by Loren Walker
So reluctantly, she slid under the scratchy tarp. Emir’s arm went around her bare shoulders, wet but warm, drawing her against his torso. Phaira stiffened and shot him a look, embarrassed by the touch, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I should have known better,” Emir was saying quietly. “I’m so sorry, girls.”
The word girls – it was said so casually.
Phaira let her temple rest against Emir’s shoulder, and for a brief, secret moment, she pretended she was his other daughter. The warmth lingered. She let it.
Then she sat upright and kept watch, waiting for the first sign of the sun.
III.
When the new day broke, and the freighter docked in a small fishing town down the East Coast, the three stowaways didn’t bother to hide their presence. Cold, thirsty and aching, Phaira, Emir and Anandi strode past two very surprised dockworkers on their way to the beach. Phaira could only imagine what she looked like, her hair tangled from the seawater, the dress in tatters around her thighs. Anandi fared better, her orange dress dirtied, but mostly intact. Emir looked the worst, gray and clammy, his cheeks sunken in. His hand drifted over to his heart every now and again, Phaira noticed. She wondered if Anandi had.
As the group disembarked, a silver ground transport rolled across the gravel, stopping just a few feet away. The door lifted without sound. From the darkness within, a woman stepped into the morning light, dressed in wool-and-bejeweled tunic and trousers, her black hair wound up in an elegant twist at the nape of her neck.
“Ulene,” Emir greeted the woman.
“Hello, Mother,” Anandi seconded.
Mother? Surprised, Phaira peered at the woman. Was there a resemblance? Not really, except for the black hair.
“I have everything you need,” Ulene said, her voice feminine, light but nervous. “This car is privately owned, no registration, no passports needed to get to Liera. Destination entered for the automated driver. Hospital scrubs to look the part once you get there. I have a kit inside as well, Emir; if you do a light transfusion, it should keep you in stable condition until you get there.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Anandi said. Her tone was awkward. “I’m sorry that I had to call.”
“Oh no, no. I’m happy to help, of course,” Ulene deferred, one shoulder lifted like a little girl.
Phaira stared at the family before her. There were hidden stories among these three. But she was too exhausted to care about family dysfunction. At least Anandi’s parents were both there, and willing to help her.
Then Anandi’s arm slid through Phaira’s. “This is our bodyguard, Phaira. She got us out of Nonni’s estate. Phaira, this is my mother, Ulene.”
Ulene extended a hand, and Phaira shook it, wincing at the pressure on her scratched palms. Ulene didn’t seem to notice, a strange, bashful smile on her face.
“We should go,” Emir finally said. “Ulene? Would you care to join us?”
“Oh!” Ulene said, surprised, releasing Phaira’s hand. “Oh, thank you, but I should get back to work. You should all rest. I’d like to know how things make out later, though, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Emir confirmed.
Anandi and Ulene hugged. Then a second gleaming transport pulled up, and the woman slipped inside, the motor soundless as it backed away from the group.
Inside the borrowed vehicle, Emir set up the transfusion tubes. Anandi extended her elbow for the hookup. Phaira flopped onto the white cushions as the door hissed shut. A faint rumble started beneath her feet. They were on their way, safe for the moment.
“Your mother is a bit odd,” Phaira said to Anandi, careful with her words.
“Oh, I know,” Anandi sighed. “She’s brilliant in business, and very nice, and I love her. But…” She made a gesture around her head. “She’s not always ‘present’, so to speak. Works a lot. Kind of whirls in and out of my life.”
Phaira watched as blood ran through the tube between father and daughter. What drew Emir and Ulene together in the first place? she wondered. They seemed so different, with such a strange mix of warm knowing and cool regard for each other.
Another question, though, hovered in her mind. And finally, she asked Anandi, feigning casualness: “What’s with you and Theron?”
Anandi huffed. “Oh, that. Our families have history. People in my family have historically been healers for Savas, ‘on the side,’ if you know what I mean. It’s why Papa quit the practice. That, and his condition, of course. They wanted more and more of his time. Too much interference and arm-pulling. It was making him even sicker.”
