Hindsight

by Jody Klaire

  “What is—?” Megan looked her up and down. “Oh.”

  Frei cried harder. Silent tears. Stupid tears.

  Huber let her go. “Stay where you are.” A sharp order.

  Frei nodded, tears dripped off her nose as she stared down at her shoes.

  “I’ve never raised my hand to you.” Huber’s tone was cold, cutting. She glanced up, expecting him to be talking to her but he was looking at Megan. “If you or anyone else lay a finger on her again, expect it.”

  Megan let out a shocked murmur.

  Frei slammed shut her eyes. She waited for the sound, the yelp, the whimper but nothing came.

  “Get out of my sight,” he snapped.

  Frei turned to leave.

  He caught her by the scruff. “Not you.”

  She looked up, confused. Megan’s eyes filled with something cold, so cold that Frei hid behind Huber before she could stop herself. Megan turned on her heel and stormed out.

  Frei rubbed at her tears, angry.

  “I’m going to reason with you, girl,” Huber said in a gentle tone. Not gentle enough to be confused with caring, no, just polite. “I have watched you use those skills of yours. I have seen how you’ve done on trips.” He led her, his hand on her shoulder, toward the desk. “I’m going to have you put in a special group at the academy. I want you to be better than every student there.”

  Frei didn’t think that would work. She was small, wiry, she wasn’t good at the violin like her sister or beautiful like Suz. She was just . . . normal. Just another slave.

  “If you do this, you stop helping Suz to break free, I will bring you and your sister home every time I need you to do some work for me.”

  She looked up, her frown pulling at the bruise on her head.

  Huber met her gaze. “Which will conveniently be when buyers are visiting.”

  Frei’s heart pounded. Slaves went missing when buyers arrived. Suz, and her sister, none of the others realized that they were just slaves.

  Frei knew, she’d always known. She touched her finger to her ear, the metal had stung and burned for a long time. She couldn’t stop scratching at it.

  The other kids thought it was a special school, that they were orphans.

  Frei touched the necklace around her neck, her cross and her ring hung there.

  “You understand. The others don’t. You can protect Suz, protect your sister. Do you want that?” He stared down at her.

  Her stomach knotted. She wanted to take care of them.

  She nodded.

  “Good. Those skills Suz has you using. You’re going to be the best at them. The better you are, the more often I may need you . . .”

  Frei bit her lip. Was he offering to take care of Suz too? She glanced at the doorway. If they were here, they’d be near Megan more. Was that safer?

  “She won’t touch you again, girl,” Huber said like he knew, like he understood.

  Frei met his eyes and summoned up the courage to open her mouth. “Deal.”

  Chapter 8

  THE FLOOR IN my bedroom was hardwood. It had this deep reddy-brown tint. The folks who’d spruced up the place for me had shined it up and it always made me think of the hard work my neighbors had put in for me.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on the solid smoothness under my feet. The coolness warmed with my body heat, making rings around where I stood. Firm ridges of joins under my scrunched toes. I tried to relax, tried to calm the tension.

  Outside, the river swirled on past. The forest led up to the majestic peak of Blackbear beyond. I swallowed back memories: nightmares from Sam up there; the roaring terror of the twister that had raged, of Renee unconscious on the floor.

  I wanted to bury them. To let them go.

  My parents and sisters filled Nan’s cabin now. There was no scary predator lurking any more. It was a family home. I hadn’t forgotten the lonely derelict shell I’d found. I hadn’t forgotten the cold, the hurt, or camping on the first floor. I hadn’t forgotten my dad throwing camping supplies at me and screeching off.

  Nan’s letters had been my only friend then. I glanced up at Yasmin’s shoes on the wall. Sure, I’d had friends in Serenity. Friends I still thought and cared about. Back here, back in a place that should’ve been home, I’d been on my own. The memory of that time felt so heavy on my shoulders.

  When I’d been in St. Jude’s, in Caprock, even at the CIG base, I’d been removed from thinking about it. There’d been too much to do. Being here had just brought me face to face with a lot of things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Years being under the scrutiny of shrinks sounded alarm bells that blocking it away wasn’t any good for me . . . but I would.

