Chapter 100: Epilogue

Years had passed since they first settled down in McGinley, Alex now forty-two, Gunther forty-four, and Jay forty-one. All of them living in a peaceful apartment, Gunther and Alex now married, and gaining a stable life in the city. One day when they were gathered around the television set they saw a news report on Cathair Mara. It was a young, maybe seventeen year old news reporter and she was reporting on the new Queen of the city-state, the last one being killed by a lower and middle-class rebellion. She said that the rebellion was inspired by a contract that was soaked in blood they had found in the sewers, of a revolution just like this one happening only over a decade ago. The new Queen was a blonde girl named Faidh McCarthy, who had joined the rebellion because of a man by the name of Conall Macey that was good friends with her father and was killed heroically during the last revolution. The reporter also mentioned that the young woman was crowned queen for similar reasons. The three smiled as they finally felt the relief wash over them, knowing that those efforts they made all those years ago had finally paid off, that the city-state would finally be able to grow and improve, that their teachings in McGinley they had done for Pete had finally done it’s work to help their dying home. The TV showed footage of the city now, it looked like the first stages of paradise, with the Upper-class taken down and dealt with, the lower-class being offered services to help them for once instead of leaving them as a lost cause, and the middle-class slowly unlearning the sick lies they were taught. Jay was so happy to finally see lower-class kids just like she was getting the hope and support they deserve; something that she longed for ever since her family fell into poverty. Infact, she was so enthralled by the development of the city that she made a vow with herself that many years from then she would return to the city-state.

And she did.

Long after Gunther and Alex had passed, both at the age of eighty-four, Gunther from natural causes, and Alex from liver failure. They were buried next to each other under a willow tree, only a couple feet away from where Pete was buried. She remembered his burial as if it was only yesterday, after they settled down in their apartment they took his body to this field. Gunther and Jay had dug up the grave and placed candles around it to ward off evil spirits, laying him to rest and pulling his hat over his face. Alex folded his arms across his chest, and took out his rosary. He put it into his cold dead hands and cut the string with Jay's switchblade, the beads spilled out over the body.Pete looked like some eldritch angel with his hat seeming like a surreal head of its own, his arms bloody and crossed like a pharaoh, and a cross and beads laying there like on top like he was simply an altar. And there they buried him, Jay carved his initials into a rock and placed it on the soil, and undisturbed and peacefully he remained. Over the years flowers grew, and Jay could see now that his grave was grown with yellow gorse, his grave marker had also grown moss so thick his name was barely legible. She picked a flower for herself and flew off to her home city-state. It only took around two hours for her to fly across the country to the city, the only reason she joined the escape trip many years ago was for the company of her friends. When she entered the city she was instantly hit with the truth that the reporter wasn’t lying about the changes made to Cathair Mara, colorful flowers were flourishing outside of every building, a beautiful bubbling fountain replaced the Haven statue in front of the palace, every street was freshly paved without the grotesque smell of filth and blood, and most of all the malnourished and dying families were gone, none to be found. Everyone looked so overjoyed and full of life in the city, no matter who or where they were. No more were there any trance of golden manors filled with fake laughter from the mouths of secretly unhappy and cruel millionaires, no more gray and stoic stature and standards weighing heavy like a dense fog on the backs of repressed businessmen and their wives, no more were the thousand upon thousands of starving and tortured souls all endlessly packed in the streets with nowhere to go and no one to offer a glint of sympathy, those were now the bygone days of tyranny and misery, a distant memory to those now born and raised in this city. It was better than Jay could’ve ever hoped, although the scars of such dystopian conditions of the past were not lost on her and certainly not on the city-state either, with a statue they built in tribute to all three revolutions and their efforts and eventual triumph. 

