by Aral Bereux
So you are a watcher, thought as much.
‘You just left! Up and walked away. So typical of you! You know Daniel’s disappeared too, or have you two been talking? Fuck, Julianna. You have no idea do you, you inconsiderate, insolent girl.’
She leaned the comms against the mirror. He continued his rant at his own reflection while she dressed.
‘Caden’s been moody as all fuck. He’s pissed, you know? Rightfully so, we thought you were dead! He’s had a hard week with everything. Devo’s missing too. We were planning your fucking memorial up until an hour ago!’
She pulled her sweater over her breasts and fixed it at the bottom.
‘Take a breath, Issy,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ll go see him now if you tell me where he is. Smooth things over with him,’ she said quietly.
‘Smooth things over? Smooth things over, we thought you were fucking dead!’
She finished dressing and faced the comms again. His eyes softened. She could hear the worry in his voice.
‘I’m sorry about the memorial shit.’ She said quietly, feeling a lump in the pit of her stomach better known as guilt.
‘You look like shit,’ he said. ‘He’s pulling a night shift in Sector One.’
She scoffed at the notion of rostered shifts during a war.
‘I’m sorry, Issy.’ She met with the eyes staring back at her. ‘But what else should I say? All the bullshit—’
The comms flicked off, leaving her with her own reflection, like so many times in the past. She slipped it into her pocket and rubbed at her panda eyes, moving the eyeliner around until she was happy with the girl staring back in the mirror. She wanted the smell of Club Star off her, the smell of boss man too, but there was no water. He’d touched her too many times tonight. It was the last thing she wanted Caden to sense.
EPILOGUE
14th May, 2018, 2300 hours.
Rebel Head Quarters, Sector #1
The Militia knew nothing of the elaborate Rebellion coalition in Sector One.
Rebels didn’t have any idea, she thought.
The center where she stood was bright and purposeful. Not dissimilar to Central Command, before it exploded into the stratosphere. Julianna had swapped her clothes for the uniform, wanting to blend in when she arrived at the building; which on the outside was as deceptive as the safe house had been.
She dressed in a side street before wheeling her bike to a gate. They’d led her to an underground basement, where cars and bikes were parked in neat rows. A security officer swiped her in with his gate pass, to an elevator, which took her to where she stood now. He mentioned the general was expecting her arrival.
What a risk, but clever; Rebel HQ in the middle of Sector One, she thought. The general’s expecting me, he doesn’t normally meet and greet.
Men and women rushed around, talking in whispers, exchanging paperwork, crypts, and jokes, occasionally glancing in the direction of the new girl in uniform, with her hair pulled back, sporting no makeup. They were all in senior uniform. There were no grunts. She felt inappropriate in the clean environment, though her uniform told those staring at her; she was a senior to match their authority.
Julianna circled in her place, on the ground floor. Above, a tier encircled the lower floor. From the top, those standing had view of everyone coming and going. The area was painted a crisp white with strips of grey to highlight the architraves and staircases. It was a stark contrast from her safe house.
She stepped back to admire the area. She remembered Hensley falling forward and dying in her arms. All the friends she had lost, Devo too, apparently. Who the hell knew where that girl ended?
The rising anger burnt inside her, as she considered the stairs leading to the higher level. She wondered if Isis sat up in an office, watching. She wondered if Caden sat with him. This safe place had existed the entire time, and people had sacrificed their lives for its opulent luxury, without the knowledge or promise of sharing it.
She was aware of the presence standing behind her. She smelled him, and felt his gaze on her back. She glanced over her shoulder, in his direction. She couldn’t help herself. He held his arms wide for an embrace, taking her close to his clean uniform. He held her tightly against his chest lifting her from her feet and swinging her gently. Julianna squeezed him back, reluctantly pulling away to study the fresh haircut and the closely shaven beard. His smile widened.
