate.
“He’s going to get himself killed!” Clara yelled, feeling sympathy for Artair, he was misunderstood. He could be set right again. He didn’t have to die today.
Clara got to the doors and ripped them open, she ran to the front of the line where the fight was going on. The lights from the helicopter and SUV lit up everything. Both of them were a bloody mess.
James stopped fighting for a moment, he saw a girl running towards them.
“Stop it! Stop it!! No one has to die today!!” she exclaimed.
“Really, Artair, you had to bring a girl into this? Who is she, you’re new lover? What are you going to do, force your ideas on her like you did Kenna! That’s why she left you, you know! She always told me how much of a control freak you were. She said I was perfect for her. The first time we had sex it was because she wanted to hurt you. She was a virgin, you know. She said she was going to save it, but after you ruined the idea she said she wanted to make a new life. So I helped her break her new life in.” James laughed.
“AHH!!! You basterd!!!” Artair landed some hard punches on James who was laughing through it all. Artair knocked James to the ground. He was now too weak to fight, or even move. He had a mild concussion. But he still kept his eyes on Artair and laughed.
Clara ran up to Artair, who needed her support. He was breathing hard, access blood leaked from his mouth and sprayed when he exhaled. Clara helped him down. She hugged him. “You didn’t need to do this. He was only trying to piss you off. You should never give into him.” She said while holding his head. She kissed him on his forehead. “You are a beautiful man, you had good intentions at first, but you should have never let revenge into your heart. It is the quickest way to die.”
Artair coughed and spat the blood from his mouth. “I know, Clara. I am sorry I brought you into this. I am truly sorry for killing your family in the cross fire. Can you forgive me?” he asked. He looked into her soft blue-green eyes and lifted his hand to touch her face. He noticed his gloves were still on. On to hide his shame. He took his other hand and pulled the glove off to show his scared and burned hands. He touched her warm face. He knew it was over for him. He was going to live today, but this was the end of this life. James had won. He was right in saying Artair had lost before he started. He lost the day he killed his beloved.
“Say goodbye, Artair Watson, this is for Kenna!” James picked up the gun from the ground and fired.
“No!!” Clara yelled, blocking Artair. The bullet hit her in the stomach.
“Clara!!! NO!!!” Clara fell weak onto Artair’s chest. Artair got a second wind and held her in his arms. “Clara! I was done living my life! Why did you give up yours?”
“Because I can die knowing where I am going. I do not fear death because I have a relationship with Jesus Christ. He has a place saved for me. If you die today you would have a different fate. There is a God. All revenge is for him. And that is how I left it. I had a bad life on earth also, but knowing and loving God made it easier on me. That is why I would never kill a soul and why I would always put him before doing something so…” Clara cringed in pain, coughing up a lot of blood. “I’m going to go soon. Please think about what I said. Pray to God for forgiveness. Make a new and better life after this one. No one on earth can love you as much as he does.” Clara cringed again.
“No! Clara, hold on!! We can save you! Don’t close your eyes!! Don’t close your eyes!!!”
“Its… so …hard…” Clara flickered her eyes but they felt like led weights. She felt dizzy like what was going on wasn’t real. She felt so tired, tired like she had never been before. And then suddenly she felt at peace. She was gone.
“Clara!!” Artair cried over her. He hugged her now dead and limp warm body. He was then taken away. He could have killed himself on the spot. But for her he would live and ask for forgiveness. Maybe then he wouldn’t fear death, or rather fear the living. He could die and know there was a better life after the one he destroyed. Everyone deserves a second chance. If all sins are equal in the eyes of God, killing was the equivalent the lie it was based on.
Clara found 20 cents on the floor of her car. But before she could think another thought, she heard the screaming of many people. Clara ducked out of her car and looked at her surroundings. People, everyone from the store was running out of the building, tramping on people to get out of the doors. “What the heck??” she said to herself, raising an eyebrow. A guy ran her way to his SUV parked across the shopping cart choral. Before Clara could ask questions he jumped into his SUV, started it and sped off, not caring who was in front of him or behind him. He almost ran over a teenager, who was now yelling profanities at him.
A woman and her two kids ran to the small white car parked on the passenger side of Clara’s car. Clara sought out her chance to see what was going on. “What’s going on?” Clara asked, turning her head to the loud sound of cars colliding in row six, a couple lanes from where she was parked.
