The only thing separating Hopeless from Elitesburg was a wall several meters high and, beyond it, miles of desert. The wall was covered with missing-person posters and small wooden crosses honoring everyone who had died trying to cross. Dozens of officers and soldiers guarded the entrance, yet that didn't stop those black SUVs from constantly driving in and coming back hours later. Judging by the powerful auras of their drivers, I assumed they were among the few survivors of Ash, entering Elitesburg to replenish the arsenal I had destroyed. The officers likely let them in without even checking them because they were on the gang's payroll. Furthermore, it was common knowledge that several of Elitesburg's billionaires were arms manufacturers, so it came as no surprise that they struck deals with powerful, nearby gangs like Ash.
The wall and strict surveillance were not meant for them, but rather for those who could neither pay the exorbitant bribes nor conduct multi-million-dollar deals.
As always, the law affects only the poorest and most vulnerable.
I was thinking all this while standing in an alley near the wall. I didn't remember how I had gotten there or how I had survived. I was covered in burns and felt utterly exhausted.
But for some reason I wasn't feeling any pain.
Still I could only watch Ash's trucks drove in and out of Elitesburg with complete impunity.
Seeing them reminded me of some of the ones I had destroyed—the shapeless remains of the people inside, and the blood spilled everywhere.
The silence.
I had enjoyed it. Deep down, I had enjoyed killing those people. I think that after everything I had been through in recent weeks—that constant sense of weakness and helplessness—it was more than gratifying to possess a power far greater than any I had ever held before.
But it was an empty power, a power that served only to subjugate others.
Violence, pure and simple—the worst drug of all, since it not only harms you but compels you to harm others.
I also wondered if the gang members on those SUVs were looking for me—if they would murder or torture me for days if they find me.
On more than one occasion, I was tempted to shout at them that I was the one who had slaughtered their leader and their comrades.
Just then, she arrived with food, water, alcohol, and bandages. Her face was swollen and covered in bruises.
"Eat," she said and handed me a packaged pastry.
"Thank you," I took it out of its wrapper and took a bite.
She took out the bandaged she had brought.
"Do you want me to treat your wounds?" I asked her, but she shook her head.
"Yours are much worse," she said, and soaked a bandage in water.
"I'm fine," I told her as she was getting ready to clean my wounds. "Don't waste that water."
She then tightened the bandage on my chest, and yes, I felt pain—not from the burns, though, but from the other wounds that hadn't yet fully healed. It was as if I had sustained those burns so long ago that they were now just a permanent reminder of what had happened.
She immediately grasped the futility of cleaning or treating them, so she gave up right away. We ate slowly and in silence as we watched dozens of SUVs driving in and out of Elitesburg.
"We need to sleep," she told me when she finished. "We can try to jump that wall later tonight."
She then curled up beside me and fell asleep. I kept watching the SUVs. Soon, exhaustion began to overtake me, but whenever I so much as closed my eyes, I remembered the events of the previous day. The smell of blood and smoke rose vividly in my memory. Screams and gunshots could be heard everywhere. The fire was spreading, radiating intense heat. Gang members and migrants alike were fleeing in all directions, mingling together. And at no point did I hesitate to judge someone a gang member and kill them instantly.
I remembered the migrants the officers dragged from their police cars, those forced to dig clandestine graves, those locked away in those tiny cells; and then I remembered the scraps of flesh and blood I left—completely indistinguishable.
I covered my face with my hands and wept silently.
I wish I had died that day.
The hours passed, and night fell. She woke up and took the provisions she had brought.
"Eat," she said, sharing some of what she had; I ate mechanically while thinking of the tragedy I had caused. "Let's go," she stood up and I followed her. We walked along the wall, looking for a spot to climb over that wasn't so exposed. Black SUVs were coming and going. I looked at the missing persons posters and was certain that more than one of those people had been at that farm—and had died because of me.
After a few minutes, we spotted a group of migrants in the distance. They were walking in the shadows, led by a guide. We followed at a distance, staying hidden behind nearby buildings to avoid detection. They stopped at a specific spot and moved aside a small wooden fence that had been leaning against the wall. Behind it was a hole, and the migrants crawled through.
The guide went last; he took the little fence, lay face down with his feet pointing toward the hole and crawled in backwards. His hands were the last things to enter the hole, and they put the fence back into place and then disappeared. We approached silently. We could hear them talking on the other side of the wall, but they soon moved away, so we removed the fence and crawled through the hole.
