《The Last God (Excerpt)》


 Prologue

    Everyone cheered the day the world ended. Everyone cheered the day he saved the world. I did not. Which would have left my family and me as corpses entangled on the barbed wire gate that segregated us from those reborn, carcasses whose breaths reeked of the waste water that snaked beneath our streets into the former ¨¦astanacsa, or worse, eternally darkened like most who were not born anew.


    But I rescued people, saved them from a fate that eclipsed death. Fast. Efficiently. And in this reborn world, speed kept you alive, and gave you a chance to die. Speed, and a willingness to work for those who thought you worse than garbage, or a traitor, even if they were those you cared about the most. But I had embraced that fate. My family was worth the burns and scars. My friends, the taunts and rumors. The peace and safety we had attained still pulsed as the now ?dsceaftebyht on whose recently arisen shores I stood upon.


    For now at least.


    Because the man who had saved our world had a tendency to wreck lives, families, even of those next to him, at the behest of progress, rebirth. But I would not let my family be reborn. My little sister Ellie had not suffered a bullet through her spine just to be reborn and lose everything she ever fought for. We ever fought for. I refused to believe that. I would not accept that fate. God would have helped me. I still held the hooks, baits, and nets in this renewed world.


    Or at least I hoped I did.


    The day the world ended, the day he saved the world, back when fire still did not rain upon our souls, was not when Yellowstone erupted. Not when the lands quaked and the nuclear power plants exploded. Not when the pandemic struck. Not when the crops and livestock withered and died. But when the Chairman spoke, the man who saved our Earthly lives, at the expense of those to come.


    The Chairman faced the riverside remnants from where the pillar of his nightmarish dream would ascend to protect us all, standing at the top of the Hyhtwynn Tower¡¯s highest roofed arch, still mantled by Yellowstone¡¯s ash, in front of the building''s spired windows, so that it seemed sunlight glinted from his arms and not the sky. Commanding the granite gargoyles at his feet, so that it seemed the elements acquiesced to his will and not that of God. Watching, staring at the insects beneath him, unfazed by the gales of such heights, so that it seemed he was a deity, even to his own son, who kneeled next to him. Waiting.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The Chairman had projected his hologram on the few smartwatches that remained. So all of humanity¡¯s last hope could watch him. But none of the surviving huddled masses that had swarmed the Hyhtwynn¡¯s base watched the hologram projection. They all gazed at the real him. Despaired. Wishing for a new savior. Looking for someone to grant them hope, even if the Heavens fell.


    And he did. To the point that even the winds turned into a summer¡¯s zephyr, and the sun¡¯s light cowered in presence of his voice.


    ¡°You are in belief of our world¡¯s demise,¡± the Chairman said. Charming. Calm. But with a void in his eyes that made you think he was talking to maggots instead of people. ¡°Of hope¡¯s dissolution. Of resignation¡¯s inevitability. Of this great nation¡¯s long gone glories. Of our capitulation to the European Federation and the Sino-Indian Confederacy.¡± He lost his coolness in that last phrase, but no one must have noticed. Too dejected to care.


    ¡°But I say to you: there is hope.¡± The Chairman¡¯s voice, an arctic thunder blast that resonated as loud as the now silent wails of those he would slaughter, to the point a microphone would have humanized him. And he could not have that.


    As the crowds had already deified him.


    I had not. I did not.


    ¡°This nation shall ascend from the ashes that buried its cities, and the radiation that polluted its waters and skies. This world may have extinguished, languished, but a new one has ascended, from the tremors of the past. So let us hope for our future, our future that is now, our future that is our present, and become the founders of our rebirth.¡±


    He shoved his son into the street, only for him to levitate in the last three seconds and land safely. Everyone watched. Awed.


    The Chairman then plunged into the crowds who yearned for him, only to hover above them all, unreachable. ¡°Behold. Our rebirth, my fellow friends, the present future, Eugenex.¡±


    Eugenex. What it meant to be reborn. What it meant to stop believing in God, and forever damaging the brain regions linked to religious beliefs. What it meant to cheer for tyranny, and a fate that dwarfed death.


    How easily people forgot.


    Our world may have rested on a powder keg before, before the Chairman saved us all, but at least we were in control, at least we held the matches. At least, I was in control. Now, though, we had handed away our matches, and ceded control of our lives, of our fates, to him. And he could have set off the blast whenever he wanted.


    Or at least, that¡¯s what we wanted to believe. To comfort us. Because our prayers were long gone, and we just hoped for the god we knew.


    But that was not the case.


    <hr>


    Hi there! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 1: The Day that Marked the End

    I should have slept in. Listened to my tiredness. At least for an hour and forty-seven minutes. Wouldn¡¯t have started the Apocalypse if I had. But the gravels had pummeled my mind. Forced me to wake up and go smuggle food and clean water to the Zielkkenhomville associated to my district¡ªofficially United States of the North, Wessex Capital Region Tenement Number 3, because those who lived there did not deserve a name, at least in the mind of the Chairman. The gravels, and my little siblings Ellie and Tim. They were strong enough to go on their own, but I didn¡¯t want Tim to wheel Ellie alone to a terrorist hotbed, especially given my reputation among them. I knew the bastards were capable of killing innocent teens, children even.


    Worst part was that if I had told them I was tired, not even that, if I had told them I wanted to sleep, perhaps they¡¯d have chosen not to go. In solidarity. Because they were kind like that. But the ville¡¯s orphanage had already gone without clean water for three days. One of the kids and a teacher had already died of dysentery even. And I didn¡¯t want to be responsible for any more needless deaths.


    I had already accepted my mission, the light yoke of my cross, but I would never be able to get rid of that thought. That I had set off the end of the world. Stupid mosquitoes of the mind. Never slept.


    It was the first time the lights had gone out in Tenement Number 3 and its surrounding areas, but the local council was carrying out some renovations at the biomass power plant south of the capital, so I thought nothing of the lightless neighborhoods that encroached us. And, as every other day, raw Eugenex gunk streamed its stench and verdant currents from the Eugenex Manufacturing Facility up in Pearfan?g all the way to the tenement. Almost mechanically. As consistently as the foul tempests that purified our air from the radiation that engulfed us before the Day of Rebirth, and crashed into the hundred meter wide barbed wire gate that imprisoned the ville and severed it as a mountainous abyss, which gave birth to two cities within a city, two worlds within a world, where the smashes of the wind at least gave a sound, a voice, to those who could not speak, to those whose lives were not worth a voice. Every other hour the purified air knocked. Always. It brought me peace of mind, actually. Because you could know when things would stink, at least in the Natural section of the ville, the Enhanced one enjoyed scented air, but I had gotten used to the stench by that point. And so had my siblings Ellie and Tim. The people living there, not so much.


    Our national flag, waved gallantly in the ville, pillared right in the center of the Natural section, so it would always remind them of what they missed. One onyx arrow and four orange ones clutched by the claws of a white wyvern against a crimson field that burst into the arrows as tributaries into a delta. Meant to represent the unity of the five classes that made up our nation. And the hope that someday, the Naturals would become Enhanceds as well. And that we would one day, return to the homeland across the pond.


    I did not know about the last hope, but we would definitely not become Enhanceds. Eugenex would not slither through our veins. I would make sure of that.


    The Natural section of St. Cruithnech¨¢n of Hope¡ªhow I had named the tenement because of its proximity to a cemetery that shared the name¡ªhoused the Naturals God had not blessed with the winning tickets for the R¨ªcedryht, or People¡¯s Fortune, the national lottery that determined which Naturals would live in the districts, like mine, and enjoy clean water, food, and electricity, and which would remain subject to the villes¡¯ buildings, decaying carcasses of concrete where light didn¡¯t enter, as light was of the Enhanceds. Windowless shells of hopeful people, with their mouths filled with waste water, as clean water was of the Enhanceds.


    Though, these days, sadly, in a few cases, hope was not coming from God.


    I would remedy that.


    Ellie, Tim, and I sauntered to the orphanage, jumping past the waste water rivers and raw Eugenex currents that coursed its littered streets as natural waterways, eyes fixed straight ahead so we did not look at the graffiti that encased the ville¡¯s low-story buildings. At least not more than we should have. I had taught them about situational awareness, being aware of your surroundings at all times. At first they bothered me, revolting drawings of me, the best of which were those who called me traitor¡ªand not even my mom got spared¡ªbut now I had gotten used to them. They didn¡¯t worry me.


    The war ones did.


    Those that clamored: Cael¡¯s Law is not enough. Liberty awaits those who fight!


    I heard Tim murmur the last sentence, but it didn¡¯t worry me. He wouldn¡¯t join the terrorists.


    Three minutes and eleven seconds later, we arrived at the orphanage. Everyone happy to see us. Though some shivering from the lack of heating sources, braving the particularly cold gusts of winter¡¯s arrival. I always made sure to help them first, because I knew Ellie and Tim could have ended up there, had my mom not agreed to adopt them, with no one to spare them from dysentery and hunger.


    We had adopted Ellie when she was seven, orphaned by Yellowstone, forsaken and blinded by the pandemic, about to die of hunger, but still trusting God, still at peace, and not afraid to die. She¡¯d have gone instantly to Heaven, I knew. She still trusted Him, and didn¡¯t let everything that had happened harden her heart, her soul. Even now at thirteen, still insisting on wheeling herself everywhere, Ellie was kind and caring, with a melodious voice, long cinnamon hair, and arms strong enough to haul a bag of rice at least fifteen seconds away. Wheat was no longer a staple.


    We had adopted Tim when he was ten, orphaned by the post-pandemic economic collapse that annihilated the old world, and brought about the new one. He could have lost his soul had I not helped him. And despite his protests, I knew he¡¯d have also gone to Heaven the second he died. Saints tended to think themselves the worst of sinners. Tim was a lanky, fourteen year old with black wavy hair and hints of a beard, whose brains and ease with technology rivaled even that of Enhanced PhD¡¯s, though that didn¡¯t stop him from complaining that his voice wasn¡¯t as deep as he¡¯d have liked.


    Neither of them winced at my face, nor did those in the ville. Angular with a medium jaw, mantled by the scars my job brought about. Made my face look as if I had dunk it in scorching oil. I had thought about skin grafts before, but new scars would have again burned my skin, so it¡¯d have been a waste of time and money. And my family didn¡¯t care. Neither did my friends.


    And quite frankly, I didn¡¯t either.


    Though I wondered if some of the ville¡¯s people would have killed us if we didn¡¯t save them from hunger, thirst, and dysentery. Those whom terrorists had deluded into supporting them.


    Usually I¡¯d have been with Ellie and Tim, helping them hand out the food and water, but now I could just protect them from afar in dim cold. Because the gate that severed the tenement had shut its doors a full two and a half seconds earlier than usual, crushing someone who couldn¡¯t make it in time. I could hear his shattered bones. Absolute were the gates in their judgment. Regardless of anyone trapped inside their guts. I guessed sensors were not worth an Impure life, the lowest among the Enhanceds. Sole class that lived alongside Naturals. Only the Enhanceds were allowed free passage in and out of the tenement.


    I wanted to rip the gates myself and remove the remains, if only so their stench did not engulf the ville, and compounded to the misery, but I just pretended I had heard a tree trunk being compressed. Not because I was callous or anything of the sort, but because that two second difference meant the bastard terrorists must have tampered with the gate. And I could not let sadness cloud my awareness. Not when they could strike at any second. Not when they might have been expecting me to go rush help someone.


    I had told Ellie and Tim to notice anything out of the ordinary, but I still wanted to sprint toward them and warn them. That the Harmonists had¡ª


    Gunfire echoed from a nearby building. Terrorists escaped as cockroaches from an exterminator. Our soldiers shot at them. Secured their hidden weapons. Corpses clattered against the street. Made waves of the waste water rivers. A sight that should have petrified me, but they were terrorists. And they¡¯d have killed their own mothers if their dear leader ordered them to. Had just seen them crush an innocent Impure. So I felt nothing as I saw them perish.


    ¡°Ellie, Tim,¡± I yelled. ¡°Go inside. Take care of everyone. I¡¯ll be there soon.¡±


    But then I caught sight my friend. My best friend, Samuel Gieves. Not with the soldiers as I had hoped, even if I loathed the idea, because it was better than the truth. That the friend who had saved my mom and me when we first arrived as refugees from the European Federation was working with terrorists. That the friend who hid me and my mom until Zielkkenhom granted all refugees permission to stay in the country, though at a price, was working with those who would have killed me if they had the chance.


    Samuel sprinted past the soldiers and crashed into me. Medium build, broad jaw, five seconds taller than me, and with straight raven black hair, I didn¡¯t think he could run that fast, but new circumstances brought shattered limits. Sometimes.


    ¡°Cael, please,¡± he muttered. Fright in his voice, though he didn¡¯t turn to glance at the soldiers, so I didn¡¯t think that was what brought terror into his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later, but for now ¡­¡± He glanced at an alleyway nearby where he could hide.


    I shoved him aside to protect him from incoming shots. ¡°Terrorists, Samuel?¡± I wanted to yell at him, punch him even, but I had seen the scars Zielkkenhom¡¯s rebirth had brought about in his face, his body. Though I couldn¡¯t justify him helping them, I could understand why Samuel would. Somewhat. So I just said, ¡°I¡¯ll stall. Go.¡± Hoped it was enough time to hide, as a soldier already encroached upon us.


    I thought Samuel would have stayed silent, but he just picked up a knapsack and said, as coolly as if he had stated a fact, ¡°The Harmonists are not mere terrorists.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The Harmonists. Officially the Society of Harmonious Friends United in Constitutional Righteousness. The name Freedom¡¯s Voice, their supreme leader, had granted his rabid sycophants. And though Samuel was my friend, I could not consider the Harmonists freedom fighters.


    Freedom fighters didn¡¯t massacre innocent people.


    I thought the advancing soldier would have detained me upon sight, or questioned me about Samuel, but he first stopped to pick up some energy bar wrappers, various plastics and litters, as well as other wrappings of sorts the Impures tossed from their spacious subsidized apartments into the Natural section of the ville, and placed them in their respective recycling bins. Gloveless. As he knew I would not escape if it meant forsaking Samuel.


    Only one soldier I knew would deign to help the Naturals like that. And he tended to make grand entrances when he could, though not out of vanity, but to showcase the magnificence of Zielkkenhom¡¯s Eugenex.


    ¡°Cael Cavanaugh, I suppose you were not in agreement of Samuel Gieves¡¯ use of your national ID card to purchase high-grade military weaponry for terrorists?¡± soldier Tygo ¨¢gneshl¨¢fordhylde declared. Stately. Hovering some five seconds above the tenement¡¯s gate. White thorns streaked Tygo¡¯s onyx hair spikes, with an athletic build and strength that could rival even that of the highest Enhanced class, even though he was an Esne, the class that made up most of the military¡ªthe ¨¢nwealdesbord, or Royal Shield¡ªand which replaced the police when Zielkkenhom announced his Age of Rebirth. Tygo could even hurl a 500 pound kettlebell as if it were a potato, but his perpetually slouched posture with flexed knees made him look shorter and less imposing than he could have been.


    Lean, muscular, agile, though not as much as Tygo, the Esneas monitored the surface, and kept tabs on the lower classes, among other functions. I always made sure to be on their best graces, which helped when you had to break the law to smuggle clean water into the Zielkkenhomvilles, and needed them to pretend you had done nothing. They tended to be more like Naturals and Impures than Achroites. I liked them.


    Though Tygo knew he could participate in Zielkkenhom¡¯s program for distinguished citizens to opt for a subsidized supply of a higher grade Eugenex than his own, he wanted to remain an Esne. By his honor he¡¯d have not progressed through the classes. ¡°In a corrupt society, only the unjust advance,¡± Tygo told me once. Committed to protecting his country in the trenches. Not in the comfy chairs of the politicians¡¯ high rises.


    ¡°So what if I did?¡± I guessed I should have told Tygo the truth. I didn¡¯t want to lose him as an ally. I needed as many Enhanceds as possible to back my plans. But agreeing to Tygo¡¯s absolute justice, a rarity among the Enhanceds, meant betraying Samuel. Meant betraying my friend. Tygo was also my friend. But Samuel had saved my life. Tygo had not. And Tygo was not at risk of joining the Harmonists. Not by a long shot. Samuel was. I knew who I would protect.


    ¡°It is unlawful to arm Harmonists and their sympathizers,¡± Tygo said. ¡°The mandatory minimum is forty years in prison up to execution at Zee Gevangenis.¡± His voice solemn, though with a stab of remorse, as if he did not believed his conscientiously memorized words. At least I hoped that was the reason.


    I leaned back against a graffiti-sprayed wall, and darted a glance at the waste-filled alleys that streamed through the Zielkkenhomville.


    It was for them.


    My hands on my pockets, legs wide, and my expression one of arrogance, as if it inhabited my veins, as if I were one of them, with money as my idol. A snow spear spiked my veins. At the thought I could feign pride so well.


    ¡°You can charge me if you want, Tygo.¡± I said, voice oozing pride, a bitter aftertaste soiling my throat. ¡°But I don¡¯t know what judge or prosecutor will sentence the only Class A+ bridger who charges them reduced rates.¡± I shot a glance at Tygo¡¯s colleagues removing the terrorists¡¯ corpses after the shootout. ¡°And I don¡¯t know how your fellow guard buddies will react when they find out you imprisoned the only Class A+ bridger who charges them nothing for his bridging services.¡± Poor choice of words. Tygo didn¡¯t care about the opinion of others. For better or for worse. So I changed tactics. Though still with that bitter aftertaste in my throat, which I thought would have vanished by now, I added, ¡°And I can still call a mass strike.¡±


    A mass bridger strike I meant. The sole mention of which made Tygo wince, and his face turn into a statue dozens of ice spikes had slashed. He even leaped toward me.


    I thought Tygo would have backed down. I thought he¡¯d have let go. But he¡¯d have died by his honor. I didn¡¯t mind, though, because at least Samuel was safe. Because at least he¡¯d have his freedom and his life, just as he preserved my mom¡¯s and mine.


    ¡°When I signed up for the ¨¢nwealdesbord,¡± he said. ¡°I made a duty to follow the law. I made it my life¡¯s mission to safeguard the peace, stability, and social cohesion of the United States of the North.¡± That last part the military¡¯s motto. Tygo¡¯s eyes glinted hope, pride of the good kind. Not the haughtiness I pretended to have. Not the usual pride that streamed through Enhanced veins. Most Enhanced veins. ¡°And it is not beneficial, nor just, for a political system, for a society, when power resides in the hands of the few, be they royals or emperors, oligarchs in a pseudo-democracy¡ª¡± He shot a glare at me. ¡°¡ªor civilians with excessive influence over judicial and political matters.¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m the civilian in your example.¡±


    Tygo stepped back. Crossed the waste waterway at our feet. He must not have wanted to be friends with an oligarch. A well of sadness compressed my chest. So I stood up and walked toward him. ¡°You have to follow the law, I know, and that¡¯s why I oppose the blood-soaked vengeance the Harmonists want to impose upon us,¡± I said. ¡°But some laws are unjust, and there¡¯s no law against helping others. There¡¯s no law against saving lives. There¡¯s no law against¡ª¡±


    ¡°Would you go so far, Cael,¡± Tygo said. Anxious, more than enraged. ¡°As to defend a terrorist because you consider him a friend?¡±


    ¡°Samuel¡¯s not a terrorist,¡± I shot. As confidently as I could. As if saying it strongly could convince myself it couldn¡¯t be true. ¡°If he is, I¡¯ll hand him in myself.¡±


    Tygo sneered. ¡°I trust you, but I don¡¯t believe you on this.¡±


    I guessed he had a point. Deep down, I still didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d have done if Samuel was working with the Harmonists. But I needed to find out. Soon. Before it was too late. ¡°You¡¯re honorable, Tygo. Your virtue is your strength. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t buy you with Eugenex or free bridging services as I can do with your comrades, but I will not stop smuggling food and clean water just because it¡¯s against the law. I¡¯m not going to sell out the friend who saved my life because you think he¡¯s a terrorist.¡± I paused a second, so the wind blasted the words into Tygo¡¯s mind. ¡°And I know you believe there should not be laws against Naturals. I know you think some laws are unjust.¡±


    Tygo shifted his gaze at the street for a second, as if he did not want to admit I had read his mind. ¡°That might be the case, Cael, but we don¡¯t get to choose whic¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all the Chairman¡¯s pawns until we reform the system for good. So we¡¯re all treated the same under the law.¡± I extended my arm at him. ¡°Justice is not absolute. Okay, dr¨²t?¡±


    Dr¨²t. Friend.


    Tygo and I shook hands. Our smartwatches the only light amidst the darkness that engulfed us. ¡°I understand your position, but I¡¯ll have to charge you anyway, if you insist on taking the blame for Samuel Gieves. Smuggling and illegal arms dealing.¡± He remained silent for three seconds, but then he chuckled and sighed, and said, ¡°Though I hope the judge who reviews your case is lenient.¡±


    I smiled back at him. Samuel was safe.


    Raw Eugenex stench lingered with the purified air, but Tygo didn¡¯t seem distraught. ¡°I would not want you to end up jailed,¡± he said. ¡°Your sister should not suffer anymore, though I think she could handle it better than you.¡±


    Relief made its home in my veins when I saw I hadn¡¯t lost Tygo. Or at least it didn¡¯t seem that way. But Tygo wasn¡¯t one to lie. Or try to conceal his emotions. That¡¯s one of the things that separated him from the other Enhanceds. ¡°She¡¯s a resilient one,¡± I said. ¡°Her joy real, not a mask for the world.¡±


    Disbelief burst in Tygo¡¯s face, but before he could ask more questions, he saw his platoon struggle to carry the corpses that remained in their operation¡¯s aftermath.


    ¡°God,¡± I said. ¡°In case you wondered about the source of Ellie¡¯s joy.¡±


    Pikes of confusion punctured Tygo¡¯s face, who must have thought of Ellie and I as na?ve fools, but he stood still for a second, thinking, that perhaps our foolishness was more truthful than the Chairman¡¯s r¨ªceabl?d, the People¡¯s Spirit. Zielkkenhom¡¯s ideology, his vision for the world, and our national spirit.


    He then marched back to his fellow soldiers, his now family, as was expected of any Esne. Which is why I had never heard Tygo mention his blood family before. Or at least I hoped that was why. But not even the purified air gusts could drown Tygo¡¯s platoon¡¯s grumbles. About the raw Eugenex stink perhaps, but most likely because he had survived. Tygo always halted unnecessary beatings and unwarranted tortures, except when he thought them necessary. But still, Tygo was one of the few Enhanceds I could trust.


    With Tygo no longer in sight, and Ellie and Tim hunkered down safely in the orphanage, I skulked behind Samuel and pressed my foot against his hand right before he picked up a grenade he had tossed in the waste waters that drowned our feet. Shock in his face. Loss in his balance. Clatter of seven grenades crashed into the waters from his dropped knapsack. Thank God not activated.


    Samuel knew that to be an efficient bridger, you needed swift reflexes. That, and exceptional senses. So I didn¡¯t know why he thought I wouldn¡¯t catch him. Or any Enhanced soldier who didn¡¯t believe Tygo¡¯s report for that matter.


    ¡°So of all people, I¡¯m the one you stop?¡± Samuel stepped back, faced me. His feet now out of the waste water stream. ¡°Figures.¡±


    ¡°I just saved you from rotting in prison, execution most likely, you ¡­¡± Rage pulsed through my veins, ingratitude tended to irk me, even though I knew I wasn¡¯t supposed to do things expecting a thank you, but it vanished when I saw Samuel¡¯s face. Dejected. And he hadn¡¯t even sneered at that last comment. So I stepped toward him, kindly. ¡°Did something happen? To you? Mildred?¡±


    Samuel suppressed a step back, but I had noticed the shift in his facial expression. And a slight drop in the shoulders. Less than a quarter of a second.


    Grief pummeled my heart. Samuel¡¯s wife Mildred was just four years older than me. And she gleamed as the moon in a starless sky. She assisted in orphanages, hospitals, shelters for people with lifelong illnesses. Always with a smile. Always with a motherly disposition. And treated everyone the same, Natural or Enhanced. Which is why she was helping me in the reforms I wanted to pass.


    The last one did not go so well.


    ¡°Samuel, if something happened to Mildred, I¡ª¡± My smartwatch rang, to a familiar tune.


    ¡°A job request,¡± Samuel said, trying to suppress a smirk because I couldn¡¯t interrogate him further. ¡°You should get going, amicus. A Fengel request. You wouldn¡¯t want to lose a point in your rank.¡±


    I wanted to talk to him. Ask him what had happened. Console him if he had lost his wife, but if I didn¡¯t take the call, I could have set back my plan for months, maybe more. All days the Harmonists could have used to brainwash more people into supporting their stupidity, more time for them to convince Samuel. And if he had just lost the love of his life, the only woman he ever loved, then they could have brainwashed him to do anything.


    Sometimes a broken heart was the worst weapon of all.


    So I just said, ¡°Don¡¯t lose your soul, a mhac. I¡¯ll talk to you after I return.¡±


    After I return. Those last words, an axe to my mind. Because bridging never stopped. Not even to save your own.


    I didn¡¯t want to leave Ellie and Tim alone in a terrorist den, but I knew them strong enough to defend themselves if they had to. Besides, the lights had returned, brighter than ever, so it was safe now. Safer. And Samuel had vowed he¡¯d take care of them while I was gone. And I trusted him.


    So I leaped into my smartwatch, into the Bridge, into the job request that led to the Apocalypse.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 2: The Bridge, Purgatory of Scorching Ice

    The Bridge was brighter than usual, scattered lights all over. And that meant I could not miscalculate. Not even by an attosecond. But I liked the challenge. Was why I had trained to become a Class A+ bridger. Well, that, and doing what I thought God wanted me to do.


    Being a Class A+ bridger meant I carried a genetic mutation brought about by the long extinct mineral from which Eugenex was derived that allowed me to virtualize my own body instead of relying on a downloadable copy of my genetic code, that I could drift faster than any firewall and hover quicker than any antivirus, and that snow spears always slashed my soul whenever I felt so at ease in the purgatory of scorching ice that was the Bridge. Felt as if you submerged yourself in liquid nitrogen. Swam in space without a spacesuit. Temperature so cold that it charred your skin. Seared it every time. Scarred me even, though I had come to expect it by now. So nocturnal that not even the lights that danced on the horizon enhanced my sight. Couldn¡¯t even see my hand. And even then, the light bursts of people¡¯s virtual copies entering or leaving the virtual world flashed faster than sailfish, so I had to be on my senses to notice them, or if that failed, hear them, because that was my only compass.


    Sound, the sound of those voices vibrating in my ears. Until they went noiseless. And you went mad from silence. Or returned to the real world. If you could make it in time, that was.


    Because in the Bridge, you did not have the blessing of dying. Only the threat of getting trapped if a glitch occurred. The threat of a fate worse than death. The threat of forever living as a data packet, not dead, though not alive either. A lifeless entity inside the network that connected the real world to VirtuaNet, a popular online world of sorts where you could attain whatever you lacked in real life, and live a life as real as life itself, except better in the eyes of the world, free from pain, suffering.


    As long as you paid the fees, of course.


    But they had a free version available, for Naturals and Impures, and even Esneas who couldn¡¯t afford the paid upgrades. Anyone who wished to waste their lives in a virtual world while the real one waned into nothingness.


    But I couldn¡¯t be too mad at them, though. And it wasn¡¯t really their fault. Or of Lezavre Corporation, the company that founded and maintained VirtuaNet. It was the Harmonists¡¯ doing. They had a tendency to hack into Lezavre¡¯s systems and increase the frequency of the glitches that trapped people. But as callous as it seemed, they kept me employed.


    That was my job. Bridging. Saving people from getting trapped in the Bridge. Enhanceds mostly. The rich ones. Was what kept my family safe. With food. Clean water. Decent housing. Electricity. Everything they needed to live a dignified life. My family, and the tens of thousands of Naturals who lived in the districts, bridger districts. The Autonomous Cities the Non-Enhanced Defense Act had brought about, each administered by a bridger. Each an island of bright prosperity and peaceful living in a sea of lightless misery and violent apathy.


    So I guessed the bridger gene was God¡¯s blessing, even if sometimes it ripped your soul and lacerated your heart. Robbed you of peace. When you failed to save someone. When due to your misdirection, your miscalculation, someone ended up merged with the Bridge. Forever turned into a data packet. Was like biting into a raw potato, unwashed and unpeeled. Tasted like dirt. That¡¯s what the Bridge felt like at times, as if you chewed on ground ice flames.


    Especially because Aisha Lexington and I didn¡¯t end up in speaking terms after signing the Non-Enhanced Defense Act. And neither did the National Bridger Association and I. My fault, really. But I still hoped Aisha would speak to me again.


    I trusted her.


    I hovered through the Bridge, dodging the lights of people moving, so I did not stop their transport, and kept track of the time in my head. Thirty seconds had passed. Thirty-one seconds. Thirty-two seconds. Thirty-three. That was the only way of surviving in the Bridge. Becoming a human chronometer. All bridgers were. Because if not, your body would merge with the Bridge in five minutes, and you¡¯d end up trapped forever as a data packet. The same thing happened in VirtuaNet, but it took much longer. Millennia. In the Bridge, just five minutes. So you couldn¡¯t just save someone at the four minute fifty-nine second mark and then escape. Because you had to factor into account the time it took you to return to your entrance, which then became your exit. Or until you found a new exit route. Unless someone used a network device, which created an automatic exit passage wherever you were, right into the user¡¯s smartwatch. But that almost never happened.


    Still, though, being a bridger had its advantages. The best one being that glitches could not affect you. Glitches could not trap you. Only your sloth. Or zealousness. But I wasn¡¯t going to lose my eternity in Heaven with the Lord, in eternal bliss, for an Enhanced.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Or at least that¡¯s what I told myself to pretend I didn¡¯t care that much about the Enhanceds, but I knew I¡¯d have risked merging with the Bridge to save anyone, even avaricious Enhanceds who had ordered Naturals killed for dirtying their clothes.


    Sure, on the outside it was because I could charge for insane amounts of money to help the poor, or for their support in reforming the Non-Enhanced Defense Act, so every Natural could be free, but deep down, I guessed I didn¡¯t want them to be abandoned. To be forsook as nothing. That¡¯s why I tried to save everyone who requested my services. Even those vile beings who massacred innocents deserved a second chance. That¡¯s why I thought bridging was honorable.


    But then again, I saw how things worked in the real world, and remembered what my brother had always told me. Before the Harmonists robbed him from me. That I was too na?ve for my own good.


    One minute forty-seconds had passed. One minute forty-one seconds. One minute forty-two. One minute forty-three. And still no sight of the trapped Enhanced. Ivore, member of the Fengel class, though not a particularly valued one, as he was not specialized. Regular Fenglas comprised most middle management positions in private and public affairs, ran successful consulting companies, and took care of the country¡¯s administrative functions, with builds that ranged from lean to athletic, never fat, and IQs averaging 140 points, but in the eyes of the highest class, regular Fenglas would just be their mediocre pawns, unable to fulfill the highly-regarded duties the specialized Fenglas carried out.


    I hovered ahead but turned left to dodge something, something that shot ice blades through my nerves, an antivirus. Because it wasn¡¯t enough that you had to risk your eternal salvation every time you saved someone trapped. You also had to deal with antivirus that clawed at you and slowed you down, since the Bridge thought of all bridgers as viruses that tried to hack the system. And in the Bridge, an eighth of a second could have been the difference between life and dead, rather ¡­ real life and virtual life. That¡¯d have been more accurate. And I¡¯d have rather had real life. Any time.


    But the worst part was the firewalls. Sleet gashed my veins when I thought about them. They could appear anywhere. And if one caught you, you had to pray for a miracle to be able to escape its pressure.


    Sometimes I thought if perhaps it was better to be outside, working as a street cleaner. Hungry, thirsty, but esteemed among friends, with knowledge that you wouldn¡¯t be forsook, eternally virtualized. But I didn¡¯t like depending on others, so I always ended up returning to the Bridge, where I felt at ease, even more than in the real world. Still, blades of ice lacerated me whenever I thought of that.


    Two minutes ten seconds. Two minutes eleven seconds. Two minutes thirteen seconds. And still no sight or noise of Ivore. I usually stopped searching at the three-minute thirty seconds mark. And always at four. Because of the consequences of being in the Bridge for too long. Because if I made a single exception, then my soul would have forced me to make exceptions for everyone. And I would not anguish my family like that.


    I thought about turning and leaving. Before my mark. The first time I ever had. Forsaking him would¡¯ve just deducted a point, and I¡¯d still have been Class A+. Wouldn¡¯t have affected my ranking at all. And an ice blade sleeted my veins, because I saw myself returning to the real world, but gravity tightened my chest when I thought that. Must have been just a fleeting thought. Because I knew better. Because people weren¡¯t mere points. They were human beings. Created with dignity. Who deserved dignity. Not being treated as something worth less than a pet. Because not even they were forgotten so easily.


    And then again, if I fled, if I forsook Ivore, I¡¯d have died. Not physically. But spiritually. Which squirmed my soul more than mortal death. Until I felt I had none. Which had blasted my lungs as shoals against a coral reef. To the point I could not breathe. And I remembered the wails. I would not live through that again.


    So I remained in the Bridge, about to save Ivore, even if I was saving the Naturals¡¯ oppressors. Though calling the Fenglas oppressors was a stretch. It was more the Achroites, the highest class. The masters of the world. The young men, all tall and athletic. The old men, all stately and princely. The young women, all with perfect curves and lustrous skin. The older women, all regal and with skin as smooth as that of their younger peers. All CEOs and tycoons of business and finance with IQs well over 170 and an emotional intelligence so high that they controlled the President and his cabinet as puppeteers, and had deluded the lower classes into thinking they were better than them, but that they had their best interests at heart and that, given the appropriate inputs, the lower classes could one day aspire to afford Achroite Eugenex, and become a deity in human form as well. And yet, those superhuman Achroites were the ones I had to rescue the most. Or at least I used to, before the ratification of the Non-Enhanced Defense Act.


    Two minutes fifty-one seconds had passed. Two minutes fifty-two. Two minutes fifty-three. I drifted ahead, and then I heard something¡ªa voice, a human voice. I raced toward it, as if racing for the crown that didn¡¯t rot. But I shouldn¡¯t have. I had made a mistake. First time in two years. Guessed my mind was still in the wails of Wexford. I hadn¡¯t heard Ivore. But something else. Something that paled in comparison to a horde of antiviruses. Something that pulsed a blizzard through my blood.


    A firewall.


    And I had hovered right into it.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 3: Firewall

    I had trained for firewalls before, what protected VirtuaNet, but I had never faced them. No one had. No one still on the real world to share his story.


    Until now.


    Ice blades sliced my burnt scars, because even though the firewall was this mammoth pillar of flames, it felt like liquid nitrogen blasted through your veins, so you could even feel your blood cease its pulse. It clouted my chest with the strength of Samson and dragged me upward in an endless ascent.


    It chiseled in me even more the fact that the Bridge was like that searing ice finale I would not end up in. Not in the virtual world. And much less in the real world. God-willing. And I could see Ivore past the wall. I prayed for strength and didn¡¯t panic. I remembered my training. I knew what I had to do. I had gone over and over it a million times before.


    Two minutes-fifty seven seconds had passed. Two minutes fifty-eight. Two minutes fifty-nine. Three minutes. My time to stop soon came. And my feet were beginning to merge. But I wasn¡¯t going to forsake Ivore to save myself. I wasn¡¯t going to write another name in my notepad. I had promised myself that. And I wasn¡¯t one to break promises.


    I did what my bridger teacher had taught me to do. I extended my left arm as far as I could, even though I couldn¡¯t reach the firewall¡¯s edge, and clawed my fingers right into it, as if I wanted to dredge the Log Na Coille and hollow its rocks with my own hands. And just then an array of light bursts pulsed from the firewall in all directions, like a shoal of krill. Which struck a light blaze, and punctured my skin, but it was the brightest it had ever been in the Bridge. I could see my hands. And even VirtuaNet in the horizon. And it reminded me of my hometown, of Wexford.


    But the pain jolted me back to reality. Thankfully. The Bridge might have been virtual, but the pain sure was real. It hurt. But I was used to pain by now. Besides, someone¡¯s salvation was at stake. Ivore should have had the opportunity to go to Heaven, at least, even if he wasted it. Not lose it because I could not endure some pain.


    I then thrust my left arm back, still clawed to the firewall, and forced myself ahead. Burrowed my right hand into the firewall. And I opened the left one. The only reason I did not bleed was because I hovered through the Bridge. I then did the same with my right hand and kept going until I had arrived at the end of the firewall, until my left hand, which I couldn¡¯t keep open, which I had to keep shut to endure the agony, lay in the emptiness of the Bridge, not the goethite interior of the firewall. And then, in one last feat of strength, I thrust myself ahead with my right hand and I was back into the emptiness of the lit Bridge.


    But I couldn¡¯t even take a deep breath. Three minutes forty-seconds had elapsed. Three minutes forty-three. Three minutes forty-four. Three minutes forty-five. And my legs were merging. But it was worth it. The pain, the agony, the risk. Because I was in front of Ivore. I swam toward him, snatched his arm, and began searching for an exit, because I couldn¡¯t cross that firewall again.


    Three minutes fifty-one. Three minutes fifty-two. Three minutes fifty-three. And still no new exit. Any smartwatch would have sufficed, but it needed to be habilitated as a bridger exit point. Few people did. And the thought pelted me; that I was going to lose my salvation for a murderer. But I just began to pray. I wasn¡¯t going to lose my salvation. I was not. That¡¯s what I told myself. Four minutes had passed. And I saw a light blaze in the horizon. A brief burst. An exit. Thank God.


    I swam toward it. Prayed it wasn¡¯t an illusion. And it wasn¡¯t. It was real. Completely. Real. I hovered into it and I was back, we were back in the real world. Thank God. I always thanked Him when I returned to the real world, because you never knew when it was going to be your last time in the Bridge. Forever.


    It usually took me two seconds to register I had returned to the real world, and adjust my senses to the bustles of the world. Today it took me one. I guessed rage enhanced your reaction time. Rage, and bridging into a VirtuaNet studio.


    I saw the fliting lights. I heard the classical music. I smelled the artificial apple-wine fragrance. Everything to comfort my senses, but I just thought them an oomycete bosomed by a nascent Rooster crop yet to show symptoms, as they always punctured my Bridge-adapted senses, which is why I preferred the stillness of the Bridge, and the odd soothing quality of its voices. Most bridgers preferred other noises, though.


    I didn¡¯t like admitting it, but any other Enhanced would have made it seem haphazard and ineffective. Only Zielkkenhom and his ministerial Tussenvolken¡¯s rational creativity could have devised such an ordered chaos of elements designed to short-circuit your senses, to the point that even a void room of white concrete walls could seem like an art palace. A palace you didn¡¯t want to wreck, but that would consume you if you did not carry extra flasks of olive oil. A palace that had already consumed so many, as I could even hear footsteps from people approaching. Naturals and Impures most likely, ready to waste their meager government aid in a dream.


    But I guessed that was the point of it all, though. To force your focus onto VirtuaNet. To make you forget about the real world. A goal both Zielkkenhom and the Harmonists shared, apparently, because neither spoke ill of VirtuaNet addiction. Same rotten thing, both of them. That¡¯s why I¡¯d have taken the narrow road, and gutted my own path. I just hoped for the better.


    Rarer than spotting a Killarney shad, as they spent their days voluntarily locked in the Propaganda Department, save when they vacationed in VirtuaNet, the Tussenvolken were multi-pigmented lean slaves who looked as if an expressionist tried his hand at body paint. Their Eugenex enhanced their creativity, though at the cost of their critical thinking skills, and altered their melanin so that their skin color constantly varied. Always in fixed patterns, though. A structured pandemonium of tints meant to uplift r¨ªceabl?d, as their skin color lines always changed between orange, onyx, and white, the colors of the national flag, so they were living embodiments of r¨ªceabl?d, of their love for our nation, of true art. Well, what passed for art in their easily brainwashed minds.


    Everyone thought them a sight to behold, pieces fit for a museum, or a sight to fear, aliens fit for expulsion to another planet, but I just thought the Tussenvolken regular humans. No different than any Natural, or any Enhanced for that matter. I had saved quite a few Tussenvolken from getting trapped, and after the tenth one, you just got used to shifting skin hues. And they didn¡¯t use drugs, only class that didn¡¯t, so they gave me hope for the rest.


    We disagreed in the meaning of true art, however, but I had learned to keep my mouth shut when I talked to the Tussenvolken for the sake of keeping amicable relationships between the classes, so that even Zielkkenhom¡¯s most ardent zealots could support the hope Aisha Lexington and I had for the nation.


    I thought of art as something inspiring toward goodness, an ideal on way to extinction, though. The Tussenvolken thought of it as rallying others to Zielkkenhom¡¯s folly, a notion already in zeitgeist, sadly. But I guessed that was the best way to induce people to act against their own interest, and that of others, and lose their lives for hollow ideas while their leaders hunkered down safely in the comfort of their mansions and penthouses. Convincing them that evil was good.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Old strategy. Simple strategy. No wonder it still worked.


    But I would have countered it. I hoped. Because I was not the water, but the aluminum that would have suffocated their visions. I just prayed they had forgotten that not only water fought fire. And that wind could have crossed them both. For better or for worse.


    Dozens of unconscious Naturals sprawled upon my feet, all splotches on a perfectly spotless floor, all adrift between the worlds as if they did not have to return to their real lives, and could forever live a virtual dream. Their heads, hooked into computer terminals, as if they were no longer human, but an extension of machines.


    I thought melancholy would have engulfed me at such a sight, and that I¡¯d have said a prayer for the living corpses, but all I could think about was the flame blades that sliced my veins because one of Zielkkenhom¡¯s VirtuaNet studios had saved me. Because those very Naturals who lived for VirtuaNet still called me a traitor, Zielkkenhom¡¯s second best bootlicker. Nothing but an Enhanced in Natural skin.


    But that was just pride, though, and immaturity, for you were only meant to keep God happy, not the world. Father Sutton had taught me that much. A subtle form, though, one that could even make you look humble because you were compassionate toward others, but that made you think God held you to higher standards, because you thought God expected more of you. Stupid, I knew. But I knew God would help me end up stronger, more faithful. They said you had to take it one day at a time, but sometimes, it felt like sixty seconds at a time. Tougher than bridging.


    I thought Ivore¡¯s eyes would have glinted concern, or at least astonishment at forest of corpses he had stomped on his way toward the studio¡¯s exit, but his sight remained fixed on his smartwatch. The stench of Ivore¡¯s Eugenex lingered in the studio as a potato gone rotten, but I was kind of used to it by now. Heck, sometimes it made me less nauseated than the colognes and fragrances most Enhanceds doused themselves in to mask the Eugenex stench that emanated from their pores, but most Fenglas reveled in their inner putridness. And Ivore did not move, transfixed by the latest gossip news sites, until an Impure I knew, Owen, committed the great offense of bumping into him. And I wasn¡¯t fast enough to help him. Didn¡¯t have Enhanced reflexes.


    Ivore punched Owen and thrust him against the floor. A few teeth gone. A cracking sound. His beer chips scattered over the living corpses. The worst part. Neither of them thought anything of it. Owen¡¯s eyes, the same they had been just ten seconds ago. Ivore¡¯s eyes, they did not blaze wrath, much less remorse, but a faint glimmer, as if he was justified in what he had done, as if he was justified in bashing someone else¡¯s jaw. And then Ivore punched the air, though not because rage seethed through his veins, but because Fengel Eugenex granted you special abilities, all but Impure Eugenex did. But then again, not all Eugenex was made the same.


    A solidified air glaive that seemed to have fired right from Ivore¡¯s fist blasted Brandon, a Natural, who had attempted to block Ivore¡¯s punch meant for Owen. Knocked Brandon right into a statue, at least a minute away, and onto the living corpses. But thank God I did not hear his spine shatter. ¡°Remain at ten feet from me, L?t,¡± he told Owen, with a word that meant Owen was better than a slave, but not as good as a freeman. Ivore leered at Brandon, even though no Achroite would have approved of that brutish display of wrath. They¡¯d have rather kept their hands pure. Externally anyway. ¡°And you G¨®p, I will not for your soiled genes to infect me.¡±


    G¨®p. Slave. ¡°Bastard!¡± I shot. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Worry not, dawg,¡± Owen said in heavy Impure accent, a slurred string of nasal phonemes that sounded flat. ¡°Okay.¡± He faced Ivore¡¯s shoes as he spoke.


    ¡°You allow this L?t and this G¨®p to speak to you in such terms, Class A+?¡± he said. ¡°Figures.¡± He squinted his eyes and glanced at the statues of Eadwig and Sweyn that protected the entrance to the VirtuaNet studio while he talked to me. ¡°You still cling to repugnant genes.¡±


    ¡°Rather have repugnant genes and a clean soul than the other way around, Ivore,¡± I said. ¡°Clean genes don¡¯t get you to Heaven.¡±


    In Rebirth School they thought us Natural genes could contaminate Achroite and Fenglas enhanced bodies, but we never bought into that stupidity. I guessed for all their Enhanced brains, the Achroites were even stupider than the Impures. But then again, with enough brainwashing, you could get an entire world to believe idiocy. Well, not all of it, I had to admit. Aisha graced my mind.


    ¡°If I may, L¨¦of Ivore,¡± Owen said, knocking his previous Impure accent, trying to sound just like the Achroites. ¡°I am in deep apology for my offensive behavior. I regret it dearly. It was¡ª¡±


    ¡°You have nothing to apologize for Owen!¡± I turned to Brandon. ¡°And neither do you, in case you were thinking such madness.¡± I glared at Ivore. ¡°It¡¯s you who must apologize. Now! Before I mark you a debtor.¡± To Ivore, and any Enhanced, a destiny worse than death. ¡°My original fee would have been just support for the Non-Enhanced Defense Act, Cael¡¯s Law, if you¡¯ve forgotten the law¡¯s actual name, but now I¡¯m adding the apology to my fee. So pay.¡±


    It had been two years and three months, and I still couldn¡¯t get used to saying my own name like that. Sounded arrogant. But in the Enhanceds¡¯ eyes, that made me more like them. A cross I had shouldered since the Rebirth School, but one that would have granted us freedom through peace. Sometimes, the benefit of your cross was not so apparent. And sometimes that hurt more than the cross itself, not knowing its purpose.


    ¡°I shall grant you my support and that of my entire estate for your reform,¡± he said. ¡°As long as you eliminate the apology from your fee. I shan¡¯t apologize to g¨®pum and l?tum. Garbage.¡±


    The thought crossed me, even if only for a second. That I took the reform. That I let injustice happen in front of me. That I did nothing as someone else suffered. That I repeated that New Year¡¯s Eve all over again. And that Rebirth Day. But I would not have that. Even if it meant reform took a while longer. Besides, Ivore was a Puyi among the Fenglas. His support would not have been decisive.


