Divided- 2120

by Brian Savage

  He smiled to himself at the sight of her. The few weeks they had been in this place, he had seen her heal, seen her come back to life, seen her happy. He loved every second in the small, secluded cabin with her. The nights spent around a fire, reading by kerosene lamp, or tangled together in the handmade goose down bed had been the best he could remember. He hobbled over to the small breakfast nook table, set with napkins, and forks and knives for two, and lowered himself down into the small seat. He waited for her to notice him, not wanting to interrupt her dancing and singing to herself. She had discovered music from a bygone age in the valley where the cabin sat, and had immediately procured herself as much as she could find.

  She spun around, pan in hand, goose-stepping to the side as she mouthed the words to whatever song she had playing way too loud through the headset. She placed eggs from the pan onto two plates, setting the skillet back down on the top of the stove. She grabbed the plates and proceeded to dance over to the table. Smiling at Jack, she leaned over on one foot to plant a kiss on his lips, before placing the two plates down. She hit a button on the side of her headset and removed it from her head, placing it on the counter behind her chair.

  “Good morning, love. How do you feel?” she asked, still smiling at him as she sat down. Jack picked up his fork and dug in.

  “Sore,” he said, through a mouthful of eggs. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, joining him in eating. “I think I have finally mastered cooking on that stove. Remember when we first got here, and I put too much wood in it?”

  Jack chuckled to himself as he remembered her frantically running around the cabin, opening windows as the smoke from the charred remains of what was going to be their breakfast filled the small space. He had tried to help as best he could, but had been somewhat bed bound when they first arrived. A kettle screamed from the stove top; Aeralyn took another bite of eggs, then she jumped up to retrieve it. She opened the top of the kettle and began slowly pouring the contents into the basket of the old-fashioned, pour-over drip coffeemaker that sat on a hot plate on the counter.

  “Ben is going to come by this morning,” he said from where he sat. He saw a look of apprehension wash over her face, and noticed her shoulders droop visibly.

  “Is it about the help they need?” she asked, voice losing some of the cheery tone from before.

  “I’m sure it’s part of it,” he said, looking back down to his food. “They are also going to run electricity out here so we can get an actual stove, and lights and such.”

  She came back to the table, carrying two steaming mugs. She sat the dark, black liquid-filled one in front of him, and grasped the lighter, tan liquid-filled one in both hands. “Are you going to help?” she asked him, looking at him through the steam rising from her mug.

  “I plan to,” he said, taking a bite of bacon and chewing it slowly.

  “You don’t need to feel obligated to help,” she said, a hint of pleading in her voice. “Ben said they have it well in hand.”

  “I’m better trained, and more experienced than anyone on that team.” He looked up at her. “That training and experience could mean the difference in success or failure.”

  “Is that really it, or do you just have a score to settle?” she said emphatically, borderline angrily.

  “That isn’t going to hurt us,” he said, shrugging but looking down quickly. She had grown an almost sixth sense when it came to his hidden motivations. He wondered at the continuity transfers that the Host used and thought to himself humorlessly how vastly inadequate it was compared to the intuition of a woman.

  “I am going to help,” he said, setting his fork down. “I can’t not help. It’s not who I am.”

  She looked down, setting her cup on the table. “I know,” she said quietly, resigned to his decision. “I’m going to help, too.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

  She slowly chewed a bite of eggs before replying. “Ben offered me a spot on one of the teams. I told him I’d think about it.”

  “I don’t want you on a team.” He pursed his lips in annoyance that bordered on anger.

  “How many times have you asked me to stay put?” She smirked at him. “How many times have I actually stayed put?”

  Jack chewed his food thoughtfully, conceding the point. She had a surprising and infuriating habit of not doing what she was told. A habit, he thought gratefully, that was part of the reason he was here today. He looked at her in the scheme of where they now were. The secluded valley, nestled in the millions of uninhabited acres of a mountain range, somewhere within a four- to six-hour flight of City Prime, was a paradise on earth, albeit a paradise free of most of the modern technologies that both of the relative newcomers were used to. He had hobbled along beside her through the cobblestone streets, watched her barter for food, using the few things they had brought with them, and the word of Benjamin Waren, the old man. He had brought them here by way of plane, and to the plane by way of summoned gasser, the militaristically dressed driver conveying a massive respect for the bent old man as he held the door for the trio. The valley was the old man’s brainchild. He collected those without implants, and who had been de-assimilated, and brought them to live amongst the other inhabitants. No outside connectivity was allowed or utilized, the entire valley self-sustained by manpower, solar power, hydroelectricity, and a few old machines of bygone days. Whenever there was need of a specific skill set, or specific equipment, specialized teams were sent out to find just the right person or thing. Ben Waren had been the only member of the team to draw Jack in. He was extremely proud at his completion of said task, telling everyone who would listen how he had snagged an agent, and a Corporate techie, but admitting to them privately that a large part of the mission had been completed by Aeralyn, though he’d been completely unaware of the assistance she had given him.