Phaira glanced at Emir. The man said nothing, gazing out the window.
“Nonni sure wasn’t happy, I know that,” Anandi rambled on. “You should have seen the fit she threw when Papa requested his inheritance to pursue this treatment.”
Then she frowned. “And how do you know Theron, anyways? I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard him talk. We were forced to socialize when we were really young, you know, always pushed together, and told: ‘oh, why don’t you two go play?’”
“We’ve met before,” Phaira said.
“Well, he’s turned out to be decent-looking, I guess, but he’s seriously weird,” Anandi warned. “I can’t imagine him as the syndicate head, how it’s possibly going to be successful -”
“Anandi,” came Emir’s warning voice.
Anandi closed her mouth. Phaira sank into the soft interior of the transport, mulling over Anandi’s words. Then fatigue wiped out her thoughts.
*
Liera Medical Center was located at the edge of the city, the office tucked into the eleventh floor of a dull gray building. From the sidewalk, Phaira counted each window, up and up. No alarms or cameras. Narrow ledges between windows. Service ladder access, but tucked away from public sight, only visible if someone knew where to look. She turned in a circle, observing the surroundings. Slow, lumbering traffic. Barely a trace of a sound of anything in the air. A good place to tuck away, and risk a life.
Access to the eleventh floor was accessible by passcode only, entered by Emir. On the other side of the door, Dr. Sabik was there to greet them. He was an older man with coffee-brown skin, a neat mustache and round chin, his grey hair in a short, frizzy ponytail. He and Emir embraced, Sabik giving the other man a thump on the back. A sign of encouragement? Anandi didn’t look reassured at all.
The long corridor held doors on either side: doors to facilities, exam rooms, and one with showers. Phaira begged off the rest of the tour, and within minutes, she was in the hot water, rinsing off the salt and muck of the night, revealing scratches and bruises underneath. Her feet were a mess, but it was tolerable. Scrubs sat in a folded pile outside the shower when she stepped out. Burgundy and scatchy, but far better than the tattered mess of a dress she dropped into the trash.
When everyone had cleaned themselves off and dressed in fresh clothing, the threesome met in Dr. Sabik’s office. Phaira surveyed the room. Certificates, books, the usual design. Eerily quiet, though. Did this doctor have no staff to assist him?
“Phaira, is it?” Dr. Sabik was asking, sitting on the edge of his desk. His eyebrows knitted together in a thoughtful stare. “Emir, I thought you only had one daughter.”
“I do,” Emir clarified. “She’s a friend, here for moral support. But she could use some clarification on what’s going to happen in the next few days.”
Anandi’s fingers slipped into Phaira’s hand. Her palm was still damp from the shower.
“We’re attempting a permanent solution to Emir’s blood disorder. The treatment is a literal ‘reboot’ of his system. Certain points are stimulated, chemicals pumped in, complete flush of the system, infused with fresh donor blood. The process should take about a week. Ideally, by then, his body will be stimulated enough to produce the enzymes needed for blood clotting. There is significant risk to Emir in doing this. Brain damage, cardiac arrest. But I will watch him very carefully.”
Phaira wasn’t
quite sure what the doctor was talking about, but she nodded just the same. “When do you start?”
“I wasn’t sure when you would be arriving,” Dr. Sabik mused. “So I need some time to set up the equipment. Tomorrow morning? You can all stay here. There’s space for overnight guests, rooms on the right, nearest to the elevator.”
I need to check security in the meantime, Phaira thought. Even with all the cover, we’re all wanted now by the law…
“Sabik,” Emir interrupted her thoughts. “Will you take Anandi to those suites? I need to speak to Phaira privately.”
Dr. Sabik nodded, but Anandi recoiled. “Why?”
“Please,” Emir told his daughter. “Do as I ask.”
Anandi looked at Phaira, stricken. I don’t know what he wants, Phaira told the girl with her facial expression, shrugging and widening her eyes.
