by L. B. Carter
It reminded her too harshly of why they were driving into the mountains, raising her impulse to get there in direct correlation with their elevation. She also missed the peaceful feeling of calm-between-storms from the rumbling back of Lindy’s pick-up with new but trustworthy friends at her back and strong, caring arms around her waist. The stomach drops from the bumps of that old suspension had been a lot more fleeting than her current tense nausea.
“Yes.”
Those strong arms turned the steering wheel to avoid a fallen tree, now rotting and sprouting new biota. Life always found a way. There he was again, barreling along, fully focused on his goal, but he wasn’t the Bus anymore. Henley was having a hard time adjusting her mindset to Ace, the USGCS staff scientist, too.
Henley gave Buster an eyebrow raise, which he saw on a quick glance over, resulting in a twitch of his lips. It was rewarding getting him to almost-smile. She felt she’d helped him grow, become a person, instead of being as robotic as the androids she’d aided in creating, during what she was rapidly considering her past life.
Ace was silent for a long time, so Henley assumed she hadn’t helped him grow enough just yet to use real sentences. She turned back to the trees. They felt so familiar and yet so menacing.
It had never really felt the same living in the woods after her dad passed, almost like they’d taken him with greedy, grabbing limbs. She knew that wasn’t true—it had been the flames like those that had almost conquered her if not for Ace’s reluctance to let her go.
She stared down at the raw skin of her hand, coated in a shiny layer of ointment. Surprisingly, this time, her hands had experienced the least damage, her middle, where her gasoline-infused shirt had rested, receiving the highest degree of burn. Her present shirt—another borrowed one, from the kind elderly nurse’s long-since-grown-up daughter, was bulky over the bandage wrappings.
“I was told to.”
Henley turned back.
Ace’s face was dark, clouded like the sky overhead. If only it were clouds—impending rain would be welcome to fight the raging fire that she had instigated.
Instead it was haze, building in the atmosphere from the smoke, traveling far on the mountainous winds. Henley pushed aside the guilt that crackled and flared just like the reaches of the wildfire that wasn’t so wild. She had repeated what was naturally instigated years ago, analogous to Jen and Reed’s discussion of the climate and dinosaurs.
“Told to?”
Ace nodded. “Yes.”
Henley huffed. “Longer, please.”
“I wanted to be a fireman like my dad. I wasn’t allowed. My mother has always instilled me with the idea to put myself first and foremost.”
Henley blinked at the guy, an enigma she strove to delve into, to figure out. “But you saved me.”
“Fake-saved. BTI wouldn’t have killed you,” Ace reminded. “And I brought you for my father. At the beginning anyway,” he appended softly. “Family is an obligation, not a choice. Putting family first is equally selfish.”
Henley turned back to the gravel road, which this truck hid well, the ride as smooth as if they coasted over cement. “So you think I’m selfish. For coming all this way and forcing you to come with me to protect my sister.”
She swallowed, her good hand—now doubly so—coming up to play with her hair then dropping to her lap again. She purposely ignored the sight of the purple glove covering it. Another gift from the nurse, it was nowhere near as effective waterproofing for the extremity as the material she had designed and subsequently destroyed by not completing her degree and, thus, missing one important final test on its readiness. Without the computerized nerve-endings of her old one, using this outer layer was much more complicated and less satisfactory with no feeling to help guide her dexterity. It felt more like a rudimentary and clumsy tool than an improved, sleek replacement of her hand.
“No. You never limit yourself to just family. You helped all of us along the journey, and you’ve agreed to renovate my father’s arm. And as to the second part, I’m …pleased to be here… with you.”
She blew out a heavy breath, gravity pulling her head back against the headrest at their ascending angle, her eyes shutting to block out his latter statement. “You make no sense. That is a blatant juxtaposition. It’s the most selfish, because I dragged you into trouble. I’ve ignited, literally, a natural disaster and national emergency.”
