Before James Pleasant knew it, the car was slowing down. Everyone looked up as the car turned onto a newly paved road.

“They’ll know we’re coming from here,” Mr. Gonzalez said. Tomlin nodded. James was the only person in the car who had not been to the farmhouse yet. He squinted through the windshield looking to see if he could get a view of it.

“This paving is new. The farmhouse is still a few miles ahead,” Tomlin said. “You won’t be able to see it until we’re almost on top of it. It was built to be unobtrusive. It is huge, though. They could never actually hide it. They just hid what it contained.

“They have been improving the facilities with all of the new volunteers. They have to keep them busy. They realized they can’t all be hunting Frankie Names. There are a large number of them that are hunting him online. He never had much of an online presence, and they’re trying to keep news of him away from the mainstream press. They don’t want to have explain his actions any more than they want to explain their own actions.

“The farmhouse is crowded now,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “There are lots of workers and little in the way of security. Once we get to the executive wing, we’ll start running into trouble.” James knew what type of trouble he spoke of. This was the second time he was going to go in a place with his blade at ready. The first time he had not instilled much confidence in himself. He hoped the second time would be better.

The large plantation-sized farmhouse came into view. The name farmhouse was highly inaccurate for the estate. He could see where there used to be a bricked wall fence surrounding the compound. The wall looked like it had recently been taken down, parts of it still remained in relatively good condition. There were haphazardly parked cars everywhere with people milling around either trying to direct traffic or trying to get the attention of the people directing traffic. It looked like the audience for a burning man concert.

“This is a surprise,” Tomlin said.

“They broadcasted what they do and how to get involved,” Craig said. “You know how many people want to live forever? Nobody has a clue what they’re doing here except they all want it. It’s like a clinic that can solve all medical problems.” James saw what he meant. There were people in casts, wheelchairs, holding oxygen tank, and some just wearing hospital robes that were milling about the crowd, trying to get somebody’s attention.

“This is bad planning,” Craig finished.

“But will suit our purposes,” Tomlin said. “Get as close as you can.”

“No problem there,” Mr. Gonzalez said. He turned around the parking lot and followed the line of cars around the compound. He arrived at a guarded gate. Men with M-16s waited by the gate. They wore black jumpsuits and had a professional, military look to them. They wore black berets. There was a noticeable absence of a crowd. Some people milled around a few hundred feet away, but they didn’t approach the walls.

“They keep the people back with real bullets,” Mr. Gonzalez explained.

“Why don’t the cops do anything?” James asked, disgusted when he saw the folded bodies.

“If you were a cop, how would you resist a bribe that let you live forever?” Mr. Gonzalez asked. He hmphed in response to his own statement, clearing putting himself in the same boat as the rest of the military men.

He drove up to the gate and rolled down the window. The gate was over twenty feet tall and buzzed. There were electrified signs running all along the fence. Large metal poles were lined in front of the fence, blocking any cars from trying to run down the fence. The fence turned into a newly constructed fifteen foot concrete wall. The wall went around the smaller area that blocked off the back of the compound. Except for the black-clad guards, few people could be seen in this area. The lawn and garden here were well tended and groomed, and the compound in this area looked well kept.

“This is the real farmhouse now,” Craig whispered as Mr. Gonzalez chatted with the guard.

The guard walked up to the car and with a large black flashlight looked into the faces of all the occupants. “Any luck, sir?” the guard asked.

“The usual,” Mr. Gonzalez said.

“You brought back friends?”

“We’re all friends here,” Mr. Gonzalez said with a chuckle.

Craig waved at the guard. “Welcome back, Mr. Stevens.” He spoke into the walky-talky attached to his black jacket. “Open the gate.”

The gate opened and five more guards stepped out of the gate. They took up positions with their guns held up facing beyond the gate. The guard with the flashlight unlocked and lifted up the metal barriers. The whole process took about fifteen minutes.

“This is either high security or highly inefficient security,” James said.

“It’s the latter,” Tomlin said. “It’s all for show. If someone wanted to get in, these goons could do little to stop them.”

The gate and barriers were finally opened and Mr. Gonzalez drove his Ford through the gate and waved as he passed the guards. There was a small underground garage set back away from the compound that he pulled into. The underground parking lot was almost full, and Mr. Gonzalez took the last spot near the entrance.

“This is where the fun starts,” Tomlin said. She was the first out of the car and made her way to the trunk. She took out the case with their naginatas and swung it over her shoulder. “Let’s not be too overt until we have to. Mr. Gonzalez, would you like to take us to the inner sanctum?”

“That will be my pleasure,” he said. He looked determined now. The truth about his own mortality had taken him hard. He probably had thought that there was something else he could do to get the gift. James Pleasant knew the gift was not something that everyone could be given. “This is not a world of immortals,” Tomlin had explained to him. “It is a world of elites that have to protect the non-elites from the knowledge that we exist for their own good. Imagine how you would feel if you knew about us and knew you could never be part of us.” James did not have to look at Mr. Gonzalez to imagine it. He saw it in his face.

The underground parking lot opened into the basement of the compound. The compound was larger than the small part that opened up over ground. The underground parking lot was connected to a series of rooms that led underground. The lights were bright and full-spectrum. James could see how hiding out here for years on end would be possible in a worse case situation. He wondered if the farmhouse was approaching that type of situation. The crowds outside seemed to be getting out of hand. They had fought through many miles of cars and people to get where they are. If not for Mr. Gonzalez, they would still be milling around outside trying to find a way inside.

