Waging War

by April White

  I crouched behind the boulder, confident that neither shooter could hit me if they held their positions. But Grunty was on the ground, and if he took about twenty steps away from that tree, he’d have me back in his sights.

  My heart pounded beneath my Cougar skin and my breath came in shallow pants.

  It was a good run, she said. I was a little surprised until I realized her tone was one of agreement rather than praise. We’d done it together, minds and body working in concert, instinct and thought combining to keep us intact.

  I ran down a mental list of my escape options, none of which were particularly comforting. I thought Archer knew where I’d ducked out, so hopefully he and Nancy would be able to come up with something distracting enough to give me a chance to run.

  Shifting back to human was an option if I had any hope at all that a naked girl in the woods would distract the snipers. I thought it was just as likely that Loogie would shoot me because I was a naked girl in the woods.

  The shots had stopped, but with my predator sense, I could hear the crackling of footsteps on dirt. I tensed, ready to spring either at Grunty or away from him, depending on which side of the boulder he came around. I wasn’t ready for the sound of an impact, or for Grunty’s sudden appearance on the right side of the rock – face down in the dirt. I leapt away and almost reversed direction to attack when I saw a figure appear where Grunty should have been standing.

  “Saira. It’s me!” Ringo’s fierce whisper broke through my Cougar’s fight instinct. Just in time too, because he had to leap behind the boulder to avoid the shot from Loogie’s rifle over our heads. He put a hand out to my neck, and I realized we were both trembling, most likely from adrenaline, though terror wouldn’t have been unreasonable.

  Another shot clipped the edge of the boulder and sent bits of granite flying at us. One of them must have clipped Ringo’s cheek because I could smell blood on him that hadn’t been there before.

  He dropped to his stomach and slithered forward toward the form of Grunty, still sprawled on the ground at the base of the rock. Blood dripped down from Grunty’s scalp, and I thought he might have hit his head on the rock when Ringo pushed him from behind.

  Ringo reached a tentative hand forward and gripped a piece of leather. Slowly and carefully, he pulled the strap until he had Grunty’s sniper rifle in his hands. The hands were still shaking, but Ringo’s grip was firm as he slithered backward away from the edge of the boulder.

  He finally sat up and leaned back against the rock. There were tears in his eyes as he pulled the rifle into a shooting position. But the rifle was too long and it trembled too much in his hands. He switched his grip to use the rifle like a club if he had to, then wiped his nose and finally looked into my Cougar’s eyes. He burst out in an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed the tears away fiercely.

  I sat next to him with my back against the boulder and leaned into him. His hands didn’t leave the rifle except to wipe away snot and tears, but I could feel the adrenaline shake slip away and sensed his composure returning. I didn’t think Ringo would ever tell me why the tears came, and I probably wouldn’t ask him.

  Grunty was still breathing, but I wasn’t sure he would regain consciousness. That left one treed sniper. I wanted him to run, but not until we were close enough to the road to be able to intercept and follow. And now that he knew where we were, he could just keep a line of sight on our rock and wait. There was nothing ideal about this scenario – nothing at all.

  Ringo and I had Grunty’s sniper rifle, so if we had to, one of us might be able to take a shot into the trees to scare him out. It was hardly ideal because of the fire we would draw to our barely protective rock, and I knew our best bet to get out of this alive and intact was to run. I was faster than Ringo, and could draw Loogie’s fire away from the rock so he could escape. It might be the only way to get back out to the road in time to follow Loogie when he inevitably ran.

  I got my Cougar body into a crouch so Ringo could read my body language. He looked at me for about half a second, then shook his head. “No, ye can’t be another distraction to the sniper. We run together or not at all,” he whispered fiercely.

  I lifted my lip to show him teeth. I’m meaner than you, I said to him in my head. I’m faster, and I can take his fire so you can run. Ringo looked at my expression and matched it with a fierce one of his own.

  “Fine, if you do that, I’m not running. I’ll stay here and shoot until one of us runs out of bullets. Ye will not get shot for me.”

  I growled at him and would probably have bitten, except for the explosion.

  BOOM!

  We barely even had time to think before we leapt forward and bolted. I took the lead because Ringo paused a half-second to sling the sniper rifle over his shoulder, but then he was right behind me. The night sky was on fire with orange and red and gold, and I realized the Maquis must have blown the bridge. It was about the only thing that could have distracted Loogie enough for us to escape, and despite my prickly conscience about the train that could have been on it, I was absurdly relieved.

  I suddenly ducked behind a big oleander bush, and a moment later, Ringo was next to me. I Shifted, in a shimmer of colors, and didn’t even register the surprise on Ringo’s face until I had time to think again.

  “Clothes,” I said, thrusting out my hand. He took my clothing bundle off his back and re-adjusted the sniper rifle to fit the extra space while I got dressed.

  “Their truck will be stashed someplace close.” My whispered voice came in gasps, and Ringo was nodding his agreement.

  He jerked his head to our left. “The bridge is blown, so ‘e’ll ‘ave to go past us to get back to Limoges. We’ll do better on our bicycles than on foot.”

