✄❀ curtain call

Ritz didn’t fully remember how he got to the green-curtained clinic room, but he spent the next day in the Phoenix Tower clinic, and the day after that, and the day after that and —

“You’ve made yourself at home, huh?”

He had certainly been living there a while. His injury looked a steaming mess, but stitched up well and with a dose of painkillers he could pile up a few stools and taunt the cameras until someone came to unlock the door so he could go to the cafe before the morning crowd came in. And before the whole place started stinking of coffee. He had probably eaten a grand’s worth of pastries over the course of the week before Magnus found time to visit.

“I have no work and no challenges. I don’t have to leave.”

“Whoa, what a turnaround. I’m glad you’re feeling so confident. But this is still my house.”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

“Hah.” Magnus grinned acidly at Ritz, who was lounging arms behind head, shoes on the bed. He pulled over one of the chairs and desks and dropped an extremely greasy plastic bag on the top. “Not before lunch. I’m starving, don’t have a lot of time to eat. I’m actually here more to hide from the office goons than to see you. But I haven’t seen you recently, so, two birds with one stone.”

Magnus unpacked two foam containers, one streaming brown oil. He cracked the lid open with some difficulty and failed to not make a mess. The deep container was filled with strips of beef and onion mixed with flat noodles, roasted in soup of what looked like engine grease. “If you’ll excuse the presentation, I was hoping to bring you some of this after the last time we ate. Always liked the food stand version better, no offense to my chefs, and the portions are a little more manageable. If you know what I mean.”

A bit too easily managed, as Ritz began inhaling the food as soon as it was set in front of him.

Magnus opened up the cleaner looking styrofoam shell for himself. It was a blander, slightly yellowish dish of rice and mixed vegetables. “So how are you doing?”

“A lot of people ask me that.” So he had an answer. “I’m fine.”

Magnus had dealt much in casual answers and didn't bother with retort. “You left the Tower at all?”

“A couple days ago. But I lost my coat and jumpsuit when they did the surgery, so I came back.”

“I’ll have to ask about that, if you even want the things back.” Magnus shoveled rice like a windmill. “Lucky that you didn’t go too far. Winter’s colder than it’s been in years. Frosty as shit, ice everywhere, but no snow since that first night. So it all looks miserable in addition to being miserable. I have a meeting in North Tower later today.”

“I’ve never been there.”

“Would you like to go? You might find it interesting.”

Ritz took a breather from his meal. “Why? Isn’t that your security building?”

“Yes. Gotta get the final reports on this… Dumper case.” He cringed. “Christ, what a name. I should just shut down that news station, would if it weren’t the only one in town. Huh. Maybe I’ll just start my own…” Magnus turned and pointed a splintery chopstick at Ritz. “Anyhow, it’s the end of your case. You should be there. And even if you don’t care, I might ask you do go anyway. You see, I’m thinking of making you a member of security.”

“Oh. Is that…”

“It’s a job.”

“I have a–” Ritz realized this reflexive answer would no longer work. Magnus gave him a moment to realize it.

“S2 Florist has closed it’s doors. That means you’re in the market for a new job, and I have a post for you. You don’t have to agree now, but that post isn’t likely to be filled by any other-”

“I thought you said they were alive!”

“You remember that?” Magnus furrowed his brow. “They’re alive, yeah. But… things aren’t the same, I guess. They’re still shaken up over it. It sounds a little rough, because I know you guys got along, but they asked not to let to know where they are. And haven’t wanted to see you. Yet.”

Ritz chewed slowly.

“I can’t read minds, but I know their business well though, and I don’t think they’ll be back anytime soon. Maybe they continue with their private gardening business. I can tell you about the opportunity I have for you, though. Basically, it’s what you did on the expo night, but you get paid. You know, that time, the shooter. Leonard someone. Most likely less dangerous, not sure how he got his hands on that kind of weapon. Means it should be easy for you, swords on knives, swords on baseball bats – easy pickings. Oh – I heard you lost your swords somehow, but if you need any, er, equipment, you know I’ve got a selection ready.”

