Page 97 of The Circle

My stomach lurches. I am the one. I am the one he believes to have been made in his image. I am the one to whom he has always wanted to offer his throne. I am, indeed, the one to whom all is granted and to whom all is forgiven.

I am special. In his eyes. Because his belief is that I am him.

The only thing that can kill Alec van den Berg is Alec van den Berg.

“Yeah,” I say, turning to walk slowly from the stage. This time placing myself in front of Danny and between him and the gun pointed his way.

“Alec,” my father says, “enough. Eich, man, stop being so dramatic.”

It is barely worth noting the absurdity of that statement.

I approach the laaitie I don’t know… and place the barrel of his rifle in my mouth.

“Alec!” my once-and-again father yells out. “Stop this nonsense! Christine and Danny are free to go! Let them walk away so that you and I can—”

I reach to place my thumb against the forefinger of the laaitie whose hand is on the trigger.

“Alec, stop!”

I am not thinking clearly at the moment. I know this. But I don’t want to be. I’ve done too much, hurt too many, and left a moraine of carnage in my wake for too long.

This ends now.

“Alec!” Christine calls.

“Alec, fucking stop, bro!” Danny shouts. “Christine and I will walk. We’ll go. It’s fine. Just stop. This is fucking insane!”

I pull my mouth back, still keeping my hand on the laaitie’s, and turn my neck to face Danny. “You’re right, bru. It is. All of it. It’s all fucking insane. It has been ever thus. And it will continue to be… unless I stop it.”

And it is at that point…

That I ram the butt of the rifle back into the chest of its would-be gunman, wrench the weapon from his hand, and turn it around, pointing it at directly at the defender from the mountain.