Secrets of PEACE

by T. A. Hernandez

  Zira told her as much as she could, omitting the details about her initial assignment and the radicals. Aubreigh was just as shocked as Jared had been to see what had happened to her leg, but seemed to understand why it had kept Zira from coming home right away. She was sympathetic when Zira spoke about Mei’s death, and talking to her lightened some of the weight on Zira’s shoulders. For the first time since she’d been home, she felt like she belonged here.

  “I was hoping I could stay here for a night or two,” Zira said. “They gave me back my old apartment, but Chairman Ryku said everything had been cleared out.”

  “Sure,” Aubreigh said. “And of course tomorrow, we’ll have to go shopping and find you some new clothes. The ones you’re wearing now almost make me embarrassed to be your friend.”

  Zira threw a pillow at her in mock indignation, but she couldn’t deny that Aubreigh was right. The blouse and pants she had on now were some of Mei’s old things and were more than a little worn and outdated.

  “I’m exhausted,” she said after they had talked for a couple hours. It had been a long day, and anxiety had prevented her from sleeping on the plane. Aubreigh lent her a t-shirt and comfortable pants to sleep in and brought out a few blankets. Zira changed and stretched out on the couch. “Thanks,” she said.

  Aubreigh smiled. “No problem. It’s good to have you back.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  She was surprised to realize that she actually meant it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The first light of dawn creeping through the windows woke Zira early the next morning. She tried to go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning for half an hour, she gave up. A sudden, almost morbid curiosity overcame her, and she stood up, got dressed, and quietly let herself out of Aubreigh’s apartment.

  There were only a few people up at this hour, but they all stared with wide eyes and open mouths as she made her way to the cemetery. The compound was home to a little more than ten thousand people, but the fact that the majority had lived there since they were very young meant that most of them recognized each other by face if not by name. Zira had few friends, but everyone would have heard about her death, even if they weren’t told exactly how it happened. Seeing her now must be like seeing a ghost, and Zira couldn’t blame them for staring.

  At the southwest corner of the compound, the sidewalk turned to grass. A green hill sloped gently down until it met the sharp rise of the wall below. The hillside was neatly groomed and dotted with at least a hundred headstones, all of them a uniform, gray rectangle with bold engraved lettering. Zira walked among them until she found her own name. She reached out to touch the cold stone and wondered what her funeral had been like. Had anyone even come to the ceremony? What words had been spoken over her grave? Who had cried for her?

  At Mei’s funeral, thousands of tears had been shed; it seemed that everyone in Grayridge had gone to mourn her passing. Mei had touched so many lives, brought healing and comfort to anyone who needed it. What had Zira ever done to help another person? Her own funeral had probably been small and impersonal, and the only ones who might have missed her would have been Aubreigh and Jared. The value of her own life seemed so small and insignificant compared to Mei’s, and Zira found herself wondering again why fate demanded that the old woman die so violently.

  A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “Zira?”

  At first, she pretended she hadn’t heard Seth. He called her name again. Taking a breath to brace herself for what was sure to be an unpleasant encounter, Zira turned. Seth came closer and stood beside her. “You here to ask me some more questions for one of your investigations, or what?” she asked.

  “No, nothing like that. Someone said they saw you come down here, and I had to see for myself. Chairman Ryku told everyone you were dead.”

  The accusatory note in his voice annoyed Zira. “For all he knew, I was. What are you doing here at the compound? Don’t you have work to do out there?” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the wall behind them.

  Seth gave her a wry smile. “You’re not very happy to see me, are you? That’s okay—I get that a lot. Unfortunately for you, we’ll probably be seeing a lot more of each other. They pulled me from my regional office, so I’m stationed here now. Something about a lack of people skills, I think, but since it was a promotion, I don’t mind.”

  “Good for you,” said Zira flatly.

  They stood in silence for a while, both staring at the headstone below. “It must be strange, seeing your own grave,” Seth said.

  It was, but she didn’t respond.

  “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” Zira gave him an incredulous look, wondering what she had ever said or done to make him think she’d confide in him. He smirked. “Just an idea. I’m glad you’re okay. See you around.”

  He walked away with that awful, pompous air he had, leaving Zira to her thoughts. His presence seemed to have tainted the place with an obnoxious, nagging feeling, and Zira left a few minutes later. There were more people milling about the compound now, which meant that more people stared and whispered as she walked back to Aubreigh’s apartment. This time, Zira was less tolerant and more irritated by the attention. Couldn’t they all just mind their own business? How long would she have to put up with this?

  Aubreigh was awake and dressed by the time Zira got back. “You ready to go? I thought we could go to breakfast in Amarillo.”

  Zira agreed with this suggestion enthusiastically, already dreading a meal in the cafeteria where she was sure to face more curious stares and gossip. They borrowed a car from unit C and, after breakfast, spent most of the day trying on clothes and looking for basic necessities for Zira’s apartment. With a haircut and clothes of her own, Zira felt more like her old self. She and Aubreigh spent the evening hanging things in her closet and arranging her apartment so it looked almost exactly as it had before.

