by Katy Jordan
He closed his eyes as the alcohol nipped his throat, giving him the kick that he had been hoping for.
“She too was suffering from the same turmoil that you are right now. Do you remember what that was regarding?”
“She shot Jack by accident.”
“By accident? So, you don’t think that she was responsible?”
“No, of course I don’t!” Flare defended. “Are you insinuating that I do?”
“I’m not saying one way or the other, Flare. But, by reacting to Bullet’s condition the way you did, I can only assume you believe Jack’s gunshot wound was Bullet’s fault.”
“That’s completely different!”
“Is it? Please elaborate for this silly old man. Explain to me how it is different,” The Spectrum nudged her gently.
“We could have had a successful mission without me setting that fire.”
“Bullet could have had a successful mission without having to fire her weapon.”
“On purpose, I sat in wait, looking for my cue.”
“Bullet took aim, waiting to see if her skills were needed, also on purpose.”
“I deliberately set the warehouse on fire.”
“Bullet deliberately pulled the trigger.”
The Spectrum pointed to her glass, ushering her to take a drink.
She needed one.
It had been one of the longest and toughest nights that they had endured in a very long time. If not the toughest.
“You see now how both events, although different methods were used, had the same kind of outcome?”
Flare nodded, her eyes welling up as she took a large gulp from her whiskey glass.
“So, I’m going to say this one last thing, and then that’ll be the end of this train journey your mind has gotten itself on,” The Spectrum announced. “I said this to Bullet as well, so take heed like she did, alright? Feeling responsible for something and being to blame for something are two completely different things. If you’re responsible, you played an important role in the said situation, but you didn’t purposely attempt to cause harm. However, if you are to blame, you did do it on purpose, with malicious intent, and premeditated actions. You may be responsible, Flare. But, you are not to blame.”
Flare’s reaction was very much like Bullet’s; she burst into tears like she was needing someone to confirm that it wasn’t her fault that her best friend was at death’s door.
“Go. Try and sleep.”
“I want to be near her.”
“Then sleep in the infirmary tonight. But, either way, sleep. That’s an order. Rest yourself while knowing that this was not, in any way, your fault,” She forced out a smile at him, as unconvincing as it was, and left him alone in his office with only his whiskey for company.
He heard her footsteps die down as she travelled along the corridor, while he poured himself another glass.
“It was mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Everyone was sound asleep in the infirmary. Nobody was prepared to retire to their own quarters in case there was news of Bullet’s recovery. The only one who couldn’t close her eyes, who couldn’t let her body rest no matter what she tried, was the Fuschia Flare.
The Spectrum’s words echoed in her mind. She could see his point; that even though the situation was different between Bullet’s mishap and hers, a lot of the factors were very much the same.
The main one being that both of them were not deliberate. Unintentional. An accident.
But, Flare still couldn’t get out of her head that Bullet fired her gun just as Jack moved to help Gecko, whereas she set the fire knowing full well that Bullet was still inside.
She didn’t set the fire with the assumption that Bullet wasn’t in there.
Flare knew she was. Yet, she lit the fuel and watched it ignite like a furnace.
Bullet was meant to run out. Flare knew she had the know-how to navigate her way through the beginnings of a fire; she taught her everything she needed to know.
But, instead, she stayed inside. Knowing that there was a fire engulfing the entire building, she didn’t come away from the door so as to make sure Neon didn’t get out either.
Sparrow was right though; they really do need to get proof of death before they start making assumptions about anything. He was dead though, there were no two ways about it.
Nobody was getting out of there alive without help.
Did he have help?
No! Of course, he didn’t. He was down there alone with Jack, Gecko got him out, and Bullet trapped Neon in. The remaining guards scattered as soon as the fire broke out.
He’s toast.
But, Flare couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong. Neon was always prepared and one step ahead; everyone knew that. Everyone worried about that.
And they all hated it about him the most.
It would be the most frustrating and soul destroying thing in the world if he was alive after everything Bullet did to make sure he wasn’t an issue anymore.
Flare looked at the sun burning high in the sky as the afternoon arrived to greet the sleepy organisation. Lab appeared out of the back room and checked on Jack. She noticed Flare in a daze, staring outside with her mind racing about everything.
“Honey, have you slept?” she whispered to her, making sure she didn’t wake anyone else.
Flare jolted with fright at her voice, shaking her head as an answer to her question.
Lab finished fiddling with Jack’s monitors and walked over to her bed, propping herself down on the bottom of it.
“Staying awake for days on end isn’t going to make Bullet better any faster. She’s got a lot going on, it’s going to take time, sweetheart.”
“I wish I could sleep, Lab, but, I just can’t. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is her lying there, bleeding out, being swallowed up by the smoke from the fire that I set.”
“Didn’t The Spectrum put your mind to rest about this? Flare, this isn’t your fault. Nobody blames you for this, darling. Nobody, apart from you.”
