by Sam Sisavath
“Ugh, spare me the visuals.” She looked past him at the empty room again. “So what happened while I was asleep?”
“They gave up about two hours ago.”
“Just like that?”
“I guess with their pals dead and all their friends—including their COs—telling them to come to their senses all night long, they finally buckled. It was all very anticlimactic, to be perfectly honest with you. Me and Jolly were ready to bust the door down and come in shooting like Rambo and his mini Rambo. It totally ruined our morning. Heck, we could barely keep our breakfast down afterward, we were so disgusted.”
“What’s a Jolly?”
“The big kid that was just in here with me.”
“Who is he?”
“One of Riley’s guys.”
She gave him a surprised look. “And you gave him a rifle after what they tried to do last night?”
“The kid’s cool.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me, cool knows cool, and Jolly Green Giant’s cool as a cucumber.” Danny got up. “But back to you. You gonna lie in bed all day, or what?”
“That depends. What’s happening out there?”
“Well, we’re not going to the Bengal Islands after all.”
“When did that happen?”
Danny told her about the radio broadcast from Black Tide Island, about the stand-down order that had been issued to Mercer’s army back in Texas.
Then Danny smirked. “You remember ol’ Benford? Back in Gallant?”
“How could I forget?”
“Apparently he was one of the big cheeses. Big dead cheese now, anyway.”
“Fuck him,” Gaby said.
“Harsh,” Danny chuckled.
AFTER DANNY LEFT, she quickly grew tired of being in the room all by herself and swung her legs off the bed and sat up for a moment, just to see if she could. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she had been expecting, and she found that moving actually helped with the occasional slight pain.
She stood up and looked around for her clothes. There was so much light in the room now as opposed to last night that she had no trouble finding a fresh pair of khaki cargos draped over a chair along with a thermal sweater from her personal effects clearly waiting there for her. She smiled, thought I love you, Nate, and made sure the door was locked before stripping out of her “patient” clothes and pulling on her own. She only grimaced three or four times during the whole thing, and once she (very) carefully slipped her left arm through the sleeve, was feeling like herself for the first time in seemingly weeks.
Walking was easier than moving any part of her upper body around, and with her left arm (and everything attached to it) basically immobile as a precaution under the sweater, she opened the door and stepped outside and headed down the hallway. There were plenty of footprints immediately outside and around the infirmary—evidence left behind by Danny and the others as they moved around last night—but no actual people.
She slipped outside using the nearest door, drawn forward by the rays of light on the other side. The sun and cool weather against her face was a monumental relief, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed the fresh air until she was standing in the middle of it. The old Gaby would have loved to lie in bed for days being tended to, but Gaby 2.0 needed to move even when there was nothing to do.
The Trident was almost as quiet outside as it was inside, with just the waves slapping against the hull and the occasional howl of wind gusts. It was a nice (ridiculously nice, in fact) cloudless sky, and she had the urge to keep going rather than retreat.
She ended up down the side of the boat until she was on the lower deck. She didn’t know how she got there, but soon she was walking toward the engine room and spotted a lone, small figure standing guard in front of it.
Maddie heard her approaching and glanced over. “She lives!”
Gaby smiled. “Hey, Maddie.”
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“Bed was getting boring.”
Gaby glanced past her at Lorelei, who was moving up and down the deck behind Maddie. The girl looked as if she were moving in slow motion, or maybe she just wasn’t certain where she was going, if anywhere at all.
“Kid’s all messed up,” Maddie said. “Fighting through it like a champ, though. Good for her.”
“I heard about Carrie.”
“Yeah. It sucks. But at least Benny’s going to get through it.”
“Thank God for that.” Then, looking past Maddie at the engine room door, “Is he alone down there?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I haven’t really gotten the chance to…talk to him.”
“You sure you wanna go down there? The last two people who did didn’t come back up.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and managed a forced smile while thinking, She’s right. Stay up here where it’s safe. You don’t really want to go down there, do you?
Well, do you?
She hadn’t turned around and left by the time Maddie pulled the hatch open, so Gaby gave the small Texan a pursed smile and stepped inside. She moved on automatic pilot through the machinery, not sure what she was doing down here or if she really wanted to see what was waiting at the other end—
She smelled the blood before she actually saw it on the floor toward the end of the narrow hallway. She stepped cautiously over and around the dry puddles until she was in front of the cabin door. Gage had been using the room until Lara dealt with him, and once upon a time it was supposed to be hers and Nate’s. But now it had become a makeshift brig, though at the moment there was nothing to fear from its only occupant.
Keep telling yourself that; then maybe your hands will stop shaking.
She managed to calm down enough to pull the lever and yank on the door, relying entirely on her good right arm. Artificial light from the hallway glinted off spent shell casings that still littered the floor, many of them held in place by the plentiful blood that had been spilled last night. She tried to look for the black among the red, but if Will had been injured and bled out, she couldn’t spot the evidence.
