Allie's War Season Two

by JC Andrijeski

  “To honor the trade,” he said.

  I bit my lip harder, fighting my impatience. “Trade for what, Revik?”

  “For Feigran,” he said.

  I stared at him. Replaying his words in my head, I felt my confusion return.

  “Why?” I said. “Why would you even want him?”

  “Allie.” His eyes met mine, one-way mirrors. “I asked if we could speak about this later. Please allow me that...please.”

  I glanced around at the others, saw that they were all looking studiously out the windows, as if they couldn’t hear us. Returning my eyes to Revik’s, I found him staring at me again, looking at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before. His eyes looked lost...like he didn’t know what to say to me, or even what to do with me now that I was there.

  Within that confusion, I saw so much distrust in his eyes it made me flinch. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like I was a stranger to him.

  I retreated from that look.

  A second later, he took my hand, gripping my fingers in his.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Allie,” he said.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, looking out the window.

  I fought to control myself, realizing again that we weren’t alone, that he had already asked me to wait...twice...and not try to force him to talk around the others.

  I focused on buildings passing by the windows instead. My gaze ran over storefronts and colored umbrellas decorating cafes that sat halfway on the street. Old buildings with tile roofs and ornate wooden gables stood next to glass skyscrapers and high end coffee bars and outdoor eateries. I glimpsed the odd, square-shaped towers made of glass in the distance, the ones I’d dreamed about for years before I’d ever even thought about coming to Asia. I watched people’s faces and took in the different styles of clothing, caught flickers of interactions that we passed before they could resolve. Like in America, most of them wore headsets. Despite the wash of Asian faces, I felt a rush of homesickness like nothing I’d felt in months.

  I knew without asking that we were heading to the airport.

  He squeezed my hand tighter.

  His light exuded a sharp pulse of emotion that forced my eyes up. When I met his gaze, he studied mine with equal care. I saw the distrust there again, flavored with a denser pool of emotion that was nearly on the surface. He looked tired, I realized...nearly spent, and the confusion around his light hadn’t dissipated. But it was more than that.

  I was still trying to understand what I was seeing when he leaned down.

  He kissed me on the mouth, hard. I opened to him before I knew I intended to; he slid an arm around my waist as I leaned up to kiss him back.

  It struck me that our first real kiss had happened in a limousine.

  His hands tightened until they hurt. He made a sound against my mouth, pulling me deeper into his lap.

  He released me a moment later, when I was already half out of my body, my arm around his neck, my fingers in his hair. A few seconds passed of me just sitting in his lap, watching him avoid my eyes, before I remembered where we were. I turned at the thought, glancing around at the others in the car before I let him go, sliding off his legs.

  I noticed then, that he was hard, that the erection was relatively visible through his jeans, but he didn’t attempt to cover it up. His gaze drifted out the window, to where mine had been. I watched him prop his elbow on the edge where the door met the glass, leaning his jaw against his hand as he watched the scenery shift by through the tinted window.

  He didn’t look at me again.

  In fact, no one in the car spoke at all. The limo sped out onto the slick tarmac of a runway some forty minutes later, pulling up next to a non-commercial jet plane with no logos or markings on its wings or tail, not even those of the make and model of the craft itself. I stared up at the darkened oval door to its interior, and felt another glimmer of trepidation, although I couldn’t have said what caused it exactly...maybe it was just everything, or the sinking feeling that I knew what was wrong with him already.

  I found myself watching his face again, studying his expression, but he didn’t return my gaze. He took my hand when the limo door opened, getting out before me and then helping me through the door...still without meeting my eyes.

  “Revik,” I said softly. “Please, baby...what is it?”

  His fingers tightened, but he didn’t answer.

  The others trailed behind us as he led me to the rolling staircase someone brought up to lean against the side of the plane. Through all of it, he still wouldn’t look at me.