    And I remembered what ma had taught me, while we waited for pa to return.


    ¡°Change what you feel is right, act how you know is right,¡± ma told me six years ago, when I first began working for upper classes, after Aisha saved Ellie and me. ¡°But do not budge. Do not show weakness. Stay in control, in power.¡± She then hugged me and kissed my head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want those Achroites and Fenglas to take advantage of my gulpin,¡± she said in a mellower voice than usual. ¡°Let¡¯s pray for pa¡¯s return now, okay?¡±


    I drew out the Rosary from my pocket. And glanced at the calendar we used to count the days pa had been missing: eleven years, ten months, and twelve days.


    I knew what I had to do.


    ¡°I will eliminate something from the fee, Dysig Ivore,¡± I told him. ¡°The Non-Enhanced Defense Act reform support. But I will not eliminate the apology.¡±


    ¡°I shan¡¯t¡ª¡± Ivore clenched his fists at the word Dysig. Meant fool.


    Law said I had to call him Le¨®f. Sir. But Ivore was no sir. And he could not punch me. Not because the law forbade it. Fact, he was ready to air blast me. But because he must have remembered the consequences of punching a bridger. Saw the fear his eyes glinted. Some threats worked better than vapid war cries. I guessed the Enhanced brain that Fengel Eugenex gave you had a purpose. Most of the time. Only soldiers had the ¡°privilege¡± to pounce on bridgers and get away with it. But not all of them thought Naturals practice targets. Thank God.


    I glanced at my smartwatch, pretending concern didn¡¯t writhe in my veins, pretending I didn¡¯t care about what I was going to do. ¡°You have three seconds.¡±


    ¡°I shall not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Two seconds. I¡¯m not kidding.¡±


    ¡°You shan¡¯t force me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°One second. And I do not joke.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got not the spine to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Zero.¡±


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 4: Debtor

    Zero.


    The word lingered in my mind, but I would not falter now. Not when the fate of our nation stood in the Bridge. I activated my smartwatch and marked Ivore a debtor. Sealed his chances of ever becoming an Achroite. Forever destined to a life most dreamed of, that of a regular Fengel. And their Eugenex was relatively cheap. So the other Fenglas treated them as inferior subjects, even though they were all the same. At least on paper.


    But they were not particularly smart as Mind Fenglas, whose Eugenex enhanced their neuron connections so they could develop bionics, robotics, cloning technology, and tend to the psychological and physical needs of the human body in their quest for immortality. Fools, despite their brains. Nor were they as physically adept as Body Fenglas, whose Eugenex enhanced their bodies and muscles to the point they could search for our devastation in the depths of the Pacific trenches, the ice caves of Antarctica and the Himalayas, and the scorching tunnels of the Sahara and Gobi. Enslaved folks, though still rarer than Tussenvolken. I had never seen one, as Body Fenglas didn¡¯t tend to use VirtuaNet. So I never understood why they still believed Zielkkenhom¡¯s lies.


    ¡°No, you idiot!¡± he cried. Real tears. ¡°Change it back, bridger. Go back in time, bridger.¡± He knelt and fisted the floor, as if he wanted to tear a hole in it. ¡°You are a human chronometer. Please go back in time. I implore you, bridger!¡±


    No Achroite could owe bridgers money. Only to themselves. They loaned money to the lower classes, not the other way around. They were not poor saps. Because he could apologize now and I would eliminate his debtor status, but no Achroite would forget. He would forever be branded. But I had not made it so, regardless of the thoughts, regardless of how easy it felt marking Ivore a debtor, regardless of Brandon¡¯s clenched fist aimed at my chest from afar.


    Ivore had brought it upon himself.


    ¡°Spare me your tears.¡± The words, an ice blade that gashed my throat. Colder than they sounded in my head. Colder than I thought myself capable of saying them. But I would become ice if it meant freedom through peace. ¡°You still have your family. And money to support it. They won¡¯t kick you out of your status unless you stop paying for Fengel Eugenex, regardless of the inappropriateness of your behavior.¡± Something I knew firsthand. ¡°Besides, you have killed countless Naturals and got away with it because of unjust laws, because you¡¯ve bribed judges.¡± I raised Ivore by his shirt. ¡°You sold a Natural¡¯s daughter to a VirtuaNet brothel because her father owed you money,¡± I said. ¡°So do not expect my pity. Charity for the weak. Justice for the strong.¡± I tossed him into the floor.


    Ivore stood, eyes magma globs ready to erupt at any second. ¡°It is my hope that you are forced to gaze as your family suffers a most gruesome fate at the hands of the EF. And that someone severs your limbs one by one, until you perish in the most brutal of torments.¡±


    I thought I¡¯d have yelled is that a threat? But I just sneered, dousing the wrath that drowned me when I thought about the European Federation, EF for short, about the bastard who ruined the world, the bastard who invaded Wexford, and robbed me of a father, cousin, grandparents. Robbed us of a home. Ivore knew better than to threat a bridger. A Class A+ bridger. A bridger who could call a mass strike. At least in his mind, in everyone¡¯s minds, as perception was power, and right now, perception was my sole sword. But I would hire more Esne guards to be sure. Because perception didn¡¯t tend to last long.


    But then gravels pummeled me. I thought they would not. Could not erase them. Could not block them. As much as I wanted to. Ivore¡¯s tears. Cries. Though they did not take me back to Wexford. Nothing could ever match those silent screams, those hollow wails, timestill explosions. Ivore just trudged away, as if his family had just died. Or worse, in their mind, his mind. As if he had lost all his money. His derivatives company. But in spite of the gravels, despite the gravity blast that hacked my soul, compressed my chest as if I had plummeted into a dark hole, I had not gone too far.


    I had not gone too far.


    I extended my arm towards Owen, but he stood on his own, as if I could no longer help him, and stared at me, though I didn¡¯t know what to make of his puzzled look, as I had never seen an Impure confused. Only smiling. I hoped it was for the better. ¡°Huffing, dawg?¡±


    Most Enhanceds, and a few bridgers kept their conversations with Impures to a minimum, because of their raw onion stench breath, but it never bothered me. Besides, the onion breath was an enhancement specifically made for Impures. To mask their alcohol-soaked breath. So I had to pray for calmness when I saw a Fengel or Achroite cover his nose while talking to an Impure. Or a Natural for that matter. Because onion breath was a chocolate apple cake compared to most Naturals¡¯ breath.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°N¡¯answer? I¡¯ll take it a no. Strategy then, dawg?¡± He fist bumped me as he kept scarfing down his beer chips. His smile returned.


    Booze, and gluttony, the main vices of the Impures, though I didn¡¯t think them completely responsible for it. Zielkkenhom had Impure Eugenex made specifically for fast reflexes, enhanced metabolisms, physical activities fit for their manufacturing, and textile jobs, so they were always lean, bony more likely, to the point some even looked malnourished, despite enormous calorie consumption, and without having to exercise, unlike the other classes, which exercised as a means to develop endurance, strength. Only though, because Enhanceds didn¡¯t want filthy Natural hands making their clothes, building their homes and gadgets, handling their food.


    Naturals could only work as sewage or street cleaners. And only if Impures didn¡¯t need the job.


    Brandon stepped on a corpse as he stood without any help. By accident of course, fear drowned his eyes for a second, though it must have distracted him from the pain, but his fists remained clenched. And his lips narrowed. ¡°No wonder you chose to make us wait. Again.¡± He sneered. ¡°Na?ve idealism must be the result of not being forced to drink raw sewage like the rest of us, unlucky ones. Only hardship brings about pragmatism.¡±


    I thought of punching him, and putting his hand on a flame to see if he thought bridging was a swim in Curracloe, but I just raised my arms, palms facing him, and took a step back. I didn¡¯t want to fight a fellow Natural.


    For a second there I thought Brandon had a point. I guessed that¡¯s why his insults enraged me, but it must have been the gravels. I hoped. But before I could utter a sound, I heard someone unhook himself from one of the terminals, and tiptoe right past me on his way to the changing area to dispose of his automatic waste removal suit, so they did not soil themselves while unconscious. Didn¡¯t even glance at me, or anyone for that matter, on his way there. Either because he thought us traitors. Or because he felt guilt for his addiction.


    I hoped for the latter, but thought the former more likely. This time, not for better or for worse, though. Just for worse. No doubt. I turned to Brandon, though still thinking on those yet to unhook themselves. ¡°If I can¡¯t protect those in front of me, how can I protect those I cannot see, those I know nothing about?¡±


    Brandon leered at me, but he did not clench his fists this time. ¡°That kind of thinking is what cements your reputation as a sellout.¡± His steps, a heavy noise that echoed as he marched toward me. ¡°Sometimes, you have to let those in front of you suffer and perish for a higher goal.¡±


    ¡°Only the Harmonists spew those lies,¡± I said. ¡°Lies that sound suspiciously similar to r¨ªceabl?d.¡± Which I guessed had poisoned us all. But that I would soon rid this country of. Before it was too late.


    ¡°Lies or not, Cael,¡± Brandon said. ¡°People are starting to believe them.¡± He faced the floor, the glint in his eyes gone, as void as those of Owen, as if hoping for a future that could not come through peace. ¡°And I think I am as well.¡±


    His words, a tomb. To the point that a waft of Ivore¡¯s previously undetected Eugenex stench had now crept into my nose. And not even his cologne could mask it.


    ¡°The only thing that saves you is that you work with the Lexingtons and not the Bernharts,¡± Brandon said. ¡°That ought to keep people on your side. For now at least.¡±


    ¡°True thing, the Harmonists promised everyone Achroite Eugenex if they succeed,¡± Owen said as he munched on his beer chips, Impure invention. All the Impures did. Their faces almost always with a smile, despite the fact that most people thought them the laughing stock of the nation, even more so than the Naturals, though only because we were its scapegoat, and its punching bag. World happy, I guessed, the Impures. At first, I couldn¡¯t understand their speech pattern, because they tended to talk with their mouths full, but now I was used to it. ¡°Long as you don¡¯t save a Berhart, the Harmonists¡¯ll remain fringe nuts.¡±


    And with that, they strode away.


    Another Natural the Harmonists snatched. And perhaps an Impure. Though I prayed it was just foolish words you said without thinking but did not follow once you saw their folly. The Harmonists had only snatched a few. But one by one they would gather an army of Naturals who had lost hope, and Enhanceds who craved for more. And I would hear the wails of Wexford again.


    I would not let it happen.


    But I had done the right thing. I just needed to find an Achroite to support my reform before the Harmonists launched their offensive.


    Of course, that was easier said than done.


    Because if I failed, I could have launched the rebellion I had tried to avert ever since the Harmonists did their first terrorist attack at the water plant that robbed me of a brother.


    What a gamble.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience that I will always treasure.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 5: The Girl in the Shawl

    I stepped outside the VirtuaNet studio, hoping I had returned to the surface, but being engulfed by artificial lights whose power rivaled that of the sun, but that would never equal it, and would never bring its calm, only the uneasiness of something always on. But that at least let you notice how puny he thought you and how dirtless the jade floors and tempered windows were.


    The circular plazas and hallways that stretched hours wide into the mammoth abyss at the center of the structure leading to explosive-proof spire zielkithe windows veiled by plants said it all, as did the meat suppliers to the upper sections and those who kept the area clear of ticks and other critters. I was in Zielkkenhom¡¯s home turf, in the Square of the Naturals of Section O, a special section where Naturals could go without breaking the law, and gaze at our lost things, at our missing comforts, and shoot ourselves with his poison. I¡¯d have rather died. Besides, Section O was one of the lower Sections, the ones Zielkkenhom only deigned to enter during election season, but still his creation. It only housed a few statues, marble ones, which looked more alive than those in the studios. And yet, that had not stopped Mildred and Samuel from moving there.


    I stood in the Zielkkenhom Towers, a mammoth complex of hanging gardens, greenhouses, domes, pyramids, and all sorts of futuristic Art Deco in the lower sections and Victorian architecture in the higher ones perched atop a flooded Turtle Bay. And the jeweled star of it all, right where I stood, was the Tower of Rebirth, the tallest in the world, a ringed cylindrical zielkithe-coated steel pillar as high as the Tower of Babel, just so Zielkkenhom could say he had reached the Heavens. And that his Towers glided on water. I guessed that was the point. But only One had walked on water. And it was not Zielkkenhom, as much as he fancied himself to be.


    Narrow bridges rooted the Towers to the driveway. Like the branches of a tree. A tree that did not bring oxygen, but death. A revolting sulfur stench emanated from the artificial lake beneath the Towers, and its cerulean hue dyed its true verdant supernova color, the color of Impure Eugenex, its lowest grade, almost the same as raw Eugenex¡¯s tint, so that if any Natural fell into the waters, he¡¯d become an Enhanced, an addict.


    I always kept my distance when I gazed at the fish that called Rebirth Lake home. Not the real thing of course, robotic fish, as real fish couldn¡¯t survive in such poisonous water, but I could attach a magnet to a rod and pretend I was catching them, since Eugenex manufacturing facilities had contaminated the capital¡¯s waters, and killed all the actual fish. And I didn¡¯t want to leave my family alone to go vacation in the livable waters of the south. Fishing for robot fish always brought me peace when I got homesick about Wexford. Only thing in the Towers that did. So God always helped, even in the midst of new crooked worlds.


    I had to remember that.


    The Enhanceds embodied the new world¡¯s vision of progress, equality, peace. They symbolized what everyone longed for. Yet, what they were capable of, what they had done to those who resist their vision, what they had done to us, to me¡ªI heard some footsteps, and something jolted my peripheral vision.


    A man skulked toward a girl wreathed with a vermillion shawl who texted on her smartwatch. I wanted to walk away, head to my home where my family awaited me. That man could have been her boyfriend, but she hadn¡¯t noticed him. He could have meant to surprise her or something, their anniversary perhaps, he looked just like everyone else. I glanced at the girl again, ready to saunter, but a blaze avalanche sleeted through my nerves, and made me stop when I recognized her.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Almyra Bernhart.


    Daughter of Bernhart Industries¡¯ CEO, whose ties with Zielkkenhom had won his company the state¡¯s automatically renewable a hundred-year concession to manufacture Eugenex, the now artificial poison whose natural origins from the mineral aratium gave birth to insane quasi-deities among us and almost annihilated the world before. And that thrust my girlfriend, my Ashley¡¯s still warm corpse into my hands, the hands that could not save her.


    And yet we cheered when Zielkkenhom reintroduced it.


    I thought about letting the man catch Almyra, so her father Lloyd could suffer what he put me through, but my soul squirmed my heart when I thought that. I shouldn¡¯t have cared. Almyra was a Bernhart. Her father paid pennies to the Naturals who worked at his factories. He and Zielkkenhom changed the laws that let Naturals live in the wards, and corralled them all into the Zielkkenhomvilles, except for those in our districts. I did not want to care. But Almyra looked like Ashley. And Ellie would have smacked me if I didn¡¯t help her. So would have my parents. And so would have my soul. Pelted my mind until I drowned, drop by drop. I knew what I had to do.


    But then it clouted me. The man must be her bodyguard. That was it. He surveyed the Section, as if hunting for threats. And then he stared at me. I did as well. Even flexed my knees and pretended I carried a gun. Hoped he didn¡¯t see through my bluff. He slid his hand into his pocket. I was ready to sidestep. He even stepped toward me, but he just shook his head and turned back to Almyra. So then he was her bodyguard. No regular Enhanced was that aware, all hooked into VirtuaNet, all trapped by their smartwatches. Gravity slowed each of my steps. That had to be it. A girl like her in the lower Sections, in the Square of the Naturals, flooded with wannabe Enhanceds and Impures? Yellowstone would erupt again before her father let her descend without bodyguards.


    I pretended to saunter as I skulked toward Almyra. And glanced at the man. He wasn¡¯t texting. Because he was her bodyguard. That¡¯s why he wasn¡¯t texting with her. That¡¯s why she hadn¡¯t seen him. That must have been it. I turned but gravity tightened my chest with each step. And then I saw someone else glance at the man who prowled toward Almyra, still on her smartwatch. And nod.


    ¡°You forced me to do this,¡± the man told her. She finally glanced up. And then he slid his hand in his pocket.


    I glanced back. The other man with a sneer, the one who had skulked past us to change, right next to Ivore, still back at the VirtuaNet studio. And then he slid his hand in his pocket as well. An ice blade speeded me. I knew what was coming. And it was not justice. I found myself sprinting to save my girlfriend¡¯s murderer, even though I felt I was betraying Ashley.


    ¡°For freedom!¡± the man next to Ivore hollered. ¡°For the Harmonists!¡±


    ¡°Ms. Bernhart! Take cover!¡± I leaped toward the man next to her, as if I was jumping from Rosslare to Fishguard, and forgetting about everyone else, I tackled him as if I wanted to shatter the walls of Jericho with my shoulders, and thrust him across the security railing into the abyss at the center of the Tower. And I thought he¡¯d change his mind, now that he plummeted to his death, but he just sneered and placed his hand on his suicide vest. So without even thinking on the fact that I had just killed someone, I threw myself over Almyra and shielded her with my body. The sound ruptured my eardrums. Not of the blasts, but of the wails and cries from ruptured families and dismembered souls.


    Wexford all over again, death all over again, as the lights hummed unfazed. Always on.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 6: Raw

    I could not move, clouted not by debris, not by bullets, but by the shackling stench of raw Eugenex. That poison, a willful prison the Enhanceds had built in their souls. Rotten, sulfurous gunk, like putrefying corpses and fish gone sour. And toxic. Melted your skin in contact. Killed you if it went up your nose or through your throat. Made me want to lose my sense of smell, but the stink was nothing compared to the grime itself.


    A raw Eugenex glob landed on my back. And melted my skin off. Pain pulsed through my nerves. I thought I would never walk again. The blazes of the Bridge felt as spring waters compared to raw Eugenex. I hollered a second, but shut to remain calm, not call attention to myself. Felt my skin fall off, blood gush. Each second as if I lay on sulfuric acid, lava. And could not move. As if I dove in boiling water. And could not swim to the surface. The floor was a turlough and my back a waterfall. Like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. And like Him, I would live. Even in injury.


    I focused on the fact that at least I had saved Almyra. It would have landed on her head. And melted her skull off. But my back had protected her. That soothed me, but it did not dissolve the pain. I guessed it was a test, a trial, like Job¡¯s. And I just offered it for my conversion and that of Almyra.


    That ache. Someone had to go to Heaven for that.


    But before I could even stand, ask Almyra if she was fine, mucus flooded my nose and breathing felt like Samson punching your solar plexus as if you were a Philistine. And I almost threw up. Tear gas. Mixed with a smoke bomb. An ashen haze engulfed the Square. Wails and cries all over. Worse than the pain. For a second. Because someone stomped my back, right where the raw Eugenex had charred me. And I hollered. Felt tears sting my eyes and fall on Almyra. But the saints had lived through worse. And I would as well.


    I shut my eyes. ¡°Close your eyes, Ms. Bernhart, and cover your face,¡± I declared. Stern voice. So it didn¡¯t sound broken.


    ¡°Who is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just listen to me.¡±


    We stood. Almyra wrapped her shawl around her mouth and nose as a facemask. And I thought she would flee, or that her bodyguards would arrive, but she didn¡¯t. They didn¡¯t. They must have betrayed her. The only ones with access to raw Eugenex were Zielkkenhom and those who worked at Bernhart Industries¡¯ Eugenex manufacturing facilities. I knew her family¡¯s poison had killed my girlfriend, but a shard of sadness still pricked my heart, regardless of my efforts to suppress it. That people would betray you for stupidity. I knew the feeling.


    I took off my shirt and tied it around the lower part of my face. I then opened my eyes a second, surveyed the area. And despite the smoke, I could see everything. Seeing through the haze was like seeing through a deluge. The darkness of the Bridge had adjusted my eyes to seeing in the dark. Kind of like natural night vision goggles. If only that came in handy in peaceful situations, but it never did.


    The scene was bloodless. Somewhat. The only blood spilled was that of the Naturals, those whose blood did not clot. Eugenex made your blood coagulate faster than usual, turning it into a crystallized patch of hollowness. So the Enhanceds closest to the blasts, the only ones who had perished, looked like diamond statues, lavish corpses, so they wouldn¡¯t lose status, not even in death. I prayed for them, because I knew their souls didn¡¯t look as translucent as their bodies.


    I held Almyra¡¯s hand and stepped ahead, but the second after we did, Mildred and Samuel jolted my brain. They lived there. The Square of the Naturals rested in Section O. Their apartment did.


    But before I could even turn to their apartment, I stepped on something. We both did. Almyra couldn¡¯t see what it was, but I did. And it was not a what, but a corpse. A human corpse. The blasts must have barreled him to where we stood. At least I hoped Almyra hadn¡¯t seen him, because she did not utter a sound, a gasp. Not even a twinge of disgust. And I didn¡¯t think she had seen several corpses to be inured to them, right?This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    It was Ivore. What remained of his corpse, veiled by iridescent shards of red, looking more animal than human, and the first thing that jolted my mind was you deserved it, for what you did to that volunteer¡¯s innocent daughter. An ice blade lacerated my soul. Was it wrong? To stand in front of a corpse, a human corpse, and not feel a scioll¨¢n of sadness? To stand in front of a human corpse, and be only a second away from gloating? If I didn¡¯t have God with me, would I have been like the Achroites? God forgive him. Forgive me. I hoped I would feel sadness, but I didn¡¯t.


    But then I noticed I wasn¡¯t holding Almyra¡¯s hand. And I heard some punches and kicks. I opened my eyes for two seconds. Four men manhandled Almyra, and were about to inject her something. She handled herself well against two of them, but no one could handle four fighters. I opened my eyes again, the tears stung, though not as much as the raw Eugenex. Her bodyguards still nowhere. Probably gloating with those Harmonist terrorists about how many innocent people they had just massacred with their raw Eugenex blasts. Bastards.


    But an eight of a second after I stepped toward Almyra, I heard a wail, a cry, which brought me back to Wexford for a moment. Except without the bombs. But still with semi-darkness. I glanced right and spotted a Natural trying to remove a statue from his wife, from my district even.


    ¡°Please, anyone,¡± he pleaded. ¡°We were just visiting.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t take Eugenex,¡± his wife muttered. ¡°I think this is our answer.¡±


    ¡°Why did God do this to us?¡± the husband said, in tears, tears that the tear gas did not cause.


    And I turned to them, but then I glanced back at Almyra, and saw one man down, but the other three carry her away. My soul hauled me left and right. The medics would come soon. But Almyra¡¯s bodyguards were not going to rescue her. I felt I was forsaking the Naturals, betraying them, but I knew what I had to do. I chose Almyra, even though my chest tightened to the point I could not breathe. To the point I felt my organs squirm and writhe, as if I had chosen the wrong person.


    I sprinted toward Almyra and hurled my pocketknife at the man hoisting her. It punctured his lower spine. He plummeted. And I halted for a second. I had done it to defend someone, but my mind still writhed my heart, because of how fast it had been, because of how arctic it had been, of how cold I had been. Did not even think it for a seventh of a second. But that was not the time to mull about it.


    The man drew out the pocketknife, ready to pierce Almyra, but she knuckled his Adam¡¯s apple and snatched the pocketknife from his hands. Punctured another captor¡¯s stomach. Thrust him against the floor. I guessed I was wrong. Perhaps she had seen enough corpses to be inured to them. But she was an Achroite. They were not used to death. Or training. Most of them. What had she done? Or what was she doing? That she was such a skilled fighter.


    But the remaining captor snatched her neck and kneed her lower back. Marched to the end of the plate, right next to the central abyss. My mind pelted me. Pictured her plummeting. Perishing. I would not allow that. I sprinted toward them, not even feeling the raw Eugenex burn, leaped as if I was jumping from Praia to Vladivostok, and hauled them down before he tossed her into the abyss. We all crashed into the floor. I bowled from the burn. But Almyra was safe. She then elbowed the man¡¯s thorax, snatched my pocketknife, and stabbed his chest. In a second. The adrenaline. Or perhaps just self-defense training, I supposed. Hoped.


    She opened her eyes for a second, but could not tell who I was. So she aimed the pocketknife at my neck. And her smartwatch at my arm. ¡°Five feet, seven inches, of medium complexion, straight, close-thatched nut brown hair with a dash of waviness on the front, forest green eyes, twenty-two years of age, and Class A+ bridger with a success rate of ninety-seven percent,¡± she said. ¡°You must be Cael Cavanaugh. Come with me.¡±


    For a second I almost went with Almyra, but then I remembered the Natural¡¯s wife trapped. And Mildred and Samuel. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°You go if you must. Keep the pocketknife for safety.¡±


    She snatched my arm. ¡°I am not in ability to do that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s equal to me what you think, Miss,¡± I said. ¡°I have things to do.¡± I let go and raced to the Natural¡¯s wife, hoping no raw Eugenex glob had killed her while I saved Almyra. Its stench still lingered. And only equally lethal cleaners could dissipate it.


    Almyra dashed in front of me. ¡°It concerns Mildred Williams, Samuel Gieves, and the fate of the Naturals,¡± she said. ¡°Your fate, bridger.¡±


    I halted, struck by her words.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 7: Contract

    I thought of accompanying Almyra, more so than before, but the image of the Natural writhing under the statue jolted my mind. And I could not leave her, despite Almyra¡¯s pleas, despite my alleged fate. But before I could restart my race, Almyra clutched my shoulder and stared at me. So much that she even knelt a little so we¡¯d be eye to eye. ¡°H?f ¡­ Mr. Cavanaugh,¡± she said. ¡°Security forces shall arrive shortly.¡± She held my hand. Her soft skin a stream to my scalded palm. ¡°I am in need of your coming with me before the news arrive, before everyone comes.¡± She leaned further toward me. ¡°Please, Mr. Cavanaugh. I am in need of you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to do, more so because for a second I saw Ashley, but I knew she wasn¡¯t her. I wanted to help the injured, didn¡¯t want to forsake her, but neglecting Almyra felt like forgetting about Ashley. That I had let her die because of my negligence. And I would do the same thing with Almyra. But a part of me hauled my soul to the injured, more so now that Almyra was safe. And had a pocketknife with her. ¡°What¡¯s so important about Mildred and Samuel that you need to tell me now, and can¡¯t wait for me to help?¡±


    ¡°It would not be prudent to say.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to abandon others,¡± I said. ¡°To abandon the Naturals. I can¡¯t do that, Ms. Bernhart.¡±


    ¡°Even if the lives of millions are at stake?¡±


    Ice shards punctured my organs. I thought I had made my decision, but each step clouted my chest, an axe to my heart, so much I thought it¡¯d stop. In Wexford I could not do a thing. In the Towers, I had chosen not to do a thing. I had chosen one over many. I had chosen Enhanced over Naturals. I could not do that. I turned and sprinted to the Natural again.


    ¡°Mr. Cavanaugh!¡±


    I didn¡¯t listen to Almyra. And as if I were Samson, I helped the Natural lift the statue from under his wife. Did not hear his words. Blocked by the prayers in my mind. And the gravels. Had I made the wrong decision? I had not. I had made my decision. And had to live with the consequences. Forever imprinted in my brain. The image of the Natural¡¯s wife, immobile as the statue that crushed her.


    But before I could even finish a Lord¡¯s Prayer for the Natural¡¯s soul, I spotted some security forces aiming at me. Or at least what looked like security forces, because they might as well have been Harmonists. What Almyra had wanted to avoid. And they were closing in on her, so I raced toward her, snatched her arm, and sprinted to the safest place in the Section¡ªMildred and Samuel¡¯s apartment.


    But then she heaved my arm back, and almost thrust me down. And looked up some coordinates in her smartwatch, bright enough for us to see its display. ¡°Head two-thirds of a kilometer left from here,¡± she said. ¡°Then through a passageway I shall inform you about. And do not doubt me. My plan is for our sakes, as currently everyone must be in thought of your kidnapping me. And you shall not survive the onslaught of the Tower¡¯s security forces.¡±


    I opened my eyes again, but the tear gas still stung. The security forces neared us. And then I heard a blast. I sidestepped and dodged the bullet by an eight of a second. I did not want to admit it, but she was right. That settled it. Almyra then tossed her smartwatch, as did I, since they were probably tracking them, and darted to the passageway Almyra had told me about. And prayed that she wouldn¡¯t betray me.


    We arrived to a middle point on the plaza. And I could not see a thing. Not because of the tear gas, but because nothing lay ahead of us. A wall. Biolocked. At least to my Natural eyes. I guessed I wasn¡¯t the one who had lived there all his life. Thank God.


    Almyra then called a name and said something in Spanish. I opened my eyes. And saw one of the workers smile at her and press his hand against the biolock, and then pointed his eye at the bioscanner. The wall opened. Almyra thanked him and we bolted inside. I chuckled. How could I have not thought about it? The cargo area. The shipment area. Another jab to my mind. Not only had she demonstrated better vision, but she had also talked with the service workers. I laughed again. That convinced me. She wasn¡¯t the rich brat I had her to be, but she was still a Bernhart. And that would never change.


    The service worker shut off the wall. We were safe. And I had expected some major information in my mind, but nothing could have prepared me for her words, for what she said, for what started that day.


    ¡°I am in need of your services.¡±


    ¡°Why should I help you?¡± I said. ¡°I already saved your life. And my Ashley lost hers because of you, your poison.¡±


    ¡°Eugenex?¡± she said. ¡°I apologize. It is rare for that to occur.¡±


    ¡°Rare won¡¯t bring my girlfriend back.¡± And in that moment, Almyra stopped looking like Ashley. When I thought about the real one. Tears marred her face, but those must have been for the tear gas, not my Ashley¡¯s death, right?


    ¡°Are you not in will to save Mildred? The districts?¡±


    And I thought I only listened to her because I cared about the Naturals, but it wasn¡¯t true. I kind of wanted to help her because of her, because she wasn¡¯t the brat I had her out to be. But my soul constricted my veins, because I had to help people just for the sake of it, for God, not because they were saints or jerks. But with the Achroites, you could not let them know your true intentions, lest they used them against you. ¡°It depends.¡± That phrase lacerated my chest, even though I was thinking of helping her, despite everything. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Class B bridger Mildred Williams went missing during the blasts, presumed dead,¡± she said. ¡°But I am in belief of her being alive, and of her husband Samuel Gieves¡¯ responsibility for her disappearance, and for the blasts.¡± And for a quarter of a second, the corners of her lips pulled down just a millimeter, but it was so fast that sometimes I wondered if I had imagined it, but what I had no doubts of was the glinting blazes of her eyes, when she said, ¡°I am in will of finding Mildred and bringing Samuel to justice. She was my nanny until I was of ten years.¡±


    Hail pulsed through my veins. I stepped back, faced down, and slid my hand past my face, because I wanted to help her find Mildred, but I didn¡¯t want to help her arrest Samuel, even if it meant reforms had to take longer.


    ¡°What are you in need of? What are you in will of, Mr. Cavanaugh?¡±


    That was the first time anyone had ever asked me that. Everyone had a fee in mind, almost everyone, that is.


    ¡°Should it be money what you are in need of,¡± she said. ¡°I am in ability to grant you an amount that shall satisfy the deepest desires of even the most avaricious of the Enhanceds.¡±


    I remained silent.


    ¡°Should it be power and fame what you are in will of,¡± she said. ¡°I am in power to grant you one of the most luxurious penthouses in the most exclusive segment of Section A.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Bernhart,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t want any of those things.¡±


    Almyra tilted her head and looked at me as if I were an alien, but she composed herself and leaned towards me. ¡°So what is your deepest desire?¡± she said. ¡°Inform me of it and I shall grant it to you, no questions asked.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to ask for, what to do. Everything she said sounded tempting, really tempting, to the point that I almost asked her for the money, power, and fame, but then again, they were just that, temptations.


    And then I thought about Ellie. Naturals were forbidden by law to buy exoskeletons and cochlear implants, but Almyra would have definitely been able to buy them, and with no one harassing her about who was it for and what would have been her intentions. But was that the right thing? And then again, Ellie had refused them when Aisha offered them to her.


    My chest tightened when I thought Ellie would have refused. She would have told me to choose something for the world, something that everyone, that Naturals and Enhanceds could benefit from. Not something selfish, not something just for her. Because she was like that, despite how iniquitous the world had been to her. She was a better Christian than I. I would have chosen the exoskeleton.


    Almyra leaned toward me, clasped my hands. Her eyes watery. ¡°Mr. Cavanaugh, I plead you. No other bridger would care enough about justice for a mere Class B who was a Natural even,¡± she said, in a timbre that sounded like Ashley¡¯s.


    I didn¡¯t want to help her. Deep down, I knew it could have ended up with Samuel imprisoned. Deep down I knew he could have been a terrorist. But how could I not? Was I that callous? But then again, if I really trusted Samuel, if I really believed he was innocent, if I could prove he was innocent, then Almyra would have no choice but to let him go. She didn¡¯t strike as someone who¡¯d put an innocent person behind bars just to boost convictions, and pretend that we were safer. So I swallowed my anger at Eugenex and said, ¡°I want a complete halt of Eugenex production for new Enhanceds.¡± Something, perhaps, even better than the reforms.


    A grin emerged on her face, though only for a fraction of a second. She then puckered her lips. ¡°Well, it seems you are in accomplishment of what no one else is, Mr. Cavanaugh,¡± she said. ¡°You are in possession of a fee I am not in power to disburse.¡±


    I stared at my hands, at her face. It was like my guardian angel himself was telling me I was a horrible bastard and a bad Christian. My veins coiled my heart, my organs, as if they had ripped my heart right out of my chest, and gravity blasted my brain. She was a Bernhart, but she had not killed my girlfriend, even if it soothed me to believe that. Ellie was right. She was not at fault for what her father had done. She was an Achroite, but she was not like them. I couldn¡¯t live with myself if I let her go. It would have gnawed at me all my life, not helping her, clawed at my heart until I had none. And she began to look like Ashley again. And it clouted me. ¡°Then I want you to promise me your support to reform the Non-Enhanced Defense Act, Cael¡¯s Law. And provide more protections for the Naturals in the Zielkkenhomvilles. The Harmonists will not use me as an excuse for violence and senseless bloodshed.¡±


    Almyra¡¯s eyes glistened, like stars that guide your way. ¡°That is a payable fee,¡± she said. ¡°I shall inform my father and Chairman Zielkkenhom about the matter.¡±


    ¡°But I won¡¯t help you put Samuel behind bars.¡±


    A twinge of wrath formed in her eyes. ¡°What if he did murder her? Or kidnap her?¡± she said. ¡°Should he be guilty, he shall lose his district. And jeopardize all the others.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t kill her,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯ll both be together. Alive. Happy. I¡¯ll prove it to you. And that the Harmonists were responsible for the blasts.¡±


    She just laughed. ¡°Let us proceed to Section A,¡± she said. ¡°However, be prepared for the news crews. What matters is not the truth, but how you say your lies.¡±


    We entered the elevator and untied our masks, my eyes finally adjusting themselves to light, but still itching as if I had chickenpox. ¡°I don¡¯t need to lie,¡± I said as I put on my shirt. ¡°I saved your life. That¡¯s the truth.¡±


    She laughed as she wrapped her shawl around her waist to leave her bruised arms exposed. ¡°I expect your services to outshine your naivet¨¦.¡±


    ¡°Not naivet¨¦,¡± I said. ¡°Just optimism, Ash ¡­ Ms. Bernhart.¡±


    She didn¡¯t seem to catch my mistake.


    The doors shut. I had dealt with those of Section A before, no need to worry, though I couldn¡¯t figure out why Almyra would want the news to broadcast her bruises. I would clear Samuel¡¯s name, and achieve freedom through peace, or at least I thought I would.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 8: Manhood Contest

    It was the first time I saw Almyra for real, not within smoke, not within tear gas, but in actual light. And I felt in a dream. A dream that turned into a nightmare when I saw myself longing for an artificial girl, when I saw myself forgetting Ashley for an artificial, Victorian princess. She fixed her long hair, forged by the sun itself. The very sun made her eyes glint, fashioned by the gemstones of Earth¡¯s core. Her skin, more lustrous and fair than the Achroite Eugenex that streamed through her veins. All of her, of more vivid colors than those of the average Achroite.


    Almyra may have looked like perfection personified, she may have been perfection personified, but she was not Ashley. She was not the Ashley I would forever love. In Ashley I felt the zephyr of the Celtic sea, the scent of chocolate potato cake. In her I began. In me she ended. In Almyra, I felt nothing, and only saw synthetic hues. Her eyes. Hue 13747. Her lips. Hue 37492. Her hair. Hue 57832. Enough to feed all of the city¡¯s villes. With real food. But she knew nothing else. Almyra was kind for an Achroite. And she wasn¡¯t the one who set the rage that swelled my heart. She wasn¡¯t the one who ripped my soul and shattered my heart. Ashley was all gone. Memories. Dreams only. And it wasn¡¯t because of the Bernharts, as much as I loathed admitting it.


    But then I felt something and glanced back. Someone¡¯s eye hovered over me. I turned. My heart stopped as if I had seen the Angel at the Holy Sepulcher. We were the only ones in the elevator. I knew it, but for some reason, I¡ª


    ¡°Are you afflicted with Gieves Syndrome?¡± Almyra said. ¡°Feeling or seeing things that are not in existence is one of the key early symptoms. Should I order you a visit to the Sanatorium?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not afflicted with that. I know it.¡± A visit to the Sanatorium, the Zielkkenhom Sanatorium¡ªI¡¯d have rather perished than staying there. I didn¡¯t even want to think about what happened there. Gieves Syndrome. I had never stayed over four minutes in the Bridge. There was no chance I could be afflicted with it, right?


    The elevator¡¯s doors opened. Almyra had told me to be ready, but nothing could compare to that horde. The media swarmed us¡ªan odd scene that looked like a Victorian painting with smartwatches and hologram displays¡ªbut Almyra maintained her regal poise, as if she were posing for a portrait. I didn¡¯t care for that. We were lamps and they fireflies, all chattering in sounds that Almyra understood. I didn¡¯t.


    I was about to answer some questions when I noticed someone in the crowd, his fists clenched. And his right hand pulled back. I knew what was coming. I sidestepped and the punch clouted a reporter. Thrust him to the floor. He cried. And that would have been me. On national television. Minus the crying. That would have been embarrassing.


    But then the puncher glared at me. He drew out a gun. Zeroed in on my head. And I knew exactly who he was. ¡°How dare you¡ª¡±


    ¡°H?eft Nabritt, enough!¡± yelled Almyra. ¡°Mr. Cavanaugh here saved my life. He did not kidnap me.¡±


    ¡°Is that so, Almie?¡±


    Eugenex¡¯s first poster boy, Julius Nabritt. At twenty-six and six feet and four inches, he was already Lieutenant of the USN¡¯s Armed Forces, Senior Trustee at the Zielkkenhom Foundation, and the head of the Tower of Rebirth¡¯s security forces. A perfectly groomed medium stubble framed Julius¡¯ broad jaw, with a sturdy build and Atlas shoulders that looked statuesque, but that paled in comparison to those of a Body Fengel, and didn¡¯t make him any more menacing than your average Esne soldier, despite his height. Guessed the bowler hat that covered his short, gelled coyote brown hair didn¡¯t spell threat.


    And neither did his voice. Deep. Grave. But artificial. Enhanced timbre 14358. Not as deep as Zielkkenhom¡¯s. Not as grave as mine. Must have obsessed Julius. Even more so than it did to the average Enhanced. I guessed that¡¯s why Julius always seemed one bridge away from blasting someone into iridescent shards of blood. Cracking the zielkithe-coated walls that protected the Tower, even if that was the strongest substance known to humankind, Eugenex-infused goethite. But Julius would never sound exactly like Zielkkenhom. Because Eugenex couldn¡¯t surpass God. I had to grant Zielkkenhom that. He didn¡¯t use voice enhancers or artificial timbres. In fact, most Achroites were more enhanced than Zielkkenhom. Guessed that showed what he truly believed of his Eugenex, his Rebirth Age, of his poison.


    Julius caught sight of Almyra¡¯s arm bruises, and his eyes turned to spring leaves. He leaped toward her, and handed her his coat¡ªI guessed not because he cared, but because he didn¡¯t want Almyra¡¯s bruises broadcast on national TV¡ªbut she shoved his arm back. But then again, I saw his face, and he seemed to care about her, for real. I didn¡¯t know. And didn¡¯t care that much either.


    Almyra¡¯s lips narrowed. ¡°Do not call me Almie. You lost the right.¡±


    Julius stared at her bruises again, almost as if he wanted to extend his arms and comfort her. His eyes like fire glints when he saw Almyra, ice shards when he saw everyone else, and guns when he saw me. ¡°What has this guttersnipe done to you, my dearest?¡±


    I thought he would shoot me, but he just handed Almyra a healer, a Eugenex-powered portable device that could heal most minor wounds, and even some major ones, provided they were not too lethal.


    Almyra was going to reject it, but she took it, with a smile. Julius even grinned. Forgot that I stood next to her. But he remembered me, forever, when Almyra used the healer, not on herself, but on me, on my raw Eugenex wound, right in front of him, of the cameras, of the millions watching at home, or on their smartwatches. ¡°The effects of my most recent Eugenex injection are waning, but it shall heal my own wounds soon enough,¡± she said. ¡°But H¨¦afodling Cavanaugh¡¯s shall not.¡± She glared at Julius, her eyes also like glimmering blazes, not of zealous love though, but of ardent hatred. ¡°He saved my life, Lieutenant. Or are you of such idiocy that I am in need of telling you thrice?¡± she said in Achroite accent to sound even more regal. A rising song of rolled r¡¯s and geminated vowels I tended to dislike, but that sounded prettier in Almyra¡¯s voice.


    Achroites only called their peers H¨¦afodling. The newscasters, the crowd, everyone just stared at Julius. Expected him to know what to do, what to say to the fact that the USN¡¯s daughter had just committed the crime of calling a Natural H¨¦afodling. But Julius remained silent. Didn¡¯t know what to say. But someone saved him, someone I didn¡¯t want to see again.


    ¡°If that is the case, then the bridger is one of us,¡± a deep voice said.


    It was as if I had seen the Twister himself take human form¡ªDaan Zielkkenhom, the founder and Chairman of the Zielkkenhom Foundation, the one whose grant originated Eugenex, the one who controlled the government, the one who caused Ashley¡¯s death. He was a few years shy of sixty, but his long grey hair and tailored suit with a turtle neck shirt over his dress shirt made him look distinguished instead of old. And though Zielkkenhom wasn¡¯t the tallest of the Achroites, as even Bernhart surpassed his height, his gravitas and rapport commanded everyone¡¯s attention. As did his smile and deep soothing voice. But his actions struck people most.


    Most powerful, when he helped a Natural woman who had tripped stand up; gloveless¡ªdisregarding his own textbooks that said an Enhanced could be contaminated by the mere touch of a Natural¡ªand even let her street enjoy clean water. Something I had only seen Aisha do before. With my hands. Because he did it just as naturally as Aisha did, as if he did not think of Naturals as inferior beings. As if he thought Naturals and Enhanceds equal.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    A gesture that sparked cognitive dissonance among the Achroites, who always seemed oblivious to that when they idolized Zielkkenhom. Because in their minds, you could forget real power, that of helping others, for it did not equal mercy, even if Zielkkenhom had shown it only to promote his poison and beatify himself to the dejected Naturals¡¯ not-yet-reborn minds, as he had probably mastered the arts of lying and manipulation.


    But I guessed sometimes even false warmth surpassed real cold. When it granted you a momentary reprieve from your daily misery. Though perhaps not when sociopaths were involved. As I couldn¡¯t read Zielkkenhom¡¯s face, and see what his hidden agenda was. Because it did not even sow envy among the Naturals who could not enjoy that clean water, if that was Zielkkenhom¡¯s secret agenda. It ignited kindness even. To the point that Congress made it illegal for Naturals to share things, mainly water and foodstuffs. But the woman¡¯s street never lost its clean water.


    Deep down, I hoped Zielkkenhom really cared for Naturals, because he didn¡¯t force Eugenex upon us in the Rebirth School, thank God for that, but wishful thinking tended to blind you, harm you in the end. And I had been its victim before. I guessed, most likely, that within Zielkkenhom¡¯s heart pulsed the charm of a serial killer luring his victims before the slaughter. And we fell for it. Worse perhaps, the Harmonists had not. And their torment would assail us all if I ¡­ we did not coerce Zielkkenhom into reform.


    Julius¡¯ eyes brightened as a child meeting his childhood hero when he saw Zielkkenhom. If your hero was a megalomaniacal sociopath, that was.


    But before either one of them could say something, Almyra leaned toward me and hugged me from the back, her hands seductively positioned on my chest, her cheeks touching mine, and kneeled a little so it seemed I was keeping her from falling. She then glared at Julius and signaled the reporters to record. I guessed just to spite him. Something had happened between those two. ¡°Some thugs kidnapped me and were about to hurl me into the abyss beneath us, but H¨¦afodling Cavanaugh here valorously risked his life to save me.¡± She signaled my cicatrized wound. ¡°He even took a raw Eugenex burn for me, my darling Cael Cavanaugh.¡± She kissed my cheek. ¡°While the dishonorable Lieutenant did nothing to rescue the girl he professes to love.¡±


    I almost laughed at the timbre she was talking with. Mocking.


    ¡°The founder of the bridger district system,¡± yelled a newscaster. ¡°Class A+ bridger Cael Cavanaugh. The hero who saved Almyra Bernhart.¡± And before I could even sidestep, he broadcasted a close-up of me. And it clouted me.


    Everyone would know me as the bridger who had saved Almyra Bernhart.


    And then the cameras shifted to Zielkkenhom¡¯s favorite bootlicker, who had to play his part, if not only because Zielkkenhom had sided with me. My veins squirmed at that thought. And something else was at hand. Julius straightened his suit. ¡°I have heard quite a lot about you and your kind, H?ft Cavanaugh.¡± He sneered and then he extended his hand, palm down.


    And I was about to shake hands with him, but what if it was a trap? What if he hid a Eugenex vial on it?


    ¡°No handshake? Is that because you lack spine? I thought you had saved Almie.¡± His sneer still on his face, his palm still faced down, as if he¡¯d have rather dealt with vermin than with me, but I wasn¡¯t going to let him off the hook so easily.


    I¡¯d do what my dad had taught me to do with those pretend alphas who thought they were God, when he first returned from the war in Europe, just three years ago. I stepped forward with my left foot, not my right, with my palm facing up. And the moment Julius clutched my hand I stepped towards him with my right foot and strode to his left, forcing him to twist his palm in a vertical position. And the result was an equal authority handshake. I just chuckled when I saw his Enhanced sneer vanish in two steps. ¡°So the Enhanceds in Section A just sit around talking about me? Didn¡¯t know I was so important to your kind, Julius. I just thought you spent your time moisturizing.¡± Almyra stared at Julius, saved him from answering. ¡°Not even a gramercy, Lieutenant?¡± she said. ¡°Nothing for the man who saved the woman you profess to love?¡±


    He glimpsed at Zielkkenhom, as if looking for help. As if he wanted Zielkkenhom to slaughter the reporters and gathered people snickering and gossiping about his weakness, sissy-shaming him in their feeds, mocking him on live TV. The Milksop Lieutenant, they were calling him. I felt kind of bad for him, despite everything, when I glanced at what people said about him online. But then Julius sneered. And my victory did not seem so victorious anymore.


