Halfway Heroes

by Dustin Martin

  Chapter 54—Emptiness

  Lydia gleaned three tidbits of information from Sylvia when she burst into the apartment. One was that the canisters had been shut down. That was really all Lydia wanted to hear. She was so relieved at the news and could happily have stayed right there to rest for a few days.

  Second was that, given the circumstances, Lydia could be in worse shape. Not that she was the current picture of health. Lydia twisted the larger end of the weathervane that jutted out the front of her leg and snapped it off. That did little, however, to ease the agonizing aches as Sylvia helped her down to the police car. But it did help her go through doorways more easily. Sylvia stopped her when she tried to slide out the rest of the weathervane. “We’ll take you to the hospital. Leave it in for now. Take it out and you’ll lose more blood,” she said. That was fine by Lydia. It was far too painful to yank out. They lay her in the back of the car.

  The last piece of news was that Finster was dead. The funeral home had collapsed, dumping its contents on top of him, the only one left in the building. Heather had fled the scene, and there was no sign that anyone else was left inside. Sylvia had tried digging through the rubble, but the results of Finster’s demise were gruesome and better left for the coroner. As they passed the ruined building, Lydia couldn’t help thinking that but for the grace of God, she’d be lying dead next to Finster. Aidan’s timely intervention had come none too soon. She shuddered to imagine how death had brushed her cheek, encircling her in its folds, only for her to be saved at the last minute.

  She had failed. Failed God, her mother, her upbringing. Failed everything. Lydia had nearly walked away, but she had given in to the sweet, enticing offer to kill Finster. God, I’m sorry, she thought. I messed up. That was an understatement. Fighting with Finster had most likely broken the camel’s back on the building. She was sure of it. She was ashamed and begged for forgiveness, hoping everyone would be able to give it to her. Even though you couldn’t let go of your hate and follow Arthur’s advice, a dark voice in her head told her. She sank deeper into her guilt, wallowing in it.

  When they arrived at the hospital, Lydia was carried to one of the patient rooms. She was set upon by nurses. They extracted the rest of the weathervane before tending to her and cleaning her injuries. She faded in and out of consciousness, wishing the cacophonous noise of the nurses and their equipment would halt so that she could sleep peacefully.

  After an hour, the nurses finally finished their work and declared her stable, dressed, and well, for the time being. With her leg cared for, she noticed the soreness in her right arm. She wrote it off as a result of her fight. As the nurses left the room, Sylvia entered, bringing along a visitor: Debra. “Mom,” Lydia said, her voice weak. Her mother, eyes welling with tears, rushed to the bed and held Lydia in a light embrace, mindful of her pain.

  “Oh, thank God you’re alright,” Debra said, holding her at a distance and scanning her face and body. “When they told me what you had done, I was so worried. Are you okay? You sure? What are you even doing here?”

  Sylvia had left the room, allowing the two to speak in private. “I,” Lydia started, and then swallowed. She suddenly found it incredibly hard to divulge her true reason for following Sylvia. “I came back to help you.” Debra stared at her doubtfully. Lydia knew that face. It was the same one every parent made when they knew their child was hiding the truth. “And to go after Finster. I wanted to make him pay.”

  Debra shook her head. “Lydia, that’s not how we raised you. I can’t believe it. And wasn’t he a terrorist? You could’ve been killed!”

  “He killed Dad!” Lydia said, protesting.

  “He could’ve killed you!” Debra said. “Lydia, when Sylvia came and told me you were in the hospital, I thought the worst. I was afraid I’d lost you, and that’s why she was looking for me.” She stroked Lydia’s hair. “I’ve already lost your father. Don’t ask me to give you up, too. I couldn’t bear that.”

  Shame washed over Lydia, adding to her miserable feeling of failure. In all her efforts for revenge, she hadn’t considered how her potential death might have affected anyone else. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Debra reached out and embraced Lydia again.

  Then all of Lydia’s feelings and thoughts poured out. “Now I realize I shouldn’t have gone after him, but I couldn’t stand it that he was alive and Dad wasn’t. I—I just wanted to hurt him. A part of me wanted to kill him, too. But when I was about to kill him, I couldn’t do it.” She squeezed Debra’s waist. “Then when I tried to leave, he pushed me.”