Julianna noticed the new rank on his epilate. He wore the black cap and the black grunt’s uniform but tell-tale signs of his rank hung around his neck with the Rebellion’s gold crest on a chain. GENERAL MADISON was sewn into his uniform pocket.
When did they get the time for embroidery? She found herself annoyed.
‘We thought we’d seen the last of you,’ he said.
She managed a smile. ‘Takes more than a war and a fire, General Madison.’
‘J Rae, c’mon.’ He looked at his shuffling feet before returning to her steely glare. ‘They have a promotion for you. Got another uniform that says Commander on it.’
‘Don’t want it.’ Julianna looked at those watching. She expected Isis ran a tight ship in the building, and she was messing with the authority by not saluting a general.
He lifted his cap, pushed back his hair and returned it onto his head.
‘Funny how this place is away from the front lines.’
His eyes softened, he didn’t bite. She was grateful for his kindly restraint.
‘Like it or not, Commander, you’re more than a foot soldier now. And thank you for wearing the uniform, it suits you.’
‘Like I said, I don’t want a title that gives me access to the by-invitation-only club, and I’m wearing the uniform because it’s clean. I’m just dropping in for a social, then I’ll be on my way again.’
‘On your way again? Julianna, look around, we can do a lot from here.’
His eye caught a pretty brunette’s attention on the top tier, nodding down at him.
‘Excuse me,’ he nodded over his shoulder to a set of white doors behind them. ‘Follow it down, first door on your left. There’s fresh uniform, your own living quarters…don’t be so quick to leave. I’ve missed your belligerence, Commander Rae.’
Her smile was weak as he lingered over her, his hand resting on her forearm. She nodded again, convincing him more. He wasn’t going to talk her out of leaving, but he wasn’t hiding his sadness either.
The brunette called his name again in a hushed, apologetic voice. Her eyes lowered to the ground, shying away from his rank. Julianna wasn’t surprised. The all-black uniform with the four stripes on his shoulders overshadowed one of lesser rank and reputation – and his reputation does precede him, she thought. While she accepted the arrogance and strength he exuded as he climbed the white staircase, she caught herself admiring his swagger.
He glanced down from the top platform. The same Caden she’d met in the cells appeared to sneak a sly wink. It was just a uniform, he was still Caden Madison. He walked to the brunette with the clipboard, nodded, spoke quiet words Julianna couldn’t hear, signed documents; comms were handed over and placed in his pocket, and the officer left his side so he could lean over the railing to watch her.
Julianna knew his thin lipped expression. She’d seen it enough times now to know he was contemplating her – and not in a polite way.
Our last conversation wasn’t exactly cuddles and roses, and Isis admitted they thought I was dead.
Had they mourned me, she wondered. Dubious, she thought.
Julianna followed his gaze over her shoulder. Double doors at the corner of the control room beckoned, at his request. A sign above them stated SENIOR LIVING QUARTERS. It stirred her body into exhaustion. Caden walked into an office to leave her alone.
The doors were light to push through, in contrast to their size. She followed his directions, walking slowly along the wide hallway, carpeted in thick white carpet until she found her door with COMMANDER J. E. RAE embossed into a black plate, hanging on the doo
r above her head.
She traced the thick lettering with her fingertips, feeling each bump, and stopping on her surname, before pushing down on the door handle. The door opened quietly, to an area rich with the scent of a warm fire burning, and the perfume of freshly cut flowers. The large, airy space, with its floorboards underfoot and rich rugs and leather sofas, offered opulent comfort.
Julianna found the bedroom off to the side with its wide door inviting her in. The fresh uniform he’d mentioned rested across a large bed, thick with blankets and cushions.
She clutched at the uniform, eyeing the bathroom through its door, with the freshly cut flowers she could smell, sitting in a vase in the center of the marbled counter, feeling no guilt for wanting to feel clean.
The clothes draped over the bathroom rack and the taps spun effortlessly. The water splashed over her naked body, echoing against the marbled tiles. The remnants of blood and dirt slipped from her skin. The sting of left-over cuts from the tunnel’s skirmish filled her with guilt. She raised her face into the spraying water, squeezing her eyes shut to block the scattering of images flashing from her memory.
