Traitor

by Alyson Santos

  Then again, I’m acquainted with the hazards of hovering, so this time I bang out a knock.

  Muffled voices filter toward me, and my nerves accelerate into an overwhelming fear for Kaleb. I would care if he were hurt, if I lost him. Oh god. He’s mine to lose now?

  It’s everything I can do not to expel a confusing exclamation when those eyes peer through a crack in the doorway.

  “Andie, good. Come in quickly.”

  I shriek when I do. “Mom!”

  She returns my embrace amidst Kaleb’s critique of my volume.

  “How did you—where—Did you do this?” I stammer. My boss’ shy smile tells me everything I need to know. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you!” My mother proves it by hanging onto me. “How are you? Are you being treated okay?”

  “I’m great, Mom. You’ve already met my supervisor.” Kaleb returns the acknowledgement and moves toward the door.

  “I’ll give you some time alone. You have about twenty minutes,” he says and slips from the office.

  My mother draws me toward the couch, her arm still tucked around my waist. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that you’re safe and doing well.”

  “What about you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m in one of the senior buildings, 3A. Two of my other roommates are also teachers, and the fourth is a retired notary. I’m working over in the classrooms with the children.”

  “Classrooms?” So many facts I still need to collect about my new home.

  “Yes. There are two academic buildings onsite. It’s not bad, Andie. I love working with the children and the apartment is nicer than ours was in Region 12.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Are you eating enough? You seem thin.”

  “I’m fine. I have all the gruel I can keep down.”

  She takes my hands. “I’ve been waiting to see you since the moment we were separated. I had all these things to say and now…”

  Tears cut her off, but I understand. There isn’t enough time for a real conversation. No topic seems important enough to consume the little that’s left. I wrap my arms around her instead, clinging like I’m six years old again. Like catnip tea is our biggest trial.

  “I don’t know what to make of this place, Mom. Sometimes it’s like a prison. Other times… I don’t know. I feel safer than I did outside.”

  I rest against her shoulder as she squeezes. “I know what you mean. But we’re strong. We survive. This chapter will be no different.”

  “Do you remember when we went to Zone 1 for my registration?”

  “How could I forget? My baby girl all grown up.”

  “Well, thirteen, anyway. It was the first time I’d been outside of 489.”

  “Travel passes are hard to get. We couldn’t afford them.”

  “I know. But that was the first time I realized how big this world is. The first time I felt hope that somewhere things are different.”

  She leans toward me for another hug. “The world is enormous, sweetie. There’s always hope because there’s always good in the evil, light in the darkness.”

  My gaze flickers toward the vacant desk. “Kaleb.”

  “You.”

  I smile and nestle into her familiar strength.

  “You okay?” Kaleb asks after delivering my mother back to her assignment.

  “Yes.” It’s not even a lie since I used every second of my fifteen minutes alone to pull myself together. “Thank you. It means so much to me that you did this.”

  “I wanted you to know she was all right.”

  My mind skims through images of spotlights slicing through darkness, candles. A lighthouse. But suddenly those happy pictures become red folders and threatening stamps. “What about you though? You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “It was probably a big risk for you, so thank you.”

  “We’re not monsters.”

  “You’re not,” I correct, and he looks troubled by my response. Or maybe it’s the optimism that seeps onto my face. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” My heart pounds as the words leak out, and his eyes reach for something, haunting me with flashes of all that I’m longing to explore. I fight the confession we’ll both regret. It’s right there, saturating the air between us.

  “Don’t.” He’s almost pleading. “Please, Andie.” His gaze strikes right to my heart, and an entire conversation passes between us before I break away.

  “I’ll get to work,” I mumble instead. But my files can’t protect me. I still feel him. His presence so incredibly dangerous. His existence. His light.

  We’re silent for the rest of the day.

  “Give us a minute.”

  Kaleb nods to me at his commanding officer’s abrupt greeting the following morning. Sergeant Max Dennel, the Director of Residential affairs at this compound which means he’s basically Kaleb’s double boss. I also know I’m not allowed to voice my concern about the anger on his face or the way his jaw clenches for me to leave them alone.

  “Why don’t you take a break, Andie?” Kaleb’s smile is too weak to be reassuring.

  I decide to take it right outside his door.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? You know they’re looking for an excuse. Any excuse. Why do you keep insisting on giving them one? Fuck, Kaleb!”

  “I get it. I’m not stupid.”

  “No? You’re sure acting like it. You can’t afford any more of this. You know what’s next.”

  “Exactly. Go down swinging, right?”

  “Dammit! This isn’t a joke. You can’t keep doing this. You have to protect yourself for once!”

  Kaleb doesn’t respond, and I flinch at the echo of a fist on a desk. “Here’s your fucking letter of reprimand, Lance Corporal Novelli. Good luck.”

  I’m pretty sure the sergeant doesn’t see me as he marches from the office. He’s too furious to be observant; I’m too torn up to move. It takes several seconds for me to brave an entry, and Kaleb curses when he sees my face. “You were listening again.”

