Revelations. Part 13

No tears were shed as Jonas drove us in the direction of Los Angeles. I knew where he headed, and I refused to question his motives. When we reached the city limits, Jonas kept on driving. He drove to the city of Santa Monica, and it was there he stopped. He only stopped because he could go no farther. Had he been able, he would have driven out into the ocean and sank us beneath the waves in his beloved white truck.

My other self, that amnesiac self who wrote this story years ago in the fictional form, wrote about a guy named Henry who found Jonas and me at the beach. The other Christiana wrote of an incident at Our Lady of the Angels church in Los Angeles, a grave attempt to get the gov to come find me, so I could get my revenge. None of it ever happened. I've never been to Our Lady of the Angels, but if I exposed myself and my powers, what better place to do so? What happened in fiction doesn't really matter, though sometimes I wish I had done just that. What really happened wasn't so dramatic. What happened instead was this....

Jonas parked the truck, got out and went down a pathway, headed for the setting sun. I followed him after a moment, afraid mostly I would lose him. My biggest fear was he'd walk away, and I'd never see him again.

He was angry, and I knew that. He had every right to be angry. I couldn't blame him for his emotions. He'd just lost everything he'd ever known. His friends, his family. It was all gone. The only home he'd ever had was lost. All heaand I, for that matterahad left was Philip, who lived on the outskirts L.A. Neither of us were ready to find him, though, especially me. I couldn't tell Philip what I'd done, tell him what I'd destroyed or of the lives I'd taken.

Jonas was standing before the waves. Orange and yellow hues played off the ocean, deepening to the reds, indicating the end of the day. This particular day felt like one of the longest, as well as the shortest, of my life. I can honestly say I've destroyed lives before. I've been the cause of other deaths. All of them were painful in their own ways. I regret beyond regret what happened out there. The Commune was a weight, a powerful weight on my small shoulders. I did not know if I could carry this weight. I needed Jonas more than ever but he was having none of me.

I stood and watched him for a long time. He stood with his back to me and his hands shoved deep into his pockets in a very Starch-like stance. What went through his mind was beyond me. I didn't bother to pry or dare to find out. After a long while, after the sun disappeared into the sea and the lights of the nearby pier began to show brightly, Jonas turned from the ocean and walked up the beach. He went past me and headed back to the truck. I did the only thing I could. I turned and followed him.

Back at the truck, there were no words spoken. We simply sat in the truck, in our parking spot until we fell asleep, me curled up on the bench seat, him with his head against the steering wheel. I didn't sleep well or much. Haunting images kept coming back to me. I saw the faces of all the people I'd killed over the years. Children. Grown men. Women like my mother. There were so many more to count among the dead.

In the morning, just before the dawn, I couldn't stand the dreams any longer. I decided it was time to get up. I opened my eyes to find I was alone in the truck. How he got out without alerting me, I would never know. Scared, I looked around as best I could through the windows but he was nowhere to be seen. In my panic, I opened my door and jumped out, glancing up and down the residential street where we parked. No Jonas. Then my mind caught up to itself and I reached out to the most familiar brain waves I knew.

Jonas was sitting on the beach. He was barefoot, and the waves lapped at his heels. Had this been any other day, I would have thought he was just sitting there peacefully, watching the waves crash into the sand. Much like any other morning, when we'd watch the desert sun rise over the hills and valleys, creating a painted landscape. Desert sunrises were always so beautiful and silent. I'd probably never see one again.

Jonas was not sitting peacefully.

After removing my own shoes and ditching them near the edge of the sand, I walked out to Jonas. I didn't care if someone took my old boots. I just wanted to be with him. Almost cautiously, I approached him. He was fighting with his own anger, an anger I'd caused. An anger I didn't want to witness first hand.

I hated myself. After all the years of my life, I know I never hated myself more than this moment. He was the love of my life whose life I utterly destroyed. Hating myself was not good enough for what I had done. I despised myself. I deserved to be lying dead beside them.

"Jonas," I said quietly as I reached him.

He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. His arms wrapped around his legs, and his chin rested on his knees. His amber eyes faced seaward, and he would not look my way.

