Morpheus had explained why he’d decided not to tell his father about him. Joplin had to admit; he’d never been a good kid, and his adult life had not been much better; so, he couldn’t blame Morpheus for hesitating, after learning that he’d found his brothers son. But when Morpheus had said, that he’d made the decision, for a greater good; Joplin had ruminated on that but in the end, he’d concluded that nothing good had come from keeping father and son apart. Not one damn thing.
After the awkwardness of their reunion had passed, Morpheus summed up his visit. He’d been told that he had to clean up his mess, then clean up his act--or else. In other words, fix his Tollin shit--or die. Clean up his life--or die. He didn’t much like the clean up part, but he really didn’t like the dying part. He swallowed what it all meant to him, then he’d nodded, and agreed to whatever would keep him breathing on planet earth.
Joplin had been given one name and his instructions had been crystal clear. Morpheus had stared at him, stone faced. He’d said...
“When this job is done, report to this private airfield.”
He’d handed Joplin a set of coordinates, then he’d said...
“A plane will be waiting. Before you arrive, pack only one suitcase. Clear out your apartment because, you won’t be coming back.”
When Joplin had said...
“Destination”
Morpheus responded,
“Greece”
And that had been that. Joplin didn’t know all the specifics, but Morpheus had told him once he’d completed this job, he would personally make introductions. He’d said their names; Raal and Kyle, his father’s lover. None of it made any sense to him, and he wondered what had provoked his uncles sudden spark of conscience. Oddly, he understood why he’d chosen him for this mission--that part made perfect sense to him. After tonights kill, the secret concerning Tollin’s murder would leave with him; because after tonight, he would be saying goodbye to the America’s for a long, long time; if he valued his life. That was fine by him, because lately the country had become highly overrated.
Back to business, he’d thought, because the kitchen light had gone out. He considered his options. Shoot from here...or break into the ranch.
“What the hell.”
He said...because even if the window shattered into a million pieces, broken glass wouldn’t change the outcome. Not with the bullets he’d chosen. In fact...Andrew was as good as dead; the lying fuck. According to Morpheus, the governor had said that when he’d phoned Joplin he’d only asked him to keep Tollin away from his sister; what a crock. Joplin grinned, because he remembered the conversation. Andrew had instructed him to kill Tollin, and he specified that the murder should be an agonizing death. Putz that he was, Andrew had lied, placing the blame solely on Joplin. That was fine by him because if this angle didn’t work, there was always the up close and personal approach; just like he’d done with Tollin. He wondered if Andrew was a religious man.
He sighed, then he said...
“Yep...this business of killing is getting to easy”
Gloria was asleep in another part of the house, and Andrew’s wife had abandoned his bed years ago, after learning about her husband’s sex addiction. He didn’t have to worry about the women, and he’d been warned to avoid the mistake of collateral kills. He watched Andrew’s movements, until he settled in his bedroom, carrying an oversized bowl, filled with popcorn. Joplin smirked, because he spotted a large jar of petroleum jelly on the nightstand.
“Lover boy Wilcox. Sorry my friend, but you won’t need that tonight.” He joked.
He readjusted his scope, then he inhaled, preparing for the jerk, then the pop. When the shot rang out like a cannon, he lay motionless, then almost instantaneously, he witnessed the through and through slump of his head shot. It was done. Joplin lay on his stomach, moving away, using his sniper training to stealthily egress the area. He blended in like a shadow, melding with the surroundings. By the time the people in the house figured out what had happened, he knew that he’d be long gone, and the state police would be tasked with the job of solving this murder. After that, compromising secret’s would be leaked and the information would come from an anonymous source. The New’s stories would paint a picture of a man gone wrong, and he would be blamed for Tollin’s murder. He didn’t know who Andrew had pissed off, and he didn’t rightly care. His part had been played, and his involvement with the governor was done and over with.
Joplin’s thoughts went to Greece, and the new life that awaited him. He would take this secret across the Atlantic, and the truth would follow him to his grave. He would start over, being a better man. He considered, maybe the time had come to take a lover. Maybe the time had come to settled down, and find a wife. He looked forward to his future.