  “Is that about the visit with my mother?” I point to the seal on his desk, and he shoves it under a folder.

  “It was my decision.”

  I shake my head and approach. “You’re in trouble again. Because of me—”

  “No,” he says sharply. “Because of me. Because of a choice I made.”

  The red folder is empty the next time I get a moment alone to check it.

  “Kaleb.” Even his name is a challenge for my tongue as he leans over me. Pushing, panting his desperation with the weight of muscle and power. Or maybe that’s my plea for him. To wrench him deeper. To be filled with him. I need explosions in the recesses of my soul. Pulling, harder, then…

  “Don’t stop!” Words are so useless sometimes. Oxygen is already low in this moment, so irresponsible besides.

  I gasp at the fire. Orange flames turn blue, then white. Climbing, scorching as they rip through my body. “Don’t. Stop.”

  A sharp inhale blasts me to consciousness, but my body still trembles. Air circulates the room in a thin veil. Disappointment. Hunger. I clench my eyes shut at the graphic memories I want to forget and explore at the same time. It’s a mistake, granting freedom to my subconscious, but the rules change in the hazy plane between sleep and consciousness. Briefly, I consider how I’ll face him tomorrow after our night of one-sided passion. What I’ll see when confronted with his uniform hours after stripping it off. After exploring how every inch of him feels. How he tastes.

  I loosen my grip on the sheet. Soft from wear, it tickles my skin as it flutters around me, releasing the scent of detergent. Another reminder. Another swel
l that aches deep and pushes me back to that place I shouldn’t indulge.

  But I can’t let go of this mistake in the darkness that offers plenty of protection from reason.

  Kaleb’s smile is different in the morning. Or it’s my disloyal brain that interprets everything he does through a mask of perfection. His smile. Perfect. His voice. Perfect. The way his fingers hold the pen that scales a list he made of today’s goals. Yep, perfect.

  “You okay?”

  My pulse races at the vivid images flooding back. I try to force them away and stay rational. People have dreams all the time.

  “Fine, why?”

  He shrugs, and I’m not sure he wants more than that anyway.

  “Nothing. I’ll start on the infirmary inventories. Can you sort the bathroom counts for floors one through six? I’ll get the rest tonight.”

  “Absolutely.” Not a problem. Why would it be a problem? Oh, because he didn’t shave today, and all I can think about is running my fingers along his cheek, his jaw. Because he’s discarded his jacket giving me a full view of every defined line of the chest and arms beneath his t-shirt. Because he has no idea how many times I made love to him last night.

  “I love counting,” I say. “Um inventories.” My correction only makes his eyebrows sink into a confused crease.

  “Okay... Great.”

  I swallow and try to prove my love of inventories. They’re full of numbers. So many numbers and handwriting. Perfect handwriting.

  “Hey, Andie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you need me to adjust the temperature in here? You look warm.” He grins. “Now you look really warm.”

  There’s something to be said for the power of shock, the adrenal fuel that fires you toward your roommate when her head smashes into gravel and asphalt during a rec time basketball game.

  “Vi!” I scream. My heart slams in my chest at the dark liquid pooling around her hair. Everyone else takes a step back. I’m the only one moving in the wrong direction. “She needs a doctor! She needs help!” I rip off my jacket and shove it under her head to slow the bleeding. Her body is a crumpled heap on the court, but my panic makes me little more than a hysterical cheerleader.

  “Out of the way. Now,” another voice barks through the crowd. The familiar tone triggers a wave of relief as Kaleb lowers himself to her side.

  “You. Did you call for the medic?” he snaps at a nearby soldier.

  “Yes, sir. They’re on their way.”

  “Then find Thompson and start returning the residents to their rooms. Make an announcement that this woman will be treated and we’ll send updates when we have them.

  “Andie, keep pressure like you’re doing but don’t move her neck. Her name is Viktoria, right?”

  I fight my reaction. “Yes. Vi.”

  “Vi. Okay.”

  He shrugs off his jacket and lays it over her. I fixate on confident fingers stroking her cheek. “Vi, I need you to look at me.”

  He taps her face again when her eyes flutter. “Vi, you need to stay awake and talk to me. I have some questions.”

  “I’m Vi,” she mumbles.

  “Are you now?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Then why is your blood ruining my uniform?”

  She manages the slightest curl of a smile. “We were… we were winning.”

  “I saw that. You’re quite the player. Did you play back home?”

  She tries to nod and winces. “Yes. My whole life. Since I was seventy… Seventeen… No, seven.” Her eyes close again.

  “So the Floor 2 goons had no idea what they had coming against them.” Kaleb gives her another gentle pat.

  She returns to us, and this time manages a grin. “I like surprising people.”

  “I believe it. I know I wouldn’t mess with you if I didn’t have to. You’re a force, that’s for sure.”

  I watch his eyes float over her while he’s talking. It’s a look I know well. Like he sees a world we don’t.

  “Over here!” he calls suddenly. Three medics rush toward us and drop down beside Vi.