“Run!” she said, “Get out of here!! There is a crazy man!!” she exclaimed. She said nothing more. She threw herself into her car, started it and sped away, her kids scared and screaming for their lives in the backseat. Clara could feel the fear in her heart. Her adrenalin she could feel rushing. Her heart started pounding quicker and quicker. The parking lot was a mess, cars were lodged into each other, and now people were just running, they were running from the building. Was it set to blow? She wondered, is there a gun man inside? And if everyone is running… maybe they wouldn’t suspect I would be hiding in my car while everyone else has run away…
Clara ducked back into her car when someone behind her spooked her, “Boo.” He said. And he just said it; he didn’t exclaim boo, he just said it.
Clara turned around. She raised an eyebrow, “Hi?” she said. She then saw the rather large gun he was holding. Her eyes widened. She looked back to the man holding it. His eyes were a light blue, and his hair was dark frown with loose curls. He was wearing a long black leather trench coat and black leather gloves.
“Yes, you see my gun. Rather large isn’t it?” he said, his voice calm, not even a worry as sirens were the only sound in the air now. “It makes a bigger boom and tends to frighten people.” He had an accent, maybe English? Scottish? She wasn’t quite sure.
Clara gulped. “That is a really big gun…” she said.
Another man walked up to the man holding the bigger gun, said something and then gave Clara a death glare.
“Good, chase out anyone else you can find. Kill them.” He ordered.
The other man ran to finish his duty, killing an elderly couple parked in a blue van in the handicapped space. The guy with the big gun was now focused back on Clara. “Aren’t you going to run?” he asked as he powered up his gun, a gun she had never seen before, one that sounded like the flash of a camera as it charged up.
“Haha, no, you’re just going to shoot me anyway. So what are you waiting for?” she asked but not in a taunting way as she looked into the eyes of her soon-to-be-killer.
“You do not fear dying?” he asked, his accent strong, from where ever he was from.
“What’s to fear?”
The man pointed his gun right at her. She didn’t close her eyes, she didn’t even look away. She watched this man. She noticed that he had not fired yet.
“You do not even know who I am, do you?” he asked.
“No?” she raised her eyebrow. Should she?
“Does the name, Artair Watson strike fear into your heart?” he asked.
Clara raised both eyebrows, her eyes widened. “You’re the terrorist of the nations!” this man was originally from Scotland, he was born there and lived there most of his live, he had studied abroad for a few years, but he spent most of his time in his homeland. Until one day he meet the wrong people, or rather the right people for him. He worked for them, learned their ways and overthrew them. He quickly became the most wanted man on earth. He had killed millions; he had bombed many nations and big states. No one could ever catch him. Hardly anyone had seen him.
“Ah, so you do know who I am.”
“I guess.” She said. She didn’t really know him, she only knew what the news said about him.
“So now you know how dangerous I am. Are you afraid?” he asked again.
“Uh… no. Kill me.” She said. “I know where I’m going when I die.”
Artair lowered his gun. “Not even fear in your eyes. You must have some reason for not being afraid.” The man grabbed her by her wrist; his hands that were covered with black leather gloves. He yanked her away with him. “What are you doing?!” Clara exclaimed.
He didn’t answer, he just kept dragging her along with him into the front of the store. A black SUV was parked in front of the store. There were large guns in the hood and on the roof of the car. There was one man sitting in the driver’s seat, from what she could see. Artair stood in front of the side doors. “Open the door!” he ordered.
A man, also wearing black and dark glasses with an ear piece opened the door. Artair threw Clara inside. He then shut the door and walked off, holding his large gun with both of his hands. He went on leading his men in his pursuit.
She saw the military arrive, that was the time they left. The town sirens went off, but it was to no good. They were heading out of town and all she could see was a bright flash and then a large cloud of smoke. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. She never used the good Lord’s name in vein like that, but she meant it. What just happened? In a place she would have never expected. Why here? Why near home? “Oh my God…” she repeated.
“Hey, shut up!” one of the men said, also having the same accent as the man who took her away. Why did he spare her? Why?
“What do you want with me?!”
They didn’t answer.
“Where are you taking me?!” she asked, knowing, obviously they weren’t going to tell her.
They kept quiet.
“Let me out of here!! I’m no use to you! If you want to know something about my country, you have the wrong person!! Believe me, I failed history!!”
The guy in the seat beside her on the other side of the machinery holding the gun up in the middle of them pointed a gun at her. “You are no use to us.” He said.
Clara looked at the gun, frowned, then looked back up to the man.
“But Watson wants you alive. For some reason.” He said, then sitting back in his seat and kept an eye out the window.