Epilogue
Caleb stared at the city from the north end of the floating commune. His concerns were threefold; his parents, Ona and Rachel; in every case a form of pandemonium had cumulated in upheaval. His parents had been greeted by Terra and Edward Dougherty, Geff’s parents. As minutes passed, Ona’s absence had sparked reason for concern. Everyone had taken their places at the table, patiently waiting for her anticipated appearance. When Aldeara had suggested to Terra that perhaps they should begin by serving the first course of the meal; at that moment, Caleb had noticed the crack in his mother’s calm exterior. He’d not been privy to the conversation between mother and daughter, and as such he didn’t know how Ona had responded to their mother’s wise counsel. When Geff’s mother returned to the table, spooning out her first dish, Caleb had stood while excusing himself, telling his parents that he would go speed his sister along. Several eyes turned his way, but out of respect they didn’t bother to stop him. Caleb wasn’t a Samaritan by birth, and even though he’d spent most of his life, learning and living surrounded by their cultural norms; in most cases, gut instincts dictated his actions. Due to the size of the barge, it didn’t take long to cover the distance from the Dougherty home, back to his parent’s place. Caleb had called out to his sister, and when his call had not been met with a response; he ran out of the house, then headed for the ferry launch. He’d stood there, and from that point he’d been able to see that the ferry had docked, and had already begun boarding the last of its returning passengers. Caleb had remained there, watching and waiting, even though his gut had already told him that Ona would not be on the last ferry for that day. He knew this because he’d seen his sister and Lucien, when they had not known that they were being watched. He didn’t have to hear the words to know that theirs was not a casual romance. He knew this because from the moment that he’d parted ways with Rachel, he’d not been able to free her from his thoughts. That’s what he’d planned to tell her when he and Noah had gone in search of their sister. Caleb wouldn’t ask her to take on a religion that he’d been adopted to, because he had decided that he would leave the Sect. He’d never met anyone quite like her, and he’d known that he never would. He’d been prepared to share this news with his parents mainly because he’d counted on Ona and Noah’s good news softening the blow of his decision. Now, he wasn’t even sure if his parents would recover from the humiliation over what Ona had so publicly done.
He pushed the nights events to the rear of his brain.
“No more” He said, because he didn’t know how much one man could endure. Caleb had reached his limits. He'd tried and for eighteen years he'd mirrored the lifestyle to near perfection. He'd studied the Creed and he could recite each passage verbatim. According to the Creed, every Samaritan had the life that they wanted; this included those they loved. The Creed teaches that people map their destinies. He believed that. He truly did. Yet in all that time living as a Samaritan, following the Creed hadn't protected his heart. He grunted because his efforts had been a joke. A ruse. He'd chided his sister, accusing her when the same emotions had tempted him, yet he'd never possessed the guts to express his adoration. All along he'd been in love with Rachel and he'd never tested the limits, telling her how he truly felt. He'd been a coward of gargantuan proportions. And what did he have to show for his love? Had guarding his belief been worth the tears that stained her unbelievably beautiful face? Would she forgive him if he crawled on his knees begging her to take him back? Possibly. Maybe. Take him back.... That was a joke because he'd never been hers to have. But he'd wanted to be hers...and he still did. He thought back to the Children's Center and the pleading in her eyes. Had it been worth it? When he glared at her, then yelled; telling her to mind her own business... What had he been thinking! Pushing her to her limits..... Him glaring at her; had it been worth her confused expression? He doubted it. He'd been a weasel and he hated himself for that. He couldn't begin to imagine Rachel's thoughts. He'd placed her on a pedestal and she didn't even know it. At the end of the day, nothing was worth losing her. Even if she didn't know how much he truly cared for her. He accepted, that it wasn't over for him. He would fight for her, if need be. And he'd never tasted the flavor of her sweet full lips. He knew that the time had finally come. His heart didn't belong to him anymore.