Bas wasn’t mentioned, but he seems at ease.
She opened her eyes to reach for the shampoo – another luxury. The thick, velvety soap ran between her fingers and down her body. Bastiaan returned, barking orders in a camp, from somewhere in-country. Caden was alive, Daniel was somewhere, and her mother was dead. The promise she made herself to find Bas, was one she intended on keeping.
She spun the taps again until the water stopped, and reached past the screen of frosted glass, for a towel.
One night’s sleep; she promised herself, as she wrapped the thick towel around her chest. Nothing more, just one night and then I’ll hunt for Bastiaan.
The rug was soft under her bare toes, the temptation was great, and to her own disgust, she was already comfortable. Even though the clean clothes were Rebel issued, they were soft. She slipped on the singlet, lifting its edge to smell its freshly washed material.
Caden bent over the open fire, hastily throwing more wood onto it. It was a sharp contrast to the battle in the tunnels. Julianna stepped into the middle of the room to feel the warmth, which charmed her.
‘You forget, don’t you? How it is to feel clean again, until you have the creature comforts back,’ he straightened and brushed his hands together.
‘Smoke and mirrors,’ she said. ‘Any word on Bastiaan?’
His expression changed, his smile disappeared. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not really, but I’m hopeful. He’s a Lieutenant in the Militia, escaped with Taris and your mother, some other high ranks.’
‘You don’t know for sure he’s Militia.’
‘I do know for sure, but I’m working on it,’
Julianna wandered over to the bureau beside the entrance. Her footsteps were quiet against the rugs covering the floor. He watched from his spot in front of the fire.
‘It’s my burden Julianna, not yours. Not your fault.’
‘Good. I have enough of my own that needs sorting.’ She ran her fingers along the wood grain. ‘We lost a lot of good people in the attacks.’
‘We’re organizing a memorial for them – for a few days’ time. We were holding off, in case we needed to add you to the list of names. Maybe you should stay and attend, out of respect.’
Julianna looked at a slogan on the wall art, screaming out DO WE FEAR OUR ENEMIES MORE THAN WE LOVE OUR CHILDREN?
‘Out of respect?’ she paused. ‘Don’t pull that bullshit with me,’ she said. ‘Where were you?’
‘I was busy with other things.’
She gasped. ‘Busy doing what? Having a fucking shower! I thought you were dead! I turn up, and you’re gone, and everyone’s tight lipped about the whole deal-i-o’
‘What gives you the right to judge?’
She shook her head reverently. ‘What gives you the right to question me? You disappeared as much as I did.’
‘You’re still ignorant of some things, Julianna,’ he said and raised a pointed finger at her. ‘I would have been there if it was at all possible!’ His eyes turned black.
She shook her head with a curled lip and dismissed his expression, turning her back to admire more artwork.
‘You freaking know that!’
‘I don’t presume to know anything about you.’ she waved her hand madly around the room. ‘All of this…’ she danced around the living room, towards the sliding door. It opened under her command, without her touching its clean glass, and walked into the contained garden, pristine from hydroponic monitoring, with Caden storming after her.
The air was cold and stung as it clung to her skin. Julianna took a deep breath and with it came his cigarette smoke. She walked to the end of the path where small trees bordered it. The technology was incredible. She quietly applauded its existence in the sectors, and how well hidden it was. The alternate world of the Militia – she shot him another, unapologetic glance while he continued to hold back, having his own space, giving her the distance she craved.
‘It really pissed you off, didn’t it?’ she said.
He looked through the smoke he exhaled. The path she was on had a few more steps to take. He started to edge into her space.
‘It really pissed you off when you discovered I’m bound to Taris?’
