A day's worth of tearing across the island, and it all led here. Tyrell hoped it had only felt inevitable. Maybe he’d find Lucas moping in a copse of trees or asleep inside one of the ramshackle houses. Even early into the morning, a day into searching, he imagined that Lucas was just around a corner, just beyond the next patch of jungle.
Every time he passed a corpse, he’d make a point of taking a closer look. Telling himself it was because he wanted to be thorough, to make sure he didn’t just step over Lucas or Erika. It was mostly an excuse to slow down, to take a moment to breathe. It was not just hunger and sleep deprivation that dogged him. Even in spite of the tropical heat, he fought off a recurring chill that seemed to well up from within.
There would come a point when willpower alone wouldn’t be enough to keep him going; when a decision would have to be made to abandon Lucas, or risk not being able to return to the Temple. A point when he’d either find him, or be forced to stop.
That point arrived sooner than he expected.
Minutes before the announcements played, he saw the body lying in the open, next to the river delta that flowed from the lake to the ocean. Flat on his back, chest completely soaked in blood. Closer inspection showed seven holes punched through his chest, six of them within a space no larger than Ty’s palm.
He was kneeling next to Lucas when Danya’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, telling him what he already knew to be true.
“...he took his eyes off the prize, which is a rookie mistake if we're being honest…”
"You fucking idiot."
She killed him. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. Anger welled up within Ty, but without any strength left in him to express it. Dropping the crowbar to the dirt, he carelessly slipped the duffel bag off of his bruised shoulders.
Using it as a pillow, Ty took up a spot next to Lucas’ corpse. As if the two of them were just sitting out here on the coast, enjoying the sunshine instead of decaying in it.
Exactly what he thought would happen, happened. Lucas got himself killed, all the effort he’d expended to hunt down and kill Erika amounting to nothing. All Tyrell had done to try and account for his failures, amounting to nothing. Only another number to cross off the list, another shallow victory for a person who’d get no joy out of surviving this.
Is this it? Is this all it led to?
The sense of urgency was gone, with nothing to replace it. No mission, no goal he could feasibly attain in the time he had left. Nothing significant. Ty rested his forearm across his face, keeping the sun out of his eyes. The makeshift darkness was a poor substitute for the real thing. He only managed a few minutes of rest before sitting back up again, unanswered questions asked over and over again in his mind.
His eyes once again adjusting to the sunlight, he forced himself to take another look at the body. To examine their handiwork, both Erika’s and his own. Even with the collar radar, he still must have thought walking out into the open was a great idea. If that was the case, Ty thought, maybe he shouldn’t have been so hard on himself. Maybe there was no helping someone like him.
Dead before he hit the ground. So why is his first aid kit open?
There were bandage wrappers scattered nearby, crumpled and left next to Lucas’ bag. Of course she’d take whatever she needed.
Whatever she needed?
A small trail led away from Lucas’ body, towards the river. Drops of blood. Stumbling to his feet, Ty followed it until it met the rushing water. Sticking out of the water’s edge, the Uzi he’d taken from Lorenzo and given to Lucas. One tool he’d hoped would tip the odds slightly in his favour. Retrieving it from the cool water, Ty pulled the magazine from the gun’s grip. Tiny holes in the side of the metal box indicated it wasn’t entirely full. Looking ahead, the glint of brass sticking out of sand caught his eye.
He shot first.
The drops of blood continued on the other side of the stream, alongside more scattered brass casings. Lucas wasn’t so stupid as to get caught out in the open; he must have followed her here. Once he saw her, there wasn’t any other choice. Not for him. The same as Ty had no choice but to follow, to make sure someone stopped her.
Walking back to Lucas’ body, he sat back down, setting the Uzi next to Lucas. She left it next to the river, which meant either she was well-armed enough not to need it, or she was too panicked to remember to take the gun. Given the evidence, it was very likely the latter. If Ty had the time and ability to bury him, he would’ve left the gun in the grave.
A cursory glance in Lucas’ bag indicated she’d at least made off with the collar radar, though. So it wasn’t a sure thing, but it was something.
You left her with two parting gifts. Nice one.
