They put a dark hood over his head, and then he heard the sound of the engine, and felt the movement. He remembered meeting Pablo, and hearing about his dream. Well, that certainly hadn’t sounded like regression. The poor boy had sounded more like a prophet. And maybe he was. What if they had killed a prophet? Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Pablo.
Someone grabbed his arms and pulled them behind him. He felt something being wrapped around his wrists, his arms were no longer extensions of his body. It’s just as Pablo had described. He heard several people talking at once but didn’t understand their language. There was no reason to fight, this was going to happen. He was resigned to it, he knew he could do nothing to stop it.
His thoughts wandered to David Moss once more. Will he go on as Jeremy or will he be Quinton? And is he capable of reasoning anymore? He heard guns in the distance, and then more of the same sounds in retaliation. A battle, the fireworks.
What should he expect? If Mickey is really an angel, will I have to see him again? He hoped not, that just didn’t sound pleasant to him. Well, David Moss had won. I screwed up with that knife episode, threatening him instead of comforting the man. One lousy mistake, and here he was, ready to die and be thrown into the sea. The next thought made him cringe. Will I see Pablo? Will I have to see that poor boy again? The rapid sound of the fireworks made him shutter.
The boat reduced its speed while passing through the vessels that were anchored in the sea, full of people watching the show. He heard angry shouts from the other boats. His thugs and their boat must have disturbed their event, or maybe their view. He realized that was a crazy notion, the show was in the sky, there was no blocking that. It must have been the wake they’d caused. Yes, of course. He felt his senses dim, maybe this is what happened to one who was minutes from death. Perhaps it was a wonderful feat of God to make it less painful. They finally passed through the parade of boats, and he felt the new acceleration and the breeze against his hood.
He took deep breaths, and smelled the sea in spite of the awful cover. He digested its scent and tried to taste the air. So this is it. So this is what death feels like, cramming the smells and tastes and memories through our last thoughts. He could feel the boat slowing down, and then come to a complete halt.
In spite of his brave feelings he’d felt the past few minutes, he began to feel his rapid heartbeat, and wanted more time. He would have given these men all his money if they would take it in exchange for his life but he didn’t even know how to ask them. Note to dead man, never go to a foreign country without knowledge of their language.
He could still hear the fireworks, but they were a great distance away. He felt the loosening of the hood, and hope began spreading through his body, his mind. It was fully removed and he found himself gasping for air. They had moved him to the front of the boat. Then he saw why they’d given him this last gift.
The leader walked up to him, carrying something long and narrow. It was encased in a beautifully made leather sheath. The man slowly pulled out the blood laden knife that had brought Cue to this place, his one mistake he’d made with David Moss. His eyes must have reacted as they’d planned. He heard evil laughter. What did Mickey tell him earlier? Something about his eyes? These thoughts were going through his mind when the man nodded for the others to replace the hood. The thug raised his arms, stretching them high above his head, with his hands gripping the knife while the others lowered Cue’s body so his head was hanging over the boat’s bow. And in an instant, the knife came down removing the hood forever.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish