“Yep. He deserved it though.” He seemed taut, overwrought. Tense. Like he was giving up something he counted as precious.
I thought hard. The ring stopped twirling. “Do you really think so?”
He smiled enigmatically, cutting his eyes to me. “Quit it, Nicki. You know the truth.”
It would have been a lie to state that I did not like Sam’s protective way of boosting my self-confidence. I enjoyed it, and felt angry at myself for doing so. No matter how I delayed thinking of the soon-to-be loss of Sam in my life, I couldn’t escape the momentary fleeting joys of being near him. Just feeling his presence right next to mine, in the deathly uncomfortable hospital seats gave me immense pleasure. Like sitting in the dayshine on a cool day; I felt it with every single sense. I loved hearing his methodical breathing- I could still hear it from when my ear was pressed against his back on the ride down from the roof. I loved smelling his heady aftershave; seeing his profile every time he glanced around as he kept watch. And I loved feeling warm as his arm encircled my shoulders, the leather of his jacket creaking softly with his every movement.
I didn’t want that moment to end, ever.
We sat like that for some time.
The hand paused, mid-stroke of my arm. "Are you ready?"
I'll never be ready. But I nodded and stuck my chin up bravely.
"Let's go." He held out his hand and I took it without a thought. The feel of his hand in mine was so good.
I smiled. Why couldn’t we just keep walking until we came to an exit sign? Why couldn’t we just leave and never return to this nightmarish white tiled place… We could get into his car and drive, picking a random town on the map. We could stay there, keeping to ourselves. We’d be fine together. Better than fine. Good. Great even. Oh Sam, I love your hand in mine. Never let it go.
I followed him down the hospital corridor, the reflective tile almost blinding me. The smell of sterilization was as thick as World City’s atmosphere. I teared up from the fumes.
We came to the designated room in the ECU (emergency care unit). Sam’s hand left mine and took a firm hold on my shoulder.
The patrollers in charge of David’s protection while here in Sky City stood up as soon as they saw us.
The head patroller introduced himself to me and the rest of his officers-turned-agents remained anonymous.
“He’s just been drugged up for the pain, so he might go in and out of consciousness right now. But his one request was to see you, and since he’s incapacitated, we thought it was a relatively harmless wish to grant. I’ve been helping him write up a confession. He’s holding back on signing it until after he sees you.”
Poor David, was all I could think. He was hooked up to so many wires and computational devices that he appeared to be a scientific experiment. He looked worse than death; so ill and discolored… if that was possible.
He was unconscious. Thank Amaranth.
We stood in the middle of the room for a minute. Sam still held my hand. I didn’t want that warm pressure on my fingers to stop. It meant so much to me.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Sam was respectful. I felt a small flash of annoyance. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t be so noble, and actually tell me how I could make whatever was bothering him better. Besides, I didn’t want him to leave me in this awful, cold, dim room. It was spotless and felt eerie, as if David had no soul to occupy the room properly. It was so sad, so empty. Tomblike.
All too soon, the hand let go of my shoulder and was gone. I was left with nothing to hold. Sam walked out of the room and guarded the door, leaving it open for my comfort and safety.
I surveyed the bare room. A chair was conveniently placed next to the hospital bed. I didn’t want to sit down; I didn’t want to be there. But I was. So I did.
"Hello, David." I said above hands clasped on the edge of his bed. I hope you stay unconscious until I’m gone.
No such luck. His eyes fluttered open. Skegg it. I squirmed and put my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him when he was awake.
~
He opened his eyes, his bright blue eyes, bleary with drugs coursing through his strong veins. He moved a finger toward me. I sighed and crunched down the discomfort, taking his limp hand in my own. He can’t hurt you. He’s half-conscious for Deka’s sake. Looking at him with a critical eye, knowing what I knew, I felt relieved. Somehow it was easier to let go of him now that it was obvious he did truly care for me at some point.
He tried to speak. I shook my head, placing a finger on his lips, smiling sadly. His eyes were wondrous; he was confused. I felt like laughing. It was his turn to feel jumbled; I certainly wasn’t going to do so any longer.
Whatever magic there had been between us was now dead and gone. I knew the truth about him, finally, and I wasn’t going to get sucked into the drama and near-death experiences that comprised his lifestyle.
“Natalie- you have to know-” His voice was hoarse; his lips dry.
I cut him off, unable to bear listening to him. "David- no. I believe you. I believe that you're a good guy at heart, and that circumstances have had a lot of influence over you. But I know the truth now. I am not coming back to you. But, I’ve been thinking about some things, and though you ruined my old life, you did take a bullet for me and I’m grateful."