"Talk to me," I said, hearing the slightest tremble in my voice.

He didn't speak, just continued to stare out at the ocean.

I couldn't stand it so I began to beg, which is something I really hate to do. "Please, Jonas. Please say something. Talk to me. Say something."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, still not raising his eyes to me.

I shook my head though he couldn't see. I had no idea what I wanted him to tell me or what words he should say. I felt tears well up in my eyes. Then my voice ran away from me. "I can still see them," I said, "just lying there. We left them there. I left them. Alone. Like that. I killed them, all of them. And I left them there. Oh G.o.ds." I buried my head in my shaking hands, and I kept going. "I loved them all. How could I do that to them? How could I betray them like that and break their trust? What kind of a monster am I? I might as well have just pulled the trigger on each one of them myself."

I remained still for a moment longer then my feet got a mind of their own, and I walked out into the waves. Standing knee deep in a sucking ocean, alone in the early light of dawn, with only my grieving love to stand as witness, I began to scream. I fisted my hands into my hair and wailed my loss to the world. I fought to retain my balance as the waves threatened to knock me down. I stood there.

Alone.

Screaming.

Jonas let me.

When my voice failed me and I could scream no more, I released my grip on my own hair and paused to catch my breath. My throat burned as I turned from the horizon to see Jonas still sitting there, watching me. The beach was otherwise empty. My eyes were red, my chest hurt, and my head started its usual pounding as I walked out of the waves. My throat felt like it was bleeding.

Soaking wet from the knees down, I stormed back up the beach. I went right past Jonas, headed for the truck and G.o.ds knew what else. Jonas was on his feet in an instant, and he stopped me.

He grabbed my arm and forced me to stop my retreat. Then he pulled me as close as the laws of physics would allow. He held me as I buried my face in his chest. I was unable to stop my tears. I soaked the front of his shirt with the power of my self-induced grief, and he held tight against my sobs. He kept my head against his chest, his cheek lying against my hair. I could feel his hand against my neck, could feel his unwillingness to let go His heart beat just as hard as mine. I felt it.

When I tried to pull away, he wouldn't let me. He simply held me at arms' length. My head bowed, and I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he said.

I kept my eyes downcast.

"Chris, look at me." He said it with such force I couldn't disobey. He took my chin in his hand when I looked up so I was unable to move my head. "You didn't kill anyone."

"Yes," I said firmly. "Yes, I did."

Jonas harbours a lot of anger and aggression. He's a fierce fighter and has an iron fist that can kill with one strike, but he can be tender when he wants to be. Gently, he said, "You didn't kill them."

For a moment, I believed him. It was the way he said it that made me believe. Okay, so I didn't pull the trigger myself. I hadn't put the gun to their heads or lit the Commune on fire. The direct cause of their deaths had been me. If I hadn't gone to the hospital and cured a certain little girl then they would all still be alive.

They'd be safe.

Except I'd gone.

I'd cured Sarai.

Now they were gone.

Jonas bent down and kissed my temple. He had nothing more to say except, "Come on. We should get somewhere safe."

Chapter Thirty-Three.

I have never been to Our Lady of the Angels. I keep telling myself to go, just to see what all the fuss is about. In the fictionalized version of my life, I went there to heal, to expose myself once more so the gov would find me and try to take me. Maybe that's what I should have done, so the gov would find me and the world would be aware of me and my "miraculous" powers. In the real version of my life, Jonas and I went and rented a room in a nearby hotel. I didn't want to see Philip, didn't want to tell him what I'd done. In the end, Jonas and I decided going to Philip's home would expose him to the danger we were in. We wanted Philip safe. So Jonas called him on the phone.

I can't tell you what Jonas said to Philip or how he explained the destruction I caused awill always claim to have caused no matter who tries to convince me otherwise. Outside the room, standing at the end of a walkway, I watched cars go by. Maybe I waited for the inevitable black sedan that never showed up. I went back inside the room only when Jonas came and got me.

"What did he say?" I asked shyly.

