Chapter 13

31 years

When I became wealthy and started living a wild life—partying from morning until night, swapping women like socks, buying expensive “toys”—I was 100% sure I’d never get married. Why settle for the same woman every night when hundreds of others were out there?

I lived by this motto for years until I met Ella. With her, everything changed—my desires, my priorities. I wanted her beside me at night, in the morning, at events, and on trips.

After the church incident, I convinced Ella to stay with me to heal her leg. The doctors diagnosed a fracture, advising bed rest. To help her relax, I took her to my private island, offering her the most luxurious experience possible.

I was always by her side, spending all my time caring for her. Over the two months together, I realized she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We grew closer, and the day our relationship deepened became the best day of my life.

I discovered an incredible new feeling—love. I’d never thought it could bring such true happiness to my life.

Six months had passed since I proposed to Ella, and she said yes. A year later, our beautiful daughter Sophie was born. Her arrival shifted my values completely. She became the center of my world, and everything else felt insignificant.

I sold my bachelor penthouse and moved the family to a cozy house in the suburbs. The area was perfect for raising a child, with excellent schools and a healthy environment.

At 31, I outlived my previous life and now navigated uncharted territory, but it didn’t bother me. I no longer needed my old advantage of knowing the future. Instead, I invested in major projects based on experience. Whether in movies or real estate, I’d learned to spot promising ventures. One of my biggest investments was in a futuristic transportation system—an elevated tube for superfast travel at around 1,200 kilometers per hour, cutting travel time between two major cities to 40 minutes.

Even though I was juggling many projects, I reduced my workload to spend more time with my family. I left most decisions to my team, occasionally weighing in. On the eve of Sophie's fourth birthday, I did just that.

We planned to make her birthday magical by taking her to Disneyland Paris. The next morning, our private jet awaited us, ready to fly straight from India, where we’d been vacationing. Joining us on the trip, as always, were three bodyguards and, of course, Greg.

Greg, once just my head of security, has recently become a close friend. We would share beers, watch matches, and talk about anything. His life changed dramatically when he somehow managed to get married while working almost around the clock to protect me. I gifted him a house near mine for his wedding, making me a contender for the best employer ever.

One evening before our flight to Paris, we sat on an Indian beach enjoying beers when Greg revealed he was going to be a dad. I congratulated him, and we clinked our beer cans together.

“It’ll be tough for the first six months, maybe a year,” I said. “After that, you’ll start enjoying it. If you want, I can lighten your schedule for a while. A perpetually sleepy bodyguard won’t help me.”

Greg silently sipped his beer and looked at me with a serious expression, which concerned me.

“I wanted to discuss something about that,” he said.

I sensed the good news was over.

“Just don’t tell me you want to take paternity leave,” I joked.

“It’s different,” he sighed, choosing his words carefully. “My job isn’t the safest in the world. Anything could happen at any moment, and I can’t let my child grow up without a father. My wife has hinted that it’s time for me to change careers. Now she’s insisting.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, unable to believe my ears. “What danger are you talking about? You’ve only drawn your weapon once—at the church—and you didn’t even shoot.”

“I could’ve been in an accident that day, remember?”

“Yeah, we rolled a bit. It was just a minor fender bender. Come on, tell me you’re just messing with me.”

“Leo…”

“Or is this a sneaky way to negotiate a raise? Fine, I’ll double it.”

“That’s not the point…”

“I’ll triple it!” I countered. “I’ll multiply it by ten!”

“I never planned to be a bodyguard forever. You’ve done so much for me; you’re a great guy and probably the best boss ever. You even gave me a house! Honestly, I was stunned. But I can’t stay. No way.”

“Well, what will you do?”

“I’ll start my own business. Something safe, without life risks. I’ve saved up some money for it. I want to raise my kid and spend more time with him.”

On one hand, I understood Greg; I too tried to be there for my family as much as possible. On the other hand, where would I find such a competent head of security and good friend all in one?

“Yeah…” I sighed. “I knew you’d eventually grow old and barely drag yourself around, and that I’d have to let you go. But this early…”

Greg laughed.

“I’ll fly to Paris with you. And when we land…” He paused, raising an eyebrow in guilt. There was no need to finish; I understood.

I leaned back in my chair and took a long sip from my beer.

“If you ever need help,” I conceded, “any kind, just ask without hesitation.”

“Thanks.”

“And I’ll need a good replacement.”

