Traitor

by Alyson Santos

  I shake my head. More tears. “The bars, and cameras, and chains…” I press my palms to my eyes, and almost rejoice at the comforting force he applies to my shoulder. “I lost it. I just wanted to see him smile. He always loved to make fun of me and how bad I am. You’ve seen his smile. You know.”

  I release my broken heart for the world to see.

  He buys it, all of it, but my victory feels small. I’m a great actress when I’m not acting.

  “Andie, I’m sorry for this. I take personal responsibility for what happened. We shouldn’t have thrown you in there. We should have prepared you more. Captain Emery insisted on this meeting today, but I could have eased you into it better.”

  I clear my eyes. “Who’s Captain Emery?”

  “She’s the head of the task force assigned to Kaleb’s case. You’ll meet her soon.”

  I hope so and file that name away. “I just don’t understand what you want from me. What was I supposed to do when I saw him?”

  “We want you to help him. We want you two to talk about how he’s doing. What’s going through his head, anything he can remember about his time with the rebels. You know, things like that.”

  I find the ceiling as though deep in thought. No, I am deep in thought. A path opens in my brain, complete with spotlights and flashing signs. If I can just…

  “I want that too, but we can’t talk the same way we did before. It’s awkward now. So uncomfortable with the guards and cameras and all that. There’s no way he’s going to open up to me. Not about anything real, anyway. Who would?”

  My argument has an effect.

  “I understand.”

  “Kaleb and I became so close because we were comfortable with each other.”

  “I imagine it’s difficult to get comfortable in that environment.” Another pause. “Let me talk to some people and think this through.”

  I block out the image of Kaleb’s battered face in a holding cell in order to appreciate the sheen of my second victory.

  “I really do want to help him, Staff Sergeant Henry.” My eerie stream of non-lies continues. “I hate seeing him like that. I just don’t understand why this is happening. I tried to convince him to talk to you like you asked, and now he’s a prisoner. How long will he have to stay locked up?”

  Henry sighs. “It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this, but he will remain in custody until we’re certain he’s not a threat.”

  “A threat to whom?”

  “All of us. Look, I know you care about him, but you have to leave the logistics to us. All you need to worry about right now is supporting your friend.”

  “What happened to his face?” I think I do a good job of disguising my anger as naïve-girlfriend concern.

  He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there, but according to the report, Lance Corporal Novelli engaged in a confrontation with other inmates. These types of facilities can be a dangerous place,” he adds because I’m still an idiot who does dance routines for her boyfriend on death row.

  I swallow my fury at the lie. Worst part, I’m not convinced he knows it is one.

  “That doesn’t sound like Kaleb.”

  “Sometimes these things can’t be helped. He’s a good kid. I’m sure he didn’t start it.”

  I block the rage, the nausea, and determine to wrap this up before I ruin everything.

  “Well, I’m afraid for him.” I force a tight smile as he leads me toward the exit.

  “I know. We’ll be in touch soon.” He hands me off to Sergeant Dennel who’s back and waiting in the hallway.

  “Take her home. Then call in the team. We have work to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dennel says and motions for me to follow.

  Dennel parks in front of 9B, his hard face unreadable in the glare of the afternoon sun. I squint past him to watch a crew of refugees repairing a portion of the path snaking toward Building 7. I’m glad they’re finally restoring the imperfections. I almost tripped on the gaps and cracked stones during one of my walks with Kaleb. Sweat leaks down the temples of the soldier-foreman in charge as he unloads a pallet of stone for his crew.

  “You should get to your assignment. They’ll be expecting you,” Dennel says.

  The soldier straightens and takes a tool from one of the residents. The others stop as well and watch as he demonstrates some action involving the way it pierces the ground. He hands it back to the resident.

  “What did Henry mean when he told you to ‘call in the team?’”

  His eyes brush mine before focusing on the grounds crew theater. “I’m not sure. It could mean several things. The team he’s referring to is the task force.”

  “You’re on it?”

  “Yes. Although as Kaleb’s direct supervisor and known supporter, my involvement and clearance is limited.”

  I brace against my next question. I know the answer will split me open. “Would they ever have you participate in his interrogations?”

  I feel his attention, but I can’t look. I just need the facts.

  “Yes.”

  My nails latch onto the door handle. “Have you already?”

  “Andie, this information won’t help you.”

  “Were you involved in his interrogation?” I repeat.

  He sighs. “I was an observer in this morning’s session, yes. Along with several other members of the task force.”

  “An observer,” I growl. Such a copout. A witness at best, a coward at worst, but not an “observer.” There’s no such thing in this war.

  “Andie…”

  I shake my head, finished with this conversation, and go for the door. His grip on my arm forces me around.

  “I never said this was going to be easy,” he says. “In fact it’s going to be damn near impossible if we’re honest. We will have to make difficult decisions, and yes, sometimes that means doing nothing when we want to do everything.”

  “Like when you ‘observe’ them beating the shit out of your friend?”

