Chapter 22: Tears Into Rain

“No!” Sebastien yelled and Belle and Russell gasped. Sebastien looked at Belle, went to say something but found his mouth was empty of words. Instead, he just swallowed and dived into the tide. Belle looked at Russell, and said “well?”
“Well what?”
“Its your daughter!”
All of a sudden Russell realised.
“Oh, right!” he took a deep intake of breath, swallowed and dived after Sebastien. He was wet already anyway. The water boiled up to meet him, hot and dark and viscous. He landed and it was like a slap in the face. He sliced into the surf with his dice and under the water. Underneath, it was impossible to see anything – the only source of light was the moon, bubbling about a mile away and illuminating a small patch of dark water. Realising it was useless to search underwater Russell surfaced and the air felt cold against his face like a slap. The tide rumbled above his lips and he burbled a second, treading water, then kicked off and began a kick stroke towards where he had seen Melanie fall. Sebastien was a short way ahead of him, kicking powerfully through the sludgy water. More foamed over makeshift barricades of metal piping but the sludge underneath the island from years of burning fuel tainted any water which was touched. It was like the island was being overrun by soot.

Russell felt the island creak around him. To get to Melanie they would have to pass under the island – the two halves hadn't entirely seperated, and they had to go under a thin land bridge to get to her. Russell saw Sebastien approach the bridge, and saw the hissing steam at the top which signified a broken pipe. More split and the bridge collapsed, sending chunks careening down to him. “Look out, Seb!” Russell cried, and Sebastien looked up just in time to see a spinning pipe bounce off a girder right above his head. If the girder hadn't been there, he would have been split in two. By the time Russell got to the bridge it had entirely collapsed, broken wires spilling down the hill in between the two men.
“Russell, I can see her! Climb up! We need to get to the tower now, we don't have much time!”
“Alright!” Russell replied, and began clambering up the broken rigging. At the top he saw Belle. He reached out a hand for her to help him up, but she shook her head.
“C'mon!” he cried, waving his fist at her.
“I didn't tell you what my offer was!” she replied.
“I don't care! Just help me up!”
“Russell!” she hollered at him, as the tide leapt up and drenched Russell, gambolling even at Belles feet. “I want you to take me with you. I'll work the door for you if you take me with you!”

Russell stared up at her. He had been afraid of something like this.
“Is this really the time?” he cried.
“Answer me!”
“Now really isn't the time!”
“Answer me! Will you take me with you?”
Russell grimaced.
“Alright! Alright, fine! You can come with!”
She grinned and finally offered her hand.

Sebastien spluttered through the deep just in time to see Melanie bob under the surface of the water. “No!” he cried out, and dived, wading blindly through the muck till he could feel the girls hand. He grasped her wrist tightly in his hand and pulled, tugging her out of the muck of the water.
“C'mon, sir! C'mon, Lester!” he shouted, the muck burbling into his mouth. He spat, and dragged Melanie to the edge of the water. They lay together there for a moment, Sebastien panting madly.
Slowly, he said “part one... of the plan... complete!” Melanie coughed weakly, brown water spurting out of her mouth.

When Russell saw Melanie he picked up speed, running towards her. Sebastien was on the ground next to her, pumping at her chest.
“One! Two! Three!” he pumped, pushing salt water through her gagging throat. He lifted her mouth, and gave her CPR – filling her mouth and lungs with air. She spluttered, rivulets of black water splattering on his face.
“Melanie!” Russell cried.
He looked joyfully at Sebastien and saw the pendant hanging on his neck.
His smile dropped.

“What... whats that?” He asked Sebastien, pointing at the metal, golden, pendant, hanging out over Melanie as Sebastien leaned forward. Sebastien looked down confusedly. “Oh, this?” he replied, picking the thing gingerly up in his hands. “Lester gave it to me.”
Russells eyes narrowed.
“Would you mind if I had a quick look?”
Sebastien agreed, and humped his shoulders so he could take the necklace up over his shoulders. He dropped it into Russells hand, the little golden chain unravelling into a little pile on top of it. He hung it in midair in front of him and gazed at it, admiring the way the florescence below him illuminated the pendant above. He saw the golden trim, faded a little with age, and the glass diamond nestled in the centre, like a baby in a metal womb. He turned it around in his hand, smiling a little sadly. Pecks of rain dripped onto it. This pendant looked exactly like...

On the back, an inscription in a hammed-up font read:

'Juliet,
With all my heart,
With every beat,
With every artery,
and every vein,
With all my soul,
With everything I have,
Or ever shall have,
I will always love you,

Forever yours,
Russell.

The rain hammered down around them. The skies boiled black and the seas foamed. The metal underneath Russell throbbed and cracked. His hand curled into a vicious fist with the pendant curled within it and he launched himself at Sebastien, punching him square in the mouth.

