We both sat silent for a moment. The reason we hadn’t lost any more people was because Sachi showed up. But I didn’t feel like talking about what that meant.
“Ahl let ya rest up,” Darren had said with a nod, turning and wheeling himself out of the room.
I had expected a visit from Sachi as well, but she never came. Major Riviera – who the news said was most likely going to become Colonel Riviera, taking Colonel Reynolds spot – showed up that night wanting to know more about Sachi.
“I’ve talked to some of her people,” Riviera had said, “a guy named Markus. He’s demanding we hand over that PRA agent, Coolidge. None of ‘em are givin’ me any fuckin’ answers about what they’re up to. I dunno where this Sachi is. My superiors are tellin’ me she bought a buncha land east of Denver,” Riviera shook her head, “they’re settin’ up a bunch of military grade equipment there. Shit from Peru and Colombia. Lot of it looks Brazilian made, like those BAD-2 Grevista Drones they used in Kansas.”
“I know as much about that as you do,” I said.
“Haven’t you been in contact with ‘em all this time?” she asked, impatient.
“We’ve been out of contact since escaping Mexico,” I said.
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“This Sachi’s the reincarnation of Mike, isn’t she?” Riviera asked, “The one you know from your last life?”
“Yes,” I said, “that’s what makes it such a long story.”
She shook her head, “are you gonna stonewall me now, too?”
“Sachi will either be a great ally, or she’ll be a nightmare,” I said, “we have essentially the same goals, but we differ on strategies for reaching them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She’s never said anything outright,” I said, “but I’m guessing Sachi’s here to bend the LoC to her will.”
“What d’you mean?”
“She’s going to make her and her people the de facto government of the LoC,” I said.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because that’s the way her mind works,” I said, “she thinks the only way to achieve her ends is to pull people toward them, kicking and screaming if necessary. Because she’s convinced that our reincarnation means she’s been given a divine mission to lead the world into paradise.”
“That’ll never happen here,” Riviera said, stepping toward my bed, “I don’t care if she’s immortal, she has no right to initiate force on people.”
“I’m going to do what I can to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said.
“And if you fail, then I’ll make sure,” Riviera said, marching out of the room.
On several occasions the press had tried getting into my room, being turned away by security at my request. About the only company I had for the first two nights were nurses and doctors coming in to change bandages, reapply ointments, and check my vitals. When I wasn’t trying to distract myself with newscasts and podcasts, the images from my hallucination would try creeping into my mind again. When I pushed those out, I couldn’t help but replay all the events that took place during the mission.
Why Regina and Tanya had run off with the crowd bothered me. I told Regina she needed to work the crowd into a fervor, which she had successfully done – a bit too well. I wanted to attribute her decision to her drive to want to do something more exciting. That was a plausible explanation, but it seemed like something more had to be at work.
She saw the way the crowd was responding to her, Evita’s voice said, she wanted to join her adoring fans.
“What makes you say that?” I muttered.
Because doing this was where she felt loved, Evita said, the kind of love she was never able to receive from her parents. She was seeking love and acceptance.
I shook my head, trying to push the image of her mutilated corpse from my mind. The image of half her face blown off, yet the sparkling nose stud still on the half left intact.
Laura getting caught in the blast often crossed my mind. Seeing her arm hanging from the socket by strands of muscle fiber and skin. The way her eyes searched around absently, without registering anything. I should have been caught in the blast, too. If I wasn’t knocked down by the rioters, I’d have been right up there with her, catching the full force of the explosion. But instead I lay with relatively minor injuries.
You told Laura you love her, Evita said.
“She probably didn’t hear me say it,” I said.
So, was it a lie?
“Not a lie,” I said, “but it was…it was the intensity of the situation…I don’t know.”
You do know, Evita said, but now Sachi’s back.
“I don’t love Sachi.”
Don’t you?
“Maybe…I mean yes, I do. But in a different way. I love her in the sense of what we share. But Laura and I…we actually enjoy each other’s company.”
Isn’t that what matters?
“Even if she lives through this, she’ll only be around for a very short part of my long existence. How could I abandon something that can last forever for something that’s only fleeting?”
Because it’ll make you happier…for now.
And, of course, I thought about Colonel Reynolds, seeing that look on his face when he stepped out the back of the truck. A look that was almost apologetic, like he was sorry we’d have to deal with his death.
But the fury that I’d felt after that scared me. I’d felt similar things in the past during extreme situations. During battle it’s not uncommon to be overtaken by that feeling. But it felt even more frightening this time. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching that man die, knowing I was the one doing it.
Everything he ever was, is, or could be, snuffed out, never to return…
The one thing that my mind always came back to, though, the thing I really couldn’t understand, was why the CSA police had come to the NexBioGen headquarters. In the growing riot, they somehow knew that they had to come for us. Levine had said something about an informant…
Coolidge?
That last puzzle bothered me enough I was motivated to get myself out of the bed. My legs were bruised up a bit, but most of the pain from walking was from the burn on my shoulder, the shrapnel hole in my stomach, and bruising on my ribs.