Mr. Gonzalez led them through the wide and brightly lit hallways. “This is new,” Tomlin said.

“When they were consolidating their power after Frankie Names blew up the building, they used the initial exposure to finance the enlargement of the farmhouse.” Craig Stevens did not look happy as he explained; he was probably thinking of the part he played in the outing of this lifestyle.

They continued down the hall. There were not many people in the hall. It was such a large space that James wondered why it was so deserted. He kept quiet and stayed close to Tomlin. He knew if it came to it, Tomlin would pull her weapon and drop the case so he could get his. They had practiced this procedure enough to know how it would come off. They just had never done so in combat.

They approached an elaborate door with a knocked that looked like the head of a bear.

“The inner sanctum at least hasn’t changed,” Tomlin said.

“Let us go pay our respects,” Craig said.

Tomlin put the case down and took out her naginata. James followed and removed the sheath on the blade.

Mr. Gonzalez reached into his coat and took his gun out of his holster. He held it pointed down as he pushed the door open. James was surprised to see that the door was not locked. He was surprised by much of what he saw in the farmhouse. This was not what he had been expecting. He as hoping the end would justify the wait.

Sitting inside the door were four people behind a large table. The table looked like a folding table to James. He had to resist the urge to lean over and check the legs. The walls were covered with plaques with names written on them. The floor was linoleum. The room looked much less impressive than the new area outside.

An older Japanese woman sat in the middle of the table. She looked up at the newcomers.

“What a surprise!” she said, although she did not look terribly surprised. “My sister finally graces the guild with her long overdue presence.”

“It is good to see you as well, Susaka,” Tomlin said. Besides Susaka, there were three men seating at the table. They were scribbling furiously on paper. One of them had a small computer open. He was leaning over the keyboard typing away, seemingly oblivious to everything that was happening around him.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be holding that silly blade of yours,” Susaka said. She was patting a sheathed katana on the table in front of her. Unlike her colleagues, except for the sword, the area in front of her desk was empty.

“Afraid I couldn’t fulfill all of your hopes and wishes,” Tomlin said. James took up a position next to her.

“Ah, and you brought a friend! This isn’t the notorious James Pleasant I’ve heard so much about?”

James looked over to Tomlin and saw the puzzled look on her face.

“You’re wondering how I knew, big sister? You always thought you were smarter and better than me. You were always claiming to be looking out for my own good, when you were doing no such thing. I’ve been looking out for your own good for many years, ever since you decided to quit the guild and lead that silly splinter cell of yours.”

The other door at the far end of the room opened and ten men dressed in black stormed into the room. They held submachine guns pointing at James and the rest of his companions.

“I thought it would be easier to have the conversation if you understood how it would end,” Sunaka said. “Even for you, my dear sister.”

Craig Stevens started to back away behind the group. The door behind them had not yet been closed. He turned and ran and gave a yelp as he backed into the room with another gaggle of men in black pushing him with their guns.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stevens,” Sunaka said. “We’re not quite done with you yet. Unless you do something stupid, you will survive this room tonight. I can’t make the same promise for your companions.”

The lights flashed off. James saw Tomlin move and he followed her. There were a few grunts and gunshots fired as James followed Tomlin across the room and toward the men in black. Her naginata was swinging with great force, taking off limbs and stabbing with great efficiency. James used most of his concentrating to avoid being hit by Tomlin’s own blade. They had spent much time training for fighting in darkened conditions. He did not think when the lights flashed off, he just moved. The lights came back on and Tomlin and James stood surrounded by bodies clad in black. Their naginatas pointed out toward the main table.

Sunaka had not stayed still either. She had unsheathed her sword and now stood on the far side of the table, the sword held at her sister.

A man clapped. He was standing with two mismatched companions on either side of him. One was an overweight woman and the other a tall thin woman. The overweight woman was holding two short swords in her hands. It was almost a comical scene, except that both of her blades were dripping blood, and the guards dressed in black behind James’s companions were on the ground moaning.

“The great Frankie Names makes his entrance,” Susaka said. She was moving her sword slowly from Tomlin to Frankie, who were on opposite sides of the large room. “It looks like the gang is all here. We’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Frankie. That little stunt you pulled at your birthday, that was quiet something.”

James could not imagine this ending well. He stared at Frankie Names. Except for seeing him on television he had never seen the man up close. He was shorter than he thought he would be. He was as impeccably dressed as he was in the photographs and television shows he had seen him. Here was the man who changed the world. The man without a soul.

There was much to discuss during that quiet time as the three sides faced off. The discussion was about the future of the world and the doom of the farmhouse. It was accepted that there was not much time left for the farmhouse. It would be overrun, and even with all of the improvements, Sunaka and the remnants of the guild would have to run and hide underground. There was no way the non-immortals would allow them to live. It had been too much to ask of humanity, and Frankie had known it.

And with a flash, naginata and sword and swords met. There was much blood, and everyone died a most spectacular death. The story ended with nothing resolved and nothing learned. So be it.

Daily word count: 2,372.

Words remaining: 0 (50,141).

And so it ends. I’ll write up my thoughts on this year’s Marathon tomorrow. For now I plan to rest my wrists and fingers, start my recovery from caffeine addiction, and try not to think too hard on what could have been.