    I thought of punching him. But then he¡¯d have killed me. And my family would have lost everything, because Naturals could not maintain bank accounts, so the state would have expropriated my assets, and forced my family to the Zielkkenhomvilles. I wouldn¡¯t be reckless. Even if my sense of honor clawed at my veins.


    ¡°An Honorary Achroite Medal, Chairman,¡± Julius said. ¡°For the bridger who saved Almyra Bernhart.¡± And then he hammered his next words, told right into a reporter¡¯s microphone, ¡°Instead of saving a Natural.¡±


    Honorary Achroite Medal. The prize for Non-Achroites who lived r¨ªceabl?d to its fullest, and exemplified the values of rebirth and progress, the pillars of the Zielkkenhom Foundation, the stalwarts of the Age of Rebirth. Reserved for collaborationists, traitors, Naturals who willed to progress directly to Fengel Eugenex without passing the exams or paying the fees for their monthly supply. I didn¡¯t consider the recipients traitors, not all of them, though I always tried to convince them not to accept it, because of what the Zielkkenhom Foundation stood for, but they always accepted it, and most Naturals considered them traitors. And the Harmonists would take advantage of that. ¡°Cael Cavanaugh, recipient of the prize for traitors,¡± they¡¯d say. But I could not leave Almyra. I would decline the award, but only one thing pounded my brain.


    Was I one of them? Was I an Honorary? Even if I did not accept the award? Zielkkenhom¡¯s words drilled my brain. You¡¯re one of us.


    ¡°That should suffice,¡± Zielkkenhom said.


    ¡°Chairman,¡± Almyra said. ¡°A little more?¡±


    ¡°Be not avaricious, Healdend Bernhart,¡± Zielkkenhom said. ¡°That is not Enhanced behavior.¡± Zielkkenhom turned to me. Stared at me with expressionless eyes, the same ones he had the day the world ended, the day the world was reborn. ¡°I expect you at the Zielkkenhom Foundation Awards Ceremony, bridger. Which shall take place in your district, today at night, as a gesture of goodwill.¡± He raised his voice so everyone could hear. And indeed, everyone had.


    ¡°He shall be there,¡± Almyra answered for me.


    And with the same eyes Zielkkenhom had stared at me, he glanced at Julius. ¡°We must discuss with the others how shall we proceed. Hardakhan is in wait.¡± He raised his head and glared at me for a last second.


    It was as if gravity had increased, as if something clutched me, as if I weighed thousands of tons and could not move. I thought that when the moment arrived, the moment I had Zielkkenhom in front of me, I¡¯d be ready, but I wasn¡¯t. I had a whole speech prepared but I forgot the words. I thought I¡¯d have been ready to argue with him, or if it came to, to fight against him, but the moment arrived, and I didn¡¯t do a thing. But God was going to grant me another chance. And I was going to be ready. At the Ceremony.


    Julius stood as straight as the platinum-coated zielkithe slabs plastered over the Towers. ¡°I am afraid I must depart. Goodbye, Almie.¡± He bowed in front of her. And then he glared at me. ¡°I always win, bridger.¡± He clouted my back wound.


    ¡°Lt. Nabritt,¡± a reporter said. ¡°Is it true that a Natural is responsible for the attack?¡±


    Julius didn¡¯t even glance at him, because Almyra had embraced me and not him. ¡°H?ft Cavanaugh,¡± he said. ¡°I shall guarantee that every Natural knows of your feats, of how you saved Almyra Bernhart, daughter of Eugenex¡¯s manufacturer, instead of a Natural. And how the Zielkkenhom Foundation Awards Ceremony shall transpire in your district, guttersnipe.¡± He sneered and strode away with Zielkkenhom, with the city at their feet. My district lighted buildings visible, just a bridge away.


    I gazed at the horizon for just a second. Was the last time I¡¯d see the capital I loved as I remembered.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 9: VirtuaNet, Where All Your Dreams Come True

    It wasn¡¯t my first time in Section A, but the first I had actually noticed it. As if nothing had happened just a few sections beneath them. Before, I always had to save someone. Didn¡¯t have time with me to gaze. Besides, I didn¡¯t want to step into the nest of those who took my love away, who wielded the flame blades that clawed at my heart. And what sliced my veins, what hacked my soul was that I couldn¡¯t help but gaze. Didn¡¯t want to. Made me feel hollow, but I guessed that was the point.


    It was luxury, the fragrance of the Hanging Gardens, the sight of Versailles. Sunlit, circular plazas and gilded hallways connected by one mountainous mahogany grand staircase that lost its grandiosity as it burrowed its way through the lower Sections, until only concrete slabs remained at the base of the Tower, and high-speed glass elevators divided according to Section of residence, all roofed by platinum-coated indoor greenhouses which grew the plants that made up the bulk of the new world¡¯s diet. The Achroites¡¯ greenhouses, those inside, an Arcadia of fruits, vegetables, and tubers from all corners of the Earth. The lower classes¡¯ greenhouses, the outside rocks, an array of hearty beans and other legumes. Though they still served the same purpose.


    They were views I thought you could only get in the Wexford waterfront. Technology met the 1800s. To the point they believed they had achieved self-sufficiency in foodstuffs. But they still liked their meat from the southern territories. And would not do a thing to threaten it.


    But no bridges connected the abyss. At least not in Section A, which grand trees ornamented as an indoor canopy that sprung forth life in a graveyard of souls. Guessed Zielkkenhom didn¡¯t want to think of the Bridge. Or just lord over others. The Enhanceds of Section A could hover. The others needed the bridges. Dangerous things. Only protection was a security railing that reached to your upper torso. Enhanced torso. It reached my neck. No wonder Zielkkenhom made this. Had to look grand, regal. Because those inside were void as well. Vulnerable.


    Because those inside needed him, depended on him for their monthly fix. Just like the Towers. Just like the paintings and holographic screens that crawled on the walls like the million eyes of flies. Staring at you. Always. Shot ice blades through my veins, sliced them. Didn¡¯t know how Almyra could live like that. How anyone could live like that. And then I gazed at the gemstone marble floors, the achroite fountains, because they could afford to waste water there, and the platinum chandeliers that hovered over us. Simulating a baroque palace. And I realized why.


    But I still wouldn¡¯t live there. Not even if they paid me. Especially if they paid me. And then it clouted me. Gravity blasted my heart, tightened my chest. That these worldly things had entranced me like that. That I didn¡¯t even think about those in the Zielkkenhomvilles. A single zoisite statue of theirs could buy an air purifier for a ville. And some food and water.


    I was about to say something to Almyra, when I noticed her eyes, glinting autumn leaves, living death. Her father hadn¡¯t come. All the newscasters had scurried away like flies. Until only the two of us remained. And she stood still, as a zoisite statue. Just waiting. Waiting for her father. Waiting for a hug that would never come. A kiss that would never take place.


    The only one who deigned to come was a representative from Bernhart Industries, who handed Almyra some clothes and new smartwatches for us, with our old numbers. I wanted to punch him. Demand that he called Lloyd Bernhart right now. Ask him why the heck he couldn¡¯t be bothered to even talk to his only daughter after she almost died. Even if that meant consequences down the line, even if that meant they¡¯d think me a traitor, but I couldn¡¯t let Bernhart¡¯s disregard for his family slide like that. Ellie and my family would understand. The Harmonists and their sympathizers, not so much.


    But I cared about Almyra. Didn¡¯t want to be the reason for her tears. Didn¡¯t want a repeat of that New Year¡¯s Eve when I couldn¡¯t do a thing to help the girl I loved. Not that I loved Almyra or anything, she was still a Bernhart, and we had just met an hour and forty-two minutes ago, but I didn¡¯t want to forsake her. I even clenched my fists, and stepped toward the representative, but Almyra shook her head. And I knew what she wanted me to do. Because she didn¡¯t want me to make a scene? Or because she was just used to her father not being around? I hoped for the former, but I knew the latter was more likely. Bastard Lloyd.


    My soul squirmed my heart. I had Almyra Bernhart for a spoiled rich girl who got everything she wanted. But I guessed I was wrong. I stepped toward her and hugged her, but before I could even utter a sound, she shoved me back and said, ¡°Let us head to VirtuaNet, Mr. Cavanaugh. Mildred had gone there yesterday. Someone might have been in sight of her.¡± Her voice composed, so I wouldn¡¯t notice its brokenness, but I had. The Enhanceds didn¡¯t tend to care about their families, but seeing it firsthand was a blast to my chest.


    Perhaps, we Naturals were the rich ones.


    And the Harmonists could end that with their bloodlust.


    We sauntered to a VirtuaNet terminal¡ªall but Naturals and Impures could access VirtuaNet through their smartwatches¡ªand I leaped in, not into the Bridge, not into bleak hollowness, but into cheerful dismay, for the first time. Everything in VirtuaNet was a computerized model, yet somehow felt real and fake at the same time, where you could even step into an alternate reality to command massive robots as the vigilante leader of a rebellion in a Pacific island nation. Perhaps people wanted to believe VirtuaNet was real. I didn¡¯t.


    I wended my way through the crowds and collage of Victorian buildings and mansions, the free section of VirtuaNet, so the rich could flaunt their wealth in the premium section, virtualized islands and European cities they would not visit in the real world to prove their nationalism in the eyes of other Achroites, and curry favor with Zielkkenhom, and the poor could seethe in envy at the things they could not afford, at the things they would never have, lest they shot themselves with Eugenex. And could access better-paying jobs. I guessed that was Zielkkenhom¡¯s main goal. Everyone becoming a slave to Eugenex, and he the kingpin drug dealer.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I kept looking, until someone caught my eye.


    Ashley Baker.


    My Ashley, with her long auburn hair and hazel eyes. My Ashley, with her delicate face and kind smile. All of our memories together gushed into my mind again, as a stream that led to an estuary, as shoals heading to the surface. It was equal to me if I had imagined her. I leaped toward her and embraced her, as that day by the Hudson, when ashen cerulean still dyed it. ¡°How ¡­? I thought you ¡­ I saw you ¡­¡±


    ¡°The how is not important. What matters is that we¡¯re both together at last, here.¡±


    That word zapped me back to reality, well VirtuaNet reality. Here. What did she mean by here? We had argued before about VirtuaNet. She enjoyed it, but she had never forced me to accompany her. She knew how I felt about it. Those two words¡ªhere, together. I thought she was fine with me not joining her there, but should I have? But I stopped myself right there. For the only question whose answer I didn¡¯t want to know clouted my mind, the answer that meant the difference between everything.


    But despite gravity compressing my chest, I was going to have to find out. So I took a deep breath, stepped back, and whispered to her, ¡°Are you real?¡± almost as I didn¡¯t want her to hear me, because I did not want the moment to end. If she was, then how was she alive? Had someone altered her DNA? Was she an Enhanced? But if she wasn¡¯t alive, then I was losing my sanity.


    She placed her hand on my shoulder. ¡°It is of no importance if I¡¯m real or not. Maybe I¡¯m real, or perhaps, a figment of your imagination.¡± She then embraced me. ¡°What matters is that I¡¯m real to you. What matters is that I feel real to you,¡± she whispered in my ear.


    I didn¡¯t know what to think, what to do. On one hand, I wanted to stay with her. But on the other, if she wasn¡¯t real, then Gieves Syndrome was beginning to affect me, and that meant a trip to the Zielkkenhom Sanatorium for the Mentally Ill or worse, the Frontier. But I thought about my family, about Ellie. How would they have felt if suddenly I vanished, if I had stayed in VirtuaNet forever, as a fake version of me? I couldn¡¯t do that to them, nor to God. I wanted to be with Him forever in Heaven. ¡°I can¡¯t stay here with you,¡± I said, voice kind of breaking. ¡°It isn¡¯t living.¡±


    She held my hand. ¡°But we¡¯d be together, just the two of us, forever. Isn¡¯t that what you wish for?¡±


    ¡°It is, but not like this.¡± I clasped her hand. Felt as real as when I held her soft hands in the real world. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t be human,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯d be copies of ourselves.¡±


    Her eyes sagged, as glimmering carcasses. ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°But I¡¯m confident we¡¯ll see each other again. And that you¡¯ll stop your investigation and leave everything as is.¡± And just like that, she smiled and vanished.


    And I hoped everyone was going to be gawking at me, which would have meant that Ashley was real, but no one was. Everybody acted as usual. And not even the most apathetic of the Enhanceds would have missed the chance to see a couple arguing. That always made good colloquies, or rather, textloquies among them, as did bruised Almyra pics online. The smarter our machines got, the dumber we became. And the more insane I was going to become if I kept thinking about what had happened with Ashley.


    The fact that no one had seen her didn¡¯t mean I was losing my sanity. It just meant that I missed her. That was all. It had just been my imagination. She knew I was investigating. The real Ashley wouldn¡¯t know that. I had just imagined everything. Nothing more. Nothing less. But why did she want me to stop investigating? Or why did I want to stop? Was someone messing with my mind? Created a fake version of Ashley? The Harmonists? Julius? And then it clouted me. Perhaps I felt guilty about what had occurred that day, that New Year¡¯s Eve. And then the images of that day began to blast my mind but thank God someone tapped my shoulder and brought me back into the world.


    ¡°Have you not listened to your smartwatch?¡± Almyra said.


    And I almost told her about Ashley but shut the second I thought that if she considered me insane enough, she could have alerted the authorities. So I just told her the truth, minus the details. ¡°I got distracted.¡± A feign smile crossed my face.


    She knew something had happened, I could see it in her face, but she just said, ¡°I found no evidence.¡±


    All the Enhanceds gawked and gossiped as if it were a sport. Almyra didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Everyone who had seen Mildred recently informed me of her wellbeing yesterday,¡± she said. ¡°It seems Samuel murdered her.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll investigate in the Bridge.¡±


    ¡°I shall return to the real world.¡±


    Almyra then logged off and vanished. I shut my eyes, leaped, and arrived at the closest thing on Earth to that place far from God¡¯s presence¡ªthe Bridge. Still a purgatory of icy flames. I searched for possible clues regarding Mildred¡¯s whereabouts, perhaps someone she had saved, but then something struck me, and not an antivirus, but a light burst. Lights bursts again. A cacophony of blazes, heading to VirtuaNet, the real world, everywhere. And then a flicker that grew into a crown of pearl lights that struck someone heading back to the real world. Paralyzed his transport. And then something that shot ice spikes through my veins.


    Another bridger, who, in a second, snatched the immobile light blaze and escaped through a network device. And shut it three seconds before I could reach it. A Class A+? What on the ¡­? But I didn¡¯t even have a microsecond to ponder what had just happened. I¡¯d just tell Almyra once I returned. Had only sixty seconds. Took me ten.


    I leaped back to the real world, with a smile, but still thinking on that other bridger. Mildred was a bridger, and so was Samuel, but they weren¡¯t so fast. It couldn¡¯t have been them, so then who? I checked all other Class A+ bridgers¡¯ records, and none had just rescued someone. None had entered the Bridge. So then, who? Or worse, what?


    It hadn¡¯t all been an exercise in futility, though, because of that possible clue. And thanks to the light shoals, though it bothered me a tad that I cared more about the lights than about that possible unaccounted for Class A+ bridger. Reminded me of fireworks, like those of that New Year¡¯s Eve. Before the night¡¯s dream turned into midnight¡¯s nightmare. And I got to see Ashley again, even if I had just imagined her.


    The bridger I had seen was real, right? Had to be. Had to.


    For the first time I had seen Ashley since she returned to the Lord, but she was real. I felt it. Knew it.


    I was not losing my sanity. I was not. Even if I was hoping it wasn¡¯t the last time I saw her.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 10: The Girl Who Texted

    Almyra and I decided to go talk to the Impure Mildred had saved yesterday, but before we could even step on the elevator, my smartwatch rang. I answered the hologram call, despite the gravity blast to my chest, because I should have been the one who called.


    ¡°Ellie and your parents¡¯ve been worried sick of you, Cael,¡± Tim said. And I guessed he was as well. Not that he¡¯d admit it, though. He was too proud. But not a sinful pride, but more in the vein of I¡¯m proud to be an Irish kind of way. His family was living in Colorado when Yellowstone erupted. His older brother told him to wait until he returned with their parents. They never came back. And he was forsook, just like Ellie, like those considered weak by the world.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even leave a note or something! Why haven¡¯t you called them? What in the¡ª¡±


    ¡°How about saving someone¡¯s life?¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true what they said at the news conference?¡± he muttered. ¡°That you saved Almyra Bernhart instead of a Natural?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± I declared, almost as if Tim had coaxed the Naturals and Impures into joining the Harmonists. ¡°And if someone¡ª¡±


    And then Ellie arrived, wheeled herself next to Tim. And she doused the flames that formed in my stomach. Her eyes were shut, but when she opened them, they sparkled innocence. Her face, her smile gleamed as if we already rested in Heaven, with the Lord, the Virgin, and all the saints. And had left the iniquity of the Earth behind. She even wore a scapular, the Lady of Carmel One, to remind herself to offer her pain for the world, for me. She was only thirteen, but age did not impede holiness.


    ¡°But someone has a problem with that, Teacher. Not many in the districts feel that way,¡± Tim said, as he fingered his words into Ellie¡¯s hand. In Braille. ¡°Naturals are siding with the Harmonists, ¡®cuz they think you¡¯ll betray them. Or that you already have.¡±


    ¡°Assure them that I won¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°That I¡¯m with them.¡±


    ¡°You ask me to assure them, Teacher Cael,¡± Tim said. ¡°But you¡¯re there and not here. You saved a Bernhart instead of a Natural. How can I justify that? How can I justify that you¡¯re gonna receive an award from the Zielkkenhom Foundation?¡± He shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s even talk about Congressional reform of the district system. And not a good one.¡±


    Was that what Ashley had warned me about? Was that why I should have stopped investigating? But Samuel was innocent. And Mildred was alive. And I knew what it was like to be falsely accused of something. The bombs. The wails. The cries. They all pelted my mind, but vanished when I saw Ellie about to speak. Tim had asked her his question. An ice blade sleeted my veins. And I didn¡¯t know why, but maybe because she was my pr¨¢ta, my source of strength, but I feared her answer more than anything Zielkkenhom could ever do. That she¡¯d think me not worthy of being her brother, of being a Christian.


    And one second later, her answer came. ¡°You don¡¯t need to justify anything, brother,¡± she said. It was as if gravity had lightened. ¡°Jesus healed the Roman soldier whose ear Saint Peter sliced. That¡¯s all you need to say.¡± And before I could even utter a sound, she said, ¡°I admire you, brother.¡± She smiled. ¡°Not many have the fortitude to help an enemy, jeopardize their reputation, everything, to help someone. It¡¯s easy to help friends, but it takes the Holy Spirit to save an enemy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too good for this world, Ellie.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, though I don¡¯t think so,¡± she said. ¡°But it¡¯s the world we have to live in, it¡¯s the world for some reason God wants us to live in right now, and make it a little bit like Heaven, so we can have a sip of it before the real thing, so we can all live in peace, as if we were seeds that God waters on Earth, but that will only see their true tree might in Heaven. That is my aspiration, a hope that will come true, though not because we wish it on a comet, but thanks to our actions, our goodwill toward others, and our prayers. But I know that it will take a long time, time you won¡¯t be alive to measure, brother.¡± She chuckled.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    So did Tim and I, because of her dream, but I guessed that was what God wanted, before Our Lord returned, as impossible as it seemed. But the gravels barreled at my heart, lacerated it. I kind of wished I lay back in the chaos. At least, that got my mind off them. Had that been a sin? Lack of kindness for Ellie? It had been involuntary, but still, I felt my soul squirming my nerves, coiling my heart, until I had none.


    I even thought about saying I¡¯m sorry, Ellie, but she would have said, What for? I would have answered, Because I laughed when you said your hope, as if it could never happen and she would have replied, Don¡¯t be silly. It¡¯s okay to laugh. Just because Jesus never laughed in the Bible it doesn¡¯t mean it never happened. What I care about is your actions, what you do for others, what you do for God, how you follow Him, not if you chuckle or not.


    And Almyra would have thought I was insane, more than with that thing at the elevator. I glanced at Almyra. Hoped to distract myself until the gravels eroded. Even she had chuckled. But her eyes seemed like ponds, though she had not shed a tear. Her face, almost as if she believed in Ellie¡¯s hope. But she was an Enhanced. Perhaps, there was still hope for the Enhanceds, after all. And the Harmonists were snatching that of the Naturals.


    ¡°I thank God you¡¯re alive, ¨¢gend Bernhart,¡± Ellie said. ¡°Any survivor from those blasts is a miracle.¡±


    Almyra could not utter a sound, not even thanks. Not because she hated the Naturals, I had seen she didn¡¯t, but because hearing a Natural thank God for her life must have been like hearing Jesus say, None have condemned you. Go and sin no more. She must have thought the Naturals loathed the Achroites, abhorred her, but Ellie didn¡¯t, we didn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Kudos, Teacher, for saving Almyra,¡± Tim said.


    I sneered. ¡°You¡¯re only saying that because you want Ellie to like you, like you.¡± He didn¡¯t finger that last part. I chuckled.


    ¡°And besides, brother,¡± Ellie said. ¡°Tim is magnifying things. Some Naturals have voiced harsh words against you, but most support you. At least here in the district. Hunter even convinced a Harmonist adherent to reject their ways and denounce them for their violence. It¡¯s mostly the Impures who are enraged.¡±


    ¡°Because I saved an Enhanced?¡± I said. ¡°But they¡¯re Enhanceds too.¡±


    ¡°Because you did not extort her for free Achroite Eugenex.¡±


    Made sense, I guessed. The Impures sort of detested the Achroites. Internally, at least, even if outwardly they didn¡¯t show it. The Impures would never so much as utter an unkind word against the Achroites, always bootlick them, but deep down, envy corroded the Impures. That they were not Achroites. The envy that pervaded all the classes.


    I glanced at Almyra. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°I won¡¯t extort you. Definitely.¡± I turned to Tim. ¡°Are my parents there? I want to¡ª¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re at St. Cruithnech¨¢n,¡± he said. ¡°To calm down Harmonist rallies against you.¡± He hesitated a second, but then said, ¡°I¡¯ll take Ellie there later. She thinks the bastards will listen to her.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I guess she takes her naivet¨¦ from you, but don¡¯t worry, Teacher, I¡¯ll protect her.¡± He fisted his heart. ¡°On my life.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Tim. Keep things in control in the district while I¡¯m gone,¡± I said. ¡°And tell all bridgers to locate Samuel and Mildred and inform you of anything,¡± I said. ¡°That I asked them to.¡±


    ¡°So you want me to tell bridgers to do something because you said so,¡± Tim guffawed. ¡°That might¡¯ve worked yesterday, and that¡¯s a big might, but it¡¯s not gonna work today.¡± And he must have seen my face, for he said, ¡°But don¡¯t worry, Teacher, I¡¯ll see what I can do. Just remember, Teacher Cael, death before sin.¡±


    ¡°I know, Tim,¡± I said. ¡°Death before sin.¡± I paused for a second, to let my words sink in my mind.


    ¡°Godspeed, brother.¡±


    ¡°Godspeed, Ellie, Tim.¡±


    I shut the hologram call, ready to head to the Impure¡¯s lottery-won, subsidized apartment in the lowest Section, but Almyra stood, as a frozen flame. ¡°Your family seems to love you, Mr. Cavanaugh,¡± she whispered, as if she wasn¡¯t sure whether to tell me or not. ¡°My mom did. Now, I am in mere remembrance of that feeling.¡±


    I stepped toward her and hugged her. Perhaps she had a point. Her father hadn¡¯t come, but I could not remind her of that. I just said, ¡°I¡¯m sure your father loves you, Ms. Bern ¡­ Almyra.¡± Even though I felt I was lying, because I wanted to soothe her. The first time I had called her by her name. But before she could even utter a sound, I got a text. Sleet shot through my veins when I read who had sent it.


    Mildred.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 11: In the Midst of Friendly Enemies

    Stop looking for us. Samuel and I are fine. We moved to the Rim. There will be consequences if you keep looking for us. I can guarantee that.


    ¡°Thank God!¡± I yelled, so loud that even Almyra looked puzzled at my display of happiness, and some passersby gossiped about me. ¡°We can trace the text,¡± I said. ¡°And go find them in the Rim.¡±


    ¡°Return to Earth, Mr. Cavanaugh. That is still a threat,¡± Almyra said. She then held my wrist, but not like Ashley used to do. ¡°Normally I would not share your optimism, but it is Mildred¡¯s number, and furthermore, someone in the Towers sent the text,¡± Almyra said. ¡°Or at least in the city. Look at the sent and received times.¡±


    ¡°The same,¡± I said. ¡°The difference¡¯s less than an attosecond. Only a smartwatch in the city would be that fast.¡± After Yellowstone erupted, we lost instant communication from the Pacific to the Atlantic. But sometimes I didn¡¯t know if that was for the worse or for the better.


    I raced to the elevators. ¡°Come, Almyra,¡± I said. ¡°Tim can trace that call. I think deep down he¡¯s part machine.¡±


    But Almyra hauled me back, the strength of Samson, or of Saint Joan of Arch more likely. I almost crashed into the floor. Which would have hurt more psychologically than physically. Or maybe both. Because my raw Eugenex wound hadn¡¯t healed completely. Not even a healer could replace proper treatment. ¡°Let us proceed by jet,¡± she said. ¡°It shall hasten our trip.¡±


    ¡°Your jet?¡±


    ¡°One of them,¡± she said, as if she was talking about notebooks. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    We sprinted to a different elevator, biolocked, which Almyra activated with her palm and eye scan. And arrived at the Bernharts¡¯ own personal landing strip. And the second we stepped into her hangar, I felt gravity dissipate, and the gravels disintegrate. Ice blades lacerated my heart at the thought that awe would have engulfed me. That covetousness of her material possessions would have drowned me, or flame blades have seared me.


    But it didn¡¯t. They didn¡¯t. I felt nothing. If anything, I felt kind of sad for her. That she knew nothing else. That she thought life could only offer that. Transitory things that merely brought temporary happiness, happiness that turned to despair, and want of more. And more. Until you had everything, and ended up with nothing. So poor, that you only had money.


    ¡°¨¢gend Bernhart,¡± the pilot said. ¡°I take solace in your life.¡±


    ¡°I am in need of your taking us to the surface.¡±


    ¡°The surface?¡± the pilot glared at Almyra. ¡°Is this out of your own volition, ¨¢gend Bernhart?¡± He activated his smartwatch, ready to call the Tower¡¯s security forces.


    ¡°I did not let the Lieutenant¡¯s will overrule mine,¡± Almyra shot, a tad enraged. ¡°I would not let a mere Natural think on my behalf.¡±


    She pounded on that last sentence, as if she actually believed it. I hoped she didn¡¯t. She was my hope for the Achroites.


    ¡°Is President Bernhart in accord of this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he is.¡±


    I could not see hint of lying in Almyra¡¯s face, either because she was a good liar, or because I had missed an expression. And I thought it was the former, because I didn¡¯t tend to miss those. How had she become such a good liar? And more importantly, why?


    We got on the jet and it blasted off to my district. Almyra glanced at the window, looked as a tourist, in her own city.


    ¡°I think I know the answer to this,¡± I said. ¡°But have you ever been to the surface?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± she said. ¡°Once, we took one of our helicopters to land on our yatch on the harbor.¡±


    I suppressed a laugh, because she said it like anyone else would say he had taken a bus to the subway station.


    ¡°Well then,¡± I said. ¡°Get ready to head to the real surface. It¡¯s nothing like you¡¯ve read about in textbooks or seen in the news.¡± I leaned toward her. ¡°And don¡¯t mind your bodyguards. I¡¯ll protect you, Almyra.¡±


    Zielkkenhom had the capital rebuilt to his liking, even changed its name, after he usurped power. Somewhat. Not even he was that rich. It helped that the black acid rain that followed the nuclear disasters had damaged most of the city¡¯s infrastructure, and that Yellowstone¡¯s ash had shrouded all buildings in soot, in dust everyone wanted to forget, or at least pretend it didn¡¯t exist.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    1920s Art Deco style, screaming Nouveau Riche, posers, wannabes. To remind us all of our wallowing decadence with Hoover as he and his folk reigned in the skies with Victoria. So we would always be smaller, vermin ready for them to quash, or wither away into nothingness. So we would not be human in their eyes. But they were Pharisees. Pristine on the outside, putrid in the inside. And I thought on some level they must have known, but it was never comfortable to think about what you were doing wrong, much less if you didn¡¯t want to change, much less if you thought it was right.


    Zielkkenhom considered us stupid, but I always thought that it was to remind us we were his pawns, his distracted pawns who played games in VirtuaNet and shot ourselves with Eugenex, not that his folk didn¡¯t do that as well, though, as he became our supreme leader¡ªbecause I wasn¡¯t going to use the word I was certain he wanted us to use to talk about him, even if he had never said it¡ªjust like those in the 20s danced and got drunk while the economy, the country they cherished imploded right in their songs. And they could do nothing about it. Except sit and wait for demise, until the end justified the means, and the country recovered. Materially.


    But I wasn¡¯t going to fall for that. I was going to act, before society imploded again, before it was too late to do anything but sit and wait for demise, until the end justified the means, because I wasn¡¯t going to let that happen again, even if I had to wager my life.


    We landed on my bridger district, officially the Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception, carved right in the middle of the capital, Wessex. Which had not escaped Zielkkenhom¡¯s renovations. Except for my house, the only one in a turlough of small, yet spacious enough buildings for everyone to live in dignity. I fought so I could build it how I wanted. And succeeded. Built it just like the one we had in Wexford. One-story, Palladian-style, thatched roof even. A piece of my old world in my new one. A past sometimes I wanted to forget, but that I would not. Because it grounded my present, and guided my future.


    But the second we stepped out of the jet, one of the guards, volunteers really, zeroed in on us. I stepped in front of Almyra. Flame blades would have seared my veins, but I could understand him. Ivore had killed his wife because he couldn¡¯t repay his debt. Ivore, the same Fengel whose corpse I had stepped on in the blast. At least God made justice. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said. ¡°Put it down.¡±


    ¡°Tim said it was true,¡± he said. ¡°But I didn¡¯t want to believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.¡± He stepped toward me, his gun pressed against my forehead. ¡°And now I have, Cael.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not betraying you,¡± I said. ¡°Remember what Jesus says.¡±


    ¡°What of the Bernhart jets in St. Cruithnech¨¢n?¡± he said. ¡°Is that your doing?¡±


    ¡°To protect the Naturals.¡± I spotted his eyes as glinting flames. And knew what was coming. I thrust his arm away, and the bullet blasted off into a building. And now flames blades did sear me. ¡°You could have killed someone, a child even, you tuathalach.¡±


    ¡°You already did, idiot,¡± he said. ¡°I wanted to kill¡ª¡±


    And then someone kneed his lower back and thrust him into the ground. And almost as if he were bridging, he snatched the gun. ¡°Teacher, Miss, I hope I wasn¡¯t too late.¡±


    ¡°Tim,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re like a ninja there, dude.¡±


    He chuckled and we shook hands.


    The volunteer spit at my shoes. ¡°Don¡¯t betray us, bridger,¡± he said, probably thinking that I would. I prayed for him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pay attention to him, Ms. Bernhart,¡± Tim said. ¡°We¡¯re not all like that.¡±


    ¡°I need your help tracing a text I got, from Mildred,¡± I said.


    We headed to my house. Almyra just gazed at everything, until she spotted a picture of my family. And I thought she would cry, or at least tear up, because she longed for what she had lost, but she didn¡¯t. She just placed it back and kept sauntering. I felt she was inspecting my house or something, but she wasn¡¯t. Though if she were, I would have passed. Her eyes glimmered joy at the simplicity of it all. But I guessed not because it was only one-story high, but because it felt like a home. Except I hadn¡¯t built it with the quintessential fireplace. Chimneys voiced the wails in my mind.


    I thought Almyra was done, but then she stepped into my room and held a picture of Ashley and I. And then the tears began, though not many, but two. But her eyes did not falter. Her eyes were not melted icicles, but glistening blazes of justice. I placed my arm around her shoulders and I thought she would thrust me aside, as she usually did, but she didn¡¯t. She needed me. And I needed her.


    ¡°Does she guide you?¡± Almyra whispered, her voice kind of broken, but still stern. A combination I had only heard on her.


    And I did not know what to answer. I still thought of her, but she did take Eugenex. I just prayed for an answer and said the best thing I could come up with, ¡°She did, but God is my main guide, so is my family.¡± Her eyes did not glint anymore. Well, they sort of did, not with the same iridescence as before. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if that wasn¡¯t the answer you hoped for, Almyra.¡± I leaned closer to her. And she did not pull back.


    ¡°Mr. Cavanaugh, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thankful I made it on time before you two sinned,¡± Tim guffawed.


    ¡°I would never,¡± Almyra blurted. ¡°Especially not with a man I have met just a few hours ago.¡±


    ¡°Think higher of me, will you, Tim?¡± I said.


    He laughed. ¡°I traced the text. It came from St. Cruithnech¨¢n.¡±


    Almyra¡¯s eyes blazed. First time I¡¯d seen her hopeful since the debacle at the news conference. ¡°Is Mildred alive?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t necessarily Mildred, Ms. Bernhart,¡± Tim said. ¡°Could¡¯ve been anyone with her smartwatch. But most likely¡ª¡±


    ¡°Okay, thanks Tim,¡± I hollered on our way out. We just darted off, took Tim¡¯s tracking device, and sprinted to St. Cruithnech¨¢n. Mildred was there, with Samuel. And I would find them. And save the district system before it was too late.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 12: Hope Lost

    The stench of hope was still that of waste and raw Eugenex; or at least it was in the Zielkkenhomville of St. Cruithnech¨¢n. Naturals and Impures deluged the Zielkkenhomvilles as workers did 1800s industrial tenements, though Impures enjoyed more amenities. But at least infectious disease hadn¡¯t snatched the lives of those who drowned the crowded buildings. Only dysentery and starvation. I had to give Zielkkenhom that, even though he didn¡¯t do it out of the kindness of his heart, but because he was protecting his popularity that could not wither, so his world would not collapse in a storm of ill corpses as fish in the monofilaments of a drift net. So he could still be the people¡¯s deity.


    Flame blades seared my nerves when I spotted the leaflets that littered its streets and shrouded its buildings. Leaflets the ¨¢nwealdesbord always dropped from the skies at 3:00 p.m., as showers of mercy for those whose hope was gone. Leaflets Zielkkenhom had printed to convince others he was the savior of the world, as rays of hope for those who had lost all.


    The life you want ¡­ just a pill away.


    I just wanted to snatch them and hurl them at Zielkkenhom¡¯s face, so he, so all of them could at least feel for one second what they put naturals living in the Zielkkenhomvilles through, everyday.


    But what hacked my soul wasn¡¯t so much that I could lose my district if I did that, or even that I couldn¡¯t take all the Naturals to my district, but that people had fallen for it. That people believed Zielkkenhom¡¯s lies, him. Despite everything he had done. Except the Naturals in the districts. Except the Naturals in the Zielkkenhomvilles. And even that was waning. Harmonist sympathizers glared at me when I entered St. Cruithnech¨¢n with Almyra, raised their guns at me, put their fingers on the triggers. And sometimes even when I entered alone, or with my family. But I didn¡¯t care, even though at first they irked me. I still wanted to sneer at them, because they couldn¡¯t kill me, though I knew them to be the ones who salivated at seeing high-class blood spill, but I just pretended they didn¡¯t exist. That those chants echoing from the Harmonist rally were not clamoring for my corpse.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    But then I spotted something I never thought I¡¯d see. A Bernhart guard reprimanded an Impure bullying a Natural. Which was a blast to my chest again. Because I had Almyra for a selfish brat who manipulated others into doing her bidding. But she had kept through on her promise. A part of me still believed she hadn¡¯t. And that Bernhart¡¯s jets had landed to slaughter the Naturals. But they hadn¡¯t.


    The ignored pleas of those I usually helped punctured my heart. Because I could not help them. I even thought I saw Ellie and my parents, but I could not let them distract me. Tim¡¯s device said the caller was in St. Cruithnech¨¢n. And then I saw Mildred. Or someone who looked just like her. So did Almyra. Her eyes glistened joy. Though she had clenched one of her fists. To arrest Samuel, I supposed. Or go call her forces. Was it all just a ploy? Was that why she positioned her forces in the first place? I would not let her.


    We dashed through the flooded streets until I got a text. From Mildred again.


    You did not listen to me. You kept investigating. This will end badly for bridgers. Especially for you. So now suffer the consequences.


    We halted the second after we read it. Though not because of the text. But because of the blast that ensued.


    Had I just massacred the Naturals?


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 13: Harmonists

    The day my girlfriend Ashley died in my arms explosions also resonated. Not of death, though. But of joy. Fireworks. Fireworks I had ordered for New Year¡¯s Eye. Fireworks I had ordered to surprise her when I asked her to marry me, hoping she¡¯d say yes. I always thought it odd that the same sound can mean happiness or despair depending on the circumstance. And that day, the sounds did not match the events.


    Ashley must have gotten nervous when I proposed. And perhaps it had been my fault, even if I had thought it a perfect night. In front of everyone in the district¡¯s main square, televised for the rest of the district to see. Just at midnight. Just as the New Year began. I guessed that was the worst of it. I guessed that was what hacked my soul. When she drank a Eugenex vial and died from the allergic reaction that ensued.


    I wanted to grieve for her, with her, but it was not me who was able to mourn her, but her brother. Her brother who shoved me aside to lament his sister¡¯s passing. Her brother who would forever blame me for her sister¡¯s death. As for me, even though I felt my heart gone, even though I felt time still, I knew it still moved. I knew it always went on. Twenty-one minutes later I received a job request from an Achroite. And had to go save him from the Bridge. Because life went on.


    And I guessed that¡¯s what would happen now. Eventually people would remove the debris. People would go about their regular business as if nothing had happened. And only those affected would be forced to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. And act as if nothing had happened. Because time never stood still. Because time always continued. Regardless of how you felt.


    And just like that New Year¡¯s Eve, just like in Wexford, what blasted me was not the explosion, not the debris, not even the heat, but the darkness, the void of the remnants of the building that exploded next to us. And the wails, the cries of those injured. I could tolerate the darkness of the Bridge, because it was mostly silent. And vast. I could move. I could tolerate the tear gas, because despite the laments, I could move, despite the burn in my eyes. But enclosed in darkness, being pelted by hollers, I could not tolerate. Anyone would have believed otherwise. Anyone would have preferred fallen debris to the Bridge anytime. I did not. Brought me back to Wexford. A part of it my mind did not let me forget.


    I glanced at Almyra, and the second I saw only dust shrouded her, my mind burst my heart. She was safe. My family probably not. I cleared some debris that had fallen on me and helped Almyra crawl back into the street, where people darted for their loved ones, as shoals toward a food source. And gravity ripped my heart out of my chest, because I could not help them. Because I wanted to help them, but my family came first. They had escaped Eudora¡¯s air raids, only to perish by Zielkkenhom¡¯s ones.


    And then I spotted Almyra¡¯s forces. An ice blade seared my veins. A flame one sleeted my heart. And gravity pulsed through my nerves. I glanced at Almyra, hoping for an answer that would not come. ¡°Did you have something to do with this?¡± I said. ¡°Did you set up the blast? Your goons did? They were supposed to be here for protection.¡± I regretted the words the second I spoke them. Because wrath had gotten the best of me.


    Almyra¡¯s eyes glistened as diamond blazes that a stream doused. ¡°I shall disregard that last comment, Mr. Cavanaugh, as your mind must be erratic due to concern for your family,¡± she said. ¡°I had no relation with the blast. I promise you. I fulfilled my part of the deal. Bernhart security forces are here for protection. Should they have failed to execute their mission, I shall severely punish them once we find Mildred.¡±


    ¡°How can I know if what you¡¯re saying is true?¡± I said. ¡°I want to believe you, Almyra, but the blast happened right after your forces arrived.¡±


    Almyra stepped toward me, and held my hand. Gazed right at my eyes, my soul, a smile that sparkled joy. ¡°I did not set up the blast,¡± she said. ¡°Trust me, Mr. Cavan ¡­ Cael.¡±


    It was the first time she had called me Cael. And her gaze, as if I could peer into her very soul. Everything pointed to her. But she wouldn¡¯t have set up this whole thing with Mildred just to kill me, right? She had no reason to. Unless Mildred and Samuel wanted to kill me. They wouldn¡¯t have, right? But then her smile wavered into sadness for a seventh of a second, a gravity pulse shot at my chest.


    She was about to let go of my hand, and I was about to lose the only Enhanced I had considered trusting, the only Enhanced I had hope for, besides Aisha. And I almost did, my heart told me to do that, but my mind told me otherwise. And both had been right before. I felt her fingers slide, but forgetting the gravels my mind barreled at my brain, I held her hand before she pulled it back, and said, ¡°I¡¯m too involved to leave you now. I trust you, Almyra.¡±


    She smiled again, though it did not erode the gravels. I did not expect it to. But her smile withered for a second. She thought I could not see it. But I had. I would have asked her something, but I did trust her. I thought. And prayed I had made the right decision. Before it was too late.


    I was about to call my family, but I spotted the communication lines on the floor. And had to do it the old way, just like in the actual 1920s. We wended our way past the crowds, into each street of the ville, where I glanced at Bernhart¡¯s forces helping the injured. Almyra had told the truth after all. Or at least it seemed that way.


    We continued, leaped past the debris, did not look at the injured, at the corpses, because I would have stopped and helped them had I seen them, and I had to save my family. Other people had Bernhart¡¯s help. My family probably not.


    But then I spotted Bernhart¡¯s guards tending to someone who could not move his legs. I smiled. And even Almyra did. The real smile. The one you could not fake. ¡°Mom, Dad!¡± I cried.


    My mom¡¯s eyes shone brighter than the sun. ¡°Dear.¡±


    ¡°Son,¡± my dad said. And with each step my dad took, I could see him trying to hide the pain in his face. Because a soldier had shot at his knees back at Wexford. And almost lost his legs. But he did not. And even if he had, he would have taken care of his family. Even now. He still worked. In whatever jobs he could scrap by. I had told him that he didn¡¯t have to exert himself like that, that my income was more than enough to support us, but he would have none of that. He didn¡¯t want to be a burden. He wanted to feel useful. He wanted to fulfill the mission God had entrusted him¡ªto take care of his family. Something that took me a while to understand.


    I raced toward them and hugged them, because for a second there, I thought the blast had robbed me of them.


    ¡°When we saw the news of the blasts, I ¡­¡± my mom said, but her voice broke.


    ¡°Don¡¯t die, son,¡± my dad said, his voice also broken. Who then turned to Almyra, to keep himself from crying. ¡°Here¡¯s hoping my lad wasn¡¯t too much of a burden to ya, lass.¡±


    She laughed. Smiled at the normal family interactions. But her smile then wavered, because she would not have that. Could not. I guessed to her, normal meant something else.


    So I just seize her hand and pull her in. ¡°Come Almyra, you¡¯re almost¡ª¡±


    And then something clouted my back and I flinched, the raw Eugenex wound, as if it were a magnet of sorts. A healer.


    The Harmonists were distributing healers to the injured. And not just any Harmonists. But the Limbs. The top command. Marina Acquae. Terrance Vilijoen. Belisario Francisco Bolivar. Only ones missing were Nathaniel Norcross and the elusive Emilia Baudelaire. I knew Emilia enjoyed a low-profile, but I wondered where Nathaniel was. I didn¡¯t think him one to miss an opportunity to put on a show like a low-grade politician hoping to bribe his constituents with cheap trinkets, as if he and the other Limbs actually cared about the poor and injured. I just trusted Tim and Ellie were smart enough to stay home. Safe.


    Terrance Vilijoen, a refugee like myself, from the EF¡¯s southern territories, was the Harmonist leader. Sort of leader, more like their mouthpiece, because I wasn¡¯t sure he was Freedom¡¯s Voice, their disembodied voice of a leader, but I¡¯d have wagered an arapaima that he was. Odd decision at first sight, as Terrance did not immediately strike leadership, or even figurehead quality. Sturdier than average, though not by much, a diamond jaw, and just as tall as an Impure. Head shaved only at the sides and back, which made him look younger than he actually was, as he looked about my age, but he was five years older than me. And his eyes always blazed a spark of hope. So in a regular situation, Terrance would have been nothing but a peon, but this was no regular situation. And he was no regular person.


    Terrance Vilijoen commanded with his voice. To the point that even though his voice sounded as flute playing a low-key song, Terrance garnered as much attention as Zielkkenhom, if not more, because Terrance didn¡¯t even need Eugenex to address a crowd. Just pretend he was a savior. If only he worked for peace, helped Aisha and I gather support for Cael¡¯s Law reform, or even a change to Amendment 28 of the Constitution, instead of falling prey to vengeance, if all the Harmonists did, we¡¯d be free by now. Because boisterous agitators like him roused the masses, started rebellions, and paved the way for bloodshed, leaving the survivors to pick up the pieces of their insanity, and live as remnants of their former selves, once their loved ones forsook this earth. An insanity, a bloodshed I would prevent if I had to.


    ¡°So, fellow Naturals, Impures,¡± Terrance said. ¡°Look at who actually cares about you. Look at who wills for your wellbeing. Us, Harmonists.¡± He glared at me. ¡°Bridger Cael Cavanaugh is a patsy, working for the Achroites. For the Bernharts. For Zielkkenhom. For those who oppress us.¡±


    I signaled my family to leave. Before it worsened. But they stayed. A gravity blast burst my heart.


    None noticed my signal. None except Marina Acquae¡ªthe name she chose for herself, hoping to escape her past¡ªthe first Limb, and one of the Harmonist founding members, who could strike more fear into me than any of the Harmonists, right on par with Nathaniel, because Terrance and Belisario did not care about me. Marina and Nathaniel did, but not in the usual way; they were flames, and my family a dry leaf. But I¡¯d be the wave that drowned them if I had to.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Marina Acquae towered over Terrance, and she was how I pictured Ruth would look like. About twice my age, a heart shaped face that no wrinkles scratched, and from which long sepia hair flowed beneath her neck; almost as regal as any Fengel woman, even though Marina wore no jewelry but a locket, and a slightly sturdy body that did not detract from its beauty. But I still could not gaze into her eyes. Because I had seen them before.


