Sinner’s Forever . . .
Forever Sinners . . .
In the end, I might lose the battle. But I’ve won the war.
Alive or dead, I am the victor.
I am Sinner’s Creed Nomad National Dirk . . .
And that’s the fucking truth.
—
I’m riding hard, void of feeling, void of emotion, void of her. All I have are her memories, but they’re not enough. So I ride harder, letting the sound of the wind and pipes silence the screaming in my head. But there is another sound that can’t be silenced. It’s familiar.
The loud rumble of pipes behind me is powerful enough to vibrate the concrete beneath my tires. And then I see them. Countless headlights shine through the dark desert night, and roaring engines speed behind me, creating a perfect two-line formation.
My first thought is that it’s my brothers, coming to support me, to let me know that I’m not alone. But as they gain on me with no intentions of slowing, I know they are not my brothers. They are my enemies.
I wait for the familiar feel of adrenaline to course through my veins. I anticipate the heavy beat of my heart against my chest. I rack my brain for the knowledge of what to do. I’m sure the will to survive and desire to fight is coming.
But it doesn’t. Just like Saylor, everything fades. I can almost feel the weight of peace as it settles over me like a blanket.
I hear the sound of a bullet being forced from the barrel of a gun. I can hear it whistle as it travels through the air. I can even hear the sound of flesh tearing, splaying open my skin, as it rips through the thick leather of my cut and connects just behind my left shoulder.
But I feel nothing.
My eyes begin to close and the sound of screeching metal against concrete and the thud of my helmet against the road is loud in my ears.
Still, I feel nothing.
Then, there is silence.
My eyes focus on the lights that shine down the two-lane road in front of me. Heavy footsteps surround me and a dark figure blocks the beam of light from my view. I somehow find the strength to meet the eyes of the man who stands before me. Cyrus.
He says something, but I can’t hear him. Before the darkness completely consumes me, my last vision is of the shiny, metal barrel of his gun.
Then, nothing.
—
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I begin to feel. I wait for the smoldering heat to be so intense that my body ignites in flames. I wait for the sound of painful cries and torture to fill my ears. I keep my eyes closed because I know that if I can feel and I can hear, then I can see. And I have an eternity to look at the misery before me.
But something isn’t right. I feel warmth, but not an agonizing, flesh-burning heat. What I hear is loud, but not cries of repent or suffering screams. I crack open one eye, and a shining, blue sky looks back at me. I open the other and stare up into an endless sea of blue sky and puffy white clouds.
My hands move beside me, and the softest granules of sand sift through my fingers. I sit straight up, and miles of ocean water stretch as far as I can see. I can feel, hear, and see so much, but I only have one thought.
I’m dead. And someone fucked up.
There is no fire. There is no darkness. There is no Black. There is only me, the ocean, and the sky. The peacefulness is almost overwhelming, but it settles inside of me, infiltrating every part of my body.
Instead of panic, I feel comfort. Suddenly, I don’t know my name. I don’t know who I am or how I got here. I’m just here. Everything that seemed wrong and foreign only minutes ago seems right, and I know I belong here.
I inhale deeply, letting the scent of salt water and fresh air invade my lungs. There is a hint of citrus in the air. I know I should recognize it, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I pull my boots off and sink my toes into the sand at my feet. It feels like satin. I walk to the water, letting the tide cover the tops of my feet, and it feels warm and cool at the same time. The perfect temperature.
Then I feel something. Something magnetic pulling at me, causing me to turn my eyes back toward the tall palms that line the beach.
And I see her. She is a vision in white. Her hair is blond, curly, unruly, and sticks out over her head like she stuck her finger in a light socket. She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Her smile is wide, two full, pink lips framing a set of perfect white teeth. Her dress flows at her bare feet that she places one in front of the other, bringing her to me. She stops inches from my face, closes her mesmerizing emerald eyes, and holds her arms out to her sides. The light breeze from the ocean swirls her hair around her head and I have the overwhelming urge to close my eyes too. Her scent fills me as memories come flooding back.
I’m a child, crying in the back room of a house. There is a man there, Black.
I’m a man, confused and torn on the inside. There is a knife in my hand and an unrecognizable man laying dead at my feet.