“Have her test results shown you anything?” Flare probed, ignoring Lab’s attempts at consoling her.
“Do you want me to sugarcoat it or should I just say it like it is?” Lab checked.
“Just rip off the band-aid,” Flare instructed, positioning herself on the bed and taking a breath, getting her wits about her to hear the news.
“She has mild carbon monoxide poisoning from the fumes. Her lungs are weak but saveable; the thermal damage wasn’t as bad as I thought since she was away from the flames, it was mainly the smoke that caused the most damage. What didn’t help was the blood loss from the knife wound to the back of her thigh; it was quite extensive, but I used the blood I have in stock to replace what was lost. She’s got a fight ahead of her, but… she’s a tough one. I’m really hopeful.”
“That’s… she’s lucky to be alive, Lab.”
“Exactly,” Lab agreed. “Flare, she’s alive because you fought to get her out. She’s alive because Tide managed to put out the fire. She’s alive because Rocket got her back here in jig time. You saved her life. You all did. Rocket was torturing himself too; he was blaming himself because he should’ve driven faster. As was Tide; she was blaming herself for not putting the fire out quick enough. You all rescued her.”
“So, I should forgive myself for almost killing her because I helped to save her?”
“If you can do that then, yes,” Lab said. “But, I know full well it’s not that simple.”
“No, it’s not,” Flare confirmed. “All I keep thinking is I should’ve waited until I saw Bullet before I lit the place up.”
“Yeah, and Neon might have been right at her back and he could have gotten away as well,” Lab retorted. “Look, none of us are oracles. We don’t have a crystal ball, and hindsight is most definitely a bitch at the best of times. There is no way you can go back and change what happened. But, you can rest assured that when you first thought you had done the wrong
thing, you did everything you could to make it right and to redeem yourself.”
“I know… I get what you mean. I just don’t want her to die.”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen, darling. But, nobody can forgive you for this.”
Flare looked up, doleful at Lab’s words.
“You can’t forgive someone when there’s nothing to forgive,” Lab assured her. “Nobody blames you for this, just like nobody blamed Bullet for Jack getting shot.”
“Yeah, that’s what The Spectrum said.”
“Well, listen to him. Because he’s right,” Lab said, nudging her playfully in an attempt to cheer her up.
Lab cautiously looked around. The gang were still fast asleep, emotionally and mentally exhausted from the series of events of the last couple of days. Those last couple of days that no one had slept through, minus one or two catching a couple of hours randomly.
“Do you want to come through and see her?” Lab asked.
“Is that allowed?” Flare asked, shuffling around on the bed preparing to get up.
“You’ll have to wear a face mask and an apron to prevent the spread of germs in both directions, and use disinfectant mousse on your hands before you go in. But, yes. It’s allowed.”
Lab’s hand brushed gently on the back of Flare’s shoulder as she guided her round to the back room. She put on her rubber gloves before bursting an apron out of a packet, while Flare covered her hands in disinfectant before putting on the apron that Lab was holding out for her. She adjusted the facemask over her mouth and nose, positioning the straps behind her ears as Lab opened the door.
Flare couldn’t even begin to count the number of wires and tubes that were attached to Bullet’s completely still body.
If you took all of it away, she would look like she was simply sleeping, just like everyone else was as they waited for more news about her physical state.
A strange box covered her head with a single tube extending from it and attaching on to a machine by Bullet’s bedside. Numbers fluctuated back and forth on the device’s screen. Flare had no idea what it was but it couldn’t be good.
“What is that?”
“It’s an oxygen box. Inside it the air pressure is a little higher than normal so that the carbon monoxide is removed quicker from her bloodstream and replaced with oxygen. That’s the one I’m trying to fight off first, because, as much as it’s mild, if I ignore it for too long it could easily deteriorate and kill her.”
“Oh, my God…” Flare breathed as she tiptoed over to the bed.
Bullet’s hair was puffy and frizzy as it spread out around her head in the confinements of the clear box that had been carefully placed around her from the neck up.
Her skin was still stained black with soot from the smoke.
One leg was on top of the covers, showing a mass amount of bandaging around Bullet’s rather muscular thigh, while the other remained under the covers. Flare noticed a bag in the corner which contained Bullet’s clothes that had been cut off, Lab following her line of sight.
“I can only imagine the grilling I’m going to get when she learns that I cut through her leather.”
Flare smiled at her comment.
Slowly and gently, Flare wriggled her fingers under Bullet’s, giving them a loving squeeze while a tear managed to escape down her cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” Flare whispered softly. “Please wake up. Fight whatever demons you have to, but just wake up.”
Lab’s expression was filled with nothing but sympathy and love as she watched Flare have her moment with Bullet. Her two girls, with the friendship they had that was much like a sisterhood, was her pride and joy, one that she felt blessed to witness every day. For her to watch this was a lot harder than she was prepared to let on.
