According to the data pulled from Zira’s CyberLink before it went offline, she’d been at the resort when the explosion happened. If that were the case, however, Jared was sure that the search dogs would have at least found a body—if not Zira’s, then one of the radicals’ she was supposed to have assassinated. The CyberLink reports had to be a mistake somehow. Zira had gotten out. She would find a way to make contact or come back home. It was only a matter of time. At least, that was what Jared had repeatedly told himself over this past week.
With each passing day, he believed it less, and darker possibilities began to fill his mind. The time for waiting was over; somebody needed to do something. He ran to the chairman’s office, burst through the door, and stood in front of Ryku’s desk with clenched fists. Ryku didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see him. If anything, he simply looked tired as he pushed his paperwork aside and waited for Jared to speak. “Sir,” Jared began, “I’d like to go to the North Pacific Region to look for Zira.”
Ryku shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that.”
“She should have been back by now. Have you at least heard from the informant who was supposed to get her back to the airport?”
“He hasn’t seen or heard anything from her since he dropped her off. She missed both of the days he was scheduled to pick her up.”
Something pinched in Jared’s chest. “What if she’s in trouble?”
“She’ll have to get out of it herself.”
“They never found any of her targets. What if they have her somewhere?” It was what he feared most and seemed the most likely possibility given the circumstances. The thought of her going through anything like his own experiences as a captive of the Red Flag Brotherhood sent prickles of ice down his back.
Ryku placed both hands on his desk and stood, leveling his gaze at Jared. “You know the protocol. She’s already been gone three weeks without contact. Honestly, with the way things stand right now, I think we need to consider the possibility that Zira might be dead.”
Jared lifted his jaw. There was no expression on Ryku’s face—no remorse, no hurt, no sign of sadness for the possible loss of one of his own people. Jared hated him for it. “You don’t know that. You can’t make that call.”
“Somebody has to. That’s part of being the chairman of this unit. You may not understand now, but you will.”
“That’s it? You’re responsible for her.”
Ryku clasped his hands in front of him and sighed. “The people up north tend to be sympathetic towards these radical groups, and the situation there has been escalating due to the recent food shortage. Unit P just deployed an entire company to deal with the unrest. Zira’s life is not any more or less valuable than my other operatives’, and I can’t afford to send someone digging around up there. Not now.”
“Why not? You sent people to look for me in the RA. You came for me yourself.”
“That was different. We knew you were alive. More importantly, we knew where to find you.”
“We know where Zira is.”
“We know where she was. We have no idea what happened after our informant left her at the lodge.”
“You can’t just abandon her!”
“When did it become your place to question my authority? You’re letting your emotions affect your judgment. I don’t think Zira would want you or anyone else risking their lives to bring her back. In fact, I’m sure she’d resent the fact that we even dared to think she couldn’t take care of herself. Tensions are too high right now. If we send people over there in the middle of everything else that’s happening, it will only draw negative attention and suspicion.”
“If tensions are so high, then you never should have sent her over there in the first place.”
Ryku’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know everything, Jared. The information I choose to share with you or anyone else under my command is a very small piece of a much larger picture. I did what I thought was right, and I won’t beg your forgiveness for that. If Zira is alive, she’ll be back as soon as she can. If not, we’ll have a funeral next week.”
“Without a body?”
“It’s the best we can do under the circumstances. Now if that’s all you wanted to talk about, I suggest you go and find something productive to do. This is all very unbecoming of the man who’s supposed to be the most elite in this unit.”
Jared wanted to punch the chairman in the face, but he reigned in the better part of his temper and lashed out with his words instead. Colorful insults flew out of his mouth like a swarm of angry bees, but Ryku remained calm and still. This infuriated Jared even more, but since he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, he turned around to leave.
“Don’t get any ideas about going after Zira yourself,” said Ryku. “For your own good, I’m ordering you to remain here. If you leave this compound without my explicit consent, I’ll have you arrested for treason.”
Jared slammed the door as hard as he could.
* * *
The morning of Zira’s funeral was bright and warm. The small gathering at the cemetery consisted almost entirely of people wearing black armbands. Aubreigh’s red one stood out like a flare, and once Jared spotted it, he went to stand beside her.
He felt like he was walking though some kind of nightmare, wishing he could wake up to find Zira sleeping right beside him. Every hour that had passed over the last week had been torturous, and he’d spent more time than he cared to think about just pacing. Pacing the floor in his room, pacing the sidewalks around the apartments, pacing the concrete by the front gate, always hoping that he’d look up one minute and she’d be there, or that he’d glance at his CL and see an incoming call from her. After all that pacing, he’d finally had to face reality. Zira wasn’t coming back, and the only reason there could be for that was that she had been captured or killed by the radicals she’d been sent to eliminate. If she wasn’t dead already, she probably would be soon, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Aubreigh wiped away tears with the edge of her sleeve. Jared felt too hollow to say anything, like the place where his voice should have been had been swallowed up by some unknown void. Instead, he placed a hand on Aubreigh’s shoulder, hoping to provide a little comfort. To the rest of these people, Zira had been just another face in the crowd. Only Aubreigh shared Jared’s pain now, because she had loved Zira, too. Perhaps she even felt it more acutely; the two of them had been like sisters.