  “Blunt force trauma to the head resulting from a fall on the pavement at 1922. Posterior skull abrasion noted with moderate bleeding; a compress was applied immediately after the incident. There was no loss of consciousness but concussion is likely. Will need further testing to rule out skull fracture or intracranial bleeding,” Kaleb says, and I’m overcome by another side of him I hadn’t yet seen.

  “Thanks, Lance Corporal,” a medic replies. “We’ve got it from here. Give us an hour to stabilize her before you come by to do the report.”

  “I’ll stop in at 2100 unless you call me first.”

  He places his hand on my shoulder and leads me behind the fieldhouse. “It’s okay, Andie. She’s in good hands. Trust me.”

  I peer around the corner at my friend. They’ve already replaced my bloody jacket with gauze and a neck brace. A stretcher and other helpful-looking equipment make their case. I don’t know if I trust them, but I trust Kaleb.

  “Andie, hey. She’s going to be fine,” he repeats, and my tears slip out as I fall into his arms. It’s a natural embrace, one of a thousand, instead of our first touch. His grip tightens and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and clean linens. It’s comforting, the smell, his breath on my hair, and I cling to him and the steady beat of his heart.

  “I keep hearing the sound of her head hitting the ground,” I whisper.

  The light stroke of his hand sends shivers through me. I meet his eyes, flooded with strength. Empathy. I remember his scars. Who held him after his screams? Soothed away his agony?

  “She’s going to be all right. I’ve seen a lot of injuries, and this one isn’t as bad as it looks.”

  I bite my lip, aware of every inch of him. The rhythm of his pulse increasing at nearly the same rate as mine. Our stare surges a charge we both acknowledge, and his palms tighten behind my back. Mine grasp his waist, longing to slide along the outlines I’ve only fantasized about up until now. One rebellious hand slips away to track his jaw, rough and warm. It wants the rest and spreads to his cheek. My blood sears, eyes searching his. Hot agony of need as he lowers his head. His lips are so real, so attainable, so necessary...

  He curses and steps back. “Andie, no. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Kaleb. I…”

  He moves farther away, pain infecting his face. “No, it’s not. I just crossed so many lines I can’t even count them. You have every right to report me. I’ll request an immediate transfer for you.”

  He turns to leave, but I grab his arm, refusing to let him take the blame for something that didn’t even happen. Something I desperately wanted.

  “Don’t. You were just trying to comfort me.”

  “Listen—”

  “You saved my friend. You were helping a grieving resident.”

  He flinches, and I don’t know if I’m winning or losing.

  “Don’t separate us. It won’t happen again.” Damn, I want it to happen again, need it to happen again. I’m going to make it happen again, but now is the time for lies.

  He looks away, and his Flaw is my Perfection because I want nothing more than to finish what we started.

  Maybe he does too.

  Sergeant Dennel’s voice cuts off Kaleb’s response with a demand for a report through his radio.

  “You should go back to your room,” Kaleb directs to me without emotion. “I’ll call you when we have an update.”

  I swallow my reply and follow the orders of Building Supervisor Lance Corporal Novelli. My superior. The most frustratingly noble man on this planet. He’s locked in an animated conversation with his CO as I retreat and wonder how much paperwork will follow this one.

  My two other roommates take the injury worse t
han I do. I return to our room to find them rigid on the couch, staring at the wall.

  “She’s going to be okay,” I assure the anxious stares that shift to me when I enter. Ironic that I’ve assumed Kaleb’s role as authority and comforter, minutes after he had to reconstruct me from a blubbering mess.

  “There was so much blood!” one cries. “I thought for sure she was dead.”

  “She’s not dead.”

  “But, she could—”

  “She’s not dead,” I repeat.

  “What was she saying to you and Lance Corporal Novelli?” the other asks.

  “Kaleb was trying to keep her awake. She was talking about playing basketball as a kid.”

  “I can’t believe this happened. I hope they let us see her soon.”

  “I’m sure they will when they’re ready. They have to check her out and fix her up. Then there’s a bunch of paperwork Kaleb has to file.”

  “Paperwork?”

  I sigh. “Yes, it’s what I do every day when I go to his office. Anyway, the point is that we shouldn’t worry about Vi just because it takes some time. The process is complicated. Kaleb will let us in as soon as he can.” I don’t like the shift in their attention. “What?”

  My roommates’ sudden smiles are even more disconcerting. “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. What is it?” I repeat at the conspiratorial glance they exchange.

  “It’s just the way you say Kaleb. How familiar it is to you.”

  “I work with him every day. Of course I’m familiar with him.”

  “Okay.” But she concedes nothing.

  I yank my towel from the hook on my door. “I’m taking a shower. I have blood all over me.”

  I do.

  Kaleb keeps his promise and calls just before lights-out. I answer the room com but can’t tell if he’s pleased or disappointed at my involvement. His voice is firm, formal like those first couple of weeks when he fought our friendship. It hurts, his return to soldier-supervisor, but I understand as he recites the facts of his update.

  Fact: Vi is going to be okay but needs surgery and more tests.