Gaby didn’t close the door behind her as she stepped inside. She told herself that there was no point—because sunlight didn’t reach this far down and the cabin’s only window was covered from the outside world—but the truth was she wanted an easy way out if she needed it.
I won’t need it. Not down here, not with Will.
Not with Will…
There was a slight movement in the corner of the room as a figure—tall and skeletal—stood up in the shadows, piercing (pulsating) blue eyes watching her back from the blackness. The hairs on the back of her neck went straight, and a shiver snapped up and down her spine. Memories of the farmhouse, of the nights in Gallant, rushed back in a tidal wave.
Gaby pushed through the overwhelming uncertainty (What are you doing down here? Are you crazy?) and the fear, and stood her ground. Her legs weren’t shaking nearly as much as she expected, but she hadn’t moved any closer toward it, either.
Him. It’s a him, not an it.
It’s Will.
Mostly…
“Will,” she said, his name coming out softly, as if she were afraid to say it too loudly.
There was no answer, and the shadowy form in the corner continued to watch her back in silence. For a moment she wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken his name, that maybe it was all a figment of her imagination. Maybe she was actually back in the infirmary, sleeping off another round of meds-induced haze—
“Frank,” it said, the word coming out as a soft hiss, as if it was doing everything possible to hide it.
“Frank?” she repeated.
“Will’s dead,” it hissed. “He’s been dead for a while now.”
“Danny says you’re Will…”
“I was…”
“But not anymore.”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
It—no, not it, but he—didn’t a
nswer right away. Maybe he was thinking about the answer, or maybe he just didn’t feel like talking. It was hard to tell, because she could barely make out the tight contours of his face or the smooth dome of his head. The only thing she could be sure of were the eyes, like twin solar flares in a galaxy devoid of life, focusing in on her.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked. “Danny says your memories come and go.”
“Gaby,” he said.
Her heart leapt in her throat and the smile came out unexpectedly. “You remember me.”
“Yes…”
“Are you…okay?”
Something along his face moved. Did he just…smile?
“Yes,” he said (hissed). “I’m healing.”
“Will you be okay?”
“Yes…”
Gaby looked down at the dried puddles of blood that covered the floor. The chest they had stuffed him in before leaving Gallant was riddled with bullet holes, pieces of the lock and clamps scattered across the room.
She looked up and tried to see him through the shadows. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond. Maybe he didn’t know why she was apologizing (Did she know?) or maybe it was something else entirely. And maybe she didn’t know what she was doing down here after all.
It’s Will. You don’t have to be afraid.
It’s Will.
“We left you back there,” Gaby continued. “In Louisiana. We should have gone back for you.”
“You…had no choice,” he said. “That was the plan.”
“It was a stupid plan.”
“Maybe…”
“We shouldn’t have left you. We should have gone back for you.”
“There were too many…”
“We should have risked it.”
“No.”
She shook her head. “We should have tried, instead of just leaving you out there by yourself. All this time, we’ve wondered what had happened to you. What your last moments were like…” It was suddenly very cold in the room and she wrapped her arms across her chest, ignoring the stab of pain from her left shoulder. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry for abandoning you.”
He didn’t say anything, but if she thought he was ignoring her, the glowing blue eyes that hadn’t left her face since she set foot into the cabin said otherwise. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say or how to respond to her all-too-human confession. Was that it? Was he beyond (human) things like that now? Maybe this wasn’t the Will she remembered after all—
“I forgive you,” he said finally.
She started to cry. It was stupid and girly, and she despised herself for it, but the first tear sneaked its way down her cheek and it was quickly followed by another, then another. At least she could say she never went full Gaby 1.0 and bawled her eyes out in front of him, in this dark room covered in blood and death. If she was going to cry, at least they were silent tears.
“Gaby,” he said.
She looked up at him, the tears coming faster now.
“You saved her,” he said, his eyes never wavering from hers. “You saved Lara. I would do it again, a hundred times over, for the same outcome.”
She fought through the emotions, wondering if she looked as silly and childish as she was feeling. But she didn’t care, and didn’t try to stop any of it. Instead, she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, only to make room for new ones.
“I don’t know if we saved her or if she saved us,” Gaby said. “You should have seen her that night. She was amazing. We couldn’t have done any of this without her. Or gotten this far. You picked a good one.”
“I know.”
“Has she been down here?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve talked.”
“We have...”
“And you told her everything?”
He nodded. Or she saw his head bob slightly in the shadows. “She knows what she has to do. The only thing left is to do it.”
“That’s the trick, isn’t it? Knowing what to do is the easy part. Getting it done, that takes a little doing.”
“Yes.”
She managed a smile. “So. Frank?”
“Yes…”
“That’s a stupid name. You don’t look like a Frank at all.”
