Morning arrived slowly and politely, as if not wanting to disturb those on earth who were still sleeping. The light also began to appear, like curtains being opened by invisible hands. This change in time was indeed a signal for nocturnal animals to return to their nests, while creatures that welcomed the day began to emerge as starting their routines.
Birds chirped as if singing while perched on branches still wet with morning dew, squirrels emerged from tree holes like a scene from a cartoon, and butterflies danced near flowers. All of this ecosystem activity took place in a garden surrounded by a building.
The building has a sign that reads, "Carsters Union Retirement Community." From the name alone, it is clear that this is a facility for seniors who are now retired after spending their lives working for themselves, their families, and even The Union.
In the middle of the park, a muscular man with a broad chest stood smoking a cigarette. He seemed to be focused on an elderly man that's sitting on a wheelchair, while he's enjoying the cool morning air.
The elderly man was wearing warm clothes with a hat on his head, which read, "Carsters Union," indicating that he had once been a member of that union.
Although his eyes were fixed on the beautiful morning scenery, many would agree that there was only emptiness in his eyes. At least he had lived his life for eighty-three years, no wife, no children.
He's so alone that even earlier this week he went to a coffin seller to buy one for himself when the time came. Even so, he never regretted the path he had taken, because he had already made that decision, so he would be ready to die with that decision.
While the elderly man was deep in thought, he suddenly noticed two people in neat suits approaching him, intentionally or unintentionally scaring the animals around them with their presence and insensitivity to the animals that had nothing to do with those two guy.
The big guy who's behind the elderly man also notices this, and he immediately narrowed his eyes and placed his hands in a position that resembled a cowboy with a revolver in its holster. But the elderly man, who was also aware of the large man's position, immediately gives a gesture for him to calm down, and the big guy finally obeyed his gesture and returned to his original position with his cigarette.
The unfamiliar couple had finally reached the elderly man, and one of them began to kneel and ask a question.
"Mr. Divettelli? Lucas Divettelli?" asked one of the men, the one wearing glasses and a brown suit.
"Yeah, that's I am," answer the old man in confirmation. He may be old, but there is still firmness in his voice, and even if the two strangers were asked if they agreed or not, they would agree one hundred percent.
"Sorry to bother you at this early in the morning," said the man with the glasses politely, but it still sounded like a template. "We are from the federal bureau. I am Agent Harold, and this is my partner, Agent Wallace."
As the elderly man, or Lucas, had suspected, the two men were FBI agents. In his former profession, he had dealt with people like them quite a lot, and the fact that many of his activities were surveillanced by them meant he was able to identify the agents who were following him in the rest of his life.
Like most FBI agents, as if it were written in their official handbook, the two agents greeted Lucas in a warm and caring manner. For example, they asked him if he had eaten breakfast yet, offered to buy him a cup of coffee, asked if he was feeling well, and so on.
Old Lucas realized that this was just part of their technique to appear friendly, and that they had come to him with a specific agenda that's involving him. Even so, Lucas remained relaxed in his dealings with them.
"Haha, that's a good one, Luke," said Agent Harrold to Lucas joke.
At least they spent seven-minutes just making small talk, sometimes telling jokes or funny stories that made the people involved laugh slightly.
"Alright-alright, let's stop breaking each other balls," Lucas interrupted, immediately changing the mood back to serious. "Why did you guys bother coming to visit this old man?"
The two agents looked at each other until the agent who's named Wallace says, "Mr. Divettelli, you know why we're here..."
Lucas didn't give a single answer, he takes two pieces of bread that had been prepared by his bodyguard, who was also his nurse, standing behind him. Lucas spread pineapple jam with his knife on the two piece of the breads, still maintaining silence.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, fellas," Lucas said, spreading pineapple jam over a slice of white bread. "If this is about the law, you'd better call my lawyer. Jonathan Hinks. He's the expert, I got nothing to say beside that."
"He's dead," Agent Harold cut in.
"Who's dead?" Lucas asked, pausing mid-bite.
"Hinks. Jonathan Hinks. He's dead, Luke."
Lucas slowly lowered the bread.
"He's dead? Who's shot him?"
"Nobody," Harold replied flatly. "Natural causes."
