Allie's War Season Three

by JC Andrijeski

  That time, I couldn't help joining them.

  I tried to hide my giggle in Revik's jacket, though, even as he tightened his fingers in mine, kissing the top of my head.

  WE TRAVELED THAT way the whole route to the hotel, and although the motion was more of a vibrating rattle once the crate had been loaded onto a transport vehicle, I had to pee and the smell of vomit only seemed to get worse in the warm interior of the organic walls.

  When seers at the hotel finally opened the crate upon our arrival, everyone on the other side of the doors winced visibly back, grimacing from the smell. A few I recognized, namely Anale and Morlo, burst out in a fresh spate of involuntary giggles, even as they covered their mouths and noses with protective hands.

  As for me, I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

  I unbuckled the restraining bands and practically vaulted over Jon and Wreg's laps to get at the opening, still fighting that sick feeling in the middle of my chest that told me I could hurl at any moment. Wreg and Jon, then Jax and Holo, weren't far behind, with Jon only semi-conscious as he leaned on Wreg’s good side.

  I watched as Jon fought to shake himself awake, blinking up at the sharp, staccato sound of hard sheets of rain hammering against the overhang to the deliveries area behind the hotel. Revik followed the other four out of the truck trailer a minute or so later, the delay just long enough for me to realize he must have helped unbuckle others on his way out. The realization gave me a twinge of guilt since the thought hadn't even occurred to me.

  But yeah, only a twinge.

  Still grinning a little, Revik jumped off the end of the truck.

  Seer medical techs already surrounded the truck’s bed, ready to escort Jon, Angie, Frankie, Jaden and the other humans to the decontamination and quarantine booths, which we quickly discovered had been erected in our absence.

  Balidor, who now stood next to us along with Wreg and Jax, said it would take a few hours to get them all through, so we might as well go inside and eat and make ourselves comfortable. They had to ensure none of the humans had the disease, of course, but they’d also developed tests to determine if any might be carriers by now, too. Jon had to go through the process for that reason alone, even though he’d been tested already.

  Lucky for us, they’d also determined that seers couldn’t be carriers, in addition to being immune to the disease itself, so we were all off the hook.

  Wreg grumbled about the length of the process louder than anyone, even though he’d designed the system of protocols in the first place.

  Even he didn’t disagree that Jon should go through the line with the others, though.

  Not far behind Revik, Sasquatch's large form appeared, his face deathly pale as he blinked into the bright lights of the delivery entrance to the hotel.

  I noticed he still wore the cut off skater shorts he'd been wearing when I first saw him at that house in San Francisco, shorts that had looked a few days overripe even then. He also wore the same band t-shirt, sporting a picture of a creepy doll's head with one eye missing. With his long, black hair and scraggly goatee, he looked like he hadn't showered in over a week.

  Really, he probably hadn’t.

  Behind him appeared Frankie, not looking a whole lot better, and still wearing that bizarre ensemble of black lace poodle-skirt, plastic jewelry that looked like it had been made for a little kid, combat boots and a tight, baby doll t-shirt. Angeline followed after her in paint-smeared overalls, then Jaden blinked into the lights in a fifties-style collared shirt and black pants, supporting Tina in his arms.

  Two of the seer techs moved forward at once to help him.

  The rest of us just stood there, watching them walk by as Revik shrugged.

  "I offered to help carry her out," he told me. "Jaden didn't want me touching her."

  "That's two of us," I murmured under my breath.

  Revik knocked into me with his shoulder, laughing. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want me touching you, either, my love. No matter how many times you remind him we're married...which I appreciated, by the way. I might have felt the need to do it myself, if you hadn't..."

  I rolled my eyes, knocking into him back. "Whatever...paranoia guy."

  "No," Revik said cheerfully, wrapping his arms around me from the side. "He hates my guts. And he's pretty confused about you, if you want the truth."

  "You read him?" I said, looking up at him incredulously.

  "Sure," he said, with an unapologetic shrug.

  "Why?"

