Purpose Page 25
“Go on ahead.” He handed Jake the keys to his Porsche. “I need to speak to Detective Griffin.”
He watched the younger man, head bowed, walk toward the exit. An officer in plainclothes opened the gate and let him out.
“Thank the chief for the security.” He never looked at the detective.
“She still wants you to stay, you know.”
Will snorted softly. “Tell her ‘thank you’, but my answer is still the same.”
“Figured as much.” Griffin was smiling when Will finally turned in his direction. “But I can say I tried—again.”
This got a smile. “Yes, you can.”
He started to walk slowly toward the car. Twice, Griffin looked as if he was going to say something, but stopped. Will didn’t have to read his mind to know what he wanted to ask.
“You can ask, but I won’t tell you where I’m going.”
“That obvious, or did you read my mind?”
“The former.” Across the road on the far side of a small triangle of land, a black SUV with tinted windows idled quietly. He knew what they wanted, but they were going to be disappointed. “The director is watching. Guess there isn’t much important work to do in DC.”
Griffin remained quiet until they reached the gate. “You know they’ll just dig him up once you leave. The temptation will be too great.”
“The casket is empty.” He pulled his eyes away from the black vehicle and turned back to his companion. “I know why they really want the body. Feel free to tell them that they won’t get to run their tests.”
“That super brain of yours thinks of everything.”
“No, just common sense and an understanding of human curiosity.” He let the silence linger for a few moments. “This is good-bye, Daniel. If you need something, call or e-mail me.”
The detective snorted, shaking his head. “A technophile spirit. I think I’ve seen everything now.”
Will peered down his nose. “There are a lot of things about me that would still surprise you.”
“I’m sure there are.”
“Good-bye, Griffin.” He held out his hand, which the detective shook. “Be safe.”
31
April 11, 2010 Entry 39-30
SOMEONE died. An innocent. Someone who deserved better. This time there is no call for vengeance, no demand for retribution. I’ve done all I can to the guilty, but he’ll not suffer as he deserves.
Who is really the guilty? Part of me blames myself, though I know Ryan wouldn’t want that. I can’t stop thinking that if I had never retreated behind Gar, Barrington never would have tracked me. Gar was careful but not concerned. Ryan Posner would exist if not for that. Of course, I might have died without Gar, and Ryan’s Purpose would have ended up killing him.
I try to blame Them, but I can’t. You don’t blame the lion for killing the bison so it can eat. We’re the bison to Their lion. Makes it hard to eat meat anymore.
It feels different; it is different. When I buried David, I didn’t know what I was. Knowing doesn’t make it better, just different. When I hid behind Gar, I told myself it wasn’t me. No more. David deserved better than for me to forget. So does Ryan. I won’t do that again.
But I can’t pretend I’m still the same person It found forty years ago. Will, Gar, Ryan, they’re all gone. Time for something new, someone new. Thanks to Ryan, I understand better what I am and what I need to do. All future hosts will know. Ryan’s legacy to the future.
I don’t want to start over again now anymore than I did when David died. Forty years passed before I realized my mistake. Every day is new, every person is different. I have choices, even if I don’t want to make them. Ryan taught me that. The world should thank him.
This will be my last entry. I don’t need the journal anymore. I started it to help keep my sanity. It evolved into my last link to my humanity. Without that link, I don’t think Ryan could have reached me. For that, I’m grateful to my former self.
I should burn these pages, all of them, but there are things recorded here that shouldn’t be lost. Maybe once Tom reads this, he’ll understand what happened to his kid brother. Then again, he might not care after he reads what I’ve done.
Time to go. I have one more thing to do before I leave Will and that life behind. It won’t be pleasant, but it is necessary. Closure demands it, as does justice.
Someone died. An innocent. Someone who changed the world. Vengeance can never be satisfied.
Epilogue
WILL stood outside the modest two-story house. They were inside. Did they care? Only one way to find out. Concealing himself, he silently entered. Seated in front of folding trays, picking at their food, the middle-aged couple ignored each other to watch television.
Their lack of interest in each other told him all he needed to know about their conduct toward their son. Cold, loveless, these people didn’t deserve a son like Ryan. Did they deserve to know what happened? Maybe not, but they were going to hear it anyway.
Removing the suggestion he wasn’t there didn’t make him “visible.” Jeopardy was on, how engaging. If this was the medium they understood, Will could use it.
“I’ll take children for $1000, Alex,” the television said. The couple exchanged confused looks. That wasn’t a category.
“He is buried in Historic Congressional Cemetery with no one to visit.”
The sound of a buzz drew their attention back to the screen.
“Who is Ryan Posner?”
Mrs. Posner gasped, while her husband squinted at the images.
“What the hell…?”
“Your son died to save someone he loved.” Will’s voice finally made them notice him.
Food and trays flew through the air, punctuated with a shrill scream.
“Who the hell are you?” Mr. Posner stood up, looking around.
“The man your son loved.”
“We don’t have a son.” Sneaking a look to his wife, Ryan’s father continued to cast his gaze about the room.
“That’s right, you don’t. He died three days ago.” Will touched the box on his hip. “Despite the fact you didn’t deserve it, he still loved you both. Your phone won’t work, Mrs. Posner. You can stop trying to call 911.”
“Who are you?” Ryan’s dad had stones; he’d give him that. “How dare you break into our home?”
“Shut up and listen or I’ll forget my promise to your son and kill you both.”
Another gasp from Ryan’s mom.
“Sit down, sir.” He stared at the older man, waiting for him to comply. When he didn’t, Will “told” the man’s nervous system to make him comply.
“Your son was a beautiful, decent man. Had you taken even a moment to return his love for you, you would have known this. But instead you ignored him. Worse, when he needed you most, you cast him out, alone and frightened.”
Changing appearances, he chose a dark, shadowy figure that made them both gasp. “I am the Spirit of Vengeance. I’ve killed thousands of murderers to satisfy my purpose. In all my years, I’ve never wanted to kill anyone more than I want to kill you two. Despite your worst efforts, Ryan was a good man who never lost the capacity to love.
“I loved him more than either of you ever did, and I knew him such a short time. Killing you would momentarily ease the pain I haven’t felt in forty years. But he would never forgive me if I did that, so you’re fortunate.”
Moving swiftly, he laid a hand on each forehead. “Instead, I’m going to give you something you lack: feelings. You will mourn his passing and show him more love in death than you did in life.”
Reaching into both minds, he forced their brains to acknowledge Ryan’s death. A choked sob escaped their mouths. Manipulating their emotions, he forced them to confront their failings.
“Honor his memory, or you will suffer his pain.”
He let himself out, unable to smile at what he’d accomplished. It was supposed to ease his pain, but it didn’t. Then again, he’d never really believed it would.
His old Porsche sat waiting, engine still running. He climbed in and buckled his belt. “I hear Seattle is nice. Did you still want to go there?”
Ryan nodded but didn’t look over. “As long as we’re together, anywhere but here.”
About the Author
After a minor in creative writing in college, ANDREW Q. GORDON decided to become old and stodgy and went to law school. At the urging of his partner, he returned to creative writing almost two decades later. Still working as a lawyer, he and his husband of seventeen years and their dogs live in the DC area. In 2011 they welcomed their daughter into their family. Andrew still manages to write after the last diaper is changed and he unwraps himself from his daughter’s little finger.
You can find him online at http://www.andrewqgordon.com.
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