CHAPTER XXXVII

OCTOBER 27TH, 10:14 A.M.

16 HOURS UNTIL INVASION

RAYSHE

Leaves crunched underneath his boot. The morning air was chilly, mixed with a subtle hint of ash. In the peaceful environment of the forest, one might even forget there was a civil war.

Stones engraved with the names of those passed on were spaced out evenly in rows. The more fortunate were adorned with flowers and properly cleaned. That’s all one could hope for. To be remembered. Rayshe studied some of the gravestones, many of which were illegible. He scoffed at their meagerness. An issue for lesser beings. He will be remembered.

The cemetery was quiet. The occasional bird chirp and a rustle of leaves peeped at most. Empty, for as long as he could see. No time to mourn the dead when you may soon join them.

He was here. Probably found himself a secluded area, away from the setup of graves. He’d want to give her a special resting place. One that was unique and independent. It was just a matter of finding it.

In the clearing where the cemetery resided, the entrance to the woods had a suspicious lane devoid of leaves, like it was cleared away intentionally. Rayshe followed the trail into the trees. That’s where he found him.

Boone stood before a gravestone, lacking allure but holding proper sentiment. It was just a rock. Smooth and hefty, sure, but a rock. The initials M.C. were engraved into it along with birth and death dates. Rather unceremonious, but so were the times.

Boone sensed a presence approaching, evident by leaves cracking. However, he did not react. He remained faced away from him, staring down at the stone. Rayshe made no effort to conceal his approach either. He wanted himself to be heard. He stopped a few feet away from him, allowing him a chance to speak first, which he passed on.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Carter.”

With a simple sentence, the identity to the stranger behind Boone was revealed. He didn’t budge.

“If you’ve come to kill me then get it over with.”

“No,” Rayshe rebutted. “I am not here to kill you.” Rayshe walked closer now, standing directly behind his shoulder. “Despite what you may think of me, I am not a monster. I wouldn’t strike a man while he mourned his love. There is no honor in that.”

Boone huffed, sliding his hands into his pockets, still not turning to face Rayshe.

“Then why are you here?”

“You were a decorated veteran. One that was instrumental in this country’s victory in the Great War. When I hear someone like that has lost their wife, I come to pay respects. When I got the news that Miriam fell ill, it devastated me. It really did. I provided nurses and assistance. As much as I could. Kept a close eye on the situation. My administration informed me of her passing just the other day. I scheduled a flight over here first thing.” Rayshe now leveled with Boone, stepping into his sight. Rayshe could tell he bore a semblance of skepticism.

“I harbor no ill will towards you. My contempt does not reside with you.”

“Who does it then? Tommy?”

Rayshe shook his head slowly. “Yes, it does. I will not lie to you.”

“What about Leo then? Or Laurel?” he pressured him. “Or Frank? Do you want to kill them too?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone, Boone,” he clarified. “In a perfect world, no one has to die. But you and I both know this world is far from perfect. Tommy committed a terrible act of evil against me. Against an innocent little girl. He must answer for it. I don’t wish for more bloodshed than is necessary. But when the day of reckoning comes, tell me who do you think they will support? The father who only wanted a better future for his daughter, or the murderer?” He didn’t answer. Rayshe smirked at his silence. Whether he believed the deceit or not was irrelevant. Boone’s moral compass was destroyed. He was a ball of clay; Rayshe just had to form him to his liking.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m not there,” Boone said, ignoring his question. “In St. Grad.”

“Nothing to wonder,” Rayshe said, gesturing to the stone. “Any man would have done the same. I know I would’ve.” Rayshe knelt to the stone, observing it closer but careful not to intrude on its space. “I will give her a proper gravestone,” he said. “One that honors her in formality and elegance properly.”

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“I don’t want your charity.”

Rayshe nodded and rose to his feet. “Very well. I will respect your wishes.”

They stood in silence, mourning the loss of a great woman. A light breeze would whistle by from now and again, keeping them reminded of the outside world.

“It’s a real shame that this happened,” Rayshe said. “Miriam was a good woman. I had the pleasure of meeting her when you received a bronze medal at the White House, as you know. She didn’t deserve this. Cancer is such a devastating disease. We should have done better.” Boone glanced at Rayshe from the corner of his eye.

“And by we, I mean me. Us,” he continued. “This country failed you. Failed her. It’s a travesty that we have great people falling ill, and there’s nothing we can do to help. There’s too much inaction, too much complacency. We have grown accustomed to dismissing these sorts of things. Saying, ‘that’s how things are nowadays’ when we really should be scraping and clawing to find a way to fix it. A promise I can make to you Boone, is that if I had hold of the reigns sooner, Miriam would still be here right now. I guarantee you that.”

“She seemed to think the same way,” Boone revealed.

