-Chapter 23-
152 years and 2 months before the Collapse
Graham slipped his arms into an ill-fitting suit jacket, dimly aware of the radio chatter from the other room as he inspected himself in the closet-door mirror. His whole suit was just a tad too big, and the jacket didn’t have a collar. He sighed, rubbing the prison tattoo on the back of his neck. It will do. Running a hand through his hair, Graham took a seat on the foot of the bed. This is really happening, isn’t it?
The document was still tucked neatly in his breast pocket, and Graham reached for it, unfolding it for another glance. Long columns of text occupied the page and the church’s watermark was stamped in the corner. Somehow, Graham thought the divorce papers would have been a stack of detailed amendments, but it was only a single appeal.
It was all happening so fast. Graham kept waiting for someone to intervene or for something to go wrong. He wished someone would tell him he was making a mistake.
Newly folded, Graham tucked the paper back into his pocket and walked over to the doorframe.
“Kia!” he called, “I’m heading out for a bit. Jaylen will be back from work in an hour.”
Something on the radio caught Graham’s attention, and he stepped into the kitchen to turn it up,
“This just in: Authorities have arrived at the scene,” a voice said. “Four employees have already been found deceased, and we don’t know how many are left inside or when the fire will be contained.” Graham furrowed his brow, leaning in closer. I could have sworn I heard…
“Thankfully, Aid was quick to respond when the explosion occurred minutes ago. We do not know how many are injured or dead. Civilians are advised to stay away from the Discovery Council while authorities work to evacuate the building.”
…
Graham raced down cobble streets, his jacket flapping behind him and his heart racing faster than his feet. He was numb, barely aware of his surroundings as he ran, the only subject of his vision a thick black column of smoke. It drifted upwards, beyond shingled roofs and chimneys, trailing skyward from the upper sector like a dark omen. The only question Graham dared to ask kept repeating in his head. Where is Jaylen?
A crowd had gathered at the Discovery Council by the time Graham arrived. Authorities in rubber yellow jackets tried to contain the gathering onlookers while others in red were pulling the wounded out of the wreckage. The front face of the building had been gored, and fire burned hot within.
Graham fought his way through the crowd, barely aware of their protests, as he pushed people out of the way. He needed to see her. His heart was pounding, and his head was aching. He needed to know she was safe. Authorities tried to grab him as he neared the front, but he wasn’t going to stop. For only a moment, there was a gap in the crowd, and Graham caught a glimpse of the square. Bricks and fragments of statues were scattered across it. Scorched bodies were laid out, some attended by Aid. Graham hit the ground with his chin, and his vision swam as the authorities piled on top of him. A part of the roof caved in, and the fires flared outward, shooting sparks into the sky.
Jaylen was nowhere to be seen.
…
Snowflakes fell like ashes, melting as they touched the ocean’s ripples. Warm lamplight glimmered in the waters, and the only sound was the dipping and rowing of oars as a solemn procession traversed the tides. Even the wind was hushed.
A wide barge drifted through the fog, decorated with thin white curtains and long trains that draped into the waters. Twelve canal boats followed. Graham sat with Kia in a boat of his own, the old wooden oar dripping across his knees and a chill ocean breeze weaving through his hair. He worried that Kia would be cold. Her frilly white dress was hardly warm, but she didn’t complain. Her innocent eyes were laden with fearful confusion.
Jaylen’s family rowed close, gathering around the barge as it lowered its anchor. A reverent, dressed in traditional white robes, stepped up to the edge, a ram’s horn with a cork in the end held delicately between his fingers.
“Jaylen was a light to all,” the reverant began, “and the unfortunate circumstances of her death have left us all in great sorrow.”
You never knew her, Graham thought. Anger flared inside of him, but it would not take hold, dwindling under the weight of his grief. Kia sat still, watching from the front of the boat, her lips gently parted and her eyes open wide. Graham wondered if she really understood what was happening, if she would ever understand.
“With its tethers broken, her soul is now free to roam the eternal plane.” The reverant continued, “All that is left of its once vibrant vessel are these ashes.” He held the horn over the waves. “And now, as we return her to the waters, we bless her soul to drift softly in its slumber. Sol rest her well.”
“Rest her well indeed,” the gathered crowd replied in unison. Graham didn’t say it. He didn’t have the strength to move his lips. He simply watched as the reverant uncorked the horn and poured her ashes into the water.
They rested on the surface for a moment before sinking out of sight.