Jonathan Hinks was a hyperactive lawyer by Lucas' standards, and even in his late seventies years he was still very active in defending his clients. In Lucas' mind, Jonathan was the last person who would die before him. This news shocked him so much that he lost his appetite.
"Everyone's gone, Mr. Divettelli," Agent Wallace added quietly. "Dolerno, Tony Cats, Sally Boy, even the Old Man, they're gone."
Lucas kept his eyes on the garden, watching a bird hop across the grass as if the names meant nothing to him.
"He's right, Luke," Harold said, confirming his partner's words. "It's over, the game is over. Who are you protecting? They're all ghosts now."
The agents simultaneously stared directly at Lucas, clearly wanting something to happen, such as Lucas finally giving in and deciding to reveal even the smallest piece of information.
Harold sighed, holding Lucas's hand as he said, "But this isn't over for their missing families, who are waiting for progress on the case every day."
Shifting his gaze away from the federal agents, Lucas tried to act as if the news had not affected him, so that he would not lose control of the conversation. He tried to pick up a glass and pour water from the teapot into it, then finally took a sip.
After took a sip, Lucas says something, "sorry fellas, I'm afraid I can't help you, but thank you for visiting me for those seven enjoyable minutes."
Hearing Lucas' statement, the two agents couldn't hide their surprise; they just looked at each other, waiting for one of them to find a solution, but in the end, there was none.
"So, that's it?" Harold asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.
"That's it," Lucas replied bluntly.
Harold held Lucas' gaze for a few seconds longer, as if expecting the old man to add something—anything—to soften the refusal. When nothing came, he exhaled through his nose and straightened his tie.
"You know where to find us," he said at last, though it sounded more like procedure than hope.
Wallace gave a small nod, offering a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Divettelli."
The two agents turned and walked back across the garden path, their polished shoes grinding softly against the gravel. The birds that had scattered earlier slowly returned, reclaiming the branches as if nothing significant had happened.
Lucas lifts the glass again and takes another sip of water with his steady hand. He's keeping the expression on his face unchanged. Whatever ghosts the agents had tried to summon that morning, they would remain buried with him.
◆ ♠ ◆ ♠ ◆ ♠ ◆
After hearing the news of the deaths of his coworkers, every day felt different. The routine may stayed same, with same garden, same chair, but something inside him had gone quiet. There was no one left who remembered the life he had lived, no one left who shared the weight of those years. The silence he once carried with pride now felt heavier because it no longer protected anyone.
Being the last one standing did not bring him any particular joy, only a feeling of emptiness, as he waited for the moment when he would share the same fate as those who had gone before him.
On other hand, he also began to feel afraid of something. To quell that fear, Lucas began inviting a priest to guide him in prayer and ask God for forgiveness for the sins he had committed.
Sometimes during that time, he confessed to the priest, still without revealing information that could not be disclosed. Lucas knew he had sinned and violated God's will, but he still justified his actions by saying that what he did had to be done.
As time went by, Lucas also began to skip the activities scheduled at the retirement community facility.
The facility managers, realizing that Lucas now preferred to shut himself in his room, could not force him to go out, so they simply let it be.
"Eddie, just close the door halfway," Lucas instructed his bodyguard.
Lately, Lucas had also told the staff to close his door only halfway, and no one knew why. Lucas himself wanted it that way because he still wanted to see the activities taking place in the hallway outside his room, which was enough to calm him down.
"Alright, Luke."
Eddie adjusted the door, leaving it half open just as instructed. The hallway outside was still active, nurses pushing carts, distant footsteps passing by, faint conversations blending into a steady murmur. It was an ordinary afternoon, nothing special, nothing dramatic.
Lucas leaned back in his bed, his eyes fixed on the narrow opening of light that cut across the floor. From where he lay, he could see only a small portion of the corridor, just enough to remind him that life was still moving outside his room.
The sounds gradually softened as visiting hours ended. One by one, the footsteps faded. The murmur turned into a low hum, then into silence broken only by the ticking of a wall clock somewhere inside the room.
The door remained half open.
The strip of light on the floor slowly shifted as the sun lowered beyond the windows of the building, growing thinner and dimmer.
Outside, a nurse walked past the hallway without looking inside. While, inside the room, nothing moved is anymore.
Seen from a distance, the door was still half open.