  Jack finished his breakfast, both he and Aeralyn eating in silence, not quite used to being in a disagreement this early in their relationship. Jack picked up his mug of coffee, sipping it as he gazed out the window, and down the wooded path that wound its way from the more populated part of the valley and up to their doorstep. He could make out three figures, approaching slowly up the path before them.

  “Ben’s coming,” he said, breaking the silence.

  She looked up and through the window, feeling anxiety sliding up her spine. She stood, quickly, taking the now empty plates from the table and heading to the sink. Placing them down, she quickly rinsed them, before disappearing into the bedroom. She was angry with Jack, angry that the one rock in her life just wouldn’t stop moving. From the moment she had gotten to the valley, she had wanted to stay forever. She had grown sick of not knowing what the next moment would bring, sick of death and near death, and sick of the violence that had surrounded them from the moment they met.

  She slid the closet door open, and leaned against the door jamb, dropping her head and closing her eyes. She had slept more than she had ever slept in her life, and yet still, she felt tired. Not physically anymore, but emotionally. She didn’t want to venture outside of the peace that the valley held but knew in her heart that someone would have to, to ensure that peace. That knowing brought the dread of realization that Jack would be the first to volunteer to that duty. Inside her mind, she screamed at herself to tell him he couldn’t go. To give the ultimatum that it was her or the “new mission,” as Ben called it. Another voice inside her, Jack’s, quietly replied in exactly the tone and words he would use: “If I don’t go, it could mean eventually not having you.”

  She hated the logic she knew was sound. Hated that a part of her yearned for the instant gratification of a few more moments in his arms, more than a distant lifetime together that might come. She shook her head, and swallowed back the tears. She had volunteered for a team the day after Jack had told her of his new position as lead trainer, and his new place on Rebellion Team Alpha. She had heard Ben’s bragging to a
group of the others, about how the team that handled the most dangerous mission now had the best team lead they had ever seen. She had cursed at Ben in her mind.

  She heard the door open to their small cabin, and pleasantries exchanged between Jack, Ben, and Ben’s security team. She quickly pulled a long skirt on, over her bare legs, and replaced Jack’s old t-shirt with a form-fitting tank top to match the warm summer day. She closed the closet door, noticing the messy bed out of the corner of her eye; her compulsion for order wouldn’t allow her to leave the room before setting it right.

  She made her way back into the sitting room to find Jack and Ben sitting at opposite ends of the small couch. Through the front windows, she could see the back of one of Ben’s security team members, standing watch by their front door.

  “I brought you some more cigars,” Ben said, smiling and handing Jack a long, metal tube. “This one is from tobacco I just took down from the curing racks.”

  Jack took the cigar and twisted off the metal cap on the end of the tube, inhaling deeply, eyes closed. “Oh man,” Jack exclaimed, smiling broadly. “I think I’ll need to try this now.”

  “Outside, boys!” Aeralyn commanded cheerfully, her face a smile that revealed none of the inner turmoil from a few moments before.

  Jack and Ben smiled back at her, then looked at each other and nodded. Both slowly stood from the couch, each with a cane, and headed for the front porch rockers, set up with a view of the valley. Aeralyn watched the pair affectionately, a twinge of sadness at the stooped old man’s gait, and a spike of horror at Jack’s gait, which almost matched. She shut her eyes and mind to the thought that the missions could end up doing that to him permanently.

  The old Ben, and younger Jack, eased themselves back into the hand-carved oak rockers. Ben produced a cigar punch and a book of matches from the sole pocket on the front of his dark heather sweater vest. Jack accepted the outstretched flame, as he leaned over, wincing at the twinge of pain from his side.

  “Aeralyn said you offered her a spot on a team?” Jack asked, settling back in his chair, rocking gently, lit cigar in hand.

  The old man didn’t respond immediately, lighting his own cigar and puffing casually, shaking the match out and flicking it off the porch and into the grass. He took a deep breath, sighing as he likewise settled into the high-back chair. He rubbed the arm of the chair with his empty left hand, caressing affectionately the arm rest nearly molded to his hand by the many times he took his rest there.