Magnus continued to ramble, and Ritz watched puzzled as he managed not to spit while talking with his mouth full. “You are guaranteed good salary, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I’m proud enough to say they’re right. You can stay in here anytime, and you get a cardkey and a company phone. Cars if you need em, but I think you’re a runner. And you need to get your license. Don’t think I didn’t see all those times-”

He wagged a finger ineffectually at Ritz’s uncaring mug.

“And maybe you heard already, but the founder – well, you might just call her the muse – the first Asahara of the Troupe was a bodyguard. A guard to the President of that fair nation.”

“I only know she failed.”

“Hey, I won’t be expecting you to stop a storm of bullets. Just keep an eye out and look good.” He paused, smile fading for a moment. “I can’t force you into it, but consider, alright? You always sounded like a guy who had to keep busy.” He stared thoughtfully. “Though I may force you into something else soon. Your shithole of an apartment got condemned. Huge roach infestation and toxic mold in the ceilings and floors. I dropped by to get your stuff cleaned out and hell, I’m surprised that didn’t kill you before long before you wrapped up your challenges.”

The both contemplated the dangers of his old apartment while finishing their food.

The door opened and in walked Uriel, who immediately clapped his hands over his mouth and nose and griped. “Smells like a grease pit in here.”

“Sit down, have a bite,” Magnus said, offering up Ritz’s box (the more menacing of the two.) Uriel scowled and slouched cross-armed a safe distance away.

“I thought you had an important meeting today.”

“Later, man. You going to be there? You did find a good third of the dumper’s dumpees. Maybe you’ll finally give a formal statement-”

“I’m going, but not for that.”

“Ritz might be going too.”

Uriel turned to Ritz for the first time since he entered, and nodded in a manner just a touch less caustic. “So you pulled through.”

Ritz didn’t quite know what he meant but nodded contentedly.

“Congrats. So I take it you're going to see the bodies today? Looking for anyone in particular?”

“What bodies?”

“I told him to come as a bodyguard,” Magnus shrugged. “Didn’t tell him about the other-”

“A bodyguard?” Uriel repeated, accusingly. “Guy almost died and you want him to wake up and immediately be looking after you. Just fucking tell him before he doesn’t have to learn through the radio or some shit.”

Magnus sighed. “Thought we could have a nice meal before this but you had to walk in. Sure. Ritz, we’re knocking the old Church down.”

Ritz looked from Magnus to Uriel in alarm.

“I mean, I’m getting the construction company to do it. Gotta put something else there, that entire district’s been abandoned since before my time.”

“But there are-”

“Bodies in the walls, I know. The old Troupe kept the place standing longer than it should have, even if it wasn’t… quite by their own willpower. But no worries, over the last week I saw to it that the bodies were excavated and photographed, recorded and stored, sanitized and..." Magnus paused. "... and ready for a proper burial.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Ritz wrung the chopsticks in his hands.

“Ready for burial, but I was waiting for you to get around to them first.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything but if you want to… I don’t know, if you were looking for anyone, wanted to say your last goodbyes, confirm anything, get closure… we’ve got a lineup of photos.”

“I don’t want to see those.”

Magnus rolled a flippant look at Uriel, as if to say see? There was no point in bringing this up.

“No parents or friends?” Uriel asked.

“Not them.” Ritz scraped the last dregs of onion the bottom of his foam container. “But there is one. Not for me but- what did Val do with the Leader’s body?”

“Val…” Magnus thought. “Gone missing, it seems. I haven’t seen him since the night you were admitted, but he didn’t look like he was about to do anything with the bodies.”

“He was looking for the Leader. A body with… no legs, one arm. A man. He was going to, I don’t know, study it. Study immortality.”

“There are a lot of bodies in that state, or something like it. Val’s handiwork no doubt. But he said he was done with them by the time he left that night.” Magnus leaned back in his chair. “Immortality. Did he say that? What’s there to study? Everyone in that building but you and him were dead when we went to check.”

“I see.”

He didn’t see at all. But the Leader was old news.

“What about Ran?”

“We found her body, yes.”

It was both a relief and devastating blow to hear it. So it really was over. Ritz wanted to ask a question, but he couldn’t form words, he couldn’t even patch together a topic. This was no situation to ask ‘is she okay?’ or ‘what did she say?’ ‘where is she now?’ He didn’t have to say anything, but felt unpleasantly obligated, out of habit or politeness, but politeness that was just filling a void that he wasn’t sure how to fill otherwise.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Magnus asked, “Just don’t worry about her anymore. It’s over.”

“Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Was that a joke? Wait, are you accepting the job-”

“Oh my god,” Uriel groaned. Magnus just grinned at him.

“Hey, Uri. Looks like I finished my business here. Why don’t you let him know what you’re here to say.” Without waiting, Magnus turned back to Ritz. “Since you’re down on an apartment now, I thought Uriel could offer up the upper flat of his building. Cheap place, but then, you can afford it. And it might help to be around friends.” Ritz sat up straight and Magnus continued, “I think he needs a quiet neighbor, considering who else he’s dealing with.

“Val lives there too.”

“So you’ve been there before. What do you think? Neighbors with this asshole, and Val, provided Uriel doesn’t succeed at kicking him out.”

“That guy’s never going to leave,” Uriel muttered.

“I don’t mind Val as a neighbor,” Ritz mused. He was remembering his old neighbor, generator of front-step messes and late-night curses.

Uriel looked ready to begin listing off his complaints in an attempt to sway him, but Magnus held a hand up swiftly and beamed at Ritz. “So you’ll take it then. With that, we can get you moved in. An old story closes, and a new one opens today. I hope this life will be a bit more agreeable.”

“That sounds good.” Ritz folded the chopsticks on his closed box. “How expensive are gravestones?”

—

Weeks later. The snow had returned for one night, leaving just enough to cover the dull brown landscape with a veil of fresh white. The cotton canopies were white too. It was not an icy day, only a thin crisp frost that barely covered the glass. Windless, the air held still. But beyond the man-made forest at the edge of the part, there was just enough traffic to make the day feel alive. There were worse days to be visiting the park, even considering the circumstances.

“Hey, Ran,” Ritz greeted the casket awkwardly.

Doctors were truly miraculous, he thought. Her head had been placed back on her shoulders, neck wrapped with a scarf, blood washed away. She lay in the black clothes they had bought – sans the bullet-riddled jacket – and lay on a bed of burgundy silk. Her face was radiant. She looked like she was just sleeping, or pretending to sleep. Ritz had never seen her face clearly when she was sleeping.

It was, just slightly, upsetting.

Magnus and Uriel were at the front of the church park, smoking by their entourage of black bikes and black limousines. They were also dressed funeral ready, but then, they seemed to always have black jackets on. They did not follow him to see Ran.

The church-related paranoia he’d lost along with Sal had been generously replaced by Uriel, who pointed out every priest he saw as a ‘possible psycho.’ He wouldn’t touch the church with a ten-foot pole, he reiterated to Ritz, who tried to tell him a story about the interesting priest he’d met. Incidentally, Ritz’s twin priest was not present.

Magnus had just said, “I think you could use some privacy.”

Privacy. So here he was, under a canopy in the snow-covered field, trying to think of a way to articulate the end of their story. But he didn’t exactly have privacy.

A short distance off, at the edge of the canopy, in a coat the color of neighborly vomit was Val, eagerly awaiting his speech. Ritz decided to spare him the enjoyment. He placed the white flowers beside her cool, white hand (the one missing fingers had been wrapped and camouflaged with a white glove) and took a step back.

“You don’t wanna tell her anything?”

“Tell her? She can’t hear me. She’s dead.”

“Really, you’re the last of your kind and you can’t be a little more creative? What about your showmanship? Oh, I guess the clan’s dead now but how about a nice final bow? Too complicated?” Val tapped his chin. “How about, what you’d say if she was alive?”

“If she was alive then that would mean I failed again.”

Val nodded. He was chewing on something, as usual.

Ritz continued, “If it was near the end, I would have said goodbye. But it’s too late for that, too. And again… if I had been thinking of that, if I had bothered to talk then, I would have lost. Again.”

“That’s true.”

“There are things I wish I had said. Or knew how to say, when she was staying with me. She acted that on so well, I really thought she would stay forever. I kind of still wonder – if I said something else – she would have – no. She was the master. Her plan wouldn’t have been spoiled by anything I said. Look, even in the end, I did what she asked. And I’m a bad talker.”

