Abyss (Songs of Megiddo) (22 page)

XVI
– Smoke and Mirrors

~ Dio ~

01/12/2023

“That’s not what I
asked.” Yvonne shook her head with a vague, disaffected species of resignation. “I asked if you’d killed.”

“And
I said ‘yes’.” Dio repeated back mechanically.

“You really don’t get the difference, do you? Between being
responsible for a death and taking a life? No two things could be more different.”

“Wright said
...” Dio paused. He’d forgotten the precise shape and contours of the argument that, last night, had been so very convincing. He still felt it though; the rough shove of conviction that the argument had instilled in him. If he didn’t know better, he would of suspected Wright of having some sort of power to manipulate minds; to bend the will; to augment emotion. Yvonne shook her head. She reached out, stroking his cheek with the tips of her fingers. She’d never been so familiar with him; so intimate.

“You’re not talking about people dying, here. You’re talking about
making
people die. Not because you’ve been ordered to, or because it was an ethical collateral, but because you chose to participate. How can you even think it, when we both know that you’ve never taken a single life?”

“And
you?” Dio snapped. “What do you know about it? Have
you
taken a life?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it. What’s more, he already knew the answer; in an abstract way, at least. He felt guilt surging up in his throat like bile as he registered the hurt in Yvonne’s eyes. He realised...too late...that he’d just shattered the covenant between them. In that moment, he hated himself beyond his ability to fathom that hate. His best friend... his only family: a woman that he loved with all his heart. And there he was...stupidly, selfishly tearing open the one door inside of her that she couldn’t bear to see reopened.

“
You know I have, Dio. You know. But I doubt you’ve ever really imagined the extent of it. Have I taken a life? I’ve taken a hundred. More.” Yvonne admitted sadly. The tears in her eyes were like knives in his gut. “The Damascus Incidents, back in twenty-nineteen and twenty-twenty? Those were dark days. A lot of us did a lot of things that we wish we could go back and change.”

“But you did it for the good of others, right?” He was ashamed to hear something of a de
sperate edge to his voice. He wanted the answer to be ‘yes’ more than he necessarily believed that it would be. And, he knew, it wasn’t just because he didn’t want to know that about her; that he didn’t want the way he saw her to change: It was also that, in some strange, twisted way, he felt like it would justify his position. The position that, sometimes...death was necessary to the creation of a better world. A small voice, deep in the back of his mind, laughed a bitter laugh...as if to say: ‘Who are you, Dio?’

In response, Yvonne gave him a look.
That
look. The look he’d seen a thousand times on the faces of innumerable Israeli girls back home. The one he received from them when he tried to argue about military brutality and excess. The one that said: ‘You think you know? You don’t know. You’re a man. The worst our enemies can do to you is kill you.’

“We’re nothing alike, Dio. This is not a road you want to go down.”

“It’s not your decision,” he shrugged. “Wright said that – ”

“ –
Fuck
...
Wright
.” Yvonne snarled. “What has he done to you? Why are you acting like this?”

“He’s opened my eyes,” Dio insisted.

“It feels like that, in the beginning,” Yvonne acknowledged. “But by the time you realise what a lie it is, you’ll have gone too far. You’ll be like me. And there’s no coming back from that.”

“Would it be such a bad thing? To have your closest friend see you more clearly?”

“You don’t want to be like me.” She said flatly. “You’re better than that.”

“I don’t accept that,” Dio muttered, as if that were the end of it.

“You can ‘not accept it’ all you like, Dio; but I have reasons – good reasons – for feeling that way. What do you think people like me did after Hezbollah started killing settlers? Do you think we went and politely asked them if they’d stop? No. Sarin, Dio. Sarin. VX. Have you ever seen what nerve gas
does
to a person?”

“No
...” Dio admitted.

“We killed them. We killed every one of them that we could find, and we were
glad to be doing so. If you’d been there, you’d have done the same. If you’d been there, you’d have
felt
the same, too. The rage; the hate: those animals were using that stolen, Syrian nerve gas to fight their war on our country through innocent farmers and traders; through defenceless women and children. And so we killed them...and it felt like justice. And if we had to do it while they slept in their beds? Then so we did...even if families were caught in the crossfire. We wrote them a message; wrote it in blood and death, and we kept writing until they stopped. We played their game and won; we made them
stop
. But we
didn’t stop. We couldn’t: there were others. Others and worse. And so we went after them, too. We went after the Syrians who started it all; we stalked them in the daylight and hunted them at night. Fatah...Hamas...their weak little friends, huddled in Gaza, East Jerusalem, and Hebron; if they weren’t respecting the armistice – respecting it heart and soul – they died. And that was right. We did...the right...thing. I never doubted it. It was meant to be the end of it; we all believed that, at the time...that it would end. When we saw squads and regiments of recruits and reserves, they’d be singing, and celebrating. We all believed that this was the last time. That we would finally unburden Israel of prejudice and hate, pushing in from without. But by the time we realised that it was just another mission; just another failure...we’d gone too far. Far too far, Dio. It was all just...too wrong.”

“Killing makes more killing.” Dio murmured. Yvonne looked him in the eye, reaching out to grab both sides of his face; ensuring that he understood just how important what he’d just said was to her.

“Yes. That’s exactly it. All killing is good for is making...more...killing. Don’t make the same mistake that they’re making. We’re
Jewish
, Dio. We
know
these people: Wright, and Galt, and Sudo...and whoever else there is at the top: trying to rewrite the destiny of the world in blood and ash. Them...and – apparently – the person that you’re trying to convince yourself that you can be.” She removed one of her hands, holding it in front of his face and folding fingers down as she recited her list: “The Arabs, the Soviets, the Germans, the Russians from
before
the revolution...the Egyptians and
Babylonians
, once upon a time.” She clasped his face again – tightly – and spoke slowly; clearly: “Any tear shed by any Jew in the whole of our history has been shed for the actions of hypocrites who believed – and believed
hard
– in things about which they knew nothing.”