They had a long ride. She wasn’t sure where they were going; they picked up another man on the way. He had some maps in his hands. They took country roads. At one point they put her out rather forcefully, by pistol-whip. They must have been getting close to a rendezvous point.
The car stopped. Clara was still out. A couple of men carried her into a bedroom of some house they had taken over. To keep hidden, the large trucks and SUVs with guns parked in the barn. All of the big guns were kept close by in the garage.
Clara awoke. Her head hurt and all the past events came flooding to her mind all in one instant, making her heart beat a mile a minute. She lay back down. This room was obviously not familiar. But at least it was a house and not some torture chamber.
Clara got back up and stood to her feet, feeling a little dizzy. She walked to the bedroom door and slowly and quietly twisted the knob. She opened the door quietly, and found no one outside the room guarding it. It was a bit of a surprise, but then, why would they need to guard the door of someone who was harmless to them?
Clara walked down the tunnel stair way, trying to keep her weight off the stairs by putting some of her weight on the wall and the railing. She heard voices downstairs. She peaked her head out of the stair way. Beside the tunnel stairs was a hallway that went to the bathroom and beside that in a bigger room was a group of people standing around a table. On her other side was another room that led to the kitchen.
Clara came out of the stair way. The room became quiet. The men cleared from the table where the man that kidnapped her sat with a map on the desk. He was wearing glasses, but took them off once she entered the room.
“I see you have awakened, dear, but I am not ready to speak with you yet. Neil, Ross, take her back to her quarters.” He said slipping his glasses back on and glancing back at his map. The other men gathered back around the table most likely planning their next attack.
Neil and Ross walked her way; one of them grabbed her arm. Clara yanked her arm away. “I don’t need your assistance.” She said, walking back up the stairs herself. It was a rather brave move of her to say something like that; she forgot for a second what position she was in. It would be wise not to stir the bees’ nest.
She shut the door behind her and then leaned against it. How long where they going to be? What was the point of keeping her alive? Clara walked to the northern window, holding one arm behind her back with her other. It was another cold day. She could feel the draft through the old wooden framed window. The trees in the surrounding area were mostly barren. The yard was littered with leaves, and all you could see for miles were corn fields, trees, and a few houses, about a few miles apart from each other, enough to give them a blue hue through the atmosphere.
There was some rustling on the other side of the door, someone was about to enter. Clara’s heart started pounding again. She turned around, her back facing the window, her arms at her side. She was just waiting to see who it was on the other side of the door.
The door opened, he, Artair walked in, shutting the door behind him. Clara swallowed nervously.
“Now don’t tell me you’re chickening out now. I thought you were fearless.”
“I said I don’t fear death.” She replied, swallowing again.
Artair walked across the room, standing a foot in front of Clara, he crossed his arms and gave her a once over. She also noticed something about him. His right ear was half severed and scared. And his cheek also had a scar on it, though it wasn’t too visible unless you were looking for it.
Clara raised an eyebrow. “So, you have spared me? Why is that? I am no one special. I don’t know anything about this country that you don’t already know. You might even know more than I do. I don’t know anything.”
“Proving yourself worthless to me might not be a good idea. At this point, I won’t just kill you.” He said, and that is what stuck fear into her heart. Artair smiled, and then started pacing the room, holding his arms behind his back. “Ah-ha! So it is not death that you are afraid of, it’s what the living world can do to you. Pain is your fear.”
Clara shuttered. Who knew what this guy could do. He was a ruthless killer. She saw him shooting at kids and killing babies today. Who could just do that? “What person isn’t afraid of the crazy things people can do to each other? Even you fear something.”
Artair stopped walking, closed his eyes for a second and a smile slowly spread across his face. He walked up to Clara, face to face and moved her hair behind her ear and laughed lowly. He could feel her heart pounding; he could see she was red in the face from fear. He ran his index finger down her cheek. His back leather gloves from his warm hands inside. But by touching her, it only scared her more. “Not wise to call me afraid.” He said, his accent strong, low, and threatening.
“Maybe not.” She said. “But… you are, aren’t you? You are human… aren’t you???”
“I fear nothing.”
Only a fool’s reply. She thought.
Artair went back to pacing the room. He still hadn’t answered her question to why he napped her, and for what his reason was. What would a terrorist want with her? Of all people. The only thing she knew was that he thought she was fearless somehow. She wasn’t, she wasn’t afraid of death, but she was afraid of everything else. But maybe it was not fearing death. But still, what good was that? Did he want to make her a soldier?
Clara took in a deep breath. “If it’s nothing about my country you want to know, why is it you have taken me from home?”