On the other side lay a vast, dark desert. The only lights were quite distant, illuminating the road to Elitesburg—though that town was so far away that we couldn't even see it.
We pressed on for hours like this, guided blindly. The cold intensified as time passed, but we couldn't stop. Occasionally, we heard helicopters on patrol and saw them illuminating parts of the desert with massive spotlights. Sometimes the beams swept toward distant areas, while at other times they drew closer. In those moments, we would move away as fast as we could, and the light almost never followed us—except for one instance when a helicopter turned on its spotlight very close to where we were; before we could decide whether to run or stay put, the beam began moving toward us. The only thing I could think to do was to teleport us several meters away. It worked, but I nearly exhausted my magic in the process.
We pressed on, and suddenly I sensed a few auras moving rapidly toward a spot up ahead. We approached cautiously and soon saw in the distance a group of UTVs surrounding and detaining the group of migrants who had entered before us. A helicopter illuminated the scene with its spotlight as officers loaded the migrants onto the UTVs. Nearby, on the road, black SUVs were coming and going without any problem.
Once the arrested migrants had been loaded up, both the UTVs and the helicopter headed back toward the wall. We watched them move away and kept going.
Shortly after, we caught sight of Elitesburg's lights up ahead. We raced toward them and soon noticed the officers and UTVs waiting there, at the edge of the desert.
And a helicopter flying nearby shone its spotlight on us.
The UTVs were speeding toward us, so I gathered all the magic I had left and decided to take a risk. I prepared a spell using most of my magic and cast it—not at one of the approaching UTVs, but at the tire of the black SUV driving along the road at that moment. It lost control and flipped over violently. Just as I had expected, both the helicopter and the UTVs rushed to aid those gang members; the well-being of their sponsors was far more important to them than arresting a couple of migrants.
Even so, we approached the city with great caution; upon arrival, we ventured into various alleyways and hid in one of them. We immediately heard sirens moving through the nearby streets. We waited for them to go away, and once they did, we stepped out.
Dawn was breaking.
Shen then hugged me.
"Thanks for everything, boyfriend," she said to me, since it was time for each of us to go our own way.
"I was always a burden. I should be the one thanking you."
"You gonna be fine?" she asked me.
"No. But that's how it is."
"Take care," he told me and soon disappeared into the city's streets. I first walked looking for the sea, since the only thing I knew about the Onepercenter subdivision, where I would probably find Dark, was that it was on the top of a hill overlooking the sea.
After about an hour—and having hidden multiple times upon hearing approaching sirens—I reached the beach. The sun was so intense, and I hadn't showered in so long, that I couldn't resist the urge to cool off a bit in the water. I waded in until I was waist-deep and submerged. The water was cold. I stood up, washed my face and body, and dipped under again.
Seeing them so at ease filled me with anger, given how vastly different their lives were from those of Hopeless' citizens, despite being so close by. It wasn't for nothing that they had built a wall to keep away from all the violence unfolding there—violence they themselves fueled by selling so many weapons to Ash.
As always, business owners sought profits but foisted the consequences onto others.
As I got close enough to the Onepercenter subdivision, I sensed Dark's aura. It was faint, but it was there. Honestly, I felt a bit disappointed; if I hadn't found him, I could have just gone on with my life—always staying hidden from Lancel, Tantrum, and everyone else likely to come looking for me—but finding him meant my job wasn't over yet.
Now I had to go with him and convince him to turn himself in.
I then jumped over the wall bordering the subdivision and landed in the garden of a house where, judging by the absence of any detectable aura, there was likely no one home. There was a swimming pool, plenty of plants along the edges, and a wooden cabinet. I opened it and found various gardening tools. I grabbed a rake and a hose and left the property. The owners of all the mansions around me came and went, but none of them paid me any mind, as I looked just like any other gardener.
After walking down several streets, I arrived at the house where Dark was hiding; it was a two-story building surrounded by a huge garden and a fence. The gate was open, so I went in, left the rake and hose on the lawn, and walked along the cobblestone path leading to the front door. As I moved forward, I caught sight of a small cross stuck in the lawn at one end of the garden. Curious, I walked over and soon saw that it was made of two branches tied together with a bit of string; in front of it lay a patch of earth about a meter wide and two meters long. I knelt beside this grave, bowed my head, and said:
"Rest in peace, Katya."
I looked straight ahead and saw the ocean stretching toward the horizon.
What a beautiful view.
Then I got up and headed to the front door.