Despite being engulfed by the creation of the new golden age of the city, she couldn’t help being reminded of the most important reason she was there. She went to the newly built dam and water filtration system just near the ocean, and climbed over it. There was the calming sway of the waves brushing up on the shore, of the cool breeze hydrating and relaxing her skin, and of the reminder of her insignificance, compared to the vast sea encompassing her view. She knew she was only a couple blocks away from her home, and only a couple blocks away from the prison, so with that she clutched her necklace and transformed. She glided over the muted green waters, a figure skater looking for someone beneath the ice. She searched the entire coast, hoping that maybe, just maybe she could find a glimpse of her for one last time and apologize. Then she found her, there just a mile out from the coast was Hazel, stuck between two sandbanks, staring up from the ocean floor below, Jay and the rebellion’s suspicions correct. Her skin was rotting away now but her eyes were still intact in her sockets. Could she still see her? How long had she been down here? The only thing Jay could do now was mourn, so she did. She shed a tear for her, the ripples of the water obstructing her face for a moment until it was made clear again. Jay saw now how those black tangles of her hair floating all around her face only made the image clearer, her paler vitiligo wonderfully contrasted with the rest of her dark skin, how beautiful she could’ve been, how beautiful she was, and the tragedy that was her far too early grave here in this seabed. She apologized and mourned for the time they could've spent together and the memories they could've made, and flew back over the dam and transformed back.  She looked around at what used to be a lower-class street around her, of course you couldn’t tell now. Although the improvements could easily fool a young one that grew up during the rehabilitation process, she could still remember the broken and boarded up windows, the lifeless bodies and organs scattered about, how dangerous it was to go outside, and the constant fear of whether or not they’d have food on the table for the week. It didn’t take her long to find her home but she was stunned that it was even still there, it had barely changed since she and her family left. With it still very much being a creaky shack made of splintering wooden planks, and ransacked rooms, with graffiti sprayed on the walls from temporary residents prior. Jay couldn’t understand why it was still up, this new city had no use for it, this city hadn't had a use for this house for a long time, and then she saw the plaque. There was a silver plaque, just beside the front door, that was dedicated to her and her family, and was paid for by Tadhg McCarthy. She smiled and entered the house, the old floorboards constantly squeaking beneath her feet and the furniture was mostly gone or laying on the ground. She looked all around as the memories kept coming back to her, the photos hung up on the walls, with her parents holding her tight, the few pieces of furniture that were left she remembered sitting in and playing on, and at last, she came to her childhood bedroom. It was heavily secured with chains and locks, and there were scratches from previous burglars trying to break in. So she got out her pen and picked the locks, pushing open the door so she could squeeze herself in and was suddenly in a nostalgic awe of the room. She at once remembered the comfort in her room, how cozy she was back when she could sleep away her troubles knowing her parents weren’t too far away from her, and then she began to cry at the sight of her old forgotten stuffed plush pig with a lace bow tied around its neck left on her bed. Oh how desperately she missed those days, so many sleepless nights she wished she could be back in this room, and how many times had she cried like she did now? Wishing she was in her parent’s arms to soothe her to sleep, back when a quick sob and a nap could cure all your ills? She took the stuffed pig and hugged it close to her chest, taking it as a comfortable substitute. The thought of death hung in her head for a while as she stroked the matted fur of the pig. She was completely alone now, everyone she’d known was long gone, and what was she to do? She looked around the room once more, and noticed something she hadn’t before. Just outside her door, was a small tin of granular carbofuran. It made sense that some poachers would leave it here since the raptors had begun their return to the city-state, but Jay saw the tin can and a thought crossed her mind that was rather out of character for her. 

Of course, her and Alex had both contemplated suicide after Pete’s death, there was often times where they had seen his reflection in shop windows and puddles on the street, but they had never truly acted out on it. Sure, there were nights that they would find Alex spilled out on the floor of the living room, drunk out of his mind, mumbling about how terrible he felt for Pete’s death, but Gunther and Jay were both there to calm him down and guide him back to reality when these fits happened. And overall they lived a rather pleasant life together in the city, Gunther was an amazing husband and best friend to Alex and vice versa. But she realized that those days were over, for she was a hundred and twelve now, but didn’t look a day over thirty-five. She had many friends and lovers and experiences over the course of her life, and thank God no one had any intent to kill her after the move, but there was only one other way for her to go with the latter out of the way. It had occured to her that it gets tiresome after a while, how much more heartache could she take? And she certainly wasn’t any type of cynic to avoid other people, especially since her purpose required her involvement in humanity, but she felt her journal was filled to the brim of all that had to be said. So what was the point? Her purpose had run its course and been fulfilled, she had no one left to wait for, she had lived to see evils pay their due and good win it's triumph, surely she had overstayed her welcome, hadn’t she? She finally concluded that she had finished, and that here, in her home, in her room is where it should end.She untied her bandana and picked up a couple grains of the pesticide, she knew that was all she needed, and opened her journal to write her final entry. 

“Before I was tossed into the strangeness that is existence  I was informed that to keep watch on humanity was my ultimate duty, And now that my job has been done, and the pages of this book have become worn and well used. I have no longer any use for this life blessed onto me, so after death has run its course, After my hands go frail and my breathes leaves me like a spirit, My final wish is that I am back with those I had cherished the most on this earth,   And that I may be laid to rest in the sea from which I first came.”

And with that, she closed the leather-bound diary, swallowed the black grains, and laid down on her bed to sleep. It only took three minutes, and then she was home.