Victor Black - And the Garden of the Gods

Chapter 1: Victor Pays His Respects

Victor Black couldn't believe Kai did it. He would never see him again.

"Once you're gone, there's no coming back." Victor sighed. "Just blackness, man. That's it." He whispered so only Kai could hear.

Inches away, Victor squinted at Kai Kalani's framed high school photo and obituary (ripped from the local paper), mounted atop the Great Church's offering table, next to the day's fresh Communion bread and grape juice. Below the photo rested a golden plate, and a tent card, printed in gold Lemay: DONATIONS FOR THE FAMILY OF KAI KALANI.

Minutes before services started, Mr. Alan Kalani gently tapped Victor on the shoulder. In the man's other hand a small, yellow envelope trembled. It had Victor's name scribbled on it.

"I know you too were ... well, close," said Mr. Kalani, sounding disappointed. He whispered, seeming a bit rushed as the last of the church's parishioners seated themselves, and the pastor overhead cleared his throat. Mr. Kalani's hand trembled. "He left this for you, and I forgot all about it. Here you go. I didn't open —"

"Thank you, sir," said Victor. The envelope felt empty except for a small, flat, solid lump in the corner. It may have also contained a note, Victor couldn't tell.

Victor felt Mr. Kalani's breath heavy on his neck, adding to his anxiety.

"So, tell me," said Mr. Kalani, "several times over the summer before, well, you know... Kai mentioned the two of you had made some pact."

The scent of damp tobacco and stale ale mingled with the heat of the man's breath. Victor wrinkled his face.

"It's nothing, sir," said Victor, dismissing him. "It was just kid stuff. It's pointless now, there's no pact."

Mr. Kalani grunted and mumbled, also staring at Kai.

"I hate that people know what happened," he whispered. "You can't keep a secret around this town—damn paper. I'll probably lose business over this—bet they all blame me." He patted Victor on the shoulder and limped away, taking the smell of degraded axle grease and gasoline with him. Victor heard him mutter as the distance widened: "I just don't get it... He had so much going for him."

Victor had wanted to see Kai's photo one last time before its removal. He stared at his friend, not noticing the boy's perfectly smooth face, but, instead, a thin pink scar cut across his neck, just under his earlobe. Victor traced the same one-inch scar under his own ear with a finger and shuddered.

Behind Victor, a thousand worshipers, finished filling the pews. The mega-church vibrated from tense, fidgeting bodies. Legions of pastel angels gazed from the modern, blue frescoed dome overhead.

A week before, Kai's casket had taken up residence in the same spot Victor stood. New sprays of white lilies, Bird of Paradise, and red hibiscus replaced the previous week's flowers—more like them covered Kai's grave mound in the family's plot at the Valley of the Temples, on the sprawling green windward hills of Kaneohe, Hawaii.

Kai's final story played out in two paragraphs on the Sunday cover of the Colorado Springs Gazette. An older man held it up from his pew as Victor returned to his seat. The paper's headline read: OFFICIAL — STAR HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL PLAYER TAKES LIFE BY HANGING.

Whaling and tears from hundreds of students, parents, and local political figures had permeated the massive cement walls, expansive domed ceiling, and each piece of reclaimed furniture in the Great Church. Victor felt the sanctuary's energy even now, like a suffocating blanket—smothering like the unexplained fog outside.

People entered for this day's service solemn—their heads down. Whispering replaced the previous week's emotional outpouring. Those in attendance struggled to rationalize what had happened two weeks before. The pastor's discouraging, and badly-timed "Series on End Times" dampened the mood.