    That was the worst of it, gashed my veins. Marina Acquae used to be my teacher, the teacher for my neighborhood, even taught me in Samuel¡¯s house so the authorities wouldn¡¯t catch her teaching refugees. She even agreed to help me change things for the Naturals. But things did not go as planned. Because her past caught up to her. And her son and husband paid the ultimate price.


    A smile had always brightened Marina¡¯s face, and hope always made its home in her eyes, until that day. Marina had always kept her hope, despite almost being trafficked to pay for her family¡¯s debts to a Fengel loan shark, until that day. Until the day she lost everything, in her mind.


    Thanks to her kind smile, Marina Acquae used to remind me of my mom, who always smiled, whose eyes always glinted hope and joy. And I held Marina in kind regard because she gave food and water to Eudora¡¯s refugees. But she smiled no more. Thought I still hoped for her. Because I¡¯d never forget her kindness to those who needed it most. I prayed that she regained her senses, before her actions forced me to fight the Harmonists.


    ¡°When tyranny becomes law, rebellion is a right.¡± Belisario paused to let his words sink into the minds of those he wanted to twist to suit his agenda.


    In his late forties. Or early fifties more likely. Belisario Francisco Bolivar. Name he gave himself when he joined the Harmonists. Fair-skinned Latino from the southern territories. A heavy accent. Real name was Manuel something. I couldn¡¯t remember, but I guessed that was the point. He thought himself a liberator, like the founding fathers of Latin America¡¯s independence movements. At first glance you would have though time travel had been discovered. Belisario had the long white hair of Francisco de Miranda. The sideburns of Simon Bolivar. The first name of Belisario Porras. And the Napoleon-like uniform commanders used to wear those days. A denim scarlet shirt with gold shoulder pads, a mustard waistband, and such tight trousers that I could not figure out how he could move in those things. Would have been funny to look at, like a man at a play, but Belisario was no laughing matter. He came up with the plan to set off the bomb that snatched my brother¡¯s soul. Wrath drowned any laughter my throat would sing.


    Belisario Francisco Bolivar hailed from poverty in search of a better life, from a southern country that used to be mired in a dictatorship until the people rose up and deposed their corrupt leader, but I could not even begin to understand why did he want to move to the mainland? The Knights of Malta, an international aid organization dedicated to truly helping those afflicted by strife and oppression all around the world, and keeping faith alive in Eudora¡¯s soulless European Federation, coordinated underground railroads to take Naturals to freedom in the southern territories. All from their headquarters up north in Pearfan?g that doubled as a shelter for homeless Naturals, so the ¨¢nwealdesbord would not shut it down.


    Most southern territories were quite autonomous, so the laws that discriminated against and restrained mobility for Naturals and Impures in the mainland had no effect south of the Rio Grande. Most of them, though. Part of the articles in the treaties that led the southern territories to join peacefully to Zielkkenhom grand union for the continent, though not that they had that much of a choice. Was just Zielkkenhom pretending to be magnanimous. The Esneas and the Naturals even lived in the same intendancies down south. And the stark divisions that pervaded core USN life did not exist in the southern territories. And yet, Belisario had deliberately sneaked into the mainland.


    I guessed he really believed in the Harmonists¡¯ ideals, like Marina, but how could Belisario have forgotten about God so easily? Replaced Him with terrorists who had no influence in the southern territories? And then it clouted me. If I had lived what Belisario and Marina had to go through, would I have become a Harmonist as well?


    I knew most people from the southern territories were not like Belisario, though. He only paid lip service to Latin America¡¯s liberators. Just twisted their words, their ideas, to suit the Harmonist agenda, to satiate his lust of power and control. How many would fall if the Harmonists won?


    I had met great Latinos. Aisha Lexington jolted my mind. Half-Panamanian, and part Brazilian, and American. She was the sweetest girl, nice to everyone, reminded me of my little sister Ellie, even though Aisha was an Achroite. Was the first Achroite who hired me, actually. And granted me Class A rank. I guessed natural law pulsed strong as a stream in her. Though, she might have been baptized, and the Holy Spirit been strengthening her this whole time.


    Flame machetes hacked my veins, as a butcher knife that scaled a fish, when I thought we had the technology to enhance our genes to attain telekinesis, and live for years without food and water thanks to Eugenex, and yet, we could not figure out how to distribute food and water to those who needed it. But then again, I guessed it wasn¡¯t a matter of not figuring out how, but a matter of us not wanting to do so.


    Not because it would be difficult. Not because it would be particularly expensive. But because if we actually helped those in the southern territories prosper, including those in the EF¡¯s southern colonies, then Zielkkenhom and Eudora¡¯s dominion would shatter as a chopped sugar cane, and they would not be able to pretend to be charitable towards the poor, since what they were doing was imposing their worldview on them, colonizing their minds, and in Eudora¡¯s case, their land as well. Though not that Zielkkenhom was that far off. ¡­


    I pleaded to my family again, cried even. They nodded and skulked away, while the crowds zeroed in on my head.


    Marina just watched. But turned her head once she saw me. And she clenched her fists. I guessed vengeance had not yet fully overtaken her. Thank God.


    ¡°He went to save Almyra Bernhart, an Achroite,¡± Marina yelled. ¡°Instead of you, my fellow naturals, my cherished Impures. Or am I mistaken?¡±


    I pleaded the same to Almyra. I did not want her hurt, but she stayed. And did not change her mind. ¡°I am too involved to leave you, Cael,¡± she whispered. I chuckled, the last one I would have in a while.


    ¡°He sprinted right past me,¡± a Natural said. ¡°And did not do a thing.¡±


    ¡°I cried for him, because I needed help,¡± an Impure said. ¡°And he did not answer my call. He went to the Bernhart girl.¡±


    ¡°I was in the Towers during the blast, and he chose to save Almyra Bernhart, even though she had bodyguards, instead of my wife,¡± the man whose wife had lain under a statue said. ¡°When he came to my wife, when he came to help us, it was already too late. And my wife had perished. Because he did not come. Because he chose an Achroite who could defend herself, over a Natural.¡±


    ¡°Those bodyguards betrayed her,¡± I hollered. The words drowned in the glinting flames of the Impures and the senseless doubts of the Naturals. But my next words would not drown. ¡°How can you forget about God?¡± I bellowed. ¡°How can you forget about Jesus? About saving your enemy? I fought for you. For the district system. For your freedom. Your food and water. Your greenhouses. I fought so you did not have to depend on Zielkkenhom, on me, on anyone for food, but on yourselves. I fought for raising the districts¡¯ quota. And now, you¡¯re going to throw that away, you¡¯re going to jeopardize your eternal salvation, forget everything I have done for you, everything God has done for you, everything, just for a stupid healer?¡±


    The Naturals remained silent. Hauled on one side by the Harmonists. And on the other side by me. Even the Impures¡¯ face had changed. Their glinting eyes had stopped glinting. And doubt remained. At what I was saying. And at what the Harmonists were saying. Terrance stood on top of debris. But I leaped to an even higher debris pile. And almost lost my footing, but I flexed my knees on time. So that I stood taller than him. Because in speeches, in politics, in everything, perception ruled. Sadly.


    ¡°Cael¡ª¡±


    ¡°God does not manipulate,¡± I hollered, from the depth of my soul. Because I believed the words. ¡°Jesus does not manipulate. He leads with the Truth. The Harmonists lead with lies and twisted half-truths that only serve themselves, and will only enslave you, like the Achroites do.¡± I paused for a second to let the words sink in. Hoped that they had. ¡°But you¡¯re smarter than that. I know it. God does. So don¡¯t trade your eternal salvation for terrorist lies. And live, not for the Harmonists, but for God, for Jesus,¡± I said. ¡°Soon, we will change things, without violence,¡± I declared. But I was not certain I could fulfill that last part. Only try.


    ¡°Our country is a powder keg, and we are like people smoking in an arsenal. A single match will set off an explosion that will consume us all. I cannot tell you when that explosion will occur, but I can tell you where. Some ill-conceited attack right here in the capital will set it off.¡±


    I glared at the Harmonist Limbs. ¡°Do you want to be the fools who set it off?¡± I stared at the crowds. ¡°Or do you?¡±


    Sometimes I wondered if Esne guards could storm in and shoot the Harmonists Limbs once and for all. Or if I could have been justified in killing them, but it slashed my veins, the thought of murdering someone in cold blood. Zielkkenhom and his goons didn¡¯t care, but they still hadn¡¯t taken decisive actions against the Harmonists leaders. County jail for most. I guessed murdering Terrance and his sycophants would have ignited an uprising, and Zielkkenhom was no fool. Too drunk with power to jeopardize it over glorified graffitists. Because for better or for worse, they had scaled down the bombings after the water plant incident that snatched my brother¡¯s soul.


    I guessed the Harmonists found out violence did not win people¡¯s minds. Violence did not brainwash reborn minds. Slanderous rumors and half-truths about innocent people did. And the Harmonists spared no target for their lies. So although I had thought them just a nuisance once they dropped their weapons, I had heard them talk, I had seen, I was seeing the false hope they kindled in the Naturals¡¯ eyes, even in the Impures¡¯ eyes; and saw what I did not want to see, what Zielkkenhom and the Enhanceds did not want to see. The Harmonists were an illness, spreading as a sailfish over our nation. And we did not mind. Worst was, I wasn¡¯t sure we could stop it once it infected our brains, our veins, and spread all over our nerves, until war remained the sole cure.


    But if I killed the Harmonists right now, if any Esne guard did, then was I so different from the Enhanceds they criticized? Were we so different from the Harmonists? If we used the methods of the enemy, I guessed that kind of made us the enemy as well. I guessed it emboldened their claims. And turned us into hypocrites. But I was not them.


    The crowds just stared at me, so did the Harmonists, but Marina and Nathaniel seemed to clamor for such an explosion. Thank God Terrance was their leader. He was sensible. Or at least he looked like that, but I could have been mistaken, as I had been before about someone else.


    The Naturals and Impures did not say a word, until one dared to spoke. I stepped down in case I had to sidestep or something, but he said, ¡°We give you one last chance, bridger Cael Cavanaugh.¡±


    But before I could even smile, or even breathe, a breaking news alert emerged in our smartwatches. Julius¡¯ address to the nation was about to begin. In the Square of the Naturals to boot. The caption:


    Congressional reform on the Autonomous City system.


    The bridger district system.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 14: Wretched Nabritt Bastard

    ¡°Fellow citizens of the United States of the North,¡± Julius declared. ¡°I speak to you, not as Lieutenant, but as one of you. For I am one of you. I feel your pain, as I have been hurt. As every Natural and Impure whose life was irreparably affected in the blast. For each and every single one of you, Natural, Impure, Esne, Tussenvolk, Fengel, Achroite, is a vital constituent of this state.¡±


    Almyra sneered. ¡°If he were in Zielkkenhom¡¯s place, he would have slaughtered them all,¡± she said. ¡°Right now a team of specialists is modulating his voice so it sounds deeper than usual.¡±


    ¡°And with more gravitas,¡± I said. But you could not fake gravitas.


    ¡°However, this pain, our pain,¡± Julius stated. ¡°Shall not impede me from bringing to justice those who must be punished, from providing peace, stability, and social cohesion to our great nation. For it is only through peace, through swift justice, that this great nation of ours shall prosper. For justice, peace, equality, rest as the foundations of our nation.¡±


    The Impures cheered as if Julius was their savior, telling people what they wanted to hear, to twist their hearts. But what ripped my heart right out, shot a gravity pulse at my chest, was that the Naturals were listening. The Naturals, those who had given me their last vote of confidence, those who claimed to believe in God, those who claimed to follow Jesus, gazed at Julius as if he were St. Paul, or, more likely, Luther. And even I could not speak when he spoke, not because the modulations, though that helped, but because he actually believed his words. And sounded true. Even though they were lies.


    ¡°We survived certain collapse before,¡± he declared. ¡°And we shall do so again, because you are strong, because you are valorous, because we are one. We are one nation, together, fighting, longing, for unity, peace, stability, and social cohesion. Which we have achieved, though we are not still a perfect union.¡±


    The Naturals leaned ahead, almost as if they wanted to grab Julius¡¯ hand and plead for his help. As if only a graze of his clothes sufficed, as if only a graze of his shirt would heal you. I supposed evil guised itself as light. Light that blinded. Until you couldn¡¯t see. And plummeted to the endless abyss from which there¡¯s no going back. But how could the Naturals fall for his lies? Just because he made good speeches?


    I glanced at Almyra, her eyes, as barrens on which forests used to lie, as streams through which rapids used to flow. Almost as if she wanted to reach out to the Naturals, hug them, and say to them that he¡¯s lying. But then whom would they follow? Did she want the Naturals to acquiesce to Bernhart? Was her father planning a coup or something?


    ¡°And we shall not achieve perfect unity, peace, until we eradicate the pests that claw at us from the inside, gnaw at our organs, until we lay on a hospital bed, unconscious, ready to die, and with no power to defend ourselves,¡± Julius declared.


    His modulated voice seemed like a whisper due to the cheering and clapping that sprang forth where he delivered the press conference. And from the Impures right next to me. And some Naturals. Even they had started cheering. A flame axe to my soul. Because the responsibility lay not on Naturals, mostly, but on him, for lying to them, to the Impures, to everyone. But at least my God-given voice was deeper than his especially modulated one. A chuckle in an ocean of tears that had not been cried, of blood that had not yet been shed, of ice that had not yet melted.


    ¡°So we shall act now, my fellow friends,¡± Julius said. ¡°Here is evidence that Class B ¨Cbridger Samuel Gieves acted jointly with the terrorist group known as the Society of Harmonious Friends United in Constitutional Righteousness in setting up the blasts that injured dozens in our Square, in bombing themselves into oblivion, in cheering as our blood spilled.¡±


    ¡°His blood crystallizes just like any Achroite¡¯s does,¡± Almyra muttered. ¡°So what is that idiot talking about?¡±


    And then a video emerged. Of the Harmonists, passing as Almyra¡¯s bodyguards, blowing themselves up. But something else was shown. Something I did not think of seeing. Ever. Because I did not think him capable. I knew of his past, but to come to that extreme?


    It showed Samuel hurling something at the floor just before the blasts exploded. And then carrying what looked like a body bag in the midst of the chaos. An ice blade sliced my veins that a flame one then melted. A gravity blast exploded in my chest, which blazes then composed. I had vouched for his innocence. And he was guilty? He could not be. He could not. He was innocent. So was Mildred. The gravels barreled my mind as bullets. Bullets that I could not dodge, despite the slowness. Bullets that would not kill me, despite the pain.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°At least the Harmonists had the decency to kill themselves in the process,¡± Julius said. ¡°But Natural Samuel Gieves had not. Because he murdered his wife. And was in need of disposing of the body before the authorities arrived, before we arrived and put him through justice. Executed him for his crimes against collaborators of our great nation, as you all are.¡±


    ¡°Are you still in belief of that disfigured savage¡¯s innocence?¡± Almyra asked, hoping I said I was not.


    But I almost did not hear her. And I did not want to betray the only surviving member of the family who had saved ours. I wanted to believe he was innocent, but my mind told me otherwise. My brain. They all cannoned at me. Guilty. He¡¯s guilty. He killed Mildred. You¡¯re protecting a wife killer, a domestic abuser. You¡¯re horrible for siding with a criminal. You should go to prison as well. You have Gieves Syndrome. And you¡¯re insane. Like Samuel¡¯s father. You always loathed¡ª


    ¡°Are you alright, Cael? Your eyes ¡­¡±


    Almyra looked as if as sleet burst in her eyes, as frozen snow crystals. Even more frightened than when her bodyguards were going to hurl her at the abyss.


    I held her hand. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Almyra, don¡¯t worry.¡± A third blast¡ªwell, not technically a blast, but a tug¡ªto my heart. Because I had her for a selfish brat. But she cared about me. And others. Or at least I hoped she did. Because if not, her lies were better than Julius¡¯ ones. But when I said I trust her, I meant it. And it hit me. ¡°I still think Samuel¡¯s innocent, Almyra,¡± I said. ¡°I trusted you, when I had no reason to. Grant him the same favor, please. If you knew what he¡¯s gone through, you¡¯d ¡­ you wouldn¡¯t be calling him a disfigured savage.¡±


    ¡°But the video ¡­¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°One last chance, Cael.¡±


    I hugged her.


    But almost as if Julius was watching us, and perhaps he was, with all the cameras, he raised his voice to the point that it sounded louder than thunder. ¡°So President Fain, in coordination with his Cabinet, and Congress, has decided:


    ¡°One: to cede Samuel Gieves¡¯ district to bridger Cael Cavanaugh¡¯s one, which shall now house a new branch of the Zielkkenhom Foundation. And shall have its population quota increased, though only to house Impures. We plan on making that portion of the district a Tower outside of the Zielkkenhom Towers. Pure Victorian.¡±


    A blizzard sleeted my nerves. Until I could not feel a thing.


    ¡°Two: all other districts in the capital shall have their quotas minimized.¡± Julius could not hide his sneer. ¡°And as punishment, for the Harmonists are mostly comprised of Impures, the Impures and Naturals who lived in Samuel Gieves¡¯ autonomous city shall be relocated to the nearest Quarter.¡±


    The official name of the Zielkkenhomvilles.


    ¡°This is an official gramercy to natural Cael Cavanaugh,¡± Julius said. ¡°Who single-handedly saved Almyra Bernhart. Chose her over the Naturals. Who has been a fine collaborator for us. So we expect all of you to cheer him, to root for him, as he receives his Honorary Achroite Award from the Chairman himself.


    ¡°We shall even grant Cael Cavanaugh¡¯s Autonomous City the food and water earmarked for the other Autonomous Cities and Quarters so he feeds his new Enhanced population.¡±


    I did not look at the crowds. My imagination sufficed.


    ¡°So, Natural Cael Cavanaugh,¡± Julius declared, trying to hide his sneer. ¡°From the Chairman¡¯s heart, I congratulate you, for your service and goodwill to the Achroites, to the Zielkkenhom Foundation, to Almyra Bernhart, to our great nation.¡± He scoffed. Did not even try to hide it. ¡°May you succeed in all your endeavors, Cael Cavanaugh.


    ¡°That is all for now, my fellow friends, so remember to denounce any suspicious activity involving the Harmonists, denounce your neighbors. The true heroes are those whose vigilant eyes prevent trouble, so we act instead of react, and you assist us all in our fight against those who would bring us down.¡±


    I knew exactly what that idiot was doing. Pitting the Naturals against Almyra and me. Their death glares said it all. I guessed Julius wasn¡¯t really trying to get the Naturals to support him, unless that was his original plan but let his feelings of vengeance and inferiority overtake him. Zielkkenhom was calm and composed. Wouldn¡¯t have let something as petty as online taunts derail his agenda. But Julius Nabritt was no Zielkkenhom. For better or for worse.


    ¡°And remember also to thank Cael Cavanaugh,¡± Julius said. ¡°For this would not have happened without him. Goodbye, my fellow friends.¡±


    Wretched Nabritt bastard.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 15: Mad Dash

    Thank God my family had listened to me and left. Almyra had not. I had not. And the debris came. But not at me, at her. ¡°You¡¯re a bunch of cowards who¡¯ve forgotten about God!¡± So easily.


    ¡°You defend her?¡± a Natural said, his eyes, as endless glinting flames, though not of justice.


    ¡°At the expense of us? You defend Marie Antoinette?¡± an Impure growled. His butcher knife as a tungsten needle, their pointless hunger satisfied with our carving, their actual hunger, unnoticed with our deaths.


    ¡°It¡¯s equal to me what you think,¡± I said. ¡°But I won¡¯t let you or anyone butcher someone in cold blood, not even if she were Empress Dowager Cixi.¡± She kind of was, though. But just a tad.


    ¡°Join us,¡± Terrance shouted. ¡°All of you shall become Achroites if you do.¡±


    ¡°We gave you a last chance, bridger,¡± a Natural clamored. ¡°And you wasted it. You lost it.¡±


    ¡°I did not,¡± I said. ¡°You were the ones who lost. So get back on track before it is too late for you.¡±


    I thought the Natural had listened. But he just hurled his debris piece at my thorax. I sidestepped and pushed Almyra aside, away from the rocks. But I glanced at her face. Stern. Not a hint of fear. Unlike me. I feared, though not because of the debris. But because of the gravels of the mind, which blasted my head more than any debris could ever do. By saving Almyra, had I led them to sin? Should I have left her alone? I knew the answer to that question. I thought.


    There must have been something poetic about escaping an angry mob trying to lapidate you. But then something clouted me. Not debris, but I wished it had been. Another text. From Mildred. I did not want to answer it, but perhaps it was a clue. After everything, something good had to come of it. I read the text. And it did not.


    Sucker.


    I had gambled everything on a lead, on a single clue, and lost it all. But at least my family was safe back in the district, even if it had cost me the support of some Impures and a few Naturals. Almyra contacted her security forces¡¯ head operative and ordered him to let the crowd disperse on its own. The last thing we needed was a propaganda boost for the Harmonists if Bernhart¡¯s forces massacred the enraged pack.


    An ice blade lacerated my nerves. I called Tim but he didn¡¯t answer, so I just texted him. But he was smart. He knew what to do. I hoped. We sprinted our way through the narrow waste rivers of St. Cruithnech¨¢n, praying it wasn¡¯t too late to head to my district. My family had to be safe. But then some Harmonists cut our path and aimed at us, but some ¨¢nwealdesbord soldiers blasted their heads before they could even fire. Guessed to protect Almyra more than me, even though they were not under Bernhart¡¯s direct command, but still. No change in expression in Almyra¡¯s eyes. Spears of ice lacerated her face. And clouts of guilt pummeled me that I felt nothing for those Harmonists deaths. But it had been in defense. They had brought it upon themselves for seeking violence. For attempting to murder Almyra and I. The gravels pounded me. Sounded more callous than usual, though not as much as an Achroite. I had to watch that.


    I told the Esne soldiers to just seize the agitators and not kill them, but before they could even take a step forward, one of the soldiers placed his hand on his forehead and sat. A blood pressure drop? He removed the hooded portion from his uniform to pass a healer by his face, but a bullet shot right through his skull. His blood partially spilled, not crystallized as fast as an Achroite¡¯s. Bastard Harmonists. Wanted to kill them myself. That soldier wasn¡¯t a threat at that moment. Only way to kill an Enhanced. Eugenex could make an Enhanced brain regenerate organs, but it could not make the brain regenerate itself.


    The ice in Almyra¡¯s face thawed. ¡°Now should I grant the order to kill?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I knew how she felt. I cared about the Esneas too. But a massacre out of vengeance was not the right way. That¡¯d have only led to an outright war. What I was trying to avoid. So I said, ¡°Ask them to surrender peacefully and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only kill if the horde insists on violence, even if they are Naturals,¡± she said. ¡°You are correct. I let my wrath overcome proper reasoning.¡±


    The words pounded my brain. Even if they¡¯re Naturals. I was not betraying them. I was not.


    The soldiers shot the Harmonists that had killed their comrade and carried the fallen soldier to the headquarters. Concern engulfed the soldiers¡¯ faces. Few times I had seen them concerned. I wanted to help them, but we had no time. And I still hadn¡¯t heard from my family. We dashed to the exit, but heard footsteps, so we darted into an alley, thinking on how to escape. I didn¡¯t want to make my family a target. I thought fear would slither through my veins. Or anxiety. But exasperation pricked my nerves. That I would let Almyra down. That I¡¯d let Samuel and Mildred down. That I¡¯d let my family down. Even Almyra had hunched a tad. Guessed more concerned about Mildred than about her own life.


    But then I spotted someone. Hunter. Medium build. Short brown hair with spikes. I had helped his family a few times, when they could not afford food. He signaled us to head into his tenement, vacant because of the protest. The door shut. And the crowd split to find me. They would not. ¡°Thanks, Hunter,¡± I said. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I think you did the right thing, Cael,¡± Hunter said. ¡°But right now you¡¯re wanted.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re risking your life to help us, so thanks again. I hope I can return the favor after this is over.¡±


    Hunter hesitated. Wavered for a second, as if he himself couldn¡¯t believe the words he was about to say. But he just stared right at us and said, ¡°I saw Samuel earlier, talking to a Harmonist.¡± He paused, as if the words pained him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cael.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± I said. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°He is guilty, Cael,¡± Almyra said. ¡°I am in knowledge of your belief in his innocence, but evidence is evidence.¡±


    ¡°What if Julius made a fake video?¡±


    ¡°I highly doubt so,¡± Almyra said. ¡°As much as I loathe the Lieutenant, not even he would edit a video to frame someone.¡±


    ¡°But he didn¡¯t explode,¡± I said. ¡°So maybe he only set the tear gas.¡±


    ¡°Do you listen to yourself?¡± she said. ¡°Why would anyone be in need of releasing a tear gas canister or a smoke bomb, if not to commit a crime?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I just ¡­ I ¡­ I can¡¯t let an innocent person be framed, go to jail for something he didn¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not innocent,¡± Almyra declared.


    ¡°I think you should leave it at that, Cael,¡± Hunter said. ¡°And let the authorities find out. Your district could be in trouble if you prove them wrong.¡±


    ¡°What about you, Almyra?¡± I said. ¡°You asked me to help you because you thought Mildred was alive. Or do you believe she¡¯s dead just because Julius said so? Just because a video says she died?¡± I prayed and prayed, did everything not to think on the gravels of the mind. Not to think on my family¡¯s risk. Not to think on anything. But on Almyra. On her answer. On some level, I wanted her to convince me I was doing the right thing. It was stupid. I knew. But I didn¡¯t want to remember the wails, let them carve my mind, until I no longer had one. We were framed in Wexford. And it did not end well. Please say that she¡¯s alive.


    Each second felt like an eternity. And with each second, gravity blasted my chest, louder, and stronger. Until I felt it haul my soul down.


    ¡°I ¡­ I ¡­¡±


    Please Almyra.


    ¡°I am in thought of her being alive,¡± she said. ¡°Despite the footage.¡±


    That lightened the gravity that compressed my chest. Because someone believed me. Because I was doing the right thing.


    ¡°If you decide to follow Samuel,¡± Hunter said. ¡°Do it at your own risk, Cael, but Julius won¡¯t take it lightly if you prove his mistake.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what he thinks,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re already enemies anyway.¡±


    ¡°Samuel went north,¡± Hunter said. ¡°That¡¯s the last thing I know about him.¡±


    My family jolted my mind. Would they be safe? I had to trust Tim. He was mature enough to handle the situation. But if Samuel went to prison for something he didn¡¯t do, the wails would have barreled at me again. And I could not have that. But if my family perished because I was looking for him, then the gravels would have buried me again. And I could not have that either. I glanced at Almyra. Her feet pointed north.


    ¡°You can go to your¡ª¡±


    I smiled at her. And despite my mind blasting into my eardrums that I had chosen wrong, despite my heart hauling me in the opposite direction, I declared, ¡°Let¡¯s go find Mildred and Samuel.¡±


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 16: Hope

    The crowds roamed outside, awaited us, expected us, salivated for our blood. I spotted them outside. Not many. Just a few. But even a few people with rocks and debris could kill you. I glanced at Almyra, who had leaned forward. Her feet pointed at the door. Her eyes, glimmering bursts of justice, as if she somehow was responsible for what had happened, as if somehow, she was responsible for what the Achroites had done to the Naturals. I did not think she was.


    But before she could even step ahead, I held her arm. ¡°I won¡¯t let you.¡±


    ¡°I am not in need of your permission to do anything, Cael.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you go kill yourself in that mob,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go. You find Samuel and Mildred.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± she said. ¡°So I must live being in knowledge that I snatched you of your family?¡± She glared at me. The first time. Then I found out she had only glared another person like that before. And it blasted my heart. ¡°So I must live being in knowledge of my causing your sister¡¯s tears?¡±


    Her eyes changed. Turned into dried out turloughs. And I was the reason.


    ¡°So you¡¯re asking me to do nothing as they lapidate you?¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ I ¡­ I risked my life to save you.¡±


    ¡°You are not in need of repeating that.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I said. ¡°Because what you¡¯re asking me, I can¡¯t do. I will not stand by as they kill you.¡±


    ¡°I shall not remain idle while they lapidate you either.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s both head out,¡± I said. ¡°And make a break for it.¡±


    ¡°Be not stupid, Cael,¡± she said. ¡°Should we do that, we shall both perish.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s what it¡¯s going to take,¡± I said. ¡°Because if you go, I go. If they want to lapidate you, they shall be forced to pass by my bloody corpse.¡±


    And I could not decipher Almyra¡¯s state of mind. Because on the one hand, she wanted to go. But then I spotted her other foot. And it did not point forward. But to me. Though not because of her, not because she wanted to preserve her life, or save herself, but because perhaps she didn¡¯t want to sadden me. I had already lost Ashley. And now I would lose her if she went. Was that it? ¡°Why do you care about me, Almyra?¡± I said. ¡°Is it just because of my family?¡±


    ¡°I care about everyone.¡±


    ¡°Treating everyone nicely does not mean you¡¯ll sacrifice yourself for every person you see.¡±


    ¡°You did for me.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not every person I see.¡±


    Almyra stepped toward me. ¡°So then why did you save me?¡± she said. ¡°Up to that point, I was only Almyra Bernhart, daughter of Bernhart Industries CEO. Your enemy.¡±


    ¡°Because I have to save everyone,¡± I declared. Thought it a half-truth though, which I had already practiced.


    ¡°You are not in capacity to fool me,¡± she said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn the tables on me, Almyra,¡± I said. ¡°This is about you. I know it¡¯s not just because of my family that you care about me.¡± I lied. I did not know. I regretted the words, but delivered them as if I was saying the truth. Because deep down, I believed there was more, even if I didn¡¯t know it yet, even if I had no idea what it was.


    She muttered something but then closed her mouth. Because she did not know what to say. Because she had not practiced her answers. Which punctured my heart, ruptured my soul. Was I a liar for rehearsing half-truth answers? Was she being more truthful than I?


    I had not thought about it until that point. Because that¡¯s how the gravels worked. Sealed in your mind, asleep, until a trigger shot them into your brain, your conscience, and you drowned in a m¨²nlach of your own making, g¨¢illeog by g¨¢illeog. Putrid mire that you could not avoid. A prisoner of your mind. Where do you flee, when your mind holds you captive?


    ¡°Let me go and I shall inform you.¡± She chuckled.


    ¡°Then I guess I¡¯ll never know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll head outside,¡± Hunter yelled.


    Almyra¡¯s face paled. Her eyes, as old gemstones, that even though they did not look like it, they were more valuable than the news ones. Because they were heirlooms. ¡°Do not.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, once you two finish arguing they shall have razed the apartment.¡± He laughed.


    ¡°What about your¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got no family, miss.¡± His eyes, glinting blazes the Holy Spirit doused. ¡°A top Achroite ordered my wife and children killed,¡± he muttered, trying to keep the tears from splattering against the floor. ¡°Because my children muddied his shoes by accident. Though I supposed he wanted to keep appearances. Seem immaculate, like Ananias and Sapphira. And let other clot their hands.¡±


    Almyra hunched. Her eyes, watery flames that sought justice and consolation. I guessed perhaps, she did care about everyone, as I. And Hunter must have seen Almyra¡¯s face, for he said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry miss, it wasn¡¯t your fault. One Achroite does not evil the others make.¡±


    But in the Achroites case it was more likely, one Achroite does not holy the others make.


    ¡°Following Jesus means putting Him first, others second, and you last,¡± he said. ¡°Not third. Last. And I ¡­ I had not fulfilled my mission. But I think God is granting me a chance now, to mend my mistakes.¡±


    ¡°What mistakes?¡± I blurted. ¡°Your wife and children died.¡± I shut my mouth the second after the words came. Thankfully he did not pay attention to them.


    ¡°Let me do this,¡± he said. ¡°For your sake. And for mine.¡±


    Almyra hugged him. I did as well. ¡°Godspeed, Hunter.¡±


    ¡°Godspeed, both of you,¡± he said. ¡°I just hope everything ends well for you. May you clear up Samuel¡¯s name.¡± His smile wavered at that last portion. But I would save Mildred and Samuel and my family. And deal with the consequences later. That was the only approach I could endure.


    He had risked his life for us, for Almyra Bernhart, for the guy who had saved Almyra Bernhart. Not all was lost.


    Hope still remained.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 17: The Lie that Saved Us

    I work with the Achroites.


    Hunter¡¯s lie. The lie that saved us. The words that saved us. The words that would always echo in the crevasses of my mind. But I did not cry. Did not even want to. Not because I didn¡¯t care for Hunter. I did. But because he died saving someone else. What better way to return to the Lord?


    We skulked our way past the crowds and stepped out of St. Cruithnech¨¢n. Even flooded in sweat, Almyra looked like a princess, who could save you, or kill you. But I just tapped my smartwatch. I did not have time to ponder about such things. And someone had called.


    ¡°Teacher,¡± Tim said.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m the one who¡¯s going to kill you for not answering!¡±


    Usually he¡¯d chuckle, but I guessed the news were already broadcasting the Harmonist protests still raging. I just hoped the agitators had the common sense to surrender in peace. ¡°Someone contacted me with information about Samuel,¡± he said. ¡°She said she spotted someone like Samuel with a Harmonist in the Palmas District.¡± A minute tract carved from a neighborhood in Pearfan?g up north.


    ¡°Order¡ª¡±


    But before Tim could tap his watch, someone called me.


    ¡°That lapse in judgment from one of my district¡¯s denizens shall be swiftly punished, as I see you¡¯re still with the enemy,¡± the bridger¡¯s hologram said. ¡°Well, no surprise there, given that you¡¯re prone to treachery and betrayal.¡± I instantly recognized her. Delilah Lemmingson. President of the National Bridger Association. About ten years older than me, long cerise hair that flowed into her lower back, and a sly intellect that helped her become the first woman to achieve Class A rank, but ever since the Non-Enhanced Defense Act, sheer wrath drowned her face whenever she saw me.


    ¡°Almyra¡¯s not the ¡­ I don¡¯t have time for this,¡± I said. ¡°Please, seal off your district. That¡¯s the only way we¡¯ll find Samuel.¡±


    ¡°I lost trust in you when you signed that deal with Zielkkenhom,¡± she said, her voice muffled. ¡°And then you received that award.¡± She sneered. ¡°The worst part was that I really thought you were going to stand up to Zielkkenhom. I really thought you were going to change things. And I supposed you did.¡± She glared at me. ¡°But for the worse.¡±


    Delilah was the leader of the Palmas Autonomous City. The bridger known as The Lady of Omniscience since she carried out her little spy operation in her district after the Non-Enhanced Defense Act passed. Tracked all communications, online, and even in the real world. Nothing went past her. Most bridgers who belonged to the association did, to check those who lived within their domains didn¡¯t have contact with me, but she was the first one. And if you did manage to sneak something past Delilah, then you¡¯d better pray.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to take that stupid award,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about the award, Feather Lad,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s about what it represents. It¡¯s about what your damn watered-down law represents. You chose them over us.¡±


    Almyra gasped. She and I both knew what Feather Lad meant. But I would not go back to those memories. I just shook my head when Almyra turned to me. And she knew what I was thinking.


    ¡°What them? What us? We¡¯re all humans,¡± I said.


    ¡°That Bernhart chick really made a number on you, huh?¡±


    ¡°Why are you forgetting about God?¡± I said. ¡°I thought you were smart, smarter than me. Never na?ve. But now you¡¯re being na?ve, and acting dumb. Don¡¯t let the Harmonists into your brain.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need the Harmonists to tell me what to think,¡± Delilah said. ¡°I came to that decision by myself.¡±


    ¡°So you forgot about Jesus on your own,¡± I said. ¡°That just makes it worse.¡± I guessed I had thought the Naturals were steadfast, bridgers above all, who did not live in inhumane conditions, but they just stood a bridge away from drinking Eugenex. And calling it quits for good.


    ¡°I know you just want Ashley¡¯s rebound¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ashley¡¯s rebound?¡± Flame blades sliced my veins. ¡°She¡¯s only been dead for a month!¡±


    ¡°I shall remodel your district, Miss,¡± Almyra said. ¡°On my money. How much do you want? A hundred million new dollars? Five hundred? A billion? You tell me, and I shall pay. But first, seal the district, so Samuel may not escape.¡±


    ¡°Would your dad¡ª¡±


    ¡°Be in silence, Cael.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it, H?ft.¡±


    The call shut off. And only Tim¡¯s hologram remained.


    ¡°Take care of my family, Tim,¡± I said. ¡°Put our district on lockdown as well. Don¡¯t let anyone in. Let the Impures protest if they want, but keep them away from my house.¡±


    ¡°I will, Teacher,¡± he said. ¡°But hurry. The protest is dying out, but the Harmonists are broadcasting the deaths of the violent agitators as martyrs for freedom. So I don¡¯t know how long I can keep the protests at bay.¡±


    The gravels pummeled every neuron in my brain, every cell in my bloodstream, but my family would survive. The country would survive. I just needed to exonerate Samuel. And reform the Non-Enhanced Defense Act with Almyra¡¯s help.


    I shut off the call. And raced for Palmas. As if racing for the crown that doesn¡¯t rot. To find Samuel and Mildred. This time. For real. We would find them.


    We would save our country.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 18: The Truth

    Some volunteer guards stopped us on Palmas¡¯s entrance. Already indoctrinated with National Association of Bridgers¡¯ words against me, though fear still spiked their faces. That they¡¯d say the wrong thing, and Delilah would listen. She¡¯d even track the location of her district¡¯s citizens. She and most other bridgers. I guessed they were forgetting about God.


    ¡°So Cael Cavanaugh and Almyra Bernhart,¡± one of the volunteers said. He glared at us. His hand on his gun holster. I flexed my knees and clenched my fists. Almyra slid her hand into her dress pocket, to get my pocketknife. ¡°The bosslady says you can pass. But first she wants a wire transfer to her account.¡± He glared at Almyra. ¡°A billion, Miss.¡±


    Money trumped principle, I guessed. For better or for worse. Almyra made the transfer from her account, as if she was handing someone a dollar, and said nothing. Her face, expressionless. I guessed no price was too high to find out the truth about Mildred. I guessed Almyra didn¡¯t want the volunteers or Delilah to think she was weak. Something I could understand. Though I knew I couldn¡¯t control my emotions as well as her.


    ¡°Samuel was last seen in the building over there. But we¡¯ve surrounded it, so he ain¡¯t got a chance.¡±


    ¡°Was Mildred with him?¡± Almyra asked.


    His silence answered better than words. ¡°Thanks anyway, man.¡±


    We darted our way through the empty streets, hoping, that Samuel and Mildred were there. I did not think of the Harmonists. Or why Samuel was talking to them? Or anything. All my focus rested on finding them. We arrived at the building where Mildred¡¯s texts were coming from. Tim¡¯s device said so. I hoped it was working properly.


    We set foot on the building and the guards let us pass. And then we heard wails and cries. And yelling. Coming from an apartment in one of the upper floors. We raced ahead but I missed a step and plummeted. Twisted my ankle. But Almyra passed her healer. And it helped. Somewhat. I would endure the pain.


    It was an old building, stench of mold deluged us. But I smiled. Not because I liked the fetidness, but because it probably hadn¡¯t been retrofitted yet. And it still carried regular locks. Thank God. Almyra handed me my pocketknife and I cleared the lock to the top apartment, where Tim¡¯s device said Mildred¡¯s texts came from. I handed my pocketknife back to Almyra in case she needed it. And stepped inside. And saw Samuel. And a Harmonist.


    And Mildred¡¯s corpse.


    I had found Samuel, but Mildred had died. Flames, sleet, gravels, all combined and blasted my soul with the strength of a gravity pulse. To the point I felt I would lose it. I glanced at Almyra. Her eyes, not just teary, but doused by wind flames. Her tears marred her face. They clattered on the floor. Echoed in my ears. I guessed Mildred had been like a mom to her, a real one, not like the average Achroite.


    And then I turned my attention back to the scene. A Harmonist lay on the floor, his blood splattered all over, as a repugnant painting. Samuel glanced at me. His eyes, watery justice flames. His fists, shrouded by a lighter hue of blood. An Impure. I had always thought the Harmonists deserved any beating they got, but seeing it firsthand, and that Samuel had done it. It just clouted my chest. And I could not justify him, no matter how much I wanted to.


    And before Samuel continued with the beating, I hollered, ¡°Enough! Amicus.¡±


    Almyra winced at Samuel¡¯s disfigured face. Like he had caught smallpox. Sometimes the pustules even oozed. He was one of the guinea pigs for Eugenex¡¯s first prototype. It did not end well.


    ¡°They killed Mildred,¡± Samuel bawled. ¡°They killed my wife.¡±


    An ice blade sleeted my nerves. And I did not know what to say. To me, this had all been because of the wails in my mind. But to him, this had been about the wife he lost. Ashley was my girlfriend, but Mildred was his wife. Wife. Had I been in his position, would I have also let vengeance char me?


    ¡°The bloody bastard said she had injected herself with a virus to infect Zielkkenhom at the Ceremony. And kill him.¡± Samuel said.


    And indeed, she was going to receive an award, the award I had gotten.


    Samuel stepped toward me. Glared. ¡°Earlier today, when you saved that wretched Fengel,¡± he said. ¡°Did you claw into a firewall? And released light particles?¡±


    I remained silent.


    ¡°Answer me, amicus!¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    I knew what was coming. He lunged at me and thrust me against the floor, his eyes, consumed by wrath.


    ¡°I plan on bloody killing you, bastard!¡± he declared.


    And I did not even have time to blink, when he kicked my ribs, heard a cracking sound, and then booted my raw Eugenex wound, as if he wanted to destroy a building with his kick. I hollered, and not thinking, I kicked his shin and knocked him. And it was a good thing I did not think. Because if I had thought, I would not have kicked him. Because I felt guilty. Because I felt I had killed his wife. Because I felt I had killed Mildred. ¡°You killing me won¡¯t bring her back,¡± I said. ¡°And you and I both know vengeance doesn¡¯t lead to lasting peace, amicus. Don¡¯t forget.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Those light particles weren¡¯t light, you bastard,¡± he said. ¡°They were virus particles. VirtuaNet¡¯s firewalls had contained the virus, but you released it when you dredged into it with your bloody hands. And Mildred was ¡­¡± Even his thunderous voice wavered when he said her name. ¡°Mildred was heading into VirtuaNet at that moment.¡±


    An ice blade sliced my veins. The light trace I saw was Mildred. And I killed her.


    ¡°She had shot herself with a concentration so that she¡¯d be infectious but not symptomatic,¡± Samuel said. ¡°And kill Zielkkenhom. Without a single bullet being fired, without a single Natural wasting his blood.


    ¡°But you set her body out of whack when your particles struck her. And killed her. When I woke up, she was dead. Right next to me, on our bed. Dead. Because of you. And now you¡¯re infected. And everyone else you¡¯ve come in contact with today. You messed everything up, bloody idiot.¡±


    I had no words. No mind. Nothing. I could not even process what was happening. I had killed Mildred. I had released the virus. I had set off a pandemic. Probably infected the soldier whose blood pressure I thought had dropped. The quarantine would soon begin. Everything would ¡­ I could not stand. Not even reason.


    ¡°I set off the smoke bomb and the tear gas to chase after the Harmonist who had knocked me and snatched my wife¡¯s corpse, they set up the actual blast,¡± Samuel said. ¡°I even recovered her body during the chaos but he snatched her back. He even tried to stop us with the bomb at St. Cruithnech¨¢n and the text messages¡ªhe even usurped her smartwatch number¡ªbut I caught him. And gave him what he deserved.¡±


    I was going to ask Samuel if he had killed him, but the Harmonist was moving. Thank God. Never thought I¡¯d have said that about a Harmonist. At least he¡¯d have a shot at repentance. The one Samuel needed.


    ¡°I know nothing I say will bring Mildred back,¡± I said. ¡°And I don¡¯t ask you to forgive me, because even though I did not intend it, my actions resulted in Mildred¡¯s return to the Lord, but please let go of that vengeance. It won¡¯t end well. It will only end up with you in the eternal scorching place. And Mildred would not have wanted that for you, despite your differences.¡±


    He knelt by me, still in tears, and did not say a word. He just helped me stand up. And we hugged. Almyra even leaped forward, as if she wanted to help him. And had forgotten about his blisters. I just hoped it was all for the best, and not a trap. At least, he got my mind off my family. My probably infected family. My probably¡­ dead family.


    ¡°So now you must replace her at the Ceremony, bridger,¡± the Harmonist muttered, still on the floor.


    ¡°So you want me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a right to speak, you bloody bastard,¡± Samuel said. Who then elbowed the Harmonist¡¯s thorax. But that did not stop him. He would die for his ideal. His sick, twisted ideal. ¡°Everyone will be there,¡± the Harmonist said. ¡°All branches of government, Fain, Zielkkenhom, the top generals, Bernhart, Vadnor, everyone. All you need to do is cough on your hand and then make sure to shake hands with everyone there. If it¡¯s a woman, hug and kiss her cheek.¡±


    ¡°So you want me to be typhoid Cael?¡± I said. ¡°To decimate who knows how many Achroites?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a Christian,¡± he said. ¡°Your God preaches mercy and forgiveness of sins. You can beg him forgiveness after you¡¯re finished. And you¡¯re of the Catholic variety, which is even better, because you can talk to a priest and be sure you¡¯re forgiven.¡±


    ¡°Confession does not work that way.¡±


    ¡°Think about it, bridger,¡± he said. ¡°You could provide freedom to the Naturals, the Impures, and bring down Zielkkenhom, the man who killed your girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t want to get rid of Eugenex,¡± I said. ¡°You just want to rule yourselves.¡±


    ¡°We want a fairer, more just world for the lesser peoples,¡± he said. ¡°For those too weak to defend themselves.¡±


    ¡°Spare me your lies.¡±


    ¡°We want everyone to be an Achroite.¡±


    ¡°So you want everyone to lose their salvation?¡± I said. ¡°Talk about an ideal.¡± I then glanced at Samuel. ¡°Do you agree with them?¡±


    He remained silent for five seconds, and then he muttered, ¡°You don¡¯t have a right to ask me that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want the Naturals to cheer for you again, bridger?¡± the Harmonist said. ¡°You could stand before them, not as their traitor, but as their liberator. And not a single bullet would have been needed. Not a single Natural would have been forced to shed his blood in war, in revolution. And not a¡ª¡±


    ¡°So you want me to stand in front of Christians,¡± I said. ¡°And tell them that I slaughtered hundreds? That I deliberately infected hundreds, if not more? To stand in front of God, and tell Him I killed hundreds in cold blood?¡±


    ¡°Freed them. We will make a better world for everyone,¡± he said, as if he actually believed his lies, his eyes as glinting flames. ¡°And if you don¡¯t want to help us¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll kill me?¡± I stepped right in front of him. ¡°I do not work with terrorists. Especially with those who are just like the government they so despise.¡± I turned to Samuel. ¡°Choose the right side, amicus,¡± I said. ¡°Before it is too late.¡±


    ¡°And what side is that supposed to be? Yours?¡± he said. ¡°Because both of you killed Mildred.¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s,¡± I said. ¡°The stream of mercy and the rapids of truth. Not vengeance and twisted words to suit an agenda.¡± I stared at him, as if I wanted to talk to his soul, so he¡¯d listen. ¡°Don¡¯t let these bastards fool you, because they¡¯re just like Zielkkenhom, only worse, because at least Zielkkenhom doesn¡¯t pretend to care about the Naturals.¡±


    I said that, but I did not believe it. At least not wholeheartedly. But then my family zapped my mind. And I sent Tim a text.