  “You gave in?” Debra asked.

  “He pushed me,” Lydia said again. But one look from Debra and she nodded her head. “Yes, I gave in.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  Lydia hung her head. “Not intentionally. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t know. I may as well have.”

  “What happened?” Debra asked. Lydia didn’t want to add to her mother’s anxiety, but Debra insisted. “Lydia, tell me what happened.”

  So Lydia walked her through the fight. It became harder to describe when she arrived at the rooftop part. “The roof collapsed. I’m pretty sure it was because we kept fighting. We both might have been able to leave safely, but I went after him again after he pushed me. Anyway, we started to drop, but Aidan caught me,” Lydia said. “Finster died in the fall.”

  Debra sighed. She held her daughter firmly and lifted her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Lydia was shocked. “About what?”

  “About not seeing this before. I should’ve picked up on what you were going through. But I was preoccupied with your father and the funeral.”

  “Mom, it’s not your fault,” Lydia said. “It’s mine. Honest. We were both going through a bad time and I should’ve been there for you.”

  Debra bit her lip. “I should’ve been there for you, too. Yes, it certainly was a bad time for both of us. But I don’t blame you either. I only hope we can avoid this in the future. I’ll be here for you from now on, no matter what. Alright?”

  “I’ll be here for you, too,” Lydia said. “I promise.”

  “Promise to talk to me, okay?” Lydia nodded. “Don’t be afraid to tell me what’s going on. We could’ve worked through this before anything happened. Nothing good comes from revenge, you know.”

  “You sound like Arthur,” Lydia said.

  “Then he’s pretty wise,” Debra said. “But do you understand? After all, do you feel any better now that Finster is dead?”

  Lydia searched her feelings. The hole created by losing her father had returned. She realized that her desire for revenge had grown from the size of a room to that of a cavern. It became a gaping chasm, a greater hole she yearned to close. Hopefully to fill it with some other emotion. She could no longer fill it with rage and hatred like she had the first time. Doing so would’ve only exacerbated it further. The hole resided as a stronger void that couldn’t be satisfied so easily. At the moment it left her feeling cold, unnatural, and hollow inside. “No,” Lydia finally said. “I don’t feel better.”

  Debra patted her on the back. “Remember, I’ll be here for you. Always, okay? We can get through this together. Help one another. Just don’t hide things like this from now on. And don’t ever, ever pull a stunt like this again. Are we clear?”

  “Yeah,” Lydia said.

  Debra smiled. “I am proud of you for helping to save the city though. Told you your strength could be a good thing.” Lydia grinned and scooted over to make room on the bed. Debra sat down and they spent the next couple of hours talking, uninterrupted. While not yet being able to heal the double impact of guilt and personal defeat, Lydia did feel a little better being with her mother.

  Sylvia soon had to tear Lydia and Debra apart. With Rooke, Heather, and Mark still free somewhere in the city, Sylvia deemed it wasn’t safe for Lydia to stay in Golden Springs. She did allow Debra to ride with them to the airport, where Dilbert had landed the plane and was wait
ing for them.

  Aidan had been patched up pretty well, sporting some minor injuries. He offered his help to Lydia, but she waved him off. Debra thanked him profusely, surprising Aidan with a tight hug. “You don’t know what she means to me,” Debra said, releasing him.

  He rubbed his neck bashfully. “I think I have an idea.”

  Lydia was able to hobble out to the police car with the aid of a crutch. Jando was waiting for them next to the car, sitting comfortably in a wheelchair and flirting with the nurse standing behind him.

  “Yeah, that’s the girl I was telling you about,” Jando said to the nurse, pointing to Lydia. “Took the bullet helping her. But like I was saying, if you ever want to go grab something to eat,” he said, sliding his hand along hers, “or—ow!” he hissed as the nurse suddenly lowered his footrests, letting his leg fall.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, helping Jando into the car. Lydia saw the nurse breathe a sigh of relief as she shut the door and rolled the wheelchair back into the hospital.