  There was no point thinking too hard, I had Frei to help. Something else to focus on other than the carnage that lay behind me.

  “Whenever I go home, I’m reminded of how much life has gone on without me.” Renee was in the doorway. I’d felt her coming but I just didn’t have the energy to turn around. “The ghost of the little girl I was still lives there . . . but I don’t anymore.”

  I stared up at Yasmin’s heels. Sparkly, fancy.

  “My mother has other children with her husband. I’m . . . I feel like—”

  “A stranger.”

  Renee moved to sit on the bed in my line of sight. The dim light from the bedside lamp glowed against her cheek. “It’s part of the job. It’s probably one of the hardest parts. You can’t get too close. Can’t stay too long.”

  It made sense. I was sad that it did. “Sharing just makes everything harder.”

  She nodded and I turned to stare out of the window.

  “Sharing also reminds me how little anyone knows me, or wants to, and . . .” Renee sighed. “Just how lonely it feels.”

  “You deal with it better than me.” The trees sang of home. The river’s flow tried to fill me with its familiar calm but my heart wriggled.

  “Aeron, I don’t deal with anything well if you haven’t realized.” Renee slumped back, staring up at the ceiling. “I sometimes wonder what you must think of me.”

  “Simple. You’re a hero.” Anyone who’d spent so long living this way and still cared had to be.

  “Other than in a CIG sense.”

  “You’re a hero in every sense to me.”

  She turned her head toward me. “How can I be?” She leaned up on her elbow, her eyes growing more intense as she spoke. “So far I’ve done nothing but block you out, push you away, and keep things from you.”

  The stars twinkled in the sky. Neither of us seemed able to sleep. It was just waiting. Waiting until we could move. Until we could get on with what we knew how to do.

  “You never asked to be stuck with me trailing along behind you.” Her lack of openness had reached the point where I just expected it. “Your thoughts, your life, they’re your own.”

  Renee furrowed her brow. The blonde of her eyebrows caught the dim light and accentuated the gray eyes beneath. “That sounds like you don’t want to know anymore.”

  What she wanted from me, I didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t either. “It’s your choice if you tell me somethin’ or let me in. I told you I cared and I wanted to know but I ain’t askin’ no more.”

  She smiled. “Well done.”

  I didn’t get how it deserved her comment so I shrugged.

  “You’re feeling stronger, more confident. That’s a good thing.” She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. “Regardless of the ‘I’ve had enough of being messed about’ declaration to me.”

  “That ain’t . . .” What was the use? It was what I’d meant. I was tired of wandering around in circles and not knowing how I’d ended up back on the outside. “You’ll either tell me or you won’t.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t talk about Abby because it hurt to. For once, it had no other issue behind it other than I got my heart broken.”

  I didn’t much like the sound of it. I sat on the old rocking chair next to the window not knowing what to say.

&n
bsp; “After Yannick. There wasn’t much of me to salvage. He was a real threat. He was always a danger. I couldn’t risk it and . . . well . . . you met what was left.” Renee’s voice was quiet, controlled, careful. “It’s taken me this long to find a way to . . . to . . .” She bit her lip. “To be present.”

  The truth glimmered from her lips but it didn’t make me feel better, it just hurt that she’d suffered so badly.

  “When I came back, it was best for everyone she never saw what happened. She was better off without me anyway.”

  “Why?” I whispered. I could hear the hurt in my own voice. Hurt for her, hurt that some people were so mean.

  “I told her less than I tell you.” She chuckled but it was half-hearted. “Five years together. Visits home for the holidays. Her parents, my mother, plans for family.” She leaned on her fist. “You know, she bought me perfume every year. It was the stuff I wore when I met her. I hated it.”

  “You met her on a case?”

  She chewed her lip. “I was protecting a POI on a base and she, Abby, she was investigating him.”

  “Should we be worried about her?” My mother had been panicking about files, about Fleming’s reaction. “You think she will close CIG down?”