    Gcathaem ¨¦ade. Anoem. (Get out of the city. Now. In a mix of Irish and Latin that no smartwatch would be able to translate.)


    I regretted the text the second I sent it. Had I been selfish? But before the gravels could even barrel at me, Julius and his goons barged in. Must have tracked Almyra¡¯s new smartwatch, those Bernhart¡¯s representative had given us. Bastards. But I should have known better.


    ¡°You are all under arrest,¡± Julius declared. He punched the air, and with the telekinesis Eugenex granted, solidified the air particles in front of him and burst the bleeding Harmonist¡¯s head with a wind blast that could even surpass a bullet. ¡°As for the rest of you, fight and we execute you right here. Except you, Almie. You¡ª¡±


    ¡°Screw you, H?ft.¡±


    Should I tell Julius the truth? About the virus? Or should I infect him and go along with Mildred¡¯s plan? Should I become a Harmonist? For freedom?


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


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    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 19: Vengeance

    I knew what I had told the Harmonist, but I had seen what they were capable of, I had seen how vicious the Achroites could be. Samuel had lived it, even. Should I have just infected them? But then, the Harmonists would have risen to power, and they were just the same as the Achroites. Unless I finished them, before they could take over the government. But then that¡¯d mean the government would have been on my hands. And I could lead a district, but a whole country? Well, then again, I had seen politicians. And it did not take much to be one.


    I thought about my family. Were they safe? Tim had not answered. I had seen he read my text. But he did not answer. So they wouldn¡¯t track him, I supposed. They were safe. I prayed for their safety. They had to be. I hoped. The gravels burst in my mind¡ªthe Enhanceds getting infected, dying, because of me. And nothing I did could help me dissipate them. I just had to live through them, until they vanished on their own. Something that took a while to happen. A week most of the times. But sometimes, two weeks, and even a month at times. But I had read about saints who lived all their lives with the gravels. They had the fortitude to endure that. I did not.


    Julius looked imposing, though not as much as when he gave the speech. I guessed the video and modulators did make a difference.


    He sneered at me. ¡°Liked the speech I gave, guttersnipe? Told you I always win.¡±


    ¡°Depends,¡± I said. ¡°Liked how I saved Almyra more than once in a single day, and you did nothing for her in years?¡±


    Julius shut his mouth.


    Almyra chuckled. ¡°Listen, Lieutenant,¡± she stated. ¡°I am in want of written assurance that bridger Samuel Gieves shall be returned his district immediately. And exonerated of all charges against him. He did not set up the bomb. The Harmonists did.¡±


    Joy engulfed me. I smiled even. She really did care. I had not asked her to do that. And for a second there, I did not think she would have. But she was like Aisha. She could galvanize others into action. With Aisha¡¯s support, with Almyra¡¯s support, and that of a few more Fenglas, a new Cael¡¯s Law would become a reality. And we¡¯d have change through peace.


    ¡°And you admitting you made a mistake,¡± she said. ¡°On national news.¡±


    ¡°After everything we have been through, Almie¡ª¡±


    ¡°The clock ticks, Lieutenant,¡± Almyra said. ¡°And I am certain you shall offer me a grand gramercy for our information.¡±


    ¡°Why do I not just beat it out of the guttersnipe?¡±


    ¡°Kill me if you want,¡± I said. Standing as tall as I could. ¡°I won¡¯t tell you anything.¡±


    ¡°And if I kill your family, guttersnipe?¡±


    An ice blade did not sleet through my nerves. Because again, I had practiced for that statement. ¡°My sister¡¯s a thirteen year-old girl on a wheelchair, blind, and deaf,¡± I said. ¡°Do you really want to go there? And inspire a revolution that will definitely topple you and Zielkkenhom.¡± I sneered. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be the smartest person alive, Lt. Nabritt.¡± He was. Or at least his IQ said he was. I did not buy it.


    ¡°And I shall guarantee making a symbol out of her,¡± Almyra said. ¡°Shall bribe the best Tussenvolken propagandists to make her a martyr.¡±


    ¡°And should I kill only your parents?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be the guy who orphaned a blind, deaf, thirteen year-old girl in a wheelchair,¡± I said. ¡°That is not good PR.¡± I leaned toward him. Just in front of the cell bars. ¡°Face it, Julius, we have the upper hand, not you.¡±


    Julius stretched his arm and cannoned a windblast at me. I even struck the wall, raw Eugenex wound pounding my pain receptors, but I would not let him hear me bowl.


    ¡°We surpassed you, Lieutenant,¡± Almyra said. ¡°Acquiesce to our demands or face the consequences.¡±


    Julius¡¯ eyes seemed as glinting fires that would not kill us, because Almyra rested next to me. And would not have endured seeing her face marred by anguish at my demise. He just grunted and drew out a notepad. And signed. ¡°Here you go, now tell me.¡±


    ¡°Are you in thought of our stupidity?¡± she said. ¡°Do what we ordered you to do first and then return.¡±


    He did, as a puppy. Almyra sneered.


    ¡°I take it you and he did not end in the nicest of terms, huh?¡±


    ¡°I am not vindictive, Cael,¡± she said. ¡°But the Lieutenant deserves it. That and more. For what he has done. For what he did to me.¡± Her voice began to falter. And I did not press further. Did not want to pester her.


    But just as Julius was getting ready to deliver his address, someone hurled a grenade at the soldiers guarding the apartment we were in. And injected Julius with what must have been a paralyzer, a synthesized form of snake poison that paralyzed you for one to five minutes, depending on the concentration, as he did not move. The Naturals¡¯ response to the Eugenex-derived telekinetic immobilization all Enhanceds shared, except for the Impures. So we stood a chance.


    We all sprinted downstairs, past Julius statue body, and though I thought Almyra would glint hope, her eyes blazed wrath instead. Because she had saved Julius. If she had not asked him to deliver the address, then he¡¯d have been with the other guards. But she only did it to save the Naturals. So then, had the Naturals saved Julius? Had I just saved my enemy?


    I guessed I had, but that did not sever my soul. Because I did not expect her to fight with me, we had only known each other for seven hours, and it would have coiled my heart if something had happened to her because of me. But I did expect Samuel to help me. I thought he would have stayed and fought alongside me, but he did not. He did not attack me, but he did not attack the assailant either. He just stood still for three seconds, and then darted off into Beorg?g . But I couldn¡¯t blame him. His wife had just died. I just prayed he did not let vengeance overwhelm him.


    But then I heard something click. So I sidestepped. A bullet grazed my arm. The assailant who had tossed the bomb.


    ¡°Ready to die, bridger?¡±


    I immediately recognized him. ¡°Run fast now, Almyra,¡± I shot. ¡°Escape.¡±


    The remaining Harmonist Limb who had not been at the rally. Probably plotting how to kill Aisha and me. Thank God he didn¡¯t care about Almyra and let her escape. She hesitated for a second, but I signaled her to sprint away. Even let her keep my zielkithe pocketknife for protection.


    Nathaniel Norcross.


    A head taller than me and in his early twenties, though the eternal ire that encircled his blue eyes made him seem much older than he was. At first glance you¡¯d think him a thug. A Mohawk dyed cobalt jutted from his head. Tattoos shrouded his body, as if they were his second skin. European dragons in vermillion and moss. A saber at his side, ripped jeans and a tucked-out short sleeveless shirt with a leather jacket on it made his unnatural uniform, so you¡¯d always distinguish him in a crowd, even more easily than Terrance and Marina. Guessed that was the point. That his victims always knew who killed them. That Aisha and I knew who¡¯d be our murderer.


    Worst part, though, wasn¡¯t so much his wrath, but that he used to treat Naturals with dignity. He used to believe in the same ideals as Aisha. Until his family lost their wealth. Old money. Thick Boston Brahmin accent, even though he tried to hide it at times. Came here with the Mayflower. Lost everything to Aisha¡¯s family¡¯s Lexington Bank and Trust. Which ripped my soul, because Aisha was the sweetest girl, even though she was an Achroite. But the Trust¡¯s Board of Directors and her parents said business was business. To be the best, you had to eliminate the competition.


    And they did.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    But Nathaniel¡¯s family remained strong, until the day that zapped the hope right out of his face, their faces¡ªthe day they could no longer afford Achroite Eugenex, and ceased to be Achroites. They sold their mansions, jets, and yachts just to pretend they still had money. But they were buying Fengel Eugenex. Low grade. Could no longer afford waterfront Back Bay in Boston. And moved to Fenland. To an Esne neighborhood.


    And they scraped by. Until they could not even afford Esne Eugenex. And had to go Impure. The subsidized one. And move to a Zielkkenhomville in Pearfan?g. To the nicer Impure area¡ªthey did not win the lottery of the bridger district they had applied to¡ªbut still, the social shame they must have had.


    But those living there treated them well, pretended they did not know what had happened to them. Acted as if they had lived there all their lives. But in Nathaniel¡¯s mind, he was not one of them. He was an Achroite. And he would halt at nothing to recover that. For him. For his family.


    Sometimes I felt sorry for him. He must have really believed in the Harmonists¡¯ ideals, of granting everyone what was once his, but when I remembered what he did at the water plant, what happened to my brother because of him, my rage grew, and any sc¨ªollan of compassion I had for him vanished, as a grain against the scorching ash of the Rim. But then God jolted me. For I knew He wanted compassion for everyone.


    Though not for sin.


    Nathaniel fired at me but I dodged his bullets and charged at him. Wrenched the gun from his grasp. And his eyes glinted anger. Not just regular anger, though. But almost to the point of obsession. Not as if I had done something against him, but against his family. But I had not. Guessed I was just guilty by association with Aisha. I went through my mind and I had not done a thing against them. Only against the Harmonists.


    I held the gun in my hand, and for a second there I thought of shooting him, because he and Belisario had concocted the water plant bomb that snatched my brother¡¯s eternal life, but my guardian angel would have blasted my soul with a photon even more powerful than the gravels. And the gravels would have lapidated me forever.


    I did not kill him. Just emptied the barrel. ¡°Why do you want to kill me? Is it just because I oppose the Harmonists? Or because of Aisha?¡±


    Nathaniel did not answer. And the wrath his eyes glinted vanished. Somewhat. And he just sneered. And then I saw why. He drew out the saber at his side and thrust forward against my chest, but I blocked it and clouted his thorax. But I could not stop his heart. Nathaniel did not even flinch. He just chuckled and drew out a small dagger from his pocket and aimed at my throat. Insane. Him. Chuckling at the thought of killing someone. Though a burst of sadness blasted me. That he thought like that. But I would not let him kill me. I could not dodge his dagger. And had to block it with my arm.


    Big mistake.


    I did not holler, I did not cry as he stabbed my arm and dragged the dagger to my wrist. Not because I did not want to, but because the tears would have clouded my vision. The scream would have wasted attoseconds I needed to plan my next move. I would not lose.


    I kneed his stomach and instead of trying to wrestle the dagger from his hand, I just forced his thumb backwards as if I wanted to sever it from his hand. I did not succeed. But I did hear a crackling sound. Nathaniel flinched, yelped even, and dropped the dagger. And I spared my wrist. Saved my life. Which the gravels pummeled. But I just dispelled them. I had not gone too far. I had not killed him. He had attacked me. I had the right to defend myself.


    I did. But if he kept attacking me, would I have¡ª


    I caught sight of him about to snatch his dagger back, but I seized it first. Shock. Anger shrouded his face. That I had been faster than him. But he still had his saber. He could not fool me. Nathaniel sneered and aimed his saber at my throat but I dodged it and aimed for his stomach, but his saber blocked the dagger.


    ¡°You are stronger than I thought, bridger,¡± he said. ¡°But I will finish you anyway.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll just take me to Heaven faster,¡± I said. ¡°So thanks for your help, Brahmin.¡± I chuckled.


    He did not. And for a second there, he stood still. Put his saber down. I did not think he had changed, but had my taunt worked?


    ¡°Should you believe you shall find yourself in eternal rest,¡± Nathaniel said. ¡°There is nothing I can do for your delusions. I shall kill you, though it shall sadden me not being able to see your face once you wake up in fire and brimstone. Granted who your allies are.¡±


    ¡°So it is about Aisha,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s a much better person than you shall ever be, Nathaniel, regardless of what you think.¡±


    ¡°Justice shall be served,¡± he said. ¡°Because those who associate with criminals and oppressors of the poor and weak cannot be just. The system is not just. The system must be obliterated, bridger, not reformed.¡±


    Nathaniel charged at me, saber first, but I stabbed his hand. He flinched. Dropped his saber. Tried to kick me but he stumbled and crashed into the floor. His eyes turned to seas that not even all the suns could evaporate, but his fake tears would not fool me.


    I snatched his saber and aimed for his chest. ¡°Hand yourself to the authorities now or I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°I surrender, bridger,¡± he muttered, trying to keep his voice from sounding too broken. ¡°You win.¡±


    But before I could even react, an explosion resonated in the area. Coming from where the Knights of Malta¡¯s headquarters stood. And I looked. An instant. A reflex. A reflex that would cost me my life.


    Nathaniel uppercut my throat. I stumbled. And in four seconds, I was gone. He elbowed my chest, fisted my nose, clutched the back of my neck and hauled me toward him. I could not do a thing. He kneed my ribcage and hurled me into the street. Snatched the saber and dagger.


    I had not been strong enough. And I would pay the price. But the thought of killing him when I had a chance, I had never killed someone before. Ice spikes froze my nerves when I thought of killing a person. Even if it had been a Harmonist Limb, I guessed. I always thought that if I were in front of a Limb, I would have been able to kill him, but I could not. Was that cowardice and weakness? Or was it the right thing to do? I thought it had been the right thing, but now I wasn¡¯t so sure. I guessed it was pointless to mull about that right before I died. But it still coiled my nerves. That I would have to kill someone at some point, if I kept down this path, if I survived. I prayed it did not come to that, though. But the only way to not kill someone was dying. Or a miracle.


    Nathaniel aimed his saber at my chest. ¡°Ready to¡ª¡±


    Nathaniel dodged some bullets at his chest, but one struck his arm. And he plummeted. But before I could even figure out what had happened, some Harmonists swarmed the street and saved Nathaniel. And I thought they¡¯d kill me, but they did not. Not because they did not try, but because the Knights of Malta trailed them. Fired at them.


    They had saved me back in Wexford. And they had saved me again. That¡¯s why I trusted them. That¡¯s why I truly believed in what the Knights did. I had to become stronger, though. So I would not lose to Nathaniel. To the Harmonists.


    ¡°Are you alright, Cael?¡± a young woman about my age asked me. A Knight I guessed, because she seemed familiar and was with the group that fired at Nathaniel. With sturdy arms, though not too heavily striated. Marguerite flowers veiled her uniform, and wreathed her long apricot hair with streaks of sunglow that streamed up to her mid back. Her soft face made her seem too gentle for a warrior, but she was strong, as Aisha. Her gentle verdigris eyes never left my sight, despite the wounds that scarred her body. Despite the pain that must have drowned her veins. Scorches on her arms. So that even air must have speared her. Blood on her face. So that even her tears would not have washed her. But she did not cry. And her eyes were not what I expected. They did not glint wrath, or sadness, but hope and kindness, as if I were her brother, and she wanted to take care of me. As if she wanted to treat every single victim.


    She helped me stand up, and wiped off some of my arm¡¯s blood with a cloth she drew from her pocket. Scrubbed more likely, as if she washed clothes against rocks in a river, but I would not flinch in front of her, not when she had not even yelped after all we had been through. But she must have felt something, for after fifteen seconds she scrubbed no longer. And she just wafted, as a Celtic zephyr in Wexford¡¯s shore.


    The shore I would return to someday, once everything was over, once the time was right. But the more time passed, the worse it became.


    She finished cleaning my wounds, smiled at me, and said, ¡°I thought scarred men were supposed to be tough.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s just that I have mental toughness. Those burly guys you think are strong wouldn¡¯t endure an attosecond in the Bridge.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Lastenia, Lastenia Horowitz.¡± She stepped away from me. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing more you need, then I¡¯m off to chase Nathaniel. I will not stand idle after he snatched our equipment.¡±


    And with that, she took off.


    ¡°She¡¯s always like that,¡± a soldier told me in sign language. ¡°One of our best. Tragic what happened to her.¡± He paused for half a second. ¡°Her parents died during the Warsaw Assault and she had to come here to the USN completely alone at ten to practice her faith in peace.¡±


    It hit me the second I saw him. Dyse Thomas. A trace of black hair covered his almost bald head, a head shorter than me, and mute. Naturals could not afford the operation to fix vocal chords. And even if we could, no doctor would perform it. Doctors were all Enhanceds.


    Dyse was the Natural from that fight that led Aisha and I to cross paths. Some Enhanceds were beating him. I tried to stop them, but they immobilized me, and thought I was a goner. But Aisha arrived and air blasted the bastard bullies preying on the weak into oblivion. Because she needed my services.


    ¡°I survived the head wound from back then, Cael. Let¡¯s go to the headquarters, before Lt. Nabritt¡¯s paralyzer wears off.¡± Dyse said. ¡°But Nathaniel was all a ploy, so you wouldn¡¯t interfere in the Harmonist assault on our Wessex headquarters.¡±


    Those must have been the blasts.


    Dyse paused for a second, as if he could not believe the words he¡¯d say next. Or as if, he felt powerless to do something. ¡°And their upcoming attack on the Ceremony.¡±


    The Ceremony that would take place in my district.


    The Ceremony that would take place where my family was.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 20: Remains

    Just twenty minutes ago, the Knights¡¯ command center served as a food pantry for the hungry Naturals of the Zielkkenhomvilles that encroached the Palmas district. A former warehouse the Knights themselves had adapted to suit their purpose, to help others, regardless of anything that stood in Palmas not because the Knights wanted to be in a bridger district, but for protection. Was illegal for soldiers to just barge into a bridger district without due cause.


    Of course what due cause meant was left open to interpretation, one of the compromises the drafting party of the Non-Enhanced Defense Act had to agree to, but it was better than nothing. And people liked the Knights, so not even Julius would have dared to blast off their command center. Heck, the Knights even served Impures and Esneas who had fallen on hard times. Unable to pay their Eugenex loans. Even had beds until the fallen Esneas could adapt to their new reality in the Zielkkenhomvilles. And I was certain that if an Achroite had arrived, they would have served him anyway. Of course, it was almost impossible that happened, but it was the thought that counted.


    But now, charred remnants stood as a testament of what happened when you crossed the government and terrorists. The Harmonists had blasted it. Exploded it. Bastards. Bloody battle. Like a massive fire had occurred. Corpses still on the floor. Stench of gunpowder and smoke. The wails and cries of Wexford again. It took the Holy Spirit¡¯s water to douse the flames of wrath that pulsed through my veins. People who looked more dead than alive. Terrorists, they were. The Harmonists. Nothing but filthy terrorists who wanted everyone to go to the scorching place, who wanted everyone to lose their souls, just like Zielkkenhom, but worse.


    That kind of thinking would have branded you a traitor in some circles, but not even Zielkkenhom had blasted off a command center of the Knights. Only the Harmonists had attacked people who helped the poor, people who wanted peace. At least here in the USN. But then again, Zielkkenhom did promote Eugenex. And I guessed technically what the Harmonists did to the Knights paled in comparison to what Zielkkenhom did to the souls of the world when he introduced Eugenex, when he promoted Eugenex as the best thing ever created.


    But you couldn¡¯t see what Zielkkenhom had done, because you couldn¡¯t see people¡¯s souls, but you could see what the Harmonists had done. The devastation. And for what? To steal the Knights¡¯ weapons? Technology? Not worth it. But in their twisted minds, anything was worth it to topple Zielkkenhom, to become rulers themselves.


    An ice blade of fire sliced my veins. Because I could not do a thing. I thought on darting off to stop whatever the Harmonists had in mind with the weapons they stole, but I was infected. I thought on sprinting to my district, to save everyone, but I was infected. Most likely infected. And would have infected my family if I raced there. And everyone else. I called Tim but he did not answer. I called my parents. And they did not answer either. And the Ceremony was taking place in ten minutes.


    But what were the Harmonists thinking of? A simple blast wouldn¡¯t have killed the Achroites, much less Zielkkenhom. Only the Naturals and maybe the Impures would have died. Unless they were planning on killing them. That¡¯s whom they ended up killing in the blast. Naturals. All the Knights were Naturals. Only thing I could think of was that they were going to get close enough to explode a grenade right next to Zielkkenhom and Fain, but they¡¯d need an insider for that.


    Was that it? An Achroite working for the Harmonists. ¡°Dyse, do you have anyone in the Ceremony?¡±


    ¡°Some operatives,¡± he said. ¡°But they haven¡¯t seen anyone suspicious. All of Zielkkenhom¡¯s security forces are legit.¡±


    ¡°Then your intel¡¯s wrong.¡± I called Tim again. Texted him. No response. ¡°There has to be an infiltrated Achroite. Working for the Harmonists.¡± I called my parents again. Silence answered me.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    If I had run, I could have alerted my family. Or infected them. I would not let Nathaniel annihilate whomever had survived his terrorist attack, even if I risked my life. I would not let the Harmonists slaughter the innocent in the Ceremony. Because even if I died, at least there''d had been one person less to spread the virus. But I would not die. Not to Aisha''s would be murderer. Not to terrorists. Not to the Harmonists.


    But recklessness would not join me. ¡°Give me a biomask.¡±


    Dyse leaned toward me. Must have thought I was insane. Or worse. A sinner. Sinful. Because biomasks could not completely isolate saliva particles; nothing could. Because I would risk infecting everyone just to save my family. To save those at the Ceremony.


    They would all live. They would all survive. I would not kill them. Regardless of my mind telling me I would infect them.


    Dyse snatched a biomask that had survived the flames, just before I could. Still on the ground. Clutched by the hands of a charred corpse. More like a painting than a human. Or at least, that¡¯s what I told myself, though I knew how callous it felt, though gravels pummeled my chest. To desensitize myself. So tears of wrath and grief of rage would not cloud my vision. My judgment.


    I thought ire would have pulsed through my veins. That a stupid mask had survived. And so many people had not. But I felt relieved. That I would save those at the Ceremony. That the Knights whose souls the Harmonists¡¯ bombs blasted to Heaven had saved everyone in death, as if they knew someone would need the biomask, because they had a higher purpose, a higher calling, a call I aspired to have. A call I feared I¡¯d have.


    Would my soul be strong enough? To give my life for someone else?


    Dyse placed the biomask between his hands, about to tear it, as if it were nothing but paper, though I did not think him strong enough to tear the biomask¡¯s silicone nanofilaments. But looks deceived. Something I knew firsthand. He must have thought it wasn¡¯t worth it risking a pandemic to stop a possible attack. To save Zielkkenhom and his sycophants.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you¡ª¡±


    I snatched the biomask from Dyse¡¯s grasp, and thrust him back, as if it meant saving someone¡¯s life. And I guessed it did. Though guilt iced me when I saw that I had fisted a Knight. And it did not leave my veins. But I clenched my fists and glared at Dyse, as if I felt nothing. ¡°I don¡¯t need your permission.¡±


    I thought terror would nest in Dyse¡¯s eyes, or that he¡¯d at least tremble, as my bridging scars could not let me look soft, but they did not. He did not. Disappointment made its home.


    That axed me more. Because the mosquitoes bit me again. Was I forsaking my God? Was I forsaking our Lord?


    Dyse raised his chin. ¡°Suit yourself, Cael.¡± He turned, and began to march away. ¡°But with alleged friends like you, it¡¯s no wonder the Harmonists feel emboldened to bomb us.¡± He stopped. ¡°Just think about where your loyalties lie, Cael.¡±


    ¡°My loyalties lie with God,¡± I said. ¡°As should yours.¡±


    No answer. I thought he¡¯d say something, think something, but he didn¡¯t. He just kept walking. Though I prayed he did not let Zielkkenhom fester in his mind. But an ice grave entombed my mind. I had thought Dyse was drifting away, but what if I was the one in need? Was I the one drifting away? Because Zielkkenhom¡¯s r¨ªceabl?d already swamped at my brain? Because I could not obliterate seven years of Rebirth School indoctrination?


    For a second, I thought of staying, as I held the biomask near my face, still, frozen, though I did not tremble. I thought I would have. I guessed because it was not fear what petrified me. I guessed because it was not terror what immobilized me. But guilt. Concern. That I had taken the wrong road. That the road not taken would forever claw at me.


    Was that the road I wanted to walk? Was it the road God wanted me to march on? Once I put on the biomask. Once I could not return.


    I did not take a deep breath. I did not say any words. I did not do a thing that would let even more hesitation ooze from the bemired gravels that pounded me, as fists against my brain. I just thought Lord, let this be Your will and I put on the biomask. Suffocating thing. Imprisoned your face. Entangled itself against your temples. To the point it felt kind of constricting. But it was a spring lough compared to the Bridge.


    But as soon as I stepped ahead, my smartwatch rang.


    Tim.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 21: Infected

    I activated the hologram feed.


    ¡°Where have you been, Teacher Cael?¡± Tim said. Leered at me, as if only wrath swelled his brain, but he could not hide his concern. And the sight of relief when he saw me alive, though only lasted a second. ¡°I have importan¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where are you?¡± I said. ¡°Are you still in the city?¡± Strong, but hoping he¡¯d say he wasn¡¯t. They weren¡¯t. That they were safe. That by a miracle of God, he had escaped in time.


    Tim winced. ¡°Yes, at the Cerem ¡­ what¡¯s with the biomask, teacher?¡± he said. ¡°Is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is Ellie with you? Ma and pa? Didn¡¯t you see my text?¡± Adrenaline must have shot through my veins. That shock did not petrify me. That dread did not drown me. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to call you and ma and pa like a million times. Why haven¡¯t you answered? What was so important that you had to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stopping a damn Harmonist terrorist attack, teacher,¡± he growled, but he still shifted his smartwatch to live feed mode, so I could see everything at the Ceremony. All the Achroites. Zielkkenhom. Fain. And a group of Esne guards and elite Body Fenglas forces subdued a man right in the center of my district.


    He did not look sorry. Not even as they shattered his bones. By hand. ¡°This is for freedom.¡± They broke his legs. ¡°Because we will stand in the right side of history.¡± They broke his arms.


    ¡°Ic command ee, ¨¢gna mildheartness, terrorist.¡±


    I command you, claim mercy. That¡¯s what the Esne guard said. In somewhat broken Anglo Saxon. R¨ªces¨¢genspr?c. The National Tongue. Everyone sang you praises if you could speak correctly. Though even the Achroites spoke English. Most of the time. Except when they wanted to bootlick Zielkkenhom with their language prowess. But Zielkkenhom did not seem to care at all about such foolish endeavors. At least he didn¡¯t strike me as one to fall for bootlickers. Had to grant him that. So I never understood why he drilled R¨ªces¨¢genspr?c into our brains at the Rebirth School.


    But I did get more Achroites to hire me because of it. And Esneas to hire me as a tutor. Which I guessed didn¡¯t help with the whole looking like a traitor thing, but it meant I had the police on my side, on my family¡¯s side. And on the Naturals¡¯ one. Even if they thought me a traitor for it. Some of them. Though I feared the number would increase after the Ceremony. After the award. After the prize Zielkkenhom would grant me.


    The Esne made sure the Fengel next to him listened. So he¡¯d recommend him for the Eugenex Lottery. But the Fengel just sneered at his ignorance and snatched the terrorist¡¯s neck. The Esne hunched. Must have though he said it right. Must have thought he said the right words, the right thing. But to those above him, he¡¯d never be nothing more than the class forced to share streets with the wretched refuse of society, the Naturals and Impures, because most of the time, the Esneas could not police the upper quarters, much less the Tower of Rebirth.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I forced away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm me. Though not because I did not want to feel sad for the Esne, I was not callous, I hoped, but because I could not let feelings cloud my judgment. Not when I needed my brain focused on running. Sprinting to my family. Because I needed serenity to shroud me.


    When I told my family about the virus.


    ¡°What light is to the eyes, what air is to the lungs, what love is to the heart, liberty is to the soul of man!¡± the terrorist screamed, so the entire nation would hear.


    They broke his chest.


    ¡°This is for the Knights!¡±


    The Fengel crushed his neck. Tossed the corpse aside. No one seemed concerned in the slightest. As if everyone had seen someone die such a gruesome death in front of them. Naturals. Enhanceds. Eveyone.


    What a sad fate. For us all. Desensitization.


    But then it clouted me. The silence that exploded in the Ceremony. That he belonged to the Knights. Not to the Harmonists. But to the Knights. The Knights of Malta. He had to be lying. To tarnish their reputation. As Eudora did in Ireland. He had to. They had to be ¡­ they wouldn¡¯t ¡­ the Knights would not ¡­ I felt how my heart raced, sprinted, as if it would rip my chest. Breath escaped my lungs. My throat. ¡°This is a lie. This is a lie! This is a lie!¡± I yelled, hoping someone would listen. Hoping someone would correct me. Hoping someone had heard me. And said, ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s a lie. We wouldn¡¯t do that. We believe in the sanctity of life. We don¡¯t take lives unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary. Unless it¡¯s the last option. The last resort. Until all options have been exhausted.¡± But no one spoke. No one said a thing. I was in the desert. I was the sole voice in the desert. And no one had come to join me. Not even Dyse.


    But it wasn¡¯t them. The Knights must have all left. Dyse as well. That¡¯s why no one heard me. That¡¯s why no one answered me. Right? I sprinted through the charred remains. My heart about to burst. The sweat stinging my eyes. Everything turning into a blurred haze. And I was about to throw up.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lie, right Teacher?¡±  Tim said. Could not hide the trepidation in his voice. ¡°He¡¯s lying. He has to be.¡±


    ¡°I am certain of that statement¡¯s falseness, Tim.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Bernhart?¡± he said.


    There she was. Almyra. At the Ceremony. As if the whole incident with Samuel and the Harmonists hadn¡¯t occurred. But before I could even utter a sound, the Body Fengel that had killed the alleged Knight shot at Tim¡¯s smartwatch. Must have noticed its live feed activated. It was illegal to record without permission.


    And I could not see anything else.


    But it clouted me.


    Almyra was smart. She knew about the virus. She knew I was probably infected. She must have known she was probably infected as well. And yet, she decided to head to the Ceremony anyway.


    My legs weakened. I crashed. Sat on the debris. Placed my hands against the biomask.


    Almyra was a Harmonist.


    And my family would suffer the ultimate consequence for it.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 22: Freedoms Voice

    I could not think. I could not reason. The girl I ¡­ the Achroite I had set my hopes on. The Achroite I thought would change things. The Achroite I thought was different from the others. The girl I ¡­ had fooled me. Played me. Read me like an open book. And I had fallen. I guessed because I wanted to. I guessed because I wanted to think she was like Aisha. That she really cared about Naturals and Enhanceds. That she really wanted Naturals and Enhanceds working together, as Aisha and I clamored that day, the day we passed the Non-Enhanced Defense Act. But I suppose I was wrong. I guessed my brother was right, though I loathed admitting it.


    The heart clouded proper judgment. Hope and wishful thinking clouded rational behavior. And left you at risk of betrayal, of someone reading your body language, your cues, of someone knowing you more than you know yourself.


    And that had happened with Almyra. But I would not wallow in my mistake. I stood. I would not falter. I would not cower. Because if the Harmonists wanted to infect everyone, if the Harmonists wanted to start a mass pandemic, if the Harmonists wanted to kill my family, force it into the crossfire between the civil war they wanted to wage against Zielkkenhom, then they would have to kill me first.


    I would save my family. I would save them all.


    I sprinted toward the Ceremony. Laser focus. Thinking they were alive. Thinking they were safe. Praying for their wellbeing. Past the streets that led to my district, past the Esne guards whom I ordered to look the other way in exchange for a recommendation to the Eugenex lottery. Grief axed me. That they cared about such transient things. Rotting treasures of the world. But I did not stop. The buildings past me, a blur. The usual stench of raw Eugenex vanished from my mind. As if nothing existed. As if only my family lived. My family. And my district.


    My legs still raced, as if I were in the Bridge. Though I thought the ice spikes that sliced my soul would have turned my body a statue. Because I did not care in the slightest. That I had told the Esne guards to shirk their responsibilities, their duties, for me. And that I thought nothing of it. Felt nothing of it.


    And then it clouted me. I had done that several times before. And thought nothing of it. Until now. Wretched gravels. Because you never knew when they¡¯d strike. Because you never knew when they¡¯d lapidate you.


    But it was for my family. Now. Before. It had always been to save others, the Naturals, those too weak to defend themselves. The innocent. Natural. Or Enhanced. It was not for murder. It was not to justify a civil war.


    I prayed for my family. And though not even the adrenaline numbed me to the pain my legs pulsated, I sprinted ahead. The purified ¨¦astanacsa that reeked of putrid raw Eugenex, a mere stream past me. I still stood some wards away. But soon I¡¯d save them all.


    I ran.


    Until I caught sight of a mammoth verdant translucent sphere the size of a nuclear explosion that blasted off right into the Ceremony, right into my district. And razed it. Did not even leave a smoke plume. Annihilated it from the face of the Earth. Until nothing but a handful of debris remained. Because it seemed as if everything had melted off. As if my district had never existed. As if nothing stood where my home once was.


    Again.


    The buildings. The greenhouses and trees. The people. Tears clouded my sight. Because not even my desensitization techniques could help me cope. Because everyone I knew ¡­ ma and pa, Ellie, Tim, Almyra, even if she was a Harmonist, I ¡­


    I fell to my knees. The people. Not even their corpses must have remained. The stench that pervaded the area. Dozens of neighborhoods away. Raw Eugenex. The most caustic substance known to humanity. Weaponized.


    A raw Eugenex cannon. A raw Eugenex blast.


    And my family, my district, had been the guinea pigs.


    I guessed Zielkkenhom had died in the blast as well, and Fain, but it was not worth it. I did not care what lies the Harmonists espoused to justify their massacre. How many innocents must had they annihilated in my district? Naturals. Impures. Esneas. I had the answer.


    Seventy-eight thousand one hundred twenty two souls. Gone. In one blink. In one second.


    Not counting all the Achroites and Fenglas who must have gone to the Ceremony. And yet, the Harmonists thought that justice. The Harmonists thought that fair. Justified. Because it was for a noble goal. Or at least that¡¯s what they told themselves. And I feared they had begun to believe their own lies.


    Because nothing noble arose from a megalomaniac¡¯s covetousness of power and control.


    I had seen Terrance. I did not think him capable of such devastation. Of such disregard for human life. For the lives of the people he clamored he protected. For the lives of the people he was meant to save.


    I guessed because he didn¡¯t want to save them. He didn¡¯t want to protect them. He¡¯d have slaughtered them all if it meant he¡¯d rule. And how could people fall for such blatant demagoguery?


    And then my smartwatch activated. The breaking news feed.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Except that it wasn¡¯t the usual newscasters. But a white screen. And a disembodied voice speaking. Altered. So it sounded deeper and with more gravitas, similar to the enhancements Julius used. And you couldn¡¯t tell who was speaking. But it had to be Terrance. But how could he hack into the USN¡¯s national channel? The USN boasted a pretty safe network system.


    And then it clouted me.


    Insider help. Almyra. And yet, Terrance killed her. Used her and discarded her. As he did with everyone at that Ceremony. As he¡¯d do with the other Harmonists, even the Limbs. How could they follow him?


    ¡°Fellow citizens of the United States of the North, oppressed masses of our land,¡± a disembodied voice said. Terrance said. Rather, Freedom¡¯s Voice said. His alter ego. They said he did not exist. As the nation had only heard his voice. But I was certain it was Terrance. It had to be. ¡°Today, 14 Reifare Year 17, a raw Eugenex blast has decimated the Zielkkenhom Awards Ceremony about to take place in the Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception.


    ¡°I am certain that Chairman Daan Zielkkenhom, President Janor Fain, the vice president, the speaker of the House, and several key figures of the oppression have perished in the blast, along with scores of martyrs who sacrificed their lives for a higher purpose, a higher goal.¡±


    Bastard. If I could punch him, I¡¯d ¡­


    ¡°So while my heart grieves for the victims who perished in the blast, joy deluges my soul, because the leaders that oppressed us are no more, because the structures that pervade entrenched discrimination and hate against those who do not conform to Zielkkenhom¡¯s vision for the world, against those who will for truth are no more. As what is a moment of pain, for a lifetime of happiness? Of freedom? Of liberty?¡±


    Seventy-eight thousand one hundred twenty two souls. His moment of pain. Nothing could calm the wrath that drowned me. And I feared it was because I did not want it to waver.


    ¡°So to those still in adherence to the Anci¨¦n Regime, to those still in lament over Zielkkenhom¡¯s demise, I say: Surrender now, that we may avert a civil war. Because, if you fail to surrender by tomorrow, if you fail to eliminate the oppression that seeps through this great nation¡¯s veins, as stricken blood cells that serve no purpose, I shall not hesitate, I shall not waver in my commitment to liberty, to freedom.


    ¡°So, in you I lay the anvil of peace, and the furnace of war. You, Achroites, Fenglas, Tussenvolken, decide which weapon you shall wield. For if you make the wrong decision, may the crimson sickle of liberty lay wrath upon you, our oppressors. May the swift lightning of justice char the injustice you subject us to. May the exploding arrows of righteousness cleanse your hearts and purify your wickedness, you who keep us enslaved. Those who force us, the lower classes, Naturals, Impures, Esneas, the weak, poor, huddled, and oppressed masses who pillar this nation to remain nothing more than vermin in your eyes.


    ¡°So it is time, my people, that we crystallize our hope, that we take for ourselves the spoils we deserve. For if we fail to act now, an opportunity like this will never present itself before us. So guided by my hand, guided by your dreams, Naturals, Impures, Esneas, I will lead you to liberty. I shall become the hammer of liberation that obliterates the Tower of Rebirth, the symbol of mistaken r¨ªceabl?d.


    ¡°Because in true r¨ªceabl?d, everyone is equal, everyone is the same. Everyone the same in VirtuaNet. Everyone an Achroite. Everyone a true citizen of the United States of the North. So let us storm the Tower of the Anci¨¦n Regime and give birth to a new age of freedom, liberty, and justice for all. Free from the mildheartness of Zielkkenhom toward traitors from foreign shores and saps who believe in fairy tales. So let us rejoice in the upcoming purity our nation shall enjoy once we cleanse our lands from them. Let us sing from the rooftops, from the iced islands of the north, the jungles of the south, the beaches of the east, and the mountains of the west. Let our lungs burst with the Drythl¨¦op.


    ¡°All onward the glorious land. All onward the land whence our ancestors hailed; all onward the glorious land, whence our present spreads; all onward the glorious land, whence our future shall emerge. All onward the new United States of the North, rid of Zielkkenhom and his sycophants. Rid of injustice. Rid of oppression. Rid of poverty and discrimination.


    ¡°All onward the United Democratic Republic of America. Enlightened. Equal. For all. So I bid you farewell for now, my fellow friends, while the once powerful squirm without their dear leader, their Chairman, their Fr¨¦a. Soon, we shall all rejoice in the blessings of freedom and prosperity for all.


    ¡°But for now, remember, I am fighting for us. For this nation. As the Acting President of our recently founded UDRA, as the leader of the Society of Harmonious Friends United in Constitutional Righteousness, and the Knights of Malta.¡±


    Terrance was lying. They couldn¡¯t claim a new nation. They couldn¡¯t claim a new country. That bastard would not control our country. That liar would not rule. I would not let him massacre all those who opposed the Harmonists. Turn everyone into an Enhanced. He could not lead the Knights. He could not be their leader. Terrance wasn¡¯t even a Christian. They could not have fallen for his lies. Not the Knights. Not them. Not those who saved my life. Not those who became martyrs in Europe during Eudora¡¯s war. Not them. Not them. NOT THEM!


    But before I could even take a step ahead, someone shot something at me. Crimson liquid dripped. The paralyzer. Julius.


    He snatched my neck and kneed my nose. Felt how the blood oozed.


    ¡°Listen to me, guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°I shall interrogate you, and you shall inform me of why were the Knights in hold of dozens of biomasks. Charred, granted. But nonetheless, it is suspicious that they were in preparation for an upcoming pandemic, and a terrorist attack at the heart of our nation. And that you are in wear of a biomask as well. As well as the reason for your absence at the Ceremony, as if you knew something would happen, now that it is known that the Harmonists and the Knights of Malta are, in fact, the same organization. I wager your knowledge of the recent blast.¡±


    Julius kneed my stomach and thrust me against the street. Pressed his foot against my chest. ¡°I swear that if either the Fr¨¦a or Almie suffered so much as a scratch, you shall lament the day you survived the old hag¡¯s invasion of that putrid island of yours.¡±


    First time I had seen an Achroite flash human wrath. Actual ire. But it was all moot now. My family gone. And if I didn¡¯t answer how Julius wanted, I would soon join my family in the Afterlife.


    I prayed for my soul.


    Because I would not be in this Earth for long.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 23: Void

    Julius bludgeoned me until I broke, and told him about how I had released the virus, about how I thought the Knights were still innocent, despite the biomasks, but I was already broken. Knowing everyone I cared about had perished in one blast, had broken me more than I thought it would. The thought had crossed me, that someday they¡¯d die, but I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be so soon. I never thought I¡¯d have to suffer Ellie and Tim¡¯s death. Their deaths shattered my soul in shards of sadness that not even prayers could console.


    Felt weak, pathetic. That I called myself a Christian and wasn¡¯t strong enough to cope. Didn¡¯t even have the will to pray anymore. I felt like a hypocrite. But I guessed I let Julius beat me because I wanted to pretend I was still strong. I wanted to pretend I wouldn¡¯t just hand out the information freely. I wanted to pretend I still had some sense of control over my fate, over what was happening. But even Julius sensed I was not the man I used to be. Hollow now. Because he didn¡¯t even blasted me with air blasts or any especially powerful clouts.


    I coughed up specks of blood.


    ¡°You might be immune, guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°As the bridger gene offers protection against several kind of viruses and you seem to be asymptomatic.¡± Before I could even refuse, he said, ¡°Offer me a sample of your blood. Should you be immune, Bernhart Industries and the government shall develop a vaccine against the virus and you shall receive a portion of the profits. The Zielkkenhom Foundation shall distribute them free of charge to the poor and low-income peoples. Furthermore, I myself shall guarantee Almie¡¯s safety.¡±


    I just wanted to yell that Almyra was dead, that she was probably a terro ¡­ a Harmonist, but thousands of frightening fantasies burst into my mind like a swarm of bees ready to sting me. Should I give him the samples knowing what Zielkkenhom stood for? Knowing that hundreds of thousands could become ill or perish? Knowing that they could have even caused a pandemic on purpose? Or should I refuse to give the samples and risk causing a pandemic? Did I want to let millions perish because of my ideas, or my family? What did God want me to do? What was the right choice? Both seemed right and wrong. ¡°Can¡¯t someone else give you the samples?¡±


    ¡°Your disfigured bridger buddy already handed us his samples.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°You shall need to trust me, guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°But you can be certain I only will the best for this nation.¡°


    ¡°I know, Julius,¡± I said. ¡°But you and I have very different definitions of what¡¯s best for this nation.¡±


    ¡°Make your decision, guttersnipe,¡± he growled. ¡°Every second wasted is time that could be spent developing a vaccine, finding a cure, saving our country, your family, all of us.¡±


    How could he be so hopeful? Did he just love Almyra so much that he¡¯d forgo reasoning? Had Zielkkenhom brainwashed him so much that he actually thought he and Almyra could survive a raw Eugenex blast? Or that I was so stupid that I¡¯d think my family could have survived that? Was Julius really that na?ve? I guessed seeing my family dead robbed me of my naivet¨¦.


    I thought I would refuse giving my blood samples, but the thought of everyone perishing because of my selfishness barreled my mind. And I could not discard it. Them. They¡¯ll all die. Because of you. Murderer. You brought a plague upon us. And did nothing while the world collapsed again.


    If people who stood for sinful ideas did something righteous, I should help them, right? I didn¡¯t know if that line of reasoning was moral or not. And gravity constricted my heart, coiled my organs, but I had made my decision, and I was going to stick to it. ¡°I shall give you the samples, but I don¡¯t want your money.¡± The words clouted my chest as if I had no lungs. And could not breathe.


    ¡°Stretch your arm.¡± Julius then drew out a syringe.


    And I thought those feelings were going to vanish, but I still felt my veins constrict, an axe slice my soul. And I even pictured myself in the scorching place. And I felt that no matter what I did, I was going to end up there. But I couldn¡¯t let those feelings rule my decisions. I had to decide by reason and giving the sample was the right thing, right? But did I really want Zielkkenhom offering free shots to the poor? What if they had Eugenex? What if they used my DNA as a way to poison the Naturals with Eugenex or who knew what else?


    The syringe stood a ninth of a second away from my arm. It was then or never. All of my feelings and frightening fantasies and doubts grew as the crowds did during the Multiplication. I had a decision to make, and I made one. And I was going to stick to it, for real. I didn¡¯t know if it was right or wrong, didn¡¯t know if it was a sin or not, didn¡¯t know if it was what God willed for me or not, but I did it anyway. I hauled away my arm. ¡°Find someone else.¡±


    ¡°Do you wish for billions to perish? Do you wish for your family to perish? Your mother, father, sister?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re already dead.¡± Words emotionless. It felt sinful not giving my DNA. But still, despite my veins twisting, despite the gravels, despite everything, I couldn¡¯t let Zielkkenhom inject naturals with Eugenex, not without their consent, at least. I wasn¡¯t going to do that. That wasn¡¯t Christian.


    ¡°Think about it, guttersnipe,¡± Julius said. ¡°Agree to have the sample retrieved, and you shall attain liberty for your kind.¡± He leaned toward me and opened his hand for a handshake. Now with his palm parallel to mine. ¡°I myself shall reform the Non-Enhanced Defense Act to your liking.¡±


    Did not seem he was lying. He even whipped out the Proposed Measures for the Common Weal of Naturals Law, dubbed the Ellie Law. It invalidated all previous laws and decrees targeted at Naturals. My father could have gotten an office job. Those who wished to relocate to the southern territories could have done so. Ellie could have gotten prosthetics. Or an exoskeleton. Those in the Zielkkenhomvilles could have gotten jobs reserved for Impures. And all without forcing Eugenex on them. ¡°This seems too good to be true. I know better than to trust you.¡±


    ¡°Believe it, gamin.¡± After new elections to replace lawmakers who had perished in the Ceremony and a pretend political battle in Congress, the law would have passed. But for all intents and purposes, the law was already law of the land. If I handed my DNA. ¡°What about the backlash from the Enhanceds?¡±


    ¡°I could not care in the slightest about it,¡± he says. ¡°A leader ought to do what he ought to do, despite criticisms and complaints.¡±


    He was right in that, but I didn¡¯t know what was going on in his sick mind, so I remained silent.