  Aidan sat up front with Sylvia, who drove, while Debra and Lydia climbed into the backseat. They were escorted by Rogers in a second car. The ride was mostly silent, punctuated by small talk. When they arrived at the airport, Lydia bid her mother farewell and promised to write to her, as always.

  “Take care of yourself,” Debra said. “And tell me if you need anything. If they’ll let me, I’ll come to visit as often as I can.”

  “Alright,” Lydia said. “You take care, too.” She hugged her mother. “Love you. Tell Dar I miss her, too.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  Rogers stood by the plane’s staircase. Sylvia was nearby, waiting for Lydia. “Are you sure you don’t need our help?” Sylvia asked him.

  “No, we’ve got things taken care of,” Rogers said. “All the PMCs are accounted for and some of the local towns are sending backup to help us get everything under control. Besides, we’ve taken possession of all of Rooke’s little toys, so he shouldn’t be a problem. Neither should Heather and Mark. We’ve got the police that are left combing the city and are broadcasting a news report on both of them. Rest assured, we’ll find those two.” Lydia walked over to him and held out his hand. “Well,” he said, pausing for a moment. “You did well.” Sylvia agreed and smiled at Lydia.

  “You did, too,” Lydia said, accepting his hand. “Sorry about Gould.”

  He nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rogers gave them both terse handshakes and left.

  Sylvia assisted Lydia up the stairs and onto the plane. “Maybe I should avoid coming back home for a while,” Lydia said as she climbed the last step.

  “Why’s that?” Sylvia asked.

  Lydia smirked. “Because I always seem to leave here the same: banged up and on a plane.”

  “Whatever keeps you out of trouble,” Sylvia said, chuckling.

  Once everyone had boarded, Dilbert took off. Lydia watched the frost-covered city disappear beneath her. Then she settled into her seat, one place away from the aisle.

  Yet relaxation was not to be. Sylvia sat down beside her. Lydia already knew what was coming. “Tell me everything that happened,” Sylvia said. Something about her stern eyes told Lydia that she already knew the truth—what had been said and done. Even if Lydia lied, Sylvia would probably be able to hear the girl’s voice fluctuations or heartbeat. Some part of her body would betray her.

  So Lydia relented and walked Sylvia through what had occurred when she left the group. She found it especially hard to retell the part where she had given in and attacked Finster one last time. Lydia tried to soften her image, painting herself in a corner, a victim trapped in the middle of a muddled state when he pressed her.

  It’s not technically a lie, she thought. I was in a bad way and was provoked, under stress from the situation. Yet Sylvia didn’t appear to buy any of it. With each passing moment, Lydia’s stomach became more tightly knotted.

  When she finished, Sylvia said, “I see.” She was silent for a couple of minutes and then said, “I’m sure Arthur will want to talk with you.” Then she left.

  What does that mean? Lydia thought. Did Arthur already know? He couldn’t know what had happened yet. What were they planning for her?

  As if providing a distraction from her agitation, Jando hobbled over to her seat. He supported himself on a crutch. “So you can walk,” Lydia said, noting his mobility.

  “Not very well,” he said. “But I’ll survive. Could’ve been worse.” He tapped his nose. “This was almost broken. Might have ended up looking like Seagull over there.”

  Aidan popped his scowling face over the seat in front of Lydia. “Do you ever stop?”

  “Oh, lighten up,” Jando said, turning to Aidan. “You’ve upgraded from Flyboy.” He punched his arm in a friendly way. “You actually stepped up to the plate.”

  “I think that was a compliment,” Lydia said.

  “It was, it was,” Jando said, holding his hand over his heart. “And if you like, you can call me Chameleon from now on.”

  “But you actually like the name,” Aidan said. “Although it does fit. Hiding from danger when it comes near and changing your stripes to serve yourself.” Lydia snorted, turning her head away to laugh.

  “Now why do you have to do that?” Jando asked. “I was trying to be friendly.”

  “A backhanded compliment still counts as an insult, even if delivered with a sincere smile,” Aidan said.

  “Well, as long as you guys don’t call me Bear, then I’m fine,” Lydia said.