He shook his head again, his heavy brows lowering. “That is the fault of Professor Tate and BTI. Not you. There was no way around that.”
“There was,” she interrupted. “I could’ve gone with Jen’s mom back to BTI as I was contractually obligated to do. I signed the document; it was I who broke the agreement by leaving.”
“Leaving at my suggestion,” Ace said, turning to look at her, bemused.
“Semantics,” she scowled back, not entertained. “I chose to believe you. I chose to break the rules.”
He shrugged. “Nature would have started a fire at some point in this drought. If you had never left BTI, Katheryn Tate still would have gone after the rest of us for leaving and perhaps succeeded in imprisoning Sirena longer. You saved her. And again, without a control recreation, it’s unknown which caused the fire, the drones—the safety of which are the responsibility of BTI—or that BTI prospective kid, Stew, and his stupid attempt to launch a firework from a crowded bridge.”
“Trust the computer geek to blame the engineer. I made those drones.”
Ace didn’t reply, revving the engine to get over a boulder jutting out of the road, the road’s grade steepening as they neared the crest of their current incline.
Henley lurched forward as they crested the slope, and Ace slammed on the breaks, leaving them tilted slightly forward. “What? What?” she demanded, righting herself.
The view spread before them was answer to her question. Ace didn’t answer anyway, as horrified as she.
The entire trail in front of them was aglow. Bright sparks of burning embers dotted along the road edge and the ground to one side. Columns of flames engulfed trees on their right while their left sat in a cloud of smoke, waiting, like a nervous child before that gruesome grandfather as he wafts an exhalation of cigar smoke in their face before swooping in for a wet kiss. The road was a natural fire break, but whether it could continue to resist the hungry force, Henley didn’t know. She wasn’t a fire expert.
“Will it cross over?” she asked Ace. “Should we chance it?”
He shook his head, still eyeing the destruction. The sound of the crackle and pop barely pierced the truck’s expertly-made exterior, making the vision surreal, the windshield a tragic movie screen. “I don’t know.” Frustration flared in his tone. He didn’t like not having answers as much as Henley.
“But don’t you study fire?”
He turned to her, wrinkles in his forehead. “You of all people should understand how specialized someone’s field gets.”
“I hoped maybe you read a paper once or something.” She turned back. Another tree caught in a sudden gush, and she cringed, pain flaring coincidentally in her hand as she fisted it. “Let’s go.” She couldn’t see far down the road, smoke and the brilliance hiding their fate. “I need to get to my sister.”
Ace inhaled audibly through his nose, nostrils flaring, then touched the gas pedal, crawling their truck slowly through the danger. “Keep on this side. I don’t know how strong the glass is on this truck.”
Henley unbuckled and shifted over to sit perpendicular on Ace’s lap, his arms caging her in to reach the steering wheel. She stared out at the dancing oranges and yellows and reds beyond the passenger window, keeping her head back—out of his line of sight and as far from the horror as possible. The roaring got louder as they got further into the fire. The trees looked so desolate.
“What can I do?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” Ace reassured, his voice rumbling through his chest against her side.
She cringed.
“I mea
n that this isn’t on you. This is for my mother to sort out and the fire departments.”
She looked up at his face, the scruff from their days on the road stubbling his wide chin, his dark lashes reaching out below his hairline. “And what if they get hurt?” Like his father. “This is my fault,” she insisted, turning back to take in her greatest mistake, acknowledging it completely.
The window suddenly gave a few sharp cracks and burst into the car. Henley tucked in her arms and ducked into Ace’s shirt, her waist screaming at the movement, and his right arm circled her head. The roar was in the truck now, shouting right at her. She couldn’t avoid it.
Ace swore again, and their crawl pulled to a stop.
Henley sat up and turned to witness the tree that cracked like a gunshot and tipped across their path with a massive crash. It was a carcass, blackened, crisped and broken, massive pieces missing and limbs broken off on the road. Fire licked across it, scurrying for fresh fuel on the other side.
