CARTER'S DUTY: WILLIAM CARTER
III
Chapter 01 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
June 13th 2003
So much for life. Open defiance was his only recourse after
being backstabbed so many times he could no longer feel the pain. Will lifted
the cup of coffee, almost forgotten in his hand, and toasted the world. He
downed the cup in a single fluid motion and felt the warm liquid slide down
his throat to warm his insides. He would go on, as always; survival was the
one thing he excelled at.
Will turned his back on the city; he said a silent goodbye as
he re-entered his home, and within minutes his bags were packed and he was
ready to leave. And as he held them he took a final glance around the bedroom
and all the memories it held. He had closed the book on the love he had shared
there; he would have to move on.
He climbed down the stairs and walked into the study, his only
sanctum during the storm, taking the time to stare with hatred at the papers
that littered about his desk. All the time, all the work he had invested just
to succeed. He felt a sudden stab of rage and swore as he gathered the papers
together, swept them into the small woodstove and tossed the match in afterwards.
One last act of defiance against the company that he had given so much to
and that had taken so much more, but he would deny them the final victory.
He sat for awhile and watched the flames flare up over the paper, the steady
rhythm of the clock over the mantle counted down the time until he was due
to leave.
He picked up the phone and made a quick call to his assistant
Alicia, to ask her for a drive to the airport: he couldn't face friends that
morning, and he knew that Alicia would gladly accept a chance to say goodbye
to the one boss she actually enjoyed working for. He stopped a moment in the
hall and looked around him. He was lucky, his friend Jared had agreed to deal
with the house and any belongings that could not be taken; it was one less
burden for Will to deal with. And he shivered involuntarily; there was no
point to remain there and, with a self-satisfied nod, stepped out of his house
for the last time. His hand reached out to pull the door shut behind him.
The drive to the airport passed in silence. And, once he could
check his luggage they were able to sit awhile in the airport bar. He turned
the tasteless drink around in his nerveless fingers as he said goodbye to
a life he had reluctantly come to accept as his own.
"Look, Will," Alicia said as she watched him roll
the glass between his thumb and forefinger, "it's not like you to just
give up."
He set the glass down and glanced at the hands on his watch
as they neared the last hour before his time in exile was to begin and he
realized that the life that had been chosen for him was about to begin. A
new home, leaving everything he knew behind him. His life was being gambled
by other people and he hated it. He didn't want it, going halfway around the
world meant nothing.
"I have a job to do," he replied as he picked up the
glass again taking a slow drink; he felt old at that moment, ground beneath
the weight of his thoughts.
Alicia sat across the table and tried to make conversation,
to help to ease the moment with the kind of friendly support only fine Canadian
Rye could provide. But the intensity of the last week that had led to that
lone ticket back to London tucked into his passport had at last reached a
climax, and they both accepted that this was probably their final drink together.
Strangely neither felt sad at the parting, they both knew that it had been
inevitable, and accepted it as such.
"Well at least in London people will be polite when they
hang up on you..." Alicia joked at the expense of the company both had
been exploited by, and the memories of a shared camaraderie, tempered by the
closeness they had enjoyed, lightened the mood of the pair.
Will looked up and around him, the comfortable airport bar afforded
a view of the different people who arrived and departed from the airport that
was a gateway to different cultures. And Will remembered back to when he had
been a stranger who had stood upon Canadian soil for the first time. Now when
he sat there, made wise by experience and no longer a stranger, it felt as
though he was about to complete a journey he had started so many years before.
"I should go to the departure lounge," he said after
a minute or two of silence passed between them.
She looked sadly up at the clock, "I'm going to miss you
Will..."
He smiled, "My friends just call me Carter. " He extended
his hand to her and when she took it he drew her close into a tight embrace,
"Take care of yourself Ali."
She grinned at the nickname he had given her, "You too...
don't be a stranger, stay in touch."
The time for departures had arrived and they walked together
towards the gate. A final joke, the solemn promise to stay in touch, one last
goodbye, and Will stepped into the departure lounge, to shed his old identity
as he did so. Perhaps he had existed the last seven years with the hope of
that moment. The realization of the immensity of what was unfolding lightened
his heart; finally he stood in control of his own destiny and he could at
last understand the freedom he had fought so hard to gain. But at what cost?
The nearly deserted flight lounge offered a chance for relaxation
after all the stress of leaving who he was behind. Here he could lower his
guard, the fear that had hunted him so ruthlessly would shortly fade into
memory.
Will glanced at his watch. He traced the passage of time as
the hands drew ever closer to the final minutes there. There, in between identities,
between lives, he relaxed and reflected on how much time had changed the man
he was. The hard shell he had locked his emotions behind opened briefly and
he allowed the knowledge that his life was about to change set in. He had
come so far in such a short time; there he stood on the edge of the future,
at last free of all the constraints and imposed limits that had bound him
so tightly to a false sense of duty. He stood on the edge of his world and
stared out across the void to what lay beyond. A bright beacon of hope shone
in the darkness, it shone its light upon the passage that led him onwards
to his own destiny. He took solace in it; he had been betrayed, but at least
he could take comfort in the knowledge that he would make the most of the
chance to start over.
The boarding call went out, and the passengers rose and walked
towards the plane. On the watch face, the hands met and his time in exile
was over. As Will got up to board the plane the tensions of those long, past
weeks faded, and he felt reassured with the sense of hope that was his guide.
The rapid events that had led him up to that moment had perhaps passed too
quickly. Being swept along in the tide of events he had no control over...He
passed through the doors and handed his boarding pass across to the stewardess
and dispelled that first seed of doubt; no, it was not the time for doubts.
"Don't go!"
