Mei finished wrapping her leg. The old woman had taken a great risk in helping Zira, presumably for no other reason than because Tripp had asked her to. Her stomach squirmed a little thinking about how Mei had been dragged into this. She clearly disapproved of Zira’s activities and, like Tripp and the others, it would have been easier for her to just let Zira die. Her selflessness was more than Zira deserved.
“Thank you,” she blurted as Mei walked to the door. The old woman paused, and Zira searched for the words to express her gratitude. “I know you think I’m just a killer, and maybe I am. And I know I made things hard for you—” She turned to Tripp. “For all of you. But you helped me anyway. Thank you.”
“I’m a doctor,” Mei said. “A killer, a child, a soldier, a priest—it doesn’t matter. All life is precious. I did what I had to do.”
She left, and Tripp put a hand on Zira’s shoulder, causing her to flinch. “See, kid? You’re not so bad. Even Mei doesn’t think so.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tripp and the other radicals ended up having to stay at Mei’s for over two weeks. The small basement was crowded between the six of them, but presumably, they made do. Zira had no way of confirming this since she was confined to her room aside from occasional trips to the bathroom across the hall. Liza, still fearing for her children’s safety, had insisted on this. Since Zira could do little more than hobble around on a set of old, wooden crutches, she didn’t protest the arrangement.
Alma and Tripp took turns guarding her, but she suspected this was for her own protection as much as it was to prevent her from escaping or finding some way to contact the Project. She didn’t see much of Nate and Liza, but when she did, they both still looked like they wanted to kill her. Previously, she might have laughed at the idea. In her present condition, it was a challenge just to put on her own pants. If either of them cornered her in the room alone, she wouldn’t have a chance of defending herself. She managed to talk Tripp into letting her keep the pocketknife Jared had given her and took to sleeping with it under her pillow at night. A poor defense, but still better than nothing.
Mei brought news from the outside world as the days went by. A small search party came to explore the area where the radicals had been hiding, but they left empty-handed after a few days. The Project had to have organized the search; no one else had any reason to suspect there might be survivors trapped in the rubble from the explosion. They were looking for Zira. Her heart lifted a little when she first heard, then sank again. They’d given up so soon. No one was coming to rescue her. The longer she went without contacting them, the more likely it was that they’d simply pronounce her dead and that would be the end of it. She wondered what Jared and Aubreigh must think of her disappearance; Aubreigh would be especially worried. Zira wished there was some way she could let them know she was safe, but there were no means of communication in her room, and Mei was diligent about removing her own CyberLink anytime she interacted with Zira.
She did physical therapy with Mei every day. The old woman seemed pleased by the way the residual limb was healing and assured her that she was making good progress. Zira might have been more encouraged by this if not for the phantom pains that started just a few days into her stay at Mei’s house. While excruciating at times, the sensation frustrated her more than it hurt. She could look down and see that her leg was missing, but no matter how much she tried to tell her mind that, the pain persisted in the empty space where the limb should have been.
Early one morning after a series of particularly bad aches woke her up, Tripp pulled his chair up close to her bed. “Let’s talk.”
Zira gritted her teeth and shot him a glare. “Not a great time right now.”
“It’ll take your mind off things. Come on. You’ve been tossing and turning all night.”
Zira began to massage the leg like Mei had shown her. “Fine. Talk.”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but it might be a touchy subject.”
“Go ahead,” she said. Anything to distract herself from the pain.
“What went wrong when you came to kill us all that night at the cabin? You people don’t make mistakes like that—not that big.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Sorry. But it was a pretty big mistake.”
“It was,” Zira admitted. “But it wasn’t completely my fault. There were only supposed to be three of you.”
“Nate, Liza, and Alma, huh?”
Zira nodded. “I watched the cabin for days, but I only saw those three. They were the only ones in my file. I didn’t know about you or the kids.”
“That was our intention. It was safer to stay inside, so obviously we didn’t want the kids going out, just in case. And I’ve had a target on my back for over a decade. If any of Ryku’s informants had seen me, it would have been like flashing a neon sign telling every assassin in the compound to come after us. Tough break for you, though.”
She forced out a short laugh as another surge of pain burned through her non-existent lower leg. “Yeah, that’s a bit of an understatement.”
He set the gun down, safely out of her reach, and gently moved her hands aside. Too miserable to argue, she let him take over massaging the stump and leaned back on her pillows. “Are you going to go back as soon as we leave?” he asked after a few minutes. “You can, you know. We asked Mei to keep you here for a few days, just to give us some time to get away. But let’s be honest—she’s not as spry as she used to be, and you’ve gotten pretty quick on those crutches. You could just…well, you know.”
Zira gave him a sidelong glance. “Kill her and run off? Do you honestly think I’d do that?”
“I hope not, but I can see how this all looks from your perspective. We shot you, cut off your leg, and then locked you in a basement. You’re probably excited to get home and start plotting your revenge.” He winked at her and grinned, but she’d learned early on that he often dealt with serious matters by making jokes and maintaining an unflinching sense of optimism.