“And us? We’ve been our
own worst enemies more than once.” Dio shot back.

“Like
you are now?” She questioned. Almost immediately, she softened: “You are right, though. But what people isn’t that true for? The point you’re missing, is that taking responsibility is easy, because by the time you have to take it, the damage is already done. At such points in time, you can either choose to take responsibility, or choose denial. You need to think at the ground level for once, Dio. You need to think about what it is to kill...and what it is to die. Only God has the luxury of the long view.”

“I didn’t think you
believed in God...” Dio replied.

“I
don’t. And if I’m right, then no
one has that luxury. If you are, Dio...then there is only one: and He isn’t among your new allies.” Dio and Yvonne stared at each other for a moment; Yvonne still tenderly holding Dio’s face in her hands.

“A
-
hem
...” Smoke cleared her throat. Dio and Yvonne both looked up; Yvonne letting her hands fall into her lap. Smoke stood in the doorway...one eyebrow raised and the other lowered to the point that it was obscuring part of her left eye. “Did I uh...interrupt something, here?”

“No. We were just talking,” Yvonne shook her head, getting to her feet.

“Like friends?” Smoke asked.

“Yes
.” Yvonne confirmed.

“The same way you
...sleep in the same bed? Like friends?” Smoke mocked. Yvonne rolled her eyes.

“We lived alone in a
bunker for a year. Our normal is a different kind of normal.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah. I get that.” Smoke nodded. “So are we gonna head the fuck out there, or
...” She pointed to Yvonne and then to Dio like a thought had just occurred to her, miming ‘you; with you?’: “Sorry, did you want to blow him, first? Like friends? Should I come back?” Unable to hold a straight face, she snickered mutedly.

“Shut up,” Yvonne
chuckled, punching at the top of her arm. Dio raised an eyebrow.

“Are you two
...?” He started, trailing off.

“What? Spit it out.
” Smoke rolled her eyes.

“Never mind.”

“What’s happening? Where are we going?” Yvonne queried. Smoke shrugged.

“
Wherever: it’s a beautiful day out, after all.” Smoke replied, saving every ounce of sarcasm for the second comment: “Bleak, sunless oblivion for all and fucking sundry, y’know?”

“Did you
want something?” Dio deadpanned. The cavernous ever-night of Palatine Hill was starting to get to him. Unlike Yvonne, he hadn’t had any trips aboveground to mitigate the claustrophobia.

“I want a
lot of fucking things,” Smoke smirked, glancing at Yvonne. Dio politely pretended not to notice. He knew – without a doubt – that if there
was
anything worth knowing, he’d know about it just as soon as Yvonne
wanted
him to. It wasn’t his place to pry. “But yeah. I’m here ‘cause Wright wanted to speak to the two of you. Well, actually, he just asked for
Dio
. But I figured – ” she nodded to Yvonne: “ – that you’d probably want to...y’know...accompany your minor.”

“Ha.” Dio grunted, reaching for his jacket. Yvonne just smiled. Smoke shrugged.

“Okay. Well I’ll see the two of you out there, then.” Smoke nodded, turning on a dime and making her way out. Dio slipped into his jacket, and Yvonne motioned at him impatiently: ‘hurry
up
, Dio’. He rolled his eyes so hard that he was genuinely surprised to find that he hadn’t accidentally detached at least one retina in the process. They left the room – falling into a steady pace behind the figure of Smoke – moving rapidly out into the streets of Palatine Hill. Dio nudged Yvonne.

“Does she seem
happier to you, lately?” He asked. Yvonne hmm’d noncommittally.

“Maybe she’s getting laid.” She suggested with a wry little smirk.

“Yeah...” Dio nodded a suspicious little nod. “Maybe so.”

§§§

Wright watched the troops march through the central square of Palatine Hill with thinly veiled disdain.

“I almost feel as if we should have given them jack
-boots and had them goose-stepping in smart, coordinated little lines. We could have thrown up some lovely facades; had it looking like Munich in the springtime...perhaps with some sort of flashy accoutrements. Ahh yes...do you know what I think
may
have done the trick?” He paused; his face descending into a dark, infuriated scowl as he growled a single, final word out through harshly gritted teeth: “Swastikas...”

“No
...no, I think that this gets the point across just fucking
fine
.” Smoke replied, folding her arms over her chest and moving to stand next to him. “No additions needed.”

“Yes, well
...none of this has anything to do with me, you understand?”

“Yeah. Totes. Even
you aren’t tasteless enough to invite a couple of Jews down to a secret, evil-as-fuck-looking underground city to watch the ‘Waffen-SS’ do drills.” Wright and Smoke exchanged a glance.

“It
is
rather on the nose...” He agreed.

“Yes, it is rather.” She imitated.

“Don’t do that.” He muttered, provoking an eye-roll.

“What the fuck ever,
Reichs-führer Wright.” Smoke tossed Wright a sloppy ‘sieg-heil’ salute. He sighed an irritated sigh. Leaning forward: looking past Smoke to Yvonne and Dio, he smiled an encouraging, earnest smile.

“I apologise –
sincerely – for the problematic symbolic overtones of this gratuitous little display.” He assured them. “But, moving on: how are we both this morning?” Dio and Yvonne nodded out a synchronised, mutually ambivalent nod. Yvonne had a lot on her mind. And so – after his conversation with Yvonne – did Dio. “You’ll both be pleased to hear that your intakes have been processed and confirmed. You will continue working together, but, in a radical step away from surveillance and analysis, you will be tasked with strategic coordination and tactical support.”