Chương 233: 6.10

The ship sliced through the ocean, leaving its temporary mark on the blue expanse, waves fanning out in its wake like a sprawling white dress. Shimmers of the sun danced on the crests of the rising water. On the horizon were hints of the continent, silhouettes of buildings, houses, and trees against the rising sun. Thousands of people should be there, starting their day, and living their lives. All too beautiful. Life is beautiful. When was the last time Erind appreciated such beauty? Or the first time?

No way she had ever bothered to stop and admire the wonders of the world around her. There was a sense of self with emotions. Sense of being, sense of completeness… It all sounded like philosophical mumbo-jumbo in my head, but it was true. I think. Erind liked observing people; I had a myriad of memories and experiences to base my conclusion on. I saw that people were more alive with emotions. When they become numb to them, their self slowly crumbles until only a husk remains.

But on the other hand, Erind was far from a husk. She didn't have an issue with her… incompleteness. How? Why? We were one, her memories were mine, yet I couldn't fathom how she ticked. I leaned further out over the railings, taking in the fresh air and savoring the warm sun, staring keenly at the waters dozens of feet below, trying to see past its surface. I hoped to spot a fish or two, but the frothing waves obstructed my view. Fishes probably wouldn't wander near the ship anyway.

A gasp escaped my lips when a peculiar sensation churned in my stomach. I grasped the white rails, the crystals on my palm grating against metal, and pushed myself straight. I blinked, processing what happened, and then chuckled. Just a normal sensation when looking down from great heights, the weird thing in the stomach. Not sure of the scientific explanation, but I was sure it was nothing out of the ordinary. Erind, in all her wrongness, had felt it a few times before.

"Normal…" I peeked over the ship to see if the sensation would return. It hit the pit of my stomach again. My knees and my toes tingled. My lips quivered into a smile.

"I'm a normal human." Closing my eyes, I recalled when I had gazed upon crashing waves from a tall place. Many, many, many times. It was my morning ritual to watch the sunrise over the Pacific Ocean, with my chosen tea for the day, with the hideous Black Spire always ruining the view, its shadow extending to the shore. I'd even set the alarm for—"Wait, what?" I opened my eyes. The land was before me and so was the sun. The ship's shadow wasn't on this side.

The Pacific Ocean stretched out on the other side of the ship, all the way to Hawaii and on to Asia. The sun was definitely not rising from over there. I rubbed my eyes as if I had just woken up.

"I-I'm just imagining things." The sun had always risen from the East. I was mixing things up. Being this close to the ocean and seeing waves from a high vantage brought back memories of Kelsey. The traumatic experience of witnessing someone kill herself—or maybe try to, given that a body was never discovered—messed my mind. It could fuck up anyone. Maybe even Erind, and she just didn't realize it. I replayed that scene in my head, analyzing how it could've affected me… affected my human emotions.

Kelsey's body contorting into inhuman angles made me squirm. The thought of bending the wrong way was awfully grating, like fingernails scratching a chalkboard. Kelsey also clawed her face, drawing much blood. She screamed as she ran to the cafeteria windows, crashing through the glass and hurtling into the furious waters marred by jagged rocks far below the cliff where the Cresthorne building perched. Could Kelsey still be floating somewhere out here?

We suspected Dario and the Professor had a hand in her disappearance, but other than that, we didn't have any further information. No concrete clue where she was or if she was still alive. The police found nothing—clothes, hair, blood, or whatever—on the rocks or along the shores.

"Falling from here is going to be fucking painful," I muttered, staring at the waters again. Bellyflopping from this height would be like slamming on concrete. Even Erind would get hurt. She definitely didn't know how to dive gracefully. And it was evident from her ghostly complexion that she hadn't visited a beach or swimming pool in ages. Though Kelsey was an Adumbrae, there was a chance she died from the fall.

If she impacted the water wrong, maybe broke her neck, or bashed her head against the rocks, that could've ended her superhuman regeneration. If she did die, her corpse wouldn't necessarily get washed onto land. It could've sunk to the bottom of the ocean, eaten by crabs and shrimps, or wedged between rocks or cracks.

