by TR Kohler
“The United States.”
“Right.”
“You know many others with the pull to sneak a team in here?” Kidman replies. “Or any interest in doing so?”
Giving her head a quick shake, she breaks eye contact for a moment. Looking away, she seems to survey the others, looking for some sort of response, before returning.
“Ask me to return? Four guys with guns?”
“The guns were in case they ran into people like Hazik and his men,” Kidman answers. “Forgive us for not exactly thinking this to be a Caribbean resort where people walk right up to the bar and have polite conversations.”
A reply that doesn’t appear to be what she was looking for, her features twist up more with each word.
A pose that comes to reflect what Kidman has heard referred to before as teenage angst, attitude practically rolling from her in undulating waves.
“And as far as the first part, yeah,” Kidman says. “That’s the way it was explained to me. The United States government isn’t exactly in the kidnapping business.”
Snorting loudly, Anika lets her head rock back. A derisive action meant to relay her disdain before saying, “Still doesn’t explain you.”
“I was asked to come here by an old friend of mine. Someone I used to work with. Someone like us, that now oversees a program training and helping people with special abilities.
“The president called seeking her help, she then called seeking mine.”
Arms folded before her, for the first time since Kidman’s return, she says nothing. Her top teeth slide out over her bottom lip as she openly debates what was just shared.
A slight bit of an opening that isn’t necessarily a victory, but at least isn’t an outright defeat.
A pause to the caustic back and forth between them.
“That’s all this is,” Kidman continues, his voice calling her gaze back to him. “People needing your help.”
Extending a hand beside him, he motions to Wembo and the two aides. “I mean, I assume that’s how you ended up here, right? You have a rare gift and you wanted to use it for good? Help the people here?”
Again, he is met with silence. An open stare that doesn’t confirm what he is saying, but doesn’t flat deny it either.
Another tiny win he will take.
“Well, I have some gifts, too,” he adds. “I can hop across the globe in a flash and I’m pretty good in a scrap, so I propose a trade.
“I stay and help you here, you come back and help my friend keep her word to the president.”
Lifting his hands to either side, he finishes with, “I’ll even stay by your side throughout it. Jump you right back to wherever you want to go when it’s over.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“Incoming. ETA – three minutes.”
Back up in the same tree he was perched atop less than an hour before, Kidman doesn’t bother assuming his usual position this time. Balanced sideways atop the same branch, one hand is braced against the trunk of the tree.
In the other is the satellite phone, the texting feature displaying a trio of periods blinking in a slow progression. A visual display letting him know the message he just sent is transmitting.
A process that takes almost a full minute, the instant it goes through Kidman jumping straight back down. A total distance of more than ten stories covered in a flash, taking him from high above the rainforest floor to the small clearing behind Anika’s hut.
Her own personal mobile medical unit, deep in the heart of the jungle.
One that, in just a few short minutes, is about to be receiving an airdrop of fresh supplies.
“It’s sent,” he says as he arrives, pretending not to notice Anika’s brows rising halfway up her forehead. A visual reaction that is better than the full recoil she displayed inside the hut, but is still far from the nonchalance employed by Wembo.
A process that will likely take her at least a few more encounters before reaching such a level of comfort.
“Alright, they’re expecting me,” he says, his focus drifting down to the satellite phone still in hand. Balancing it across both palms, he calls up the camera feature on it and raises it to shoulder height.
Snapping off a trio of quick photos, he lowers it back before him. Checking them in order, he makes sure they give a clear image of his surroundings before clearing the screen.
An act that seems to draw even more confusion from the young woman beside him, a deep crease having now formed between the heightened brows.
“I have to be able to see where I’m going,” Kidman says without prompting. “Otherwise, I just keep disappearing and reappearing in the same place.”
The look remaining splayed across her features, Anika nods. A slow movement that drops her chin a few inches, the effort at processing what she is seeing so obvious it is almost palpable.
A pose that hints she suffers from the same problem as many of their kind. An error Kidman himself even likely made at one point long ago.
The belief that they are the only one with abilities. Enhancements. The power to do things beyond what their human corporeal form should be able to handle.
A mindset that definitely keeps them from imagining there possibly being anybody even stronger than them in the world.
“I see,” Anika eventually manages, it quite clear that she doesn’t. A weak attempt to move past whatever she just witnessed before taking a step forward.
Extending a hand before her, she offers a sheet of paper toward Kidman. A soiled page that was likely attached to some food or medical supplies long ago, now repurposed for their current undertaking.
A condition of the loose working agreement they came to just moments before.
Whether what they hammered out will work, Kidman doesn’t know. If she’ll make good on what was promised, he can’t be certain.
If he even had the rub to make such a deal, equally ethereal.
Things that he had to consciously push aside in the name of not only completing his objective, but doing so in a way that actually provides some good. Isn’t merely – as Anika put it earlier – merely another person extracting what they want, no better than Hazik.