“I’d recommend Karl.”

“Who’s that?”

“He’s been your bodyguard since day one…”

We continued drinking beer, discussing Karl, football, and even parenting, until Sophie insisted that I read her a bedtime story. I was sure Ella had something to do with that.

I said goodbye to Greg and went to fulfill my fatherly duty. A happy child makes a happy parent. Tomorrow promised to be one of Sophie’s happiest and most memorable days, which meant it would be for me too.

***

Masud was intently watching passersby from his scooter, parked near the local market. He had been looking for his next victim for an hour now, the third in a row. His previous two attempts had gone perfectly; he had acted swiftly and vanished without a trace. He wished he didn't have to do this, but he saw no other way. He needed to feed his wife and two children, especially after losing his job recently. After several years of driving a taxi, he had been in an accident two months ago—not his fault—where he collided with the police chief's brand-new BMW, which led to the revocation of his license.

Finding a new job without an education or connections proved impossible for Masud. After spending almost all his savings on the BMW's repairs, his family’s financial situation worsened significantly. They were struggling even to buy food. Life had driven him to desperate measures.

He noticed a woman exiting the market, having just purchased a souvenir, and she was putting her thick wallet into her purse. A tourist—exactly what he needed. With money. If she was American, like his previous two victims, then it would be American dollars! She wasn't hanging her purse on her shoulder but carrying it in her hand—perfect.

Masud started his scooter, believing in his planned success; after all, his name meant "lucky." He would succeed again. The woman walked towards the road, and Masud "hit the gas." He had a fast, unregistered vehicle, and she wouldn’t catch up to him or see his face under the helmet. He was confident he could pull this off.

He sped up to 40 kilometers per hour, raced past the woman, and with a quick motion, snatched the purse from her hand. In his rearview mirror, he saw her screaming and gesturing for help, but who would care?

It worked! Now, for at least two or three weeks—if not more—his family wouldn’t starve, depending on the money in the wallet. The tourist wouldn't suffer, and he would leave her purse at the police station in case it contained important documents. He only needed the money.

As Masud sped through the city, he reflected on how lucky he truly was. His parents had given him a great name; it helped him survive. How much money was in that stolen wallet? It looked thick, with plenty of banknotes—he could tell from afar.

He was so thrilled with his success and lost in thought that he didn't notice the red light. He didn’t slow down, just like the taxi that came flying around the corner.

The impact was devastating. The scooter was thrown about 50 meters, and Masud left a significant dent in the taxi's windshield with his body. He flew over the car and landed on the asphalt, breaking half his bones and snapping his neck. The contents of the stolen purse scattered everywhere.

The wallet landed five meters from Masud's face, positioned such that his open eyes stared lifelessly at it.

The body of the deceased was taken to the morgue. No identification or mobile phone was found, making it impossible to notify relatives. The morgue worker left Masud on the gurney, covered with a sheet, and continued working on another corpse.

Ari, the spirit of the unfortunate thief, left his body immediately after his neck broke. Over an hour had passed since then, and during that time, he had patiently waited, watching Masud and hoping for solitude.

Though Ari had the power to disregard many laws of the universe, he avoided drawing attention to the suddenly revived corpse. He waited for thirty minutes, hoping the morgue worker would step away for a moment, but the man showed no sign of leaving.

Time was running out; the day was nearing its end, and no other fresh bodies were nearby. Although there were other corpses in the morgue, they were either locked in freezers or had open chests. Using such a body wasn’t a problem for Ari, but it would take extra time to stitch up the skin.

Resigned to the morgue worker’s presence, Ari grew tired of waiting and began to act. One witness was no problem. Witnesses always reacted the same way—either fleeing in fear or fainting. Only the bravest tried to help the revived corpse. Ari would stop this with a swift and precise blow to the ear.

Without wasting another second, he did what he had come to do. He entered Masud’s body and took control. Ari greedily inhaled through his mouth and exhaled loudly through his nose. He always did this to make the lungs work again.

The morgue worker turned at the noise and froze in horror. Before his eyes, the body, which had just a second ago been lifeless, sat up. The sheet slipped from Ari's head as he began to reposition his twisted neck and fix the fractures in his chest, arms, legs, and spine. It took him exactly ten seconds to restore the body to a state suitable for movement. Once fully in control, he turned to the astonished worker.

