Everyone’s a Martyr

Chapter 22: For All Have Sinned

Needless to say, fire is uncontrollable.

A small spark can quickly annihilate the greatest of cities.

Just look at Chicago back in 1871.

Or all the forests in California back in 2007.

One spark.

One ill-lit match.

And then…bang.

It applies in a metaphorical sense, too, I guess.

Except… it is a bit more complicated…

The KKPC building, flat on the ground, burning to a crisp, was a beautiful sight. Smoke and ashes rose from the rotting monument of the former dictatorship. Eric looked at the crushed building with glee, eager to continue his journey through the city, and hopefully meet up with his girlfriend, and two other friends who had started it all. It was hard for even Eric to believe that a bunch of enraged, sociopathic teenagers could turn the world upside down with a little elbow grease and a common goal.

I watched my father rub his itching eyes as he took a seat on the sidewalk, back propped up against one of the many decaying apartment buildings. It look like he was deep in thought. About what, I have no idea. I could only speculate that he was thinking about me…maybe the revolution, or even Bo and Pipes.

“Carson, stop rubbing your eyes, you’re just going to make them itch even more.” I told him.

“I’d appreciate it if you actually called Dad.” He yawned, continuing to rub his dried out eyes, “And it isn’t allergies that are making ‘em itch. It’s all this damn dust getting into them.”

I just laughed at him. “Where’s your head? That doesn’t change anything. Allergies or dust, the more you rub it, the more they’re going to itch, dad.” I threw in the ‘dad’ with a sarcastic growl.

He tried to reason with me, saying he deserved some respect from me…even attempting to claim responsibility for the prison escape.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Like hell you did.” I spat at him. He could shove it up his ass. Carson Gold was a lying prick, and we all knew it. He’d been lying to me since he went away to Damasse. I could just tell he was lying about the murders. “Maybe I’d respect you more if you did the courtesy of not lying to my damn face. You killed those people. I know it.”

“I’m not a murderer!” Carson screamed at me.

“Hey, hey, hey, you two!” Dallas suddenly interrupted us, “You’re making a scene. Making us look like a bunch of fucking pussies!”

“Whatever, Dallas.” I said, frowning at him and starting to walk away. And that’s when I saw it, and things began reeling in my mind faster than the speed of sound: Judge Corman sprinting across the street, with a resistance fighter in tow. The fighter was screaming at Corman, saying he was going to shoot if Corman didn’t stop running. I bolted immediately, not planning on letting this opportunity for revenge, and some answers escape me.

“It’s Corman!” I screamed back at my father, trying to clue him in on why I was running off. Quickly, I began to yell out at the resistance fighter. “Don’t shoot him! I’ll get him!” The fighter quickly caught on, and gave up chase, letting me pursue by myself.

Corman ducked into an alley, I think he was planning on hiding or something, but I didn’t give him the chance. I whipped around the corner and dove into him, throwing my shoulder into his back and sending him catapulting to the ground. He skidded across the warm pavement, ripping his clean black slacks to shreds.

“Please, Please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll go quietly!” He sobbed pathetically.

“Coward!” I screamed at him, “Remember me?” He was facedown in the pavement, crying his puny eyes out. “Turn around! Get the fuck off the ground!”

He slowly turned his bald pale head to face me. The moment his eyes made contact with mine I spat in his face hatefully.

“Eric…How did—How did you get out?” He whimpered. As he was speaking, my father came to my side. “Carson…you to? How? How?” He almost demanded from us. But he was in no place to be demanding anything from me, and I let him know that clearly as I pulled my gun, which was tucked carefully under my shirt in my pants at the waistline.

“Please…have mercy on me.”

“Funny.” Carson cackled, “For a second there I thought you said ‘have mercy.’ I don’t think it was that long ago when I was begging the same thing from you. Kill him, Eric. Let him feel the pain we felt. Let him know what mercy’s like.”

“Walk away, Carson.” I said, turning to my father. He was confused at first, and I had to convince him. “I’ll take care of this prick in a second. But I have to know something first. Walk away, dad.” I said the ‘dad’ un-sarcastically this time, hoping to possibly score a point and make him walk away. It worked, and Carson slowly stepped out of the alley and rounded the corner.

“I need some information, Judge.” I said, smiling evilly as I crouched down and looked Corman in the face.

“I’ll tell you anything. Just, please. Let me live…” He begged. I had no intention of letting him live, but I figured I could squeeze the information that I needed out of him if I pretended I would.

“My father. Was he guilty?”

“What? That’s what you want to know? I figured he’d have told you by now.” Corman said, with a sudden shift of attitude. He no longer sounded like a coward, but more like a snake.

“He told me he’s innocent.”

“Well he’s lying to you, Eric. I screened a private taping of one of the killings in the Peoria Factory. I watched with my own two eyes as your father gutted an innocent man.” Corman said. I pressed my gun against his left temple.

“If you’re lying to me I’m going to put a bullet in your brain.” I said, nose to nose with the judge. My dad suddenly rounded the corner, shouting out that Corman was fucking liar and a bunch of other BS. I should have guessed that my father would just go around the corner and wait there.

Without warning, I turned the gun on him.

“What are you doing, Eric?!” Carson screamed at me, genuinely scared. I stood adamant, my back to Corman, and my face to Carson, who was staring down the barrel of my gun. “I’m your father, you have to believe me.

“You…you aren’t my father.” I stammered, the weapon shaking in my hand nervously. I was just about to fire when I felt a powerful blow to my back. My finger closed on the trigger, sending a shot into my father’s neck as I plunged to the ground. Corman had tackled me from behind.

I fought and wrestled the old man off from on top of me. I could hear Dallas and Reese running and screaming towards us, and I battled for control of the weapon. I tossed him to the side, against the alley wall, and quickly brought myself to my feet, gun in hand.

“Fuck you!” I yelled before sending five shots into Corman’s chest. He groaned softly, as I dropped the gun on the ground, and slipped down to my knees in shock.