  He rolled his eyes, as if the answer should be obvious.

  Somewhere in that, I saw a harder light pulse briefly in his irises, but it was gone before I could determine what that meant, either. He let go of me only to tug me towards the back entrance of the hotel with one arm. When I scanned past the door where he aimed our feet, I found it led into the kitchen of The Red Flag, the most family-oriented restaurant of the three in the hotel's lobby, and the only one that bypassed the whole quarantine area. I gave a final look out at the sheets of rain coming down, feeling weirdly reassured at being ‘home.’

  "I'm starving," Revik told me. "What do you say we eat, shower, fuck...then sleep for awhile?" When I snorted a laugh, he smiled down at me. "It doesn't have to be in that order," he clarified. "But I should warn you, I might want to fuck for awhile."

  Pain slid off him as he said it, enough that I glanced up at him.

  "You aren't kidding," I said, smiling.

  His eyes met mine. "Not even a little." His pain worsened when he felt my light react, then he tightened his arm around my shoulders. "Yeah," he said. "Definitely more than once...maybe we should take tonight and tomorrow off..."

  I nudged his ribs. "I'll need about a gallon of coffee first, if you're going to be that ambitious." Even so, I felt a coil of pain whisper through my abdomen as I thought about his words. I still felt pain on him, too, and more than simply from his flirting.

  It shouldn't have surprised me, I guess. It had been awhile since we'd gotten any time alone together. We hopped that plane to San Francisco a week after the wedding, and other than that one morning after the bank robbery, we hadn't had sex for about a year before that.

  As I thought about that, I remembered the penthouse we'd shared on the 60th floor...and its enormous shower...and let out a sigh. Then something else occurred to me and I frowned, looking up at him as we walked.

  "Isn't water an issue?" I said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The shower?"

  His gaze cleared, right before he shook his head. "We should be okay for now. The hotel pulls water from an underwater source, fed by the river. We have industrial purifiers right where it hits the mains." At my incredulous look, he smiled. "We're lucky the owners are even more paranoid than I am."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't exaggerate, husband. No one is more paranoid than you."

  Laughing, he knocked into me with his shoulder again. His gaze grew more serious when he added, "Actually, Arc Enterprises set that up. I'm hoping they helped with the security while we've been gone, too. Either way, we need to talk to their people..."

  "Yeah," I muttered. "I've been thinking about that."

  Revik shook his head, smiling as he tugged open the outer door to the kitchen, holding it open for me. "No more work right now,” he commanded, motioning me inside. “Not until after the sleep part of what I mentioned above. One advantage of traveling via the barf-mobile," he added. "We shouldn't have to wait for a table at Third Jewel..."

  I laughed, wondering again about the lightness of his mood, given everything.

  Maybe he was just trying to be a good sport, but it didn't feel like it. Whatever was up with him, it didn't feel forced. The happiness in his light shone easily, unrestrained, despite how tired he felt. When I went further into his light, I felt that fear there, too, along with some sadness, mostly about Cass and what we'd seen on our trip from the airport. Also, that part of him that always seemed to be planning kept ticking away in the background, too, i
ncluding around Shadow and some of the intelligence work he wanted to get caught up on once we dug back in for real. I also felt tastes of a deeper grief there, too.

  That one had flavors of Vash, Cass and even Feigran.

  Despite that, though, the overwhelming feeling I got from him at the moment was one of contentment, even joy. It felt so different from the other things that lived in his light, I couldn’t help but stare at him.

  He was still hiding something from me, though.

  I couldn’t get a sense of what it was, exactly, but it definitely had something to do with the conflicting emotions going on with him. To say there was a volatility in his light might have been a severe understatement, but nothing about it felt dark, just more intense than usual.

  Which with Revik, was saying a lot, really.

  "Are you finished scanning me, wife?" he said softly in my ear, wrapping his arm around me again and crushing me against him.

  Blinking, I realized we'd covered the length of the whole kitchen and I'd seen none of it, I'd been so intent on looking at his aleimi.