I slowly brought myself to my feet, putting my bandaged right hand on the IV bag holder and started down the hall. It was only a few rooms down, the door guarded by a LoC Security agent, where Alvin Coolidge was being detained. The guard gave me a curt nod as I limped into the room.
Coolidge looked worse than when he was brought into the hospital. He had been examined the morning we arrived, but I knew Major Riviera performed some enhanced interrogation on him – probably more for catharsis at this point than looking for answers. The additional bruising was mostly done to the abdomen and legs.
He grunted when I entered, looking to me without recognition, wincing as he bent at the waist to follow my path, his neck in a brace. His long, graying hair was hastily brushed, greasy from lying in the bed for so long. The creases in his face looked even deeper than I remembered, skin hanging loose near the top of the neck brace.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
“Not in the least,” he said, lying back into the bed, “you look familiar…you’re the guy that kicked the policeman to death, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, now standing beside his bed.
“Have you come to take out your anger on me, too?” he asked, lightly closing his eyes.
“No,” I said, pausing a moment before saying, “what did they ask you about?”
He opened his eyes, “my connection to the CSA. To the PRA. To whatever. I’m apparently the cause of everyone’s suffering around here.”
“You informed on us,” I said.
He grunted, “I wasn’t about to be taken by a bunch of terrorist extremists.”
“I mean, you informed on us at the NexBioGen headquarters,” I said.
&n
bsp; “The what?”
“How did you know we were there?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he said, “but I guess whatever it is, that was my fault, too?”
I took a small step forward.
“Listen,” he said, “I alerted the CSA to your little extraction because the CSA was gonna send my skinny ass back. I don’t know shit about what you assholes were up to or why. I was just trying to save my own ass.”
“They were trading you for someone,” I said.
He exhaled slowly, “I dunno who I was being traded for. All of us, the people being detained, were going to be sent to the PRA. We were only told about it a few days ago.”
“Landon,” I said. She had sought political asylum in the PRA.
“I don’t know,” he said, “I was just a prisoner. Nobody told me about their master plans.”
“Do you know why Sachi might want you?”
Coolidge gave a slight shrug, wincing in pain as he did. “I don’t even know who that is.”
I sighed, “fine,” and turned to walk away.
“I don’t suppose we’ve seen the last of each other?” he called after me, but I ignored him and kept walking.
I walked aimlessly down through the hallways, ruminating as I pulled the IV stand with me. I passed by two LoC Security agents, both of them giving me the stink eye, before finding the cafeteria.
I limped over to the drinking fountain, stopping when I spotted some familiar faces in the corner of my eye. Masaru, sitting across the table from Tea and Carmen, all three eating ice cream. Tea’s crutches sat on the floor by her chair, Carmen’s hand wrapped in a bandage. I considered slinking away, but it was too late. Carmen pointed at me, Masaru turning around, forcing a smile and beckoning me over. I sighed and made my way over.
“Hi, Eshe,” he said, the two girls also greeting me.
“Hi,” I said, grimacing as I lowered myself into the seat next to him.
“You look pretty roughed up,” he said.
“Par for the course,” I said.
Masaru turned back to Tea and Carmen. “Can you girls give me a chance to catch up with Eshe?”
They both agreed to this. Masaru helped Tea to her feet, handing her the crutches. Carmen pulled herself slowly to her feet, torso stiff from the unseen wrapping beneath her hospital gown. Masaru took their bowls to the bussing station before coming back and sitting down across from me.
“I hope things are going better for you than they are for me,” I said, trying to force a grin as he opened up a sucker, putting it into his mouth.
Masaru shrugged, “this time…that seems to be the case.”
“You got out when the getting out was good,” I said.
“Maybe not,” Masaru said.
“Meaning what?”
“How could you bring Regina and the other girls? If I’d known, I never would have…” he exhaled slowly.
“They volunteered,” I said, “Regina wanted to do something more to-”
“You could have said no,” Masaru said, “and Laura…she might not even make it. A lot of people in LoC Security are pissed about Colonel Reynold’s death. I know death doesn’t mean much to you, but-”
“You think I don’t care about any of them?” I raised my voice, “you think I’m just some sociopath using all of you for my own purposes? You left. What choice did I-”
“Isn’t that what you’ve accused Sachi of doing?” Masaru asked, keeping his calm.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m…I’m not trying to say you’re cold,” Masaru said, “but haven’t you ever considered that maybe death just…doesn’t mean as much to you?”
I sank back into my seat, “…it’s possible.”
“I know you care,” Masaru said, “I do. I’ve seen it in you. But I think…I think you’ve been around it for so long it’s become…”
“Just an observation.”
“Something like that,” Masaru said, “and you’re so obsessed with Benecorp that-”
“You think I’m obsessed with Benecorp?”
Masaru put his hands up defensively, “maybe obsessed isn’t the right word. You’re driven. The way you said you would get with your student protégés in your past life. And that’s maybe a good trait to have as general of an army…but we’re not just your soldiers, Eshe. We’re your friends.”
I opened my mouth to argue back, but I knew he was right.
