“Well, I’ll do all I can to help you manage it,” she resolved, promising it to herself too. Finally, a concrete way to help him. “Get the reflex under control, and maybe even turn it into more of a positive.”
“Yeah,” Cai didn’t sound convinced. He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. She had the feeling that now that he’d said his piece and she hadn’t rejected him, the walls they’d broken down together were about to start going back up. “I mean, it’s not like my life is terrible. We’re doing fine. Me and Tobias.”
“That’s right,” she tried to remember exactly when she’d heard that name before, what Cai had said. She could see him closing off, feel the distance between them growing. It was a natural reaction—advance, test the waters and retreat, but she wasn’t ready to give up this precious chance. Not without one last try. “You’ve been together a long time, haven’t you?”
“Longer than I can even remember.” Their connection might have been fading but a faint smile remained. “My parents are gone, and nobody sticks around for long in Parole—nothing does, really. Not people, not buildings or streets, everything’s changing all the time. Only two things in my life have really stayed the same for more than a couple months. Coming here, every week, and Tobias. Forever.”
“He’s welcome here too, whenever he wants. I’d love to meet him.”
“Nah, he’s not real big on group… group anythings.” Cai looked at the door. He wasn’t about to follow Mrs. Le’s example and run outside in a panic, but Rose couldn’t say what shape he’d be in the next time he walked into this room. Their time was almost up.
“But you’re still here,” she pressed softly. “You’ve never missed a Thursday, even if you’ve never said anything until now. That tells me more than words.”
When Cai finally spoke again, it was in a dry whisper. “It’s hard...”
“Of course it’s hard. That’s why I’m here. But you know what? The most powerful sign of hope to me is that you’re here having this conversation with me right now. I’m proud of you.”
He still didn’t look up, but he was smiling a little bigger now, a little stronger.
“Maybe the group setting isn’t the best. How would you feel about some one on one time? Like this, but sitting down?”
Cai looked at the floor again, hands a little deeper in his pockets, but he was nodding. Rose caught a flash of a smile. “That’s what I love about you, Miss Rose,” he said. “You listen even when I can’t talk. You know when I’m trying.”
“Well, I do my best,” Rose said, face flushing again. “Sometimes I mess up.” Like today. Save one and lose another. No, not lost, Rose resolved. Don’t give up on her. Give her time. See if she comes back. If she doesn’t...go from there. In any case, make sure this never happens again. Too many cracks to slip through.
“What would these one-on-one things be, just this?” he asked.
“This, and first some mental exercises, mostly just to help you relax, then slowly feeling out your ability. Trying some more mental techniques, seeing what helps and what doesn’t. I’ve got a hunch that this new… telepathy?” She speculated. “Empathy? We’ll find out. I think you’re right, it’s intersecting with a lot of what you’re dealing with. You have more on your plate than most people I know, and life in Parole is hard enough.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “But really, just talking about it right now helped.”
“I bet it did. Nobody should have to keep all that inside. And now you can talk to me whenever you need to.”
“Thanks. Nice to know for my next bad day.”
“We all have bad days.” Rose glanced down at her own arm, still draped with thorny vines. “It’s important to know how to deal with them. For ourselves and the people around us.”
“Even on your worst day, you do better than me.” His faint smile faded. “I do want to get better. But I get scared. I’ve screwed up so many times before, when I really did try. And I screwed up again today, bad. This power sucks, and it’s gonna hurt people if I’m not careful, and my brain already scares the hell out of me sometimes, and I mess up everything I touch, and—I’m sorry, but what’s the point?” He shook his head. “Sorry, but I just had to say it. Ha, there, that time I said what I was thinking.”
Rose hesitated, thinking hard and refusing to fill the silence with empty words or sugary lies. He was objectively right. Second chances were rare in Parole, and if you weren’t careful, your first mistake could be your last. Lessons were hard and brutal, even for those with bodies and brains in perfect working order. Following her heart meant taking on the responsibility to keep those around her safe, and sometimes people slipped through the cracks. Everybody shared that same responsibility, in some way.