  It didn’t occur to me until later that he didn’t just feel angry, or even sad. He felt broken somehow...in a way I couldn’t really let myself feel.

  Not for a long, long time after.

  20

  FORGIVENESS

  “SO THIS IS the main hangar, Allie...”

  Garensche waved an arm out over the catwalk as the underground structure emerged into our view. The size of it frankly blew my mind...especially given how deep we felt buried within the mountain. Rows of fighters ran down the length of the cavernous space, their lines visible for the half of the hangar I could see from where we stood, suspended several stories above the floor. I remembered a space like this in the far west of China, where Salinse’s people brought everyone they could save after the bombing of Seertown.

  I’d been there only briefly following the rescue in D.C.; Wreg brought me himself, along with Jon and Chan. Ironically, it was there that we’d been reunited with Balidor and the remnants of the Adhipan. After Revik disappeared, we all seemed to be on the same side...especially given everything that happened during the siege on D.C.

  At the time, that base in the mountains seemed big to me, too; but now, looking down at a hangar easily five times its size, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much infrastructure Salinse and his people had scattered across Asia.

  Or, I assumed we were in Asia. No one had exactly given me coordinates on a map, and they’d kept me in a windowless van for the last leg of the trip there.

  The people moving down below brought the reality home, if nothing else. They looked small. Not quite like ants, but maybe the size of cockroaches.

  “We have another fleet of planes in western China,” Garensche added, as if seeing the bewilderment in my eyes. “But only about half of them have been retrofitted with organics. The boss is working on getting us some larger transport planes...money’s not the issue so much as needing to work through proxies. Can’t buy the armored version if you’re a seer, so he’s got a contact in Britain who might help us broker the deal...”

  I stared down, swallowing a little at the sword and sun insignia I saw painted on each wing of the two seaters. I let my eyes run over crates that stood taller than me, knowing they were likely filled with small arms, ammunition, grenades...bomb parts...gods knew what else.

  Garensche seemed to feel my reaction to that, too. He squeezed my shoulder in his hand, sending me a pulse of warmth through his fingers.

  “Hey,” he said. “Just taking precautions. You haven’t seen the boss use any of this...have you?”

  “The boss,” I muttered. “No,” I said. “No planes. All I’ve seen him do is bomb hotels...and state buildings. Indiscriminately gun down humans...”

  Garensche shrugged with one hand. His expression grew inscrutable.

  “He had lists even then, you know,” the mountainous seer said. He looked at me, his hazel eyes holding a faint steel I’d never seen, not in him anyway. “Nothing indiscriminate about it, ilya. He was pretty specific. We let a lot of worms walk out without a scratch that night...”

  “Did you?” I said.

  “We did. He was pretty specific, like I said.”

  “Was he?” I said, gripping the railing tighter. “And who made the lists? What crimes did they have to commit?”

  “Trading see
rs. Children and females, mostly,” Garensche said, blunt. “A few on the payroll of the traders...or in direct business with them. Like those in the feeds who put the faces of seers up, focusing on the ones who threaten their businesses. Governments on the payroll...” His eyes hardened. “He didn’t kill everyone that night, Allie. Or weren’t you paying attention?”

  “He killed enough.”

  Garensche clicked softly. “You’re pretty quick to put it all on the boss,” he said. “And how many do they kill? Do you ask yourself that?”

  I turned, still gripping the guardrail.

  “How much is too much, Garensche?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I might ask you the same question.”

  I felt my jaw clench so hard it hurt my face. I didn’t answer.

  Garensche sighed a moment later. Gripping my shoulder again in one of his massive hands, he shook me gently.

  “Will you two kids make up, damn it?” he said. “It’s painful, watching the both of you...like being forced to witness torture.”

  “Torture,” I said, looking down at the hangar. “Funny you would say that.”

  “What happened with the two of you, anyway?” he said, his voice showing more emotion. “He won’t tell us a damned thing...”