It was something. A paltry bit of vengeance, but vengeance nonetheless. Depending on how bad it was, maybe it would be the thing that would keep her here. She hadn’t come up on the morning’s announcements, so she’d at least survived the night. The radar was an edge, but not enough to save her if any one of Lucas’ shots landed true.
Ty felt a pang of guilt as he imagined where she might’ve been. What kind of a wound it was, how badly it hurt. Wondering if the sight of her own blood still made her panic, or if thirteen murders had been enough to wear away that part of her.
That she was still killing was evidence enough to the contrary, he supposed.
It should’ve been over right here. If he’d gone with Lucas, if they’d worked together, it would have been. It wasn’t right that he didn’t see his task to completion. It wasn’t right that she’d still suffer, that it wouldn’t be over before she knew it. Erika didn’t want to see it coming, she’d told him. She thought it was the best she could hope for.
This is all we’ve got.
Ty shook his head, wiping away sweat and tears and taking another look down at Lucas. The heat and sunlight were beginning to dessicate the corpse, pulling the skin tight around his face. He almost looked like he was smiling. Maybe he was, in a way. Maybe he’d accomplished enough.
Maybe Diaz could still hear him.
“I’m sorry, Lucas. We should’ve gone yesterday, you were right. I should have gone with you, right then, instead of tearing into you like I did. I should’ve known better.
I hope wherever you are now, if it’s anywhere, you’re at peace. ‘Cause like, you left a mark at least, maybe a bad one. If she doesn’t make it outta here, I’d bet it’ll be because of what you did. Payback for Desiree, for Katie and Saffron, for us. You did your best, man. It’s… a hell of a better approach than doing your worst. Wish I’d caught on sooner.”
Tyrell winced, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sickness lingering in the air.
“Wish I could’ve hated her like you did, it maybe would’ve made me see things clearer. With her, my head’s still back in Chattanooga, back before all this. I’d like to tell you it’ll be me that finishes it, but honestly - she’s got the collar tracker now, and with the state I’m in like - I’d just fuck it up. End up as one more notch. I wish I could’ve done more. For you, and her. Maybe I did all I could, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I hope you can forgive me.”
It was a really nice spot. Maybe that’s what drew her here. Ty imagined it looked a lot nicer in the evening, when the sun started to go down. If there were any lingering spirits on the island, he’d imagine they’d hang around places like this. The view from the manor was nice, but this was close enough that the wind occasionally carried mist off of the sea. It made it easy to imagine possibilities, to think of what might be waiting on the other side of the horizon.
There weren’t many clues as to which ocean it was, which coastlines and busy ports lay at the end of one heading or another. Places with unfamiliar smells and busy markets he would’ve perused, looking for new tastes and sensations he could bring back home. Knowledge and experiences that would give him a bit more credibility going into the culinary world, a background that was a little bit less green.
Clout, one might even say.
Ty smirked, his mind continuing to drift to thoughts of other shores.
“Starting to wonder if I’m right to be at least a little bit jealous of you. Where you’ve ended up, the real you. Not this, what you left behind. Could be like an airport, or a terminal station, maybe some docks. Somewhere you can watch people come in one by one, all smiling and crying. Happy there’s something instead of nothing at all. I bet there’s a place that makes cinnamon buns, like it’s the first thing you smell. The best train stations have those in ‘em. That’d be one hell of a treat, after all of this.
“I used to think sometimes that my brother might be waiting there, wherever it is, with a sign that’s got my name on it. As if he was still waiting, like he said he would. Thinking of that, it made me wanna follow him more than a few times.
“Hey if - if you see him, maybe just give him a heads-up for me? Just tell him I’m on the way. He looks like me, but a little shorter and more put together. Same eyes. Name’s Elliott. I’m sure he’s been wondering if I was coming along sooner or later.”
No more than a few days.
The wind picked up from the ocean, the smell of salt and sea foam briefly overpowering the stench of decay. He was either talking to himself, or whoever decided to hang around the island instead of leaving right away.
Not sure what I want to believe.
In either case, it felt like he had said all he should. Ty gently placed a hand on Lucas’ shoulder.
“I’ll see you in another life, man.”