  “If he goes back for Grunty, we might have time to get them.” I shoved my feet into my boots and quickly did up the laces.

  Ringo made an indiscernible face. “Not sure there’s anythin’ to go back for.”

  I looked at him sharply. “He was still breathing when we left.”

  “’E was bleedin’ and ‘e wasn’t movin’, neither of which is promisin’.”

  Now I had an idea what the tears had been about, but we were already burning up precious seconds, so I just said, “I say we go for the bikes, and maybe Archer and Nancy will stake out Grunty.”

  He nodded sharply and hauled me to my feet. “I’m leadin’ this time.”

  Ringo didn’t once look back to see if I was still with him, which I took as a compliment. He just knew I’d be there. I kept anticipating the zing of sniper fire whizzing through the air, but the woods were silent around us except for the pounding of our boots on the dirt.

  A few minutes later we were back at the road where we’d left our bicycles. We propped them up just behind a bush by the road so they’d be ready to ride at a moment’s notice, and then we settled down into the gully to wait for Loogie’s vehicle to drive by. I was struck by how very silent the night had gotten. The explosion seemed to have distracted the crickets from their chirping, and even our breathing had gone quiet.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  Ringo looked at me a long moment before he spoke. “I’m not goin’ back to ‘Is Lordship without ye.”

  My breath caught in my chest. There were so many motives for why we did what we did, and I probably had ten of them for running my Cougar out into the open to draw the snipers’ fire away from Archer and Nancy. It actually didn’t surprise me that one of Ringo’s motives would be to make sure I got back safely to present-day Archer. But until he said that, I hadn’t quite realized that he was still holding onto the idea of two different Archers, which meant every time Ringo saw me hold Archer’s hand or get kissed by him, a part of him might think I was cheating on his friend.

  We were lying on our stomachs with our heads toward the road, and I rolled over onto my back and nudged him to do the same. He did, fitting his arms behind his head as he looked up at the sky, now streaked with dark gray smoke. I laid my head
on his shoulder and folded my fingers together across my stomach.

  “You know what I was thinking about earlier tonight?” I said to the sky.

  “No idea,” Ringo answered.

  “Time travel rules.”

  He made a non-committal sound in his throat. An owl swooped overhead noiselessly. The silence was becoming unnerving, and I felt like it needed to be filled with good things.

  “Archer couldn’t go where he already was, right? That’s why he didn’t come with us.”

  “Right. I know.” Ringo was quiet a moment before he continued. “But it’s different knowin’ a thing in yer ‘ead, and knowin’ it in yer ‘eart.”

  “What makes your heart feel differently?”

  Ringo sighed deeply, and I thought I could almost hear the tension in his chest. “Yer Archer trusts me. ‘E trusts me to be yer friend and to take care of ye. ‘E doesn’t wonder if ye’d ever choose me, because ‘e’s so sure of what ye are to each other.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, or say something, or maybe just catch flies, but Ringo’s scoff cut me off. “Ye remember when we first got ‘ere, to this time? I wouldn’t stay in ‘is secret library room with ye? Yer Archer’s the one who told me to step carefully around ‘imself. This war was ‘ard on ‘im, and there are still ‘oles in ‘is memory.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, he told me about the PTSD.”

  “The thing ‘e called shell shock? It wasn’t just about the fightin’ though. ‘E also told me about Marianne and Marcel.”

  “He did? Why wouldn’t he have told me?”

  “Because he didn’t remember what ‘appened to them. It’s one of the gaps, and ‘e feels damaged for not knowin’.”

  My voice came out in a whisper. “Didn’t he try to find them after it was over?”

  “Saira, ‘e wasn’t the same then … now, I guess. Whatever ‘appened in this war changed ‘im.”

  “He said he went to live in the cellar at St. Brigid’s after the war.”

  “Seems a lonely existence for a man who broke secret codes at Bletchley Park and worked with the French resistance, don’t ye think?”

  “You think he was hiding?”

  “Yeah, I think maybe ‘e was.”

  It made sense, what Ringo said. Archer had given me only the broadest strokes about his time in World War II, and what he had told me had seemed fraught with … I didn’t know, maybe guilt? Well, whatever had happened to him in this time was my problem now. I faced Ringo, propping my head up on my elbow.

  “It’s not a reason to hold them as separate people. If anything, it’s our chance to maybe help him heal whatever it was that happened here.” I considered my words. “Think about it as pre-emptive friendship. Worst case, we’ll know the truth of this time for him and maybe understand him better in our own time. Best case, we might actually be able to take away some of his burden.”

  Ringo had turned his head to regard me but stayed on his back, and eventually his eyes went back to the stars above us. He finally nodded. “Right. Ye’re right. We’re not just ‘ere to find Tom, we’re ‘ere with Archer.”

  “It’s a chance to know a part of him we could only otherwise take his word for, and maybe bring back his memories in the process.”

  “Right.” Ringo sighed as if the conversation had exhausted him.

  I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  He smirked, and my heart smiled. My Ringo was back. “Who else could watch a Cougar’s back? A Wolf wouldn’t be caught dead, and a Bear … too important. Only me.”

  I poked him in the ribs. “Yup. Only you.”

