Shattered Highways

by Tara N Hathcock

  It was quiet inside the alcove, secluded. It made her feel like she was standing in a chapel. All she could hear was the sound of the breeze rustling through the branches and the drying blooms drifting to the ground. She could hear a couple of birds chirping back and forth, although they wouldn’t be there much longer as the colder weather started to set in.

  Logan had stepped into the alcove with her but he still seemed lost in thought.

  “I found this place by accident,” she said offhandedly. “I was running and didn’t see the limb on the path. It was this huge, mangled piece of tree, I don’t know how I didn’t see it, and I about broke my leg when I came down on it. My ankle rolled and so did I, right into this little hole in the trees.”

  She grinned, thinking about what she must have looked like. At least there hadn’t been any witnesses.

  “I just lay here for awhile because I didn’t know if my ankle would hold me and looked around. It was night and the stars were out and it was almost like looking straight up a telescope, they were so bright.”

  She realized Logan was finally looking at her, all intense and focused, and she shrugged nervously. “Moral of the story? Don’t run if you can’t see. You might have to walk five miles home on a bum ankle.”

  That got a knowing smile out of him. “I’ve limped plenty of miles on a busted ankle myself, so I can sympathize.”

  He slung an easy arm around her shoulders and steered them out of the alcove and back down the trail.

  “You don’t really sound like you’re from here,” Logan started, apparently shaking off his uncustomary intensity. “You lack that certain...twang...that the locals have. But I can’t quite pin down the accent. Where’s home for you?”

  That small, nagging voice in her head that she’d managed to convince Logan was no threat started whispering. This is why we don’t have friends, she reminded herself wryly. Luckily, Quincy was quite comfortable redirecting conversation that tried to breech her walls.

  “Oh, a little bit of everywhere, really. What about you? You seem like a west coast kind of guy.”

  Logan laughed. “You’re not the first person to think so. I grew up along the coast in Oregon, actually. So west coast, but a little more north than most people usually think.”

  “Surfer?” she asked, suddenly dying to know if she was right. “Please tell me you surf.”

  This time he looked a little sheepish. “I do. Love it, actually. But I haven’t had a chance to do much surfing in years. The service took too much time and I was rarely in an area where surfing was available. Fishing, yes. But surfing, not so much.”

  So she’d been right about the surfing and she’d been right about the soldier bit. He’d mentioned it before in passing but never really followed up. He definitely had the build for it but something else didn’t quite fit.

  “I can’t imagine that hair is regulation.”

  He laughed. “You’re right about that.”

  He reached up and ran a hand through all that curly hair. “First thing I did when I mustered out was stop cutting it. You don’t know pain until the top of your head is blistered from digging trenches in the middle of an African summer.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at the visual. “No. I suspect that is a very special kind of pain.”

  He poked her in the side. “You’re too pale and skinny to be much use in the military, so I know you’ve never served. So what does life have in store for you Miss Quincy?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really know what I want to do. I like to read, so the library is a perfect fit for work. And auditing classes lets me experiment until I do know.”

  “I don’t know exactly what I want to do either, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take electrical engineering - for fun.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, considering. “There’s something about the math that relaxes me. It’s got a certain rhythm to it. It gives my brain something to focus on, which shuts it up for a little while.”

  Well that sounded weird. Which was why she usually tried not to say things like that. Why she cared if Logan thought she was weird, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want that to be what he remembered about today.

  “I mean, I just have trouble shutting my brain down sometimes. You know what I mean? Sometimes it just spins in circles and I need something else to focus on. Engineering helps with that.” Oh yeah. Much better.

  Logan didn’t reply, not at first. She replayed what she had just said and decided it didn’t sound too crazy. Didn’t everyone have trouble getting their minds to be quiet sometimes? Anyway, he could think what he liked. It wasn’t like they were really friends. And she would be leaving at some point anyway, so it shouldn’t matter.

  “How old are you?”

  The question came out of nowhere and caught her off-guard. She felt the pressure in her head jump and she shoved it back into place. That was a random leap with no possibility of a reply. She didn’t give that kind of information away. The less people knew, the better. She had survived thus far by keeping people at arm’s length and things like birthdays, hometowns, and family stayed hidden. She didn’t realize how long she had been silent until Logan bumped her lightly with his arm.

  “It’s not that tough of a question,” he said quietly. “I’m not trying to pry. But from the way you talk, I think you must be older than you look.”