“Here’s the full list of things they need,” Anika says, waiting for Kidman to take the page before dropping her arms by her side. Remaining rooted in place, she allows him to unfold the sheet and scan the items listed out before adding, “As you saw with Wembo, I can heal-”
“But it comes at a great cost,” Kidman finishes, understanding where she was going with the comment, fitting it against the items delineated before him.
Everything from basic sterile dressings to antibiotics.
Things that will help more than just a single person at a time. Even treat minor injuries and maladies without needing to employ her powers at all.
A possible move toward helping even more people, or perhaps setting them up for a future without her around all the time.
Questions that, like so many others, will have to wait for now.
“Fair warning,” Kidman says, scanning the list once more before stowing it away, “I just texted and told them I was en route, so I can’t promise they’ll have everything listed here.”
“I know,” Anika replies. “Just get what you can. Anything is better than the nothing they have now.”
Sliding his gaze over to the side, Kidman takes in the pair of aides standing by the front corner of the hut. Women that waited well over twelve hours before finally introducing themselves, revealing their names to be Keicha and Belvie.
Making no effort to hide their spying, they stand with arms folded, openly watching the exchange.
“What about other stuff?” he asks.
“Such as?”
“Food, water, whatever,” Kidman replies. Leaving the two women standing nearby, he returns his gaze to Anika.
The girl whose youth seems especially pronounced compared to them, standing in a patch of straw surrounded by goats. A teenager that should be far removed somewhere e
lse, focused on any of a hundred different things.
Items a lot less intense than providing healthcare and supplies to a small village in the Congolese rainforest.
“Hm,” she replies, considering the offer a moment, before adding, “like I said, just get what you can.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Kari Ma doesn’t have to so much as tilt her chin to see the text from Kidman arrive. Phone propped against the base of her computer monitor, she sees the words flash across her screen just inches below the face of Wilson Pruitt.
For whatever reason, the particulars of working the video conferencing program seem to be lost on the president-elect. Forearms resting flat on his desk, his elbows are flared to either side, allowing him to lean forward until his nose is just inches from the screen.
A stance that distorts his image tremendously.
To say nothing of his elevated voice, the man apparently believing he needs to yell to be heard.
Under most circumstances, Kari would not even bother acknowledging an incoming message while speaking to someone like Pruitt.
Almost anything, in fact, besides someone under her charge being out in the field.
Especially when said person is out at the behest of Pruitt himself.
“Mr. President-Elect,” Kari says, raising her voice slightly to be heard over him. Reaching out, she takes up the phone, wagging the front of it at the screen. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I actually just got a message from our guy in the field. He’s on his way here now.”
Unused to being cut off mid-sentence, the first thing to register with the man is surprise. A moment later, a flash of annoyance.
Both pushed aside in order by confusion, creases appearing the width of his forehead as he asks, “He’s en route as we speak?”
“He is.”
“But doesn’t that mean-”
“No,” she inserts. Knowing full well where the question was headed, she stops it before it is fully formed. “Remember when I mentioned in our first meeting a while back that there are a range of different abilities out there?
“Well, his is jumping wherever he wants, whenever he wants.”
Meant to stem any further questions, it is clear that the explanation only spawns more. Confusion floods in, visible despite the fillers and injections limiting the range of emotions that the man can fully evoke.
Things that Kari is not in the least interested in entertaining, leaving things with, “He is a teleporter, Mr. President-Elect, and he is said to be incoming. I’ll be in touch directly.”
The man’s mouth opening to reply, Kari cuts it off before he can get out the first sound. Ending the feed on the video call, she closes out of the program completely before grabbing up the cane beside her.
A promise of impending movement that draws Ali’i up from her post on the floor nearby. Cool floorboards where she can oversee Kari’s every coming and going, even listening in on her conversations.
A constant vigil that is about to be rewarded, the person they’ve both been waiting on set to arrive directly.
“Come on,” Kari mutters, the sound of her voice causing the dog’s ears to rise atop her skull.
Her tail to wag slowly from being addressed directly for the first time in hours.
“He’s waiting for us.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The door to the supply room flies open just as Kidman lands back at The Ranch. Swinging wide, the first one through is Ali’i, bounding toward him with lips pulled back. A canine smile that pairs perfectly with her exuberant energy, her entire body writhing as she makes her way across the concrete floor.
An entrance that can’t help but elicit a chuckle from Kidman, even given all that is occurring.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he says. Dropping to a knee, he greets her in kind, feeling her cool nose press against his cheek.
A pose he maintains as Kari Ma enters a moment later.
Noticeably more subdued, she inspects the mini reunion playing out before her.
“Had I known you would be arriving alone, I might not have rushed off the phone with the president-elect.”
Arms wrapped around Ali’i’s neck, Kidman hooks his fingers into talons. Impromptu claws to scratch at her short bristly hair, the attention pulling a series of sounds from her.