Artair spun around on his heal, his arms resting behind his back. He walked by Clara again, stopped then spoke, “You remind me of someone.” He said, his accent soft this time.
Now that the question was answered, she wanted to know why he blew up that town, a town only 15 minutes from her own, one that no doubly killed her… her… sister. And maybe her father, and maybe her brother. “Sarina…” she said, instantly feeling weak to her knees and a flood of tears making their way to the carpet.
“What?” Artair turned around, Clara’s crying quickly became out of control. She started to heave for air, but she coughed a low growl from the bottom of her throat. Now he realized, he didn’t need to ask. He more than likely killed someone she loved, someone she was close to.
Artair left the room. He let her have her alone time. He went downstairs with his men, just settling down for the night. He could hear her from downstairs. The house, even with all those men, and a few women and it was still so silent. Like a moment of silence when they remembered what they were doing. They had killed so many people that they forgot how much it could hurt a solitary person. They had grown numb to the feeling until now. Like the sounds of a lost fawn calling out for its loved one, she kept calling and calling. She knew no one was going to answer.
For the last twenty minutes she cried on and off. A few people left the house because they couldn’t stand to hear her painful cries. After those twenty minutes it was completely quiet. And after about ten minutes, Artair went back up stairs. He quietly opened the door to see if Clara was alright. She covered herself in the blankets on the bed. When she heard a creek in the floor, she took the blanket off her head.
Artair flicked on the light. He could see her eyes were red, sore from crying so hard and so long. She looked at him with hate. It was his fault that this happened. In a town where she always thought she would be safe from all the warfare, just because the size of it. You would think he would attack New York or a place like Chicago, but never in a small town of which no one had heard.
“Please kill me.” She said.
Artair closed his eyes, sighed, and took a seat at the foot of her bed. “I will not.” He said.
“I will never cooperate with you!! Just kill me!! Kill me!!!” she exclaimed.
Artair rubbed his face and got up. “No.” he left the room again. He’d best give her time or she wasn’t going to cooperate. She would have to eventually.
-----
The night had passed. Early in the morning, around 4:30, 5 Clara woke to the sounds of vehicles starting. They were getting ready for another attack, no doubt. Not too much longer and a man with a gun strapped around his torso came for her. He ripped her right out of bed and practically dragged her downstairs. She was tossed into another SUV, she was sure it was the same one as before. The man in the driver’s seat was even the same. Though, it was a different guy in the seat beside hers. All the vehicles vacated the area.
Today was the same as the last, there was more killing. Another town was completely destroyed, and all the towns within a close radius were also burnt to a crisp. And again they returned to a house, a different one this time, still some place in the country. It was the same drill as before. Clara was directed a room to stay in. She stayed in there. A time or two she had to take a bathroom break. Someone was assigned to stay outside the door, which made it hard for her.
It was 8pm; her stomach was ripping at her. She hadn’t had anything since the day she was captured. Clara snuck downstairs. There weren’t as many people in the house, some of them were still outside with the equipment, some were in the living room with their hi-tech laptops, and the rest were still out fighting with Artair.
Clara walked into the kitchen and found a pot. She filled it with water and set it on the stove. She then searched for the pantry; someone at least had to have some noodles or something. And there it was, there were some noodles. She also found some tuna and cream of mushroom soup. It looked like the people who previously lived here just went shopping. Clara grabbed two tuna cans, and two mushroom cans and made her way back into the kitchen. She set the items on the counter and found a strainer and a can opener. She then snuck back upstairs to wait for the water to boil in the mean time. She heard the guys go in and out of the room by the kitchen down there, but no one must have noticed what she was doing. She once again slipped downstairs to put in the noodles. She had to stay downstairs for this part. She sat on the floor, hidden by the counters.
The noodles were done, she had preheated the oven. Once she mixed all the ingredients in the pot, she found a glass dish and dumped the noodles into it and set it in the oven. She then set a time, 10 minutes. She never really knew how long to cook it in the oven, so she usually watched it.
The beeping of the oven caught someone’s ear. One of the men ran into the kitchen. “What are you doing?!” he yelled, a couple other men entered the room, a lady working with one of them pushed through them.
“Making supper.” She replied.
“Move aside,” the lady said, opening the oven. What Clara said checked out. The men were still not happy that she snuck downstairs without their knowing.
“You’re in big trouble, girly, you don’t do anything without our permission. Turn that oven off! Go back upstairs!!” one of them demanded.
“Now wait a minute,” the lady said, “How many of you remember the last time you had a real supper? Huh? It looks like enough for all of us that are here for the moment. Let her finish.” She said.
