The moon was no longer the brightest light in the area. All around the harbor, tall floodlights illuminated the work bays, casting sharp contrasts between light and shadow. Billy used the darkness behind a shipping container as cover when he suddenly heard the roar of a helicopter taking off. He couldn’t see much, just blinding lights rising into the sky, but he was certain it was the same black helicopter that had been hovering above him earlier. It had taken off nearby. In all his time working at the solar cell factory, he’d never seen a helicopter in the area, but if they had recently added an air patrol, he definitely didn’t want to get caught. He was trespassing in a restricted zone of the Thandros Corporation. An armored government car sped down the road at breakneck speed, heading for distant Parking Lot 3. What was going on here?
As soon as the car was out of sight, Billy slipped out of the container's shadow. He watched the OCEAN TIANJIN, a massive cargo ship over two hundred meters long, being turned around by a tugboat, fully loaded and ready to set sail for Hong Kong. He continued walking along the docks. It was well past 9 PM, and he could still hear the faint, distant thrum of the helicopter, probably flying somewhere above the cloud cover. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe he was just getting paranoid. In the distance, he could see the massive, futuristic complex of the zero-emissions factory, and farther along the docks, workers stood in the cold, their breath steaming as they huddled against the chill. Then his eyes caught an old man, standing alone with one foot on the edge of the dock, staring out at the dirty waters of the East River, lost in thought, smoking a cigarette.
Billy had always found it strange how people could sense when someone was watching them. How many times had he been on a train or bus, only to meet the questioning gaze of someone he’d been looking at just a moment before? It was like a sixth sense, and it was happening again now, only this time, the consequences would be far greater than the usual awkwardness of getting caught.
The old man, dressed in a long coat and hat that he held onto to keep from blowing away in the wind, slowly turned to face Billy.
He recognized the figure instantly, but he still couldn’t believe it was him.
The mysterious man who had followed him everywhere. The same man who appeared at Times Square shortly after he met X-3-19 on the streets. The one he encountered at his own funeral. And in the end, it was Conrad Blake who handed him his business card. This man always seemed to take on different forms. But now, the man had shed his role as a creepy stalker and stepped into a new one, an enigmatic figure, someone whose intentions you couldn’t quite read. He stood there, against the shimmering waters of the East River, looking at Billy as if he’d been expecting him all along. And maybe he had.
Billy approached the old man until only a few steps separated them. He stopped in a puddle, staring at the face that seemed oddly familiar. And yet completely foreign. Like something you might have seen before. On a walk, at the supermarket, on the subway, or at a funeral.
"Goddamnit," Billy said. "You're the undertaker."
"There are many of us."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
The mysterious stranger didn’t respond. The tip of his cigarette glowed in the darkness as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air. "It’s fascinating," he said.
"What’s fascinating?"
"You," said the stranger, studying him closely. "Would you do me a favor and take off your hood?"
Billy clenched his teeth. He had the creeping feeling that he had become some kind of curiosity for certain men. A living specimen of a rare species, meant to be put on display. Despite his dislike for the undertaker, Billy yanked off his hood. Maybe he wanted to shock him with his appearance.
But it didn’t work.
The wind blew harshly across the East River, and the distant sound of rotor blades above the snow clouds grew louder, sharper, more real. The undertaker shook his head, his gaze fixed on Billy. He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it in a high arc into the harbor basin.
"You want to know what’s happening to you," he said.
Billy gave a hollow laugh. What a question.
"I mostly want to know who I am. Am I Billy Jones?"
"You haven’t been for a long time."
The stranger shoved his hands into the pockets of his long coat and stepped closer to Billy, until they stood face-to-face. Billy instinctively stepped back into the light.
"Haven’t been for a long time? What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you, and why are you following me?"
The glow from the harbor lights gleamed in Billy’s colorless iris. A flicker of anger and desperation. His eyes had changed over time, grown large and round, looking both timid and defiant. Billy stood right on the line between light and shadow. The sharp beams from the floodlights cut across his face.
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"Believe it or not, I’m your friend. And let me tell you something else: you’ve made a lot of enemies, which means you’re going to need me. Us," said the stranger. "It’s important you listen carefully, because you don’t have much time left."
"What do you mean?" Billy stared at him, his eyes cutting through the darkness. His mouth hung slightly open in anticipation of an answer. His breathing was heavy.
"You’re going to die," the undertaker said. "Without help, very soon."
What?!
Inside, Billy was seized with fear, but outwardly, he didn’t move a muscle.
"Your cells can’t handle the rapid changes. Your organs will start to fail. You’re probably already growing tumors inside you. Just like the others who share your fate. You desperately need help."
Tumors? Others who share my fate?
Fear crawled up his spine, nesting in his mind, growing into blinding panic.
"Take it easy, my son," the man said, his voice calm as he tried to steady Billy’s breathing. "It’s not too late."
Billy looked up from the puddle at him. There was a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, a tiny flicker of flame that could all too easily be snuffed out.