The only thing that revealed the presence of the otherworldly being in Masud were his eyes. The pupil, once black in life, and the iris, once blue, now merged into a single circle, shimmering with a bright red flame. Ari's fiery gaze intensified the worker's fear. His brain demanded an urgent reboot; his legs buckled, and he collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

The poor man's fainting worked to Ari's advantage. To leave the morgue, he needed clothes, and the size of the worker's uniform might fit him perfectly. He got off the gurney, confirmed his assumption, and began to undress the unconscious body. At the same time, he resolved another problem—he found a wallet with cash and credit cards in the man's pants. Now he wouldn't have to waste time searching for a victim to rob. The money would come in handy, as the next item on his agenda was shopping.

Ari exited the room wearing the doctor's coat, lowered his gaze, and left the morgue building without a hitch. No one paid him any attention, not even the guard at the entrance.

He loved his job, enjoyed emerging from the shadows, and relished killing his target along with anyone else necessary to reach that goal. He was one of the few authorized to meddle in the fates of people, capable of destroying even lives destined for long-lasting happiness. He would do anything to achieve his objective.

Ari headed to his planned location, buying sunglasses on the way to avoid drawing attention to his unusual eyes. He entered a gun store, pointed out the desired pistol, added bullets and a silencer, and paid with the morgue worker's credit card before leaving. The future legal troubles for the card's owner were of no concern to him.

Ari knew where to find his target at any moment and could track them as if guided by an in-built navigator in his head. The person he needed was nearby, just a 10- to 12-minute walk away.

As he approached his target, Ari found himself on the beach. He concealed himself in the darkness and began watching two men. They were relaxing on sun loungers, chatting, and drinking beer. One of them was the one. Ari could have shot him from his hiding spot, but he was used to acting more reliably to ensure success. The other man had a gun strapped to his ankle, which meant he probably had another one at his waist. If Ari missed now, the second man could return fire. And if he shot first at the second, the victim would use his weapon. No, shooting from a distance was not an option. A miss was unacceptable.

Ari saw a little girl run out of the house and run up to the victim. She took her father by the hand and led him away. They entered the house accompanied by armed guards. Ari realized that getting close to the victim wouldn’t be easy; he was being protected. And it seemed one of the guards had stayed on the beach. Here was his ticket to completing the mission. There was no one else around, so he needed to act immediately; there might not be another chance.

Ari emerged from his hiding place and headed toward him. Greg, having said goodbye to Leo, stayed behind to finish his beer and was about to leave when he saw a stranger approaching, waving at him.

“Excuse me, could you tell me the time?” Ari asked as he got close.

“Yes, of course,” Greg replied, looking at his wristwatch.

But he didn’t have time to respond. Taking advantage of Greg not looking at him, Ari pulled out his gun and fired two bullets into his heart. The silencer muffled the shots, and the casings fell silently into the sand. Greg made no sound, collapsing dead on his back.

Ari quickly grabbed him by the legs and dragged him along. Without a hint of remorse, he took a man’s life, knowing that he could have lived to old age and fathered three more children. But Greg was necessary for achieving an important goal. Everything else was insignificant.

It was time to switch to a more suitable vessel. Masoud had fulfilled his role.

***

One of Leo's guards had been banging on the door for a whole minute. Finally, Greg opened it, dressed in a suit and wearing sunglasses on his nose.

“We're late, boss,” the guard said to Greg. “Did you sleep in?”

Ari, occupying Greg's body, didn’t need sleep. He had patiently sat in the chair of his hotel room all night, waiting for morning. At first, he thought about charging in, shooting everyone in his path in hopes of reaching Leo. Then he decided that the chances of success in that case were extremely low, so it was better to wait. In the morning, he would take advantage of the opportunity to meet the victim face to face.

“Where’s Leo?” Greg asked as he stepped out of the room and walked down the hallway with the guard.

“He should already be in the car.”

Upon exiting the hotel, Greg saw Leo just getting into an SUV. One of the guards followed him and slammed the door shut. Greg approached the SUV, confident that he could carry out his plan inside. Being this close to the victim, the chances of success were 100%. Even if he were immediately shot afterward, it didn’t matter. If no one else did it, Ari would blow his own brains out to escape from someone else's body and leave this world.

“Hey, boss, where are you going?” suddenly called a subordinate. “We’re in the first car.”

The guard pointed to the vehicle parked in front of the SUV. Greg stopped, hesitated for a moment, but decided not to rush things. He would wait until they got to the airport, and there he would catch the right moment.