“She probably poisoned it!” the other guy said.
“With what? Cyanide? Where is she going to get that?”
“Rat poison, this is a farm.” He said.
Clara shook her head. It would have been a good idea, if she wasn’t dying to eat.
“Fine, you think she’s poisoned it, she will have the first bite then. Leave her be, let her finish. Go back to what you were doing. I will stay guard.” She said. The other men weren’t happy about her idea, but they complied. They were hungry, and whatever Clara was cooking smelled good.
Clara checked the oven after it beeped. The creamy sauce was browned and sizzling. Clara found some oven mitts and used them to set the dish on the table. She took the first bite, piling a little more than a handful on to her plate. She started eating it rather quickly. She invited the others to have some; she really did make more than enough. The other’s took a bowl to their station and went back to work. Some ate at the table.
A little while later Artair and his group came in. They looked tired. Artair noticed Clara was downstairs, and that something had changed. It looked like the people who were previously here were happier? They seemed a little kinder to Clara. They let her walk freely with them downstairs as long as she stayed out of the living room where all the equipment was. Also, it smelled like food. The same lady as before was in the kitchen with Clara as they made an even bigger supper for the boys coming back from their battle.
Artair smiled for a second, but then quickly went about his business to discuss his new plans. Supper was ready and Artair was the first to sit down at the dinner table with all the men that could fit at the table. The house was happy and full. They must not do this often, Clara thought. Maybe they didn’t have the time? Maybe they didn’t have the right stuff to make what they wanted? They were of different cultures. She knew not every country had the same things in stock. Places in England don’t eat pumpkin as a desert like they did in America; they eat it as a squash. And that wasn’t the only thing; maybe something similar was going on here.
Clara left upstairs. The room that she was in must have previously been owned by a teenager. The room was full of wild colors and pictures of “hot actors”. There was a moon chair in front of a window. Clara sat down and looked out the window. She became depressed thinking about the people she lost, and the home she always knew. Her mom might still be out there. She didn’t know whether her brother or father were still alive, her sister was gone for sure. She was in school in the time of all the wreckage. Her sister was her closest friend. Which reminded her, her friends—they were all still alive. They were far enough from the explosion to where they wouldn’t be hurt, but their families were. All of them were doming and now they had no home to go home to. She wished she could call them up and talk to at least one of them.
The day was growing darker. For a little while Clara explored the upstairs and went through everything. She knew it was rude, but the owners weren’t coming back. In what was most likely the adults room she found a jewelry box. Something she couldn’t resist looking through. She loved shiny things. In one of the compartments was a ruby ring. Her favorite color. It had a big stone, and by the looks of it, it was real. Clara took it out and studied it closer. She wondered if it was her size.
“There you are!”
Clara dropped the ring, startled by Artair’s sudden presence. She picked it up.
“Snooping through the house are we?”
“Nope, just me, unless someone else is wondering around…” Clara thought she should say. “Sorta…” she answered. She put the ring back where it belonged. She was going to go back to her assigned quarters. She walked by Artair, he grabbed her arm on her way out. It gave her an unsuspecting shock.
“Thank you.” He said.
Clara turned around and raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Dinner. My team was excited to have real food. You know, we’ve been on the run so much. We don’t normally get to dine this nicely.” Artair let go of her arm.
“You don’t seem like a terrorist. Why are you killing everyone?” She asked. “And I still don’t understand why you have taken me away; you said I reminded you of someone.”
“Yes, my dear, I suppose I have time to explain. But first, what is your name? I have not had the chance to ask.”
“My name is Clara.” She replied.
“Ah, yes, Clara. A sweet name, like Kenna. She is the one you remind me of.” He said, his voice trailing off and his eyes looking through Clara.
“Is she a friend of yours? Your wife?” Clara noticed he was about 25-30 years old.
“A deiced friend. She and I were very close as children.” He said, in his Scottish accent. “She was the only one who understood me.” Artair rested his hands in his jacket and looked to the ceiling above Clara, “You see, I had this inner burning hate for everyone. It all started in my younger years. My father died when I was seven and my mother raised me by herself. She was very strict. She taught me to be a respectful man. When I was younger I did not understand. I was angry because I could not be as free as the other children. When I became older I loved my mom, and I was glad for being raised with respect. But in that time I had grown away from everyone else. Everyone was so worldly. They were numbing their minds with drugs and alcohol. They were extremely disobedient and constantly rude to everyone they spoke to. They thought it was a game, they thought it was a joke.” Artair crossed his arms behind his back and started pacing the room. “I could see the generations below me doing the same thing at a younger age. For me, this happened in high school, now kids as young as ten or even eight are acting like badly mannered adults. I hated them so much!”