  Jared stopped by to walk to dinner with her. He waved to Aubreigh and gave Zira a quick kiss. “You look great,” he said.

  “Having clothes from this decade probably helps.”

  Jared chuckled and handed her a slip of paper. “Ryku asked me to pass this on to you.”

  She glanced over it. The note instructed her to go to the unit A research facility in the morning to be fitted for a new leg. Ryku had also listed several training sessions he wanted her to attend and reminded her about meeting with Dr. James on Mondays and Thursdays. She had a very busy schedule, it seemed, but that was preferable to having excessive amounts of free time with nothing to do.

  “Still running errands for Ryku, I see,” Aubreigh said. There was some kind of implication behind her tone that made Zira curious. She looked at Jared questioningly.

  He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Just trying to help him out a little. It’s no big deal.”

  “Oh, stop being modest. I’m not an E-2, but even I know how much you’ve been working with the chairman lately.”

  “I guess.”

  “Is he retiring or something?”

  “Of course not. He’s not even fifty.”

  Aubreigh shrugged. “I’m just saying what everyone else is saying. He’s preparing you to take his place.”

  “Maybe,” Jared said. He was looking at everything in the room but Zira and Aubreigh. “But it won’t be for a long time, anyway.”

  “Why are you so embarrassed?” Zira asked. “You should be proud.”

  “I am proud.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  Jared shrugged. “It’s a lot of pressure. Everyone treats me differently now. It’s weird.”

  She could understand why he might not want to make a big deal of it. He might even be worried that she would start treating him differently because of whatever new status he seemed to have attained. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, then changed the subject. “Come on,” she said and pulled him towards the door. “Let me tell you who I ran into at the cemetery e
arlier.”

  * * *

  The following day, Zira went to unit A’s research facility to be examined for a new prosthesis. She’d never been inside before, but it was one of the most distinguishable buildings in the compound. The exterior walls were alternating panels of concrete and glass that reflected the blue sky brilliantly. The inside was just as impressive, all sharp angles and sleek surfaces. A robot scanned her identification at the door and notified someone that she’d arrived. A few minutes later, two women in white lab coats and yellow armbands escorted her to a room with a reclining chair and numerous medical instruments.

  For two hours, Zira’s leg was measured, prodded, x-rayed, and thoroughly examined. The two women made notes on their CLs as they watched her walk, run, jump, and go up and down stairs. They looked at the battered prosthesis Mei had given her, shook their heads, and exchanged dismayed looks with one another. “It’s too tall for you,” one said.

  “And so primitive,” the other added.

  “We could give you a robotic leg, if you like.”

  “No,” Zira said. She was just getting used to the prosthesis and didn’t want to have to start over with an entirely different kind of replacement. “Just make it like that one, only better.”

  They both looked slightly disappointed but agreed to Zira’s request. “We’ll have it done in a few days. Someone will send you a message when it’s ready.”

  She left to go to a 10:00 physical training session with a small group of E-2 recruits. The six of them were all lined up against the wall of the training center when she arrived. Since her black armband was missing the white stripe that marked recruits, they mistook her for their trainer at first, snapping to attention and looking to her for direction as she walked towards them. They seemed confused when she took her place at the end of the line. One boy who looked to be almost her age leaned over to the girl next to him, and Zira caught the words ‘dead’ and ‘Grayridge’ in their whispered conversation. She gave him an icy stare but said nothing.

  The trainer arrived, a tall woman in her thirties named Laurel who had been one of Zira’s favorites when she was a recruit. She was surprisingly kind compared to most of the other unit instructors but still commanded respect and made her recruits work hard. “I’m sure you all know Zira,” she said to the group. “She’s going to be training with us for a while. You’re lucky to have the chance to work with an active member of this unit. Pay attention and you might learn a thing or two from her.”

  They stretched as a group, then Laurel set them to work on some sprints across the facility floor as a warm up. Zira pushed herself as hard as she could, but she still lagged far behind everyone else. This seemed true for every activity they did. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep up. By the end of the session, her stump throbbed painfully, and she limped out of the facility feeling frustrated and defeated.

  Jared sensed that something was wrong when she met him for lunch that afternoon and asked her about it. She told him about the training session. “You’ll get stronger,” he said. “That’s the whole point of this. Don’t give up.”

  “I’m not giving up. It just pisses me off that I can’t do this.”

  “You can.”

  “Yeah?” Zira growled “When?”

  “It’s going to take time—you know that.”

  “What if I don’t get better?” Zira asked, voicing a fear that had tormented her from the moment she saw that her leg had been amputated. “What if this is the best I can do?”

  “We’ll figure that out when we get there. For now, just keep working at it. You’re getting a new leg in a few days—a better leg. That should help. Just take it easy until then. Don’t kill yourself. If you get hurt, you’ll just have to start all over.”