    ¡°Refuse to grant your samples, guttersnipe,¡± he says. ¡°And a plague shall befall upon your kind.¡±


    What did I do? The gravels cannoned my mind, to the point I though my brain would explode. Or I¡¯d go insane. But then I remembered the Rosary in my pocket. And thought about God. On who I¡¯d have preferred to face, and have to justify my actions. Julius? The Impures and Naturals? Or God. The answer became clear, despite me feeling I was already in the spiritual Bridge. ¡°I won¡¯t give you my sample. Julius.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Do you not care about the Naturals?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I said. ¡°But I won¡¯t risk a pandemic to help them.¡±


    ¡°Do you not will to save their world, free your kind?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I said. ¡°But I won¡¯t risk a genocide to free them.¡±


    ¡°Do you not care about Almie?¡± he said. ¡°Will you not sin to assist her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s dead, Julius,¡± I said. In more pain than I thought I¡¯d be. ¡°So is my family. So is everyone who was there. The Chair¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence, bridger.¡± He tried to mask the anxiety that must have consumed his soul. ¡°My Chairman did not perish. My Almie is still alive. The feeble saps there must have perished. But not them.¡± Hope blazed in his eyes. ¡°Your girlfriend might have perished in your arms because of your weakness, but my Almie did not.¡±


    I stood up and aimed for his face, but he just sneered and immobilized my arm. ¡°You bastard idiot!¡±


    ¡°I care no¡ª¡±


    ¡°Based on what I saw back then at Section A, you and Almyra have been nothing for quite some time now!¡± I said. ¡°And the only reason you¡¯re alive right now is thanks to me. The only reason you¡¯re alive now is because you were too scared to go to the Ceremony because of what some stupid idiots gossiped about you on social media.¡±


    Julius let go of the immobilization, as if he thought himself unreadable. And I managed to sneak a punch at his temple. But I thought it hurt me more than him. His hands might have been soft, but his face was of zielkithe.


    ¡°And the only reason my Ashley¡¯s dead is because of your damned Eugenex! Not because I was too scared that people would call me the Milksop Lieutenant once they saw me. Not because they slandered me. You should have been there to save Almyra! But you weren¡¯t because of what people were saying about you. And that¡¯s why you¡¯re naively hoping Almyra¡¯s still alive.¡± I glared at Julius, still, as if I had immobilized him. ¡°Because it eats you alive, corrodes you that you couldn¡¯t save her. That you were not there for her. And that nothing you do will ever change that! Nothing! Not a bloody thing.¡±


    I guessed my anger had been brewing ever since the blast, ever since that incident with the bridgers after the Non-Enhanced Defense Act passed, but it took Julius¡¯ words to burst it. Materialize it. And I knew what was coming. I just flexed my knees and sidestep, pretending I could defeat an Achroite, and perhaps a part of me thought I could, but Julius didn¡¯t do anything. He just sat on a nearby desk and said, ¡°Mine was a poor choice of words, bridger.¡±


    First time I had seen an Achroite who wasn¡¯t Aisha Lexington apologize. Sort of apologize. More like an acknowledgement of wrongdoing, but still, it was a step forward. But then it clouted me. Tears didn¡¯t form on Julius¡¯ eyes, but he just stared at his smartwatch. Hunched over. Dejected. Not crying perhaps because I was there. I guessed hoping that Almyra would contact him. Or Zielkkenhom. Or anyone at the Ceremony, really. Anyone at the Ceremony he had failed to protect. At the Ceremony he was supposed to protect. And I felt bad for him. I guessed we were not so different after all.


    I stepped toward him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about what idiots say about you online,¡± I said. ¡°I know how the Enhanced are really like. VirtuaNet doesn¡¯t lie. The Bridge doesn¡¯t lie. And the things I¡¯ve seen them do to Naturals, to Impures, to anyone they consider garbage, and even to themselves, they¡¯d ¡­¡± I just shook my head. ¡°You¡¯re a better person than them, Julius. Don¡¯t let them get to you. Don¡¯t let them get you down. Consider that free counsel.¡±


    Julius just sneered, though it took him a picosecond more than usual. ¡°I need no advice from a guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°I care not about your opinions.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Sure, Julius, let¡¯s say you don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°Do not joke with me, bridger,¡± he said. ¡°We are not friends.¡± He stood up. ¡°Just answer my question. Shall you assist your nation, or shall you wither in selfishness? Putting your faith, your alleged God before others.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not selfish to put God first,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t understand Him.¡±


    ¡°But I do,¡± he said. ¡°Unreasonable demands. For a laurel crown that doesn¡¯t rot, for a laurel crown that does not exist.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± I said. ¡°He does.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to argument your delusions,¡± he said. ¡°But I ask you again: Do you will for a plague to befall upon your kind?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, Julius.¡± Confident I had won. ¡°But I shall not risk annihilation to spare them of your ruthlessness.¡± I stared right at his eyes. And he did not tower me anymore. I did. ¡°I shall fight your callousness, and defeat you should you ever lay a hand on the Naturals.¡±


    ¡°I need not lay a hand on garbage, guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°The virus shall take care of it. And it shall all be on you.¡±


    Before I could even react, he stretched his arm and immobilized me. Felt how my lungs shut. And I could not breathe. Though it was not that different from the gravels¡¯ clouts¡¯ gravity. He then drew out the blood sample and hurled me to the floor. I shut the yelp from the raw Eugenex wound. ¡°Brace yourself for the upcoming news.¡±


    I laughed. Julius just winced. Confusion drowned his face, first time surprise nested in his eyes. But he composed himself, though knowing I had noticed his reaction.


    ¡°Now I know why you went through the trouble of asking me for the samples if you were going to take them anyway,¡± I said, hoping Gieves Syndrome wasn¡¯t making me lose my sanity. ¡°You knew I¡¯d refuse. You knew I¡¯d look bad if I refused. You need a patsy to allay the fears of the nation. You need someone to blame for the blast. You need to make an example of me. To show your power to the Harmonists. What¡¯s it going to be, Julius? Executing me? Sending me to prison? Zee Gevangenis? The Frontier?


    ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot, Julius. I know there¡¯s no way short of a miracle for an unarmed Natural to defeat an Achroite. A Fengel, perhaps, but not an Achroite. I will not wager my life for foolish risks. But even if I were an Achroite, I would not fight you.¡±


    I saw Julius¡¯ reaction. He must have thought I was delusional. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re planning to do against me, but I really don¡¯t care,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re on the same side, for the time being anyway. We both want to avert a Harmonist takeover, a rebellion. We both want to find the cure, something the Harmonists would not do. We both suffered at their hands. My family, Almyra¡ª¡± He clenched his fists, probably to maintain the sadness at bay, so he did not tear up in front of me. ¡°¡ªI cared for her too. But I admit I didn¡¯t know her as much as you.


    ¡°So I don¡¯t care who the hero is in all of this,¡± I said. ¡°As long as there is one. As long as we manage to bring the Harmonists to justice and find the cure.¡±


    ¡°What about your touted liberty?¡±


    ¡°A vapid concept if we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    Julius sneered. ¡°I thought you Naturals dunces, but I guess I was ¡­ I had miscalculated.¡±


    ¡°You can say you were wrong.¡±


    Julius just sneered and stepped away. ¡°In an hour or so you shall perish, so I shall grant you the mercy of a last hour in peace. Do whatever it is you must to be at ease with your God, bridger.¡±


    He left me in a containment cell in the Tower of Rebirth¡¯s basement. I thought rage would pulse through my veins, but it didn¡¯t. Nothing did. Not guilt. Not even sadness. Just a void as empty as the Bridge, as much as I tried to hope for something better, as much as I tried to force myself to find a reason to live.


    But I just wanted to die.


    Not because I wanted to stop living, but because I willed for my family. Ma, pa, Ellie, Tim, even my girlfriend Ashley, whom I had asked to become part of my family, whom I had asked to marry me. I could be with them in the Afterlife. Eternal happiness at last.


    Because this was not my fight. This was Julius¡¯ fight. This was Fearghal¡¯s fight. And I guessed even Maximillian¡¯s. They were the Enhanceds. They had the resources and abilities to fight the Harmonists. Me, though, I shut my eyes and waited for my punishment. Hoped even, that Julius would kill me. So I could at last return to the Lord, and be with my family, in Heaven.


    But then again, if I resigned to death, if I did not fight back, if I let someone take my life, as an excuse to say I did not commit suicide, I might have not ended up with my family. Worse, I might have not even ended up in Heaven. ¡­


    So I decided to endure, to brave, to hope through the pain, but I guessed it was too late to change my mind. Two minutes before Julius¡¯ address to the nation, some soldiers immobilized me and transported me to Section A for the first official communication since the blast, where a special grant of access had been arranged for the Naturals who wished to see the address live, although Lezavre Corportation had declared that they would not let the Harmonists expropriate the company, and that VirtuaNet would remain segregated by class.


    It clouted me.


    Shoot, what had I done?


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 24: Executive Order 21528

    ¡°Good evening, viewers,¡± a news anchor said from one of the Tower of Rebirth¡¯s hologram screens that hanged from its walls. ¡°We bring you live to the Hall of ?thelwulf where Acting President Julius Nabritt¡¯s press conference is about to commence. He has just signed Executive Order 21528 of 10 Regenus, Year 17, titled ?Establishment of Preventive Measures Against the Biological Hazard Posed by a Mutation of Virus H5N1¡¯.¡±


    And for the first time, fear blazed in people¡¯s eyes. Of all classes. At least, those gathered in Section A¡¯s main plaza. And for the first time, they did not know who ruled the country. For the first time, they thought their reign would end. For the first time, they thought they could perish. For the first time, they had become Naturals and Impures. For the first time, the Achroites and Fenglas realized what the lower classes had known all along; what they had hammered into the minds of those they thought contaminated.


    That they could die. At the hands of someone stronger.


    Even the handful of children hugging their parents knew; in tears, asking if they were going to live.


    So anyone could have felt relief, but I did not feel vindicated. I did not feel satisfied. Because vengeance didn¡¯t fulfill me. The solution to oppression was not to oppress those who afflicted you before. And certainly not to call an ethnic cleansing against anyone who dared opposed you, but to end discrimination, to make everyone equal under the law. Not to become a victimizer yourself. Making children wonder if they would live was not justice.


    I never thought I¡¯d say this, but a twinge of sadness hauled my soul when I thought the Achroites and Fenglas had to learn their lesson in such a brutal manner. And an even greater one when I thought that the Naturals, and anyone who didn¡¯t support that insane sociopath would have perished as well under Freedom Voice¡¯s purification statute.


    I would stop them. And I would find the cure. I would save them all, Natural and Enhanced.


    Julius stood behind a podium. Twenty-eight year old Major Maximillian Carnot at his right, the Wind of the Loire. And at his left, finishing the Triumvirate that pillared Zielkkenhom¡¯s rule, twenty-seven year old Warrant Officer Brass Knoll the Shredder. My brother. Though that was not his real name. Fearghal was. He chose it. When he forsook Our Lord.


    Long waves of jet black hair coursed all the way to his waist, longer than Aisha¡¯s or Almyra¡¯s hair, but no one would dare confuse Brass Knoll for a woman because of his sturdy build, broad square jaw, mammoth arms, and even more massive shoulders, all more imposing than Tygo¡¯s build or Zielkkenhom¡¯s gravitas. My brother¡¯s stance and deep voice could even shoot ice spikes through the bravest of Body Fenglas, to the point that even I did not want to cross him, and I had seen him cry. After the Harmonist explosion at the water plant he used to work in. Last time he did. Guessed any shard of compassion the Holy Spirit had instilled in him must have forsook him when I caught him snorting a ground Eugenex pill to pass the ¨¢nwealdesbord¡¯s admittance tests. And then he progressed through the ranks until he fought alongside the Body Fenglas and the Achroites. That made up for his long hair and lack of height. My brother wasn¡¯t particularly short though, but among the Enhanceds, what used to be average had become substandard.


    Brass Knoll preferred it that way though, for he loved challenges, and his ego bloated whenever a new Enhanced like him, could compete with the Achroite oldbloods. Had to, even if deep down he really loathed it, if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to fulfill his goal, regardless of the cost, regardless of the suffering he¡¯d caused. Because they did not nickname Brass Knoll the Shredder for nothing. And though he¡¯d sowed death in military training, favored by Zielkkenhom¡¯s lackeys, I once saw him chastise his platoon for murdering a Natural without cause. Though Brass then lamented the Natural had remained a fool, instead of choosing Eugenex like him, I still hoped for him. I still prayed he¡¯d regain his senses. Because I knew his old self. Had seen it. But I feared it had vanished, forever entombed in the Bridge. And only his new self remained. His new self that would die the eternal death. And there¡¯d really be no hope left.


    I hoped for all the Enhanceds to change. All but one. And though I wanted to believe it was because he could not change, I knew it was more because I was Jonah and he was Nineveh. And deep down, though it sliced my veins to admit it, because I knew that to be wrong, I kind of wished he did not change, so God¡¯s justice would rain upon him. And eternally char him.


    Brass Knoll was not the one who set forth the ire that drowned my soul, the Holy Spirit within me, the reasoning. Not even Julius or Zielkkenhom were.


    Maximillian Carnot was.


    I thought my wrath had subsided. I prayed it had. I thought the rage that pulsed through my veins that day would never return. I feared that day. Ice flames scorched my nerves, though I felt not snow, nor fire, as I expected it would have, but as a petrified axe that bulleted through my synapses, my veins, slashed my skin as a scimitar clashed against a tree trunk. Because it was the only day I thought I had it within me to kill someone in cold blood. And not just shoot him. Or stab him. But crush his skull and shatter his spine. Like an Enhanced would end someone¡¯s life. Until he remained nothing but a worthless putrid corpse. Vermin food.


    I did not, as Aisha stopped me, saved me, before I¡¯d lose my soul. An Achroite had saved my soul. That¡¯s why I thought they could change. That¡¯s why I thought not all deserved to die. Though each day the Enhanceds seemed to rot even more. And Maximillian¡¯s soul had putrefied even more than Zielkkenhom¡¯s one, even though Maximillian was a Natural only nine years ago.


    He shot Ellie.


    Paralyzed her.


    On purpose.


    As a way to prove his commitment to Eugenex. His rejection of Natural genes. His embrace of Eugenex. That he was a new man. That he lived and breathed Zielkkenhom¡¯s r¨ªceabl?d, though it cost him the hope his eyes used to glint. But I guessed he had succeeded, by all worldly metrics, by his metrics. The first Natural to become a Fengel.


    My brother Fearghal was the second.


    At a distance you could have confused Maximillian for a tall lithe woman with short slightly spiky hair because of his face¡¯s soft features, lack of a broad jaw, and absence of broad lats that formed the v shape that meant you were a proper Achroite, though few Achroite women cared for such attributes, but you knew he was a man once you heard him speak. Deep voice, more than Zielkkenhom¡¯s, though not as much as mine. Conciliatory and soothing. Must have been why Zielkkenhom chose him for peace efforts with the Harmonists and the EF, but his voice would never soothe me. Not after what he¡¯d done. Not after what he did to an innocent little girl.


    Bastard.


    Didn¡¯t know how he was still alive, though I guessed it was not my place to worry about what God did or didn¡¯t do with other people¡¯s lives. I guessed, I just had to focus on saving as many as possible. Regardless of circumstances. I just prayed I never had to save Maximillian.


    I didn¡¯t know if they could change, but one thing I knew.


    None of the three were my friends. And they would not fool me.


    ¡°My fellow friends,¡± Maximillian said. ¡°Before Acting President Nabritt details the course of action to defend ourselves against the Harmonist threat, and the biological attack they unleashed upon us innocent civilians through the H5N1 virus, I shall assure you of the continuity of our government, of the Fain administration and the Zielkkenhom Foundation¡¯s programs.¡±


    I stared at his face, hoping to catch him lying, but he sounded genuine, looked genuine. Must have learned from the master of lies. As I didn¡¯t think Maximillian capable of having real feelings, empathy for others. Grief must have drowned him because the Harmonists had outwitted him and his gang of lost souls.


    But then the gravels pummeled me. Because I could not see the pain in his eyes. Because I felt a sc¨ªollan of joy that he¡¯d lost to the Harmonists. And though I knew that to be unchristian, I could not dispel it. An ice casket buried me. Because I was not sure it was only the gravels. I could not justify what he did to Ellie. And though I felt I had forgiven him, I guessed I had not. Because forgiveness was not a hollow word. Because forgiveness was not just something you said to feel good about yourself. Forgiveness meant action. Forgiveness meant strength. Fortitude.


    As Ellie had.


    She forgave him.


    I had not.


    But I needed to do the same. If I wanted God to forgive my sins as well.


    My God, grant me the strength to forgive the bast ¡­ Maximillian.


    I felt nothing. How callous. How sick. Was I just like my brother? Did I walk in his path? I prayed I would not fall. I prayed we would not fall.


    Maximillian placed his hand on his chest. ¡°We may have lost our leaders, our cabinet, our supreme justices and legislators, but we have not lost our hope. We have not lost our strength. We have not lost our commitment to prosperity.


    ¡°So let us join together, Natural and Enhanced, under the enlightened guidance of Acting President Julius Nabritt, and fight the terror that threatens to decimate our nation, that threatens to snatch our souls and rob us of the values we know are true and just.¡± He paused for a second. Let his words sink in. I still felt nothing, though I did not let the gravels lapidate me. Somewhat. ¡°All onward the glorious land!¡±


    The chorus of the Drythl¨¦op. The chorus of the national anthem. The chorus of the anthem I was forced to sing every day in the Rebirth School. Almost everyone cheered and raised their hands in unison at the melodic bass tune.


    The Harmonist sympathizers in the crowd remained silent. Though for them I could feel grief. At their loss. But I knew Maximillian was worth the same as them, regardless of what he did. Though I still wanted him to rot in prison, face justice for his crimes. Which he never did. Because he attacked a Natural. And it was before the Non-Enhanced Defense Act.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Once those gathered in Section A finished singing the anthem, the Drythl¨¦op, or stomping the floor in protest, Julius adjusted the microphone to his height, though I thought it was just a way to activate the mike¡¯s voice modulators, and gazed at the crowd for one second. Just like Zielkkenhom would have. And though I thought he¡¯d have the Harmonist sympathizers arrested, he chose to do nothing. Did not even sneer at them. An ice blade sliced my veins. When I thought of the reason why.


    ¡°Firstly, I will to ensure that Freedom¡¯s Voice and his gang of terrorists is not in control of our great nation. We are. Represented by yours truly. Supported by the virtuous servants who stand beside me, and an emergency cabinet comprised of the best and brightest mind of our nation. So fear not. Fret not. For I, Julius Nabritt, am in control of our country. For I, Julius Nabritt, shall save us from the Harmonist threat, as well as the even greater threat posed by the H5N1 virus bridger Cael Cavanaugh released into the world.¡±


    His words seemed to calm the crowd. At the expense of my own. I wondered what the Naturals thought. What everyone at the surface thought. That the Harmonists had goaded me into setting forth the end of the world. And it was a good thing that Julius could ease the gathered crowds. Because his eyes had blazed fear, even if only for a quarter of a second. And if I had noticed, the Harmonists must have as well. There was no other option now, just in case Julius was thinking of letting me go. But now he¡¯d have to demonstrate his strength to them. That he was in control. Not them.


    And I¡¯d be his guinea pig.


    ¡°By the authority vested in me as Acting President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of the North, including section 1822 of the Biological Safety Act of 4 Reifare, year 2 and the National Security Act of 5 Mistaire, year 1, it is hereby ordered as follows:


    Section 1. Bridger Services.


    <ol>


    <li>A) It shall be considered high treason to request Cael Cavanaugh¡¯s services as a bridger or any derived services thereof, as his bridger license is from now on revoked and has been found guilty of conspiracy against the United States of the North. Anyone who assists or contacts Cael Cavanaugh for any reason whatsoever shall be guilty of high treason and be executed by the authorities as they see fit.¡±</li>


    </ol>


    It was as if thousands, millions of needles pricked me. And then Mildred¡¯s words struck me: it will end badly for bridgers. Except that it didn¡¯t end badly for bridgers. It ended badly for me.


    ¡°Section 2. Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception.


    <ol>


    <li>A) The privileges bestowed upon the Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception are hereby suspended, as is its legal status as an Autonomous City.</li>


    <li>B) The territory of the aforementioned city shall be granted in cession to the Zielkkenhom Foundation.</li>


    <li>C) The new administrators shall do with any future inhabitants as they see fit.¡±</li>


    </ol>


    The district. My district. My district going to the Zielkkenhom Foundation? And before I could even finish processing what had just happened, Julius continued.


    ¡°Section 3. Biosecurity Measures.


    <ol>


    <li>A) Until further information on the nature of the virus is discovered, everyone, Enhanced and Natural, who has come in contact with Almyra Bernhart, Cael Cavanaugh, Mildred Williams, or Samuel Gieves in the previous four weeks, shall be placed in forced quarantine.</li>


    </ol>


    This executive order is, as of this moment, in effect. I shall be in charge of the quarantine program. This is all for your safety. As I shall do my utmost to protect everyone.¡±


    I thought everything had finished. But it had not. That reading was boxty compared to what followed.


    ¡°Your hero, bridger Cael Cavanaugh is not with you, Naturals,¡± Julius declared. ¡°He is against you. And I have proof.¡±


    A hologram projection emerged on everyone¡¯s smartwatches. I guessed those in the Zielkkenhomvilles viewed it on the screen plastered on the buildings. But that¡¯s not what mattered. What mattered was the content. What mattered was what happened next. What mattered was what made me question if I had done the right thing, if God was with me, and if I was really putting God above all. The projection began. Realistic. Almost as if it had happened while we were there.


    ¡°Do you not will to save the Naturals? Do you not will to save their world, free your kind?¡± Julius¡¯ hologram said.


    And then he edited the video. Devious bastard. And I had fallen right into his trick. Shouldn¡¯t have. Didn¡¯t know how I fell for it. I always thought myself smarter than those alpha wannabes, but I guessed I was wrong. Brutally.


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± my hologram said. The room quieted, until not a sound echoed, but the words vibrated in my ears. Resonated. And I was alone, the echo of waves crashing into Ardoil¨¦an, alone in my thoughts, in my mind, in the Bridge of my soul. Resonance in my brain. I don¡¯t. What must have the Naturals been thinking? The Harmonists sympathizers? Those just waiting for the slightest excuse for bloodshed?


    ¡°So stand not with him, support not him,¡± Julius declared, as if he didn¡¯t need the microphone. ¡°Stand with those who will to save you. Stand with Warrant Officer Brass the Shredder. Stand with Major Carnot. Stand with your true liberty. With yours truly. Stand with Eugenex.¡±


    The Impures in the audience cheered and applauded, their faces as if an angel had assured them they were going to Heaven. But their angel was darkness guised as light, and their paradise torment guised as apple amber. It ripped my soul, sliced it, that all I could do was watch as I let them fall into the utopia that would incinerate them. And that¡¯s when it clouted me. I was my brother¡¯s keeper. And I was their brother. I was the brother of the Naturals. But I was also the brother of the Enhanceds. And I knew what that meant. I thought about what they had done to Ashley, to the Naturals, to me. But I knew what I had to do, even if I had to absorb the bile that formed in my guts. Because bile was not of God. I was Isaac, and they Ishmael. I was the older brother, and they the prodigal son.


    And then, it clouted me. Not a realization. An actual blast. A Eugenex windblast. Right at my raw Eugenex wound. Right at my bones.


    ¡°I shall not martyr you, guttersnipe,¡± he said. ¡°You shall perish a traitor. Loathed by the Enhanceds. Abhorred by the Naturals.¡±


    I would never forget that sound. The sound of my collarbone fracturing. Vibrated in my ears. Blades of fire. Gashes of ice. Into several pieces. Julius just sneered. And I felt my eyes tear up. But I forced the tears inside. Wasn¡¯t going to cry in front of everyone, in front of the whole nation. I even prayed to God that He granted me the strength not to cry. But I guessed it was His Will for me to cry. I felt the tears scar my face. And I couldn¡¯t do anything about that. That was what lacerated my bones, even more than the fracture. Maximum humilitation. Lost everything. I glanced at the screens on the walls. Cameras zoomed in on my face, my tears, so there¡¯d be no doubt in anyone¡¯s mind, so the whole nation would see me cry, like a child. But I didn¡¯t sob. Remained silent as the tears kept flowing. And then the laughter began. All of them. Most of them. Was all equal to me. All I heard was the laughter, the mockery.


    ¡°Behold, the great bridger Cael Cavanaugh, the founder of the district system, in tears,¡± Julius declared, guffawing. Bastard. ¡°A weakling is what he is. A crying milksop.¡± And they all kept jeering, recording with their smartwatches, sharing, posting; enjoying my agony.


    ¡°And to whomever wills to follow the crying guttersnipe¡¯s footsteps,¡± Julius said. ¡°Your district shall be ceded to the Zielkkenhom Foundation.¡±


    But then I heard a voice, a familiar voice, a voice that strengthened me. Which soothed me. Somewhat. Because I did not know my family¡¯s fate.


    ¡°Today is November 28, 2070 Anni Domini,¡± Aisha¡¯s hologram said. I glanced in that direction. Through Lastenia¡¯s smartwatch.


    Aisha! She did care.


    ¡°Today is not 8 Koelaire, year 17,¡± Lastenia said. ¡°But November 28, 2070 Anni Domini.¡±


    A small act of defiance. Meant nothing to the Enhanceds. The ramblings of fools. Wasn¡¯t even illegal. But to me, it was the strength that powered the martyrs, the wind that eroded canyons. A whisper, a zephyr more powerful than a hurricane, for no hurricane could make a canyon; only the whispers of strength that seemed weak, of voices that faded into the Bridge, but whose cords resonated for eternity.


    And what axed my soul even more was that I thought the Naturals in the Section, those I had helped, were going to start chanting the old calendar, the Anni Domini, but they did not. It is said that silence deafens. But in this case it didn¡¯t. The laughs, the taunts of the Enhanceds did. And the silence of the Naturals just compounded the laughter.


    I had given them food, water, housing, religious representatives, everything Zielkkenhom forbade, without expecting anything in return, and they had paid me, not with their support, not with their voices, but with their apathy, their cowardice, their silence. Had I wasted everything on them, on lukewarm Naturals?


    I was supposed to be selfless. And I thought I was. But I did not think God had wanted me to be that selfless. Perhaps I was being selfish, and I knew that to be wrong, but I did not want them to riot for me, or even fight. But would it have been too much to ask for a clamor, an Anni Domini at least? Had I not accomplished a thing for the Naturals?


    God, grant me strength, to endure, to be selfless.


    Some Esne guards silenced Lastenia, but did not arrest her. Because I signaled them not to. The clamors would have begun if they had. And Julius continued.


    ¡°Cael Cavanaugh is found guilty of high treason and shall be executed by drowning in Zee Gevangenis a week from now,¡± he said.


    Zee Gevangenis. No one had escaped from there, and everyone who had tried ended up in the sea. Julius¡¯ goons immobilized me, forced a biomask on me and paraded me through the Section, all the way to the elevator on the opposite end. I felt in a reality television show. But I didn¡¯t care about the cameras.


    ¡°Traitor!¡± a man yelled. A Natural. Sadly. The one whose wife died in the blast, crushed by a statue. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you myself!¡± He drew out a gun and aimed at me but Tygo and some soldiers disabled him.


    ¡°Saved by the soldiers!¡± he hollered. ¡°Saved by the Achroites. Traitor!¡±


    Tygo just clouted the Natural¡¯s thorax with a fist of rage so strong that bones cracked. And blood seeped from the Natural¡¯s mouth.


    The silent crowds were not silent anymore.


    Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. The yells resonated in my mind. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. They even tried to knock me down. Spit on me. But Tygo airblasted them away, as if they were vermin. As if he needed to destroy them, but I stared at him and shook my head. It wasn¡¯t worth it killing them.


    For a second there, I thought Tygo wouldn¡¯t listen, as he had even sighed, and the Esneas had decimated Naturals for less, but a speck of horror glinted in Tygo¡¯s eyes when he caught sight of the Natural¡¯s bloody shirt. Of pain searing the face of the Natural he¡¯d just slammed. Of him being no different than the wrathful mob that craved for my blood. The ¨¢nwealdesbord was meant to protect everyone in the nation, Natural or Enhanced. On paper, at least. And he was one of the few who truly believed those words. So Tygo just kept his fists ready to make a windblast, to intimate those who¡¯d slay me, but did not keep them from hurling saliva droplets at the caravan of my fall.


    Had they all forgotten about God so easily? Was everything I had done for them not worth a thing? Had I not changed a soul?


    But their words did not matter, for I knew them false. And besides, I had my sight fixed on someone else. I didn¡¯t want to die before I talked to her. ¡°Please find my family if they¡¯re alive. Save them. Save everyone. Tell them I¡¯ll come back. Tell them I¡¯ll protect them, and everyone. I promise.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Aisha¡¯s hologram said. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°No Natural shall needlessly perish as I live,¡± Lastenia said.


    Thank God. Not all was lost. And Aisha was talking to me again. For the time being. And I even caught a glimpse of my brother¡¯s arm tilted forward. As if he wanted to help me. As if he wanted to airblast away the Esne guards taking me to my death. Probably to force me to acquiesce to Eugenex, but his reputation as the Shredder of the ¨¢nwealdesbord preceded him. So I knew he¡¯d not move a second to assist me, as much as it must have corroded what little remained of his soul.


    But joy still streamed down my veins. Because a mustard seed was all it took. Just a mustard seed. Just a tilt. Even Julius seemed slightly disturbed at the vicious horde he¡¯d unleashed. To the point that he even ordered his goons not to injure me as they thrust me into the elevator that lifted us to the Tower¡¯s military heliport. Where I stepped in the jet that transported me to Zee Gevangenis.


    ¡°Ic will always uphold the law, Cael, and vouch for your release,¡± Tygo said, unable to hide the distress in his face. Probably knowing that his words would mean nothing to those in power. To those who¡¯d decide my fate. ¡°But if somehow you survive ¡­ worse laws have been broken.¡± We shook hands. ¡°¡­ Cuirfidh m¨¦ dl¨ªthe eile i bhfeidhm sula dtabharfaidh m¨¦ na h¨²dar¨¢is leat.¡± I will enforce other laws before I hand you to the authorities, in Irish. I guessed the other soldiers could have translated it with their smartwatches, but they seemed too busy trying to appear on camera, that they had arrested the traitor Cael Cavanaugh. Was that all they aspired to?


    By morning I was Cael Cavanaugh, Class A+ bridger with a success rate of 97%. By night, I was Cael Cavanaugh, national crybaby and traitor to all, to be executed upon a week.


    What a day.


    Should have worn a mask and called myself a new name.

 Chapter 25: Together in Isolation

    Nicknamed The Watercress because it looked like a bundle of zielkithe-reinforced watercress, the Zee Gevangenis Prison stood as a self-sufficient habitat over an underwater canyon halfway within the midnight zone of the North Atlantic Ocean, so deep that only Body Fenglas could withstand the pressures without special suits, and not even the faintest sunlight could grasp those inside. But I was used to lightlessness.


    I had always thought Zee Gevangenis would be like a regular maximum-security prison, but it was putrid terror. Vermin nightmares. Wanted to throw up at the water drops and stench that woke me up. Reeked of raw Eugenex. Not as dark as the Bridge, but close enough. And invisible things pricking your skin, sucking your blood every minute. It was raw agony. You wanted to catch them, kill them, but they flickered faster than the light beams of the Bridge. I was fast, but I suppose not as fast as the invisible bloodsuckers. And they even stung your eyes, crept into your nails, your every pore.


    But that wasn¡¯t the worst of it. The worse was going insane from trying to catch them. Guess that was the whole point of it. Invisible things whose flap vibrated in your ears, buzzed. But you couldn¡¯t do anything about it. Because you were a prisoner of the steel watercress, a labyrinth of floors connected by stairs whose steps were artificial mounds. So that even marching into your cell tired you. Broke you. So that you would not have peace even marching to your death.


    Worse than I had in mind. But I guessed that¡¯s what they wanted. That¡¯s what they thought those inside deserved. Death by drowning. The worst sentence. For the worst kind of criminals. And they had no mercy for those here, those who were in their corrupt hands.


    I guessed that was the whole point of the Watercress. Devious bastards. Intelligent savages. So that if you managed to catch one of the invisible pests, whose buzz was torment, you thought you were it, you knew you were it. You knew you were that invisible thing. Worthless. And just as easily as you crushed it with your bare hands, they would crush your body, your soul.


    And even revolting critters sliced your veins in your cell. Metaphorically, of course. But also physically. I felt something crawl under my shirt. And not thinking, not wanting to know what it was, must have been a roach of sorts, I hoped, prayed, I just quashed it, as they would quash me. But then it clouted me. Not that I was going to die, not that I had to escape, but something more mundane. Its slimy organs oozing on my torso. I just ripped off a sleeve of my uniform and wiped it off. Not even seeing what I was wiping.


    ¡°Is anyone there?¡± I yelled, so much that it seemed I didn¡¯t even have vocal chords with me anymore. I punched the door, but an electric current strong enough to singe my hand thrust me into the back of the cell. Felt how the bones in my back splintered a tad. But I did not cry. Not because I didn¡¯t feel pain, or even because I didn¡¯t want to, but because I wanted to escape. From the Bridge I knew you could escape. In the Bridge you were in control. In Zee Gevangenis, you depended on others. I guessed that was the worst of it.


    I just kept yelling, a yelling I knew was pointless, but that at least made me believe I was doing something. And then I just began to laugh, to laugh not to face the facts, not to face the fact that I could die, that I was going to perish, and that I wouldn¡¯t have been able to fulfill the promise I had made Ellie. To make this a world she¡¯d be happy to open her eyes to.


    I sat and closed my eyes, still laughing, but a second later it hit me. And the laugher stopped. Eventually someone was going to open the door to execute me and at that moment I was going to escape. I was certain they weren¡¯t going to let me die in that cell. Those guards, many Enhanceds, and Julius would have salivated at seeing a Natural executed, and if it was a bridger even more, and if it was me, even more.


    So I waited, forty days, forty years, it was all the same. For all I knew, it could have been tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even yesterday, and not because I had lost the ability to be a human watch, like most bridgers were, but because I just didn¡¯t want to track it. I didn¡¯t want to know how long I had been in that hell, so I did everything in my power not to keep track of time.


    That was kind of a funny expression, wasn¡¯t it? To keep track of time, as if time were a train and we were supposed to follow its tracks, or chase its tracks rather. I guessed it was the only thing that is the same for everyone. A minute a minute, and an hour an hour. But now I thought it just seemed funny because I was in prison, in solitary confinement, and I had to distract myself to keep me sane, but not so much that I would lose sight of prayer, the main reason why I didn¡¯t lose my sanity in there.


    I paced, stretched, prayed, hopped, exercised, did anything I could to avoid staring at my thoughts, at my doubts, to avoid thinking about those who had perished, to avoid having those gravels irrupt in my mind. They were all alive, they were all alive, they were all alive, despite my thoughts, despite my feelings, despite my¡ªa click then echoed in the cell. The slot opened. And I thought it was going to be a drowsing gas or something like that, but it was a food capsule, a hand that dropped a food capsule. And just then it hit me.


    I leaped ahead, snatched it, and hauled back its fingers as if trying to bust the door with them. Someone outside grunted¡ªthe first time I had heard an Enhanced ever exhibit pain¡ªand slammed the door right at me. And I didn¡¯t know if it was the Enhanced officer busting the door, or its electroshock, or both, but I ended up in the back of the cell, with a gun aimed at my forehead, and a warden ready to shoot me.


    But before he could even fire, the adrenaline and the Holy Spirit helped me stand up and sidestep behind him. The bullet ended up plastered on the wall. As I was going to end up if I didn¡¯t do something. But I didn¡¯t think about fleeing, I just elbowed his upper back. And that was when the consequences of my decision hit me, metaphorically and literally. The warden just sneered and elbowed my thorax with the strength of Samson hurling an Atlas stone. And I landed just in front of another warden. And that was when I knew it was going to be my end.


    That warden stepped towards me and aimed at my chest, but then glanced at the other one and said, ¡°You know we can¡¯t kill him yet.¡± He then kicked my ribs. ¡°No matter how much we want to.¡±


    The other warden sighed. ¡°I know.¡± He then stepped towards me, seized my shirt, and lifted me. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can survive 4.2 without going insane.¡±


    And before I could even flex my knees, they hurled me in Cell 4.2, where everyone had gone insane in hours. Nicknamed the Watercress Cell, Cell 4.2 reeked of the stench of death, the stench of Zee Gevangenis, the stench of genetically modified watercress. After the first minutes, my vision blurred, my body weakened, my brain fogged, I even tumbled. And that stench pervaded Cell 4.2. Was that what made everyone lose their sanity? That concoction of artificial watercress, cherry, other plants, and insecticide fumes? It didn¡¯t help that cherry, real cherry, was Ashley¡¯s favorite scent.


    I closed my eyes for a second and then opened them. There she was¡ªAlmyra. I closed and opened them again. She was gone, but someone else emerged, someone I was all too familiar with.


    ¡°You stared right at me and told me you only had eyes for me. But now your eyes are for that girl.¡±


    ¡°Ashley, that¡¯s not ¡­ Are you even real?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Are you not happy to see me? Have you forgotten the moments we spent together so quickly? That day by the bay?¡±


    Was I happy to see her? If I was, that meant I was happy to go insane and retreat to my own personal VirtuaNet. But if I wasn¡¯t, that meant I was sane but that I wasn¡¯t happy to see her. How could I not be happy to see the love of my life? The woman I wanted to marry, the woman I had asked to be my wife that day, that New Year¡¯s Eve.


    She leaned towards me. ¡°So, are you?¡±


    Love or sanity? Those were my two choices, and, like many things in my head, both seemed right and wrong at once. There had to be another option, but my mind wasn¡¯t clear enough to think.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t answered. I guess you have forgotten me by now.¡± She stared down at her hands, didn¡¯t even look at me, her sight fixated on her bracelet.


    I hugged her. I couldn¡¯t bear seeing her like that, even if she wasn¡¯t real. ¡°Just answer me,¡± I said. ¡°Are you real?¡±


    ¡°Why does that matter? You shouldn¡¯t let other people¡¯s perception of reality affect you. I might be an apparition, or I might be a figment of your mind caused by guilt or the Zee Gevangenis scent.¡±


    I stepped back. That wasn¡¯t the answer I had hoped for. I slid my hand past my face, hoping that maybe she would disappear, but she didn¡¯t. She stood there, with her warm smile.


    ¡°What¡¯s important is that you see me and I see you.¡±


    That phrase struck my mind, my heart, my soul. What if she was right? What if it only mattered that I saw her? What if the only thing relevant was that she was real to me? And she certainly felt real, tangible even.


    She stepped towards me and held my hand. ¡°After your execution, we¡¯ll finally be able to live together.¡± She smiled and embraced me.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    After my execution ¡­ I wasn¡¯t going to die there. Not even Ashley was going to make me die there. She pursed her lips. ¡°You cannot hide your thoughts from me,¡± she said. ¡°I know you¡¯re thinking about that girl as well.¡±


    ¡°So then I¡¯m imagining you, if you know everything I know.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, or maybe I know you too well, unlike that girl,¡± she said. ¡°Who, deep down, you¡¯re happy she died.¡±


    I lurched back and my skin tightened.


    She then strolled towards me, squeezed my hand, and gazed into my eyes. ¡°I know you.¡± She giggled. ¡°You desire to stay with me, here, forever.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what was going through my mind, but I just held her hand back. And I was about to stay with her, wherever we were. And I was about to clutch her other hand but my guardian angel stopped me. I¡¯m certain that he did. I couldn¡¯t drop everything and die, even if that meant losing Ashley, forever. So I slid my hand from her grasp. ¡°The real Ashley wouldn¡¯t say that. I will save them, despite what you say.¡±


    She smiled and held my hands again. ¡°If you accompany me, Cael, you shall escape your execution,¡± she said. ¡°But if you leave me, then you shall perish at their hands, and remain alone, without me, for eternity, and not necessarily where you hope to spend your afterlife, Cael.¡±


    An arctic zephyr gusted my veins. To the point I felt them still. My blood the Cumberland Sound in winter.  Did she know something I didn¡¯t? That was ridiculous. She could not see the future, right? But what if she was dead? Heaven without Ashley would not have been the same. Unless she was talking about Purgatory. She must have been in Purgatory, right? Certainly. That¡¯s where she was. Most likely. Not anywhere else. Not where ¡­ not in the ¡­ what did she mean by her words?


    An eternity without my love. ¡­ I hadn¡¯t given it that much thought until I heard her say the words. Even the thought of it deluged my eyes. Fire tears I could not force inside.


    ¡°Are you prepared for never seeing me again?¡±


    I could not think of the right words. My mind a haze I could not dispel. Jumbled words. Incoherent utterances. Semi-conscious ramblings. All came up short for how I felt. I thought I¡¯d have been ready. I thought after what had happened in VirtuaNet I¡¯d have been ready to answer that question. But I was not. Because I feared the answer. Still did. Thought me weak. That I did not want to be with her. Thought me strong. That I did not want to be with her.


    She may not have been the real Ashley, but she looked like the perfect clone. Except that she was no clone. And even if she were, she would not have been the same. Not to mention the ethical implications of dating your girlfriend¡¯s clone, of cloning overall, but I had fooled myself thinking the importance of that question paled in comparison to what was happening in my mind.


    But my sanity rested on what I answered. Because whether or not I had Gieves Syndrome rested on what I answered. But it coiled my veins, as if a spiked net had hooked itself to my organs, and constricted them all with a slashing embrace. Because I thought it selfish that I was thinking about Ashley, seeing her even, thinking about myself, when a virus threatened to doom the world, and the Harmonists to purge our home of religion and foreigners. My own life at risk.


    But then again, if I could not sort out my mind, I could not save everyone else. If I could not save myself, how could I have saved everyone else? Unless God wanted me to live through the pain, until I had the proper time to deal with the gravels, Gieves Syndrome, everything. Was that it?


    The Holy Spirit illuminated me.


    ¡°I am not prepared to never see you again, Ashley, but I will not go with you either,¡± I said. ¡°Even if the Naturals think me a traitor, even if the Enhanceds think me an inferior being, I cannot forsake them. That¡¯s not what my family would want. That¡¯s not what God would want.¡±


    She giggled and let go of my hands, but I could still feel her hands¡¯ softness. ¡°Do as you may, Cael,¡± she said. ¡°But I know you wish to be with me. I sense it deep within your heart and soul.¡± She then stepped back. ¡°Ponder upon my words.¡±


    ¡°Do not,¡± a voice said. Almyra¡¯s voice. She emerged in front of me. ¡°Your family is alive.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t trust her,¡± Ashley shot. ¡°You¡¯re just imagining her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m imagining both of you.¡±


    ¡°Would you rather trust the girl who betrayed you than the girl you love?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I ¡­¡± I winced. ¡°None of you are real.¡± I placed my hands on my head. Heart pounding strong. ¡°None of this is real. Nothing. I¡¯m not crazy.¡± I laughed, trying to keep the tears in my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy. I don¡¯t have Gieves ¡­ I¡¯m ¡­¡±


    Almyra clenched my hands. Soft. As if she were tangible. ¡°Live, Cael,¡± she pleaded. ¡°For your family.¡±


    Ashley hugged my back. ¡°Don¡¯t let that filthy Achroite sway you.¡± She then caressed my cheek and whispered into my ear, ¡°Your family is dead. So let¡¯s all be together in Heaven, my love.¡±


    But before I could even utter a sound, stillness engulfed us. Everything paralyzed. Not as in the Bridge. Not as in anything I had seen before. Blades of ice sliced my nerves. I was used to the motion of the real world, the darkness of the Bridge, but not the immobility of Cell 4.2. Guessed I needed movement to be at ease. Even my vocal chords did not react. My body, a statue trapped in a silence that was absolute. A tranquility that hacked my soul into icy shards that calmness shattered. Wanting to move, speak. But nothing worked. Only my breath. My heart. My blood flowing. And they grew louder and louder, as they never had before. Never had I been conscious of those things before. Sweat dropped from my head.


    And even the sound of sweat striking the floor exploded in my eardrums. Which led motion back into my brain, but not to those around me. Almyra and Ashley, still fragments of my insa ¡­ imagination. I would not succumb to Gieves Syndrome. My family was alive. Or perhaps that¡¯s what I wanted to believe. Perhaps, that¡¯s what Almyra meant. Hope. Na?ve hope that my family had survived a raw Eugenex blast. Was I delusional? Probably. But even that was better than losing all faith. I hoped. History did not take kindly to na?ve optimists.


    I paced around the soundproof cell but couldn¡¯t keep balance and tumbled. I stood up but collapsed again. I lay down. My head crashed against the floor. My breath pounded my ears. My blinking hammered my eardrums. The sound of everything, the sound of nothing shattered my ears. I couldn¡¯t even think anymore. And then the gravels began. But that wasn¡¯t thinking. That was obsessing. And there were no distractions, no sounds, nothing. Only the sounds of my own heart, blood, and sweat. And then the images of Ellie, Tim, my parents, the raw Eugenex blast, Wexford, everything, nothing.


    I tried to stand up but then decided to just lie there and close my eyes. I wanted to sleep, I really did, but the sounds of my heart kept me awake. I tried to pray, but the sounds, the images, the mosquitoes of the mind, which then turned into actual mosquitoes, that felt so real that I even developed a sting on one of my arms.


    And that was what zapped me back into reality, not that the images and the sounds and the mosquitoes had vanished, but that I knew they weren¡¯t real. I felt they weren¡¯t real. I could pass my hand right through Almyra¡¯s head. Right through Ashley¡¯s arm. It was just the room. I was not going insane. It was not Gieves Syndrome. It was not Gieves Syndrome. Said it so many times that I got sick of the phrase. But deep down, I guessed I thought that if you tell a lie so many times you¡¯ll eventually start believing it. I wanted to think it was just the silence of the cell, the eeriness of its stillness, but a part of me thought it was Gieves Syndrome. And no amount of convincing would make me think otherwise. Not even repeating a lie a thousand times. Perhaps prayer. I just hoped God answered immediately.