Ryku said a few words about Zira’s dedication to the Project and her determination to be the best she could be in all aspects of her life. He seemed far too accustomed to these kinds of speeches. Jared wondered if he even still remembered exactly how many people had gone to their deaths under his authority.
A marker had already been placed, a simple gray stone with Zira’s name and unit below the seal of the Project. There was no casket to lower into the ground, a clear indication that there was no body. That trivial detail was the one that tormented Jared most. Even without it, he knew she was gone.
One by one, the few who had come to pay their respects drifted away. Chairman Ryku approached them, nodding to Aubreigh and putting a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Jared bristled at the touch.
In a rare display of emotion, Ryku’s features softened. For the first time, he looked genuinely upset about Zira’s disappearance. “You know I care about everyone in this unit,” he said. “I’ve watched most of you grow up. I would never send any of you into a situation I didn’t think you could handle.”
Jared only glared back at him. He recognized the sincerity in Ryku’s voice, but he was still angry. It was easier to be mad at the man standing in front of him now than at whatever unknown power or fate had allowed this to happen to Zira. Ryku frowned and walked on.
Soon, only Jared and Aubreigh were left standing in front of the headstone. Aubreigh asked the question Jared had dreaded since he saw her. “Do you know how she died?”
; “Just pieces of it,” he said.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” If anyone had a right to know what had happened to Zira, it was Aubreigh, but telling her would require him to reveal classified information about Zira’s mission. Ryku had made it clear that no one outside their unit could know where she had been.
“She was doing something dangerous, wasn’t she? Taking care of some problem or threat?” She spat the last words out with bitter sarcasm. Whatever problem or threat Zira might have been dealing with, Aubreigh clearly didn’t think it was worth her life.
“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“Why not?” Aubreigh asked, fighting to keep her voice under control. “My best friend is dead, and I want to know why. She was eighteen years old. What kind of organization is this that sends someone so young out there just to get killed? It isn’t right.”
Jared swallowed hard and shifted his gaze to a tree behind Aubreigh. He couldn’t look at her, and he couldn’t look at the headstone with Zira’s name on it. “Leave it alone, Aubreigh.”
“No. I want answers.”
“You wouldn’t like them,” he said, and walked away before she could say anything else.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zira practiced walking with the prosthesis as much as she was able to over the next few weeks. She soon abandoned the crutches altogether, and when Mei put them back in the closet, she smiled triumphantly. The road ahead was still a long one, but she was making progress. Best of all, the phantom pains subsided with the aid of an electric pressure sensor where the prosthesis attached to the implant, and Zira’s mood had improved as a result.
In her impatience to do the things she used to, she experienced a few ugly falls. “This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” she admitted to Mei one evening after a particularly frustrating day.
“You’ll get better,” Mei said. “It just takes time.”
Despite her progress, Zira didn’t feel like she had much time. She wasn’t a prisoner anymore, and she grew more anxious to return to the compound with each passing day. She forced herself to wait a while longer. Walking unassisted was a great accomplishment after all she’d been through, but Ryku might not appreciate it enough to let her continue working as an E-2 operative. Though she was eager to get back to her old life and see Aubreigh and Jared again, she knew she needed to get stronger.
Now that she was free to leave the room, Zira sometimes accompanied Mei into town. The fact that it was cold enough to make bulky coats and gloves a necessity served her well as it easily hid the fact that she wasn’t wearing a CL, which might have raised unwanted curiosity otherwise. Since Mei liked to save her car for emergencies, they always walked. She received ration coupons for a fuel allowance each month, but it wasn’t much, and she never knew when she might need it. Her house was only two miles from the outer limits of Grayridge, though it felt like much farther than that in the biting winter cold. The sun rose late and set early this time of year, so if they needed to go to town—and Mei insisted on going at least a few times a week—they only had a few good hours of daylight to make it there and back.
During these excursions, Zira saw signs of the food shortage Tripp had told her about. The most obvious was what was coming out of the distribution center in the middle of town—or rather, what was not coming out. Each week when Mei went in to pick up her rations, she returned with barely enough food to feed one person for three or four days. Her ration coupons should have been able to make up the difference, but even the stores couldn’t keep up with the shortage. The prices of what little they had in stock had risen to an unaffordable amount. Where Mei once might have been able to exchange a single ration coupon for a sack of apples, she now wouldn’t have been able to buy even one. She managed to make the food stretch for both herself and Zira, but only because they were able to supplement it with what radicals had left.