  “I quite liked that name,” Jando said. “ ‘Mighty like a bear’ and all.” He shrugged and limped toward the restrooms. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he was gone, Lydia leaned forward. “Hey,” she said, gaining Aidan’s attention, “speaking of that, I just wanted to say thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his cheeks pink. “Bet your parents would be pretty amazed at what you did,” Lydia said. “You’ve come a long way from dangling by a rope.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe next time, I won’t have to rely on my mom to help me.”

  Lydia nodded and leaned back. But then she sat forward once more. “Wait. I thought you said it was your dad?”

  “Oh, uh, I meant my dad,” he said quickly. Too quickly, Lydia thought. Aidan didn’t look her in the eye. When he did turn back to face her, he could only stare at her for a handful of seconds before gazing away. “What?” he asked.

  “You’re lying,” she said. “What really happened?”

  “I’m not,” he said, his voice cracking. He eyed her. “Besides, what does it matter to you?”

  She pulled back. “I was just interested. But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

  He looked at her, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grunted, and stood, taking the seat next to Lydia. He checked the aisle. It was empty, save for Sylvia at the far front. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but promise to keep it a secret.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  He stared deep into her eyes, as if he could judge her honesty. “I was afraid of heights before then. My parents said when I was about three years old, I was playing on the stairs. Well, I crawled through the banister and dangled off the edge. I must have tripped because I fell off.”

  “You fell from the top of the stairs?” Lydia asked.

  “Not the top,” he said, shaking his head. “About halfway up. Supposedly, it really hurt me, and it took me a long time to overcome my fear of climbing the stairs. I’ve been wary of heights ever since, despite my parents dragging me on their excursions to break me of my fear. Those at the Cave say it’s psychological. What’s so funny?” He frowned at her as she giggled.

  “Sorry, I just had this mental image,” Lydia said, stifling her laughter. “Of you, as a baby, freaking out over a staircase. I didn’t expect that at all. Then the image popped into my head.” She bit her inner cheek when he glared. “But they’r
e right. It could be psychological.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “After all, you did fly,” Lydia added.

  “Good thing we have elevators at the Cave,” Jando said, spooking the pair as he stuck his head between them. Aidan turned away from him. Jando tousled his hair. “My, how the tables have turned. That’s a very nice ace in the hole to have up my sleeve. I never did buy that other story.” He moved off to another seat.

  “And that’s why I don’t tell that story,” Aidan muttered, chin in his hand.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Lydia said. “Thanks for telling me.” She briefly pecked him on the cheek.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his sour grimace replaced with a lopsided grin.

  “Hey!” Jando called, hobbling back to them. “What about me? I helped catch you when you fell from the truck. I took a bullet for you.”

  “I suppose you did all right,” Lydia said, smirking. She leaned up and pecked his cheek. “Happy?”

  “I think maybe I deserve a little more,” he said. Lydia rolled her eyes. She should’ve assumed he wouldn’t be satisfied with that. “How about on the lips?”

  “How about a hug instead?” Lydia suggested. She opened his arms for him.

  “A hug?” he said incredulously.

  “You’re right. That’s too much. So was the kiss. How about a pat on the leg and a ‘thank you’?” she said. She reached out and gingerly patted his wound. He winced as she said, “Thank you.”

  “Oh, you are a cruel one,” Jando said. “If I wasn’t so bewitched, I might retaliate.” He limped away, much more slowly than before, adding a hurt puppy-dog look.

  Lydia closed her eyes and rested in her seat. But with all conversation over for the moment, her thoughts circled back to what she had discussed with Sylvia. What would Arthur do once she returned to the Cave? How upset would he be? Perhaps her being an asset in stopping the SN91 would lessen the blow of whatever he had planned. Yet Lydia was sure that whatever part it stopped, it wouldn’t be enough to halt the brunt of his disciplinary action.

  She tried to sleep. She doubted she’d have a better opportunity to rest up. Eventually, Lydia’s head brushed Aidan’s shoulder, and she lulled into a dreamless sleep. He drifted off as well, his cheek touching the top of her head.