For the first time, between the two of them, Rose was the one speechless.
“It’s okay, Miss Rose,” he said quietly, and turned to go. “Thanks for listening anyway.”
“Cai?” She held up one hand, and gestured to her head. “Go ahead.”
“What?” He stopped, eyes widening.
Rose nodded. It was a leap of faith, but not a risk. You only called it a risk if you didn’t trust the outcome.
Cai stared her with a strange expression: lips pressed tight together, eyebrows furrowing. He blinked several times, hard, nodding up and down, and quickly brushed a hand across his face. When he spoke, his voice was rough and thick with tears. “I believe in you. You’re not alone in this. You’re trying and that’s enough. You’re enough.”
“There,” Rose smiled as she felt her own eyes sting. She hadn’t been afraid, but she had been holding her breath. “Nicely put.”
“Th-thank you,” he said, sounding choked, but keeping his voice from breaking. He started backing out of the room, still nodding his head. Then he stopped, made himself look up. Now his eyes were red and puffy over the dark circles, but they also met her gaze steadily, without blinking or flinching away. “I won’t let you down again. Or anyone else. I’ll work harder. I’ll keep people safe, and I’ll use it, and it’s—it’s just gonna be good.”
“Yeah it is. But work for yourself.” Rose returned with a wave. “See you Thursday.”
“Yeah. Thursday.” And then he was gone.
Rose stood there for a long time after the room was empty. This session had started with a disaster and ended with a small victory. She’d gotten a win with Cai. If Mrs. Le reached out, Rose would be waiting. If she didn’t, she’d more than understand. Either way, she’d work to make sure that what happened today never happened again.
So much pain all around, some days she didn’t know where to start. But Rose had to start somewhere.
She took a deep breath, and started to stack the chairs against the back wall.
The night CHAMELEON MOON begins…
☾
Smoke filled the shattered streets of Parole. Most of the light came from below, red-orange and flickering, where thin cracks and gaping holes revealed the long drop and the open flame. You couldn’t trust the brittle pavement, so people found other ways to get by. When it wasn’t safe to walk on a sidewalk, it was time to fly - or at least run so fast and leap so far it seemed that way if you closed your eyes. On a night like this, Regan could pretend a lot of things if he closed his eyes.
He took a breath and held it. As his feet left the rooftop edge, he exhaled.
“All right, the lizard has landed.” A man’s dry voice crackled into his ear, and he could hear the crooked smile through the mild static buildup. “Got you on visual again. Next time you look up and see an Eye in the Sky blinking back, it might just be me. Uh, or it might not. We’re not out of range yet, and they are out tonight, they are out in droves, so keep it moving.”
Regan didn’t reply as he rose out of his loose-kneed crouch. Instead of running, he took a slow step forward, then another, letting his thin chest expand along with the loose frill of skin hanging at his neck. He turned in a slow circle and tilted his head back to stare up at the dim sky
and curving barrier overhead.
“Getting your bearings?” The voice in his earpiece continued, clearer now.
“Yeah,” Regan slowly let his arms slowly drop. “I know where I am.”
“You and the rest of Parole, in a couple minutes.” He could hear a soft, brisk, continuous clacking—typing, ancient keys on a keyboard rattling a little loose. “Half the payload came through about a minute ago, it’s uploading now. The fun half. Still got the business half?”
“Sensitive material is safe and sound.” Regan slapped his pocket, satisfied at the small rectangular drive secure inside. “Garrett Cole’s eyes only. Making my way to the drop point now.”
“Cool-cool. Boss-man’s gonna be happy.” He could almost see the satisfied smirk on the other line. He could definitely hear it in the bright, expressive voice that fired off swift syllables almost as light and quick as the typing in the background. “And so am I.”
“And Eye in the Sky is about to be very upset.”