“Will she make it?” Flare asked Lab blatantly.
“I honestly can’t answer that, darling. I’m doing everything I can for her. Much like I’m doing everything I can for Jack. The pair of them need to just keep hanging on to have the best chance. That part is down to them entirely,” she said, adjusting the bandage lining on Bullet’s leg before walking around to Flare.
“I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Just don’t touch anything, okay?”
“No, I won’t. Thank you, Lab,” Flare said, flinging her arms around Lab’s neck and holding her tightly.
Lab didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Flare in return, kissing the side of her head comfortingly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Lab said, letting her go and rubbing her eyes.
“Have you slept?” Flare enquired.
Lab merely chuckled.
“No… I haven’t had time. But, I will. When she’s clear of carbon monoxide, then I’ll sleep.”
Lab left, shutting the door quietly behind her.
The room was rather spacious, but when everything was piled into it – the bed, the machines, the utensils – it made it seem rather cramped. A chair hid behind the door, and Flare pulled it forward towards the bed.
She thumped down into it, taking Bullet’s hand again.
It really did look like she was just sleeping.
If only that was the truth.
Bullet had always put herself in harm’s way to protect everyone, but she had done it numerous times for Flare alone.
“Bullet… I don’t know if you can hear me. Even if you can, I feel like an idiot for even trying this. Please wake up. Please live. I’m so sorry I let you stay in there when I ignited the fire. I was following orders, I was sticking to the plan, I was… I was hoping you’d come running out and we could leave together. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Now, I get how you felt when Jack got shot. You pulled the trigger, so it was your fault. I used the flame thrower, so this is mine,” Flare rambled in low tones, fiddling with Bullet’s still fingers between her own.
Her hand was cold in Flare’s warm grasp. She wondered if the rest of her was just as cold.
She wondered what it was like… Was it like a dream? Was it nothing but darkness?
Flare recalled her little rant she just had and considered the possibility… could Bullet even hear anything? Where was she? What was it like? Was she in pain?
The list went on and on.
Flare would have given anything to swap places with Bullet.
To save her.
That plus, Bullet was very forward thinking. If she was okay, and Flare was back in hospital, shit would get done. There would be a proof of death on Neon.
The drug scam would be getting investigated.
There it was.
Flare knew what she had to do.
She had to stop moping around. Keep busy. Be productive.
Put everything to rest, once and for all.
That way, if the day came that Bullet woke up.
Or when the day came for Bullet to wake up, there would be no stress.
Everything would be dealt with.
If that wasn’t making amends… if that wasn’t a true gesture of apology, Flare didn’t know what was.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bullet walked through the corridors of Colour Coded HQ.
The place was quieter than it had ever been. Nobody seemed to be around. There was no furniture, no curtains, no tables in the hallways, or beds in the infirmary.
Nothing.
Her heels echoed as they always did, except this time, they echoed further. Louder.
“Hello?” she called out, listening to her voice carry in every direction around her.
She climbed the spiral staircase and went into what she knew as her room.
The black tiles were there, the walls were still black with the white skirting creating that familiar border between them and the floor.
But, like everywhere else, that’s all there was.
No bed. No units. Not even her mirror on the wall.
Nothing.
Bullet headed back down the spiral staircase and went straight down to th
e first floor.
She pondered over what The Spectrum’s office looked like as she made her way there. Even if nobody else was here, and nothing else was here, there was no way that he would leave the building.
When she entered the room, dread filled her when she witnessed that it was exactly the same as the rest of HQ.
There were no logs in the fireplace. No fish in the aquarium. No sofas, not even the rug.
The curtains were all gone, along with The Spectrum’s desk and chair on the small, marble podium at the back where he would always be upon most arrivals.
The Spectrum, too, was nowhere to be seen.
This wasn’t right.
She couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.
Bullet couldn’t remember anything as much as she tried to. She blacked out in Neon’s bunker after the fire started and then woke up lying on the floor of the infirmary.
Anything in between those two moments was a complete blank.
She sauntered back along the corridor, beginning to panic a little.
Was Colour Coded still active? Had everyone left? If they had, why did they just leave her lying on the purple tiled floor of the hospital wing? Did they perish in the fire and she somehow made it back?
What the hell was going on?
She wandered back along towards the spiral staircase and went out to the balcony, the place she always went when she needed to think.
Jack’s back faced her as he leaned on the railing, looking out through the glass front of the building at the view.
“Jack?”
He spun around, surprised at the sound of anyone’s voice, let alone hers.
“Bullet? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Where is here?”
“Well, it’s Colour Coded headquarters… but, I think we’re on another plane or something.”
“Another plane? Like the Astral plane?”
“More like the Akashic plane,” Jack said firmly.
“The what plane?”
“Akashic plan. It connects all the different planes in existence. The Astral plane is where we go after our lifetime is finished… apparently.”