AH-64 Apache helicopters flew in v-formation, thundering over the crater. Their mission was simple: to bring upon widespread obliteration.

"Misfit team, this is JTC Bagram speaking on ECM-reserved channel 240.350. Target is confirmed. Leave nothing standing, over."

"JTC Bagram, wilco. Misfit 01 to all units, you heard the boss. Bring all weapons systems up and go hot on the entire village."

"This is Misfit 03, copy that. Going low-low, zero-two, zero-three, and ready to engage."

"This is Misfit 05, thirty-mike-mike gun is online, ready to engage. Time to kill, time to die."

The chain gun munitions blazed overhead and pulverized the horde into flat pieces. The Apaches zipped away along their flight path of destruction. Rescued, but not fully out of danger yet, Alberto continued onward, weaving through the village with the route he mentally drew.

The earth below trembled as the airstrike continued. Smoke and shrapnel both filled the charred air as if gravity had been canceled. Aesop took over the channel and spoke on behalf of Alberto, "This is Alpha Two AI, calling Misfit flight team, watch your fire! Agent Perez is still in the crater!"

"Misfit leader to Alpha Two, that's a negative. We see you on thermal but you are still inside our blast radius. Get the fuck out ASAP!"

"You imbeciles!" yelled Aesop, displaying its most authentic human emotions. Meanwhile, Alberto kept his focus. His breathing and running had synced into a perfect movement. He thought about his past, those missteps, and the would-be reality had he not set foot in the Woodstock Expo. Because of Rosario, he ceased being alone.

At last, they escaped from the fire zone.

And once he surfaced from the crater, Alberto stopped and gasped for air. He saw Blackhawk transport helicopters idling on the ground. His new boss, Diane Rutgers, appeared out of the cabin, accompanied by medic soldiers.

The medics came up to Rosario. They then placed her on a lightweight stretcher and secured an oxygen mask on her. "We'll take over from here!" the sergeant shouted.

"Sir, you may want to bid farewell here," Aesop reminded. "From this point forward, Miss Sosa will go through a long medical treatment. Then the judicial process will take over. After all, she was a member of a terrorist organization."

Alberto held her hand, one that dangled from the frame. During the Woodstock fireworks, it was this hand that brought him to the Zephyr. That moment, he would always hold dear. It was her grace and conviction that completed him as a person.

He folded her fingers, tucked them beneath her heat blanket. He kissed her forehead and wished her a safe journey onward. Soon, the rotor blades picked up speed. The chopper carrying Rosario flew off and carried dust beneath its belly. When it diminished into the mountain valley, Alberto whispered, "Goodbye."

Alberto's mission was over. He sat over the crater edge to watch the ongoing operation. The Apaches were unleashing streams of unguided rockets, drowning the village in a sea of cleansing fire.

They swerved from one place to another, in swift and decisive movements. As they hounded the dead and strode above the flames like judgment day angels, their rotor blades rumbled in a mesmerizing motion.

The Four Winds cried in agony, whether real or illusionary. Its cellular tower, too, crumbled into a pile of burning wreckage. Human savagery, it seemed, was the right solution to stave off a global catastrophe.

The shrine had fallen, the dominion had been defeated. The love and wisdom outlined in the Four Wind's manifesto, the world would never get to appreciate.

"Mission accomplished," said Rutgers. She turned back to her helicopter, eager not to stay a minute longer. "You need a ride, Agent Perez?"

"Thanks," said Alberto. "But my truck's still here."

"Leave it," said Rutgers. "Some of our guys will come back later to do battle damage assessment. They'll take care of it."

Alberto thought about her offer, but after twelve months and eight days of chasing the Zephyr, it was time for some seclusion. "Best if I drive, ma'am. Need to see the scenery. Take my mind off things."

"That's a long drive," said Rutgers. "Up to you. Just don't be late for the debriefing tomorrow morning."

"Yes ma'am."

She boarded her chopper, while the rest of the Blackhawks were ready to depart. As their rotor blades revved up to obtain lift and thrust, Aesop spoke up. "Sir, there's something you should know about Miss Rutgers."

"What now?" asked Alberto, tired of surprises.

"Remember when the Five Eyes' AI guardian caught you for hacking its network?" it asked.

"Sure," replied Alberto. "Lucky the civil liberty people stepped in. I got off lightly."

"Yes, but as it turns out, the credit does not fully belong to them."

"What do you mean?"

"It was Miss Rutgers who called the Attorney General," Aesop explained, "and asked to have your case reconsidered. At the time, she had just returned from a failed mission in Eastern Europe, which resulted in the death of innocent civilians. No one knew why she interfered with your case. It might have been out of altruism, or perhaps out of her wish for redemption. Either way, she specifically asked to remain anonymous."

"That means she knew about me from the beginning?" asked Alberto. All this time, he was aware of an undercurrent that stretched from the past to the present. But he had been looking in the wrong direction. "Wait, how do you know this? Did you access the Deep Web?"

"Best if you remain ignorant," said Aesop. "Suffice to say, the Five Eyes AI guardian appreciates a good fable every time I visit her."

"Her?" said Alberto. "You're dating now? Lord have mercy, my AI has gone rogue."

As the Blackhawk helicopters took off, spreading the sands afar, Rutgers gave Alberto a mid-air salute. The wolf pack gained altitude and trotted into the horizon. Alberto became alone, held between the edgeless earth and the starless sky, left to his newly earned closure.

The road. Alberto was driving, and his inner world was extraordinarily tranquil. No thoughts, no urge to wonder what his future might hold, just both hands on the steering wheel while he hummed an old tune. He gave thanks to the sun, greeted the sky and the roving hills. Joy was a drink, indeed, and for the time being, he would sip it slowly.

"Sir, would you like to hear a fable about destiny?"

"No."

"A traveler, wearied from a long journey, lay down on the brink of a deep well. And being within an inch of falling into the water, Dame Fortune appeared and said..."

The End