The Fifth Seed

Peering through the thick, dense fog, like a lone, ominous eye it came toward him: a round object, at first only a glimmer of yellowish-white light, glowing dimly, and then ever so slowly brightening. Curt stood the only ground he had, fiercely clinging to a broad metal column rising up beside him, his knuckles whitening against the cold, brisk breeze that buffeted the Golden Gate Bridge. Below him, his sneakered feet rocked precariously on the outermost rust-orange rail, the final impediment separating pedestrians and cars from the churning waters of the bay below. In his mind’s eye he could sense the throng of observers who had stepped from their cars and now clustered on the walkway behind him. Their shouts to come down only vaguely registered in his troubled mind. Instead his thoughts centered upon the irony of his situation. For years his life had not been his own. For years he had longed to be free, to live as he chose, as he wished, and not by another’s code. Yet here he was tonight, finally free, as he had been for the last few weeks. Yet now his life seemed somehow even more unlivable. Curt knew all too well the darkness would eventually find him. He knew deep down, like few people could truly understand, that his captors were closing in, and that what lay before him was his only way out. He so desperately wanted to be away from them . . . those horrible people and the sheer terror of what they could do to him . . . and the things they could make him do. Teary eyed, he lifted his gaze skyward once more at the eye hovering out in the mist, parting the thick night sky. The light’s brilliance now accompanied by the deep thumping chop of helicopter blades as they beat the crisp autumn air with a vengeance. The hanging bird closed in, the spotlight finding Curt’s trembling body, bathing it in an almost spectral white glow, as the wind wash from the churning blades tore unrelentingly at his clothes. Curt gazed, nearly blinded by the light, trying to see past its beam, where he could vaguely make out the sleek, streamlined shape of the helicopter behind. His eyes fell once more to the blackness below. He couldn’t see the water—certainly there beyond the mist and darkness—but he could just barely hear its waves lapping at the bridge’s massive support columns, waiting for him. Yet what he heard next wasn’t the waves, and it sent a violent shiver through him, as though someone had just poured ice water down the length of his spine. It was a mere whisper, set upon the wind and delivered only to his ears. An eerie voice, that rose above all the others, was spoken with such softness it might have come from his very own mind. He knew its origin, though. He knew it was not his. It was them . . . it was him . . . The Fifth Seed. They had found him, just as he had anticipated, just as he had known all along they would. It was why he was here in the first place tonight, wasn’t it? Instinctively he glanced over his shoulder to see who could have gotten so close to speak this single word. So close he could almost feel the puff of breath tickling the short hairs on his neck. But he knew even before he saw—no one had come within twenty feet of his precarious perch. Now Curt knew he had no choice. If there was a part of him that would prevent him from tossing himself to the waves, it was now gone. His self-preservation instincts had suddenly been shoved aside by the wicked and foreboding voice that goaded him in a one-word whisper. “Jump.” Gathering himself, he breathed his last words, “Goodbye, Anna. I love you. I’m so sorry.” With that Curt heaved himself out into the air, his body seemingly hanging there momentarily before plummeting in a terrifying descent to the murky black of the turbulent water below. As the crowd looked on aghast—screaming out in combined shock and horror—a lone dark figure observed from a safe distance, finding immense pleasure at the sight. And riding on the connection that was just made, he offered his own parting words to the wind. “I’m coming for you, Anna,” he whispered, before fading away once more into the thick, hanging mist.