Matthew Tysz - The Last City of America

So it was that the mother of Obadiah mourned her husband, and then took her place as lord.

Her council consisted of elderly mercs, and was led by her father.

Chancellor Aden tried to keep the news of Adrian’s death from Mr. Velys for as long as he could, to allow him more recovery from the stroke. But Mr. Velys kept insisting to see his son. Finally, Aden sat beside him and they spoke. The next morning, Mr. Velys had passed away.

Commander Romulus Schmidt, also known as Captain Dicks, spent his evenings with his eyes on the horizon, while beneath him grew the place Don Masterson started. The commander vowed to carry on the vision of the legendary Tired Eyes, and make of what he started into an empire.

Analysts agreed that, sooner or later, one of the warring factions of Long Island would conquer the others. When that day came, a nation would rise. As to what that would mean for Obadiah, Analysts did not agree.

The weary people of Chicago, those who could not bring themselves to leave their home, took a long rest. When they woke, they would rebuild their home to fulfill a promise made to them long ago.

Pittsburgh took the title from Chicago as “the place to avoid.” Travelers who drew near, the ones who didn’t turn up on missing persons lists, spoke of humanoid beasts with boar heads and a hatred for everything that lived.

The people of San Francisco made it safely into the protection of Obadiah, each of them awaiting news of their savior, Lord Harold.

Angela wondered if she would ever remarry, and expected she would not. She belonged to her people, and to her daughter.

The boy who came to comfort her that day had granted her a vision of a future for her city. But she could already see a future for herself. She would not rule like a queen—she would take Obadiah through no revolution, would commit no controversial act nor produce some great idea. She would not drive history any further than she had. And she would not rule for very long. Her daughter would show competence at a young age, and she would train her for a short time before she became ready.

For the rest of her life, however long that would be, Angela would love her people. She would love her daughter. And she would love her husband, the father of Obadiah.

He realized now, at the end of a long journey, that he had stopped many times to gaze at something beautiful.

He stood on a high hill overlooking flat land and a dead city rising into an orange evening sky. War had all but emptied it, and Obadiah’s call took all the rest. Harold and the man sitting on a bench behind him were the only men for many, many miles.

“Los Angeles is beautiful this time of year,” said Harold.

“But the year is turning quickly,” Grakus replied, sitting on a bench behind him.

It was good to have time to think. Not to have to come to any conclusions, but to just… organize. He hadn’t had the chance to do that in a while.

“For the record, I didn’t mean all of those things I said back in Sacramento,” said Grakus. “I was upset. You did kill all my friends, after all.”

“I guess we’re even now.”

“Even? No.” Grakus was utterly motionless on the bench; somewhat somber, somewhat serene. “You came out on top. You owe it to yourself to acknowledge that.”

“Maybe,” Harold looked on. “But I’m not sure I’m enjoying it as much as I thought I would.”

“Give it time. You’ve been through a lot.”

Harold would be as old as Barnabas before he realized what this journey meant in its entirety.

“Where to now, if I may ask?” said Grakus. “Which rising kingdom will reap the benefits of your trusty little bag?”

“The bag is gone.”

A wind came. He didn’t feel it. It was far ahead, over the city. It sounded nice.

“Just when I thought at least one of us was walking away with something,” Grakus smiled. “Why?”

“I’ll chase my own mysteries. But I did keep one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

Harold slid his tongue across his teeth. Suddenly he was feeling hungry. “Instructions for making popcorn… I know it’s weird.”

“No… I get it.”

Another wind passed over the view.

“It took me so long to figure out what it was about you,” said Grakus. “How it could ever have been a man like you. When I finally figured it out, I laughed at myself.”

Harold answered with silence. He was feeling better now. His thoughts began to flow without barriers—a clarity he never knew.

“Life is a balancing act,” said Grakus. “Our responsibilities and our apathies. People don’t like to be conflicted. They seek ignorance. But you…” Grakus fumbled with his words for a moment, then laughed. “You cared. When you were forced out of your rabbit hole, you cared. That was the missing variable. And even a man like you could stop me. It’s a good lesson.”

Harold chuckled weakly. “We’ll be seeing you again soon, then?”

“Obadiah will flourish into a golden age,” said Grakus, “a bastion of good, while the world around it starts to take shape again. But as people will be people, the lesson taught a thousand times will once again be forgotten. And we’re back where we began. Maybe someday, someone will learn from my mistakes and prove my hypothesis. But my part in this world is played.”

“What about the rest of your life?”

Grakus shrugged. “I guess I’ll just sit here. Watch the city rot.”

“Then this is goodbye.”

Grakus stood, walked the short distance between them, dirt crunching under his feet. He extended his hand. “Goodbye, Harold Del Meethia. Don’t give up this journey for knowledge. It suits you.”

Harold might have enjoyed that handshake more had he known Grakus wasn’t going to pull something. He should have known.

He walked to the car which once belonged to the man who was once his enemy.

He knew the sores and bruises of this journey would heal, and something new would begin. Where he would end up, he did not know. But for now, he turned the engine on, put the car in gear, and drove to where the gray clouds parted in a small clearing to the east, to the last city of America.