"But-"
“No.” I felt strong; confident. “I like myself better now. Because of what you did; the chain of events you set into motion- I know who I am.” I laughed. “You’ve been very helpful.” I cupped his forehead in my palm, soothing him back down on the gurney. His eyelids fluttered. I whispered close to his ear. “I forgive you and sincerely wish you well.”
His hand twitched. The patroller stood quickly and placed a pen in David’s hand.
I found myself at a loss until I saw him scribbling his signature on the confession.
“I’m… sorry.” He managed through all of the tubes and wires. He looked so feeble. “I never lied about… how I felt.” Then he shuddered slightly and closed his eyes.
“That’s all?” I couldn’t help the bitter edge to my voice. We had the beach and the memory of perfection. I knew enough to know that David and I would never have that again. His birthmark or scar, I could never tell which, was still on his collarbone. I traced it with a light finger, pensively realizing that I didn’t care if I never found out the story behind it. “I’ll never see you again, David. Goodbye.”
I looked up at Sam's back, turned away. He was still giving me time. But I wanted no more of this- I was through.
In one last gesture of kindness, I smoothed the skin on David's forehead where he furrowed in his anxious sleep.
"You're safe here, David. Don't be afraid." He seemed to relax a bit at that.
My hand dropped to my side and I walked away. "Sam?"
"Do you need anything?" He checked down the halls for security.
"No.” I breathed, long and deep. It felt good to say it. I wasn’t much of a “no” person. I found I could get used to it. “I'm done here. But there is one more goodbye I’d like to make.”
He smiled. “I think I know what that is.”
I nodded.
"Alright; we're in the wind."
We walked down the hall. I stepped close to his side and as my eyes filled with moisture, I took hold of his jacket to find my way better. He took my arm and slowed a little for my comfort until I had my eyes under control. Then he quickly picked up the pace and before I knew it, we were out of there.
~
Tom had been moved to a safe-house via life-flight, though he was not in grave danger. I found myself missing him dreadfully as I climbed into Sam’s car, slamming the door.
"I miss Tom." I didn't expect so much emotion to flood my voice, but it did. "The old junker." I laughed, wiping quickly at the corner of my eye.
The vehicle’s engine rumbled to life and I leaned my head against the window, peering into the gray and cloudy sky. Finally, weather that reflected my mood.<
br />
"He's one of those people that get under your skin and stay there." Sam spoke with a thoughtful smile.
"In the best way possible,” I nodded.
We drove. The internment was over. The trial was over. The shoot-out was over. David was over. Tom was going to recover just fine. And Sam…
I sighed. Sam was over, too. Or he would be soon, once he took me home. Wherever that was. What would happen if he didn’t leave? I contemplated it, but I had known the answer to that question a long time ago.
He wasn’t mine. And until that changed… But it wouldn’t change. So I would keep on, stoic until he left. And then I’d deal with it when he was safely gone. I hated the thought of losing these moments, these conversations, pondering the world together, dodging bullets- okay that part I was fine with letting go of, but we had a bond. A bond that would not be easily broken. And when he left, it would snap and tear inside me and hurt so bad. I wanted him in my life, on a day-to-day basis. I would be satisfied with nothing less.
We drove in silence, the mile markers ticking away like dates on a calendar.
"I'm sorry." Abruptly, Sam spoke up like he had been thinking it for a while.
"Why?" For a wild moment, I thought he had read my mind.
"I thought it would help. To see him. For closure, I mean.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Because you loved him.”
"I did. And it did. Help with closure, I mean. At least, I guess it did. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. But hopefully the truth comes into the clear. Maybe it’ll help the prosecution.” I touched my cool fingers to my eyelids.
"I'm sorry."
"Me, too. It's kind of stupid for me to be upset about anything. There's nothing I can do to change the past. I can't go back and tell myself not to go to the beach that night." As I considered it, I knew I wouldn’t wish that on myself. Growth came with pain, and the pain had been worth it. Even now, as I prepared to let go of Sam, I wouldn’t change anything.
"Would you really want to, though? The way you went to the beach is important- everything you choose to do is important and tells you who you are. If you hadn't gone to the beach, you would be completely different. Only those who brave the beach and survive the storm tell the best stories about it."
I smiled. I liked it when he philosophized. He was such a proclaimer at heart. "Like there's a beach in everyone's life and if they confront it, they've mastered their destiny?"
His eyes crinkled lightly as he smiled. "In a way. Not to the rest of the world maybe, but you've proven something to yourself."
"What do you prove?" I encouraged; I could listen to him talk for hours.
"That you're not afraid."
I liked that. We sat for miles and miles and watched the trees go by and the wild grasses wave.
After the fields melded into desert, Sam decided to stop. We were out in a desolate expanse, nothing but the road before us and the road behind. The reddish dust coated the world as far as the eye could see.