  He returns a sharp look. “What would you have had me do?”

  I don’t know, anything. Anything except stand and “observe.”

  “Was Henry there?”

  “No. He’s not on the task force. He’s just interested in the case because he’s always liked Kaleb. They let him be involved to a certain degree because of his rank.”

  “What about the time Kaleb disappeared for five days? Was that part of this too?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Why? I know everything else.”

  “No you don’t.”

  Of course I don’t. I’m still thinking like the naïve girlfriend, not the strategist I need to be. But reason does nothing to make me feel better. Reason forces you to be quiet when you want to scream, crawl when you want to sprint. Reason demands absolute patience, and I have absolutely none right now.

  Still, if we have any hope of winning this battle, I’m going to have to bury my compassion and rely on reason. Like Dennel. Like Vi. Time for facts.

  What could Dennel have done? It’s a fair question. Any direct interference would have revealed his alliance. He could have distracted them to end the interrogation. Fake heart attack, fainting spell, but you only get to play that card once. What were his options this morning as they tickled their prisoner with a few blows to the head?

  None.

  Observe.

  “What happens now?” I manage to remove the anger from my voice. We both know it wasn’t for Dennel anyway.

  He studies me, and I sense he’s judging whether he has coherent or blubbering Andie in his passenger seat.

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I know you did what had to be done. But after seeing him like that, it’s hard to think straight.”

  Dennel’s shoulders relax, his stiff soldier scowl melting into an exhale. “I know it is.”
We exchange a look. “What happens now is that I go back to my task force to find out.”

  “Promise you’ll fill me in as soon as you know anything?”

  “I will. I’m also having you reassigned to my office. It will be a lot easier to work through this without sneaking around. I’m assuming you won’t be too disappointed about losing your position in laundry.”

  A smile cracks through my gloom. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  “Good. Although I hear you and your roommate were just starting to click. She’s quite the ukulele player, is she?”

  I cringe. “You were listening in on my meeting with Kaleb?”

  “We all were. Nice dance moves, by the way.”

  “How else was I supposed to let him know we’re working on this? It’s not like I could say anything important out in the open.”

  “I’m not judging. You did what you had to do. Talk about a distraction, though.”

  I grunt, and he lets me go with a snicker this time.

  Kaleb is a permanent fixture in my head. His eyes, his infectious laugh, lazy lunch breaks in the sunshine. But it comes with shadows now. Apparitions of scars and fresh bruises, heavy chains and speculation about interrogation techniques. The state of my stomach rests somewhere between uncomfortable flutter and acidic eruption as I go through the motions of my schedule, expending most of my energy hiding from everyone—except Vi.

  Her concern is justified, and I’m grateful she doesn’t insult me with platitudes about how everything is going to be okay. There’s no calling my soulmate’s death sentence a “setback” or “challenge.” It fucking sucks. A full-blown horror story, and sometimes when we’re alone in our room we sit in silence and go to that place where reality crushes hope. She’s patient as my tears attempt to cleanse the shadows from my mind.

  It’s a customized, small-profile hybrid between a traditional table vise and vise grip pliers.

  The idea was to create a super-weapon for interrogation that would maximize the pain and damage of torture with minimal time and effort.

  Razor wire restricts your will to struggle against whatever else they’re doing to you.

  Razor-wire. Glaxon Ionizer. ZB-783 Vise. The Kalik Closer. I shudder through the parade in my head. Even worse is the memory of Kaleb’s expression as he relived the trauma. Would his own people resort to the same? There has to be some order, some decency that separates enemy from ally. But Kaleb isn’t an ally right now. They don’t know what he his and think he’s worse than an enemy, a liar. A traitor.

  “They’re going to kill him, Vi. I have this horrible feeling.”

  Her arm slips around my shoulders. “We don’t know that. And besides, even if he’s found guilty and sentenced to execution, I’m sure it will take time to get to that point. We’ll get him out by then.”

  “How? You didn’t see that place. It’s a fortress and they have him all chained up.” I scrub at the constant leak from my eyes.

  “I know. It won’t be by brute force, but we’ll figure something out. We just have to do it the smart way.”

  There’s no good side or bad side. They’re both the same.

  Kaleb’s words keep hounding me, becoming clearer with each piece of the puzzle. I hadn’t understood then, but I see it plain as day now. It doesn’t matter who holds the keys to his cell; he’s facing the same fate. Circumstance makes us enemies and friends.

  Vi pulls back when I stiffen.

  “What is it?”

  “The real traitor,” I say.

  “Huh?”

  “Kaleb’s being held as a traitor because there’s a real one. That person is probably still here and might even be on the task force that’s holding him.”

  She curses. “Then someone has plenty of incentive to make him look guilty.”

  “Or make him disappear.”

  We exchange a glance.

  “I need to get to him again. Alone this time.”

  I tell Dennel, who passes along to the task force, that I remember Kaleb mentioning a military seal during his time in captivity. I’m not surprised this is new information for them since I made it up.

