The Holder of Exodus

[The following note was found beside what appeared to be the victim of an extremely messy suicide.]

My name is Christopher Holm, but you might know me better as “Investigator C.”

That was my handle. I found a very specific sort of thing for a very specific sort of person. I was very good at it. And it paid very well.

I never touched the Objects myself, of course. Too damn dangerous and horrifying. There was a lot of wealth to be gained from the people who were crazy or self-loathing enough to Seek them, and I was happy to take that from them without going into their realms personally. This arrangement worked very well for me.

Until one day, I decided to go for it.

I had a full set of info, and it was very easy. Almost nothing left to chance, very little personal pain involved. So I did it. I got my first Object. But after that, I was hooked. I couldn't bring myself to stop. I built myself a small collection, but it wasn't until much later that I realized the cost. I had lost so much in such a short time, and my only “gains” were these goddamn… things. I wanted out, and I thought I knew how to do it.

So I went to the bus station. I bought a ticket to “anywhere, just get me there before it all comes to an end.” I got on a normal-looking bus with normal-looking people and not a single person would look at me. So far, so good.

Then I waited. Days passed. People were starving, begging to be let off the bus, but the driver refused them, and I counted each refusal. Four hundred and ninety one, no more, no less. That’s when I loaded the Bullet into my gun, and shot him in the head. The door opened as if on cue, and I made sure I was the first one out. But I had to pluck the Bullet from his skull, first. It wasn't mandatory. But I just couldn't bring myself to let it go.

Everyone followed me as I led them through a seemingly endless wasteland. My path took us in circles, and many died on the way or questioned my leadership, but I said nothing. I had the Map. I knew the way. And I knew what They would do if I stepped off the invisible path.

Soon, we arrived at the sea. A ship was waiting, its captain calling me. “No,” I said. He offered again, and again I said, “no.” The others piled on, and the captain came down to meet me. I asked him, “What can free Them?”

And he told me the truth, too. It wasn't an eternity-long laundry list of things people have done. It was a short, simple answer, one that I knew in what was left of my heart to be true but didn't want to hear. Then he took my right hand, shook it, and sailed off into… wherever the hell they went.

Then I was back home. I had what I wanted. My hand, where he shook it, was wreathed in blue fire. The Fire of Exodus. Touch anybody with it, living or dead, and they will be sent away to a place free of all of this. Of the End itself. It was supposed to be my salvation… but what they don’t tell you is, you can’t use it on yourself. And worse, almost anybody who knows what is wants a piece of that escape. Like Them. They want Exodus. And They want it bad.

I know what’s going to happen to me if I take the coward’s way out. The Holders have told me in no small detail. Christ, they do love to share, don’t they? No imaginations. But I can’t stand it. They've been hunting me with such ferocity ever since my hand started burning.

Fucking Object 491 of 538. I hope the next guy knows how to use it better than I did.

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Last modified on 2013-05-17 13:01:57Average Rating: 2.14 / 5 (7 votes)Viewed 13646 times

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