    At least with the perception of reality I could pray, despite everything, despite the mosquitoes biting me. And then I began thinking I was in the Bridge saving someone, if only to distract myself. Until they shut the cell¡¯s dim lights and everything stopped working. I began to keep track of time in my head. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Or six. Seven? Ten? My nerves stung me. My breath felt louder. My heart beat an explosion. The floor vanished. I thought I had died. This was nothing like the Bridge. Almyra vanished. Ashley disappeared. The cell went darker than the Bridge. But I could cope. I would cope. But then ice glaives speared my veins. Saw flames. Burns. Scars. Wails. I knew it was all fake. All an illusion. I prayed for happiness. Peace. But only anxiety swallowed me. Had I died? Why was I hovering? Was I an Enhanced? Did Eugenex writhe in my veins?


    I shook my head. I couldn¡¯t give them the satisfaction. They wouldn¡¯t break me. But the walls were shrinking. My skin itched. So much that blood seeped from my scratches. Lest I was imagining my blood. Was I even bleeding? It felt real. But Ashley had felt real. So had Almyra. Until they didn¡¯t. My lungs shut. Couldn¡¯t breathe. I coughed. Blood. Achroite blood. As if I were an Enhanced. Crystallized. My hands turned to iridescent shards of light red. My arms. Horror. My eyes. Everything blurred. A mass of red in my sight. I was alive. It was not happening. I thought of triumph. Joy. My face peeled off. Pain. Massive. Agony. Could not think. But I was alive. Nothing was happening. Nothing was real. Tears. I just lay down. Fell into the abyss of flames beneath the vanished floor. And hoped for the best. Prayed. God was with me. And the strangest sense of peace engulfed me. Because I was taking the leap, trusting God.


    And just after I opened my eyes, I was back in the real world. I could breathe normally. The sounds didn¡¯t explode in my ears. But before I could even raise my arms in victory, Ashley materialized in front of me again. But I knew exactly what to say, before she could even utter a sound.


    ¡°I won¡¯t listen to you, whatever you are,¡± I shot. ¡°The real Ashley wouldn¡¯t call the Achroites filthy. The real Ashley loved everyone. Treated everyone the same, regardless of their blood, regardless of their genetic status.¡±


    I knew I had done the right thing, but I still gazed at her one last time.


    She just sneered and embraced me. Felt alive, but I wasn¡¯t going to fall for that, even if my veins twisted and guts writhed. Those were lies, and I was going to believe that those were lies, even if the gravels told me otherwise, even if my heart wanted to be with her. Forever in eternity.


    Ashley kissed me. ¡°Good luck on your execution, Cael.¡± And just like she had appeared, she vanished.


    I guessed I had survived. I had succeeded. I had defeated Cell 4.2. Thank God. But it didn¡¯t feel like a victory. Felt hollow inside. That I let Ashley die again. That I didn¡¯t really love her. But I did love her. I loved her. I loved her. Right? I just sat on the floor, gazing at the ceiling. And decided to pray.


    Jesus, Brother, I don¡¯t understand what¡¯s going on, whether I¡¯m going insane, or whether I have Gieves Syndrome or not, but please help me conquer this trial. Strengthen my faith. Make it at least the size of a mustard seed. And then I added the part that sometimes I didn¡¯t want to say, or think about, but that I knew had to be said. Let Your Will be done. And then I began to pray the Rosary.


    Because regardless of Gieves Syndrome, I would escape my execution, escape Zee Gevangenis. Even if my family had not survived, though deep down I believed they had, I would bring justice to those the Harmonists massacred. I would stop the Harmonists and find the cure. I just prayed I did not lose my sanity in the process. I would not. I would not.


    Pointless goal if I died of course, which seemed likely, as three days later some guards opened Cell 4.2¡¯s door. The day of my execution had arrived. And I had no idea how to escape.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 26: Knight

    The officers escorting me to the execution room didn¡¯t even bother to inject me with the paralyzer as they knew any attempt on my part to escape would have been foolish. Didn¡¯t know how long it had been. First time I couldn¡¯t keep track of time. The press awaited me at the execution chamber, salivated over seeing someone die, over seeing a Natural die, over seeing me die. They lurked in the bloodless, sterile room that had led to the deaths of the nation¡¯s most notorious and violent criminals, and everyone who had dared to oppose Zielkkenhom and his regime, like the Knights of Malta, whom the government considered terrorists as the Harmonists, though not as damaging. Was as bright as an operating room, but reeked of the stench of the Enhanceds¡¯ artificial colognes. That made me even more nauseated than the fact that I needed to find a way to survive my execution. The press even loitered outside, underwater, in a pressurized cabin made of clear glass. I then glanced at the non-pressurized capsule that stood ahead of me. Execution by drowning, I knew what that meant. They were going to place me in that capsule and release it underwater. The capsule was going to shatter due to the pressure and I ¡­ my organs would dye the sea red.


    The guards surrounding me carried paralyzing syringes in their hands. I had read of its effects, but had never experienced it myself. Only the old version, but they said the old one was a summer waft compared to the new one. The soldiers and I marched to the glass capsule that would kill me. Something stung me. I flinched and glanced at my arm¡ªI held my breath¡ªthe syringe.


    ¡°In case you were planning to escape,¡± the guard said, making sure the reporters filmed his sneer as he injected me. ¡°That shall hold you up in the capsule.¡± I guessed paralyzing someone made gripping television nowadays.


    I felt it right away. Your body shut down. Your organs ceased to function. Your blood flow halted. Your breathing stopped. I couldn¡¯t walk, gaze, or even blink. My eyes ached as if you opened them in the Dead Sea. But nothing rivaled the feeling of choking, of drowning on land. I wanted to breathe, to gasp, to say something, anything, but my body wouldn¡¯t breathe. All I heard were the soldiers¡¯ footsteps. And we still hadn¡¯t made it into the capsule.


    But that wasn¡¯t the worse of it, the wait was. Those footsteps seemed forever. I wanted to get in the capsule and get it over, but how could I die not knowing whether I had fulfilled God¡¯s will for me in this world? But suffering that immobilization ¡­ not dying, dying ¡­ both tormented me. Felt even longer than the immobilization in Cell 4.2 At least, back then, you knew it was all in your mind. You knew that with some time, you¡¯d be able to move again. But with the paralyzer, everyone saw you suffer in real time. Not through a security camera, but with their own eyes. And not just the guards, but the entire nation through the reporters¡¯ live feed. All I wanted was for the march of death to end.


    The footsteps droned in my ears. Still not at the capsule? All I caught a glimpse of was a blurry window¡ªthe capsule. It opened and the officer placed me inside. The window shut. Three or four seconds later, a human-like figure stood in the center of the room and muttered something I couldn¡¯t understand, nor wanted to. Someone entered and strode to a panel.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Thank God. The paralyzer¡¯s effects had worn off. I smiled and blinked and breathed as if I never had before. But my excitement was short lived. My executioner stood in front of the eject button, in front of the button that was going to propel me to the long dive. I guess that¡¯s why they also called Zee Gevangenis the Diver¡¯s Haven, because you stayed underwater forever.


    I closed my eyes and braced myself for the immersion. Pounded on the glass, but I just got bloody fingers and splintered knuckles. Zielkithe was still the strongest element known to man. Goethite infused with Achroite Eugenex. The executioner raised his hand and moved it at what seemed a sloth¡¯s pace. My heart pounded. His hand rested less than a sixth of a second away. I clenched my fist, closed my eyes, made an act of contrition, and took a deep breath. And then the lights went out. My executioner pressed the button but nothing happened. That was my chance. I fingered the capsule¡ªnothing. I slammed my arm against the window¡ªnothing. I rammed it again and again¡ªnothing. But I wasn¡¯t going to die like that, not when God had given me the opportunity to escape. There had to be a way out.


    The lights went back on, and a prisoner dashed in, shot the executioner, and smashed a device against the floor. A blinding smokescreen emerged. A barrage of bullets exploded inside. I banged the window again to no avail, my shoulder about to dislocate, but seconds later it opened. I stepped outside.


    ¡°This way!¡±


    ¡°This way!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him go!¡±


    ¡°Isegwu vu?i tieg?i,¡± someone said. ¡°Ejja go dan il-mod.¡±


    Follow my voice. Let¡¯s go this way, the voice said in Maltese language. Joy pounded me. A Knight of Malta. They used to speak Italian as an official language, but decided to change it to Maltese once their enemies started to learn Italian. I remebered what Freedom¡¯s Voice had said about being the leader of the Knights of Malta, but I knew he was lying. I could trust the Knights. I would always trust the Knights. I guessed there was always the possibility that it could be a soldier in disguise, but I¡¯d take my chances. I could escape from a soldier or guard. I could not escape from a zielkithe capsule. I followed the Maltese voice and bolted through the room until the Knight and I emerged at a passageway outside. I had to stop to rest, but the Knight just pushed me ahead.


    ¡°I did not rescue you to baby-sit you,¡± he said.


    We dashed along the corridor, dodging guards, wardens, and prisoners along the way. Earsplitting sirens resonated throughout Zee Gevangenis.


    ¡°Where are we going? Why are you helping me?¡±


    ¡°Questions later.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know if he was telling the truth or not, and had phrased his answer in a way that didn¡¯t let me see whether he was a Knight or someone passing of as one, but he was my best shot at escaping. I was just going to have to be alert for anything suspicious. Besides, dying from a gunshot was better ¡­ less bad than perishing from underwater pressure. We bolted along the labyrinth-like passages until the Knight stopped and gazed around, but all I noticed was four walls.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Dove ¨¨? Dovrebbe avere qualcosa qui ¡­ Qui ¨¨.¡±


    He tapped the northwestern portion of the wall and stepped back. The floor ahead of him descended and a staircase emerged. We dashed along. A hangar awaited us. Dozens of submarines rested there.


    The Knight glanced at the look on my face and said, ¡°Why surprised? This is Zee Gevangenis, how do you think people get here, teleporting?¡±


    We skulked into an open submarine and marched to the control room, where a pilot awaited us, or rather, didn¡¯t await us.


    ¡°Gamins?¡± He sneered and drew out his firearm.


    The Knight drew out his as well. ¡°Take this submarine to the surface now.¡±


    ¡°You possess not the valor¡ª¡±


    ¡°Non ho tempo per questo.¡± The Knight fired at the pilot, who tumbled, and then glanced at the ceiling. ¡°Thank God for autopilot.¡± He then snatched the pilot¡¯s body but the pilot drew out his gun.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± I yelled.


    The Knight just snatched the pilot¡¯s wrist and thrust his arm away. And the pilot¡¯s face seemed as if he had seen ¡­ well, what he just had seen, a Natural fighting man to man with an Enhanced. Or was the Knight an Enhanced? An ice blast chilled my veins. Was I trekking around with an Enhanced? Or an EF soldier? And I thought about whether helping him or not, but just a second later a bullet grazed my arm and I just sprinted ahead and kneed the pilot¡¯s lower back, but pain began shooting from my knee and I collapsed.


    The Knight then tackled the pilot but he stood still. The Knight¡¯s face was as stern as always and he even began to look for something in his pocket. And then I froze. The sound of footsteps echoed in my ears. And I wanted to go stop those soldiers, I even took a few steps ahead, but I took a glance at the Knight wrestling the pilot, at the pilot about to beat the Knight, and I had to do something about it. So I sprinted towards them and began to wrestle the gun from the pilot¡¯s grasp, but he just struck my thorax and thrust me against a wall.


    And then the Knight began to laugh. And that just made my blood boil. I kind of wanted to beat the Knight more than the soldier. But that was part of his plan I guessed. The pilot got distracted with the Knight¡¯s laugh, so he just snatched the gun from the pilot¡¯s hand and shot his shoulder, but it was as if the pilot felt no pain. His face had the same hollow expression every Enhanced had ¡­ most Enhanceds had. And then I heard other soldiers irrupting into the submarine, and shutting down the lights. Just perfect.


    Gunshots echoed nearby. I darted to some cabinets and rummaged through them but found nothing, not even flashlights. A second later a bullet struck one of the cabinets and the blow emitted a flash for one second. That was it. I stood by the panel. ¡°Don¡¯t forget me,¡± I told one of the shooters.


    ¡°I shan¡¯t.¡± He aimed and fired at me.


    I dodged it, but I couldn¡¯t see where the autopilot was. And a second later the Knight bumped into me and fired. He almost shot me, but it worked out for the best. The gunshot¡¯s light was all he needed. The Knight placed the pilot¡¯s fingerprints and retina on the scanner. And the autopilot started and the lights came back on. The Knight then smashed his gun onto the pilot¡¯s head and he plummeted to the floor, blood seeping from his shoulder and head.


    I then saw a shooter zeroing in at me and ready to fire, but I sidestepped and the bullet struck a cabinet. But before he could even aim again, the Knight hurled the pilot¡¯s body at him and knocked him down. I just laughed at the face the soldier made when he saw the pilot¡¯s body barreling towards him, when he saw that a Natural, a Knight of Malta no less, had been able to do that. God¡¯s adrenaline and power always surpassed Eugenex. The Knight then shot at the remaining officer but nothing happened. He had run out of darts, so he hurled his firearm at the shooter, but he dodged it and sneered with the all too common hollow sneer of the Enhanceds.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± he said.


    But his taunts were short-lived. The Knight then pierced his arm with a gladius and his body crashed into the floor.


    Who was this guy? That he just happened to carry around short swords? Only one group I knew carried around swords. It was for real. But before I could even ask him something, he must have seen the look on my face for he said, ¡°I am Girgor Camilleri, proud and valiant member of the Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem of Rhodes and of Malta.¡± We shook hands.


    The Knights of Malta. I knew it.


    A Natural. Four seconds taller than me. Stalwart shoulders and a rectangular jaw like any Enhanced, but naturally obtained, and his eyes did not blaze wrath, or struck fear. Girgor Camilleri looked like a father. Better for him I guessed. Because he could easily fool his enemies. Into thinking he wasn¡¯t a threat. Into thinking he¡¯d be a pushover. But no pushover could stab an Enhanced with such dexterity. As the Knights were strong. Brave. Protectors of the innocent, who¡¯d give their lives for the weak. And trust God above all.


    Though Girgor must have been at least fifty, he looked no older than thirty, as not a single gray streak hid in his medium length jet black hair. And only a handful of wrinkles scratched his face. The Mediterranean diet I guessed. Or better yet, the helping others diet. Though calluses did mantle his hands. Felt like a mountain ledge. But Girgor Camilleri did not mind. Must have been proud of them, I guessed. As I was of my bridging scars. I wished I could say the same for the gravel ones.


    Even though I trusted him, I didn¡¯t want to be that na?ve. So I asked him, coldly, ¡°Why did you rescue me?¡± I clenched my fists. ¡°Do you seek revenge for what I¡¯m alleged to have done? Or is it just because you¡¯re a Knight?¡±


    ¡°You look a lot like my son,¡± Girgor muttered. He glanced down for a second. His eyes clouded by surging tears. ¡°He would have been about your age by now.¡± But he just shook his head and did not cry.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Do not be,¡± Girgor said. ¡°It was not your fault.¡± His voice as tides rising, solemn, drops in the sand, but with a power that you knew could kill you if you stood too close, almost as if he was trying to convince himself as much as me. So it was a good thing he worked with the Knights. He worked with the Knights, right? He had the standard-issue gladius. But then it clouted me. Was he a Harmonist guised as a Knight, who had stolen the gladius during the assault at Pearfan?g? He did not seem to lie, but who had exactly saved my life? But before I could even ask him anything, Girgor input the coordinates for the Beorg?g Terminal in the submarine¡¯s navigation system. The entrance door shut and the submarine powered up. Started its ascent. Wessex stood only a bridge away.


    But then a tremor shook the submarine. I clutched a table to remain afoot. Nowhere to run. And without diving suits. And Girgor could not stab everyone.


    Wessex was not just a bridge away.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 27: The Deep

    Water began flowing into the control room and I spotted another submarine. I thought I was going to freeze, but the Holy Spirit kept the fire within me. And with those temperatures, I certainly needed it. I thought about firing a torpedo at them, I even stepped to the control panel, but God wanted me to survive and bring justice to those whom Freedom¡¯s Voice had slaughtered, not to perish in a false display of valor.


    Girgor and I rummaged around but no diving gear lay nearby, and the few suits and gear I found seemed made for Goliath. And I could spot the other submarines circling us, ready to fire, but I was going to remain calm. There had to be a diving suit somewhere, and I was going to find it.


    I spotted the torpedo heading right at us as if it were in slow motion. I wanted to hold on to something, but I felt as if they had injected me with a paralyzer. And the second the torpedo hit, the tremor knocked me down and I crashed into a table. But just then I heard something fall and roll over. And then a translucent ochre liquid began to fall right at me. I could picture it in my mind¡ªthe Eugenex entering my body.


    So I just rolled over fast. And the Eugenex landed on the floor, making contact with my skin, with my hand, with my fingers. Was the first time I had ever felt Eugenex, that venom, that bane that felt like gunge, like filth. But I would have none of that. I stood up and cleansed the Eugenex off my fingers with water, hoping that whatever must have seeped through my skin was negligible, and then stepped into a hallway.


    Smart devices and offices supplies crashed into the floor as I scavenged the rooms and tossed them around. The arctic waters of the North Atlantic had swallowed my knees at that point, but I felt no pain. And then I glanced at the submarines again, ready to fire, but I wasn¡¯t going to die there.


    Furniture began to capsize. The submarine had begun to capsize. Gunshots and torpedoes echoed nearby, all of them piercing the submarine¡¯s hull. I could even see it in faces of the incoming soldiers, diving towards us. They wanted to kill me, even if they had to die because of it, even if the submarine had to plummet to the bottom of the ocean to do so. I wanted to fight them, but my life was more important than the fight, so I just dashed through the remaining rooms but found nothing.


    Water already spiked my waist, as bursts of ice blasting through my nerves. Only one room remained. The diving suits had to be there, something had to be there. I swam there, where a wardrobe awaited me. I would not drown. I would not perish. I was going to survive. If I could open the wardrobe, that was. I hauled its handle, rammed its doors, knocked it down even, but it was as locked as any biometric door would have been.


    I was doing everything within me not to panic. Liquid ice blades already frosted my chest, but I wasn¡¯t even thinking on the spikes of the freezing water, I just wanted to survive. I took a deep breath and dove into the currents that threatened to drown me, fingering every inch of the floor.


    And then I felt something, a switchblade, but just when I seized it, the submarine crashed into a cliff and the switchblade slid from my grasp. And I heard soldiers and things falling and footsteps practically right next to me. I just swam upwards but banged my head with the ceiling. Water already filled the submarine. I didn¡¯t want to open my eyes, I knew what that meant, but I¡¯d have to.


    I did. And it was like having millions of needles lacerate your eyes, but there were no soldiers, and no switchblade. But I wasn¡¯t going to surrender. Water swelled my lungs, but I wasn¡¯t going to breathe. My heart beat so loudly that I thought it was going to rip my chest, but I wasn¡¯t going to breathe. I patted the floor, the walls, the windows, everything, but the vortexes around me had snatched the switchblade, as if the Enhanceds could even control nature. And perhaps they could, but I didn¡¯t think the soldiers chasing me capable of that. They were not specialized Fenglas or Achroites.


    And then I heard some soldiers yelling, and guns firing, and bullets thudding all over. I just swam up, down, left, right, in every possible direction, but my lungs wouldn¡¯t resist for long. I wanted to breathe. I had never wanted to breathe more than I did at the time, not even with the paralyzer at Zee Gevangenis. With the paralyzer, you were still, physically unable to breathe. So even if I wanted to breathe, which I definitely did, I couldn¡¯t. In the submarine, I had to dodge bullets and force myself not to breathe, even though every second the fact that I could breathe irrupted in my mind, even though every second the picture of me breathing burst into my mind. But breathing meant certain death. Water would fill up my lungs and I¡¯d have died by drowning. But now because of my weakness.


    And the worst part was that sooner or later my body was going to make me breathe. And when that happened, it was goodbye. But then it clouted me. I dove around, and tapped everything I could until I tapped the wardrobe. The plan had to work. I only had ten seconds before I breathed. Nine. Eight. Seven. And then the bullets slowed down until falling to the floor because of the water¡¯s resistive force.


    I placed myself in front of the wardrobe and waited for the soldiers to come at me. And just a fraction of a second before they clouted me, I swam away. One of them did punch my thorax with the strength of a high-speed truck, but I heard the wardrobe shattering, so I didn¡¯t mind the punch. I only had four seconds remaining. My lungs wanted to burst at that point, but I wasn¡¯t going to breathe, not until my reflexes made me.


    I swam towards the wardrobe. Three seconds I had left. I fingered what was around it and found a couple of oxygen tanks and an armor suit, those with artificial gills, masks, able to withstand the pressure of the midnight and abyss zones, and temperature-resistant technology. Two seconds left. One second left. I just snatched the mask, put it on, and shut it. And I opened my eyes. And I breathed. I breathed, as I never had before, but not for long.


    A soldier was about to rip the mask off me but I swam in the opposite direction and left the room, but not the submarine. I had to find Girgor, but he was nowhere to be found. I put on the rest of the armor suit and kept looking for him, but if I didn¡¯t find him soon, I would have to leave without him, even if it made my stomach churn. And after three hundred seconds, I did. I had to. It would have been foolish for both of us to die. And perhaps he was alive, somewhere safe. That was it. He was alive. Somewhere. Or at least, that¡¯s what I told myself to assuage my conscience. On my mind, Girgor was safe, somewhere. So I had to get to safety as well. He was the real deal. He would not betray me. Now I knew.


    I swam above but someone hauled my neck down and I almost lost conscience. But for a second there, I couldn¡¯t help but notice how peaceful the ocean looked, as if nothing was going on, nothing except me being choked to death. But I wasn¡¯t going to die there, not like that, not death by drowning.


    I elbowed the attacker and he let go. But then I saw him staring, glaring at my artificial gills, at my oxygen tanks. And immediately the gravels pummeled my brain. I pictured myself drowning, being eaten by fish, sharks, collapsing into the bottom of the ocean, but I hadn¡¯t survived Zee Gevangenis just to let the mosquitoes of the mind kill me. They only brought despair and death, and sometimes not just the earthly one.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    So I swam further ahead, thinking about the surface, focusing on surviving, but my mind was so fixated on staying alive, that I forgot all about the attacker, who then snatched off one of my oxygen tanks. I thought my rage would explode at him, but I got frustrated with myself. If I hadn¡¯t been so obsessed on heading to the surface, if I had just turned one moment, if I had just glanced back one second, then ¡­ but I just offered it to God. It was pointless to get mad at yourself. What I had to do was take action and deal with the consequences, even if it had been my fault.


    And that first step was glancing back, and thank God I did, for the officer was about to bash my head with the oxygen tank he had snatched. I missed it by one second. I laughed, but that laugh vanished when he yanked off my artificial gills. I thought about fighting him for them, but I had to survive. And I was going to survive, with or without gills and oxygen. I kicked his thorax and swam away with the officer in pursuit.


    But before I could even take a stroke, a nightmarish bioluminescent squid latched on to my torso and began to slice my suit and visor with its tentacles. Stronger and sharper than they seemed. I thought being a bridger would have readied me for everything, but antiviruses paled in comparison to that squid, and water¡¯s density made me slower than the void space of the Bridge. Guessed that was because I was used to avoiding danger. That was the main rule of self-defense. Always avoid conflict. So apart from that firewall, antivirus had only caught me twice. But now I found out I was rusty in actual combat that wasn¡¯t on land.


    I was not used to fighting beasts.


    The squid¡¯s beaks, sharp enough to slice Kevlar, attempted to puncture my diving suit. I kicked and punched its head, and body, but it just tightened its grasp on my torso. And tried to pierce my remaining oxygen tank. Just the tiniest cut, just a minuscule tear on the tank, on my visor, on my diving suit, and the pressure would have crushed me. I panicked. First time. I rarely panicked in the Bridge. But I wasn¡¯t in the Bridge. This felt more dangerous, even though I guessed the danger was greater in the Bridge. But it was the lack of control that lacerated me, though not as much as the squid¡¯s beaks. In the Bridge, I knew what to do.


    Underwater I didn¡¯t.


    I managed to socket the squid¡¯s eye and it let go, but before I could even turn, it clutched my legs and began to haul me down, deep into the midnight zone. Perhaps even deeper than Zee Gevangenis. And when that happened, not even an intact diving suit would resist the pressure. But I couldn¡¯t let panic get the best of me. I just elbowed the squid¡¯s eyes and hammered its head as if I wanted to crush it with my own hands. Blood seeped. The squid¡¯s, thank God. It retreated but then rammed into my visor, which cracked, but didn¡¯t shatter. And at that moment, not thinking, not reasoning, I just grabbed my oxygen tank and clouted one of the squid¡¯s eyes with it. It screamed a ghoulish shriek, but it didn¡¯t let go. It wasn¡¯t human. I could reason with a human. I could not reason with a hellish beast. So I just smashed its head again and again with my oxygen tank until it stopped trying to puncture my diving suit, now tainted by a trail of its blood.


    I kicked its tentacles until I escaped, and the squid¡¯s corpse plummeted deep into the abyss of the ocean, leaving Zee Gevangenis as nothing but a dot in its trail. I knew sadness was supposed to pulse through my veins, but it didn¡¯t. That thing had tried to kill me. Sneaked upon me and treated me like prey. Thought it could kill me. Like the Harmonists. They had sneaked past me, past everyone that raw Eugenex blast decimated, but they would not win. I would bring those they had massacred to justice. Even if I had to slay each and every single one of the Limbs because they fought me.


    Justice would prevail. The lives of the innocent clamored for it. And the unjust would fall, Enhanced or Natural; government or terrorist.


    The midnight zone of the North Atlantic Ocean felt like another planet, even more so than the Bridge. An array of translucent jellyfish and slimy salamander-like fish swam in front of me. Their swimming, the only sound that helped me not surrender. Completely isolated, unaware of everything around them, like the trapped data packets of the Bridge. But what saddened me a tad was that no plants shrouded the slopes of the zone. I knew no plants could survive without sunlight, in total darkness, but it still felt like death, swimming for thirty minutes and not spotting a single plant. Just the occasional lantern fish. And yet, this sense of peace engulfed me, despite the ice lances that punctured every pore of my skin. I felt more comfortable than in the Bridge, even more so now that the tranquility had made my wrath at the squid attack subside.


    I guessed I couldn¡¯t stay mad at it. Was just an animal acting on instinct. Feeding itself. I thought if sometimes it was better if we humans didn¡¯t have free will, and obeyed God like the angels did. Would make things so much more peaceful, better. Free from evil. But then again, if God in His infinite wisdom had granted us free will, it was for us to choose to love Him. But still, sometimes I thought I¡¯d rather be like those anemones around me, unaware of everything, just minding myself. All of us, free from the consequences of our actions. But that was selfish. And weak. The tempter would not win.


    I just kept swimming for an hour and twelve minutes until sunlight began to seep through my eyes. Must have arrived to the border between the twilight and sunlight zones of the ocean, but my legs swelled. My arms ached. And I had depleted my sole oxygen tank. Hypothermia had begun to affect me, but I would continue. Just one minute. That was all I needed.


    All the words I could think about were don¡¯t breathe, don¡¯t breathe. Don¡¯t think about your lungs. Don¡¯t think about drowning. Don¡¯t. Ironically, that made me think even more about drowning and the water in my lungs, but that was all I could think of, so I just powered ahead, with the images of me splattered on the ocean floor partying in my brain. Just ten seconds. Just a little bit more. And there it was¡ªthe surface. My head lay above water. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, but someone or something hauled me down. But it could have been a triton or mermaid for all I cared at that moment. I just kicked it until it let go. I swam back above and took a deep breath. Thrice.


    Land awaited me at least ten minutes away. I swam ahead, not thinking on the pain and hypothermia. I prayed no one hauled me back down again. And thankfully nothing did. I marshaled ahead and arrived at the shore. Dirt mantled by snow spiked my skull, though not as much as the arctic zephyrs that speared my soaked body. Rocks shrouded by sleet jagged my skin, though not as much as the gravels my mind hurled at me. Mountains veiled in iridescent ice and fjords drowned in pristine water welcomed me. So pristine that I even took a sip. But its salty taste jolted me back into the real world. I rested on a shore by the sea, not a lake.


    It felt like sleeping on the Shannon Callows fields in the midst of a scorching winter. Which never scorched me, whatever the temperature was. I felt back at home. At last, I was able to just lie down and gaze at the sky in that deluged vale, even if only for one minute. A minute that a part of me wanted to last forever, but that I knew had to end. Wanted it to end. To bring justice for the innocent massacred. Find the cure. Save our country.


    If I returned alive, I could inspire the Naturals, tell them the video was edited, that I had not betrayed them. I could help avert a civil war, where most Naturals would have ended up as willing fodder for the Harmonists, and victims for the government. And most important, I could rekindle the faith on those whose faith had wavered, and restore it on those whose faith had withered. With God¡¯s light.


    I had trekked through the depths. And survived.


    I had trudged through water and fire. And survived.


    I had returned. To save our country. To save our world.


    Freedom¡¯s Voice might have been the light that shouldered the dreams of our nation, the hope that would lead us to freedom, but now, he was the void that exposed the iniquity in our people, the calamity that extinguished the innocence in our lands, the ruin that annihilated everything, everyone I cared about. On his lust for power.


    He would not rule. I would bring Freedom¡¯s Voice to justice. Even if it meant becoming the nightmare that wrecked our dreams.


    <hr>


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    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 28: Turbot Shore

    The shore¡¯s scent of turbot reminded me of Wexford, of how I used to fish with my dad, the one time I did, and caught this massive turbot on my first try. Odd fish that my dad did not sell with the rest of the catch, like a tuna that a steamroller flattened, like sand, but it tasted good. And we did not have to buy food that day. That was the day before the wails. Before not even the waters of the deluge that followed could douse the fires that annihilated the city. Because most people¡¯s souls burned, when they forgot what they had been through, what Wexford had been through, and surrendered to Eudora. But then again, if we had not escaped, if we had looked back at the land we fled, would we have done the same?


    I thought of staying there, on the ground, gazing at a past that would not return, not unless I made it so, but ice fists pounded my stomach, my lungs, my veins to the point I felt ice shards freeze my nostrils when I inhaled spiked oxygen, and glacier chunks congeal my throat when I exhaled visible air. Ironic. That the government paid millions of dollars for fresh air for the people in the cities, when in the northern provinces you could breathe pure air for free.


    Based on Zee Gevangenis¡¯ location, I had to be somewhere in Baffin, Nunavut, in the USN¡¯s side of the northern provinces. I thought of Girgor, of waiting for him. But for how long? What if soldiers arrived while I waited? I could not die because of him. But he had saved my life. My mind squirmed my soul at the thought of forsaking him. And the ice spikes paled in comparison to the viciousness of the thoughts that pummeled my chest, to the point I felt them thawed, only for an anvil to smash them. Ungrateful bastard. Selfish bollix. He risked his life to save you. Yet, you do not risk yours for him. You are an unfaithful Christian.


    But Ellie¡¯s memory dispelled them. Because I could not wait for him. Because my family was waiting for me. And even if they weren¡¯t, justice for the dead awaited me. And Girgor would not have wanted me to perish. If he had wagered his life for me, it must have been because he wanted me alive, right?


    I thought about footslogging, but I felt gravity haul my feet to the fjords¡¯ core. But the Holy Spirit granted me the strength to move. I lifted my foot and stepped ahead. I saw myself look back. But I knew I had to continue, for everyone¡¯s sake, so I lifted my other foot and continued. Girgor would return soon. It just coiled my veins, squirmed my organs. That he would wait for me. And I would not wait for him.


    I trudged along, but not even the strength of Ellie and my parent¡¯s memory could scatter the thoughts, like the shoals in the midst of the ocean. Where they would not hurt me. Not even the hunger that gnawed at my stomach and the thirst that clawed at my throat could distract me from the thoughts. But the cold did. Everything paled in comparison to the ice that corroded my organs. And though it seemed insane, I could tolerate the heat of the Bridge, but not the cold of the north.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    And I understood why people caved to Eugenex. Why people surrendered to Eudora. Because it soothed their pain, physical, emotional; and returned their hope. The very hope Zielkkenhom and Eudora had chased away. Though I guessed Zielkkenhom did not make Yellowstone erupt, but he could have set off the first pandemic. But then again, the first pandemic began in the EF. And I was not so sure Zielkkenhom was responsible. But he was responsible of what followed, of everything that ensued.


    I felt sorry for them, the people, not Zielkkenhom and Eudora, and I would pray for them, I did, though not with the consistency God must have wanted. But I could not justify them. I could not justify their actions. Just as I could not justify my surrendering, my capitulation to sin and death, to Eugenex. I would live until the thirst dried me, or until the soldiers shot me, but not until I ran out of Eugenex. Because the moment Eugenex would have entered my body, would be the moment I¡¯d die. And I would not die that death.


    The more I trudged along the ice-capped shore, the more I smelled turbot. To the point I thought I was imagining it. To the point I thought I had returned to Wexford harbor, to the fish market, back with my family. But I could not let my memories consume me. A lighter side of Gieves Syndrome. But equally lethal. Because either way, insanity by happy memories, or insanity by sad apparitions, you would die. But I did not have Gieves Syndrome. I knew so. Not because of some inner revelation or inner strength, sadly, but because I saw light posts on the horizon.


    Joy thawed my body. That¡¯s why I smelled turbot. Not because I was insane. But because a fishery stood nearby. A town. A whole town. I raced toward it and the second I set foot on it felt like when my family and I first reached Wessex. Except that no skyscrapers stood. Two stories high max. Not even cement streets. Mix of old wooden houses and new concrete structures. Picturesque. Shrouded in snow. Minuscule. But it still bustled more than the Rim. Where no light posts stood. Only ash and soot. And radiation.


    Everything looked as if ice had frozen the town in eternal peace, to the point I did not feel ice spikes sleet my veins, but snow blasts refresh me. Or my brain was trying to protect me from the cold, I guessed. But the gravels did not grant me even five seconds of peace, as gravity blasted my heart when I spotted the memorial to those who had died in the war between the US and the EF. And it clouted me. Where I trudged.


    Pangnirtung.


    <hr>


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 Chapter 29: Pangnirtung, Hamlet of Eternal Winter

    No segregation seemed apparent in Pangnirtung. Not because Zielkkenhom had not tried, though. But because it was basically a town of Impures. Where only a handful of Naturals lived to clean the streets. All corralled uptown, away from the airport, but not so crammed as in the cities. But the same propaganda flyers and posters that littered the streets of the Impures back in Wessex mantled the homes and roads of Pangnirtung. It coiled my nerves. Because not even the far hamlets of the Arctic could flee Zielkkenhom¡¯s clout.


    The EF had used an island-hopping strategy during the war. And showered death to the seized islands of Baffin, Southampton, and Victoria. While it rained apocalypse in the Aleutians. But the locals resisted. Survived. Through snow and fire. Not a single Nunavummiuq perished. They did not lose their hope, the warmth that guided them through the polar night and the subzero temperatures. Though I did not know if only because the EF thought them not valuable enough to be killed. Or because the ice had strengthened them.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to pay for what they did to you, Cerise,¡± I heard someone mutter, in tears. ¡°I¡¯m going to¡ª¡± He leaned on the memorial and fisted it. Blasted my eardrums. Not because of his strength. But because of his eyes. Tsunamis that would spare no one. He had lost hope.


    And people without hope were capable of anything.


    I sprinted toward him, before he could not return, but someone bound my arms. A soldier? I would not die. I didn¡¯t even look. If I did, they¡¯d seem human. And I wouldn¡¯t have defended myself properly. I stomped his feet as if I wanted to fissure the ground and elbowed him as if I wanted every rib of his to shatter. But he just hurled me to the back of a house. One whose triangular roof and sea proximity reminded me of my home in Wexford. And I was ready to stand, but gravity blasted my thorax when I saw who had thrust me aside.


    Girgor.


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not the welcome I expected from the ungrateful bastard whose life I saved.¡±


    ¡°Did you save me because it was the right thing, or because you wanted an Earthly reward?¡± And then I remembered what he said about his son. Gravity compressed my chest.


    ¡°Soldiers, bambino.¡±


    I peered ahead and saw them. How did I miss them before? Gieves Syndrome? The gravels? Something else?


    ¡°What are you going to pay, huh, sewer rat?¡± The soldiers punched the man by the memorial.


    And were about to kill him.


    But then I heard the second soldier tell the other one, ¡°Stay here. Do not let him move. The stench of Naturals pervades, more so than usual.¡±


    Did Eugenex enhance your sense of smell that much? And I pictured him shooting at us, killing us, but he did not step toward us. But before I could even inhale, he turned and targeted his rifle at us, but we skulked to another side of the house just before he spotted us. Or at least I hoped he hadn¡¯t. But then I saw the sneer on the soldier¡¯s face, that Enhanced sneer that made me want to kill them, and it didn¡¯t help that the other soldier pounded the devastated man.


    ¡°Give me my daughter back!¡± the man hollered. More dead than alive by now. ¡°She won¡¯t be a¡ª¡±


    The first soldier bludgeoned him. And it took the Holy Spirit within me to stay put.


    And then the second soldier stepped further towards us, took aim, placed his finger on the trigger, and fired. I glanced at the smile in his face, as if he were happy to kill someone, as if he had the right to take our lives, as if we were vermin to be squashed. And to him, we were definitely worse than vermin. At first my blood boiled, but then the Holy Spirit warmed me. I just had to pray for him. I just had to pray for them, that they found Our Lord.


    And just then the bullet grazed my arm. Blood began dripping from it, but I remained silent. I thought that was going to be the end of it, but then the Esne soldier advanced toward us, just salivating to kill us, itching to use his abilities, because he couldn¡¯t cause wanton destruction in an Impure place of residence. He would immediately recognize Girgor and I. Ice blasts sleeted through my veins. Only had five seconds.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    But just before he found us, the first soldier called him and he returned. I thought I was going to take a deep breath, but that soldier just began bludgeoning the devastated man.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell everyone!¡± the man hollered.


    They pounded him once. Twice. A few locals sauntered past the scene, and some didn¡¯t even glance, as if the snow they trudged on was more valuable than a human life, as if countless Naturals had been pummeled right before their eyes. Flame blades seared my veins but the ice froze them when I saw a mom and daughter stare at the man being pummeled, eyes full of hurt. The mom in front of her daughter, protecting her. Both of them, making a gesture of disapproval at the soldiers. The locals did care. But fear froze them. They could withstand the ice. They could endure the snow. They could stomach the polar night. But fear trailed them, and they did not seem to mind. The fear that they¡¯d be next if they stepped in. The fear that froze their warmth. But that I could understand. Not all soldiers were like Tygo.


    ¡°I saw you ship them to Nanisivik,¡± the beaten man hollered.


    Thrice. Four times. Red tainted the snow, and the man writhed in a sea of his own blood. The mom and daughter now stepped away. Their eyes about to tear up. Guessed because they could do nothing. Because no one could do anything against Esneas there. There were no bridgers to protect them, no districts to keep them safe. And no Tygo to keep his comrades in check. To the rest of the country, Pangnirtung was just a small town veiled by perennial ice, a rural hamlet whose inhabitants did not exist.


    I was about to go help the bloodied man, but a local spotted me. Inuit-looking. Tanned-skinned. I guessed a couple of years older than Girgor, as he did not seem to march with discomfort, but more tired out, as if he was just waiting for death to relieve him, for a liberation that would never come. Not until he had suffered enough.


    I leaped back to the wall of the house, hoping, praying nothing happened, but I was flexing my knees, and reading my fists. If only I had my pocketknife. The local had seen the traitor. And a Knight. Two terrorists. The law said he had to alert the soldiers of our presence. Lest he willed to perish. Anyone would have done so. I saw it on my mind. But I would not die. Not without a fight. I peeked at the soldiers one last time, hoping to catch a weakness. And the polar night evaporated the snow that drowned my veins, and the water that froze my skin. The local who had seen me just strolled by. As if Girgor and I did not exist. As if we were mere snow.


    Warm fear. Not frozen as I thought. His way of resistance. The Baffin way. He needed it. They needed it. So they¡¯d survive. And would not suffer a fate worse than dying. I couldn¡¯t be any different. I may have not lived through snow and ice, but I had lived through water and fire, not through cowardice and passiveness. I just stood up and stepped ahead, but someone hauled me back and I crashed into the snow.


    ¡°What is the problem with you?¡± Girgor said. ¡°Do you want them to kill us?¡± He was completely dry. Must have taken an armor suit from one of the soldiers back at Zee Gevangenis.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to kill him,¡± I said. ¡°How can you ¡­ how can we ¡­ how can I let someone die?¡±


    ¡°We are not letting anyone die,¡± he said. ¡°We are being prudent and sagacious, and sometimes that means taking a less than perfect decision.¡±


    My veins twisted. My stomach churned. I thought about staying still. I thought about protecting our lives, but I just took a glance at the soldiers again.


    The bloodied man lay dead on the snow.


    ¡°Leave his body,¡± the first soldier said. ¡°So no one dares to speak.¡±


    ¡°Now to find the Naturals I smelled.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± the other one said. ¡°You know Lt. Nabritt¡¯s orders. Oughtta head to the base.¡±


    The second soldier sighed, though he still peeked at our direction one last time. ¡°Fine.¡±


    They marched to the airport and blasted off north. I would follow them. Despite Girgor¡¯s complaints. But before I could even step ahead, Girgor said, ¡°You do that and we die.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you, Girgor?¡± Took the Holy Spirit within me not to jab him. ¡°You¡¯re a Knight of Malta. Your oath is to help those in need. And there are people in need right ahead of you and you don¡¯t want to help them because we might die,¡± I said. ¡°I know what happened to you. You didn¡¯t get arrested on purpose. Your brigade ditched you for not fulfilling the oath of the Knights.¡± I did not feel the ice anymore. Not that much. ¡°They sent who knows how many to a base in the middle of nowhere. When people are supposed to be quarantined. That won¡¯t end well. Julius and his sycophants are plotting something. Both of us know so.¡±


    My own words coiled my heart, until it no longer pulsed; squirmed my lungs, until they no longer breathed, because I was probably infected as well, because I was supposed to be quarantined. Was I infecting everyone?


    Had I?


    How could I give them courage? If I would infect them all.


    ¡°Your friend¡¯s right, Cael Cavanaugh,¡± the local who did not accuse us said. ¡°You¡¯ll only get yourself killed. And all of us.¡±


    <hr>


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    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 30: The Meaning of Hope

    The local¡¯s words sleeted my veins more than the icy winds. I could tolerate the ice. I could endure the snow. I could even brave the arctic waters and boreal blizzards. But I could not endure the words that made me feel a hypocrite, a pretend hero in a world where self-preservation reigned as sole ruler, and everyone had forgotten about those in need, forsaken hope in a brighter future for utilitarianism in a cynical present.


    Worst part was that I couldn¡¯t blame him. That a part of me felt that the local was right. That maybe it was me who was mistaken. Felt like I was casketed in an eternal ice grave, entombed in an avalanche I could not escape from. Ellie and Tim always hoped for the best, and ended up charred in a raw Eugenex blast. While the misanthropical jerks in government and the Harmonists survived unscathed. Perhaps the haters of humanity had a point, but I knew Ellie and Tim had died for hope, I knew I couldn¡¯t fully bring myself to accept the local¡¯s pessimism, but still I ¡­


    And as I thought, almost as if the Holy Spirit¡¯s wind was talking to me, the gelid whiffs that danced around us began to turn into polar blasts that lashed us into action, so hopelessness could not win. Tempests so glacial that I even longed for the scorch of the Bridge. Because even breathing punctured my throat, and spiked my nose, to the point not even covering my mouth with my hand and breathing into it warmed me. It just lacerated me more. I even shivered. And rubbing my hands together did not help.


    The few locals watching the shuddering foreigner must have pitied me, for they handed me some winter clothes. And a smartwatch even, despite their poverty. It put me to shame. And the man who did not accuse us invited us to his house, so I could seat by the fireplace and thaw. Placed a bandage over my arm wound. Shocked that Girgor entered as well, and did not say a thing.


    ¡°So you came to bring devastation to us, traitor?¡± the local said. ¡°Once you¡¯re done, you oughtta leave. You¡¯re wanted.¡±


    ¡°How do you even know about me?¡± I regretted the words the second I said them. Because I knew better.


    ¡°You must have seen the light posts,¡± the local said. ¡°We have electricity, televisions, smartwatches, everything you have in the cities.¡±


    We? I guessed he meant the Impures. But then again, maybe even the Naturals had electricity. They would have died if they didn¡¯t. The local then flashed his smartwatch. And the wind clouted me. Because it said the wind made it feel like ¨C60¡ãC. ¨C76¡ãF.


    It was cold.


    ¡°Everything but the VirtuaNet studios. And the virus,¡± the local added. ¡°But that¡¯s for the better.¡±


    An ice fist blasted my chest, to the point I felt my lungs frozen. Should I have told them the truth? I guessed they already knew, if they had seen the news, but if they didn¡¯t, what would have been the right thing?


    I thought about what I would have preferred in that situation. It coiled my veins, but I knew the answer. And I was about to speak, but Girgor interrupted me.


    ¡°Did the soldiers attack anyone else? Other than the man who died?¡±


    ¡°The man you let them kill,¡± I muttered. Loud enough so Girgor could hear me.


    ¡°Why should I speak to a traitor¡¯s accomplice?¡± the local said. ¡°We already helped you. Now depart for good, and let us live in peace.¡±


    ¡°Did they threaten you?¡± I said. ¡°Or Pangnirtung?¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± the local yelled.


    ¡°They did, didn¡¯t they?¡± I said. ¡°The bastards. We can help.¡±


    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡± Girgor said.


    ¡°Whatever it is, forget it,¡± the local said. ¡°You must leave now.¡±


    ¡°You just need to tell us what¡¯s going on at the base,¡± I said. ¡°Or tell us how to get there.¡±


    ¡°They threatened us,¡± the Inuit-looking man said. ¡°Said they would decimate Pang if we blabbed. So depart before the soldiers return. We can¡¯t hide you forever.¡±


    ¡°Did they do something to you?¡± I said. ¡°To your family?¡±


    The man stood. ¡°This conversation is over,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, if you head there it won¡¯t be the soldiers who kill you, but the prisoners themselves. Two of them, anyway.¡±


    I winced. And then stepped toward him, eagerly, to get him to talk more.


    ¡°An old couple,¡± he said. ¡°Taken. I overheard them by the airport. Said they were happy that they could at least live to see the day you perished.¡± He sneered. ¡°But I suppose you did not grant them that satisfaction either. You should have died.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Girgor blasted. ¡°He ¡­ may have family waiting for him.¡±


    The local had clenched his fists. And Girgor stepped back. Knees flexed.


    I realized where that was going. ¡°Old couple you say?¡± Diverted the conversation. And described to him Ashley¡¯s parents.