"He wanted to talk to you," Jonas said. "I told him no, that I didn't know what we were going to do but he had to be on alert. Philip's tough. And he has connections. He'll be okay."

I sat on the edge of the bed.

"What now?"

I thought for a long moment and said, "I want to find my father."

"Why?" Jonas asked.

"Because he probably isn't any safer than we are. I want to warn him."

Jonas eyed me suspiciously, but agreed.

It was a long night, and whether out of our shared grief or out of something entirely different, Jonas and I made love in that hotel room. As we lay together in the darkness, I knew I would never love another man. I knew he was it for me. I could never give myself to anyone else. If he could love me still after what I'd done...well, that was enough for me.

Chapter Thirty-Four.

By eight o'clock the next morning, after hacking into a secure Air Force website at a cyber cafe in Santa Monica, California, I had everything I needed to find Christian; an address, a phone number, and I'd gone even so far as to get his Social Security number, though it's doubtful it was the same one he had when he first met me. He lived in New Mexico and was stationed at a place called Clovis Air Force Base. He'd originally been stationed at Cannon AFB, which had since been unused by the Force but was still used by the government. It was that name that struck a chord with me, and it took me a while to realize where I'd heard the name before.

Jonas was driving, and we just hit the state line between Arizona and California when I finally remembered where I'd heard the name before.

"s.h.i.t," I muttered under my breath.

"What?" Jonas asked, having heard my curse.

"I remember where I've heard of Cannon before."

Jonas only raised an eye ridge really quick before putting his attention back on the road. His mind was something of a jumble. He didn't know what to think or how to feel. He felt angry, sad, hateful, and even a little guilty. After all, he'd gone with me to the hospital, had been with me when I healed that little girl, Sarai. He knew what I was capable of, and my secret was safe with him.

I realized I'd been reading his thoughts and jumped out of his head to say, "My mother said it once." I racked my brain, trying to figure out in what context she'd mentioned the name. I couldn't exactly remember. I said, "I remember her telling me about it. I must have been no more than five. Maybe younger."

"What did she tell you?" Jonas asked, his mind partially distracted now by my ramblings.

I chewed my lower lip. "I think maybe my grandparents were born there." The ideal word would have been "made" instead of born, but I couldn't bring myself to say that. "I want to go there."

"To the AFB?"

"Yes," I said, now staring out the window. "I think we might find some answers there."

Jonas sighed. "I don't recall having any questions."

"Maybe you don't," I said. "But I certainly do."

Jonas didn't bother to protest my request to hit the base first. I made him stop in a town in Arizona whose name I cannot remember so we could find a computer to use to get some info on the base. Once again, I found myself hacking into the Defense Department, which is easy once you've done it once or twice, and I pulled up as much top secret info on Clovis AFB, formerly Cannon. The base had been moved from its original location and the buildings housing the original AFB when it was Cannon were mostly gone. The few buildings remaining were still in use by the government, though I could not find out what their purpose was. It seemed like the gov didn't even know what they used those buildings for. I had an idea all my own, and my ideas drifted off to secret creations. That's where we would go, to the remains of Cannon Air Force Base.

"Why go there instead of to the new base?" Jonas asked when we were safely back in the truck.

"I have a hunch," I said.

"A hunch?"

"Yes, a hunch," I repeated. "You know, an idea based on nothing but the thoughts in your mind?" It was a lame attempt at humour, but it brought the smallest smile to his face nonetheless. That smile faded rather quickly though. It hadn't been long enough after all we'd seen for such a smile to remain.

"What does your hunch think we'll find there?" he asked.

"Answers," I said. "At least, I hope. It's worth a shot."

"What about Christian?"

I once again chewed on my lower lip. "He can wait," I said. "I don't even know if he's back in the States."

Jonas once again lapsed into silence. This time it was a silence I didn't try to break. Instead, I retreated into my own head, replaying images I never wanted to see again but knew I had to face. I went back into my childhood, remembered the moment when I'd gotten a young friend murdered by the police. I ran to her in the middle of a gunfight, in a place where I didn't belong. Certainly it was place where she didn't belong either. I'd led her there.