Anandi’s shoulders slumped. She dropped Phaira’s hand and shuffled out of the office. Sabik shut the door softly behind them. Then it was just Emir and Phaira in the room.
“Do you understand what will be happening, Phaira?”
“Enough of it. Why?”
“Because there’s a good chance I might not wake up.”
Phaira’s stomach clenched. So, he was making his final arrangements. Before she could stop, the words spilled out: “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Anandi shouldn’t be bound to an old, sick father. She deserves to be free.”
“She may not have that choice,” Phaira warned him. “Sooner or later the law’s going to catch up with us. I can’t hold them back forever. If she’s not careful…”
“If this is successful,” Emir said quietly. “If I come out of this alive, I’ll take her place. Turn myself in for the crimes.”
“You can’t do that,” Phaira hissed. “You can’t. It would kill her to know that you sacrificed -”
“Send in the doctor,” Emir politely cut her off. “Perhaps you could check on Anandi. Make sure she’s handling all of this well.”
Phaira’s impulse was to argue with the man. But discomfort grew between them instead. He wasn’t her father. She had no power to change his mind. So Phaira did what she was told.
At the end of the hallway, one door was ajar. Inside was a small suite with two twin beds, two dressers, and one cracked window overlooking the city. Anandi sat on the bed closest to the door, looking at her feet. The weight of Emir’s decision bore down on Phaira’s back. Trying to set it aside, she asked the girl: “Can we call Renzo and check in? Before we shut off all contacts?”
The question woke Anandi from her stupor. She took the encrypted Lissome from the bedside table. “Quickly,” she reminded Phaira. “The network is hot right now. No more than five seconds.” Then she left the room: to wander, to eavesdrop, Phaira couldn’t guess at her inner life right now, nor did she want to. Intead, she punched in the cc to connect to the Arazura.
“We’re clear,” she said when she heard the familiar click. “Trouble, but at the end-point now. Keep offline for now. Guards up.”
An intake of breath on the other end; Renzo was about to speak. But Anandi said no more than five seconds. No choice but to disconnect, and only hope he wasn’t about to tell her something awful had happened.
The Lissome began to buzz again. Did Renzo call her back? Quickly, Phaira broke the connection.
Ten seconds later, the Lissome came to life again, buzzing patiently. Phaira stared at it. Then she felt it: that familiar flutter and sink in her chest.
Who else could it be?
*
Wearing dark trousers, wool overcoat and leather gloves, Phaira’s satchel slung over his shoulder, Theron had his back to the building, head tilted back to look at the grey sky. Phaira stared at him through the lobby window. What was he looking for? Why was he here?
Wary, Phaira finally pushed open the glass door. Theron turned at the sound. He held a box in his arms. One side of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Delivery.”
Seriously weird. The most he’s ever spoken to anyone. Anandi’s words floated through Phaira’s mind as she tentatively took the box from him. Yes, her two Calis pistols were inside, hidden under a swatch of cloth. Then Theron laid her satchel at her feet, like an offering. She tapped it with her toe. “What did you tell your grandfather?”
Theron’s smirk faded. “That you were auditioning to be my bodyguard. And the party was a test on current security measures. Which everyone failed, miserably.”
Phaira couldn’t help it. She laughed like something burst inside of her, laughed until tears formed. “That is the worst story I’ve ever heard,” she gasped. “Then why did I take Emir and Anandi along?”
“Because you were their current bodyguard. I said that we arranged it all on the balcony. They believed it,” Theron said, a satisfied ring to his voice. “They believed it even more when I convinced the officers they were in error.
“Hence the reason I’m here, besides as delivery boy,” he added, averting his eyes. “To work out the terms of the contract.”
Phaira’s laughter died. She wasn’t available for hire, not for the kind of work that the Sava Syndicate did. She’d made that clear, again and again. How could he make that kind of claim to his grandfather?
“Well, that, and to find out why you’re angry with me,” Theron said, interrupting her thoughts. “I thought we were – well - friends, at least.”