  Renee got up and started to pack our things into duffel bags. Not that we had a lot, just the clothes that we’d picked up throughout our vacation and the stuff we’d arrived in.

  “Abby is dedicated, wise, intuitive, persistent. She’ll know if something doesn’t make sense. She’s a stickler for the truth.” She gave a wry smile. “If Lilia can hide my record well enough, Abby will do her job and leave when Ursula is back.”

  “And if she realizes that you’re alive?”

  She met my eyes. “She’ll tear the place apart looking for why she wasn’t told and why I didn’t come back to her.”

  “That sounds like a lot of hurt.”

  Her hand hovered over the zip, her left hand. She stared down at it and I saw the memory of her taking off the ring. “She doesn’t deserve that hurt. Besides, she’s married with children now. It will just drag up all that pain for her and me and . . .” She rubbed a weary hand over her face. “It was hard enough watching her go through it.”

  “Which proves my point.” I rocked back and forth in the chair, hoping it would soothe my frazzled senses.

  Renee looked at me with a question in her eyes. “Point?”

  “That you’re a hero.”

  “I would say I was a lunatic for ever agreeing to walk away.” Renee zipped shut the bag and stared at her neatly cut nails. “But then you saw her when you touched me.”

  An energy fizzed around her at her words. A crackle of something I hadn’t seen. Another side. Funny, the more I knew Renee, the more I realized I didn’t. She was one confusing mystery all by herself. “So, is she the one that you love?”

  Renee’s energy fused into a barrier. Her eyes veiled.

  I groaned out loud and thunked my head back against the chair. It had been nice while it lasted. I rocked harder than I intended, making the floorboards groan.

  “Don’t know a lot about cities.” I grunted, hoping to cover my reaction. Renee Black officially gave me a headache.

  “American cities are quite similar on the surface: Noisy, cars everywhere, rich and elite one block, ghetto the next. There’s plenty of cultures crammed into districts and everyone is busy hurrying to the next part of their day.” She smiled. “Then there’s the individual history of a place. Sometimes you can feel the native blood running through the land. It’s amazing how that runs alongside the agricultural side. Or there’s the way it’s set out like New York. The smog of LA, the music of Austin, the heat in Atlanta.” She put the bags to the side. “The accents, the unique little quirks. Every one is so different and yet has such similarities. Fascinating.”

  She’d have made a good guide. There was the same energy that had poured through about languages. Her energy. Her own real genuine feelings. Who was I to get mad? She was really trying and I weren’t being helpful.

  “You mentioned the river,” she continued not looking up at me, just staring down at her nails. “We’ll head to a little place called Riverside. It’s east of Kansas City on the Missouri River. They have a fish market, warehouses. There’s a lot of people there, some of which might have seen something.”

  Sounded like as good a place to start as any. I just hoped the local papers didn’t stretch that far. Sam’s case was coming up and they were starting to dredge up every juicy morsel they could. I didn’t much like the thought of a town full of folks all thinking I was guilty of hurting people.

  “You’ll have me.” Renee walked over and knelt in front of me.

  “At least the parts you feel like sharing anyhow.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I deserve that.”

  I sighed. “I ain’t mad at you really. I guess . . . I’m worried sick. What if I can’t find her? What if she ain’t alright?”

  Renee leaned her chin on my knee. “If Ursula wasn’t okay, she’d haunt us.”

  That made me chuckle and made me feel better to boot. “Good point.”

  Chapter 9

  FREI SIGHED AS she stared at the door. She needed more tools. Tools which had been confiscated. Where they were, she wasn’t sure. She’d ask the guard but he was sleeping on his desk.

  She had no real idea how long Jessie had been without a dose. Her watch had also been confiscated.

  Which meant she needed to get through the door.

  Hmm.

  There was no way she could get through without the guard’s help. He had a card hung around his neck.

  Time to get reacquainted.

  She strolled back over to the office door and unlocked it. The guard looked up through heavy lidded eyes.