The details of how and why she and I ended up in a warehouse in the midst of a gang of drug dealers are not important. That is a longer story than I have the time or the strength to tell. The main fact is I lived, and she died. She died because of me. She was not the first though. My mother, or rather my mother's twin sister, was the first. Though the G.o.ds only know what happened to my mother. Of course, I didn't know at this moment in time that it had not been my mother whose head had been blown off in a car.

Anyway, we drove and drove as I replayed the horrors of my life. I forced myself to watch those scenes over and over again. I went back over the accident that wasn't that left me in a coma lasting over three years and made my father disappear. I fought with my emotions as I heard the crunch of metal, the snaps of bones, and the punch of an explosion from the truck we hit. I could almost feel the fire as I imagined moments I could not remember, moments that occurred after I lost consciousness. I did not know what happened to me after my head shattered against the dashboard, or how I got out of the car. All I know is someone pulled me from the wreckage and an ambulance or a Good Samaritan got to me before the gov soldiers in the sedan did. Otherwise I would have ended up in a gov base back with my creator rather than in a hospital under the care of a very watchful and knowledgeable Doctor Michael Daniels.

I lived when I should have died. I survived being shot while trying to get to my friend after the police put a bullet in her brain. I healed after the accident left me comatose. After the Commune was blown to smithereens I continued to breathe. I lived. The ultimate question was why?

Later that night, after hours and hours of driving, I made Jonas stop at a motel somewhere in New Mexico so we could get some sleep and hit the AFB early in the morning. Getting in to the base would be easy. Snooping around would be just as easy. Jonas knew what my mind was capable of and I could have done it that night. I wanted to make sure my mind was clear and fresh when we broke into the base.

He didn't question my motives, only followed my lead as I got us a room and took him to it. I will say I seduced him into making love to me again that night even though his heart wasn't quite in it. When he lay spent beside me, his gorgeous scaled body lit by the only lamp in the room, I sat at the edge of the bed with my legs curled beneath me. I sat and examined him in all his naked glory, spread out and sleeping before me.

Jonas, as I have mentioned, is the love of my life. I love everything about him, head to toe, inside and out. I would fight and die for him without question. I'd stand up against anyone who even looked at him funny. He was everything to me. He still is, but I would have given anything for him to not be with me, for him to be back at the intact Commune with his friends. I would have given anything to have never met him, to have never brought him into this situation with me.

I would have given anything to have been alone.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

The next morning, before the sun rose, I got Jonas up and we headed out. We weren't far from what was once Cannon AFB- though I'll call it Cannon from now on though it's now just a base with an ID number that I don't know but would find out, given a few minutes time...anyway. The out buildings still remaining were few, and when we came to them, I took a few minutes to examine the layout.

A couple of soldiers guarded the base, and a chain link fence surrounded the place. No problem for me. I can climb. I told Jonas where we could safely park the truck, and we began a long walk, lit only by a flashlight, to the outskirts of Cannon.

At the very brink of dawn, we reached the edge of the base on the north side. I have no idea what this place looked like when it was an AFB, all those years ago, but at that moment in time it was two very large, unconnected buildings, a metal hanger of enormous size and two smaller out buildings. An exposed electrical tower sat off to the south and a small water tower dominated the east.

I scanned the minds of any I could reach. A lot of the soldiers still slept; it was well before six a.m. when their call to duty would be made. Not that it mattered if they woke. I would hide Jonas and myself from anyone and everyone we met.

While watching the morning sentry march up and down a small concrete walkway by the front gate, I followed a soldier making his rounds inside the largest building. I plowed quickly through his memories, picking out the information I needed most; the location of a room filled with filing cabinets. A room filled with answers. However, this soldier was afraid to go into the filing room, hated having to fulfill requests to get this folder or that. His fear stemmed from the fact that, to get to the file room, you had to go through another room: one filled with bodies.

I swallowed and pulled out of his head.

"Are you okay?" Jonas whispered in my ear.

I nodded for I couldn't find my tongue. I felt like I might choke on it.