“Which means CyborJ’s work here is... just beginning. Damn, it feels good to be me.” The alias sounded a bit different than it looked spelled out, but was strikingly literal once you grasped the logical eccentricities of the mind behind it. It was almost the word ‘cyborg,’ but sounded more like ‘cyber’ with the letter ‘Jay’ spoken on the end. A name everybody in Parole knew, for better or for worse. If they didn’t, they soon would, he liked to say. What Parole didn’t know was that where CyborJ went, Regan tended to follow—a name nobody was supposed to know. If it stayed that way, if that balance of fame—or maybe infamy—and anonymity was kept, it meant they were doing their jobs right.
“That’s what we do best.”
“Yes it is! Isn’t it?” Regan stopped; Jay’s voice was suddenly much higher and a little warbly. He reached up to take off the headset he wore to adjust the frequency for distortion—then stopped when he heard the loud, happy purring on the other end. “Isn’t it, Seven? Are we the most ridiculously amazing stealth ops duo Parole has ever seen? Do evildoers quake at the mere mention of our—well, my name?”
“Sounds like a yes to me.” Regan’s smirk was tight. “‘Cause they never see me coming.”
“And everyone still thinks I’m like ten people using one name, which I take as a compliment. Or I have tech powers. So bitter, such denial. The nonbelievers say I’m impossible, that no mere mortal with an internet connection, however heroic, could match the legend of CyborJ! Except that I do. And then top myself, all the time.”
“You talk enough for ten people. Are you done?”
“For now. And so’s this run stage. Looking clean from here, nobody’s pursuing.” Jay’s voice returned to normal as the slightly metallic purring faded away. “Fast hit, clean grab, smooth exit. Treasure trove secured on my end—how far to the drop point? I won’t be able to relax until that thing’s in Garrett’s hands and out of ours.”
“Do you ever relax?” He hesitated, smile dropping off his face. “‘Cause I don’t.”
“There you go. Do ‘we’ ever relax? No we don’t, ‘cause one, we live in Parole, and two, we got like 90 anxiety and trauma disorders between us. Probably what makes us so good, little hypervigilance can go a long way. But this one isn’t even my scream-brain talking, anything you have to physically deliver has to either be really valuable or really dangerous, and every minute you spend walking around with it in your pocket…”
“Point taken. But it’s a data cache, Jay, not a bomb.”
“Yeah, yeah, that Garrett Cole himself sent us to personally grab. Which means it might very well be something that goes boom very big and loud—what did you even find in there?”
“You know runners aren’t supposed to peek. And we’re not supposed to discuss specifics over the comms.”
“And ground control operators aren’t supposed to have ‘distractions’ like pets during runtime, but Seven-Of-Nine-Tails’ programming helps me monitor your vitals, scramble SkEye sensors, keep my commlines airtight... not bite my fingernails clean off when stuff gets hairy, little things. We bend rules, we improve ‘em—that’s why we’re the best. You peeked. Tell me what you got.”
Regan frowned. “He didn’t tell you what we were after on this run?”
“I don’t know if he even knows. Which is why he needs us! Nah, he just said it was some super important SkEye report on... whatever’s going on outside Parole. And it comes straight from Major Turret.” He gave a little snort. “If he has anything to do with it, the outside world’s as screwed as we are. Anyway, drop point, chop-chop!”
“I’m calculating. It’s just over a mile, but it’s…” Regan ran the route as best he could in his head, circuitous paths through crumbling buildings and across pavement eaten up by flames. This block was due for a collapse, and the ground wasn’t to be trusted. Dangerous terrain meant he probably wouldn’t run into anyone else, but… “Gonna be a little up and down.”
“Okay. So no detours. No incidents, no intrigue, no nothing. I want a nice, monotonous rest of the night. I want boring.” A moment passed. Jay stopped typing. The sudden absence of the constant background noise was striking, but Regan didn’t move. “Getting down from there might be a start.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” But Regan still didn’t start moving. He wasn’t smiling anymore, staring up at the separated sky. He watched a helicopter’s blades slice a clean path in the opaque air, its searchlight’s bright column sweeping the darkness below. He imagined he could see stars beyond—but it had to be a trick of the barrier, the only source of light from the sky they’d had in a decade.