Ritz glanced at Val.

“But talking helped me figure out one thing. Before that night, I always wondered, why would anyone want to die? Why would you ask someone to make sure you-” He turned towards the casket. She looked peaceful, but then, until the last moments, she always had. It didn’t mean anything.

“I know now. You ask to die when you are trapped. When it’s bad enough, when you beg for it when you’ve hardly been able to speak a straight sentence before, that’s the final trap, and at least it’s one you control. I can’t explain it either, but I know the feeling of being forced to it. It’s sadness.” He clawed lightly at the glossy wood. Why so much shine for something to be put into the ground?

His face must have looked disgusting. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and a trail of phlegm slapped grossly against the wood and he fumbled to wipe it and the coffin rocked uneasily. All gone wrong. But there was nobody looking now. No audience, no act. No point in looking good.

Maybe it was because of her.

There was no way she could be looking, was there?

His mouth went on, but his flat tone was failing.

“If you could hear. If you can hear me, this that’s all I want to say. I understand now. I’d say don’t be sad. Were you trying to teach me that? Sorry I’m so stupid. I never graduated. I might have this wrong. I think I said that wrong. I don’t have the words but I feel…  more sure of it than of anything. Anything I said to you before, anything we were told to say or do, even the things I remembered. Nobody should want to die. But sometimes they do. You didn’t want me to die. I’ll try. I’ll stop being sad. I will feel nothing. I’m trying now. I–”

—

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I have none,” Val apologized.

“I see.”

He did see. Val had green smears all over his face from his little snack, doubtless wishing more tissues for himself than for Ritz. He started to wipe it off with his pale coat sleeves. Stony-eyed, Ritz powerwalked away from the spectacle as quietly as he could. Val sauntered after him, limbs aflutter.

“So what now?”

“I have to tell the priests that I – she is ready. They have the hole ready.”

“I meant further down the line. What will you do? With your time. No more challenges.” Val wiped the stains on his sleeves onto his sides, only making the problem worse. “Aw, man. Well, it was worth it. Heh.”

Ritz was surprised by how low Val’s grumbling was. It was like there was a second voice emitted from the base of his throat. Val’s breath milled around him. While Ritz puffed white clouds, from Val’s lungs rose a stream of dark black.

“Do you smoke?”

“Smoke?” The clouds dissipated. “Me? Nope.”

“Oh. I was just… it’s nothing.” Ritz looked down the short hill to where Magnus was standing. “Let’s go home.” Uriel had apparently had enough of Magnus’s company and was huddled with his fellow bikers, smoking like chimneys and trying to look oblivious to the nest of limousines that surrounded them. Magnus ignored Uriel’s gruffness and headed alone to the nearest trashcan at the corner of the block to courtesy drop his cigarette ashes.

Across the street, apparently waiting for the light to change, was a figure in a heavy brown overcoat, his hands jammed into oversize pockets. Ritz narrowed his eyes. The hands in the pockets clenched something more solid than a handkerchief, bigger than a phone or wallet.

Ritz reached into his own pocket, inside the satin-lined wool outfit Magnus had provided for today’s occasion.

“What’s up?” Val asked, covered waist-up with plant smudges. He glanced down the street. “Aha. Magnus really has enemies everywhere, doesn’t he?”

Ritz was poised to spring, shifting weight from foot to foot like a cat. Val smiled and puffed black smoke into his face. They waited. The light changed, and the stranger made a run for Magnus.

“Well go on, what are you being paid for?” Val laughed. Ritz, in a crazy, uncontrolled moment, smiled back automatically. He yanked the black-handled sickle from his pocket (tearing the satin lining, but what the heck) and swept down the hill like a hawk, scarf tails flying. Uriel’s crowd spotted him first and broke into chaos and dove to cover their own asses. Magnus looked up from his fragmenting cigarette, surprised, not altogether concerned. Ritz picked up speed, just skimming the snow. The wind bit at the skin of his face, and Val’s feet slapping fell further and further back. And now it was quiet. It was peaceful. He was not tired anymore, nor was he alone or sick. There would be others, but today was a perfect day to live.

He didn’t see far, but it was all so bright, and wildly clear.

THE END