One More Day

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  I nodded. It wasn’t a bad comparison. All it needed was the addition of soul-crushing loss, and she was dead on.

  “There’s more,” I said.

  “Of course there is.”

  I went over what Jenson and David had found when they’d cracked the files, and she knew most of it, that Death was making a formula dealing with powers, and that Alpha had made a deal to give him samples from StirkeForce. “So when I had Death, he told me that they need my sample, and I kept refusing to give it to them, and they ended up… well, you know,” I said, unable to say the words, “to punish me.”

  She nodded and put her hand on mine, leaning over the desk.

  “Anyway. They were making this, with this overall scheme of ultimately controlling world governments, building their own superhero army. I assumed this was all Death’s idea.”

  “And it was really Killjoy’s,” she said softly. I nodded.

  “Before Killjoy killed him, Death told me that the formula and all of his notes were in a lab, one Death worked at all the time. He kept handwritten records. There are no computer files or anything like that, because he was paranoid that someone else would end up with his research if he kept it digitally. So if we can find and destroy this facility, this lab, that puts an end to Killjoy’s little injected army plot.”

  She was watching me. “And? Did you find it?”

  “I tracked the location from Death’s phone’s GPS.” I left David and Jenson out of it. She didn’t need to know that they’d been helping me all along. “The lab is located just off the coast of Mexico. We go there, we destroy everything, we arrest whoever is there, and we hurt him. Bad.”

  She sat thinking for a few moments, then shook her head sadly. “It’s not that simple.”

  “What do you mean? Yes it is.”

  “You’re talking about going to an island in international territory and destroying it and arresting people who may not even be American citizens.”

  “This has to be stopped.”

  “It would cause an international incident,” she said. “And trust of superheroes is already at a major low. We can’t go marching or flying or whatever into a foreign country and just start breaking stuff.”

  “So, what? We just sit here and let it happen?”

  “I’ll take it to the international tribunal.” I started arguing, and she talked over me. “StirkeForce can’t make a move until we have their support. We do, we’re immediately on everyone’s bad side. We’re hanging on by a thread here. I know you want to make them pay, but we need to go through the proper channels.”

  I still had my mouth open to argue, and I clamped it shut.

  “Email me the information you have, and I’ll present it. Okay?” Portia asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I know you wanted a different answer, but— ”

  “I understand,” I said.

  She nodded. “Okay. Let’s get some rest.”

  We got up, and she patted my shoulder. We rode the elevator down to our floor together.

  “She was a really nice lady,” Portia said as we stepped off the elevator.

  “She was,” I said.

  “She was proud of you.”

  I met her eyes then. “Well. That was a mistake, huh? Considering that someone I stupidly trusted killed her.”

  “Jolene.”

  I waved her off and let myself into my suite. I paced and thought.

  And a few minutes later, I had changed out of my uniform and was out, flying toward Hamtramck.

  I’d tried handling this the official way. Now it was time to handle it my way.

  I landed in a park, looked around to make sure nobody was around, which wasn’t likely due to the late hour and the rain, which had been falling since our fight against Killjoy’s team. It felt like a month ago, at least, with all that had happened since.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my black jacket and walked down the street toward the big old house I’d visited so often, it felt almost like a second home. I went around to the back door, rather than standing under the porch light at the front door. I knocked on the back door quietly. A few moments later, I saw the kitchen light turn on, and then Luther’s face peered out the window at me. A second later, I heard the locks clicking, and then she opened the door.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here again, kotka,” she said in her scratchy voice.

  “I was thinking about you,” I said. “I need your advice.”

  She peered up at me, then held the door open wider. “Come on in. I’ll put the tea on.”

  I sat at the formica table in Luther’s yellowed kitchen and watched her shuffle around in her slippers and bathrobe. As I’d always figured, her hair was indeed in curlers and a hairnet. We were silent while she prepared the tea. She placed it on the table, then turned on the radio on the kitchen counter, which was pretty much always, as long as I’d known Luther, set to the sports radio channel. Not because Luther was especially into sports, but because their incessant babble was enough to cover just about any conversation.

  I knew she would expect me to speak in code, anyway. I appreciated Luther’s distrust of just about everyone even more now than I did when we worked together.

  I took a sip of my tea and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I need to get a gift for someone… special,” I said, aware that I was probably not making the most pleasant face. She watched me closely, then nodded.

  “What kind of gift? There are all kinds of possibilities. Something to let them know you’re thinking of them? Something to keep them warm? Something to feed the stomach?”

  I kind of guessed at what she meant. A message or a threat, a little bit of arson, or, I guessed, poison, maybe? It sounded about right.

  “Really, I want to get his attention,” I said softly, meeting her eyes. I smiled, aware that it was kind of an automatic thing, not something I meant. “Something he couldn’t ignore.”

  She seemed to be thinking.

  Then she nodded. “I’ll give you this business card I picked up. Lovely little gift shop,” she said. “You’ll want to be careful. The owner is a little unsure of new customers. I’ll let her know to expect you though.”

