Terminal (Terminal trilogy #1)

25: Homecoming

"So you're actually an immortal? Can you prove that?" Incredibly enough, my story alone hadn't been enough to fill the entire ride down to Hell.

"If you shot me in the head, I'd be back with a new body within the hour." My back was getting stiff from sitting.

"What happens to your old one?"

"It stays."

Blake looked grossed out, then recovered and said, "I don't suppose there's a final part to this? Some kind of end all resolution?"

"For who? Phin? I haven't seen him since. God knows what he's been doing without me."

"He's immortal too?"

"All my old friends are, unfortunately." I paused. "I hate them all."

"I know that's a lie."

"Yeah. Sometimes that kind of thing just slips out of me."

"Sorry, but have you ever considered, I don't know, not lying? Not losing your temper? Just being nicer?"

"When I try to act nice, I just end up feeling fake. I'm not really sure. It's just kind of hard for me."

"You must have positive emotions for some people, right?"

"I feel like I'm lying no matter what I do," I said, "But I do like you, okay? That's always going to be a thing. For a while. We were good friends."

"It's been a week."

"But a good week, right?"

The city wasn't quiet. The moment we stepped out of the teal tiles of the entrance hall, there was the soft rumble of far off clamor. A couple feet into the city and there was a series of muted gunshots.

"What's going on?" Blake frowned, and sped up his pace a bit. Yeah. Well. Only one thing could be happening next, and I'd made sure to drop several obvious hints about it just ten minutes ago.

The sounds were starting to become more distinguishable. There weren't many people in the streets, and those that were all seemed to be walking in the same direction of us. At one point a small group of soldiers ran past us. The ground shook for a few seconds.

"What's happening?" Blake asked, speeding up. We wove the tangled crowds towards the central square, taking in the smells of extinguished gun smoke.

The square was a mess in just one way- at least the buildings were fine. The people were not. Like scattered rainfall, blood was drizzled and splattered across the square. Bodies, laying like bodies on the concrete, were given the too-red scene the splash of color it needed.

About twenty max were dead, though soldiers were still carrying in new bodies. There was no movement to create neat piles for now- this was an image left to last. The three screens of the square displayed different angles of the massacre. At the far end, surrounded by teal-coated soldiers, was a man.

Blake was unhappy. This was very much an understatement. "I was supposed to be here!"

"Good thing you weren't, huh?"

He looked at me, wobbly and teary-eyed. "Everyone is dead!" He tried to scream it, but his voice couldn't handle the strain, and instead he nearly had to whisper.

He fell to the ground in what I thought was an over dramatic mood. I tried to help him up, and he slapped my hand away.

"Hey. It's fine."

"These were my friends," Blake sobbed. "Jesus fuck."

I sat down next to him. "Hey, you're still alive, and that's good. Come on. They must have warned you rebellion is totally illegal down here, right?"