  An overpowering stench hit her.

  She held her breath. Her eyes watered.

  She shut the door.

  Her eyes flickered.

  Slight complication.

  Heaviness crawled over her. It wasn’t the cigarette. Her eyes streamed. She coughed.

  The office was the root of it.

  The guy slumped from the desk to the floor.

  She couldn’t just leave him in there. She stared up at the ceiling. What was it with her conscience? Renee freaking Black and her noble, irritating, “We can’t leave him,” mantra rolled through her head.

  Wonderful.

  She picked up the chair she’d been strapped to, slammed open the door, and hurled the chair at the window.

  Crash.

  She held her breath, hurried to him, and dragged him back out. She shut the door and collapsed against it.

  Her eyes flickered again. Streamed. Her chest contracting, her throat burning.

  Good thing she was immune to most things they filled traps with. Huber had made sure of that. It hadn’t been pleasant.

  Strange that she was thinking of it at all. She never dwelled on the past. What was with the memories?

  “Someone doesn’t like you very much,” she muttered to the guard, taking his key card from him. He was limp. His breaths shallow.

  She studied him, unsure how she could help. He didn’t have marks in his ears but was older than her. That meant he wasn’t a slave.

  Hired help? Who hired people when they had slaves?

  Her eyes flickered again.

  A voice, a face floated from her mind’s eye. Someone who had managed to defy the term slave in spite of her circumstances. She missed Suz.

  There was something about the way Suz strode with purpose. She’d been like it since they were kids. A year or so older maybe, Frei wasn’t sure but she was . . . mature. Yeah, the way she caught people’s gaze and had them with a flick of her eyebrow. She didn’t really work as a slave. Everyone knew she must be Huber’s. No slave walked like her. No slave turned around and told Megan where to stick it.

  Most kids wanted to get her attention. Most kids wanted to earn her respect more than the skill captains. It fe
lt good that she was so close. It felt good that Huber let the three of them come home a lot. So she had to steal things for him and it meant dodging Megan but it got them out of Caprock once in a while. It helped them avoid when the buyers were lurking. Suz could deal with Megan anyway. Megan couldn’t touch her.

  Frei didn’t have that strut, that arrogance, that . . . freedom. She kept her head down. She had her sister to take care of. She needed to work hard and do as Huber said and he would take care of them. Suz was a different kind of person, one she drew inspiration from. Suz was nice to watch, great to know but she didn’t have anyone to take care of.

  The guard slumped back to the floor, his eyes rolled and Frei checked his pulse.

  Nothing.

  Potent stuff.

  She rubbed her hand across her brow, stumbled to the door. She swiped his keycard.

  Nothing.

  No way out. The only window was in the room full of gas.

  Another delightful challenge.

  Her eyes flickered again; Suz’s face swam before her, again.

  She sighed.

  The gas was still seeping in . . . from somewhere. Where?

  She pulled off the guard’s shirt and jacket, and stuffed them under the door.

  Her heart skipped. Her eyes flickered.

  She was immune to short term exposure but not continuous. She pulled her watch out of his pocket. Her vision zooming in and out until she could make out the watch face. Jessie had been without her inhaler for a good while.

  Her eyes flickered again. She needed to move. She needed to get to Jessie. She glanced back at the door. Her sister appeared there. A pounding ache rumbled through her temples. Tired. Really tired.

  No.

  She shook it free, staggering to the door. She couldn’t stay there. She had Jessie to take care of now.

  Chapter 10

  NAN.

  I stared out the window as dawn bathed the tips of the trees with a golden glow. The waterwheel ground and rumbled on, reminding me of her. When I needed her. When I needed help. She was there. Sometimes she would swoosh on in just to bicker with me. She’d always been my stability; my home and the cabin hummed with her presence. It had always meant more to me than the house I grew up in. I’d felt safe here. I’d felt like a person around her. Even when I’d been released, when no one wanted to look at me, here I could pretend she’d walk on in and rock away in her favorite chair. Without her around, it just hurt. It hurt so much my stomach ached.