Whenever they walked to Grayridge, they each took some frozen caribou meat, fish, or canned vegetables to share with other families in the area. Zira was reluctant at first. There didn’t seem to be anything inherently wrong about sharing with friends and neighbors, but Mei took great care to hide the food in a wheelbarrow under a layer of firewood when they transported it. It might not be explicitly illegal, but it did seem to undermine the Project, and that was a dangerous enough crime in itself. After all, the Project promised to take care of people and make sure everyone got their fair share. The fact that Mei had to distribute food to almost half the population of Grayridge meant the Project was failing that promise, and Zira was hesitant to accept that. Once she saw how little Mei was receiving from the distribution center, however, she became more willing to help. They couldn’t get to everyone, and Mei admitted to not trusting some people enough to share with for fear they would turn her in to the Project. Still, they seemed to be making a difference. Gaunt-faced parents wept with joy whenever Mei and Zira showed up at their door, and the light that brightened the children’s eyes warmed something in Zira’s core like she’d never felt before.
One morning about five weeks after Zira had first come to Mei’s house, someone knocked on the door. Mei stood up from the table where they’d been eating breakfast. “Go downstairs,” she said. “Don’t come up until I tell you it’s okay.”
Zira was about to ask what was going on, but Mei’s frown told her this was not the time for questions. As she headed to the basement, Mei hurried to clear her plate away before answering the door. Zira pressed herself against the wall at the bottom of the stairs to listen.
“Good morning, Mei.” Zira didn’t recognize the man’s voice. “You have something for me, I believe?”
“Of course. Here.”
There was a long pause. “That’s it?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hartman. I don’t have access to—”
“That’s your problem, not mine. I don’t think I need to remind you of what will happen if you fail to honor our agreement.”
“Please. That’s all I have. That’s all I can get. Haven’t we been doing this long enough?”
“Long enough?” The threatening tone in his voice made Zira tense. “You don’t get to say when it’s been long enough. You have two weeks to get me the rest of it, and you’d better not try another stunt like this the next time I show up.”
The door opened then shut again. Zira waited a few minutes for Mei to tell her it was all right to go back upstairs, but the old woman seemed to have forgotten about her. She went up anyway. Mei sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, frowning into a cup of tea. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t even notice Zira until she was right beside her. “Oh—Zira! You startled me.”
Zira sat down. “Who was that?”
Mei pursed her lips and dried her face with one sleeve. “His name is Hartman. He’s the administrator at the labor camp where my son is.”
There were pictures of Mei’s family on the walls throughout the house. She had a husband and a son, but she never talked about them, and Zira never felt comfortable asking. Family was a somewhat foreign concept to her. She had the Project, and she had Aubreigh, but she knew that wasn’t quite the same thing.
“He was asking you for something.” It was more than just curiosity that fueled her desire to know about Mei’s business with Hartman. She owed Mei her life, and now the old woman was in some kind of trouble. If there was any way that Zira could help her, she would.
Mei shook her head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s not your problem.” She reached out and put her knobby fingers over Zira’s. “But it’s nice to have someone to talk to. It’s been a long time since I had anyone who would listen.”
Zira squeezed Mei’s hand and gave her a small, encouraging smile. Mei sighed. “Before the war, my husband’s family owned some land in a town not far from here. They’d had it for generations, and he inherited all of it when his parents died. After the war, the Project came to take it away. It was their land now, and they wanted
to assign workers to farm it like they were doing everywhere else. They told us we would have to relocate, but my husband didn’t want to leave. He argued with them, so they shot him, just like that.”
“That’s terrible,” Zira said.
Tears slipped from Mei’s eyes and ran into the wrinkled creases of her skin. She continued in a shaky voice. “They said he was armed, that he’d pulled a weapon on them and that’s why they shot him. It was a lie. He wasn’t armed. They were just talking. My son, Ethan, tried to tell the truth. I told him to let it go, but he wouldn’t listen. He got one of the local papers to publish his side of the story. E-1s arrested everyone involved and sent them to a labor camp. They would have arrested me too, but the hospital here needed another doctor, so I was transferred instead.”
“And Hartman is in charge of that labor camp,” said Zira.
Mei nodded. “He came to me a few years after they arrested Ethan and asked me to get him some drugs. Painkillers, from the hospital. He threatened Ethan. I refused at first and tried to go to the police, but I wasn’t able to speak with an officer right away. The next day, Hartman sent me some holograms from the labor camp. They’d beaten Ethan half to death. I got him the drugs he was asking for. I thought it would just be that one time, but he comes back every three or four months asking for more.”
As disgusted as she was by Hartman’s greed, Zira couldn’t understand why Mei had allowed herself to be bullied for so long. “Why didn’t you try to contact the police again? Or someone in the Project?”
“I would if I knew it wouldn’t put my son in danger. Hartman will have him killed if I don’t do what he says. Why take the risk? It isn’t worth gambling on Ethan’s life.”
Anger flared up inside Zira to think that anyone would use their power to exploit and threaten someone like Mei. At her age, her son should have been around to help her and take care of her. Because of Hartman, she had to constantly worry about Ethan’s safety instead. “What are you going to do?”
Secrets of PEACE Page 13