Russell would have preferred it if it had rained, if it had poured down out of the open wound of cloud hovering above the church-ground, so he could feel some sense of irony at the massive loss he had sustained. He wished that pathetic fallacy worked in real life like it did in films. The earth would have ruptured beneath him, and split in half. Out of his widowed face he saw gravestones reflected in every eye of the mourners. He wondered if there would be this many onlookers at his funeral and as he looked around he only saw people who wouldn't come to see him off. They all came for Juliet, all his friends were Juliets friends. Nobody took him for coffee alone. He picked up Melanie, who was wearing a black dress, the same as everyone else. He was surrounded by darkness-

Black sky above and black churning water below, the ground was all that sustained him and it ripped beneath him as he charged. The punch knocked Sebastien down, taking him by surprise. He fell and landed hard on the metal floor, rivets digging into his back and Russell leapt on him, straddling his chest, and punched him again, hard, so the side of his face smacked against the floor. Sebastien looked up with blood staining his beautiful face and Russell punched it again. He lifted Sebastien off the floor by his shirt, then knocked him down. Lightning arced overhead – whether from the sky or the sparking electrical equipment on the ground nobody cared.

In the crematorium Russell didn't cry. His grandmother in law was weeping besides him. He felt like he had more in common with the guy next to her, her husband the stroke victim. Or something. She said before that nobody ever worked out exactly what was wrong with him. He wasn't crying either. He didn't look like he knew what was going on. He wasn't an old man, he was just broken. All around him were weeping, red-faced, tear-stained friends-of-friends and he had never felt more alone. It wasn't even that his wife had died, it was more like someone had ripped off half of his arm. It was just like people said, ''she's a part of me''. All he could feel of her was her absence, he could only feel nobody sitting next to him, nobody sleeping next to him, nobody eating with him, talking with him, laughing occasionally with him. It was like you'd spent all your life looking into a mirror and then someone smashed it, so you could see snatches of the outside world all distorted, stretched, cracked and broken across the edges of the mirror. His fist clenched as he felt anger rise and pulse inside of him. What the hell were they thinking? Why did they think that they had a right to invade his final moments with his wife? Those final frantic moments where he had clasped her fingers and felt life fall out them, finger and wrinkle at a time weren't enough. Those moonlight-drenched, tear-soaked seconds in the broken living room between them, as he kissed her and wept, his fingers clutching at her as she drifted away from him and left him entirely alone. They weren't enough.

He needed more time!

Russell reared up to punch Sebastien again and Belle caught his fist as he raised it and held it back. Russell strained to punch Sebastien again and screamed, yanking his fist out of Belles clasping hands and Sebastien got knocked into the floor again. Belle barrelled into him from the side, which he wasn't expecting, and it caught him by surprise. He fell to the floor and Sebastien reached over and tried to grab the pendant.
“You stay away!” He shouted, spitting at Sebastien and rolling over so he could stand up. Rain sleeted between the two, huffing, puffing, covered in punks blood.
Scarlet pulsed behind Russells eyes and his fist caressed the pendant like it was a little heart. If he let it go it might kill him.
“Where did you get this?” He howled out over the weather.
“I told you already,” Sebastien replied, and he spat at the ground. Blood retched out of his mouth and splattered against the ground. “Lester gave it to me.”
“I don't believe you.” Russells eyes bulged. “This belonged to my wife! This pendant-” and he showed them the blood-covered trinket - “I bought this for her, as a wedding gift!”
He closed his eyes and all his rage left him as he remembered what came next. All his health and exuberance left him and dripped down to the trinket. “The man who killed her took this.”
Tears dripped down his long nose and joined the rain on the ground.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Russell stood there, head bowed, rain dripping down his neck, black and white between the sheets, a blur in the heavy storm.
“I just want to go home.” he murmured.

Russell sat by the phone for hours at a time, waiting, begging for a call. The phone hung resolutely, refusing to ring. He checked the dial-tone – it was still there. He waited a bit more, then checked again, then he checked the modem cord, then he picked the phone up and put it down again just to be sure. Hours passed. He threw the phone on the ground, stamped it, hurled abuse at it, then sat it down and waited by the phone. His wife would be home soon. And in the meantime he couldn't go in the bedroom.

Don't confuse love for neediness, he had always told himself. But between you and me, I think rules don't apply.

He didn't want to go home. He wanted to go back and tell himself to be more careful, to make better choices, to not get passionate and ruin his life. He wanted to go back to before he was born and throttle himself, punch his mother in the womb, firebomb his own house, run himself over. He didn't want to do anything. Whenever he moved more people got hurt.

Behind him Melanie coughed salt-water down her top.

“Listen!” Sebastien interrupted Russells reverie. “We don't have time for this! Have you seen the island?” Russell didn't move.
“We need to take Melanie, and plug her into the island!”
“Theres no point, it won't work.” Russell said numbly.
“Its the only chance we have! Russell, c'mon, we have to try, else whats the point in anything?”
Russell shrugged.
“Russell, if you don't help us, then Melanie will die!” Sebastien called urgently. He slung the partially-conscious girl over his shoulder, and patted Russell on his. “C'mon. Not long now!”
Guilt surged through Russell. He rose, and took Melanie from Sebastiens surprised hands. Guilt oiled his joints and powered his brain and cooled his heart. “Lets go.” he said coldly.

He was left alone with the corpse which used to be his wifes.
“I...” Russell began, then stopped. What did he say. What could he say?
“I'm sorry, Ju. I...” his words got trapped between his teeth as he clenched, ground his teeth, then exploded. “I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have-” he let his breath out in gasping, wheezing, tear-filled torrents. What could he say?
“I should have tried harder.” he gasped through his tears. “I should have made you live. You...” he stared at the accidental bullet hole in the grave. “You're the most beautiful...”
“Cleverest...”
“Most passionate...”
He dropped to his knees and wept in the crematorium, a curled-up ball on the floor.