  "Yes," I said, stepping forward when I realized he was holding the door open for me again, that time the swinging door separating the kitchen of the Red Flag from the restaurant's dining room. Waitstaff smiled and waved as we passed and I grinned back. We didn't actually eat here very often, since before they mainly reserved their tables for human guests of the hotel, but I found I recognized everyone I saw, which cheered me somehow.

  "I think you might have offended Ragi in there," Revik commented. At my confused look, he smiled wider, adding, "...The head chef? He spoke to you as we passed...wished you long life and much joy...? You really didn't hear him?"

  "No," I said, frowning. "Should I go back? Did I really offend him?"

  "No, no," Revik said, tugging on my arm again. "I motioned him off...told him you were working and wished him a long life in return..." He trailed, giving me another sideways look. "Find anything interesting? On me, I mean?"

  I looked up and smiled, realizing he'd let me in intentionally, maybe more than usual.

  "Sure," I said. "Always. But mostly I was making sure you're doing okay. You know. Not just putting on a good face to reassure the masses. Or the missus..."

  Revik laughed. "I see. Did I pass?"

  I rolled my eyes, following him as he wove his way between empty tables.

  Given the time of day, the Red Flag was weirdly empty of guests, which didn't surprise me so much as the fact that the restaurant appeared to actually be closed. I used to joke The Red Flag was the 'Dennys' of the House on the Hill, partly because they stayed open twenty-four hours. The Third Jewel was open twenty-four hours every day but Monday and Tuesday, too, but it had more of an upscale, seer vibe, maybe partly because it was decorated to evoke the hotel's namesake in India.

  Despite their unusual closure, or maybe because of it, the Red Flag staff seemed to be cleaning and setting up tables with a lot of energy, as if preparing to get slammed. I looked around in some puzzlement, but since everything otherwise appeared to be business-as-usual, I decided to let it go.

  "There is no 'fail,' husband," I told Revik belatedly. "...But I'm glad you really are okay. Happy even," I added as we reached the front of the restaurant. “Although that could mean you’re bat-shit crazy, too, under the circumstances...”

  He laughed, but didn’t answer me, other than to shake his head, clicking.

  The freestanding 'Please Wait to be Seated' sign still faced the outside door, which was closed. One of the waitresses hastened up to unlock it for us, smiling nervously and making the honorific hand signs for both the Sword and the Bridge as she kept her face carefully below both of ours. I noticed her looking at me more than Revik, especially my body, but decided to ignore that, too, especially when Revik didn't seem to notice.

  Nodding politely to her and smiling, Revik waited for me to pass in front of him, his eyes still on my face.

  "...And polite," I added, making him laugh again. "...And old-fashioned. But then, you are going to be one-hundred and thirty-two in five days."

  "More old man cracks," he said, clicking at me in mock disapproval. "You know I'm still considered young for a seer, don't you? It's you who's indecently immature. We seers don't even hit middle age until three or four-hundred. And Elaerian are commonly believed to have average longer lifespans than Sarks..."

  "Is it my fault you're a pervert?" I said, grinning at him.

  He followed me through the door, shoving lightly at the middle of my back. "You're one to talk. Should I remind you of the last time we were in this hotel, wife...?"

  "Yeah, but I don't go looking for young seers to..."

  Losing my train of thought, I barely noticed when I stopped talking altogether.

  In fact, I nearly stopped thinking once we entered the sixty-story atrium.

  6

  COLONY

  THE FIRST THING I noticed was the line of people waiting outside the Red Flag's doors.

  It wasn't a short line.

  In fact, it was probably five persons’ thick at the thinnest point, which also happened to be closest to the entrance to the Red Flag itself. The line widened and densified and wrapped around obstacles on the atrium floor, extending back in a solid mass towards the sliding glass doors that fed into the walkway and ultimately, the hotel’s main lobby.

  Most who stood there looked human to me.