  After lunch, Zira had to hurry to the medical station for her meeting with Dr. James. The scrawny, freckle-faced man sitting in an armchair hardly looked like the type who had once been an E-2 operative. He stood up when Zira entered and shook her hand. “Hello, Zira. I’m Dr. James.” He gestured to a couch for Zira to sit on and returned to his own chair. Zira slumped into the couch, trying not to dwell on all the better things she could be doing right now.

  For the next hour, Dr. James asked her dozens of questions about her life and any factors that might be affecting her stress level. She gave the shortest answers possible. She didn’t know Dr. James; by default, she didn’t trust him. Did he really expect her to open up to him completely? Judging from the questions he was asking, that was exactly what he wanted. Zira just wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  Finally, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You know I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”

  “I am talking,” Zira said. “And I don’t need your help.”

  “You might be right about that. I’m going to level with you here, Zira. I think this is as much a waste of my time as it is yours. But Chairman Ryku wants me to evaluate you, so that’s what I’m trying to do. And you need my evaluation to get back to work, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So do yourself a favor and help me out. You can talk to me. Nothing you say here ever has to leave this room.”

  Zira’s eyes narrowed. “But you have to report back to Ryku about me.”

  “I just have to tell him whether or not I think you’re mentally and emotionally prepared to go back to work. The specifics don’t matter.”

  Zira looked out the window in silence, considering for a moment that Dr. James might actually be able to help her. There was so much that she still needed to sort out in her head. Mei’s death, the things she’d seen in Grayridge, her doubts about working for an organization she no longer trusted completely. Dr. James was almost an outsider, and perhaps that gave him a clearer view of things than Zira or Jared or anyone else in the unit. Jared had spoken highly of him, so maybe she could trust him. Maybe.

  Before she could respond, Dr. James stood up. “We’re done for today. Just think about what I said.”

  After that meeting, she had more PT with the same group of recruits as before, this time led by a bulldog of a man named Fuller who was much less understanding of Zira’s condition than Laurel had been. Insults flew out of his mouth like water out of a fire hose. He seemed to take a special interest in Zira, laying into her even more than she remembered from when she’d been a recruit. She could hardly concentrate with him breathing down her neck, and she barely managed to reign in her frustration by picturing herself punching him in the face. By the time the session was over, she wanted to scream at someone herself.

  This, of course, only made Seth’s timing worse than usual when he approached her near the apartments. Zira didn’t even have the energy to fake courtesy. “Goodbye, Seth,” she said through gritted teeth as he matched her stride.

  Seth was undeterred. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  “Oh, okay. When would be a good time, then?”

  Zira unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside. “Never,” she said, and slammed the door in his face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The new leg unit A constructed for Zira was an impressive piece of equipment. Black and somewhat tactical in appearance, she could tell it was far superior to her old one the instant she put it on. It felt more balanced, and the flexible ankle joint responded to pressure almost as well as her real one had before. With this, she was more confident than ever that she could get back to her old physical capabilities.

  She attended all of her required training sessions without complaint in the next several weeks. Climbing over walls, rolling into cover, hand-to-hand combat—all of it was new to her with her new leg. She didn’t see improvement right away, but in time it seemed the frequency of Fuller’s screaming decreased, and she didn’t lag so far behind the others.

  Jared celebrated each success with her and encouraged her to stay positive when she’d had a particularly bad day. They spent as much ti
me as possible together, which wasn’t as much as they might have liked since he was often with Chairman Ryku these days, attending joint unit meetings or putting together assignments for other operatives. Zira noticed the changes he’d mentioned in the way people treated him. When they were alone, he was the same Jared she had known and befriended six months ago, but there seemed to be something different about him when others were around. It might have been the way he carried himself. It might not have even been anything inherent about him, but she could easily see the increased level respect he commanded around the compound, especially from their fellow E-2 operatives. It was something in their eyes and the way their bodies straightened whenever he walked by. They looked at him in much the same way as they looked at Ryku, with a mixture of deference, awe, and fear.

  Zira also tried to keep up on the news coming out of the North Pacific Region. The Grayridge riots were briefly discussed by the media when she first came home, but always with a slant that painted the protesters as ungrateful troublemakers stirring up unwarranted conflict. There was no mention of the food shortage that had started it all, nor of the little girl who had starved to death, nor of any victims killed by officials trying to shut down what they called a riot. The unit P officers and other authorities were always portrayed as heroes, putting a peaceful end to the chaos brought on by the deluded citizens of the region. After a few days, the media stopped talking about it altogether.

  She asked Jared what he thought about the situation one night as they walked back from the shooting range. It felt safer to talk about such things here outside the wall. She wondered if he even knew the truth. “Do you know why the people in Grayridge protested?”

  Jared shrugged. “I know they claimed they weren’t getting enough food.”

  “They weren’t. Mei and I used to take some of her extras around to help the others.”

  “How did she have extra?”

  “The radicals left it with her before they went away. Caribou meat, mostly, and some other nonperishables they’d stockpiled.”