“That’s why I was willing to follow you,” Masaru said, “why Akira and I were willing to follow you.”
“Instead of Sachi,” I said.
Masaru nodded, “Sachi treated us like soldiers in her army. Don’t get me wrong, she could be very personable. But she wasn’t afraid to sacrifice people around her like chess pieces. You were different.”
I sat quiet for a few moments, listening to the murmurs of other conversations going on in the cafeteria.
Are Sachi and I so different that other people can see it?
“Have you talked to Sachi at all?” I finally asked.
Masaru’s eyes refocused on me, “no. First thing she did on arrival, though, was to contact Akira.” He paused a few moments and then said, “Akira was the one who actually sent them to rescue you. On my suggestion.”
I nodded slowly, “I figured as such.”
“We always knew they’d end up coming here,” Masaru said, “apparently they finished up with everything they wanted to do in South America.”
“You mean acquiring a bunch of weaponry,” I said.
“I’m not sure if that was their goal or just a nice bonus,” Masaru said, “a lot of it was cartel property. They were conducting a guerrilla war against the Brazilian government.”
“Wasn’t Markus using Brazilian made BAD-2 Grevista Drones back there in Kansas?” I asked.
“Yes and no,” Masaru said, “bought on the black market by the cartel and reverse engineered.”
“And they sent a bunch of what they acquired to the DRC?” I asked.
Masaru shook his head, “I’m still not sure.”
I sighed, “looks like things are back to the way they were. Sachi keeping secrets and everyone else is just supposed to obediently follow along.”
“What are you going to do?” Masaru said, “Are you going to keep working separately from her?”
“I’m not sure if I could, even if I wanted to,” I said, “especially after my massive fuckup in Kansas. Besides, she’s better equipped and better manned than I am. And we’re both trying to do essentially the same thing. She’s going to get her way, whether I help or not.”
“What way is that?” Masaru asked.
“War.”
“She’s outta surgery,” the nurse said, “in the recovery room. You want help gettin’ there?”
“No,” I said, “thanks.”
The ICU waiting room sat quiet like the hand of death poised to exact its tax. Only my IV stand kept me company. According to the display on my bionic eye, I’d been waiting there for eight hours, slipping in and out of sleep.
My whole body ached as I stood up. Every breath hurt my bruised ribs. The shrapnel wound in my stomach felt like a knife stuck in me, especially when I scratched at the stitches. My sprained ankle throbbed with each step. But I weathered it all as penance, following the nurse into Laura’s room.
I couldn’t tell if it was my own paranoia, but I felt like all of the nurses and orderlies regarded me with barely concealed hostility. There was no definitive victory in the Wichita mission like there was in the Easter Emancipation. We actually lost more people in the Easter Emancipation. But there was a more tangible victory – the rescue of all the boys and girls from a human trafficking ring. The sacrifice was worthwhile. They were the good guys heroically giving their lives in the fight against evil.
In the cold logic of the Wichita mission, it was a success. We now had access to NexBioGen’s records. We freed Tory Goodwin, whose wrongful detainment left him eligible to
run – and in fact, garnered some sympathy support. But there were no sympathetic children to give a face to our success.
The problem is that the people who died were a well-respected ranking officer in LoC Security and two of the very children rescued in the previous mission. That, along with the annexation of Kansas, made it a pyrrhic victory at best. And to make matters worse, candidate Mitchell’s rhetoric about forcing the LoC back in line – most likely the CSA line – had people on edge. Nobody looked like the good guy after this one. There was no decisive victory, no evil vanquished, and the sacrifices felt futile.
Of course, I was interpreting things through my own despair.
The nurse stood near the bed, focusing on her ARs, reading vitals. Laura was in the strange waking condition I remembered. Awake, eyes searching blindly. Occasionally her lips worked as if trying to speak, but no sound came out.
Incapable of sleep. Unconscious while awake.
A bandage covered the area where a right arm used to be, removed all the way up to the shoulder. Gauze covered the burns on her face and body, wet with ointment, streaked red with blood. Her hair had been shaved off, the wounds on her scalp sealed with biodegradable polymer that pinched the skin together.
“She almost looks brain damaged,” I said, keeping my eyes on hers as they wandered about the room.
“We thought she was at first,” the nurse said, “we still aren’t sure if we used the right amount of anesthetic.”
“So, she felt the entire surgery,” I said, turning to look at him.
The nurse said nothing.
I took another step closer to the bed, leaning over her. Laura didn’t respond to my presence. I felt my jaw quiver, eyes filling with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m…so sorry.”
I fell to my knees, sobbing. This couldn’t just be another observation.
Chapter 33
“Sorry I didn’t come around sooner,” Akira said, lowering herself into the chair by my hospital bed. Faint black lines from her brain implants reached just below the hairline, exposed by a tight bun pulling the hair back. She appeared to have recently had her hair styled, I assumed for the funerals of the deceased. Now it was simply kept out of her face. The dazzling colors of her tattooed arms and chest swept out from beneath her tank top, healthier than ever. “You know you could go back home to Cortez in your condition?” Akira added. “Or at least find a motel?”
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