“Is that it? Is that what I am? A broken watch you want to fix?”
“No.” Pax took a breath. “I love you because of everything I see in you. It’s because of how you took a chance, came to a new world, and risked your own life to save it, me, and all the people you didn’t even know. You’re so much better than you think you are. I can see you—who you reallyare—without the cloud of your self-doubt and the weight of your regrets. My gift is more than just the ability to hear thoughts, a lot more. It’s like I amyou, in a way. I don’t just know what goes on in your head, I understand it too. As twisted as Ren was, I understood him—even sympathized, because part of me was Ren. So I can see you very clearly, and believe me, you’re beautiful. But also I love you because…well…because you recognized me.”
“Huh?”
“When I showed up at the farm, dressed like this—like all the others—you knew it was me.”
“I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”
“It is. Trust me. It is.”
The bodies had all been gathered up and spirited out. Ellis wondered what they did with them. If death was such a rarity, the earth sacred, and God nonexistent did they bother with burials anymore? The ceremonial burying of the dead was one of the first civilized things humanity ever did, the first thing that indicated empathy and a belief in an afterlife. What did it mean if such a fundamental milestone had been rescinded? What did it say about the human race going forward?
The thought disturbed him as he walked alone through the empty streets of Greenfield Village. Morning had come and gone as did all the people from Hollow World. Ellis moved down Main Street past the J. R. Jones General Store. The two-story clapboard front with big picture windows draped with red, white, and blue bunting looked like every general store Ellis had ever seen in a period movie. Maybe that was the reason the store—the whole village—felt more familiar, more precious than his own neighborhood. Ellis didn’t miss his suburban cookie-cutter home, but he did feel a loss for the general stores and the village greens that had once been the heart of communities. They were more than just places. They were icons of an era—of an epoch. Ellis could already see the untended grass growing high. Now that the members of the Cult of Ren had turned Greenfield Village into the crime scene of not just one, but multiple murders, would people stay away? Would the village be left to decay and disappear?
Ellis took a seat on one of the benches. The seat was cold. Autumn was coming to old Michigan and with it that strange phenomenon of being hot where the sun shone and chilled in the shadows. Night was coming earlier now. In two thousand years the seasons remained, and as always the turning of leaves and the shortening days depressed Ellis—just more dirt on a grave that was smothering him.
Despite what Warren thought, Ellis had read the Bible—or most of it, at least. He’d skimmed through parts where he felt God could have really used an editor. This probably made him the last living believer—God’s remaining faithful. Not that Ellis was all that faithful. He’d always felt it would be a toss-up which way he’d go after he died. He never felt he’d intentionally caused anyone suffering, but he hadn’t spent his life healing the sick of Calcutta or even volunteering at the local soup kitchen. Then there were the two killings. He hoped he’d get credit for saving millions of innocent lives, but who knew how the score was kept? Did the end justify the means? Would Jesus have condoned the killing of Hitler? Warren might have even been right. God routinely condoned mass murder. Or was Sol right? Was God something more, something that transcended the Bible? Was God not known—not knowable—because God didn’t exist yet, except in the form of a promise? Was heaven that point where humanity finally joined together as one? Would that act of uniting be the birth of God?
As a favor, Pax had gone to supply answers to the people of Hollow World. Pax knew Ellis didn’t want to face crowds yet, and there would be massive ones waiting. After the global evacuation, everyone knew about the bombs. Everyone would know the part he played. Not only was he unique, but now he would also be seen as the man that saved Hollow World. Ellis needed time alone to sort things out. He had a lot to sort.
He’d lost his son, his wife, his lifelong friend. He’d lost everyone he had known, and his entire way of life. In the New Testament, Jesus was quoted as saying: For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?Nowhere did it say anything about losing the whole world. But since he had, did that mean he could get his soul back? He’d felt an emptiness since Isley died. What he had done must be a mortal sin, and if he couldn’t forgive himself, how could he expect God to.
So now what?
Ellis looked at a row of sparrows perched along the peak of the general store. Each silhouetted against the clear late-autumn sky. Wind blew the grass. There were no voices, no sounds of traffic. The world felt dead. At least his world was, and lingering in a make-believe graveyard wouldn’t help.
Ellis had been kept busy since his leap forward. The few moments he had a chance to think had been moments he’d stopped treading water. He sank, only to be saved each time by currents driving him forward. But the currents had played themselves out, and Ellis had hours of isolated silence to ponder, to evaluate, to drown.
He tried to consider the possibility of a future, but before he could he had to face one inescapable truth. He couldn’t be with Pax. He knew Pax loved him, and he…How could he return those feelings? As he had told Isley, that sort of love doesn’t exist except between a man and a woman. And how could he be around Pax—who knew his every thought and that the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Ellis watched the sparrows all take flight, flying south as one flock.
Ellis walked down the lonely lane between the wooden fences.
November in Detroit had to be the definition for dreary. Once, long ago, it had conjured visions of gray slush, cars splattered with the chalk of salt, naked trees, yellow grass, and unforgiving skies. That day the snow was delayed, there were no more cars or roads to salt, but the grass had still yellowed and the skies remained just as vindictive. A handful of grocery-bag-colored leaves clung stubbornly to trees, their families and friends lost, blowing across the fields. Ellis was cold and shivered.
Pax found him there, alone on the road.
“My hero,” Pax said.
“Don’t say that. I—” Ellis’s voice choked. He couldn’t see and closed his eyes, forcing the tears out. “Pax…I can’t…I can’t love you.”
Ellis felt a thumb on his cheek, wiping the tears. “But you do love me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Of course you do, Ellis Rogers. I can feel what you feel. You do love me—you just don’t know what love is.”
Hands cupped his face, lifting it gently. “All your life, you never learned, because no one showed you. Not your mother, who didn’t know how to express affection. Not your wife, who blamed you for the death of your son. Certainly not Warren. Not even your son, who didn’t trust that you would come around. None of you understood what love really is. It’s not lust, or dependence, or infatuation, or familiarity. Love isn’t a fondness or butterflies in your stomach.”
“Then what is it?” Ellis managed to ask.
“Love is the degree to which you are willing to sacrifice your own interests for those of another. It doesn’t matter what sex you are. It doesn’t matter who you are, or were. It only matters that you care more for someone else than you do for yourself. It’s when you eat minlatta with tarragon oil even when you hate pasta because someone with you enjoys it. It’s when you value being alone more than anything but agree to move in with someone because they need you. And believe this, Ellis Rogers, for I am quite certain that love is most certainly when you push away the one person in all the world you want to be with because you think your thoughts would cause them pain.”