“Everything okay?” the guard asked with concern when he and Greg got into the car. “Remember, we check the plane before boarding?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Greg replied curtly.

“Did you drink too much yesterday?” the guard smiled, turning the key in the ignition. In his opinion, the boss was hiding red, swollen eyes behind his sunglasses; otherwise, why had he put them on back in the room?

Stolen story; please report.

Greg turned his head to him and looked with a serious expression on his face. Wiping the smile away, the guard interpreted this as an order to shut up and stick his assumptions somewhere far away.

The trip went by in relative silence—if the guard occasionally allowed himself a comment or two, Greg didn't say a word. Upon arriving at the airplane, he was the first to exit the vehicle and immediately fixed his gaze on Leo.

“Boss, are you coming?” the subordinate addressed him again.

And now he wouldn’t be able to get close to the victim. There were too many obstacles in the form of armed guards. He could shoot them all along with Leo; he had the authority to do so. But what would his colleagues in the profession say? “Very dirty work,” “unprofessional,” “sloppy.”

If in the last millennium it was normal to wipe out hundreds for the death of one, now it was a different time. The world population had grown to 7 billion, and Ari had more competitors. A sort of professionalism ranking had emerged, which one needed to adhere to in order to stand out from the crowd—be the best. Ideally, this meant only killing your target, with no collateral deaths. The fewer the collateral deaths, the more respect from competitors. The higher the reputation, prestige, and ranking.

Right now, Ari was fighting for a place in the top three. This meant he had to act more cautiously with Leo, waiting for the perfect moment. Even if it meant boarding a plane and ascending to an altitude of 10,000 meters—Ari was ready for that. He didn’t care where he killed, on the ground or in the sky.

The inspection of the plane took only ten minutes. After that, Leo, along with his family and the rest of the security detail, boarded. The bodyguards, along with Greg, settled into their assigned seats in the center of the aircraft, while Leo, with his wife and daughter, secluded themselves in the rear—in a private room.

Greg fastened his seatbelt and remained still until the plane took off and reached a stable altitude. When the “fasten your seatbelts” sign turned off, Ari firmly decided it was time to pay Leo a visit and finally settle this matter. He stood up and approached the door behind which his target was located.

“Leo asked not to be disturbed during the flight,” one of the guards said.

Greg tried to ignore him and tugged on the handle anyway, but the door was locked. The constant obstacles were starting to irritate him. Ari couldn’t remember a time when something as trivial as a door had previously stopped him from getting what he wanted. He calmly turned around and headed back to his seat.

The guards exchanged worried glances. They had never seen such strange behavior from Greg before. One of them stood up and called to the head of security before he could sit down.

“Greg,” he called and approached closer.

Ari felt an unpleasant premonition. He slowly turned to the guard, ready for any outcome.

“Are you okay?” the guard spoke quietly. “Do you feel alright?”

“I’m fine,” Greg replied. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re acting a bit strange. You’ve been silent the whole time, and you’re not taking off your sunglasses on the plane. Did something happen?”

“No,” Greg replied after a moment of pause.

“Come on, we’re all friends here. We’ll always help you, you know. Did you drink too much yesterday and now you feel lousy?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“It’s just childish nonsense,” the guard sighed and boldly took Greg’s glasses off.

Ari didn’t resist and simply allowed himself to enjoy the reaction of those present. He hadn’t planned to take their lives, but he was used to making instant adjustments to his plans. Yes, his ranking could suffer significantly, but there was nothing he could do about that.

The guard stared at him in astonishment, looking into his fiery eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you…?”

Greg suddenly placed his left hand on the guard's shoulder, drew his pistol with the silencer with his right, and shot him twice in the chest. He then pushed the body aside and, in a fraction of a second, fired two shots at his colleague. They barely had time to react before the bullets pierced their hearts. Greg held the slain guard to prevent him from making too much noise as he fell. Gently lowering him into a seat, he approached the door and knocked.

“I told you not to disturb me!” Leo shouted from the room.

The armored door made it impossible to break in; even a grenade wouldn’t breach it.

Ari could keep knocking until someone opened up, but he figured the bodyguards wouldn’t allow such persistence. Such insistence could raise the victim’s suspicions, and that was unnecessary.

Ari wasn’t in a hurry. He had eliminated all the main obstacles; now he just needed to wait for the door to open. Sooner or later, Leo would come out of the room, even if it was after the plane landed. And then nothing and no one would prevent Ari from taking his life.

There was no need to wait for the landing. The door opened after four hours of flight. Ella emerged from the room with a cup in her hand. She walked between the seats, noticing the guards wrapped in blankets with pillows tucked under their heads. It looked as if they were peacefully sleeping in a sitting position. Ari had done well, and it looked quite plausible. If he had left the bodies as they were, Ella might have figured everything out immediately and quickly locked herself back in the room.

No, he definitely wouldn’t kill her; he had already overdone it with that aspect. Let her pass by.

“Wow, everyone has settled down for a nap,” Ella said.

“They worked all night, they’re tired,” Greg replied, turning around.

“Did they work hard?” Ella smiled. “We’ve got a faucet that won’t let water through; can I use your cooler?”

“Of course.”

Ella walked past Greg and disappeared behind the partition. He glanced at the open door behind him, where Leo could be seen busy with something. This was it—the 100% chance of success. The time had come.

Greg stood up and hurried toward his target. He entered the room and noticed little Sophie drawing in a coloring book. She also glanced at him before returning to her activity. Leo was sitting in a comfortable chair, engrossed in his laptop on a special stand. Greg approached him within arm's reach. For a while, Leo didn’t pay him any attention, but then he finally looked up.

“Is something important, Greg?” he asked.

The pistol was conveniently positioned under Greg’s jacket on the left side. It took him exactly half a second to draw it and aim it at his target. A flash of horror crossed Leo’s eyes. For the first time in his life, he was truly scared, but not for himself. Just a couple of meters away was his little Sophie, and he couldn’t protect her. Neither her, nor his wife, nor himself. Absolute helplessness.

The shot from the pistol occurred immediately after the sound of shattering dishes. The killer's hand jerked—the bullet pierced the back of the chair just beside Leo's head. Ella had silently approached from behind and struck Greg over the head with a cup. The blow nearly knocked him off balance, but he quickly straightened up. Leo acted even faster. He instantly leaped up from his seat, lunging at his former friend. He pushed the gun-wielding hand aside, barreling into him with his body and practically carrying him out of the room.

They fell to the floor between the chairs with the dead bodyguards. Greg fired wildly while Leo slammed his hand against the chair, trying to disarm him. On the fifth strike, he succeeded. He forcefully headbutted Greg in the face. Then again, and again. Greg's nose cracked, and his glasses flew off.

Leo suddenly froze, staring in astonishment at Greg's unusual eyes. He remembered seeing something similar before, just a different color. With that came the realization that this was not Greg in front of him. Someone else was inside, like a parasite, controlling the lifeless body of his friend and bodyguard.

Taking advantage of the brief pause, Greg regained his focus and kneed Leo in the groin. Then he quickly freed his hand and delivered a punch to Leo's jaw. Leo was knocked aside, and Greg grabbed him by the shirt and threw him over his leg.

Despite the sharp pain, Leo immediately got back up. Greg lunged under the chair for the pistol when he received a kick to the chest. Dodging Leo's right hook, Greg tackled him to the ground. He furiously pounded the pinned opponent, who barely managed to cover his head.

Ella, having hidden her daughter behind the far chair in the room, noticed her husband's dire state. She turned to Sophie.

“Stay here, my little one, don’t go anywhere, okay? Mommy will be right back.”

Ella kissed the girl on the forehead and dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Like a beast, she jumped onto Greg's back, clawing at his eye with one hand while digging her nails into his throat with the other. She tried to pull the killer away from her husband. Leo, seizing the opportunity, attempted to escape from beneath him. He only succeeded when Greg distracted himself with Ella and flung her backward.

Back on his feet, Leo charged at Greg with his knee aimed at his chest. However, Greg intercepted his leg, lifted Leo a meter into the air, and hurled him against the far wall. He dashed toward him to finish the job, but Leo proved quicker. He deftly ducked under the blow, circled around Greg from behind, and expertly twisted his arms.

The killer struggled with all his might to free himself from the iron grip. He thrashed from side to side, but Leo clung tightly to his back.

“Get the gun!” Leo shouted to his wife.

Greg painfully pinned him against the entrance door.

“Under the chair, grab it!”

Ella fell to the floor in search of the weapon. Almost immediately, she spotted it. Greg charged once more and pressed Leo against the door again. The impact weakened Leo's grip. The killer slammed the back of his head into Greg's nose and managed to break free completely.