"I'm sorry, Kelsey," I told the waters, hoping the currents would carry my words. My Domino self hadn't done anything wrong—I wasn't even around back then—but I was apologizing on behalf of Erind.

"I… could've saved you." That time, Deen was on the floor after being surprised by Kelsey's violent outburst. Deen picked herself up to chase Kelsey but was too late. But I… but Erind could've stopped Kelsey if she were closer. However, Erind intentionally hung back, not wanting to deal with the bullshit that disinterested her. And when Kelsey ran to the windows, Erind stood still. If Erind cared about other people, she could've saved—no, too dangerous.

"I'm just piling on Erind, aren't I?" I tapped the palm crystal on the rail, chewing my tongue. So obvious that I was trying to make myself look better than Erind to justify why I should be in control and not her. If Erind had tried to wrestle Kelsey away from the windows, Erind could've been injured. After all, Kelsey was an Adumbrae at that point, while Erind was still a regular human. Human… I'll die a human! Those were Kelsey's last words.

"I'll die a human," I repeated out loud. Since Erind was an outsider of this world, wasn't it better if I got to be the one to stay? There was no benefit to Erind's existence. She was… wrong. I was the correct one. Without even counting the Adumbrae parts, I was more human than her. Seemed logical that I should replace her and set things right. Sadly, it didn't work that way. I had a timer.

'17' displayed the crystal on my right palm. My left crystal remained unchanged, simply showing the number '0'—I still had no clue what it was supposed to be for. It might be another timer for something else. And now, I wouldn't have a chance to find out. I breathed deeply as the breeze caressed my cheeks. My eyes were a little wet. Could be from the wind. Could be tears.

The chatter of passengers behind me, the clatter of their utensils on the plates, and even the hum of the moving ship, the sounds retreated far away. I held the rails. I placed my right foot on the lowest rung and tried a couple of hops on my left. I knew what to do next. I would put my left foot on the next rung, my right on the one above it, swing my leg over, followed by my torso, and let gravity take its course. I'd go over so fast that no one would notice I was gone. No one could stop me… or save me.

The winds would envelop my body as I'd fall. I'd shut my eyes tight. And also, my mouth. I wasn't going to scream. Then I'd hit the water, pass out, and slowly drown—I'd die human and in control of this body. However, my left leg wouldn't reach for the second rung. My arms wouldn't push my body up. It wasn't that I was afraid. That too. But what held me back was Erind, awakening inside me and pushing to impose her will. Predictably, she was furious.

Not because I wanted to kill myself per se—of course, that was bad for her—but more so because I was breaking a Rule. Rule #8: I can kill myself only after I have killed everybody else. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. This Rule formed from many nights watching true crime documentaries with Mom. Funny how a vicious and morbid Rule came to be from such lovely moments. Further proof of Erind's twisted thinking and why she shouldn't be in charge.

Episodes of that show—I forgot its title—would start from detailing grisly crimes, then the investigations that followed, and eventually progress to the suspect getting identified. Most would get arrested. Some would get killed fighting the police. And a few choose to take their lives by their own hands—this small batch always puzzled Erind. Many possible reasons why those people did it. Guilt or regret, fear of facing the consequences, wanting to go out on their terms… Erind couldn't understand any of those.

For her, life shouldn't stop because someone made a mistake—that was how she'd word it, though people wouldn't consider the crimes simple mistakes. She couldn't comprehend killing herself, no matter how fucked up the situation got. Which was a good thing, I supposed. It would've been better if Erind's train of thought continued that those criminals should reform themselves instead. But no. That never crossed her mind. Rule #8 had two sides.

One was for self-preservation—Erind sorely needed it given her wonky sense of danger—and the other would trigger if she ever got backed into an absolute corner. Very concerning now that she was an Adumbrae. Plenty of possible situations that might drive her to do something desperate, and I shuddered to imagine what she was capable of.

"I can't let Erind continue existing in this world," I said more firmly.

