by Amanda Cyr
“Well…” I began, not at all sure where to go from there.
Fortunately, Ramona was happy to chime in again. Her eyes glossed, and she sighed dreamily. “Can you imagine? My son, serving his country.”
“Aw, Mom.” Tristan chuckled. He sneered at me from across the table, like he knew how much the conversation irritated me.
I took another drink, hoping it would help with putting together a delicate rejection. “It’s very difficult to get into the S.O.R. If he’s serious about serving, then he should apply first and work up through the General Field.”
Governor Granne responded with a booming laugh. He waved his hand dismissively and said, “No, no. He belongs in the S.O.R. I was just telling Brigadier McKee so the other day. He said he was welcome to apply. I said I’d send him with an application and a generous donation.”
“What do you think? Wouldn’t he make a fine soldier?” Ramona beamed.
Unbelievable. They were really going to send him back with me. They were going to send their spoiled, soft-handed son to D.C., thinking he would become a dog in the S.O.R. with no work at all after I’d spent my entire life fighting to get there. Any desire to let them down tactfully vanished. Pandering to this delusional family’s idea that Tristan Granne could ever fill my shoes was something I couldn’t do.
“No.”
Ramona gasped. It sounded like Tristan knocked something over, but my focus was on the fidgeting governor. He looked positively dumbstruck, and I’d only begun.
“The S.O.R. is for the best of the best,” I continued. “People can work for their entire lives and never get in.”
“He’s a fast learner,” the governor insisted.
“Yeah,” Tristan added, slamming his fist on the table. I glanced at him. He’d puffed himself up to try and look bigger, tougher, and fit for duty. To me, he just looked like some kind of deranged bird.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Good. Then you can start in the G.F., and maybe in ten years, you’ll make the cut.”
The governor’s face went beet red, and he opened his mouth, bringing a hand up to point a finger at me. Ramona smacked his hand immediately. Her eyes locked on her plate as though she didn’t know where it was safe to look anymore.
“Charles, that’s enough! We shouldn’t be making light of what he does,” she piped. The governor silenced, and his wife looked up at me, cheeks red even as she tried to smile and not let her embarrassment show. “I am so sorry, Lieutenant Colonel. That was very rude of us.”
The rest of the meal went by with tense bits of awkward conversation. Ramona tried her best to lighten the mood. I felt bad for the poor woman struggling to keep the failing dinner party together, and for her sake alone, I relaxed into the setting. Finishing my second glass of wine helped, too. By dessert, we were getting along again, and nobody mentioned anything else about Tristan going to D.C.
“So, do you think you’ll be staying with us for the remainder of your visit?” the governor asked.
He didn’t know I was supposed to leave tomorrow. Not even the governor knew the city was coming down. The thought made the chocolate cake hard to stomach. I couldn’t tell them what was going on, though; it wasn’t my place to disclose that sort of information.
“I think it would be better if I went back to collect more data,” I lied. “Not like I’m going to get a lot on those revolutionaries if I’m sitting here eating cake.”
“But you’re wounded,” Ramona said.
“I’ll heal quickly. Dogs are given daily boosts of amino acids, protein, and half a dozen different vitamins. I should be pretty much back to normal in two or three days.”
The ugly, little-known truth startled them. To avoid their shocked stares, I stuffed another bite of cake into my mouth. Ramona laughed nervously and changed the subject. “Well, did you learn anything interesting? About that group I mean.”
“Brigadier McKee hasn’t sent you the reports?” I asked. That seemed strange. What was the point in having me here if he didn’t report back to our sponsor?
“He says he’ll send the full reports when the mission is over,” the governor said. “What can you tell us? If you don’t mind, please share what you’ve learned.”
“They aren’t any real threat,” I replied, hoping that would satisfy them. The governor and his wife looked anxious to hear more. Tristan looked even more haughty than usual. My wine glass looked empty.