Clara looked at Artair with understanding eyes. She wanted to hear more of his story.
“During high school I was friendless. I was hated because I chose not to be like everyone else. I was picked on because I was like no one else. Until fate happened. This girl a couple years younger than I, a girl that was in my science class. We were lab partners, and we both enjoyed science. It turned out we had a lot of the same history. As the years went by, the rest of high school and into college we kept in contact. I loved her all those years. I admitted my love many times and did not understand why she turned me down. I thought we were the same people, and if we were so alike, if we were so close and spoke intimately like we did that we should be together. We even attended the same university.” Artair stopped walking. His face maddened, hate filled his eyes. “One day her arms were wrapped around another man.” He shook his head and started pacing again. “Seeing her with another man infuriated me! After everything we went through! All the things we talked about! I knew everything about her! This student, studying abroad. This American! He had all the good looks and knew all the right things to say. He was the type of people we talked about. He was a fake. The typical guy to get the girl. I quickly became no one again. She spent more time with him, and less time with me. One day I decided to confront her, to tell her, to remind her of who we were and what type of guy this boyfriend of hers was. She insisted that she loved him. But she was only being blind. She was mad of what I told her. She started to leave. I stopped her. If I couldn’t have her, no one would. I shot her.” Artair frowned, his fists were tight, his blue eyes looking over Clara’s head. He could see this memory play back in his mind. Artair shook his head. “If only she would have opened her damn eyes! She went against everything we stood for!”
Clara arched her eyebrows, she could feel his pain. She knew what he was talking about. She had been through a similar tragedy. Though hers didn’t end the same. She gave up on the idea of love. Or so she said. She still thought about it, she still wanted it. But she was done looking. She didn’t have the time for someone at the time anyway. Not when she was so tied up with homework. She was a full time student with a part time job. She asked out so many guys that she thought she was in love with. She was mostly turned down. She had a boyfriend once, one like the girl Artair spoke of, but they didn’t last long. It hurt her to throw away all the good dreams they made with each other.
“So I decided,” Artair spoke again, Clara’s thoughts stopped to hear what more he had to say. “After seeing her body laying there. I was going to purge the world of liars. I know, I know, everyone has lied. But I mean the people who wear masks. Do you understand what I mean?”
“I believe I do.” Clara replied.
“The people who made my life hell. That’s where I started. At home. I killed a lot of people. The law caught up to me. And during my time in prison I found a man who used to work for a terrorist organization. He thought I hated my country so he told me who to contact. They broke me out. They trained me. I was the best of the best and soon I took over the group and made a new one, I call my people Wahre Gesicht, German for ‘True Face’. I am taking over all governments. On the way I took my opportunity to destroy the American’s home. The man who took my Kenna away from me. That’s where I found you. The reason I am taking over the governments… HA! Where do I begin? They are lying to us, for one!”
“Yeah. There has been a lot of suspicion about that.” Clara replied.
“People’s suspicions are right! Each day they get closer and closer to controlling its people. They were doing it in my country. It’s even worse here. You can't turn a corner without being in sight of some camera. Once I have control of the governments I will start a new government. I will teach everyone respect. Even if they have to learn it from the beginning. It will be the dawn of a new age, the old age, the proper age. And I will be the leader.”
Even as bad as it sounded, Clara could somewhat agree with him. Getting rid of the governments spying and controlling everyone was a great idea. It was none of their business what people chose to do. And secondly, re-teaching people the respect that everyone had lost… it sounded crazy, it probably wouldn’t work. But even if they taught kids respect in schools and taught them to respect their elders, that would be a start.
Artair noticed Clara was thinking about his plan. He studied her face. It didn’t look like she disagreed with him. And for that he was happy. Maybe there were more like her out there, maybe if more people knew what his reason was, maybe more people would join in his crusade.
“So, you like my idea?”
“Well… I understand your idea.” Clara replied.
“I can respect that.”
“So, that American that you hated so much… you are here because of that?”
“Normally I would be attacking bigger cities, if that’s what you’re asking. But yes, I am here. I am here to take everything he loves away from him so he can feel my pain. He is my arch rival, being in the military I do meet up with him a few times. We have our brawls. I cannot kill him though. He must live to feel pain.”
“Boy am I glad I’m not his enemy…” Clara thought.