We couldn’t keep going back and forth from planet to planet, it wasn’t practical. Sentiment isn’t exactly practical, but Doorway travel by shuttle craft was expensive. The next best thing was a holographic sense-memory synthesizer. It tapped into your brain’s memory stores and allowed you to revisit places that you’ve been.
As Sam set up the holographic display, I thought of Tom. They had probably changed his name by now, but he would always be Tom Silas to me. I would probably never see him again, since his own investigation (the one where he had received his first leg wound) was never resolved from twenty years ago. He was still a witness. I smiled sadly. He would always be a part of me, just like Myceania, David, Hecta, the Tumbler, and Sam. But that was over. Time to move on and grow roots somewhere else. Letting go was always the hardest part.
The hologram projector popped up the entire block for me, all in perfect visual clarity. I held the projector in my hand and smiled to myself- it even replicated the cloying atmosphere of World City to a T.
I would miss Tom’s safe-house, and all of the memories it held. Tom, Sam, and me. Maybe I would be back. Someday. But it would never be the same.
Sam gave me a moment and I used it wisely. I walked around inside, feeling the coolness of the enclosed cave-like space. My brain supplied the lingering smell of gun powder. At my feet, bullet casings littered the floor along with enclosed squares and other shapes of bright neon patroller tape. There were windows, but they were sparse. Only the level I had been given had windows on three sides. The place wasn't attractive by sleek, mod standards; it was weather-beaten and distressed. I liked it. I touched the bricks and paid special attention to the washed out weather-beaten boards that made up the interior, marveling at the softness that was so well disguised. Smiling at the dirty Nib stained mug in the sink; I whispered my own version of a thank you to the building, as if bidding farewell to a friend. It was the only thing left that retained Tom’s essence, or at least enough to feel like I was saying goodbye to him.
I stepped back through the door of the house and looked down at the device in my hands, willing it to disband the hologram.
The transmission ended; I was back in the middle of nowhere on Tera. It was like walking through a Doorway, except without the bluish haze to my vision and the electric tingles running up and down my skin.
I glanced at Sam, getting into the car. "You're not a Sam."
He glanced at me, amusedly. "I'm not?"
"No. Very much no." He was my night-watchman. My daydream champion. "Is it short for anything?"
"No. It just means my parents weren't overly creative." He chuckled.
I smiled.
"What do you think I should be called?"
"Anything but Sam. Maybe Ian?”
He laughed.
"Just drive." I teased him for laughing at me.
~
I sat there, staring out the window. I had been doing a lot of that in the last year. I cracked a smile. Looking at Sam, I silently imprinted his profile in my memory, storing it up in my memory. Every curve, every undulation was special to me and I was not going to let something like the rest of my life take this glow and turn it into a dull memory. I was going to remember it and bask in it forever, even when he had gone.
He glanced at me.
I didn’t look away, meeting his gaze head-on, shamelessly. I didn’t care what he thought.
"Something I really like about my job is all the travel. I feel free, you know? Just me and the road. And then whoever is with me, of course." He glanced meaningfully back at me again.
"Us and the road." I leaned my head against the strap and faced the solar star, burning brilliantly millions of miles away. The tires pounded across the uneven seams of the pavement and sang the familiar lullaby in my ear. A sense of peace settled into my fingers as I touched the window glass separating me from the natural. The body of the vehicle vibrated and amplified the hum of the pavement. The dayshine was lazy-warm and inviting.
Looking over at him, I curled my legs up underneath me and leaned back into the seat. "I like it. Just you and the road,” I dared.
His grin was infectious.
Just the road. I grinned at him, drumming my fingers on the console in reminiscence of my mechanical typewriter keys. Someday I am going to visit Exa and find the shop that Tom’s typewriter originated from. I dared once again, speaking up. “Have you ever felt that there was something really special going on, but you weren't sure if it was real?"
He looked over at me from the road, making eye contact. "Yes. Lately that’s been happening a lot.”
What does that mean? I laughed nervously. "There's a story in you, Sam."
He chuckled. "I like it when you say that."
"How much," I spoke airily, tapping the windowpane, trying to distract myself from the weight the question carried.
"How much?”
"How much do you like it?" I pretended carelessness, glancing at him.
"Oh, I like it a bunch.” He kept driv
ing, a strange expression on his face. He opened his mouth and it hung there, as if he forgot it was open. Then it shut decidedly. He spoke with that quiet reflection of his, “I like you, Natalie. So much. I like our conversations and the way we sit in silence. You always have something interesting to say. I like the way you sit in my car and run your fingers through your hair, staring out into the dayshine. I like the way you don't care what time it is. Because every moment is a lifetime to you and every lifetime a moment. You inspire me. I remember why I do the things I do.” He murmured the last part, rubbing his face.
Fortune's Detour: Prequel of the Deka Series by Abigail Schwaig Page 22
