Chapter 18
Wallace Patel
The thing to
know was what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their
own. - Joseph
Conrad
Wallace
Patel paced in his hotel room and waited for the buzzing to start. He understood what had happened to him quite fully,
at least intellectually, but it did not concern him. He was part of something now, something far
bigger and more important than anything he had ever done as an individual. He silently scoffed at that word: Individual.
As if people weren’t simply colonies of cells. As if they weren’t part of their societal
organisms and collectives. No, the very
concept of the individual was nonsense; a defect in the consciousness that
manifested as ego, a deranged and virulent psychological concept that prevented
a greater understanding of life and purpose.
But, he was beyond even such primitive forms of collectives that
humanity spurned and struggled against and for, wasting time and resources that
could better be utilized. He was with
Them now. And he was glad for it. Humanity had its chance, but did not take it,
but now in a symbiotic relationship with Them … there would be a second chance
at living meaningful lives.
He did not
have to wait long until he heard the buzzing inside his head. He stood still to concentrate on the message
he was receiving. Few had this honor
afforded by Them, direct contact. The
buzzing grew louder and louder to Wallace, but no one else could hear it, even
had they been in the room with him. This
was how They communicated with him. He
was one of the chosen one’s, allowed to retain his mental capacity, to be aware
of their presence inside him. For a
second the racket in his head became nearly unbearable, but Wallace felt this
as intense pleasure, almost orgasmic.
Strange colors, corresponding to none of the known visible spectrum
flashed before his eyes as the searing pain that was the richest ecstasy for
him smashed through the walls of his consciousness.
The message
was received. He knew what he had to
do. Allen had gotten the Brabant to the
chateau. That he had already suspected
after he had lost him. Their enemies had
removed Them from the woman. This he had
likewise guessed. Sooner or later she
would leave the safe confines of Labastide Esparbairengue, and Wallace would be
ready. The vibration emitters that the
enemy had placed around the tiny mountain village kept Them and Their agents
out, but she would leave. They had left
one final command in Brabant’s mind before They were terminated, and it would
seal her fate. Wallace had his
instructions. Nothing was more important
than killing Brabant. Wallace was to
sacrifice himself if necessary, in order to accomplish this.
If only
They had had a strong enough hold on Brabant, and could have gotten the woman
to kill herself in this universe as they had in so many others, such efforts
would have been unnecessary. They had
come close, They assured him … but some part of her individuality had thwarted
Them. Another reason Wallace had come to
hate this defect in his own species. If
people would only just listen to Them, it would be a paradise throughout the
Multiverse. It would still. Killing Brabant was the key to
everything. Wallace would now not fail
Them this time.
He knew
exactly where Brabant would go. They had
seared the image of the ruined castles into her mind, fired the right amount of
dopamine into her brain before the bastards cleared Them out. He would go to Lastours and wait. He walked across his hotel room, opened the
drawer to the bed stand and removed his Glock.
He slid the weapon into his coat pocket and walked to the door. Brabant would die. They would be very pleased with him.
copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt
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