    ¡°Yep, they were them.¡±


    ¡°Those were my girlfriend¡¯s parents, former girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°Must have dumped you.¡±


    ¡°She died.¡± At last I could say the phrase without welling up. Or the ice had frozen my tear ducts. I hoped it was the former. ¡°Ashley died in my arms,¡± I said. ¡°I could not save her. But I will save her parents.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll sacrifice Pang for a memory?¡± the man said. ¡°You¡¯re going to put us at risk just to save your dead girl¡¯s parents?¡± He sneered. ¡°That¡¯s the definition of selfishness.¡± His eyes as avalanches ready to suffocate me.


    ¡°They captured others as well,¡± I said. ¡°Whatever they¡¯re doing to them, the faster we can get there, the higher the chance of saving them.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I lost my wife too,¡± the man said. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to sacrifice an entire hamlet just for her memory,¡± he said. ¡°What about us? Do we not matter? Why are their lives worth more to you than ours?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re of equal value,¡± I said. ¡°But there¡¯s a chance we can defend Pang and win, even at the cost of our lives, my life, if you don¡¯t want to fight. But if we do nothing for those captives, if we don¡¯t even try to save them, there¡¯s no chance they¡¯ll survive.¡± I chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d rather take the slim odds of saving everyone than the 100% chance of the captives dying.¡±


    ¡°What if the captives are dead by the time you get there, and then the soldiers come and annihilate Pang?¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s 100% chance of everyone dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather try to save everyone now,¡± I said. ¡°Than to be certain the captives will die. Besides, what if Julius decides to attack Pang in the future? Then you saved no one.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll deal with that when the time comes,¡± he said. ¡°But for the time being we¡¯re safe.¡±


    ¡°Living in fear is not safety,¡± I said. ¡°Not helping others is dying. Now I know that.¡±


    He remained silent, as if he agreed with me, but wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to. Or as if I had reminded him of something he had lost.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to help those captives,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m going to save Pang, with or without you. But with your help it¡¯ll be much easier and faster. I¡¯ll come up with something once I save Ashley¡¯s parents.¡±


    ¡°So you want me to wager over 500 souls on I¡¯ll come up with something?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out,¡± I said. ¡°Worst case scenario: I die fighting for you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if you die,¡± the man said. ¡°I care about those living here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I said. ¡°If you didn¡¯t care, you¡¯d have told the soldiers of my presence. But you didn¡¯t. You care.¡±


    ¡°Sneaky, kid,¡± he said. ¡°But I don¡¯t care enough to help you break into the base.¡±


    ¡°Tuitio Fidei et Obsequium Pauperum,¡± Girgor stated. Solemn. To the point the local even muttered the last word, but shut his mouth before we could notice. He failed.


    ¡°Defense of the faith and assistance to the poor,¡± Girgor said. ¡°You used to be a Knight. You never forget that motto. That is why you seemed familiar. Eudora¡¯s assault perhaps? Or did you volunteer during the war? Yellowstone disaster management?¡±


    ¡°Wexford,¡± he said. ¡°Saved some people. And then assisted during the refugee crisis.¡± He faced down. ¡°When I still hoped for a better future.¡±


    I stepped toward the local. ¡°Did Zielkkenhom kill your wife?¡± I said. ¡°Eudora?¡±


    ¡°An illness did,¡± he said. ¡°But that¡¯s beside the point. I lost hope when Zielkkenhom introduced Eugenex. When people chose Eugenex. Voted him in. His followers. Set up their laws. Ruined civilization. Because the Enhanceds in the Federation and the Confederacy behave in the same way. Saw those I had saved become as inhuman as those I had saved them from. Only the southern territories are somewhat spared. But they shall soon fall. It¡¯s just a matter of time. No point in saving people who¡¯ll become as brutal as their captors. So depart now, while Pang still has time to live.¡±


    ¡°There is still hope,¡± I said. ¡°I felt the same way when¡ª¡±


    ¡°A man dyed the snow red because of hope,¡± he said. ¡°We have a good deal with the soldiers. I ship supplies to them at the base for free so they won¡¯t attack us. But that will change the second they realize I helped someone sneak into their base.¡±


    ¡°You may think there¡¯s no hope left,¡± I said. ¡°But there is. I¡¯ve seen it firsthand. When you lose hope, you become capable of anything. Your end will justify your means. You¡¯ll become a Harmonist, a terrorist. Nothing more than a vicious murderer. I want to give hope to those prisoners. To the infected. To everyone. That we do not need the slaughters of the Harmonists to live in peace, freedom. That we only need to change the minds of the Enhanceds. Find the cure. Only¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only?¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re even more na?ve than I was back in the day.¡±


    ¡°I know it seems impossible,¡± I said. ¡°But with God it can be done. With peaceful resistance, it can be done. It will be done. We will do it.¡±


    ¡°Why do you care so much about Pang?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s just a small town in the middle of nowhere. How can I trust that you truly care about Pang? How can I trust that you are not a government shill?¡±


    ¡°Because I know what it¡¯s like to be forgotten,¡± I said. ¡°When Eudora invaded Ireland, the only invasions that mattered were Dublin and Cork. Wexford did not even receive a mention in the news.¡± I doused the flame blades that seared my veins. ¡°Pang may not matter to the world, but it does to me. Just as much as Wessex. Just as much as the capital.¡±


    The local just stared at me, as if he wanted to trust me, as if he wanted to believe me, because he knew I was right, because he had lived it himself, but fear still shackled his soul, and his eyes glinted of death.


    I thought he would tell me something, he even leaned toward me, but he just turned toward Girgor instead and asked him, ¡°Tafda lilu?¡±


    ¡°Definittivament,¡± he said. ¡°Huwa importanti ?afna g?alina, g?all-missjoni tag?na, g?ad-dinja.¡± He paused for a second. Stared at the floor. ¡°?ajja tieg?u ha valcato l-?ajja ta?-?ew? aktar nies importanti fil-?ajja tieg?i,¡± Girgor said. ¡°I f''corner bi ¨¢delanearm, u l-mara tieg?i u iben ?allas il-prezz kif vendetta.¡±


    The local winced. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Do not be,¡± Girgor said. ¡°I regretted it at first. Blamed myself. God. Everyone. But then the Holy Spirit and Our Blessed Mom illuminated me. And I saw the reason. G?an tieg?u kien ferm og?la minn kwalunkwe wie?ed minna seta ''imma?ina. Anke innifsu. Wara insibu l-kura, jiena ser tg?idlu.¡±


    ¡°Inti onestament ta?seb li hu se ssib l-kura?¡±


    ¡°I do not just think so,¡± Girgor said. ¡°I know so.¡±


    The local sat. Stayed pensive for a minute. His eyes about to tear up, but forcing the tears inside. His gaze fixed at the fireplace. And then he glanced at his smartwatch. A picture of a woman. His wife, I guessed. Watching over him from Heaven. He then stared at me and took a deep breath. His eyes, not warm fear, but cold hope. Of the hope he had regained. A faint glint, but that sufficed. Even a sci¨®llan sufficed. A mustard seed size. The Lord Himself said it.


    ¡°If anyone asks me,¡± the local said. ¡°You stole my jet and I had nothing to do with your insanity.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Thank you, that¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care for that,¡± he said. ¡°Just leave before I change my mind.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Victims don¡¯t give thieves their names.¡± He laughed. ¡°Silaluk Qappik.¡± He then thrust me back. ¡°What are you waiting for? Go steal my jet. I¡¯m not supposed to know.¡±


    ¡°Godspeed, Silaluk.¡±


    He gave Girgor a smartwatch and a healer. And weapons to the both of us. We stepped outside. Back into the blasting wind. Because in Pang, the wind did not whisper. It hollered. ¡°What were you talking about back there?¡± I asked Girgor. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Grown up stuff.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting tired of your condescension,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two.¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re fifty, we¡¯ll talk,¡± he said. ¡°Because the brain does not even stop growing until you are twenty-five.¡±


    ¡°When I¡¯m fifty, you¡¯ll be dead.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess we will talk in Heaven.¡± He chuckled.


    I just sighed and laughed.


    We sprinted to the hamlet¡¯s airport. A narrow strip of land in the south whose snow had been cleared. No one guarded. All soldiers lurked at the base. Girgor and I hopped into Silaluk¡¯s jet and blasted off north. Into Nanisivik. Into the base. Apparently piloting skills were part of training in the Knights.


    Gravity hauled my soul to the Earth¡¯s core, as if I were iron and the core a magnet. Because despite my words, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure I could save Pang. But I would not falter. I would accept the consequences of my decisions. Because for all I knew, everyone in Pang would die. And not by bullets or energy blasts. But something even worst. I prayed for the hamlet. And hoped for the best. I would save Pang, even if they did not support a reform for Cael¡¯s Law, because at least they would have been spared. At least Pang would have a chance to live.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 31: Burning Waters

    It was a landscape of dreams. Snowy peaks and clear skies all over. Immaculate lakes fit for emperors. Reminded me of the Garden. How I pictured Eden would look like. Minus the ice and snow. I shivered despite my winter clothes. The Garden stood in the desert. Would not have been so cold. But God had created ice and arctic wind. Though the reason eluded me. For drinking water, I guessed. Glaciers rested atop the mountains from which rivers that saved us all flowed. And not a single city in sight. No light bursts. Only hamlets on the coasts. Everyone would have thought it perfect. I didn¡¯t. Because what was the point of all that beauty, if no one lived to see it? And though it speared my skin, what was the point of the arctic ice, if not a soul remained to brave it?


    For a second there, when I gazed at the ice that veiled Baffin¡¯s ridges, I thought evil did not exist. But it did. Even if it felt like it didn¡¯t. Because only in Heaven evil did not exist. And I was not in Heaven. Despite the paradise that stretched ahead of us. Silaluk¡¯s words echoed in my mind. I had given him that whole hope speech, and yet, I found myself doubting. And though I wanted to believe it, I could not completely guarantee that only the gravels had lapidated me.


    Baffin had lived through war, its citizens saved, its mountains spared; only for evil to confront them once again; though this time, an enemy only resistant hope could free them from, an enemy that did not come from an ocean away, from a strait away, but from a bridge away, the bridge across the ¨¦astanacsa. Peace and fear at the same time. Fear that froze more than the polar night, and peace that spiked more than war. A war perhaps caused because someone saved Eudora. Because someone spared Zielkkenhom. Was Silaluk right? Did he have a point?


    I pictured Jesus. When he saved the soldier whose ear St. Peter sliced off. When He saved countless other enemies.


    Silaluk was wrong.


    I thought that realization would have comforted me, and it kind of did, but it did not thaw my veins. Nor reduced my shivers. And neither did the fact that a jet emerged in our radar. Military grade. Weapons attached even. Right out in the horizon, four minutes and ten seconds away. Had Silaluk warned them we¡¯d break into their base? To protect Pang, I guessed. In another instance rage would have engulfed me, but it didn¡¯t. I could understand why you¡¯d do something that others could consider traitorous to protect your hometown, those you cared about. So I didn¡¯t mind. We¡¯d just have to deal with the consequences. Tranquility didn¡¯t forsake Girgor¡¯s face either. He must have been through worse. I had gone through worse.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    But before we could even change course as we had no weaponry and would have been no match for it, speed abandoned the military jet, as fish that dashed away from sharks, until it remained nothing but a void carcass of metal that would crash into the ground. And kill everyone inside.


    We would not let that happen, even if they were enemies.


    But the jet crashed before we could do something. Resonated throughout the plains. Ripples mantled the pristine lakes that surrounded us. And yet, it still felt in complete isolation. Majestic nature that would watch us perish, and continue without us. Away from civilization. Away even from tourists and explorers. Only ourselves to rely upon. Us and God. Just like the Bridge. Was that how those in the Rim felt? Was that how we had forced them to feel?


    Thank God the jet didn¡¯t explode in the icy waters, but fuel dripped. It could soon explode. And no one had emerged outside. So Girgor landed and I sprinted to the wreckage, praying it would not explode. Praying I would survive. And for the first time ever since Zee Gevangenis, eagerness, hope, descended upon me, as the light of the Holy Spirit. I guessed after saving people in the Bridge, rescuing others became routine, just another item in your checklist for the day. But the scenery change must have rekindled one of the reasons why I decided to become a bridger in the first place. To save people. To save everyone at risk. And ask the questions later.


    I swam into the crashed remains, and instantly knew that my hope had arrived too soon. When I saw who was in that jet. When Girgor and I lifted debris from the pilot¡¯s bruised legs and carried his unconscious body impaled by shrapnel back to our jet, and away from the smoking wreckage that threatened to decimate us. And forever ruin the Eden around us.


    We had just saved Terrance Vilijoen.


    We had just saved a Harmonist Limb.


    We had just saved the one who annihilated my district. The one who had probably murdered my family. And threatened to start a civil war.


    Silaluk¡¯s words pounded me again, stronger than before, anvils against my soul. Bombs against my brain. And for the first time I thought that perhaps he was right.

 Chapter 32: Brotherhood

    Terrance woke up to a gun pressed against his forehead. Fear gushed into his eyes for a second, as rapids towards a waterfall, but then evaporated into acceptance, even though I thought wrath would nestle in his soul. Resignation that he would die perhaps. That I would kill him. ¡°The seventy-eight thousand one hundred twenty-two souls you massacred clamor for justice.¡± I slid the gun to his temple. He gulped, and I could hear his sweat drip to the floor, even though he tried to pretend his best that he could die a stoic death. Good. I wanted Terrance to fear. I wanted to make him feel weak, vulnerable. More than that. I wanted him to suffer. Feel anguish. I wanted to hack every finger of his until he begged for mercy. Like those who had attended Julius¡¯ address felt. Like those he slaughtered in my district must have felt, because even though they probably died in a second, it was a timeless instant of horror. A frozen second of melting organs and vaporized bones. Perhaps at first Terrance didn¡¯t think I could kill him, but now he did. Yet, I wasn¡¯t sure of what I¡¯d do. I placed my finger on the trigger. Rage engulfing my veins. My chance to avenge my family. My chance to bring him to justice.


    But then Ellie flashed in my mind. If she were alive, she¡¯d put herself in front of Terrance to save him. If she had died, I was certain her spirit would emerge right there to tell me she had forgiven him. That she didn¡¯t want me to lose my soul for a stupid revenge that would solve nothing. Actually if she hadn¡¯t appeared that meant she was alive. I hoped. I guessed I should follow the advice I gave others. I didn¡¯t want to be a hypocrite. And then I glanced at Girgor, stern. He shook his head and snatched his gun from his pocket. Probably to shoot me if I killed Terrance.


    They were right.


    If anyone had the authority to execute Terrance for his crimes, it was the government, as corrupt as it was. Not vigilantes. Not other terrorists. Not me. But the state.


    And if I were in his position, I¡¯d want my enemy to treat me with mercy. But that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d walk away as if nothing had happened.


    I placed the gun in my pocket. ¡°I will spare your life not because you deserve it, Terrance,¡± I said. ¡°But because it¡¯s the right thing to do.¡±


    ¡°You spare my life because you don¡¯t have the guts to kill me, bridger.¡±


    Girgor drew out his gun and aimed at Terrance. ¡°Do not stoke the fire, young man.¡±


    ¡°Do you even care about the innocent people you¡¯ve slaughtered?¡± I said. ¡°Or are they just pawns in your war?¡±


    Now ire blazed in Terrance¡¯s eyes. ¡°I care more about the Naturals than you do, you damn idiot!¡± He reeled back from the pain that blasted his recently-punctured chest. ¡°The people of your district were¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare, you ¡­¡±


    ¡°Casualties,¡± Terrance said, as if it pained him to say it. Bastard. I expected that he didn¡¯t care. I wanted him not to care. ¡°Each and every single one of them were casualties in our fight for freedom. Our fight for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Spare me the lies you brainwash your followers with.¡± I clenched my fists. ¡°Was my family a casualty?¡± It took everything in me not to clout his temple. ¡°Was Almyra a casualty?¡±


    ¡°Just like you, Cael,¡± he said. ¡°Caring more about your family, about an Enhanced, an Achroite to boot, than about the Naturals, than about Impures and Esneas.¡±


    ¡°Because they were innocent, because we¡¯re all the same,¡± I said. ¡°Natural and Enhanced. And your idiotic civil war won¡¯t solve a thing.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± he said, bitter. ¡°You lived in a district with all the amenities of modern life. But for those outside your bubble, life was an agony where they could only hope for death¡¯s sweet reprieve.¡±


    ¡°I was changing that, with Almyra, with Aisha,¡± I said. ¡°But you ruined everything with your virus and your terrorist attack at the Ceremony. You doomed not just our country, but the whole world.¡± I punched the wall. ¡°Damn you, Terrance. What are you going to do once the virus spreads worldwide? How long until we find a cure? Do you even have one?¡± I paused a second, to let my rage settle. ¡°So don¡¯t tell me that you care about innocent people. You only care about yourself and your gang of terrorists seeking absolute power at all costs! You only care about making everyone an Enhanced so you can become the new Zielkkenhom and can control them with ease! You care about nothing but fulfilling your ego and God-complex, just like Zielkkenhom!¡±


    Terrance stood now, despite the pain that his eyes revealed. ¡°And you solely care about your family, and about hot Achroite girls who remind you of the girlfriend you let die!¡± He placed his hand against his chest, and clutched a chair to help him remain on foot. ¡°You only care about helping those who already love you! Care enough to betray your allies! Enough to betray your nation! Enough even to betray Aisha!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t betray them,¡± I yelled. Suppressing my wrath. ¡°And if some of them loathed me for what I did, then they weren¡¯t my real friends anyway.¡±


    ¡°You deserved becoming Feather Lad and losing your family with our attack!¡±


    And with that I lost it. I clouted his chest wound as if I wanted his ribcage to shatter, and jabbed him with my other arm as if I wanted to dislocate his jaw. One of his teeth flew out, I heard a crack, but his jaw didn¡¯t seem to dislocate.


    And it hit me right there. I had just punched a survivor of a plane wreck. What was I becoming? ¡°Terrance, I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°I apologize, Cael,¡± he said, contrite. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it. I¡¯m sorry if your family perished in the attack. And you certainly didn¡¯t deserve Feather Lad. I punished Belisario and Marina for laughing and sharing that disgusting video. And even commented in your support.¡±


    His words pounded me more than any actual fist. Because that meant Terrance wasn¡¯t as horrible as I had him to be. Before, he was just a genocidal maniac. But now, he was the maniac who had apologized for killing my family. With actual remorse. Terrance was no sociopath as he initially seemed. And that just made it more difficult to loathe him.


    I was about to apologize, but something Terrance had said struck me. Our attack? Not my attack? Was Terrance not Freedom¡¯s Voice as I had thought? Then who was? I handed Terrance a healer. ¡°Are you Freedom¡¯s Voice?¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Are you so na?ve that you think I¡¯ll answer with the truth?¡±


    ¡°Are you then?¡± I said. ¡°Did you even set off the attack at the Ceremony?¡±


    ¡°I am Freedom¡¯s Voice, Cael,¡± he said. ¡°I set off the attack.¡±


    Exactly what I needed. ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I said. I had noticed a slight change in his timbre when he answered. ¡°Whom are you protecting?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll die before I tell you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± I said. ¡°But thank you for being a worthy foe who refuses to use dirty tactics such as that video.¡± I shouldn¡¯t have care that much about that thing. Was just a video. But online humiliation sometimes was worst. Because you could never forget. That video would never disappear. Never. ¡°Yours and Aisha¡¯s support meant that it wasn¡¯t just my family who was standing by my side. It meant a lot to me, Terrance. Really.¡± I extended my arm and we shook hands. Though we both knew we were not friends.


    ¡°Why do you care about the Enhanceds, bridger?¡± he muttered. ¡°Do you even know what they¡¯re doing at the base? Massacring Naturals on behalf of Julius¡¯ orders. Using them as guinea pigs to find the cure.¡± His voice thickened. ¡°And yet, you support them. Despite¡ª¡±


    ¡°Despite what, Terrance?¡± I yelled. ¡°I will always save the innocent. I will always try to save as many people as possible, Enhanced or Natural. And if that means for now we have to work together to save the Naturals, then let¡¯s become a team. But if you insist on going the way of war, then only one of us is going to stay alive to tell his story.¡± I forced the words, thinking he wouldn¡¯t see through my cover if I pretended to be resolute in my resolve to kill him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, bridger, that you think they¡¯re innocent,¡± Terrance stammered. ¡°You¡¯re a bridger. The Enhanceds need you. They¡¯ll never purposely treat you like dregs.¡± And before I could even utter a sound, he shot, ¡°Just because Naturals may have hurt you more than the Enhanceds, that doesn¡¯t mean the Enhanceds are all pure and innocent. You can¡¯t use your personal experiences as your guiding posts, because you¡¯re not like most Naturals.¡± He paused a second to not overexert his injured lungs. ¡°Most Naturals, and even the Impures and Esneas, are treated like crap by the higher classes.¡±


    ¡°So then let¡¯s work together,¡± I said, hoping that the Holy Spirit would illuminate him. ¡°Let¡¯s win freedom through peace.¡±


    Terrance sneered. ¡°I used to be as na?ve as you, once,¡± he said. ¡°But idealism is not enough to weather life. Tyrants don¡¯t change. People can¡¯t change, bridger. And the more we blind ourselves to that fact, the harsher the consequences that will befall us shall be. For eventually Zielkkenhom¡¯s tyranny shall turn into Eudora¡¯s one, if we do nothing. If we reform society, instead of bringing about a new one, Naturals will eventually suffer again. And it will be your fault.¡±


    ¡°War is not the answer,¡± I said. ¡°It only brings about¡ª¡±


    ¡°You escaped, bridger,¡± Terrance said. His voice kind of broken, but with the stench of resentment. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend like you know the horror of war because you escaped. You fled to America.¡± He stood. Tears surged in his eyes. ¡°But I could not. I stayed, bridger. I stayed in the EF. And your alleged horrors of war are nothing compared to the torment that followed. You did not suffer the consequences of Eudora¡¯s policies. I did.¡± He shut so I did not hear his broken voice. He wiped his eyes before the tears fell, so I did not see him cry. ¡°Do you know what the first law Eudora passed was?¡± Terrance glanced down, not at the floor though, but at his groin. Just for a second.


    ¡°The sterilization laws.¡± I thought by now rage would not pulse when I thought of that, but it still did.


    ¡°It started like that, bridger,¡± Terrance said. ¡°Until her conquest wars were over and she reformed the government.¡± Terrance paused, though not to make his words sink in, but as if it pained him to talk, as if he did not want to remember, but still had to tell someone. ¡°She created the Secretariat of Population adscript to the Ministry of Health and Citizen Welfare.¡± Terrance clenched his fists even more, to the point that specks of blood dripped from his hands. I thought I knew where he was going. Pa had told me about it when he returned. But it was worse. Much worse. Not even in my worst nightmares could I have pictured it. Because I never thought I¡¯d meet someone who went through that.


    ¡°Eudora decreed that only the best specimens of citizens would be allowed to procreate, all dependent on the needs of the state, so they froze sperm samples and ovaries from these superior specimens, best suited to fulfill the jobs required by the nation, and proceeded to sterilize them afterwards.¡±


    ¡°And they sterilized you?¡±


    ¡°I was not a superior specimen,¡± Terrance stammered, voice broken. ¡°I was not suited for the jobs the state needed. And Eudora wanted to make sure inferior genes did not infect her perfect race, her perfect country, so she ¡­ so she ¡­¡±


    I had never seen Terrance so broken. Water surged into his eyes again. I leaned toward him and placed my hand on his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t mind if you cry, Terrance.¡±


    ¡°Crying solves nothing, bridger.¡± Terrance still didn¡¯t cry, but only because he held his tears in his eyes. ¡°So Eudora made sure we could not reproduce, not even with assisted reproduction methods. So ¡­¡± And then tears scratched his face, though he did not sob. Did not care that I saw him. How long had he kept that to himself? ¡°So she made sure no inferior male could produce sperm, and no inferior female be with child.¡±


    I hugged him.


    He sniffled and hugged me back.


    Had to force the words through his pain, through his sobs.


    ¡°The Ministry¡¯s health officials removed the testicles of all unfit men,¡± he said. ¡°And then they removed the ovaries of the unfit women. So only the most suited humans could reproduce, and populate her perfect, efficient state with no poverty and no crime. Where the state¡¯s bureaucracy knows best.¡±


    And at that moment, Terrance ceased to be just the brainwasher, just the Harmonist mouthpiece, but the man who willed to avoid tyranny, who willed to bring freedom to the Naturals. The man who had weathered such a horrible trial, and done so much more valiantly than me, for he still lived. And did not choose suicide. I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d have done in that situation. And prayed I never had to face it. But, when I thought of his methods, when I thought of what the Harmonists stood for, of the possible genocide they could have caused, I wasn¡¯t so sure that I could support him.


    ¡°I had to grow up with testosterone shots and pellets,¡± he muttered. ¡°And will have to live like that for the rest of my life.¡±


    I let him cry on my shoulder for a minute. And did not say anything of it. I just hoped I could help him. Because at that moment, he was not my enemy. He was my friend. And I had to help him.


    He moved away from me and wiped his tears. ¡°Crying doesn¡¯t solve¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to justify yourself for crying,¡± I said. ¡°You do, however, for trying to start a civil war and let a genocide decimate the planet. And you ruined things for me.¡± I saw Terrance¡¯s bewildered expression. ¡°I can¡¯t kill you now.¡±


    He chuckled. First time I had seen him chuckle. Ever. ¡°Thank you, brid ¡­ Cael,¡± he said. ¡°You are a kind person at heart. Mistaken, but kind.¡±


    ¡°Same as you, Terrance,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re too good for the Harmonists.¡±


    ¡°Once we arrive at the base, while you save the Naturals there, I¡¯ll hack into their servers, locate the bases being used for human experimentation and send operatives to rescue the Naturals in each and every single one of them,¡± Terrance said. ¡°I will always fight for liberty, regardless of the casualties. So after we rescue those at the base, we return to being enemies.¡± He lowered his voice when he said that phrase. Even hunched a tad.


    Terrance and I shook hands. ¡°I know, Terrance. I know,¡± I said, disappointed.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 33: Nanisivik, Forsaken Mining Town

    An hour and twenty-one minutes later, we spotted the base in the horizon, but no soldiers guarded it, so we landed by a frozen lake thirty-five minutes away from Nanisivik¡¯s airport and skulked our way toward the base, in case it was a trap. Pillared right in the center of Nanisivik, the USN¡¯ military Arctic base served as a reminder of the mining town that Nanisivik used to be, as a reminder of the life Nanisivik used to sustain. Heavy snow mantled its roads, and solely a handful of silos and a post office rested upon its soil that still reeked of aratium. Only plots of long forsaken single-story houses that time and nature had spared, that kept alive the memory of a town that at its peak, supported over a hundred thousand miners who extracted the mineral from which Eugenex was derived. The main source of employment in all of Nunavut.


    But once aratium had become a mere dream, only the nightmare of unemployment and failed explorations remained. Once aratium was no more in Nanisivik, abandonment became its destiny, as it had been before, as perhaps it was always intended, since not even the blades of icy wind that lacerated us granted us a second of reprieve. But the airport still stood, intact. So I always hoped that Nanisivik was destined for more. I always hoped that it¡¯d support life. We had braved nature¡¯s toughness before, and always survived. Always won at the end. The Rim being the perfect example. But it still clouted me that I had never been there.


    But then I saw something that blasted my chest. A soldier emerged from the base and tossed a corpse into the snow, buried it, as if it were a mere critter. Flame blades seared my veins. And I did not shiver. I did not feel the wind. Only wrath. Which Girgor strengthened when he hauled me into the snow. Terrance knew better. He had remained still. Unnoticed.


    ¡°What is it about you, Girgor?¡± I murmured so the soldier didn¡¯t hear us. ¡°The last time you did that someone ended up dead. You¡¯d better talk to a priest to confess you, but I won¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait a second, you impudent ragazzo.¡± He drew out his tranquilizer gun.


    Terrance shook his head. ¡°Rashness will be your doom, Cael. Friendly advice.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    We discussed our strategy and executed as planned. I skulked beneath the snow toward the soldier who had marched to the base¡¯s entrance. Biolocked. I prayed he didn¡¯t notice me. The scanner analyzed his fingerprints and retina. It cleared. The door opened. But the soldier did not enter. He kicked me. But I didn¡¯t even feel pain. I just hauled his hand and snatched off his glove as if I wanted to sever his hand. I knew I would not. Because of the Eugenex.


    He then seized my neck and was about to crack my spine. I caught a glimpse of the soldier¡¯s eyes. Which I thought would have glinted wrath, but they didn¡¯t. He seemed sad. Mournful. I caught a glance of the corpse he buried. And it was not a prisoner, but a soldier. One of his own. Esne most likely. But then I spotted a pustule in his hand. And I understood why. He didn¡¯t care that much about his colleague, but that he would die as well. Had they run out of antivirals, medicines? Or was he not ranked high enough to get them? I prayed for the latter. The lives of everyone in Pang depended on it.


    Girgor and Terrance acted as we had planned. Just before the soldier was about to kill me, Terrance pummeled his face so he¡¯d let go of my neck and Girgor shot him. He then plummeted unconscious. Soon to die. But I did not feel sorry for him. And did not mind. Not after what he had done. I would save his prisoners first. Then those in Pang, and finally if he was still alive by that time, I¡¯d save him. I even wanted to bury him in snow as he had done his colleague, but I did not. Would have been wrong. And a waste of time.


    I wiped off the pus that leaked on my neck. One of his pustules must have exploded when he snatched me. But it did not gross me out. I just prayed I was immune. Or highly resistant. No point in worrying if I would die. At least not when we had people to save right in front of us. We used his hand to open the door again, which had shut due to safety reasons. I just sneered. What was the point? Did massacring Naturals need security? The door opened and we stepped inside.


    Death welcomed us, guised as a shoal of artificial light encased by steel walls.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 34: Casket of Steel Ice

    An alarm began to blare throughout the base. Just a one-story facility, but of labyrinthine halls and corridors that would shame even the most seasoned cartographer. But Terrance sprinted through the corridors as fast as a marlin, as if he knew the base¡¯s layout, and I guessed he did. Which clouted me. Because that meant the Harmonists were much more powerful and organized than I had given them credit for. And that Freedom¡¯s Voice was much more than just a voice. It dawned upon me for the first time. We could actually lose a war against them.


    But I needed to save the Naturals first. All those thoughts vanished when I saw what lay ahead of us. The anvils to my chest returned. I even winced. A sea of corpses. In front of me. Ice blades, flames blades, gravels, everything lacerated, scorched my heart, my soul. To the point I could not hear the alarm anymore. And I felt I had returned to the Bridge. To an ocean of bridger failures. Pustules shrouded their bodies. Their faces. To the point I couldn¡¯t tell if they were still human.


    Sick bastard. I thought him low, vile, but it didn¡¯t clout me until I saw it, the extent of Julius¡¯ genocide. Though I guessed Zielkkenhom had come up with the plan, after the first pandemic. And Julius just obeyed like the good bootlicker he was. Pathetic sap. If he wasn¡¯t a genocidal maniac I¡¯d have felt sorry for him. I had little sympathy for people whose souls lay not within them, but someplace deeper than the Earth¡¯s core, deeper than the most putrid bog on the surface, deeper than the searing cave of icy crystals, so they¡¯d have practice for eternity.


    Ellie would have sympathized with Julius, though. And not just prayed for him, but with him; even if she knew he would kill her when they finished. She always made me change my mind. I prayed for fortitude. Not to let vengeance drown me.


    ¡°Bastards,¡± I heard Girgor mutter. Had never seen him like this before. I didn¡¯t know how he fared in Wexford, but to see him like that after everything he must have seen as a Knight clouted my chest, even more than the corpses themselves. But before I could even utter a sound, he shot, ¡°Stay safe, bambino,¡± and then just sprinted ahead, as if he also knew the layout. As if he knew exactly where to go and what to do. And kept me in the dark about his plans. But I didn¡¯t have time to worry about his hidden plans. I needed to save Ashley¡¯s parents. And the other Naturals, as well.


    Gravity hauled my soul to the turloughs of Earth¡¯s core, felt it leave my body. To the point I felt a hollow vessel for organs. To the point I felt as void as the Enhanceds. Because I knew they were human. And for a second, I had thought them just corpses, just carcasses that I had to avoid so they wouldn¡¯t infect me. But God had given them dignity. And I would respect that. I was keeping my distance from them, because it would have been foolish to move them outside and provide them a proper burial. I could have gotten infected and died. And forsook those who clamored for justice.


    I spotted a Harmonist among the deceased, had seen him on the news a year ago. I prayed for him, but I did not feel sorry for him. I knew what the Harmonists had done. Blow up water plants. Tamper with the biomass power plants. Manipulate the people into thinking their rule would free them. They were the same enslavers that Zielkkenhom was, only more vicious and brutal. But then again, Julius had ordered a mass annhiliation to find the cure, a genocide against Naturals. So one thing I knew. No one could rule indefinitely. At least, not if things remained the same. I would make sure of that.


    I hadn¡¯t even stepped ahead, when someone snatched my neck and thrust me into a nearby room. Could not even stretch my arm toward him. My snatcher¡¯s eyes, as glinting blazes ready to shoot me. Ready to make me one more of the corpses. Ready to send me to the afterlife.


    I stared at the barrel of the gun. But I was not going to panic. I calmed down and scanned the area. A vase lay nearby. I placed my arms behind my back and turned, but immediately crouched, grasped the vase, and hurled it at him. He just sneered, thinking I was an insect of sorts, and dodged it, but that sneer vanished when I rammed against him and struck his chest, struck it with his own arrogance.


    He tumbled and let go of his gun and I stretched my arm towards it but he just stood still, staring at the gun, staring at me snatch the gun. And I didn¡¯t know whether to target him or just shoot him, but I decided to target him, though not with the trigger ready. ¡°What do you have to say?¡±


    ¡°Tecum sum,¡± he said.


    Latin? A Natural? Must have been. He seemed familiar, but I couldn¡¯t remember where I had seen him. He had a common face.


    ¡°Tecum sum.¡±


    A natural working for the military? A traitor?


    ¡°I¡¯m an insider,¡± he said. ¡°I want to help you. Actually, I just want to avenge those who died here. Those bastards will not get away with genocide. Which has accomplished nothing. Because they have not even found someone immune yet.¡± He paused a second, as if to gather his thoughts. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s you. You¡¯re still alive and asymptomatic.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s equal to me,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Surrender immediately, traitors Cael Cavanaugh and Marko Zelnej,¡± declared a soldier through the base¡¯s speakers. ¡°We have slaughtered the other defectors.¡± His voice, even more stern than before. ¡°If you capitulate now, we shall kill you swiftly. Should we be in need to blast the door open, you shall suffer a death more tormenting than your worst nightmares. We shall grant you one minute to surrender.¡±


    ¡°Defection?¡± I asked Marko.


    ¡°I convinced some soldiers to defect because they had started perishing,¡± he said. ¡°Though what sliced their egos more was that their perfects bodies had been scarred. Disfigured. Sometimes I think they¡¯re even hollower than the Achroites, even though their blood is not translucent. I had planted the seeds of rebellion, and that stupid Julius bastard reaped them himself, once the soldiers found out he could not ship them any more antivirals. And they killed each other for the few remaining doses.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The images of Pang pummeled my mind, not as gravels, but as landslides that crushed my brain, and rendered my soul void. I saw myself returning to Pang, only for a shoal of corpses in the snow to welcome me. Bodies reduced to nothing but wretched refuse, dirt. As if they had not been persons, as if they had not lived at all, but as if their sole purpose rested on vanishing into the snow. Where the arctic winds and polar nights would freeze them, and the midnight sun scorch them, until no one knew they had ever existed. Until Pang became as desolate as the mountains of Baffin, more deserted than the Rim, and even more bleak than the Bridge.


    Before I could even say something, I heard Marko click something in his pocket. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Cael,¡± he said. ¡°I snatched a couple of grenades from their supplies. Once they enter we¡ª¡±


    Grenades? I had to answer sooner than I thought. ¡°You might kill prisoners with that.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all dead, Cael,¡± he said. ¡°No point in worrying about corpses.¡±


    ¡°What if someone¡¯s still alive?¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡±


    ¡°We can just defeat them.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to kill them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want us to lose our souls,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to kill in self-defense. Another to blast grenades all over.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way.¡±


    ¡°Only way? Are you a Harmonist or something?¡± I said. ¡°Because you sound just like them. The end justifies the means.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want vengeance for those Julius massacred?¡±


    ¡°I want to find the cure,¡± I said. ¡°And I will not become Julius in the process. I will not become Zielkkenhom or Eudora in the process.¡± I said the words, but deep down, even though it squirmed my soul to admit it, I was not certain of that. Needed to pray harder. And act.


    ¡°And what if I were a Harmonist?¡± he said. ¡°Would that be such a problem? The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Even a temporary one.¡±


    ¡°The enemy of my enemy is also my enemy.¡±


    ¡°I am not a Harmonist,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m just an Impure fed up with Zielkkenhom. One who¡¯s willing to do something about it. Not just bridge and live in peace in his district.¡±


    I stared at him. He did not seem to lie. ¡°If we could get the Enhanceds to support reforming the Non-Enhanced Defense Act, or even the Constitution itself, we¡ª¡±


    I saw his face. Not void as that of the soldiers, but as magma bursts, ready to explode.


    ¡°If we are going to work together¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why do you get to call the shots?¡± he said. ¡°I saved you.¡±


    The USN soldiers opened the door and Marko just hurled one of his grenades at them. I shut my eyes, ducked, and the explosion blasted my eardrums. To the point I could not hear a thing. And something struck my arm. Something that seemed like a body part. But I did not look. Could not. I had lived through the blasts of Section O. Through the wails of Wexford. And I would not relive them.


    I just sprinted outside and opened my eyes, Marko now gone. Soldiers merged with the Naturals. Esneas, equaled to the Naturals. Only in death, I guessed. And I prayed they would all rest in eternity, but the Esneas had dirtied their hands for the Achroites, stained their souls for them, and I did not think it would end well. But I always prayed for miracles. Ellie taught me that. Even for people who did not deserve them.


    I darted past the steel mausoleum the base had turned into, trying not to step on corpses on the way, but having gravity blast my soul each time I did, to the point I felt it ripped out of me, and thrust into the abyss of Cumberland Sound. But I stepped on them, not because I wanted to, but because it seemed more like a battlefield than a base. Even in Wexford the corpses did not lie next to each other, as a soul-smashing pack of sardines. Was it wrong that I was not consumed by grief? I knew the Bridge had desensitized me, but to the point of stepping on a corpse by accident, and be able to keep going?


    My hearing returned, not completely, but enough so that I could hear bullets and explosions. The lights had gone, but it seemed like a supernova compared to the Bridge. I thought of helping Marko, not because I though the soldiers would kill him, though that was a possibility, but because the thought of him dying in that state squirmed my chest, of his soul facing God in that state, of him suffering eternally coiled my soul.


    But not as much as when I stepped on a corpse and collapsed. Not as much as when I saw that corpse¡¯s face. And recognized it. Flame blades seared my veins. To the point I felt back in the Bridge. And I knew exactly where I had seen it. I would never forget those faces. The faces of that day. One of Eudora¡¯s soldiers, one of those who invaded Wexford guised as Knights of Malta. One of those who razed an innocent city, and forever tarnished the Knights¡¯ reputation in Ireland and the rest of Europe.


    Took all the power of the Holy Spirit within me not to kick his face. Thank God he was¡­ I thought of something else. Diverted it. Because that was not a Christian thought. Vengeance was not Christian. I would have to pray for him. And I tried to, but I could not say the words, not even in my mind. Perhaps I could when I was not in front of them, because when I faced them, when I was face to face with those inhuman slaughterers, things changed. And difficulty spiraled.


    It coiled my soul. Squirmed it of all its holiness. Because Jesus had saved His enemies. Because Jesus prayed for his enemies. Even in front of them. Even while they were crucifying Him. And they had not crucified me. I knew what I had to do.


    God, spare him.


    Fast, quick. But that would matter so much for God because I had let go of my sinful desires. But then I thought of the Commandant, the one who had shot me. The soldier in front of me had not shot me. And I still found praying for him more difficult than remaining calm after three minutes and fifty-nine seconds in the Bridge. If I stood in front of the Commandant, if God placed me in that spot, would I have His fortitude? And more importantly, would I use it?


    But then it clouted me. If I found someone passing off as an USN soldier, how many more did? Had an EF regiment infiltrated the USN¡¯ military, assaulted the base even? Was Zielkkenhom so incompetent? Or too arrogant to think someone could infiltrate his army? I went with the latter.


    I examined the corpses, but none seemed familiar. None I had seen. Counted over a hundred bodies. And it had been a waste of time. Time I could have used to escape. But then I heard something. Saw someone move. A Natural. Two Naturals. They were alive. Joy thawed the ice that remained in my veins. It had not been a waste of time. I smiled. Even more when I saw them. But they did not smile when they saw me alive. They thought I was the reason their daughter had died.


    Ashley¡¯s parents lay in front of me.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Chapter 35: Parents

    The first thing that clouted me was not the ice, not the bullets, not the soldiers. But Ashley¡¯s father. I approached him and knelt by his side when I felt his punch to my nose, with the strength of an iron bar. I crashed into the floor, bleeding. Opaque red blood. Not in various shades of iridescence as that of the Enhanceds. Thank God. And it did not hurt. Not a twig. And not because I had lived through the raw Eugenex burn, not because I had lived through the Bridge, but, because, deep down, I thought I deserved it. Deep down, I guessed I still felt guilty about Ashley. So he was justified in punching me. To vent his wrath at me. I knew it wasn¡¯t right venting off steam against others like that. But what could I do? When I had watched his daughter die in front of me, in front of thousands, and could not do a thing.


    He approached me, but Ashley¡¯s mom writhed in agony. I leaned toward her and gave her my jacket, but Ashley¡¯s dad shoved me away and knelt by her side.


    ¡°Sweetie, are you alright?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Are you okay? Don¡¯t worry. Everything will be fine,¡± he whispered into her ear.


    ¡°Cael, come,¡± she muttered. ¡°I must tell you something.¡± She coughed. ¡°Step aside,¡± she then told her husband.


    I stepped towards her and knelt down. She whispered her last words into my ear. ¡°Deep down, Ashley¡ª¡±


    I held my breath.


    ¡°¡ªdespised you.¡± She shut her eyes forever afterwards.


    An ice blast froze my heart. And I felt worse than dead. Ashley despised me. How could she? Maybe her mom lied. Maybe she also wanted to take her revenge on me. But what if that was true? We had argued about her fascination with Eugenex, VirtuaNet, and the Tower of Rebirth, but I never thought she¡¯d loathe me. I guessed I just didn¡¯t want to see the truth.


    Ashley¡¯s dad then thrust me aside. ¡°Why must you exist? Is your sole goal to make my life miserable? Is your sole purpose in life to rob me of my family, of my happiness?¡± He stood right in front of me and said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you just die?¡± and then clouted my face. But I blocked his punch this time. Because I had not caused Ashley¡¯s death. Even if my mind told me otherwise. I thought he would jab me again, but he leaned by his wife. In tears. Devastated. He snatched my jacket and hurled it outside. His last effort in this world. Because he winced in wrathful pain and clutched his chest, right where his heart was taking its last beats, waning until life left his body. And cold silence led him to the Afterlife. So he and his wife could be with their daughter. Except that they had lived in hatred, in wrath. And I did not know of their fate.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    I prayed for them, and raced for the exit. The door was shutting. I just needed to slide beneath it. I would survive. Even if my heart coiled and my veins squirmed at the thought of me not doing enough; of me forsaking the corpses, forsaking the prisoners who had died. Because I had survived, and they had not. But if my family still lived, I could save them.


    Or so I thought.


    The door had shut. A second before I could reach it. My foot banged the door. And my mind chiseled that sound in my ears. I tried opening other doors, other exits, but accomplished nothing. My heart pulsed. I dashed to the control room and read the message on the central computer screen.


    Facility shutdown process has been initiated.


    The temperature would drop to ¨C100¡ãC. That¡¯s what shutdown meant. I would freeze. Had escaped death by drowning. Only to suffer death by freezing. I gazed at the monitors. No one remained. Not Girgor. Not Marko. Not even a soldier. No one was there, only me. And I had no idea how to stop the shutdown process. I fumbled around with the control system but nothing happened. It was locked. I kept trying, trying to save myself, trying to do something but everything was for naught. And panic had begun to set in me, but I just took a deep breath and sat down. Had I died for nothing?


    I lay down and gazed at the ceiling. And I saw her, Ashley ¡­ Almyra. I wiped my eyes and opened them. There she was, or they were. It was as if Almyra had merged with Ashley, or Ashley had merged with Almyra. She descended from the ceiling and stood still, as if waiting for me. I shook my head and approached her, but she vanished as I stood a quarter of a second away. She didn¡¯t talk to me, didn¡¯t see me even. She was just there, in the background.


    Was Ashley fading in the background, in the background of my life? Or was it Almyra? And a frightening thought jolted me. What if Almyra was truly dead? On some level, I had the hope that she¡¯d survived the raw Eugenex blast, along with my family, but what if that was God telling me that Almyra had already died? My guts wrenched, my veins writhed at that thought, and at the thoughts that followed. If Almyra had died, it would have meant that I wasn¡¯t going insane, but if she was alive, then, I must have had Gieves Syndrome.


    But I decided to invest my last minutes praying, not worrying about whether I was sane or not, or whether Almyra was alive or not. At least, until I saw something on the floor. Something that would save me. Something that would kill me.


    A Eugenex vial.


    <hr>


    Hi, my fellow bridgers! Thank you so much for reading The Last God. It means a lot to me that you took time to read my story. Being able to share this story with others has been an amazing experience.


    I will appreciate your comments and reviews because my work is intended for you. I invite you to share this experience in social media through the links below. Every single review or share matters.


    Thanks again for reading. May God bless you. Have a great day!

 Author Update

    Hey bridgers,


    First of all, I want to thank every single one of you who read, followed, rated, favorite, or reviewed The Last God, particularly to Moist Nugget for his amazing review. It¡¯s been great being able to share a world created for you guys, and an extraordinary journey you made worthwhile.


    I¡¯m sharing my thoughts with you bridgers because The Last God looks like it¡¯s going to be much longer than planned, and I¡¯ll probably won¡¯t have it ready in a timely fashion for you guys to read. However, since I value you and wanted you to have an equally-engaging story to read while I finish writing The Last God, I decided to release a new story.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    It will be a LitRPG prequel to The Last God, titled The Last Game, which chronicles how Cael managed to rise to the position he¡¯s in at the start of The Last God. It¡¯ll have the feel of both, contemporary sci-fi dystopian stories and JRPGs, like Final Fantasy, Golden Sun, and the Tales series, one of my favorite video game series of all time.


    I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. So take care my bridgers and leap out safely. I look forward to reading your comments on how you feel about The Last Game.


    https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/31234/the-last-game</a>