"Her stupid Rules don't bind me." Still, I didn't move. Recalling the late nights watching TV with Mom after Dad was gone glued my left sole onto the wooden deck. If I died, Mom would be all alone. She'd be heartbroken with two family members leaving her. And I didn't even leave a note with an explanation for some closure. At the least, I should've said goodbye first.

"But I have no time," I countered. The countdown was ticking. Mom would be in grave danger if Erind were around, either from Erind herself or her enemies. The Tech Fair was proof. And it wouldn't be the last incident. If I took Erind with me, Mom would be emotionally hurt but physically safe. I hoped my body wouldn't be found so no one would know I was an Adumbrae. I didn't want to burden Mom with the stigma of having an Adumbrae family member. On my part, I shouldn't be afraid.

Think of how many people I'd save by stopping Erind.

"I'm brave…" I nodded at the Pacific Ocean. I pushed myself up, lifting my left leg off the floor and putting it on the second rung. If I genuinely cared for this world, I should—"Santa!" someone yelled. My eyes widened. I already had both feet off the floor. I dropped back to the ground upon recognizing the voice. Then I nonchalantly settled into a relaxed pose, elbows on the top of the rails and right hand cradling my chin. My heart pounded. Adrenaline was like electricity shocking my body.

I couldn't believe that I was seconds from jumping off the ship. Was I really going to kill myself? The pitter-patter of tiny feet on the deck neared.

"Santa, you're here!" My hands and knees trembled as I struggled to stand tall. My legs almost tied themselves together as I turned around. I swallowed my saliva and cleared my throat, hoping I could talk straight.

"Hello there, my boy." It was the lost kid I had helped find his parents. Notedly, he generated the same illusion as earlier.

"Do you remember me, Santa?" The boy vigorously waved his hand though he was right next to me.

"Of course, little Ethan," I replied, putting on my best jolly grandpa voice.

"I didn't forget about you because you're a good boy." He beamed at the praise. I raised my hands half a foot from my midsection, open palms facing inward, praying that my illusion looked like I was holding a large belly. I let out a hearty chuckle that entertained the kid.

"Having breakfast with your parents?"

"Yep, I am." He nodded so energetically that his head might fall off.

"Lots and lots of food here! I can't eat all of them!" The boy's dad jogged up behind him, face all embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fischer. I hope Ethan's not bothering you." He picked up his twice-lost child and shot him a stern look.

"His mother and I will give him a definite scolding, I promise that."

"No worries, no worries," I said. It took me a moment to recall that 'Fischer' was the fake name I gave their family.

"Kids being kids, eh? No need to get angry with him. A good reminder will suffice."

"You're right, Mr. Fischer. I will remind my son not to talk to strangers. He's a bit excitable, often forgetting that lesson."

"It's very understandable why he came to me, with the white beard and all…" I didn't finish my sentence because I didn't want to ruin Ethan's childhood.

"I just want to see Santa," said Ethan.

"Santa's not a stranger, right?" His dad had a conflicted smile.

"Of course, Mr. Fischer isn't a—""Santa! He's Santa!"

"Er, yes, Ethan. He's Santa, and Santa isn't a stranger. But you might mistake someone for Santa even if they're not. You just can't—""No way I'll make a mistake. I'm not dumb. Mom said I'm smart." He pointed at me.

"See? I found Santa, right?"

"Um, yes, you did, son." His father hesitantly smiled at him, then glanced at me, asking for help.

"But that's not what I'm talking about." I took a step closer and bent to the eye level of the boy.

"I'm Santa, yes. But you must remember—" I raised a finger at him "—that it's a secret."

"A secret?"

"Yes. You have to keep the secret that I'm here. Don't forget that Santa wants to hide 'till Christmas, or I'll lose my powers."

"Really?" His face became a confused frown as he processed my made-up story.

"I don't want you to lose your powers."

"And you shouldn't bother Santa's vacation," I said, "or I won't have enough rest to continue making toys for good boys like you." The boy jerked back as if he received the epiphany of his life.

"I'm sorry, Santa! Rest all you want to make toys. I didn't want to bother you. Please don't be angry with me."