“Yeah, and had I known you were on the phone with him, I might have asked for the chance to get on and rip his ass for the shit show he kickstarted over there.”
Snorting softly, Ma replies, “That might have been the only thing received worse than the news about the men he sent over.”
Knowing there will be plenty of time to get into such matters during the inevitable debriefing, Kidman leaves the statement there. Giving Ali’i one last burst of attention, he unclenches from around her. Rising to full height, he makes a quick attempt to brush away her hair from his sweat-stained shirt before giving up on it.
Instead, his focus flicks to Ma before scanning the room around them.
A space that is lined with articles clearly useful should he encounter Hazik or his troops again, but a far cry from those requested by Anika.
Things he can return for later if need be.
“Do we have medical supplies here?” he asks. “Bandages, penicillin, things of that nature?”
A faint hint of surprise registering on Ma’s features, she nods slightly. “We do. Why?”
“Good,” Kidman replies. Digging into his front pocket, he removes the list put together by Anika and thrusts it out before him. “This is what the girl needs. Part of her conditions for coming back.”
Brows rising slightly, Ma glances from the list up to him. “Conditions?”
Wagging the list before him, Kidman waits for her to accept it. Turning it right side up, she scans the items scrawled out in Anika’s slanted handwriting.
“Yeah, well, suffice it to say, she wasn’t exactly onboard with the notion of just picking up and hopping across the world,” Kidman replies, pulling Ma’s gaze up from the list. “Hope you don’t mind, I had to get a little creative, cut a deal with her.”
Appearing ready to unleash a torrent of questions, Ma manages to hold back. Instead, she reaches to her belt and pulls out a phone.
Jabbing at it a couple of times, she presses it to her face.
“Hey, Doc, can you send a couple of the kids down to the storerooms for a few minutes? Have a quick project we can use a couple extra hands on.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, she stows the device back into position and tilts her head toward the door. “Supply rooms are down the hall. Explain while we walk.”
Slapping at the leg of his pants to bring Ali’i along, Kidman follows Ma out into the hall. A space that feels blessedly cool after days spent in the Congo, the air picking at the perspiration soaking his clothes, sending pinpricks of sensation the length of his body.
Enough to push a momentary shiver through his body as he goes back to the time since they last spoke, overviewing everything that has transpired.
Meeting Sanga and the others in Bukari. The attack from the local militia. His journey to the satellite encampment where he found Anika.
Witnessed the ability she possesses.
An all-out sprint through the last fifteen hours, omitting any chunks that don’t directly serve the narrative. Bits and pieces like his initial welcome into Bukari or even the injury sustained while helping Wembo pull the children to safety.
Things that have already completely passed, nothing but the memory of a few brief flashes of pain to show for them.
In total, the tale takes no more than five minutes. A story that encapsulates the majority of their walk, turning down a final hallway to see two young people on the far end waiting for them.
A boy with hair buzzed short and a girl with a plume of dark frizz extended out from her head like a miniature palm tree. Two of the small gathering in the lecture hall the previous day, both teenagers not much older than Anika.
When he is
finished, Kidman falls quiet. Moments to allow Ma to process what was just shared, superimposing it onto whatever she has working on her end. Interactions with the president-elect, a situation he can only hope he didn’t make infinitely more difficult for her.
“Any further word on the men Pruitt sent?” she eventually asks, the gap between them and their destination continuing to narrow.
“Nothing,” Kidman replies. “Anika mentioned there being some rumors of them in the area, but it sounded like they never even made it that far.”
Nodding slightly, she pushes on to her next question in order. “And this agreement you reached with her?”
Leaving it open ended, Kidman picks up on the direction it was going.
A fluency in speaking through half-sentences, developed over decades of interaction with the woman.
“I agreed to help her with her situation there if she’ll come back and help with the former president’s situation here,” Kidman replies.
“Help, meaning medical supplies?” Ma asks.
“Sort of,” Kidman says. “Mostly, it was the promise of on-the-ground assistance in getting the militia raids in the area to stop. The supplies here are more of a peace offering to help broker the deal.”
Gaze fixed on the pair of young people waiting for them, the two remaining on either side of the hall, making no effort to interact, Kidman allows one corner of his mouth to curl back. A half smile as he glances to his side.
“That a problem?”
“Problem?” Ma replies. “No, but your diplomacy skills definitely prove why they always tried with the State Department before sending us in.”
Unable to tell if the comment is meant in jest or as thinly veiled annoyance, Kidman waits until she glances his way, a flicker of a smile pulling at her mouth.
“Just, maybe next time ask?”
His own grin broadening, Kidman replies, “Will do. And since we’re on the topic, let me ask you this - was I as insufferable as a fifteen-year-old as this girl?”
A question that evokes one of the rare genuine cracks of laughter Kidman can ever recall, Ma replies, “Worse. You were that age for three years.”