The Dead Scout's Handbook of Afterlife Survival

Chapter 35: Gregory's Bell

Sergei glided through the streets of Cody while Cayden stumbled behind, dragging an anchor fashioned of beer and travel. Glass lanterns on lofty, light posts lined the streets, casting the shadows of pillars along the walls and wood planked sidewalks. Their footsteps echoed to them, interrupted by pattering traffic on the opposite side of the street. TVs from the rooms on the second and third stories of the surrounding buildings called down to them as voices shouted and sharp pings and dings rang out from "saloons". Flashing lights spilled on the walkway from open windows, and the aroma of booze, fried food, and cigars passed with each swinging door.

A black-haired woman wearing an over-sized, cowboy hat burst past a doorway, crashed into Sergei and fell to the dirt road. He turned to help her and she slurred something about an assault, so Sergei shrugged and trekked on with Cayden. Not a lot bothered Sergei. He carried himself as if an invisible force lifted his weight to the sky and gesticulated to all as if they were old friends.

They passed the town hall and the transporter as Sergei slowed to allow Cayden to catch up. "We are going to see structure in Cody. It is important structure for some, not so for others. It was built several years after Four's attack on Cody. It is both monument and warning system. It is outdated yet artistic which, when you reach a certain... fanciness, is preferable to function."

They strolled through the dimly lit street for ten minutes until it merged with two alleys and continued as a large road toward a spiraling, white, stone tower extending at least 150 feet into the air. Cayden noticed the houses shrinking. The wood sides showed more cracks with an occasional window boarded up, while underfoot, the sidewalks creaked with Sergei hopping past a broken plank every once in a while. Deep carvings of names, dates, and symbols marred the larger buildings as they approached the spire.

Graffiti scarred the tower itself. Years of exposure to the city blackened its walls, especially over the two oxidized copper tubes spiraling around the concrete and marble stem. The tubes spun up to a cracked glass sculpture of a flame at the top. Several dents caved in the sides of the copper tubes and indents along the corners of the tower suggested chronic beatings from man and nature. High on its facade, stretched the marble carving of a stout, bearded man holding the hand of a small boy. Across the front of the spire, in black spray paint, "Gregory's Little Bell" was scrawled in dripping letters.

"This is Gregory's Bell. A big tower with a light at top. It shines and rings if Four attack again!" Sergei waved his arms in the air to convey its majesty. "Gregory fled city a year ago... perhaps less. He was only survivor following fall of Cody and only original settler to stay after barriers were builded. Construction is fast here though it takes much convincing for Pirene to remake Cody. Gregory talked investors to fund the rebuilding, and he was considered great man. People respected him, even when the media talk of violence among pyromancers, and still, he obsessed over revenge. I cannot blame him. I think he wanted to be hero and to protect Cody and stop The Four."

Sergei and Cayden stood silently regarding the tower.

"Gregory left town when police claim he murdered a young girl at a school, long ago. They accuse him also of causing disappearance of many fire users. He escaped before the police can catch him and in the last year, the graffiti appeared. Nobody repairs the monument, and it was built in bad 'hood. Nobody sees Four again and nobody believed it happened. A lot of disrespect comes from disbelief and as you say...vice versa."

"I think he shows you what it is to be superhero or super-villain. Gregory was supersomething and Cody's people were his purpose, his meaning. His need to protect them transform him into super-villain. He dedicated himself to single purpose, and now we hate him because he picked a purpose that does not concern us. But if Four strike tomorrow and he returns when the warning bell rings and powers of every pyromancer he took are able to destroy the enemy... he would be hero again. Books and movies would be written of how he cried over dead fire users he killed. So all this depends on respect from others, no matter his actions, no matter his will."

"I..." Cayden started.

"I try to say heroes and villains are not real," Sergei resumed. "They are made in the books and the movies and the stories. They live for one purpose and are heroes for it. In real world, if you live for single goal and do everything for that one goal, you get this: sad monument of sad life. You can be superhero. I know you can. Do you want that?"

Cayden's eyes sank to the ground. "Not much else that... that I'm good at..."

"So it is, but nobody should be good at everything. If someone is great at everything, they will always be bothered by others with chores and tasks. A man who can do anything will either become a martyr to do so or a disgrace to not. Do not hold yourself to such an ideal. Weakness is a flaw to work on, but allows for rest. And as for greatness, being remembered as a success in everything, that is a decision of everyone else. Purpose, though, is yours alone. In finishing, if you decide to work or fight, be sure you have a purpose and reason to continue, for otherwise, you will never know when to stop."

#

Cayden returned to the town hall alone. The path to Sergei's residence took a different turn a short distance from the spire. Following his talk with Sergei, Cayden had spoken of the tattoo and his power changing ability. Cayden informed him about Sarah and The Four as well. To avoid any awkwardness, he avoided further discussion on the subject of Gregory. Perhaps it was Sergei's openness or relentless friendliness allowing Cayden to speak so freely, and he wondered if he might regret that.

To Cayden's surprise, Sergei took the most interest in The Four rather than the tattoo. To Sergei, it seemed so odd that everyone had so much trouble with the cryptic foe. Yet, here Cayden was, having killed two of them, chased off a third, and been a party to the death of the fourth. Fighting was a talent, one Cayden had and couldn't use.

Sergei's words hung heavy around Cayden's neck, pulling his shoulders down and forward as his feet slapped the walkway. When Cayden dragged War underwater in a steaming heap of scrap metal, his heart throbbed and body unburdened itself from all weakness as he would imagine a hero's would. He saved Sarah, Rebecca, Charlie, and Martha. He could do some good with his ability, though his powers and more so, the superhero romanticism, seemed hollow and tragic now. He couldn't even take care of a kid let alone the world.

A tall, broad-shouldered, pale stranger with tattered jeans and an impenetrable darkness under his gray hooded jacket pushed into Cayden's shoulder as he walked by. Cayden whirled around and formed a sphere of white, orange and red flames. The man backed off and held his hands up. "Whoa! Whoa! I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was goin'!" his voice cracked. He held the ball of flames in front of him as the tall man trembled and stumbled backwards further. "Look I'm sorry, it was rude. Just...just let me go, I'll give you whatever I got on me." Cayden shook his head and brought his hand to his side. "Damn pyromancers," the man said while dashing off, his heavy footsteps thumping away into the darkness. Cayden sighed into the night.