“Okay… Well, um, there’s a bunch of them. They’re spread out in different bases around the city, and I spent my time at the main one.” I avoided mentioning the actual address of the base and skipped straight to its inhabitants. “There were seven of us living there, not including the kids.”
“Kids?” Ramona interjected.
“Yeah, there were three of them. One of the girls kind of adopted them.”
Ramona shook her head disapprovingly. “Children can’t take care of children.”
“They’re a responsible group, actually. Between Fritzi and Tibbs alone, the brats had as good a family as any.” I chuckled. “They all look out for each other over there…”
The more I thought about it, the more I missed it. The strange smell of damp clothes, dusty surfaces, and Fritzi’s cooking. The sound of Tibbs roaring and chasing after the three tots, followed by loud crashes as one of them broke something in the parlor. Benji showing off an old magic trick to impress Michael and Finn in the foyer. Jayne grumbling as he watched them from a rickety chair the dining room, while Anya and Gemma gossiped at the opposite end in a fit of giggles. Val sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette and waiting for me to come back.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you any more. Technically, I’m not supposed to relay anything unless Brigadier McKee gives the okay” I said, biting back the lump in my throat. It was a bold lie, considering the contact the governor had been keeping with Aiden.
“Oh, that’s understandable,” Ramona said. She was halfway through a long-winded apology for their prying when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Would you excuse me?” I said, already on my feet.
“Yes, certainly,” the governor said. “Everything all right?”
I smiled to fool them. “I’m just getting a headache. One of the side effects of morphine, you know.”
Of course he didn’t know, but the governor nodded anyway, and I took my leave. I walked quickly back to my room, and the second the door shut, I fell against it. My hands shook as I rubbed them together, forefingers pressed to my lips.
I told myself I had no reason to worry. I was going home tomorrow. Back to my real life. Reminding myself of that, however, only made my hands shake harder. I exhaled a long, loud sigh around them.
A vibrating in my pocket startled me. I pulled my phone out and read the incoming text from Aiden. Glaring at me along the top of the screen was a red, missed call icon with a small twelve next to it. Twelve missed calls. I forced myself to focus on Aiden’s text and not think about who had called.
You awake yet?
Aiden must have heard about what happened. I looked for my bag so I could change out the memory cards before I called him, only to realize I’d left my bag in the back of the supply truck while helping to unload it. Losing the card wasn’t a big deal, as it was encrypted and designed to only work in my phone. Losing my bag, on the other hand, was bothersome.
I slid down the door to sit on the floor as I called Aiden. He picked up on the second ring and answered with a cheerful, “Way to get yourself shot right before you’re about to leave.”
“I thought it would make a good addition to the debriefing paperwork.”
“So you decided,” Aiden snorted before he even got the punch line out, “You decided to go out with a bang?”
Aiden laughed so loudly at his own joke that I had to hold the phone away from my ear until he calmed. It was the loud, giddy laugh he only used when he’d been drinking.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Drinking, but
not drunk; thank you very much. Seriously, though, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” My free hand settled over the bandage hidden under my shirt. In the background, I heard a squeal, which definitely hadn’t come from Aiden.
“Hang on, Nik,” Aiden said to me, and then shouted at the giggling girl, “Nishayla, quiet down for a minute! I’m on the phone with some cereal, erm, I mean serious, work stuff!”
Aiden grumbled something; I wasn’t sure if he directed it at me or Nishayla. I heard him scramble over something, followed by the sound of a door slamming and a long sigh from him. “Okay, sorry about that. Women.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine. Cereal,” I said with a small laugh.
“Ha, ha, ha. Make fun of my words all you want. Just remember you’re going to be within socking distance this time tomorrow night.”
He sounded plenty excited enough for the both of us, but I still tried to sound enthusiastic about returning to D.C. “Yeah, well, we’ll have to go out or something after the debriefing.”
“Psh, the debriefing can wait a day. I’ve already got plans made for us, and let me warn you now, buddy, you’re going to forget all about stupid Seattle by the time we’re done.”
