Faded Flare

by L. B. Carter

  Henley winced. It was true, she had broken and entered multiple times now—she was up to thirteen counts on her list. An ominous number. The poor woman had probably gotten as much of a scare as she did upstairs. It was a miracle Mrs. Juarez’s heart hadn’t stopped then. Henley hoped Reed had checked tio’s heart was still pumping.

  “Intruders who think they have a right to come in here and eat the last of our supplies and upset you, making your illness worse, and then they dare to ask to take our belongings?”

  “I’m sorry about the pie,” Reed mumbled into Jen’s empty plate. Jen had long stopped picking at the crust of his second slice. “We can offer you what supplies we have in return. …And my jeep, which is far superior to your truck. It simply needs distilled water.”

  “And where are we going to get that?” Lindy snapped at him, dimming the wattage of his subjugating smile. She nodded at the candle. “We don’t even have electricity.”

  “What?” Mrs. Juarez’s chin tilted to her daughter, her condition likely having preserved her from that adjustment.

  Lindy’s hands landed akimbo. Her displeasure at revealing the Juarezs’ destitute condition paled in comparison to her mother’s anger. “Well, now that she knows that, I might as well tell you that you can’t have the truck either.”

  “Lindy.” Mrs. Juarez’s eyebrows dropped on the outer sides, despair pulling her wrinkles down like she was melting in the warm night air.

  No one else spoke.

  “Waste of time,” Buster muttered, turning and clomping out the door. They heard his footsteps crunch in the gravel and fade.

  That was it. They were out of options. Dead end. Especially if they caught what Mrs. Juarez had.

  Henley’s germaphobia was becoming obsessive the longer she went without disinfectant. She eyed the sink. Just how much of a dearth was there? She surreptitiously sniffed her shirt, her nose wrinkling, and pulled away from the pungent mixture of gasoline from Jen’s leaking and destroyed car, her own sweat, and dirt accumulated over several states.

  “Well, at least let them rest the night here,” Mrs. Juarez negotiated with her daughter.

  Lindy shrugged, “Fine with me.”

  Henley was surprised.

  “We’ve no air conditioning, blankets or running water. Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Oh.

  She heaved her mother out of her chair, coming only a few inches above the stooping woman.

  Reed also stood, chivalrous even when it was undesired, which Lindy made unmistakable with another scornful look, her shiny hair swinging with a sheen in the grim lighting.

  The mother-daughter pair shuffled slowly to the stairs, ignoring Henley as they passed, and began to take them one at a time, Mrs. Juarez’s second foot meeting the first with significant effort and gentle grunting, before the first hiked up the next vertical hurdle.

  “Don’t use up our candle. And don’t drink the water in the bucket by the back door if you don’t want what mi familia has. It is for the use of flushing the toilet. Besides, it’s saltwater; it quenches no thirst.”

  Reed, put in his place, immediately blew out the candle, plunging them into a darkness that chilled Henley differently than the haunting shadows had previously. The dismissal from Lindy got to Reed’s pride more than the defeat and abhorrence plummeted the rest of their hopes.

  Chapter Eight

  Ace was crossing into the narrow drive when Henley caught up to him, her footsteps crunching loudly on the gritty pebbles in the otherwise fairly quiet night. He’d known she wasn’t asleep since she’d been tossing and turning on the couch across from him. However, he had hoped for longer alone time on his nighttime walk to organize all the thoughts blurring his mind; they were distracting him from attaining the goal—as were the allergies that were more aggravated in this unclean house than in the faux-clean motel. He rubbed at his eyes.

  Their unplanned sleepover wasn’t helping their timeliness.

  She pulled up next to him, slowing her jog to keep pace, her every two steps for one of his, louder now that the sound was ricocheting off the walls of grain. Her bobbing shadow appeared, much shorter than his on the moonlit path ahead of them, reminding him of her delicacy. Her sheer panic when she’d come charging out of the house earlier had been a shock—she was always so calm and centered. It was a reminder that she was not infallible, to not rely on her. Unfortunately, however, neither was he.

