ABANDON

Chapter 38 -- Return

The landscape sped by unnoticed. The hollow warehouse was far behind them, and there was nothing but sand, vast valleys and never ending hills of gray meeting gray.

John was silent. Frequently he glanced behind. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly turning his knuckles white, making the veins in his hands pop out.

Jane felt compelled to say something... anything. But every thought that came into her mind was wrong. There was always some great reason not to say it, and Jane endlessly searched for some way to reach out to John knowing she was not good enough. Common ground, wasn't that what her parents and all her many teachers had taught her, connection starts with common ground. And Jane sighed as she looked around her, all the ground was gray. She had to admit it, she was afraid to say anything, afraid of being wrong—still afraid of failing. Jane felt her old anger rise: what is wrong with that? What is wrong with being afraid of failing? Fear is not the enemy here.

It was time to fail.

Jane turned to John. "We survived. You survived. You have seen the face of death and lived."

John didn't say anything. His knuckles remained white, his veins still popped out.

Failing didn't feel that bad, it actually felt good. Aggressive and rebellious, Jane reasoned, like driving.

"I have never seen one that big before."

Jane's words seemed to make John uncomfortable. He looked out over the gray, then looked at the steering mechanism before him, looking at it, yet looking past it. Finally he spoke, "I saw hate, deep endless hate in his eyes... And that is exactly what he saw in mine."

John's word seemed to open a deep pit of icy air. Jane felt cold.

"Now I know." John crumbled, his words tumbling out with a shaking voice. "Now I know what she saw, her last sight before death. Blackness and hate. Hate and cruel rigidity. And I wonder, did she hold out her hands to him." John turned and looked directly at Jane. "Did she beg for her life?"

"Even if she did, can you blame her? This is our right, it is the right of all living things."

"To beg?"

"No, to value what we have."

John's shoulders softened, he looked down and closed his eyes: softly, briefly.

"To try to communicate that value to others."

"And what can he see?" John's jaw was tense. "Nothing but twisted, black hatred."

"I wish I knew what to say to help you. You've helped me so much. John, look at all you know, even though you have never seen him. He may beat you down, but you always come back. You are strong, and clever, and kind. John, today, he let you live. Think of what you can do now!"

John looked at Jane and she held his gaze. "I asked her to stay. Eva. I knew he was coming—No—already here. He was there, right on top of us, and I asked her to stay. I knew there was risk—great risk. I knew what the outcome was going to be, but I hoped. I hoped in that tiny spot of light that maybe he wouldn't kill her. And in that moment that bright spot overshadowed every truth. Truths that were solid. Truths I had always known. I knew he was going to kill her. I knew that she was just a distraction." John shook the memories from his mind. "Look at this land, look at my world. Light doesn't shine here, it's not meant to be here!" John took a despairing breath. "Hope has killed me. And I know what comes next."

Jane recognized that kind of sarcasm.

"I've heard it a hundred times. She died, but the rest of us lived. One sacrificed for the many, the math is easy. But do they know how hard it digs, how deep it cuts."