"The most important thing to understand is that you need to hurry. That’s why I’m here. To stop you from wasting your precious time on a pointless search. I’m here to keep you from going down the wrong path. I’m here to guide you. And your future."
Billy clenched his jaw tightly. He didn’t even question how this mysterious undertaker knew—knew about his plans, his intentions—he just wanted to know how he could save his life, how to put things back together. But of all the clues in the world that the undertaker could’ve given him, Billy hadn’t expected what came next.
The undertaker said: "Two, seven, six, three, two, five, four, nine, eight, zero, seven, six, three, five, six, four, nine, zero, seven, six, two, three, five."
"What the fuck?!"
"Save your life. Save ours."
"What the...? Is this some kind of joke?! A string of random numbers is supposed to be the big clue to saving my life?"
At that moment, the sky above him split open. The black helicopter was descending. It got closer, stirring up the East River as it came down, and Billy’s jacket hood began to whip wildly in the wind. The undertaker held onto his hat, looking at Billy with a trace of pity in his eyes. He licked his lips and shouted over the roar of the blades: "Do you still have your phone?"
Billy looked at him, confused, patting his pockets with one hand. Torn between answering the question or lunging at the old man’s throat, he finally yelled, "Yeah."
"Good. Make sure it stays on. You’re going to get a message soon. It’s a very important message. You need to follow the instructions."
Once again, Billy nodded, though he hadn’t understood a word. Like a little kid listening to his father, blindly following orders, partly because he trusted him, but mostly because he had no other choice. He didn’t know enough about the world to make his own decisions. The right ones.
"Believe me, I’m not someone who enjoys hiding in the fog of uncertainty. If I could, I’d explain everything to you. But there’s no time. The people responsible for what’s happening to you want you to stay out here on the streets until you drop dead. They’ve already gotten what they want from you. But you need to go to them. You need to face them if you want to save your life—and ours."
Billy squinted against the biting cold wind. The black helicopter was now hovering directly above them. Then it dropped even lower, descending until it hovered just inches off the ground behind the undertaker.
"Were you the one in the helicopter? Did you just arrive in it?"
The well-dressed old man removed his hat, letting the wind ruffle his white hair. A sliding door on the side of the helicopter opened. Billy couldn’t make out who or what was inside, as someone from within aimed a blinding light straight at him. The undertaker turned with a hunched back and walked toward the light until he disappeared into it.
"Will I see you again?" Billy shouted.
"I won’t be coming with you anymore," the old man’s voice called back. "But if fate wills it, our paths will cross again."
Then the sliding door shut, the light vanished, and without any signal lights, the helicopter lifted into the sky and soon disappeared behind the snow clouds.
The undertaker.
The black helicopter.
The whole world.
"Oh, crap," Billy sighed.
----------------------------------------
Without saying a word to Buzz, he slipped under the barrier and took off running. From that moment of sheer despair came a flicker of anger. Anger at everything that had happened to him, and a burning hatred for the men responsible for his pain.
Ssst, ssst!
A sudden buzzing noise cut through his tangled thoughts. He jolted, at first not realizing what the sound meant, but then it came again.
Ssst, ssst!
A vibration, like a dragonfly’s wings brushing against his skin. It finally clicked, and he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket.
Just like the old man had said.
Against the background of the Himalayas on his lock screen, a new text message blinked, the yellow battery symbol glowing like a spaceship in the night sky.
It was from an unknown number.
His heart pounding, he opened it:
I’m not who I pretended to be. I’m sorry. I’ve spent my whole life doing what they asked of me. But now, it’s over. Come find me, and you’ll learn the truth behind their lies. The key to my apartment is under the doormat. I trust only you. Hurry! Now that I’ve contacted you, they’ll know I’ve turned on them. It’s too late for me. But not for you.
X-3-19 (Emilia)
Billy Jones turned off the screen. Her real name was Emilia. The young solar cell technician he’d fallen madly in love with. Was she really in danger? Or was she just crazy? Or was he? Or was she working with the men after him? Was this a trap? Was everyone around him trying to drive him insane?
His heart pounded wildly. But in the rush of urgency, he just stood there, gazing up into the rainy night. The snow along the street was filthy and slowly melting in the rain. What was falling from the sky was a mix of icy drops and soft snow, which melted the moment it hit the ground.
What Billy realized in that moment was as strange as it was unexpected: he wasn’t cold. Even though he was nearly soaked through, and the air had dipped just above freezing. Was this part of his transformation? Or was it that fear and adrenaline had numbed his sense of cold?
He snapped out of his thoughts. If Emilia was truly in danger, he had to get to the bottom of it.
Less than five minutes later, another message came through. He pulled out his phone and began to read:
Even though I used you (because they forced me to) you need to know something:
My whole life was a lie. Like yours.
But even the biggest lie is wrapped around a kernel of truth.
That truth is my love for you.
I know I shouldn’t love.
But I do.
I love you.