Zira shook her head. “I’m not really looking forward to going home, actually.”
“Why not?”
“Because I failed my assignment.” She patted her hand against her thigh. “Because of this. I can’t do any of the things I need to. What good am I to my unit now?”
“You heard Mei,” said Tripp. “You’ll get better.”
“Eventually. But Ryku is—well, you probably know how he is. I’m not sure he’ll give me a chance to prove I’m still worth keeping around.”
“You’re getting a prosthetic leg. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
“It’s not like I can learn to walk again overnight, and that’s just a start. I need to run, jump, climb, fight, and about a hundred other things.”
“You don’t have to do it overnight,” said Tripp. “Just stay here. Stay as long as you want to. You can go back to the Project when you’re ready, after you’ve recovered your skills.”
“I can’t wait that long. What would I tell Ryku when I do go back?”
“The truth. You were held captive by a bunch of mean, nasty rebels who shot you and then cut off your leg. They let you go, but you didn’t want to go back to the compound in that state, so you waited until you were well enough to perform at the same level you could before.”
“That’s a good story,” Zira said, rolling her eyes. It sounded easy enough, but would Ryku accept that explanation? She gnawed on her bottom lip. “What about Mei?”
“Mei said you could stay as long as you want, remember? Between you and me, I think she gets a little bored out here all by herself. You might be doing her a favor.”
“You just want me to stay here longer so you have more time to run away and hide before I tell Ryku you were here.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” said Tripp. “But just because it benefits both of us doesn’t mean it’s not a good idea.”
Zira sighed and tilted her head back. She dreaded facing
Ryku after this whole mess, but she also missed home. She missed Aubreigh and Jared, and staying here until she’d regained her former strength meant it could be several months before she saw them again. It seemed cruel to continue allowing them to think she was dead—or worse. Still, if the extra time let her keep her position as an E-2 operative, it might be worth it. “I’ll think about it,” she said to Tripp.
He sat back in his chair and retrieved the gun from the dresser. “How’s the leg?”
“Better,” said Zira. A slight tingle still remained, but the pain had subsided significantly. “Thanks.”
“Good. Try to get some sleep before Mei comes in to drag you out of bed for therapy.”
* * *
Mei did come in to wake Zira just a few hours later, and Tripp left the room to get some sleep. She carried a long cardboard box under one arm. “Is that my new leg?” Zira asked.
Mei handed her the box, and Zira tore it open with the enthusiasm of a young child opening a gift. The prosthetic leg might have been uniformly white at one time. Now it was a dirty gray, battered and scuffed. Still, it was a leg. Zira ran a finger over the hard, plastic material and smiled. She was going to walk again.
She lifted it out of the box. It seemed to be roughly the same length as the missing portion of her leg would have been. Mei knelt and showed her how to attach it to the implant coming out of her stump. “Make sure it’s secure,” she said. “As long as it’s fitted properly, you can wear it as long as you want. It’s waterproof and very durable, but you’ll want to be sure you wash it and check for any cracks on a regular basis.”
Zira bent her knee back and forth, testing the weight of the prosthesis. Now that it was attached to her leg, it felt heavy, but she suspected that was because she’d grown so accustomed to not having any weight below that knee. She stood with Mei’s help and put a hand on the wall for support.
“Just take it slow,” Mei said. “You don’t want to hurt yourself and interfere with your recovery.”
Zira gently shifted part of her weight to the new leg. She took her hand away from the wall and Mei backed away a couple of steps. For the first time in almost three weeks, she was standing on her own. She would have jumped into the air for joy if she could have. “Thank you,” she said.
Mei put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re quite welcome, Zira.”
They worked together for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Tripp came in later. He leaned back against the wall and watched Zira take a few clumsy steps across the floor. She had to use one of her crutches to stabilize herself, but she was walking. “Not too bad, huh?” she said to him.
“You’re doing great. It’s probably a good thing we’re leaving tonight. A few more days and you wouldn’t have any trouble finishing that assignment of yours.”
Zira’s concentration broke and the prosthesis slipped out from under her. She managed to catch herself on her hands to lessen the fall, but it still hurt. She glared at Tripp as he hurried to her side. There had been no malice in his voice when he’d made the comment, but it still dug at her. It shouldn’t have. It was true, after all, even if he’d meant it as a joke. Of course he still saw her as a killer.
“Help me get her up,” said Mei.
Zira held out a hand. “No. I can do it myself.” With a little careful maneuvering, she did, then went to the bed and sat down.
“I think that’s enough for today,” said Mei. “I’m going to go make dinner.”
Zira stretched her legs and looked at Tripp. “You’re leaving tonight?”
“Yeah. Which means you’ll be free to go soon, too.”