There was a moment of expectant silence from the other end—then Jay cleared his throat, and Regan could hear the rapid drumming of his fingers against his desk. Different from typing, a nervous sound. “Hey. Focus. Runtime’s not over yet.”
“Right.”
The tapping stopped, and somehow the silence was more urgent than words. “So we…celebrate when it’s safe, huh? Get moving now?”
Regan nodded, but didn’t answer or move. His telescopic eyes slowly traced the curve of the barrier they could just barely make out through the thick layer of permanent smoke.
“I’m telling you to get off the roof because I don’t want you to get spotted and die, that’s what these words coming out of my mouth mean.”
“I hear you, sorry.” When he spoke at last, his voice was muffled by the mask he wore, though the internal radio easily delivered it to the only ears he wanted listening. Everywhere else, it was immediately swallowed up by Parole’s ever-present ambient noise: rushing hot air, helicopter blades, droning engines, and the ominous roar of fire like a subterranean river not-so-far below. “Jay? Are you happy?”
“Sigh.” He actually said the word as he let out a breath. “Regan, babe, most amazing and aggravating of reptilian runtime specialists, I would be awash in a sea of ecstasy if you would get off the freaking exposed rooftop where any yahoo with a searchlight or dime-store binocs or—I dunno, an open window, could—”
“All right, I’m going.” Regan chuckled, hopping up onto a nearby railing and walking with quick, sure steps along its length, gauging the angles of the next collapsed building, how they leaned against one another like fallen trees and bridged the gaps in the air. Like the streets below, the lines up here were uneven, irregular, and filled with pitfalls and steep drops, but at least there was no fire. That made all the difference. He sprinted forward and down a sharp incline of an exposed metal beam, then back up again, light feet in the air for the space of another held breath—savor the ones that don’t shake, the lightness—before connecting with rooftop tar again.
“So what happened back there?” Jay asked once he touched back down. Their exchanges were timed precisely after years of practice. Regan focused entirely on a sprint, a leap, a dodge, and their dialogue paused. Then it picked right back up where they’d left off without a hitch the moment he started breathing again. “You started out smooth. Then you kinda froze up. Lizard in t
he headlights. Something I said?”
“I dunno.” Regan’s light tone was forced, but the fondness wasn’t. “You say so much, it’s hard to tell.”
“Weak smokescreen. Something weirded you, my friend. Reveal.”
“It’s nothing. I was feeling great, that was a great run. But sometimes I just…” He glanced behind. Then above. Then shook his head, and looked straight forward. “I think too much, that’s all.”
“Hmm, hmm… You wanna know what I think?”
“I think you’re gonna tell me.”
“We hit the motherlode, my scaly friend. You got scads of classified SkEye data, and I got five years’ worth of… vital information.” He tried to keep a serious tone and failed, his laugh making some of the tension building in Regan’s chest recede. “Excuse me, it is vital information, just waiting to be distributed to pining multitudes in desperate need! One of the best nights of my life—I mean, since the big bubble went up.”
“So… happy, then?”
“On nights like this?” Regan could hear the quiet taps of his long fingers, and wondered if he was ghost-typing the words as he spoke, a thoughtful habit. “I’m the happiest nerd in Parole. Or at least the most famous.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
“Still, I couldn’t have done it alone. Much as it wounds me to admit.”
“Well, don’t admit it to anyone else.”
“You think I’d rat on my runtime partner? Give me some credit. You remain invisible, on the streets and in the system. Nobody knows your name, Mister Lizard.” A short pause. When Jay spoke again, his voice was a little slower and more deliberately casual. “Even though they could. I mean, if you wanted.”
Regan blew out threw his nostrils and cracked a smile. “I’m not real fun at parties, Jay.”
“And I’d never suggest—what, interacting with a whole bunch of people? In meatspace? Oh, God no, I’d never.” Jay tried for a dismissive snort, but it turned into a nervous laugh, like the thought alone made him anxious. “But it’s not like I’m your only friend.”
Life Within Parole Page 11