  “It’s so serene out here,” Henley commented after a few moments. “And with no electricity—no BTI—I almost wish we could stay.”

  He glanced at her. Her chin was tilted up, eyes closed, trusting the plod of his footsteps to guide her in the right direction.

  He’d had the thought himself. They were isolated, unable to contact his home, true, but that was an advantage in their current situation. But it made him uneasy in such a close-knit group and not completing the mission he’d been working on for years. Incidentally, he doubted their host would approve of the proposition to permit them refuge for longer than a night; that much allowance was solely a result of the respect held for Lindy’s mother and her generosity. Perhaps, if Henley appealed in her persuasive way, it might be considered.

  A torrid breeze fluttered her long strands of hair, tickling his arm, and she frowned, dropping her head level to the horizon. Ace focused forward as her eyes peeled opened.

  “But hot.” The backs of her fingers replaced the unintentional faint stroke along his outer arm as she ran her hands up and down hers as though wiping off the warm air. She must be aware that generating friction would only increase the heat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been outside the air-conditioned confines of BTI. Four years and—”

  “—eleven months,” he finished. He knew she was looking at him but didn’t turn.

  “How do you—?”

  “We have the same meeting time,” he reminded. That was the truth.

  They traipsed further. “How long for you?” she asked.

  He smiled to himself briefly. Jen was right. This girl could never run out of questions. She would go so far as to investigate how curiosity killed the cat. He almost regretted removing her from her position; her brain was indubitably that of an academic. “Longer.”

  She huffed out an annoyed breath. “Do you ever use more syllables? Or answer questions?”

  He glanced over to raise a single brow, keeping lips tight.

  “Funny,” she said. He knew her expressions. That one was anything but amused.

  She certainly was going to be unamused when she learned all he kept inside. It didn’t bother him. He hadn’t brought her for her approval. She was a means to an end, to rectify a mistake made too many years in wait. He’d had other priorities. Yet, the advantageous opportunity when presented to him, to grab her as a bonus, was too convenient to resist seizing. He was not an idiot—though it certainly seemed like it at the moment.

  Careful planning, years of anticipation, a successful escape… yet, there he was, missing the pick-up, with two extras in tow, and involving some civilians as Nor put it.

  “There are so many stars.”

  Ace realized he’d paced beyond Henley, who’d stopped her amble. He turned. Her chin was back up, pale neck long, but her eyes were wide, the glinting celestial objects reflected in them. Awe was this expression.

  “No clouds. Not a good thing,” he said. Sometimes it seemed Henley’s optimism blinded her to the reality. It was very narrow-minded of her not to conceive all consequences of an action or status.

  Her chin came down. Ace was surprised to see he hadn’t crushed her positivity. She looked pensive, cocking her head. She slowly spun in a full circle, perhaps taking in their surroundings as she should have done immediately if she— “Look around you. Really look. Past the dry dirt and the corn.”

  Ace’s brows shot up. She was claiming he wasn’t observant?

  “Fireflies and crickets,” she pointed out needlessly. The bugs were flashing above the cornstalks like an alar
m on one of his servers, a natural mirror of the stars above, and the latter were the only noise besides their alternating soprano and bass chatter and feet scuffing the unconsolidated ground. “Life continues; it adapts until it finds a way.”

  Ace’s forehead wrinkled further. That was a strange opinion for someone who worked in the tech industry, providing man-made modifications to improve and facilitate the increasingly demanding and lush human lifestyle. “How did you end up in engineering?”

  Henley abandoned the half-smile that had crept up while she watched the bugs flitting overhead and Ace watched her. He couldn’t see her swallow, but he heard it. “Reasons.”

  Ace shook his head. She was returning as much information as he provided her—in her estimation—as he’d done with the Stanleys. It was unwarranted; he simply didn’t have more to offer—well, negligibly more. And that was frustrating him.