  “Where is he now, Garensche?” I said, looking up at him. Seeing him frown, I averted my eyes. “...speaking of torture.”

  “You know where he is. He’s talking to Feigran.”

  “Talking to him,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “And what does that entail, exactly?”

  “You want to see?”

  I looked up at him, not hiding my surprise.

  “Yes,” I said, straightening. “Yes, I would.”

  He waved a thick hand, indicating for me to follow him.

  I’d been at the compound for over a week.

  I hadn’t seen Revik alone more than a handful of minutes since I’d arrived. He’d given me an enormous room filled with organics, access to every legal and black market feed in existence, more clothes than I could wear in a year...a private bathroom, a fully stocked electronic library and office, even a personal assistant to see to any need or whim I might have.

  He also gave me a king-sized bed that he hadn’t once visited.

  If this was his idea of a six-month trial period as his wife, I had to wonder about his motives.

  And yet, he showed up at my door every morning and provided me with as many options as I wanted for the day...politely, of course. He offered me guides, plane tours of the surrounding area, any kind of pampering I wanted, access to shooting ranges, to his sparring classes, any records I wanted to see...access to any room or database in the compound. There were few exceptions.

  In fact, I’d only been told ‘no’ once since I’d gotten there. I’d asked about a guarded area of the compound that we’d passed on one of my tours, and was told it belonged to Salinse, who apparently preferred his privacy. Even then, I’d gotten what I’d call a ‘soft’ no. Revik offered to arrange for a formal introduction if I wanted to meet the aged seer. He only requested that I not simply “show up.” If I did, I could expect not to be seen.

  Which, in all fairness, made perfect sense.

  The ban on ops seemed to be in effect too, from what Garensche told me.

  It was as if the letter had been the last communication between us, with one exception. He didn’t come anywhere near me when we weren’t surrounded by other people. He ate with us in the restaurant-like mess hall that boasted a stunning view of the valley, truly excellent food and cloth-covered rounds. He walked with me and others on a few of the tours I’d gotten around the base, including the command center, residency halls, rec areas, swimming pool, gym.

  We’d played chess one night, in one of the common rooms, again surrounded by other seers.

  He’d even taken me flying with him.

  But we still hadn’t talked about anything substantive, and he hadn’t touched me beyond a few brushes to my arms and hands, usually to help me in and out of doors, to pull out a chair, take a coat, offer me something. Once, he’d put his arm around me to show me a throwing move in mulei. He wouldn’t spar with me, though.

  Like today, he’d also disappeared a number of times to “talk” to Feigran.

  He’d been fairly open about where he was going when I asked, but also made it pretty clear he hadn’t wanted me along.

  He mentioned once that he thought he might be making progress.

  When I asked him with what, his answers grew vague once more.

  Garensche led me back to the stairs, taking me down to the ground floor of the hangar, then the floor below that. We popped out in a stone corridor with rough walls and a cement floor.

  I followed him past a number of organic doors with view holes into what had to be cells, until we stopped in front of one that had no window at all. Using his handprint to open the door, Garensche jerked his chin for me to follow as the organics melted to reveal an oval opening in the stone-like surface.

  I followed him through warily, surprised when I found myself standing inside what looked more like a control room than a cell. My eyes were immediately drawn to my right. An observation window made up most of that wall; the view through it looked down on a square, featureless room with organic walls. The floor of the second room started a few feet lower than the one on which we stood. That one looked more like a cell...or an interrogation room, maybe. Not all that dissimilar to where we’d kept Feigran in Seertown, really.

  Inside, I saw Revik. He sat backwards on a chair, his chin resting on his forearms, which rested on the organic chair’s back. My eyes followed his to where they focused on the seer sitting on the floor near him.

  Feigran wore a collar, but he wasn’t cuffed.

  He didn’t look bruised, or sleep deprived, or underfed.

  I felt something in me relax.

