The Consequences of Calamity: Distraction, Episode 1-Our Revenge
The sleek black town car seemed so out of place as it bounced up the unkempt gravel road. A portly man in the driver’s seat grabbed his cap with every dip and crevice in the old rocky path. The weeds lining the road had begun to grow unruly as vines and wildflowers gave one last flourish in the shadow of the oncoming autumn.
It was clear no one had bothered to journey up that way for quite some time. Possibly years. At some point even the grounds keepers had given up. In all his decades going to that spot, Nagizir had never seen another soul. Fortunately for him, that’s how he preferred it.
“We’re nearly there, Master Nagizir,” the driver happily chirped. “It’s a little bumpier than usual.”
Nagizir, sitting in the backseat, said nothing. He simply stared out the window into the deep blue sky as wisps of white gently drifted overhead. He muttered something to himself, but the driver could not hear him. He knew better than to try and listen to conversations Nagizir had under his breath.
The car made a wide turn as it crested a hill that appeared far less steep than it actually was. On the right was a large cliff that dropped down to a deep blue bay. On the left was a cluster of trees swaying in the breeze of a dying summer. Among the trees were a few rows of stones protruding from the ground.
“Pull over here Markesh,” Nagizir muttered.
The car quickly pulled to the side of the narrow gravel road just beyond the top of the hill. The driver clamored out of the front seat and nearly sprinted just to get outside to open the door for Nagizir.
“You picked an excellent spot, Lord Nagizir,” Markesh said with a smile.
Emerging from the car was a man that appeared no older than his mid-thirties. He was a little on the lean side but far stronger than he looked. He adjusted the black suspenders on his purple button-down before placing a hand on Markesh’s shoulder. Both of his hands were covered by a white metallic glove with black and blue markings on both sides.
“Thank you,” Nagizir sighed as he slowly made his way past the driver. “I won’t be long.”
“Of course, sir!” Markesh knew better. Every time they had come to the old cemetery, Nagizir always spent hours longer than planned. He knew he had time to read a magazine and possibly even grab a nap. Markesh smiled and gave Nagizir a wave, but the man did not turn back to look at him.
Nagizir’s shiny black shoes crunched with a mix of loose gravel and dying grass with each footfall. He had gone up to that spot many times over the past seventy years, but something about that time felt different. He thought he was ready for this, but as his feet brought him closer, he wasn’t so sure.
He would never let it show on his face, however. His dark yellow, almost brown eyes could only truly convey three emotions: desire, rage, and contempt. Perhaps he had always been like that? Perhaps the cruel and broken world made him that way? He was too old to remember what he was like in his youth anymore. If he had been a bleeding-heart idealist, he wouldn’t recall.
He passed by a family plot of tombstones and took a moment to look at each marker. He could have been stalling, but he had also never stopped to look at the others laid to rest on the hilltop. The markers were crooked and lopsided after almost a century of weather and shifting earth. The writing had all but faded into nothingness. There was no more story to tell. Too much time had passed, and no one remembered them anymore. And with the failing of stone carvings, no one would ever know them again.
The trees grew denser and closer as he drew onward. The tombstones grew older as more cracks and fissures were visible about the slabs. Even the once grand obelisk had lost the top third of its shaft. Nagizir felt something at the site. He wasn’t sure if it was sadness as it had been such a long time since he felt sad. The last time he could remember was when he found out he had lost the love of his life. Even then however, the sadness quickly crumbled under the weight of his rage.
That’s why he had returned in the first place. It was the only place left where he could still feel him in his heart. It was the only place on Earth where his skin could remember the touch of his lost lover. It was the only place left in all of existence where he could remember his laughter or smell of his hair after a morning cigarette.
Nagizir felt a shiver as he remembered he and Gyren, arm in arm, dancing in a bar in downtown Chicago. He saw the first night he met Gyren as they made out in a dark alley under a canopy of fireworks. He could feel his hands running through Gyren’s short black hair. He could feel himself holding his lover’s round face in his palms. He felt a sharpness in his chest, remembering the intensity of those icy blue eyes. With every footstep, another memory pried itself into his brain.