Ella stood up with the gun in hand, ready to shoot, but Greg turned just in time, positioning Leo's body in front of him. He forcefully smashed Leo's head into his nose, causing Leo to become even more disoriented.

Ari found himself in a disadvantageous position. His mission was on the brink of failure. His brain quickly ran through a dozen options to avoid dying before Leo. A suggestion came from his own hand, which he was resting on the door lever. There it was—the perfect solution.

With a swift movement, Ari turned the lever. Ella darted aside to aim better, but Leo still shielded the target. Another pull, and the door crashed open outward. The plane shook, and Greg wrapped his arms around Leo's neck, looking arrogantly over him at Ella.

“No!” she screamed in horror, but she couldn’t shoot. She was too afraid of hitting her husband.

With victory in his eyes, Ari took a step back. Dragging Leo with him, he tumbled out of the airplane.

***

MOTHER OF GOD!!!!!

That was my first conscious thought after I opened my eyes and saw the rapidly spinning sky. Cold air was beating against my back, my ears were seriously blocked, and my face throbbed from the blows I received from Greg. All this was nothing compared to the fact that I had…

FALLEN OUT OF A GODDAMNED AIRPLANE!!!

Nearby, Greg was spinning in the air, also starting to regain consciousness. Or rather, it wasn't Greg; it was something living inside him. My friend was no longer alive, and that was truly terrible. But what was even worse was that I would soon join him. Unless, of course, I figured out how to grow wings before turning into a pancake.

I tried to push away the panic and engage my brain. The plane was flying at an altitude of about 10 kilometers. This meant that after falling out of it, Greg and I had lost consciousness due to hypoxia. If we had come to now, it meant we were at an altitude of about 6 kilometers. So, we had roughly 2 more minutes of falling. It wasn't in vain that I studied the theory before my first parachute jump!

I tried to concentrate on solving the problem at hand. What were my options?

a) Make a parachute out of my shirt and underwear. No.

b) Call someone to quickly stretch a huge net below. If only I had three hours!

c) Scream at the top of my lungs and pray to God – that seemed like the most reasonable option.

But no, there was an even better solution! A perfect way to end my life with dignity when the situation is truly hopeless. To accept it… and find the strength to enjoy the last moments. That’s how I planned to proceed.

10 seconds – the flight is great.

Whatever is inside Greg has outplayed me. It has taken away my chance to enjoy family life and raise my beloved daughter. I will become a baby again, become rich again, and I will get them back. I will definitely get them back. Next time, I will try hard not to let Greg die, and I won’t die by his hand either.

20 seconds – the fall is cold but bearable.

How disappointing that I lived just one year longer than the first time. I learned too little about the future. But life has been rich, overflowing with events; there will be plenty to tell Ella when we meet again. Damn, I’ll see her in just six months! My own mother will introduce me to my future wife when she’s still in diapers.

I looked at Greg. He was falling ten meters to my left and keeping his glowing eyes fixed on me. Apparently, he was making sure I would reach the ground safely.

I turned to face downwards, hoping to take in the surrounding views, but immediately gave up on that idea. The air was hitting my eyes with such force that I could barely open them. It’s a shame I didn’t bring my glasses. I had to lie back down again.

30 seconds – the fall is going smoothly.

I looked up at the clear blue sky and imagined the higher powers sitting up there, watching me and laughing uncontrollably. And the loudest laugh is probably coming from Rion. Maybe he sent a pawn to deal with me. He decided to punish me for not listening to him. Perhaps in their understanding, they haven’t killed anyone, since I will be reborn, and in my new life, everyone will be alive and healthy again.

But if this isn’t their doing, then they can go to hell. What right do they have to call themselves all-powerful if they can’t even help me? Not just anyone, but a person from the "White Archive," on the most important mission on Earth. I’m not hoping for a huge magical hand coming down from the sky to catch me mid-fall. But a parachute catching up to me would be very timely.

For a moment, it really felt like I could see him. Maybe my head was really spinning, or I was starting to confuse reality with my desires. Or perhaps these were just ordinary pre-death hallucinations. But definitely not a miracle; miracles don’t exist.

40 seconds – the fall is going smoothly and without complications.

I was watching something that strongly resembled a backpack with a parachute. The mirage wouldn’t fade away; it only got closer and closer. It was practically chasing me. I rubbed my eyes, but the backpack didn’t disappear. With each passing second, my hope grew stronger that I wasn’t losing my mind and was indeed seeing what I was seeing. And then, I finally believed it…

A PARACHUTE IS FLYING BEHIND ME, MOTHERF***ER!