  Then I looked back at Revik, trying to decide what I could see in his face. His eyes remained on the seer on the floor. I saw his lips moving then, and realized they were talking.

  Garensche sat in one of the control room chairs, indicating for me to join him in the adjacent seat. I lowered my weight next to his, without looking away from the view window.

  “Want to listen?” he said, gesturing towards the panel.

  I nodded, my eyes still on Revik. His face looked concentrated, but not angry. In fact, if anything, he looked thoughtful, like he was trying to make up his mind about something...or maybe listening, trying to understand.

  “...and you can’t remember any further back?” he said, as the sound rose in the room below. “...What about your mother?”

  Feigran wiped his face, sniffing a little. I realized he was crying.

  “No,” he said. “No, brother...”

  “Take your time. It’s all right...I don’t expect it will come back all at once...”

  I swallowed a little, surprised by the empathy I heard in his voice.

  Terian, or Feigran, shook his head again, rubbing his face.

  “It won’t come back...” he said. “It won’t. Monsters. Monsters under the bed. Gnawing bones. Eating—”

  “Okay,” Revik said. He held up a hand, his voice still calm. “Okay. We’ll leave that one alone then, my brother...”

  “Monsters...” Terian muttered again, wiping his face.

  Revik measured him again with his eyes, but I still saw that empathy there. “Can you tell me anything about your first memories of Galaith? That was when things got better for you, yes? Do you remember how he found you?”

  “Brother, I cannot...”

  Revik held up a hand. “I am sorry,” he said, softer. “I’m pushing you. It’s just that we don’t have much time...we must know what is coming...”

  “I know...I know...” Feigran’s face screwed up, making him look even younger. His eyes still reflected agitation, along with a kind of frustrated concentration. “I am sorry...”

  “It’s all right,” Revik said. “It’s all
right, Feigran...I know you have been through a lot. I know how hard it’s been. It’s just that you have a gift...”

  Feigran’s voice grew more agitated. “I want to help you, brother. You know I do...I am so sorry. So sorry I am useless to you...”

  “You’re not useless,” Revik assured him. “We’re brothers. I’m not angry, Feigran...I am trying to help...”

  I felt my lips press together. I knew I wasn’t getting all of this, or even close.

  When Revik said brothers, he hadn’t sounded figurative.

  “I know,” Feigran said again. “...I know...” He sniffed, rubbing his face with dirty hands. “You’re a good man, brother...a good man...”

  His eyes filled with tears while I watched.

  I bit my lip, fighting bewilderment, along with an emotional reaction I found myself grappling with underneath. Their interaction touched me, deeper than I could have explained to myself, but my mind kept wanting to intervene. Terian had tortured Revik for months. He’d tortured Jon and Cass, nearly killing all three of them. He’d kidnapped me, raped me in D.C. He’d beaten me, losing control at one point until he nearly killed me.

  I was genuinely glad Revik wasn’t exacting revenge, but I couldn’t help but be a little thrown by his seeming indifference to all that, too.

  For a few minutes, Feigran just cried, gripping his long auburn hair in his hands as he shook uncontrollably.

  I wondered if Revik had him drugged. I couldn’t help but notice though, his body looked less sick. He looked like he’d been eating better, even since China. His fingers were still bloody, like they had been in the Forbidden City, but I found myself doubting Revik had anything to do with that, either. In fact, a fresh pad of paper lay beside him on the floor of the cell, along with the one Jon had given him out of pity in Nepal. I saw sticks of charcoal littering the floor, too, next to a half-full bottle of water.

  The older pad, the one Jon had given him, lay open to a half-finished drawing. Staring at it, I realized in surprise that it was of me.

  Well, in part, anyway. I wore the hanfu dress I’d worn the day I left the Forbidden City, and I was sitting on the seat of a limousine, watching a man whose half-finished outline looked a lot like Revik’s. He stared out the window of the car, his jaw propped on the back of his hand.