Chapter Nine
They were back in the same mysterious room filled with bright blinding light. Diego sat on the floor with his back against the wall and buried his face in his hands, completely crushed by the scene. Confused thoughts were rushing through his head, worrisome thoughts.
"I have only shown you a glimpse of the violence that humans have been drawn to over the years. There are so many more instances that we have witnessed of senseless murders; of enraged mobs throwing themselves onto their selected scapegoats like a hungry pack of wolves, tearing their victim’s flesh often with bare hands and not stopping until there is nothing left but a bloody mash that cannot possibly be identified as sometime being a living human; rapes; odious hate crimes; and even of children killing their own schoolmates." The phantom paused, looking down at the young caballero. "Do you still wish to serve such people, to give your life for them?"
Diego raised his head slowly and stood up, facing the phantom. His big hazel eyes grew darker with sorrow; a deep wrinkle crossed his fair brow. But he was resolute. "Humans are not perfect," he began quietly, "and there are among them those who are capable of committing such … monstrous things." He broke off, wavering, as the memories flooded him. The phantom waited patiently, while Diego collected his thoughts. The young de la Vega sighed and continued, "But there is also good in people, as much good, if not more. There always have been and always will be those who help others, who give love instead of hate, who try to save life instead of helping death. That is how we have survived. And if these people too will lose faith in humanity and cede to the other side, then there will be no more point in living." Diego ran his fingers through his hair. "I cannot allow that to happen," he added even quieter.
"Then you insist on continuing doing what you are doing, on remaining Zorro?"
"Sí."
"Humans do not value sacrifice for their sake; they almost never give their heroes their due – not until long after those heroes are dead are they recognized as being such. And whatever you do for them, it will not mean much, for they will remain as they are with all their vices. Many have tried to eliminate the evil and injustice in humans and failed. Believe me, I know. That means that someday you may be killed for a cause that is lost anyhow. Is that what you wish?"
Diego’s lips tightened, and he looked hard into the cold steely eyes of the phantom. "I will continue fighting to preserve life, señor," he said evenly and added, "and I do not think the cause is a lost one – there are many others who believe in it." He shook his head and smiled somewhat bitterly, "I have no wish to be famous, señor, nor to be a hero. I do this because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because I want others to sing praises in my name. I do not do this for the sake of glory."
The phantom’s stare lingered somewhat on the dark serious eyes of his protégé, scanning him deeply. "I know you don’t, my son," he thought, smiling to himself and closing his eyes for a moment to hide a spark of triumph that flashed in them. "Very well," he said, raising the flap of his darker-than-night cloak for the last time. "Goodbye then, Diego de la Vega, and good luck."
Alejandro de la Vega sat on his knees by his son’s body, holding Diego’s lifeless hand in his and rocking from side to side, stricken with grief. His thoughts were scrambling in confusion; tears were running down his cheeks, escaping from under his tightly shut eyelids.
A weak movement of Diego’s finger brushed the back of the old man’s hand with no more strength than a light breath of the summer wind. Don Alejandro’s eyes flew open, and his heart almost burst with joy as he saw his son’s eyelids flutter slightly. He squeezed Diego’s hand, waiting for him to regain consciousness. The gaping wound in his son’s chest closed up slowly in front of his bewildered gaze; and soon it disappeared without a trace, as if it had never been there. Diego moaned quietly and opened his eyes to find himself squeezed tightly in his father’s arms.
"I thought I had lost you, my son," Alejandro whispered, letting go of his firm embrace and giving Diego room to breathe. "When you were lying here … I thought … I thought that I will die too. And then … I do not know what happened … it must have been a miracle…."
"Sí," Diego replied softly, getting back on his feet. "It must have been." He thought back on his nightmarish visit with the phantom, and his eyes filled with tears. What if the phantom was right? All those senseless deaths, those terrible crimes that he witnessed and heard about – they have all happened or were bound to happen, and he could do nothing about it. Who was he, after all? Just one man – one man against what seemed to be the ugly reality of the human nature. What could he do? Give up? He gasped for air, nearly suffocating at that dreadful notion. He ran outside into the last moments of the retreating night. Troubling thoughts came flooding in on him again, almost crushing him with their weight. He looked around, hoping to find reassurance in the serene beauty of her who nurtured all living things on this planet – Mother Nature. His hand brushed pensively the dew-covered leaves of the nearby bush. His eyes rose to the brightening firmament and lingered on a few remaining stars that still hung there giving off a soft farewell glow – the last remaining children of the night. Diego took in a full chest of the fresh and slightly cold air and turned to his father who stood in the doorway, looking at him with a worried smile. A warm happy feeling spread inside the young man, reflecting in the soft sparkle of his kind hazel eyes. His mind was free of doubts forever. "It is good to be alive," he whispered, and a joyful trill of the first morning bird answered him as in confirmation.
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Epilogue
"He did very well. The Council is impressed."
"Yes," the first phantom smiled. "I am very proud for him. The likes of him are what keeps Death from ending the human race, and thus keeps us on the job."
"True. Very true," the second phantom agreed and then added more gravely, "It will not be easy for him, you know."
"Yes, I know," the first phantom frowned. "And he knows it too. But he will do his best." He paused for a second, looking into the eyes of the ghostly colleague. "He will have our help?"
The latter smiled, "As long as it is needed. Of course. With the kind of task that lies ahead of him, he will need all the help he can get. And we will give it to him, for the task is worth it."
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