  Archer – Present Day

  It was utterly irrational to feel this way, and yet entirely reasonable at the same time. I hated Ringo with one breath and loved him with the next.

  My memories from the war were becoming clearer with each day Saira and Ringo were gone, and I was startled to realize how very much she had impacted that period in my history. For so long I had assumed that the missing pieces were the result of wartime trauma and of choosing to forget. It was unsettling to know the memories had never fully been there in the first place.

  I woke to an overwhelming sense of envy. I had always known Saira’s connection with Ringo was unique and remarkable, as my own connection with her had been since the beginning. Yet the memories of France that were becoming clear were laced with a sense that I had invaded something private between them; that I was the interloper, and they played the central role.

  My thoughts were full of these contradictory emotions as I sought out the greenhouse laboratory, a beacon of light in the darkness, as a moth would seek a flame. Shaw was working alone, as no doubt Connor had been called into the garage flat for the night. I had instructed the brothers to tell their mother about the things they’d been doing to help us prepare for the tunnels, but I doubted that conversation had happened yet. I had a letter for Liz Edwards in case Connor and Logan decided it was, as Saira would say, easier to ask forgiveness than permission, and it would be dropped off with more than enough time to make sure they’d be well and properly grounded when I descended into the tunnels.

  Shaw looked up at the sound of the door closing, but his expression was blank for the second it took to register who I was.

  “I’m interrupting,” I said, preparing to turn and go.

  “So?” Shaw’s tone was gruff, and it was a forcible reminder of the Bear he became.

  “So, you look as though you’re on the verge of curing cancer or ending world hunger. In my experience, it’s best not to interrupt things like that,” I responded dryly.

  He smirked at that and ran his hands through his ginger mane. “You, of all people, are welcome to interrupt this.” Shaw stepped away from his microscope, which had left a pressure ridge around his eyes. “I believe I’ve eliminated as many variables as I can control in a lab. The only further tests that can be run on the telomerase inhibitor are practical.”

  I leaned back against the desk as casually as one can when one needs to support one’s shaky legs. “The cure is ready.”

  Shaw shook his head grimly. “I don’t believe I can say it’s ready with the degree of certainty I’d like, however, it’s as ready as I can make it.”

  I stared at him. “What’s next?”

  “I believe that’s up to you.”

  “You said before, I would have to sustain some sort of massive injury in order to overload my own system so it didn’t attack the virus.”

  He nodded solemnly. “That is true.”

  I exhaled sharply. “It’s what Saira is afraid of.”

  “I can’t say I blame her,” he said in a tone I could only describe as gentle.

  I looked at the work table in front of him. “In what form would the cure be administered?”

  Shaw picked up a small plastic syringe. “This. The carrier virus is blood-borne, therefore, direct injection into a vein will be most effective.”

  “Do you, by chance, have a cap for that needle?”

  Shaw scowled. “Of course I do.” His gaze rested on me a long moment before he spoke. “You want to carry a loaded syringe with you.”

  “Two of them, if I may.”

  “One for you. and one for Tom?”

  I smiled, though without any real humor behind it. “One never really knows when one might encounter a mortally wounded Vampire.”

  Shaw looked entirely thoughtful as he pulled two plastic syringes out of their wrappers, then brought a rubber-capped vial out of the locked cabinet behind him. I was mesmerized by the syringe-filling process, and fascinated that something as enormous as life or death could be contained in a vessel so small. When both syringes were filled and capped, he wrapped them up in a foot-long strip of silk and handed them to me. “You can use the silk to tie off an arm, or it can be a bandage in a pinch.”

  My smile was slightly more genuine at that. Shaw’s preparedness was something Saira had always admired about him, and I could see that it had ru
bbed off on Ringo as well.

  I didn’t really think through my next words before I said them. “I’m beginning to remember things.”

  Shaw stopped the workspace fussing he’d been doing and fixed his gaze on me. “About the time that Saira and Ringo are in now?”

  I nodded, silently debating the wisdom of continuing. It had been a very long time since I’d sought anyone’s opinion but Saira’s. “I find I’m struggling with residual anger. Some of it is at myself, for the things she is experiencing with me now, and some of it is directed toward Ringo.”

  I could tell that surprised him, but he merely waited for me to continue and said nothing.

  “I know it’s irrational to feel this way about a young man I consider my brother, and yet I believe it is the reaction of my younger self to the trust she has in him and the ease with which they relate to each other.”

  Shaw considered for a long moment before speaking. “It seems to me it was your younger self who felt threatened by Ringo.”

  “You speak of it in the past, and yet I feel as if it is happening right now.”

  “It may be happening now, but it is your past, and the younger man you were did not have the benefit of all of your experiences with Saira and Ringo. It is you who is enriched by this time they’re spending with you in the past. The man they know there is less complete than the one you are now.”

  I sighed in frustration, and then shocked myself with painful honesty. “Perhaps that’s my concern. The man they know there isn’t … whole. What if Saira decides I’m not enough for her after spending time with that version of myself?”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “Did you forget how young and naïve you were when she originally fell in love with you? I believe there was a time you were concerned that you had become too sophisticated and world-wise.”