He made a sound—it might have even been a snort, though she couldn’t be entirely certain—and said, “I know.”
8
LARA
“I DON’T AGREE with what Phil and the others did, but you can’t blame them,” Riley said. “One of those things, on the boat with us…”
“He’s not just ‘one of those things,’” Lara said. “He’s a friend.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that. He. You keep calling it a he.”
Because he used to be Will. Because he used to be my everything. And because I have faith that he’s here to help me, to help all of us.
God help me if I’m wrong.
“He’s an old friend,” she said.
“It used to be,” Riley said, looking at her intently from across the bridge of the Trident. “It’s not anymore. You have to accept that.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d been in Texas with us,” Gaby said.
The teenager (though it was hard for Lara to think of Gaby as one anymore, her age notwithstanding) stood next to Blaine, and if Lara was concerned about her being up and about after only a full day’s rest, Gaby didn’t just look okay; she looked energized.
There were six of them in all inside the room, with Hart and Danny making up the other bodies. They had been there for a while, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Not just with Phil, but the why behind his actions.
“He might not be Will anymore, but he’s still our friend,” Gaby continued. “And he didn’t come here to hurt us, otherwise he wouldn’t have let us lock him inside an old chest and transport him across water that could kill him, in the daylight.”
“You ever been stuffed inside a wooden chest?” Danny asked. “Granted, he’s all spindly and such, but it’s still kinda a big deal.”
“You said it was hurt back in Gallant,” Hart said. “Maybe it didn’t have any choice.”
“Oh, it had a choice, all right.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“But I do, Hart to Hart, I do.”
“Hart to what?”
“It’s his thing,” Blaine said. “Just roll with it.”
“Thanks for that, Capitan Blaine-o.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bottom line,” Danny said, turning back to Hart and Riley, “he didn’t have to come here. He didn’t have to do any of the things he did. That means a lot in my book. And trust you me, people don’t get into my book just willy-nilly.”
Maybe Danny’s and Gaby’s words didn’t completely convince Hart and Riley, but Lara thought it might have softened the duo a bit. Even if they weren’t there yet, it was a good start, and after the night she’d had, she could work with it.
“I know how all of this sounds,” Lara said. “You didn’t know him like we did. But as hard as it is for you to grasp, imagine how much more difficult it is for us, to have him come back after we had given him up for dead. It’s him, but at the same time it’s not. It’s…not an easy concept to just accept at face value, but it’s the truth.”
“You’re right,” Riley said. “To us he’s a stranger, but to you it’s possibly an old friend coming back after…dying?” He shook his head, struggling for the right words. “It’s not something that happens every day, even these days. We’re going to need some time.”
“And this plan of his,” Hart said. “What did you call it?”
“Plan G,” Danny said. “I came up with the name, by the way. Brownie points if you can guess what the G stands for.”
“Georgia?” Blaine said.
“Close, but no cigar.”
“I think we all know what the G stands for,” Gaby said.
“It’s not you,” Danny sa
id.
“No shit.”
Lara focused on Riley standing across from her. If she had any hope of advancing Will’s new plan, it would have to be through Riley. As much as she doubted the man’s decision-making ability, Riley was her best shot at the moment.
“This is what he does,” Lara said. “Will has always been a strategist. His mind is the reason we stayed alive through the first few months of The Purge. The reason we’re still standing here.”
“It’s what he used to do,” Riley said. “You said it yourself, Lara. He’s not the man he used to be. He’s not even a man at all.”
“But it’s still him.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I spent an hour in a room with him. I looked into his eyes. Turning into that… Turning didn’t take away his ability to think. If anything, he’s even more capable now. And he’s been out there, deep behind enemy lines, absorbing everything that makes them, them. How many of us can say that?”
“Bottom line?” Danny said. “You can take the boy out of the Ranger, but you can’t take the Ranger out of the boy. Ol’ Will did what he did best when we thought he was gone. He infiltrated, collected intelligence, and came up with a way to save everyone. Pretty friggin’ impressive, if you ask me.”
“Maybe, if he’s right,” Hart said.
“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Riley said. “If he’s right. Just to find out is going to take a lot more than what we have on this boat.”
“There’s nothing we lack that Black Tide can’t provide,” Lara said.
“It won’t be easy,” Will had said, “and people will die.”
People have already died, Will. Too many people. Good and bad, and everyone else in-between, too. And people will keep dying…unless we stop it.
“It’s not an easy thing, what you’re asking,” Riley said.
“Who says it was going to be easy?” Gaby said. “We’re talking about ending this once and for all. Even if it’s the hardest thing we ever do, shouldn’t we do it anyway? The entire human race is on the line.”
“Not nearly dramatic enough, kid,” Danny said. “But Kid Ranger’s right. It’s now or possibly never. Maybe it’s just the old fart in me, but I don’t much like being at the bottom of the food chain. I like it better on top—and yes, that’s what she said.”