Forget about Seattle. My half-intoxicated mind twisted the notion before I could stop it. Forget about Val. I swallowed hard, grinding the back of my head against the door like it would somehow snub out the thought.
“Awesome,” I said, even managing to laugh for Aiden’s benefit. I couldn’t keep it up. I blamed the morphine, the alcohol, and anything that wasn’t Val. “Hey, I’m going to get some sleep. Go back to your lady friend.”
“You sure you’re feeling all right?”
Aiden could tell something was on my mind. I didn’t want him worrying about me, though. It would lead to prying, nagging, and confessing to things I didn’t even feel like thinking about. “I’m fine, Aiden. Just exhausted.”
“… Right, well, I’ll go ahead and send you the itinerary for tomorrow. You’ll be on the train until Boise, and then it’s a nonstop flight back home from there. Now go get some sleep.”
“Can do. Night, Aiden.”
When the call disconnected, my phone flipped to the home screen. The little, red icon in the corner blinked, reminding me of my missed calls. Just as I was about to give in and see who they were from, I panicked. I already knew who’d been calling, and for some reason, I was afraid to confirm my suspicion.
Suddenly, the phone vibrated in my hands. Without thinking, I set it on the floor next to me with one hand still wrapped around the device. Blue light flashed between my fingers as the phone continued to buzz. As if afraid it would explode if I let it go, I carefully moved my fingers to look at the screen. Val. Again. I sealed the screen off with my fingers again and stared at the ceiling until the phone stopped buzzing.
I was a born soldier. A fighter and a survivor. A pillar of strength and power to my peers. So, why was I afraid of a phone call? The answer made my stomach knot and my mind reel. The phone buzzed again, just once this time. Val left a voicemail.
“I can’t do this,” I muttered as I let go of my phone and got to my feet.
I strode quickly toward the bathroom, only to pause halfway and return to the door to pick up my phone. This was so stupid. The voicemail notification glared at me for a long time before I finally deleted it. I tossed the phone onto the bed as I headed for the bathroom again, snapping at the inanimate object a terse, “Leave me alone.”
When I returned to the bedroom a minute later, the first thing I did was check my phone, expecting to find another missed call and voicemail notification. There was neither. Something had changed in my absence, however, and I turned to greet the unwelcome guest standing in the doorway.
Tristan was propped against the frame, holding his hands up to indicate he meant no harm. He flashed his best attempt at a friendly smile as he asked, “Can I come in?”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” I replied.
Tristan spotted the phone in my hand. His eyes narrowed, and his forced smile looked even more strained. “Calling someone?”
By “someone,” he meant Val. The jealous edge to his voice reminded me of the conversation we had earlier and how he’d reacted to the implication Val and I were together. I was feeling just spiteful enough to play that game again.
“The opposite actually,” I told him.
“Oh really?” Tristan scowled.
Very calmly, he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. The second the latch clicked, Tristan turned and charged toward me. When he lunged for my phone, I put my free hand out and caught his head to steer him to the side. Tristan tumbled to the floor at the foot of the bed. He took his time getting to his feet, a smirk spreading over his face.
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
Tristan was an idiot for baiting me when his parents weren’t around to protect him. I grabbed him by the neck and jerked him to his feet. He started to cry out for help, a cry which was lost when I slammed him into the wall.
“He doesn’t. And he won’t.”
“He will once I tell him.”
I pulled Tristan far enough away from the wall so I could smash him against it again. At the same time, I brought an arm up and crushed it against his throat. Tristan gagged, his eyes rolling back and his hands trying to shove me away.
“If you say one word to Val, if you so much as try to make contact with him, I will know and I will kill you.” Tristan tried to wheeze out a reply. I moved my arm an inch higher to close off his windpipe. “This isn’t a threat, you little prick. It’s a promise. I will hunt you down. I will break your neck. Got it?”
Tristan rasped something indistinguishable. I slammed him against the wall one more time for good measure. “Got it?”