  “I did,” he finally responded. “Acquisition Team B.” He pushed back with his feet, sending him rocking back and forward, feet coming off the ground at each subsequent movement back.

  “What type of acquisitions?” Jack asked, a bit too casually.

  The old man raised a bushy white eyebrow at him, an expression which said he knew why Jack wanted to know.

  “Personnel acquisitions,” he answered, blowing a smoke ring out across the porch. “I don’t know if you know this, but that girl of yours is a technical whiz. Better than any we’ve gotten so far.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, cigar hanging from his lips.

  “Dangerous missions?” Jack asked, not hiding his concern any longer.

  “Any mission outside of our valley is dangerous,” the old man said sternly. “Her missions won’t be as dangerous as yours.”

  “Can you fit her on my team?” Jack asked, already figuring the answer he would get from a man whose strategic know-how had amazed him with every previous mission he had been briefed on, and the upcoming ones Ben had told him he hoped Jack would be a part of.

  The old man gave him a look that told Jack what he thought of that question. “Like I said, your missions are far more dangerous; not to mention, I can’t have you sacrificing an entire team the moment she gets into any trouble.” The old man spoke without any judgement in his words, simply as a statement of fact.

  Jack nodded, knowing that it was true. He would sacrifice anything for her. She made her way through the front door and out onto the porch. Jack craned his neck, watching her as she placed a hair tie around the end of a tightly wound, dark braid, and walked over to them, skirt billowing around her bare feet. Jack noticed the head of the guard turn to follow her as she walked his way, and immediately felt the stab of jealousy, which was new to him. He glared a few seconds at the distracted guard before smiling up at her.

  “How are you, Aeralyn?” the old man asked politely, standing part way from his chair to shake her hand.

  “Fine, Ben, how are you?” She smiled at him, before sitting back on Jack’s lap. Jack took the moment to throw a smirk over his shoulder at the guard by their door. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders; he switched the cigar from his right hand to his left hand, freeing his right to rub her back.

  “Oh, I’m good, now that you two are here! I was just telling Jack how your membership on the teams could really turn the tide for us!” Ben was overly cheerful about a subject that was still a bit sore for the couple. They pretended smiles, politely trying to keep from saying anything further that would upset each other.

  “When would the next missions start?” Jack asked.

  “Well, your team has yet to get back from their current one. You’ll be busy training the teams currently in the valley until then.” Ben puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “I believe Aeralyn’s team leaves in a month for a quick grab and bag. We are having issues with the hydroelectric generator but have been unable to procure an engineer with the right level of know-how to work out the bugs. Those working at such a high level are being assimilated rather quickly and at a higher percentage than your everyday person.”

  Jack pursed his lips. A month? That was all the time he would get before she left…He didn’t like it. “That seems awfully short notice…” he said hesitantly.

  “It isn’t your decision, Jack,” Aeralyn said crossly.

  “It’s at least partly my decision,” he said, looking up at her.

  “If you are willing to go on even more dangerous missions, and chance your goddamn life to secure this goddamn life here in the valley, then I am too.” Her voice was a bit hoarse as the emotion she had tried to shove deep inside threatened to erupt. “I can’t just be here stuck in our home, not knowing if you are alive or dead, or worse.” Her voice had fallen to just above a whisper as her rant came to its close.

  Jack looked into her eyes, sparkling again with tears she kept from falling through force of will. “While the Host is out there, we aren’t safe,” he said quietly, pleadingly. “I would do anything to turn these last few weeks into what will be the rest of our lives.”

  “Then let me help make that happen, too!” she said, her turn to plead. “The missions won’t be as dangerous as yours, fuck you and your specific set of skills, but it’s how I can help make this our life.” She smiled slightly, sniffling as she still fought off those tears.

  Jack gazed up at her, still amazed by her beauty. He slowly nodded to her, before looking back at Ben. Ben sat there, eyes closed, puffing his cigar.

  Noticing the pause in the couple’s conversation, he opened one eye. “Have you come to some agreement?” he asked, opening his other eye and smiling at the pair.

  “If Aeralyn’s team leaves in a month, they need to start their training,” Jack said, placing his cigar to his lips. Aeralyn rested her head down his shoulder.

  “Better not go easy on me, love,” she said as he rocked her, hand sliding up and down her back.

  “Far from it, beautiful,” he said affectionately. “Acquisition Team Bravo is going to be the best damn team in the acquisition division.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

  “Well,” Ben said, tapping his cigar on the shiny, polished arm of the rocker, “welcome to the resistance.” The ash hit the worn wood of the porch, before being blown away by the light summer breeze.

 

 
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