Just then there was thumping up the stairs. “Sir,” one of the men announced, “We have to leave now. The military knows of our whereabouts. They have deciphered our code.”
Artair clenched his fist. “We must leave right away!! Get everyone moving—”
“Already on it, sir.”
“Good. I want Ross and Andrew with me, Clara you stay by my side. You leave with me.”
The man stood there for a second, awaiting an order.
“On the double! Let’s go!!”
Everyone thudded down the stairs and made their way out of the old country house. Artair was the third SUV in the line of weaponed vehicles. They made their way down the road. Clara was in the far back seat. Artair was driving, the map man was suggesting places they could hide at least until the military had lost them again. “Yes, we will go west on that road. Notify the lead driver.”
The other man got on the car radio and told the lead driver where to turn. They stayed on the road longer than expected. The military was on their tail and they hadn’t had time to figure up a new code yet. But they were working on it. They had to stop through a couple towns to gas up, killing innocent lives on the way to keep them quiet.
Soon they found another country road. Artair switched spots with Ross and Ross began to drive. Artair sat in the middle bucket seat and kept his eyes on the road. The night was filled with their voices directing everyone where to go. Eventually they found another country road and the car became quieter than it had been all night. It was about five in the morning. Clara had drifted off to sleep in the back seat of the SUV. Four o’clock was about her limit for staying up—especially because she was up so early the morning before. She missed her old sleeping schedule.
“I think we found a place to stay, Clara, I bet you’re exhausted…” Artair turned his head to look in the back seat of the SUV to find Clara already fast asleep with her head resting against the window. He kept his gaze—just watching her sleep peacefully. He smiled. Oh what it would be like if none of this mess happened. How he wished he could rest peacefully again, like her. The quarter moon was bright enough through the crisp cold sky to shine silver on her bronze colored hair. Gold, silver, iron, her hair was made of the prettiest colors. Her face looked soft and warm; her eye lids lay perfectly against her cheek.
Artair felt a feeling that had lain dormant in his heart for so long. And for so long he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But then he remembered. He felt love for this girl, even though he didn’t know everything about her. But from what he did know she was good and pure hearted and now he was sad that he brought her into his mess. But at the same time he was glad he saved her instead of killing her when he had the chance. There was so much more he wanted to learn from her. It was just the beginning of his knowledge, but he knew she felt the same pain he felt in his heart. But she could control it. He wished he knew how. He couldn’t save himself, but maybe she could.
The SUV slowed down. Artair’s thoughts were interrupted. He turned his head to see the bright red tail lights of the SUV in front of him. The SUV stopped. The line stopped. Artair leaned forward and put his hand on the passenger’s seat. “What’s going on? Radio the lead car. Why have they stopped?”
The man in the passenger seat radioed the first car. “They say there is a man standing in the middle of the road.” Andrew replied.
“What?! Tell them to shoot him and get a move on!” he said, his accent stronger when he was mad.
“Sir… its him they say. James Anderson.”
Artair was silent. He felt the surroundings of the SUV circle him. “Him. The American.”
“Sir, they just said there’s military tanks behind him. And… and…” more of the vehicles radioed in. “They say… they all say… we’re surrounded.” Artair instantly looked out the window. There were lights all around them, from above was a helicopter spot lighting them.
Clara woke up from the excitement. “What’s going on?” she asked. But she could see everyone’s fear. Even Artair. He looked back at her, she with her eyes still red from sleep, her hair messed up from laying on the window. Artair arched his eyebrows and looked into her eyes. “There is something I have to take care of.” He said. He then loaded a rather large run and slid open the SUV door.
“Sir!” Ross called out. “What are you doing?!”
“Taking care of something I should have finished years ago.” He said, getting out of the SUV and slamming the door shut behind him.
“No.” Clara said to herself. She knew this part all too well. He was going to get himself killed.
Ross and Andrew opened their windows and watched Artair march to the head of the line where James was waiting for him. He also had a gun. The men were so focused on what was about to happen.
“You finally show your ugly face.” James remarked.
Artair frowned, his trench coat flapped in the chilling wind as he made his way towards his enemy.
“I hear you were after my family, was it?” James asked. “Well, it’s a good thing I had them all protected. The only thing you did those days was kill innocent lives.”
Artair powered up his gun and aimed at James, he ran towards him in the process. James just stood there and fired three shots, shooting the gun out of Artair’s hands. The gun was useless now. Artair then pulled a hand gun from his side and shot still walking towards James. James shot back. Both of them ducked and dodged the bullets. Artair finally ran out of bullets and took his knife out of his right boot. He flung it at James; James stopped it before it went through his face by catching it between the claps of his hands.