"Don't worry, little Ethan. I'm not angry with you. I know you just can't wait for Christmas. But it's still far away, so Santa has to continue hiding."

"Do I still get presents?"

"If you continue being a good boy," I said with a smile, "then you'll get presents." My smile was genuine, but it wasn't directed at the kid. I was amused at my situation. One moment I was about to say goodbye to the world, the next, I was pretending to be an old man pretending to be Santa.

"So, continue to listen to your parents because that's what being a good boy means. And don't talk to strangers."

"But Santa isn't a stranger…" Ethan frowned as his tiny brain struggled to understand.

"After this cruise, I'm going to hide again. You'll probably find me because you're smart. But don't blow my cover, okay? I have to hide, hide, and rest, rest, for Christmas." Ethan's face perked up when I called him smart.

"I get it! Rest plenty, Santa." He pushed to unravel his father's arms and jumped down.

"Have to tell Mom I saved Christmas." His father let him go, and he dawdled back to the table where his mother waited. The father didn't immediately follow.

"I'm grateful for your help, Mr. Fischer," said the boy's father.

"That might just stop him from going up to strangers. It's hard to look after kids."

"Sure is," I said, chuckling.

"Thankfully, mine left the nest a couple of decades ago and now have their broods to raise. I'm just living life, traveling with the missus. She's not an early riser, so it's just me having breakfast." Ethan's father said, "Well, my journey as a parent is just beginning. Children can be a handful. Oh, correction—child. I only have one, and I'm already tired." But you love him, nonetheless, I thought. I'm also an only child. My mother also loved me, I told myself, blinking back tears.

I shouldn't hurt her by leaving.

"Ethan runs out of sight every chance he gets," the father continued.

"We might have to put a leash on him," he jokingly added.

"It's so dangerous nowadays compared to when we could play in the streets without an Adumbrae appearing when you least expect it."

"Ah, the Adumbrae attack in Vegas," I said, tensing up. Surely, this was a mere coincidence. Given all the shit Erind stirred, it would be expected for parents—and everybody else—to worry a lot.

"Not just that, Mr. Fischer. It all started with La Esperanza. The botched BID mission, Adumbrae in the city sewers, seeding everywhere… To top it all off, there was a Titan. Whatever started in La Esperanza is also spreading to New Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Bernardino. Then it reached Vegas and exploded again." I kept nodding even as new questions formed.

"I hadn't heard of those other attacks." What was that all about? The other groups Big Marcy had mentioned?

"My wife thinks there's a Purple Bloom behind all of this," he went on, "just like what's happening in Africa. I usually don't believe her theories—she gets wild ideas from Snippet—but I might think she's right if there's another Adumbrae attack."

"Everything on the news is horrifying lately," I said. How do I get out of this conversation?

"We'll be blind if we rely solely on the news." Ethan's father leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"I also heard that the terrorists who took over the Greaves Convention Center have some way to turn people into Adumbrae. There are a few videos online of it, but the government is deleting them. That's what my wife says, anyway."

"Is that so?" I guardedly said.

"Can't know who to trust these days if even the government is hiding things from us." The father paused. Then he waved his hand as if swatting a fly.

"Bah! They can hide whatever they want so long as they eliminate the Adumbrae and keep my family safe."

"The BID did resolve the issue in the end," I said, recalling how Erind ended the Tea Party. But at the cost of many lives. Though I couldn't blame Erind for those, could I? If she weren't around, then there'd be more deaths.

"But many people died," I reminded Ethan's dad.

"Sometimes it can't just be helped, Mr. Fischer," he replied.

"The government can't tiptoe on cracked glass while saving us. They better act fast to stop these terrorists with bio-weapons that can turn people into Adumbrae. My wife said that they can force even children to mutate!"

"That's horrible…" I faked concern while my mind grappled with something else. Sensing our conversation had run its course, Ethan's father bid me goodbye and returned to his family with the promise that Ethan would never bother me again. I looked past him as he walked, examining his wife and son. Erind, in all her faults, was trying to stop the parasite thingies, though not for heroic reasons. I touched my face.

"Erind isn't going to use this mask again, is she?"