Miracles don’t happen, but there are damn smart wives! How lucky I was that my Ella was one of them. She knew where the parachutes were kept. After being on the run for eight years, she had learned to make quick and correct decisions in extreme situations. She didn’t hesitate and did the one thing that gave me a chance of salvation – she threw the backpack after me.

Screw you, Rion!

I took a brief rest; now it was time to move.

50 seconds – time to save my skin.

There was just over a minute left – more than enough time for a game of tag. The first thing I needed to do was slow my descent to hasten my encounter with the parachute. The brightest idea that came to me was to unbutton my shirt, turn face down, and spread my arms out to the sides. So that’s what I did. With the increased air resistance, I was able to slow my speed a bit, which left Greg completely bewildered.

Falling faster than I was, he began scanning the sky until he found the reason for my actions. Without hesitation, he took a cue from me, flung open his jacket, and “lay” flat.

I twisted my head up and, from the corner of my eye, watched the parachute, adjusting my approach. I was doing quite well; I had practiced a lot in my time, pretending to be Superman.

65 seconds – just a little longer, and I’m saved.

The backpack was insistently wanting to be on my back, and I couldn’t refuse it. Ten meters to the target. Five. It flew in really close; the moment was more exhilarating than my first kiss. I managed to twist and grab its strap. For a brief moment, I felt an incredible relief – I had plenty of time to pull it on and deploy it.

But the joyful moment was cut short by Greg. He literally crashed into me like a cannonball. He wrapped his arms around me and knocked the backpack from my grip. We began to spin – the ground and sky were swapping places in a nauseating blur. I started punching Greg with my fists and elbows, hitting him in the head and ears. When he decided to cover himself with one arm and loosened his grip, I kicked.

The creature lurking in my friend’s body felt pain too. I hit it with everything I had, and eventually, I got my way. Greg momentarily detached from me, giving me a chance to land a final right hook to his nose.

He flew off a fair distance, but it was too early to celebrate. I stopped spinning and began scanning for the backpack. The wind in my eyes made this process quite challenging; however, I got lucky. I spotted it below – it was my turn to catch up.

80 seconds – I’ll make it! I’ll definitely make it!

This time, to gain speed, I pressed my arms to my sides, kept my legs together, and shot toward the target like a “soldier.” I almost blindly sped through the air, slicing through it with my face, and clamped down on the parachute with a death grip.

Putting on a parachute while in freefall is no easy task. I managed to get one arm through pretty quickly, then “laid” on my back and struggled with the second.

100 seconds – the parachute was on!

I tightened both straps and clicked the chest buckle into place. I didn’t bother putting my legs into the harness loops—there was no time. The ground was rushing up fast, and I had about 20 seconds left, no more. It was time to pull the cord.

Feeling lucky, I had completely forgotten about Greg. But he hadn’t forgotten about me. Diving down, he painfully crashed into me again, grabbed my legs, and spun us around. I didn’t dare open the parachute in that position, especially with the extra weight. Greg climbed up me with two swift movements, aiming for the chest buckle.

110 seconds – almost at the ground!

So close to success, I couldn’t afford to lose. I grabbed his hand, stopping him from reaching the parachute. I kicked him in the stomach with my legs, grabbed his other hand.

A few seconds left till the end!

An idea popped into my head. I pulled his arms away from me, planted both feet on his chest, and desperately pushed off. He grabbed onto my toes, but I immediately pulled the cord.

The reserve parachute opened about 50 meters above the ground, sharply slowing me down mid-air. Greg’s grip couldn’t hold, and he plummeted. A second later, he was splattered across the ground like a blotch of ink.

Looking at what was left of my friend was unpleasant, but I hoped that whatever had been controlling his body hadn’t survived the fall. I sighed in relief, lifted my head, and mentally thanked Ella. Incredibly, I had survived even this ordeal, all thanks to my wife. Somewhere up there in the sky, she was surely already doing everything she could to make sure I’d be found and picked up soon. All I had to do was wait for her to rescue me again.

Landing softly, I dropped the backpack. Greg lay motionless 20 meters away. I decided not to go near him and, just in case, to walk as far in the opposite direction as I could. If he suddenly got up and started limping after me like a zombie, the extra distance would work in my favor.