He saw the two of them playing strip poker on a double date in Italy. For a moment, he was there again, seeing Gyren slide out from under a car after working on a wheel bearing. For just a moment, Nagizir could feel himself waking up next to Gyren morning after morning, and the relief of knowing it was still real.
Nagizir remembered standing in the grandstand as Gyren boxed his fellow Sheriffs, the crowds cheering as muscular sweaty men pummeled the shit out of each other for sport.
He wasn’t sure how long his mind had wandered, but before he knew it, he was standing in a clearing just beyond the densest part of the cemetery. Ahead of him was just one more stone. Beyond the stone was the cliff that dropped down to the bay.
There was nothing too flashy about the slab. It was only about three feet tall, and nearly as wide. Though it was made of granite and well-maintained, there were no ornate features or decorative carvings. Just an inscription that read: “My Gyren. My Beloved.”
Nagizir approached the stone but noticed something was amiss. Someone else had clearly come to visit. But how could that have been possible? Only he and Markesh knew of this spot. His lips curled in disgust as he knelt to pick up an envelope that had been left by another visitor.
Inside the envelope was a letter, handwritten on thick off-white paper. Even the ink looked expensive. It wasn’t very long, only a few lines actually, and there wasn’t even a signature. His lips moved silently as he read each line carefully.
“Gyren,
I am so sorry. What became of you was a fate that none of us wanted. I have nothing more to give you than my remorse and my revenge. As the shame and regret swallow me alive, I shall avenge you or share your fate.”
The paper immediately burst into flames in one of Nagizir’s metallic palms. He let out a scream over the cliff as he flung the ashes into the wind. He only lost control for a moment, however. Within seconds, Nagizir was once again cold and emotionless. He took a deep breath before sitting with his back against the tombstone.
“Sorry you had to see that, Babe,” he muttered as he placed a cigarette on his lips. He let out a quick puff of smoke and continued, “I see you’ve become popular.” Nagizir almost laughed at himself.
“Well, you always were the outgoing one. I hope some of that rubbed off on me, but I can’t remember what parts of me are me and which parts are just remnants of you.”
There was silence as Nagizir took another long drag from his cigarette. He let the cool breeze brush by him, gently rattling tree limbs. Finally breaking the silence, he sighed, “Look, I know I haven’t come up here lately.” Another pause before he added, “I’ve been busy.”
Nagizir used the almost completely consumed cigarette to light another as he rummaged in his pocket for a silver flask. “Besides, you’re not even here. I never did find your body, remember?”
He found himself pausing, half-expecting an answer before laughing. “God, look at me. Look what you turned me into, Babe.”
His shoulders rounded as he slumped over. “I won’t beat around the bush this time.” He took a long drag from his cigarette. “This is the last time I’ll be coming up here.”
Taking a long swig from his flask, Nagizir continued. “Like I said, I’ve been busy. I’m only going to get busier.”
Nagizir’s voice changed, growing lower, colder, and more threatening. “I’ve been trying to find your killer. I’ve been trying to find the one that took you away from me.” He took both a long drink and then long drag before growling, “When I’m through with them, they will beg for death.” His eyes widened as he grew louder. “I will take everything from them. To hell with this world! I’d sooner destroy it than let them get away with this for even one more day!”
Nagizir spun around, pressing his face against the tombstone. For the first time since he could remember, one tear snuck out from his eye and crept down his face. “There’s nothing good in me; in this world since you were torn from me. Let it burn. LET IT ALL FUCKING BURN!”
The tears were short-lived, however. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet. He clenched a fist and the wind grew stronger. Leaves began swirling from trees as his merciless face grew more tense. “I hate everything,” he seethed. “I hate everyone.” He looked at his clenched fist as the wind was nearly at gale-force and swirling in a tight circle around Nagizir.
“For you,” his voice was a quiet emotionless rage. “My labor of love.” His eyes narrowed on the horizon. “I will destroy them all!”