“I’m sorry,” Ace said, his deep voice low. His hand let go of her to shift the truck into reverse, then he slid his arm back around, gently crossing her wounds, holding her close as they reversed away from the fire.
∆∆∆
“They’ll be okay,” Ace promised, his dark eyes soft for once on Henley. She refocused on her hands under the table in her lap.
“You can’t promise that. You don’t know. Don’t lie to me again.” She winced and glanced up to see his mouth turned further down and her heart catching. “Sorry,” she sighed. They were getting good at apologizing to each other. “I don’t mean to take my worry out on you. I’m just—”
“Your mother is fine.” Ace’s father said, hanging up the phone and coming back to sit at the long rectangular table in their family home.
Henley let out a long exhalation, slouching in the chair.
Ace gave her a little encouraging smile and a see-I-told-you-so cock to his eyebrows.
“She’s at one of the stadiums down south that they had people evacuate to a few days ago.”
“And my sister? She’s with her?”
Mr. Acton placed the cell on the table, keeping his other arm concealed below like Henley. He shook his head, hair similar in texture to Ace’s but many inches shorter, shifting. “My contacts in the department said she was already gone.”
Henley surged upright in her seat. “Gone? Gone where?”
He shrugged, sharing a confused look with his son, who didn’t respond; Ace knew what Henley’s fear was. “I assume your mother sent her away during the voluntary evacuation period before she finally gave up the house when Marissa elevated the alert to mandatory evacuation in that area. She was one of the ones the fire department picked up.”
“No,” Henley said and stood up. “She wasn’t.” She started to the door.
“Hen,” Ace called, sounding just like her Daddy.
She froze, eyes shutting, in the middle of the living room. “I know. I promised.” She didn’t turn. “But I have to get to her before it’s too late. The order of the deal was my family, then yours.”
“It’s already too late,” he responded, his voice soft but like a flick of electricity to her heart.
“Then I have to break her out. Like you did for me.” Desperation held Henley’s apprehension at bay, barely. She couldn’t lose her sister to them. She couldn’t lose her, too.
“We will. But we need to plan first. In case you’ve forgotten, our previous method was not ideal.”
Henley turned slowly around. Ace was facing her in front of the table, his eyes hard on her without the screen of his glasses. He’d accepted some replacement contacts from his mother grudgingly. His father still sat behind him, watching the two of them.
“We?” she asked.
Ace smiled. “If you’re going to ‘plow’ into BTI, you’ll need a Bus.” He smiled, a full grin, exposing his teeth. “I follow the terms of my deals.”
Henley’s breath stuttered, a wobbly smile pulling at her lips. “No, I need an Ace in the hole.”
“Semantics.” He laughed deeply.
“Okay. Okay.” She breathed, her ribs smarting. She walked slowly back to Ace, tipping her head back to look at him. “But I’m in charge of things once we get there. No commands. I’m much better with people.”
He nodded. “Deal. And no changing the terms and conditions on me after we shake on it,” he warned. He raised a pointer finger. “And no punching.”
She smiled. “I won’t.” She held out her false hand since her other was too fragile, and he moved it up and down. Warmth infused her body though she couldn’t physically feel his hand enveloping hers.
“You’re her,” Mr. Acton breathed, staring at her hand. His eyes lifted. “You’re okay.” The dark eyes like Ace’s shifted to his son. “You watched over her. Brought her back to me.”
They moved back to sit at the table.
“I’m so glad. And to see you doing so well. A student at BTI with my boy? And that—” He nodded at the contraption she had placed in her lap once more. “—shows me that you haven’t let my failure slow you down. I’m overjoyed.” His smile slipped. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, prevent you that hardship. And… your father.”
“No,” she shook her head resolute. “I’m better than I was before. What happened pushed me to go to school, to learn, to improve upon myself.”