He lowered his cap over his head at the first sign of the false rain spraying. ‘Yeah, it pissed me off.’ he raised his arms in frustration. ‘The very fact has caused nothing but grief. It got Bas detained, it got you almost killed how many times; I don’t know I’ve lost count – you should have told me!’ he waited for an answer. ‘What do...what in hell do you expect?’
‘Don’t! You have your secrets,’ she pointed rudely at his hands entwined on his head, ‘Councilor.’
‘Just say it. Whatever you’ve got to say, just freaking say it.’
‘You don’t need to blame me for Bastiaan!’
Caden walked down the sloping path ahead of her, caught at its narrow end. If they were in the woods she supposed they would have stormed about for hours like this, but the path was short. The irony was they couldn’t escape each other. He’d backed himself into a corner.
She watched him put his hands to his head again. He stopped and looked sideways at her as she cautiously approached.
‘I’m doing that without your help,’ she said quietly.
He looked out to the trees. He shook his head. He dropped his hands, resting them on his hips and concentrated on the only thing he could – smoking his cigarette and staring at the manicured gardens. He sucked furiously and drew in what smoke escaped.
‘You were wrong in not telling me,’ he said calmly. ‘You’re so busy fighting, J Rae, you can’t even see your own friends.’
‘I pissed you off with something I never asked for. You let Taris stab me. How is that a fair fight?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re blaming me for that? Is this seriously your reason for the hostility? You’re freaking blaming me for his attack. Take a good look at yourself.’
It was her turn to stand silent in his brooding glare.
‘You’re being a bitch.’ Caden said blankly.
‘You’re behavior hasn’t exactly been reproachable. You won’t even tell me where my father is.’ The mist thickened around her towel-dried hair, making the ends drip. She pushed it behind her shoulders.
He took another suck of his cigarette. He glared at her again. ‘And you’ve never lied to protect someone you cared for?’
‘Who are you lying for and who are you protecting, huh?’
The venom abandoned her words. His refusal to bite back lulled her into guilt. She’d pushed too hard. Her heart started to sink.
Sorry.
He put the cigarette to his parted lips and she waited for his silence to end. Would he walk out or would he stay – she wanted him to stay. The anger between them upset her – not after the week they both had. Not after they thought the other was dead; and she
felt ashamed. She took a step closer as he flicked the spent cigarette into the garden.
I’m sorry.
He nodded and beckoned her with his open arms. They rested comfortably over her shoulders in a loose embrace, which allowed them to feel close again. She felt his kiss on top of her head and his chin rest in her wet hair.
‘I want you to trust me,’ he whispered. ‘Trust I’ll tell you everything when I can. No fighting, not anymore, not tonight – and I don’t blame you for Bastiaan.’
She looked up. ‘I don’t blame you either. Just trying to hurt you.’
Caden agreed. ‘Indeed. You can be very cruel.’
He bent his neck to kiss her, and she let him. He kissed her deeply. Her hands rested on his chest as his lips pressed harder against hers. Caden slipped his fingers along her sides until one finished tipping her cheek gently. His other hand rested over hers, nudging them down to his belt.
Remaining close, he drew his lips away.
‘I can’t stay here, Caden.’
‘I know you’re feeling that right now.’ he led her along the path with his hand firmly taking hers, and when she stopped, he stopped. ‘I’ll settle for what you can give me, and later we can talk about you staying.’ He nipped at her lips and she pulled gently away. ‘You have no idea the grief you caused us this week. We thought you were dead, Miss Rae.’
She lowered her head. Caden gently pulled her with him as he stepped back into the warm open room with the smoke curling over the fire. The smell of the burning wood incensed her to their in-country time together, the memories not so bad.
‘We can talk now,’ she offered in guilt.
Caden scratched at his beard and when he looked at her, a frown creased his brow. ‘You need to consider the ramifications that you’ve been avoiding.’
‘Avoiding?’
The door behind them slid closed, obeying his thoughts.
‘You’re a watcher, Julianna. A full-blooded watcher at that. It’s a rare thing in this world, and without training and a mentor to help you...’