“Miriam was a smart woman,” Rayshe said. The skyline of Chicago was just visible through a gap in the forest. In the daytime, you could barely see the pillars of smoke. It might even seem like a normal day.

“You know, I’ve found that, sharing a memory about a loved one helps you associate them with happiness in your mind,” he explained. “Rather than dwelling on the fact that they are gone.” Boone didn’t speak.

“I’ll go first,” Rayshe started. “If you don’t mind.” Whether or not Boone minded was inconsequential as he began the story.

“My daughter, Maggie, when she was about six or seven years old, the exact year is alluding me now, she was doing this play at her school. It was a play they did every year, like a tradition of the sorts. And performing in it was a privilege for the kids that wanted to. First choice went to the older students, the fifth graders and what not. So, Maggie’s first year doing it, she didn’t have a big role. Just a choir singer. But she was petrified. Terrible stage fright. Loved performing and insisted on doing it, but when the lights came on and the curtain parted, she froze.” Boone seemed uninterested, but Rayshe continued anyways.

“I ended up having to stand there with her, in the choir with all the other kids because she was so nervous. I just, held her hand and that’s all she needed. Nailed it. I was so proud of her. Next year comes around, and this time she has a main role in the play. She’s adamant this time that she can do it, no stage fright, no need for papa anymore. So, there I am, front row. The curtains unveil and… she freezes. But I couldn’t sit there and watch it, so I quickly climbed up on stage and stood by her. In the middle of the play.” It seemed as though Boone was coming around, judging by the tilt of his head to listen better.

“She gets going, doing her play, and what makes it better is someone runs out real quick and hands me a copy of the script. It has no lines in it for me, because, you know, I was never supposed to be up there. But at least I know what it is now. So going off of that, I did some improv and turned myself into a character that fit the scene. Didn’t say much, or do much, I let it play out how it was supposed to but gave myself a reason to be there. I’m sure my public speaking experience helped me out a lot. I’ve never seen her happier before. After the play was over, she sprinted to me. Like full, Olympic athlete sprint and jumped into my arms. I’ll never forget that.”

Boone remained quiet. The birds seemed to have enjoyed it based on their incessant chirping.

“If you are expecting me to give my own story-“

“I understand if you don’t,” Rayshe interrupted. “I know it’s all too soon. Her name still stings. Trust me, I get it. I told that story about my daughter to you because I thought it was important that you see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“How am I?” Boone questioned. “How am I supposed to see the brighter side of things when I let her down? How can I share a memory of her when her last memory of me is vicious?”

Rayshe bowed his head. “I understand. I kept putting off seeing Maggie for weeks before she died. Now she’s gone and I’m left with regrets. It’s a terrible thing. You’re searching for a way to redeem yourself now. To redeem your image in their eyes. To redeem your name, collectively.”

“That is my new purpose in this life,” Boone agreed.

Rayshe nodded. “An honorable purpose. One that I am undertaking as well. As I live and breathe, each second is spent towards redeeming myself for Maggie’s death. My failures lead to her getting caught in the crossfire. In that, we can relate. I can’t help but feel responsible for her death. It’s a burden that tears away at my mind and I wouldn’t wish it on anymore. My loved one is in a better place but mired by the prospect of an untimely death because of my inaction, knowing their soul still had so much more time to age. Not very many people have the chance for redemption from something like that. But you do. If there is one thing Miriam would want you to do, it would be to help people. Make it so her fate won’t be shared by another. That no one will receive a diagnosis and be left to die. I wish for a future where we can save Miriam. It may be too late for her, but others will surely follow the same path. There is still hope for them. We are special people, you and me. That gives us a special obligation not to waste it.”

Boone stared off in the distance. His mouth spoke no words, but his brain turned. Rayshe looked down at his feet, shuffling in the fallen leaves as he allowed Boone time to process his words. His deliberation would surely need more time.

“I shall leave you alone,” Rayshe said. “Allow you time to make your farewells to Miriam. But before I leave, I would like to leave you with this.” Boone made eye contact with Rayshe, the first time he’s ever looked his way since he arrived.

“It is a tragedy what happened to your beloved. It should have never led to that. You still have a chance; we still have a chance to make it right and put our loved one’s souls to rest. Your purpose in this life is to redeem yourself to Miriam. To conclude her unfinished business so that she may finally rest.” Rayshe began to turn but stopped and looked back at him once again.

“Think about what she would want.”

Rayshe finished his pitch, giving Boone a cordial nod before walking away. He couldn’t see him, but Rayshe could feel Boone’s gaze, fixed onto the back of his head. He was confused, grappling with two conflicting ideologies, each that he feels, or felt, strongly about. His grief was weaponized, waging a war inside his mind. The seed was planted. Time would tell how it grows inside his mind.