  It’s a risk. They could decide to bypass my involvement and go straight to the source. I may have triggered another interrogation, but I have to get back on their radar. Days of breakfast, lunch, and filing have done nothing. So with Vi’s approval, I played the odds, betting that they’ll take the more humane route to their information through me. And here I am, fully present.

  Dennel escorts me to the prison two days after my announcement.

  “Same as last time?” I ask, not thrilled at the prospect of navigating the awkward peepshow again.

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say. I’m supposed to report at 0900 with you.”

  It’s not ideal, but pursuing those few seconds in Kaleb’s presence has become my entire existence.

  Instead of leading me to the visitation room, however, the guards dump me in what resembles a lounge. Couches, a coffee machine, café tables, even a screen in the corner broadcasting the same compound propaganda as the one in my apartment. All the amenities designed for comfort work against relaxation now that they’re out of place.

  My long wait gives my brain plenty of opportunities to second-guess itself. I’ve come more prepared this time, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still a minnow determined to take down an oil tanker. Vi and I have been talking late into the night, strategizing and doing our best to sort through the little we know and the more we don’t. Her mind works angles mine doesn’t, which gives me hope that we have a chance. I came with an actual plan today, but my surroundings have already thrown off my confidence. By the time they lead Kaleb into the lounge I’ve almost abandoned the mission altogether.

  Kaleb seems to have the same reaction when they leave us alone without an explanation. The door snaps shut behind him and he pulls against the lock. Giving up, his gaze brushes mine before turning back to the door as though he expects the guards to return. I brave a look and see no evidence of new injuries on his face. He doesn’t seem as tired either.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, inspecting the room like I had done. They left the restraints on his wrists, but he’s mobile this time.

  “It’s better than the other room.” He doesn’t seem so sure as he moves from object to object.

  I watch him explore his freedom in silence, guilty when my body reacts to the way his flexes and moves with restrained power. My mind returns to kisses, the blister of warm skin. Hard muscle straining against my curves. Those brilliant eyes dark with passion, searing into me as they speak of ravenous hunger. I hate the sudden cravings stealing my will while he fights for survival. It’s wrong, selfish—so inextricably me.

  I clear my throat. “I made some drawings.” I pull a stack of pages from my pocket and hold them out to him. “I remembered how you said you liked palm trees.”

  His eyes train on me, burning through my façade, and mine speak right back. I need him to read my mind.

  “I’m surprised you remembered.” His expression remains neutral as he pages through the sketches and stops at the one with small words etched into the leaves.

  “Let’s see if they’re monitoring us. Tell me you saw a seal when you were captured and we’ll see what they do.”

  “They look more like strawberries than palm trees,” he says, squinting at the paper.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Even his forced grin chips at my strength.

  “No, they’re great. Thank you.”

  He returns the pile, and I muster a hurt look. “They’re that bad? You don’t want them?”

  He sighs. “Of course I do. It means a lot, but they won’t let me take anything back to my cell. Hang onto them for me?”

  I stuff the pages in my pocket.

  “Kaleb, I have to tell yo
u something.”

  I grab his hands and flinch. I’d come to rule the game… and now? I grip tighter. What if I can’t let go again? He’s too close not to seize, our time together too scarce.

  So no more acting, just the desperate kiss that’s been in my head for days. Crushing him, suppressing his startled reaction. Another mistake I don’t regret as the longing magnifies the pain that this could be the last moment my senses experience him. The last time I lose myself in the man who has my heart but can’t claim it.

  “Kaleb…” I push him down to a cushion and slide over him. My fingers thread through his hair, grasp his neck so I can absorb every part of his lips, his tongue. I want it all in that second. Too much when I challenge his body against his conscience.

  “What are you doing?” He gasps, expression somewhere between pain and longing. I’m hurting him with these promises he can’t keep, these reminders of what he’s being denied, but I can’t stop. He’s the air that’s been sucked from my lungs and I’m selfish as I breathe him back in.

  His body surrenders to the pressure of my touch, and I steal every nerve, every muscle that tenses at my attack.

  “Wait…”

  “One more time,” I breathe. “Just once—”

  “Fuck, Andie,” he mutters when the restraints interfere with his own demands. It kills me that his hands aren’t free to take everything I want to give him. Oh god, his pain that he can’t satisfy me. But he has. Over and over again, my light in this darkness, about to be snuffed out by a machine that has no concept of beauty.

  I trace his cheek, his unshaven jaw. Haunted green eyes carve into me and settle as a memory that will torture me later. “I can’t lose you, Kaleb.” The tears were not part of the strategy, the begging. But there is no plan anymore, just Kaleb and me in a desperate bond that will be shattered because reality is stronger than love.

  “Andie, stop. Just…”

  I’m killing him with my sobs.

  “Why can’t they see what you are? I need to make them see!”

  He shakes his head. “You have to stop taking responsibility for things you can’t change. It will destroy you.” He leans back and cups my face. “This is not your fault. None of this.”