“You’re done, Watson, you’re out of weapons, give up!”
Artair ran towards James, starting a physical fight.
“Oh, it’s a real fight you want?” James smiled. He threw down his gun. “Good, I’ve been waiting for this!!” James landed a hard punch to Artairs gut, causing him to take a couple steps back. Artair got James right back with a fist to the face, breaking James’ nose. There were a few blocks between the two but the hits and kicks they got in were intended to hurt and so they did.
They fought for a while. Both of them were at the ends of their strength. James spat blood from his mouth. “Give up, Watson, your no match for me. Even if you do win, the military has you surrounded. You lost before you even began!”
Artair yelled in anger throwing a punch powered by his adrenaline and hate.
“He’s going to get himself killed!” Clara yelled, feeling sympathy for Artair, he was misunderstood. He could be set right again. He didn’t have to die today.
Clara got to the doors and ripped them open, she ran to the front of the line where the fight was going on. The lights from the helicopter and SUV lit up everything. Both of them were a bloody mess.
James stopped fighting for a moment, he saw a girl running towards them.
“Stop it! Stop it!! No one has to die today!!” she exclaimed.
“Really, Artair, you had to bring a girl into this? Who is she, you’re new lover? What are you going to do, force your ideas on her like you did Kenna! That’s why she left you, you know! She always told me how much of a control freak you were. She said I was perfect for her. The first time we had sex it was because she wanted to hurt you. She was a virgin, you know. She said she was going to save it, but after you ruined the idea she said she wanted to make a new life. So I helped her break her new life in.” James laughed.
“AHH!!! You basterd!!!” Artair landed some hard punches on James who was laughing through it all. Artair knocked James to the ground. He was now too weak to fight, or even move. He had a mild concussion. But he still kept his eyes on Artair and laughed.
Clara ran up to Artair, who needed her support. He was breathing hard, access blood leaked from his mouth and sprayed when he exhaled. Clara helped him down. She hugged him. “You didn’t need to do this. He was only trying to piss you off. You should never give into him.” She said while holding his head. She kissed him on his forehead. “You are a beautiful man, you had good intentions at first, but you should have never let revenge into your heart. It is the quickest way to die.”
Artair coughed and spat the blood from his mouth. “I know, Clara. I am sorry I brought you into this. I am truly sorry for killing your family in the cross fire. Can you forgive me?” he asked. He looked into her soft blue-green eyes and lifted his hand to touch her face. He noticed his gloves were still on. On to hide his shame. He took his other hand and pulled the glove off to show his scared and burned hands. He touched her warm face. He knew it was over for him. He was going to live today, but this was the end of this life. James had won. He was right in saying Artair had lost before he started. He lost the day he killed his beloved.
“Say goodbye, Artair Watson, this is for Kenna!” James picked up the gun from the ground and fired.
“No!!” Clara yelled, blocking Artair. The bullet hit her in the stomach.
“Clara!!! NO!!!” Clara fell weak onto Artair’s chest. Artair got a second wind and held her in his arms. “Clara! I was done living my life! Why did you give up yours?”
“Because I can die knowing where I am going. I do not fear death because I have a relationship with Jesus Christ. He has a place saved for me. If you die today you would have a different fate. There is a God. All revenge is for him. And that is how I left it. I had a bad life on earth also, but knowing and loving God made it easier on me. That is why I would never kill a soul and why I would always put him before doing something so…” Clara cringed in pain, coughing up a lot of blood. “I’m going to go soon. Please think about what I said. Pray to God for forgiveness. Make a new and better life after this one. No one on earth can love you as much as he does.” Clara cringed again.
“No! Clara, hold on!! We can save you! Don’t close your eyes!! Don’t close your eyes!!!”
“Its… so …hard…” Clara flickered her eyes but they felt like led weights. She felt dizzy like what was going on wasn’t real. She felt so tired, tired like she had never been before. And then suddenly she felt at peace. She was gone.
“Clara!!” Artair cried over her. He hugged her now dead and limp warm body. He was then taken away. He could have killed himself on the spot. But for her he would live and ask for forgiveness. Maybe then he wouldn’t fear death, or rather fear the living. He could die and know there was a better life after the one he destroyed. Everyone deserves a second chance. If all sins are equal in the eyes of God, killing was the equivalent the lie it was based on.
♠ ♠ ♠
I didn't put a lot of time into editing this one. And I have heard that Clara gets Stockholm syndrome. Tell me what you think :)