  She wrote on the back of a napkin and handed it to me.

  “Good luck,” she said. “Most of her gift items seem a little overpriced, but how often do you find the perfect thing, yes?”

  I nodded, glancing down at the napkin.

  “Thanks so much. I knew you’d point me in the right direction.”

  She smiled then. “Come back anytime, kotka. I have missed you.”

  I got up and she showed me out. I heard the door click locked behind me, then I headed back down the street until I got to the park, where I took off toward the East Side.

  I made my way to the neighborhood where my contact had told me to find her and scoped out a good, empty part of the neighborhood to land in. I made my way to a ratty little house just off of Moross. The bell tower of St. Jude church was illuminated in the distance, kind of fuzzy looking through the misty night. I walked up to the front door and knocked. The door opened a minute later, a young woman’s face peering out.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Luther sent me.”

  She looked me up and down, then nodded. She pulled the door open.

  “She mentioned what you wanted. I have a few good options here.” She led me into a back bedroom. The house was dark, which made me nervous because if some asshole was hiding in the shadows, I couldn’t see them.

  “Haven’t paid your light bill, huh?”

  She snorted. “I don’t live in this shit hole. I do business here sometimes. Never bring this shit home with me.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “Lola, right?”

  “That’s me. And I wouldn’t be here if Luther didn’t vouch for you. I never deal with new people.”

  I didn’t answer. I understood that, now better than ever.

  She t
urned around. “Need to see the money first, blondie.”

  I kept my eyes on her as I reached into my coat pocket. She was short, easily about a half foot shorter than me. Short dark hair, dark eyes, a round face that looked too young to be doing this kind of business. I pressed the wad of bills into her palm and she rifled through it quickly.

  “Good.” She pocketed it, then went over to the table and pulled what looked like a ratty old Christmas table cloth aside. There were several boxes, different sizes.

  “I need something I can use at a distance. Remote,” I said.

  She shoved two of the items out of the way, leaving three more.

  “Either one of these do what you want. You want to get someone’s attention? You’ll fucking get it.”

  I looked at the table.

  “How much for all three?”

  She pulled the wad out of her pocket. “Another one of these.”

  I dug into my other pocket and pulled out more bills.

  She laughed and took them from my hand. “Bitch, they’re all yours. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  “You got a box to put these in?”

  She grabbed one from under the table and I loaded it up. We shook quickly, and then I took off just as the sun was starting to rise.

  Today was going to be a nightmare. Hopefully, I wouldn’t be the only one hurting by the time it was over.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I rode with Jenson, Ryan, and David in Jenson’s Jeep; Ryan and I in the back seat, Jenson and David in front. They argued about the best route to take, and Ryan and I sat silently, each of us watching the view out our respective windows.

  For a bunch of second-rate superheroes, we cleaned up pretty well. David and Ryan filled out their black suits nicely, and Jenson wore a suit as well, black pants with a matching jacket. I glanced down at myself, black skirt and a black blouse, and thought how much Mama would have hated all the dark colors.

  The funeral home was everything I feared it would be. The same solemn woman who had helped me make the arrangements ushered us into a room with a placard that said “Faraday” outside of the door. I walked in and stood at the back, as close to the doors as I could get without actually stepping out of the room completely. We were a little early, the only four people in the room. The rest of StrikeForce was getting ready to leave when we’d pulled out of the parking garage.

  Ryan caught my eye. “Jolene, you’ll want to do this before there’s an audience,” he said quietly, and I shook my head, trying not to look at the coffin.

  “He’s right,” Jenson said softly. “Do you want me to go up with you?”

  I shook my head again, then I closed my eyes.

  “Let’s make sure she gets a minute. Come on,” Ryan said to David, and I watched as they went and stood at the entrance of the room, like two bouncers ready to turn away anyone who tried to get in. Jenson patted my arm, and I took another breath and walked up to the coffin. There was a kneeler thing there, beside it, and I knelt on that. I focused on the hardware on the side of the coffin, studiously not looking at Mama. I didn’t want to see her like this. This wasn’t her. Not anymore. All the life and warmth and humor was gone. I felt tears come to my eyes, and I finally made myself look at her.

  She looked like a mannequin in the yellow dress I’d brought for her. Mama rarely wore makeup, and she had far too much on now, I guess to disguise the pallor. Her hair was too curled, too fluffy. Somehow, it made it easier. If she’d looked the way I was used to seeing her, I couldn’t have stood it.

  “I wish we’d had more time, Mama,” I whispered anyway, knowing there were things that needed to be said, and this was the last chance I’d get to see her face while I talked to her. “There’s so much I never told you. Too many lies. “ I tried to blink back the tears that threatened, and I couldn’t. I sniffled. “I was a liar, Mama. And a thief. A con artist. Embezzler. And I’ll probably be a lot worse before this is all done.” The tears flowed freely now, and I swiped them away angrily. “This is my fault. I should have just done what you wanted me to do: go to college, get a job, get married. Neither one of us would be in this mess now.” I took a deep breath. “There’s this big yellow house. Remember the surprise I told you about? That was it. Your house, that one you liked so much. I just wanted to see you retire and have somewhere nice. I’m sorry everything went so bad.” And once the words were out of my mouth, I couldn’t help the way I started crying. I heard sniffles behind me, and Jenson came and knelt beside me. She put an arm around my waist and rested her head against mine.