My throat was parched—some water would be great right now, as well as a phone to call someone and give my location. But there was another “pleasant” surprise waiting for me. There was absolutely nothing around. A vast desert, or rather a steppe, stretched out for miles in every direction, with no sign of civilization anywhere. What an incredibly “lucky” day!

***

For three hours now, I had been trudging through the unchanging landscape, filled with dry grass and shrubs. I never would have thought that in my perfect life, I’d be dying of thirst. I guess I was lucky that the heat wasn’t unbearable, if I could even call it luck.

The horizon still offered no hint of a town or even a village nearby. Every five minutes, I looked around, hoping to see a helicopter flying toward me or an off-road vehicle speeding my way. But nothing.

I thought a lot about Greg, and the more I dwelled on it, the more I was convinced that he died because of me. It was my fault that his wife would now have to raise their child alone, a child who would never know their father. And how could she possibly explain the circumstances of his death? That something had possessed him, trying to kill me? Nonsense.

I tried once again to come up with a logical explanation for what had happened. If the killer wasn’t sent by Rion and his superiors, then who? Those who, according to the Bible, dwell below, beneath the earth? What would be the point of that if my name is in the "archive," and they wouldn't get my soul anyway? I would just start a new life, and they’d gain nothing from it. And why now, after 31 years of living?

I wouldn't mind meeting with Rion again to have a talk about all this. If I manage to get out of here.

I was scanning the surroundings once again when suddenly... I saw a vehicle in the distance. Hoping it wasn’t a mirage, I threw my hands up and started shouting. I yelled long and loud, waving my arms over my head, until the vehicle changed direction and headed toward me.

They noticed me! I was saved!

I doubted this was the search team Ella had arranged, but what did it matter? As long as they gave me water and let me make a call, I didn’t care who they were. I was happy to see anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

When the vehicle pulled up and came to a sudden stop, my joyful smile turned to confusion. Four men with automatic rifles jumped out, instantly aiming at me. They were shouting something in their language, so I raised my hands just to be safe. One of them, seemingly the leader, approached me.

"American?" he asked with a thick accent.

Admitting to that didn’t seem like a good idea, even if I had been American. Something told me these guys didn’t have much love for them. I needed to come up with something neutral, and fast.

"Swiss," I replied.

The leader grinned as if I had just told a funny joke. His friends joined in the laughter. With a swagger, he walked right up to me.

"No," he said. "You’re American."

The leader suddenly turned around and barked an order in his language. His men charged at me, waving their guns, pointing them at me and the ground. I took that as a strong suggestion to get on my knees. Refusing wouldn’t be polite, so I complied.

To the nearest terrorist—or at least, that’s what I assumed they were—my actions weren’t enough. He swung the butt of his rifle into my nose, knocking me to the ground.

How much more of this? My poor nose—how hasn’t it fallen off by now?

They flipped me onto my stomach, pressed a knee into my back, and tied my hands. Then they pulled a bag over my head, dragged me into their jeep, and drove off to who knows where.

It seemed like this day was payment for my long, beautiful, and carefree life. They kept me for several hours in some kind of shed, my hands and feet tightly bound. The leader proudly announced that he was going to execute me to teach my country a lesson. And while he prepared his speech and charged the camera, he generously gave me some time to mentally prepare for my demise. How gracious of him.

And this was the second time today. I survived all of Greg’s efforts only to end up dying at the hands of terrorists. "Luck" just kept following me.

Having ruled out all possibilities of escape, I was once again forced to accept the inevitable. Once those bastards had finished their preparations, two of them came for me, tossed me into a jeep, and drove me far into the desert. That’s where they planned to leave me for the scavengers.

They made me kneel next to the leader, who spent a good 10 minutes complaining to the camera about how "my country," "my president," and specifically I had made his people suffer. He threatened to wipe out everyone he could catch until they, the innocent and oppressed, were left alone.

He rambled on about many things, holding the gun meant for me. Behind the camera, his smug lackeys were eagerly awaiting the spectacle. I looked at them and thought about how in my next life I’d spend a fortune on missiles and drop them on their heads. I made sure to memorize the license plate on their car so I could track these bastards down.

The leader finally wrapped up his tedious speech, reloaded the gun for show, and pressed it to my temple. Once again, I was about to die from a bullet to the head—what a cruel fate.

"Allahu Akbar," said my executioner.

"Go to hell," I replied.

Bang.