“This makes it all worth it. But… now you have to leave. Already.” Mr. Acton’s face fell, the dark circles under his eyes looking more pronounced. He turned a dispirited expression on Ace. “I’ll miss you, son. It’s boring without you here and with your mother back at work, covering for your sister.”
Henley felt for the man. He’d clearly been struggling a lot harder than she.
Ace was uncomfortable under the pressure, his jaw muscle twitching. “We’ll come back. Henley has a promise to uphold.”
Ace’s father’s dark eyes slid to her.
Henley nodded. “That’s right. And I keep my promises. I’m going to help you.”
He blinked at her.
She took a deep breath. “It’s not an ordinary prosthetic.” She peeled the glove off, exposing the wires and metallic glint of all the inner workings. Her design. No longer embarrassed, she found pride flared at the sight. “I’m an engineer.”
He gazed at it amazed.
“I can make you better than before. I can build you one of these. I hope. Once I get a look at your injury to compare to mine.” She felt like a salesman, but it was true, it was how she felt. “And I’ll make sure it’s both water- and fireproof.”
He was at a loss for words.
“You can be a hero again, Dad.” Ace said softly. “That’s why I brought her here. Though, your help with locating her family was also useful.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Mr. Acton shook his head, pulling back from the magic Henley had been weaving. “Oh, you shouldn’t have made her come. No, you need to go save your family. That’s what my Marissa taught me. Family first.” His good hand tapped the table like a gavel.
“I will. But I also want to help,” Henley insisted. “You saved me so I could help people. Let me help you.”
He hesitated, mouth twisting, then pulled his arm from under the table, laying it on the lacquered surface.
The sleeve was rolled up, and unlike Henley’s amputation, he still had an arm, but the skin was taught, fingers oddly shaped, angled and stiff, grafts clearly patching his arm like a quilt. She doubted he had any feeling, let alone use, in the fingers.
Henley studied it, her mind whirring, planning, designing.
“You can fix this,” he dead-panned with a scoff. He shook his head, hiding the mangled appendage from their sight again. “Nothing can make me a hero again. No, I saved you so that you can go live your life, not come back here with me. Mine has ended.”
“You’re still a hero, Dad,” Ace said softly, eyes downcast.
His words pulled at Henley’s heart, an
d Ace’s helplessness, his inability to cheer up his father, ached like an unhealed wound. He was still here, his father …but he also wasn’t.
“I can make you a superhero,” Henley announced with conviction. His eyes rose to hers, and she held them, keeping her gaze confident. She would. She would help him. She was testament to her skills. “I want to. Please allow me.”
Slowly, his chin dipped, lowering to chest.
Ace looked away, blinking hard.
Henley swallowed at the rejection for Mr. Acton’s sake, for Ace’s.
But… then his chin rose again and repeated the movement a few more times, gaining speed. “All right.”
Ace looked up sharply. “All right? You’ll let her?”
“Yes. On the condition she goes to help her family first.” He blinked at his son. “I-I didn’t think you’d ever see me as a hero after I left you that day.”
Ace’s head shake was adamant. “That was the day you really became a hero.”
Henley was tearing up, watching the Actons rekindle their relationship.
Mr. Acton placed his good hand on Ace’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. Thank you for looking out for this young lady like I asked. You’re more a hero than I ever was.”
Ace looked over at Henley. “No, she is.” Henley smiled back. “I plan to continue to observe her because I don’t yet have her solved.” Henley laughed, tickled that his opinion of her reciprocated hers of him. “She’s just what I needed.”
∆∆∆
“Oh, wait, before you go, I have something I’ve been holding on to for you.”
Henley and Ace paused in the living room, while Mr. Acton vanished into the study around the corner. She bounced on the balls of her feet, anxious to get on the road again and head right back east as soon as they’d arrived after stopping to see her mother.
They were basically nomads. Henley hadn’t felt truly at home since her father’s passing, and anyway, their second home might not be standing, and BTI no longer felt like a safe haven.