  He left her behind, continuing his agitated pacing toward the end of the drive.

  Her shoes revealed when she started to follow again, not that she could remain quiet. “We had a deal,” she called out softly.

  “I haven’t forgotten. I already disclosed confidential intelligence today about my intended destination.”

  “Our destination. You did. I wouldn’t dare accuse you of reneging on the agreement. You’re tight-lipped, not dishonest.”

  Then why—?

  “I want to make a new one.”

  He almost groaned aloud. Henley was fond of requests, whether in question format or insistences. She was like an AI, constantly absorbing new information and recalibrating, ready for the next input.

  Ace admitted to himself that he was curious—about her. She would demand why he brought her, of course. But what would she offer in return?

  She continued when he didn’t respond. “You tell me about your family, and I’ll tell you about mine.”

  Ace stopped abruptly at the unexpected topic of the trade.

  Henley moved around to face him. Her expression was closed off—he couldn’t read her moonlit features. That was unsettling as well.

  “Why?”

  Henley took a step closer. “Because you are a mystery, Buster Acton—a conundrum. I’ve tried, and I can’t understand you. When a solution eludes me, I always stop to learn a little more about the problem—maybe there’s another angle or detail I’m missing.”

  Ah. That was more Henley. That explanation fit. Ace supposed the reasoning was how he worked as well; he had wanted just a little more information to figure out why she wanted to discuss their families until he had solved where her intentions lay. So, perhaps there was logic to the idea.

  “Deal,” he said.

  Henley stepped even further into his personal space, her toes almost touching his. He could see her eyes again, the flashing of the fireflies sparkling the far edges. “You first.”

  “Ladies first,” Ace countered. He hadn’t yet organized his thoughts. Analyzing Henley was distracting him.

  Her mouth drooped in a frown. “As a woman in engineering, I’m far too feminist to allow that. Ladies and men are equal, and chivalry goes both ways. I suggested the deal, I get to decide the terms.”

  Now Ace frowned. “If you propose the deal, that means I, as the accepting party, must consent to the terms.”

  “You did when you said, ‘deal.’” Her mouth was slowly rising with each pass of the conversation.

  “You hadn’t set these terms when I enunciated my agreement; it is incredibly improper to modify a contract after it has been set.”

  She gave a little laugh, her breath brushing his chin, a similar temperature to the air but carrying the faint sent of chocolate from the protein powder. “Clarify, not modify, which, as you so kindly pointed out to me, is perfectly legal in the included terms of an existing contract.”

  Ace knew she was referencing the contract they were all forced to sign upon acceptance of their position at the Institute. It was his pointing out the use of a word that could be taken to mean one subject or another entirely, altering the connotation, that had convinced her to accompany him on his escape. “That was semantics. You didn’t even list any terms that might be disguised as an order for the deal.”

  “Didn’t I?” Her teeth started to show as her lips tilted incrementally higher at the corners.

  Ace thought back, his brow furrowing. Had he missed a second sentence?

  “Ah, the great Bus. I thought you were supposed to be one of the brightest at BTI.” Her grin was wide. “Haven’t caught it yet?”

  Ace was flustered. He was one of the brightest though knowing that she thought that about him made a toasty feeling of pride bubble up that he hadn’t felt in a long time; it had been ages he’d been working toward his goal, too many years before he had what he needed and could flee the east coast for home. “All you said was—”

  “You tell me about your family, and I’ll tell you about mine,” she repeated, emphasizing the subjects of each clause.

  Ace felt disappointed he hadn’t been able to prove his intellect. Perhaps he needed to recalibrate his opinion of Henley’s intelligence with relation to his own. She may be optimistic, but she clearly was processing every minor detail. He needed to be careful. “’And’ does not convey time.”

  Henley snorted haughtily. “The ‘then’ is implied.”

  “But not explicitly stated.” He started to smile, when she didn’t answer.

  She knew she had beaten him in that round of wits. Reluctantly, he was impressed. He had heard she was one of the brightest as well. Clearly, that was not simply a rumor.