He nodded as much as the restraint would allow. I waited a second longer before releasing him. Tristan dropped to the floor and gasped for air, trying to laugh but going into a coughing fit, instead.
“You must, heh, you must reeeally have it bad,” Tristan said between wheezes.
I yanked Tristan to his feet. He cringed and put his hands up to shield his face, expecting to be attacked again. I’d proven my point already, though, so I just shoved him toward the door. Tristan stumbled, barely catching himself against the frame. That conceited look resurfaced when he turned back to me on his way out.
“You’re worse than me, you know.” He grinned. “At least I told Val the truth in the end.”
I followed Tristan to the door and slammed it shut behind him. An unexpected shudder crept up my spine. It felt almost like guilt, but not quite. After all, I had nothing to feel guilty about. I’d completed my mission like I was supposed to, like I had countless times before.
I blamed the morphine again. My unease was a side effect of the morphine. What else could it be? Refusing to think about it anymore, I locked my door, shut off the lights, and stripped out of the suit. It was only ten o’clock, but it had been a long day, and it felt good to crawl into bed.
The mattress didn’t creak underneath me. The linens matched and didn’t reek of an old woman’s attic. There was no roommate with a snoring problem. The stillness of the room should have been a refreshing change; instead, it put me on edge.
My phone vibrated on the floor next to the bed where I’d discarded my clothes. It buzzed six times before falling silent. Val had called again. I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. Carefully, I rolled over and fished my phone from my pants just in time for it to vibrate again. Val left a voicemail.
For whatever reason, I decided there was no harm in listening to what he’d left in the messages. They might even help me get some closure. The first was left about half an hour after the Grey Men invaded the Oxford District.
“Nik, Tibbs got Michael and Finn out. No big injuries to report. With Anya and Fritz now. We’re going to shake the last couple Greys and head over to get you.”
The next came fifteen minutes l
ater.
“Damn it, Nik. I told you to stay put. Where are you?”
The next came only three minutes later.
“We found a lot of blood near the shed… Is it yours? Call me back.”
I listened to the next seven or so, wondering what possessed me to listen to them at all and now unable to stop. Sometimes Val was yelling and cursing, sometimes he was very quiet and somber. Each one made me feel worse regardless of his tone.
“This isn’t funny!”
“Canvassed the Oxford District. Someone said they saw some Grey Men loading you into a car. Benji’s tracing the license plate now… Christ, would you just call me back already?”
“So I found some cold medicine and your stupid purse in the truck. Come get them. Now.”
“Still no hits on the license plate. Jayne’s back and being a dick. You think if I called him one, he’d turn it into a gay thing? Come home.”
“You said you’d be fine! Where are you, Nik?”
“I shouldn’t have left you back there…”
“You’re really pissing me off now.”
“Please be okay, Nik…”
A creaking noise from above made me jump. Was the city coming down? I needed to warn Val and the others. I calmed when I realized it was only the sound of someone walking in the room above mine. Feeling foolish, I brought the phone back to my ear and listened to the last voicemail.
“… I wanted to talk to you about something, but… It’s stupid and… And I know if I do you’ll never come back.”
Governor Granne’s Estate—Seattle, WA
Tuesday, November 17th, 2076—11:51 p.m.
or a long time, I sat awake in bed, frozen in the same position. My breathing slowed and my body stiffened in its stillness. I should have laid back and allowed myself to fall into a sound, much needed, sleep. Instead, I was thinking in circles.
If I warned Val and the others the city was coming down, then they could evacuate. But they would certainly try to evacuate everyone else. They would also ask how I knew about the fall. I could lie and say I overheard it while being interrogated at the governor’s home, but the truth was: The governor didn’t even know about the plan. What if they tried to blame him or attack him to keep the city from being lowered? Granne would contact D.C., and then it would all come back on me, a traitor. I couldn’t warn them. But if I didn’t, then all my friends would be killed. If I warned Val and the others…