Zira shook her head. She’d thought about their previous conversation throughout the day, and after testing the new leg and seeing exactly how much work she had ahead of her, she’d decided it might be best to wait a couple of months before returning to the compound. Even something as simple as going up and down stairs seemed an impossible task right now. She couldn’t face Ryku like that; he’d already given her so many chances. If she went back now, broken and useless after failing her assignment, she doubted he would give her another one. “Not yet,” she said.
Tripp nodded and took his usual position in the chair at the center of the room. The smell of Mei’s cooking upstairs began to waft through the entire house. Zira watched as Alma, Nate, and Liza carried plates of food through the hall. There was a lot of it—probably some kind of going away feast for the radicals. That made Zira think of something. “How has Mei been able to feed all of you for so long?” she asked Tripp. Food was allocated through a strict rationing system based on whether or not a person had completed their required work duties. Unit C distributed staples like grain, potatoes, and some meats directly through their distribution centers, and citizens received additional ration coupons which could be redeemed for other items in local stores. Zira couldn’t imagine how Mei might have been able to get enough food to feed six extra people.
“We brought her everything we had at the cabin before we blew it up,” said Tripp. “It was enough to get us through the winter. Once we leave, she’ll be better off than anyone else in Grayridge—unheard of for a retired person with no family, especially considering how terrible the food shortage has been here.”
“If there’s shortage here, it’s the same everywhere else. We’ll all have to tighten our belts and make the best of it.”
Tripp stretched his legs out in front of him and grinned. “That was really good. I almost believed you. You should think about transferring to E-1’s propaganda department.”
Zira glared at him.
“You ever go hungry back at the compound?” he asked.
The food was meager and tasteless sometimes, but Zira couldn’t honestly say she knew what it was like to be hungry for more than a few hours. “No.”
“Exactly.”
“Why is there a food shortage here, then?”
“It’s not just here; it’s this entire region. This is an agricultural valley—one of the few you’ll find this far north. The growing season this past year was a particularly bad one, so most of the workers weren’t able to fill their quotas. Unit C cut their rations. Some of them will try to hunt and fish to make up the difference, but others won’t risk it.”
“Hunting is illegal,” said Zira. “Citizens aren’t allowed to have weapons.”
Tripp shrugged. “Break the law, or your family starves. They do what they have to do to survive.”
“Unit C wouldn’t have cut their rations for no reason. They must have been doing something wrong. Something that caused their crops to fail.”
“You can’t control the weather, kid.” He leveled his gaze at her, and any spark of humor vanished from his face. “Remember what I said about opening your eyes to the real world. This is it.”
Alma knocked on the door and pushed it open wider. “Food’s ready,” she said to Tripp. “I’ll watch her if you want to grab a bite.”
“Sure,” Tripp said. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned a few minutes later carrying two plates stacked high with steamed carrots, beans, caribou meat, and bread. “You could have stayed out there and eaten with the others,” Alma said as he set one plate in front of Zira.
“I’m fine right here.” He settled into his chair and took a bite of carrots.
Alma looked between them, muttered something under her breath in Spanish, and left. “She’s right,” Zira said. “You can go.”
“And leave you in here all by yourself?”
“You’re really still worried that I’m going to kill all of you?”
Tripp shrugged. “I’m on a winning streak for not being killed by you people. I’d hate to ruin it now. Besides, I’m going to be cooped up somewhere with those guys for weeks after this. We don’t need any more quality time together.”
When they’d finished eating, Tripp left to help the others clear up and gather the things they needed for their journey. Zira listened to them walk back and forth through the h
all and up and down the stairs. Then there was silence. Had they all left already?
A few minutes later, Tripp and Mei knocked on her door. “You’re still here,” Zira said as they entered.
“Don’t look so disappointed. You didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?”
“Goodbye,” Zira said.
He crossed over to her bed and extended a hand. She shook it. “I’m sorry we had to keep you here. And for your leg.”
“I’m sorry I tried to kill you.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said it, but she meant it. Maybe not for the others, but for Tripp, she meant it. In another time, another place, they might have been friends.
“The compound is a dangerous place. Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah. You too.”
He walked to the door, stopping to hug Mei on the way out. She patted the side of his arm and smiled at him, and then he was gone. Mei stayed behind. She held Zira’s gun in one thin, wrinkled hand. When she noticed Zira staring at it, she said, “He told me to stay here and watch you for a few hours to give them time to get away.”
Zira rolled over to face the wall and closed her eyes. Of course he did. He was careful, after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jared stared at the calendar on his wall, counting back the days again. It had been over three weeks since Zira had left on her assignment. She should have been back by now.
He’d watched the news every day and knew as much about what had happened near Grayridge as was being released to the media. It wasn’t much. A series of explosions at an abandoned pre-war resort just outside the small town had destroyed at least three cabins, the remains of which were later buried under heavy snowfall. Local search and rescue teams had gone to check for survivors based on an anonymous tip from Chairman Ryku, but they’d found nothing. In order to avoid rousing unnecessary suspicion with the locals, the search was called off after two days.
Secrets of PEACE Page 12