  “It’s not your fault, Jolene,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “You have to stop that.”

  I couldn’t answer. My throat felt closed, tight, and if I opened my mouth I felt like I’d scream. There was another sniff behind us, and I heard Ryan telling someone to give us a minute. I glanced at Jenson and nodded. We stood up and walked toward the rows of chairs for people to sit in for the visitation. I caught Ryan’s eye and nodded. He and David came back in, and Ryan strode up to me. His eyes were red and I realized, with a start, that he’d been the one I’d heard sniffling. It was so easy to forget about his hearing. Of course, he’d heard every word I’d said to Mama. There was relief in not being completely alone with it. My eyes met his, and he gave a small shake of his head, then bent and pulled me into his arms. I rested my forehead against his shoulder and tried to calm the sobs that still escaped every once in a while.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re tough, just like she was. Remember, you told me and David and Jenson all that stuff she went through, how she kicked ass every day to make sure you had food on the table. Remember that?” he said in my ear, low. I nodded. “You’ve got that same strength in you. And no matter what you think you are, she knew you, and she loved you. Don’t let the rest of this shit make you forget that. Ever.”

  I stayed there for a moment, regaining my breath, trying to clam down, trying to tune out the voices of people coming into the room, the new round of sobs. After a few moments, I pulled back and looked up at Ryan.

  “Thanks,” I said shakily, and he nodded. Then he squeezed my hand. I heard someone say my name and I turned, recognizing one of the women who’d worked with Mama just as the rest of StrikeForce arrived, streaming in the door in their funeral clothes. I spent the next hour talking to people, listening to how sorry they were, what a good woman my Mama was and, more, person after person came up to me to tell me that she’d changed their life, that she’d been there at a crucial time and they don’t know if they would have made it through certain things without her. And all I could do was nod, because yeah, that was Mama.

  Jenson, David, and Ryan stayed near me the entire time.

  Finally, it was time for the procession to the cemetery. Jenson left, as instructed, to pull her car into line. Ryan, David, two of my neighbors, and two men from Mama’s work volunteered as pallbearers, and I watched numbly as they maneuvered the coffin from the funeral home and into the back of the hearse. When that was done, we got into our cars. We were right behind the hearse. I would rather not have been. I was grateful that Jenson was driving, and I could be in the back seat, not looking at the back of the hearse. Instead, I looked out the window. Ryan reached over and took my hand, and I twined my fingers with his. My three patrol partners had made sure they’d had my back in every way since all of this shit had happened, and I wasn’t used to it. I didn’t want to trust it. I mean, look at how well trusting people had worked for me so far. But they’d been there, through working together, to training me and helping me figure shit out, to now, when I was at my lowest.

  “Guys,” I said.

  “Are you okay?” Jenson asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Okay enough. I just wanted to… thanks for everything the last couple of days,” I said, feeling awkward. “It’s meant a lot.”

  “You know I’m always here for you, Jolene,” Jenson said. “And I know you’d have my back if I needed you.” />
  “Same,” David said, and Ryan nodded.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence, and when we finally got there, the rain started up again. The ground was already waterlogged from the previous day’s rain, and my heels sank into the soft earth as I watched the pallbearers bring Mama’s coffin to the side of her grave. The marker wasn’t there yet. The funeral home lady had told me it would be a few days.

  I was glad the hole wasn’t dug yet. This was symbolic, letting her loved ones and friends know where her grave would be when the time came. I din’t want to think of her down there, which I knew was childish, but I couldn’t help it. We stood there, and listened to a man from the chapel at the cemetery say a few words about my mother, and offer a prayer. Afterward, I watched as everyone walked past Mama’s coffin, dropping a yellow rose onto it. As I watched. I got a prickle between my shoulder blades, as if I was being watched. I turned and looked around, but I didn’t see anything. I turned my attention back to the coffin.

  When there was only the rose in my hand left, and everyone was standing there, waiting for me, I finally forced myself to step forward and drop the rose onto the towering pile on the coffin.

  “Love you, Mama,” I whispered. “Bye.” I went to stand with everyone else, and Jenson and Dani (whose eyes were red from her own mourning) put their arms around me as we watched the pallbearers load the coffin into the hearse one last time, and then we watched it drive away.

  I barely made it through the wake. I thanked Jenson and her cousin, who had her same gray eyes, profusely for their help, and they both waved it away. I couldn’t eat. All I kept thinking was that he’d pay. And it would start tonight. I was relieved when people finally started leaving and I could go home to Command. I needed to sleep, and then I had one more thing to do to honor Mama’s memory.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When I woke up, I got up and scrubbed my face. My eyes were still red from crying, but now I felt numb. It was better that way.