  “All right.” He stepped around her, so he wouldn’t have to look at her delighted expression any longer. It diminished his thought capacity.

  Henley joined him, waiting patiently as they walked. He glanced over and saw the smug grin still uplifting her shadowed features.

  What to tell her about his family? She hadn’t quantified how much he was required to reveal in their deal. However, from experience with her ability to argue, he knew that as much as he gave, she would return. “My parents worked in similar fields. They loved what they did. My sister—”

  “You have a sister?”

  He gave her a quelling look.

  Henley raised her palms and snapped her lips together.

  He continued, “My sister took over for my mom when she was old enough. She didn’t like it. She took their work in a whole new direction. They couldn’t stop her.” And neither could Ace. She had too much power that she’d simply inherited from their mom’s efforts.

  Ace held some resentment for that. He’d spent years at university now to prove his worth, in a way, by acquiring what they needed. The second child, he’d had to work hard; nothing was handed freely to him. He also didn’t have the boisterous personality, people skills, or ability to lie like she did to usurp her. The injustice riled him anew. He hadn’t thought about this in so long, the feelings tempered quickly by the overshadowing of the isolated lifestyle at BTI that seemed to dampen the outside world.

  “You said ‘did.’”

  “What?”

  “Your parents loved what they did. Past tense. Are they no longer…?”

  Observant yet again. Ace hesitated.

  “Why are you wary of sharing with me?” Henley asked, more curious than accusatory. “You agreed to the deal, so on some level you don’t mind being open with me. What holds you back from all of it? You’re the one who brought me with you, incidentally exposing me to whatever plans you had for getting out of BTI. If you don’t let me leave, which it seems you’re reluctant to do, then I’m going to find out more and more throughout our trip, assuming we can continue. It’s not the what that I am really interested in; it’s the why. Why don’t you want me to know about you?”

  Ace was floored. Everything she said was valid. And she had simultaneously reassured him while probing him. He needed to learn from her if he was ever to consider overthrowing his sister; she had a way of manipulating people, like the woman in t
he post office—not so much Mrs. Juarez. Although, their host had taken them in, as the old woman had said, as the least she could do for giving Henley a fright.

  “I am not BTI. I won’t weaponize anything you say and use it against you,” Henley added in a whisper.

  Ace glanced over, surprised at the sentiment. That had not been in his thoughts at all. “What did BTI weaponize against you?” he asked since he deduced the idea must come from experience.

  Henley shook her head, peeking at him for only a moment. “It’s not my turn. And that is not about my family.”

  Ace was starting to feel a step behind, metaphorically. It was a new feeling, not so much uncomfortable or frustrating but a challenge. It made him want to push back. His work at BTI had been quite tedious and not at all cumbersome. Henley was more of a match for his mind. In fact, she was more similar than she knew.

  “They’re alive,” he answered her query. “Just no longer able to work.” He paused, weighing his next words. “My father was injured and is now disabled. My mother cares for him.”

  “Oh!” Henley breathed. Ace watched her pull her hands into her chest in his periphery. “I’m sorry…”

  Ace hated that phrase normally. It wasn’t their fault; it didn’t make sense to accept blame and apologize for something most weren’t even there for. In this case, Ace took it to heart and felt his shoulders drop. He hadn’t realized the impact hearing that from her would have. Even if she wasn’t consciously aware of the truth in her apology.

  “Your turn.”

  “Right.” Henley’s arms lowered, and she pulled them behind her back. “My family.”

  The fireflies suddenly seemed brighter, flaring in the night, the ground at his feet sooty and ashy, the air a little bit hotter, wafting into his eyes. His nose began to imagine the musk of smoke as though it still lingered, clinging to the threads of his clothes.

  “Well, I have my mom and my little sister, Bromley. My mom is a school teacher, and Brom…” She gathered herself. “My little sister wants to be just like me.” In contrast to how most would be humbled by that honor, she sounded depressed about that.