Phaira exhaled through her nose, set down the box and straightened to her fullest height. He still had at least six inches on her. Dammit.
“You lied to me,” she told him shortly. “And you threatened my family.”
Theron frowned. “I never threatened your brothers.”
“No, but you snuck around to spend time with them,” Phaira said pointedly. “That’s what you said, remember? You were ‘assessing me at all angles?’ And it just so happens that Cohen gets kidnapped by your cousins, I get involved and shot - again, I might add - and by the end of it all, your cousins are dead and you’re the king of the world. It’s very convenient.”
“That’s what you think this was all about?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “Some big master plan to get you to kill my cousins, so I could take over the syndicate?”
Wasn’t it?
“You do think that,” Theron muttered. “Well, you’re not the first to throw that theory at me. I know how it looks.” He sounded oddly disappointed.
“What’s the truth, then?”
“I told you, I knew what Keller was planning. And I knew he had recruited Huma for protection. But I wasn’t involved. And I wasn’t trying to get you involved, either. But then I saw – I mean, when you told me about Huma, what she did to you and your family, I could figure out what might happen. You were going to confront her, kill her, even. That’s why I worked with Renzo on HALOs; that’s why I tried to warn Cohen away from Keller. To try and ensure you had the means to get out alive.”
As he spoke, Phaira studied the sharp angles of his face, searching for clues that he was lying. But questions still swam around in Phaira’s mind. She looked away and leaned to the right, balancing the box in one hand as she bent down and picked up the satchel with the other. In the motion, she caught sight of his boot, scuffing the ground. Then he spoke again: “Do you ever think about that week?”
Phaira froze. The beach town in the north; his strange house of windows. She’d spent a week there, recovering from trauma, hiding from the world, only a month ago (was it really only a month?) He served as her unexpected host; they trained together, shared a few odd, poignant moments. One of the better weeks of her life, if she were honest with herself. But she couldn’t say that out loud. What if it was just thrown back at her? She straightened back to standing, avoiding his gaze.
“I just thought – I might stay in Liera,” she heard him say. “And maybe I could see you again. For longer than five minutes.”
Her upper arms prickled, and her face grew hot. Mortified, Phaira ducked her head. “I have to go.”
And she spun on her heel and hurried back into the building. The lobby door closed and latched behind her.
Behind the cover of mailboxes, the heat in her face receded. Then a wave of shame followed.
But Theron was already gone.
IV.
The next morning, Emir was officially admitted for treatment. Anandi remained with her father and Dr. Sabik as the process began. Phaira walked down the long hallway, dragging her fingertips against the rippled wall, back and forth, the hundred foot stretch again and again, a hypnotic, distracting loop as she waited for news.
Finally, Anandi emerged. The girl walked as if through water, wandering in the direction of their shared room. Phaira couldn’t think of what to say to her. So, she offered her arm.
Anandi leaned into Phaira with a surprising heaviness. “I don’t know what to do,” she finally said. “I’m not ready to see him like this.”
“I know, but he has a chance at a full life,” Phaira told her. “Not only for him, but for you.”
“I’d rather he be with me than take the risk and die.”
“Well, he’s doing all this for you,” Phaira said shortly. “I don’t even know what that feels like.”
Stopping her trek, Anandi peered up into Phaira’s face. “I don’t think I ever asked you about your parents. Or any of you. You three always seem so self-contained.”
“Because there isn’t anything good to say about it,” Phaira deferred, opening the door for Anandi. “You should go and lie down.”
“Are they alive?”
“No.”
Anandi waited. Phaira shook her head, one tight swing.
Disappointment on her face, Anandi brushed past. Standing in the threshold, Phaira pressed her mouth together. She never talked about her parents at all, not to anyone. But the girl needed some kind of comfort. She probably wouldn’t even hear half of it, so consumed with her father’s health.
So Phaira tried to be brief. “Our mother died when we were young,” she announced in a rush. “And our father was mentally ill. They found him about a week ago. Stabbed.”
Anandi whirled around, shocked. “You never said! Phaira, I’m so sorry -”