  Few wore the kind of clothes I'd grown to expect of your average guest staying at the high-end hotel. Meaning, instead of business suits or expensive blazers with designer jeans and slacks and hand-made jewelry and other accessories, most wore knock-off jeans and t-shirts, hoodies, department store blouses, beat up trainers and dingy-looking pullover sweaters.

  I even saw a few wearing flannels and work-boots, as if they'd just been yanked off a construction site. Only a handful of women wore skirts, and all but a few of those were definitely not of the high-end variety. Even more strangely, most of those standing in line were young, maybe teens to late twenties. A few might have been as high as mid-thirties, but I didn't see more than one or two who could have been much older than that. The expressions on their faces looked stuck somewhere between boredom and impatience.

  Whatever this ritual was, it was already familiar to most of them.

  I saw a few of those bored expressions change to surprise, even shock, once their eyes settled on me and Revik.

  Most of them gaped openly at us then, like we were celebrities, or mass murderers, or maybe both. Surprise might have worked to our advantage, though, because I quickly became concerned by the sheer number of them. Glancing behind me reflexively, I felt some part of me gearing up for either a fight or flight. After all, if my old friends from San Francisco thought me capable of mass-genocide, why wouldn't a mob of total strangers?

  No one said anything to us directly, though.

  In fact, the muttered conversations I’d heard as we left the restaurant abruptly stopped.

  I found I couldn't focus on any one of them for long, despite my paranoid shock at seeing them there in the first place. My peripheral vision eventually made sense of the remainder of the glass-enclosed space, well enough that I felt compelled to turn. Then I was staring at the atrium itself, almost forgetting the people despite the tension still coursing through my light.

  I'd expected things to be different, sure.

  We'd only been gone a few weeks, but I’d figured they would have secured the hotel in the wake of the quarantine, perhaps even in the days leading up to the lockdown itself. Even so, in those first few seconds, the sheer extent of those changes completely overwhelmed me.

  The waterfall remained in the middle of the atrium floor, pouring gallons of clear and clean-looking water onto the rocks situated just above a sculpted pond.

  Water crashed on smooth-worn boulders in echoing waves just as I remembered, almost dead center under the skylight itself, which hung at the very top of perspective-boggling walls that led up all of the
stories of the hotel. In that one, relatively unchanged thing, even the sound didn't echo up those walls at the same volume as before.

  I had to figure that was mostly because the room's layout had been altered such that a good chunk of that sound got muted from the lack of empty space.

  That thought led my eyes back to the rest of the room.

  The tropical trees and planter-boxes I remembered from before, filled with colorful flowers and climbing vines and palm trees and big-leafed jungle plants, had been removed. So had the tables, the padded, low-sitting chairs, the coffee bar and the semi-tropical alcohol bar that had once sat on opposite ends of the atrium's main doors.

  In their place, longer, deeper and wider planter boxes filled almost every available inch of space that made up the round atrium floor.

  The earth-filled boxes curved around canals like the loops in a Celtic labyrinth. As I stared around, I realized those same boxes had been built to fit precisely within and stand flush against the atrium’s walls, so as to maximize space. Tiny, bright-green plants stood in rows in the rich, red-brown earth already. They stood only inches high, at least right now, but it struck me that if enough of them grew tall enough, the room really would function as a giant labyrinth...like one of those hedge mazes, only with more visibility. The plants were too young to be able to distinguish much about what they were, but I knew the way seers thought. They would have vegetables, definitely. Grains. Probably fruit trees, too. Anything that could be eaten or might be used for some other purpose.

  But yeah, most of this had to be food.

  Once that much clicked, a few more things grew obvious, too.

  The pond below the waterfall’s crashing streams appeared to be darker than before, for one, as did the surrounding canals. Looking down at the nearest of these as we passed over a small footbridge leading to the main platform of the atrium itself, I saw that it had been stocked full of fish. The koi, which had sprinkled the water in colorful clusters prior to our leaving, appeared to have vanished...although, really, there was no way to know, as they might have been buried under their much more plentiful and less dramatically-pigmented new neighbors.