  She took a breath and tried to recover her equilibrium. “You do know that’s not the kind of question you ask a girl, right?” She tried for a joke. “A lady never reveals a weakness.”

  Logan rolled his eyes. “I hardly think your age could be considered a weakness. You look younger than most of the co-eds around here but you’re taking graduate-level courses. So either you’re super smart and skipped more than one grade or you just look much, much younger than you are.”

  “You can attempt to turn the question into a compliment if you want, but I’m not breaking,” she insisted.

  “I’m 35,” he said. “See. It’s not so hard. I’m a 35-year old retired army lieutenant taking undergrad classes because I have no idea what I want to be if I’m not a soldier. But that’s okay.” He stretched his arms up and over his head and then rubbed at the back of his shoulder. “I can still keep up with 21-year olds on the Ultimate Frisbee field, although I’m pretty sure the aches are a little worse now than they were 15 years ago. And as much as you run, I would think you’re in better shape than almost anyone on this campus. So age doesn’t really mean anything.”

  “Then why do you want to know so bad?” she shot back, and he huffed in annoyance.

  “Why are you so paranoid? It’s really irritating. Give me something here. Your age, your hometown, whatever birthday you used on your college forms. Something.”

  She looked up at him. And up and up, until she could see all 6’4” of him. Seriously, the man was huge. And he wasn’t letting this go. She latched on to the last thing he had said.

  “Fine. September 18.” If he wanted a date so bad, he could have that one. Like he said, the random date she had used to get into her classes would work just fine. It was false, after all, so it couldn’t hurt her.

  He breathed a huge sigh, closed his eyes, and lifted his arms back up above his head. “Finally!” he yelled, loudly enough that the young couple pushing their baby in a stroller looked over at them. Overly theatrical, this one. She shook her head and started walking again, him matching her pace seconds later. He opened his mouth, presumably to ask another irritatingly personal question, but she cut him off at the pass.

  “So, why aren’t you a soldier anymore?” She caught him off-guard and she savored the moment, enjoying the fact that he seemed lost for words. “I mean, if you don’t know what you want to be other than a soldier, why aren’t you still one?”

  “That’s kind of a hard question to answer. One I don’t really like to talk about much,” he finally said, and she almost felt bad, watching as his eyes drifted down and his entire body seemed to coil in on itself
. But considering how much he had pushed her, not quite enough to let it drop.

  “Gee, I hope that wasn’t too personal. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” She smiled sweetly, letting the sarcasm hang thick in the air between them. The silence held a beat longer before he finally relaxed enough to shrug a shoulder.

  “You do have a point,” he admitted. He looked down at her and gave a little half smile. “I got hurt. A buddy got killed. The army gave me my walking papers. And now I have to find a new way to protect people.”

  Well. Now she really did feel bad. They kept walking and this time, Quincy let the silence linger. It really was a nice day, and Logan was nice company when he wasn’t pushing for details she didn’t feel like giving. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was bright and warm. She rolled her head to the side, letting the light breeze rustle her hair.

  “Frustra Deum naturamque non cooperantur,” she said absently, finally content for the first time since yesterday morning. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. An afternoon spent reading had gone a long way towards calming her down but it hadn’t relaxed her exactly. But in this small garden, surrounded by trees and flowers and hidden from the rest of the world, she finally felt safe. And then Logan had to go and ruin it.

  “What was that?” he asked curiously.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to say that so loud.”

  “But it was another language, right? What was it? I didn’t recognize it. Which is saying something, considering my deployment record.”

  It probably wasn’t a big deal to give him this one. Lots of people were bilingual. “It’s Latin. I said ‘God and nature do not work together in vain’. It seems appropriate today, yeah?”

  “Pretty.” He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know you could speak Latin. Are you fluent or do you just have quotes for special occasions?”

  She considered. “You know, I don’t really know. I’ve read a couple of Latin language books and it just kind of stuck, I guess. But I don’t get to use it very often, what with its status as a dead language and all.”

  Logan seemed to find this hard to believe. “You read a couple of books and it ‘just kind of stuck’? That’s...different.”

  “Not really,” she said, scrambling to dig her way back out. Why did she keep saying stuff like that to him? “I have a photographic memory. It’s why I do so well in weird classes like electrical engineering. Once I read it, it’s there. It’s pretty handy, actually.”

  “Sure, sure. I can see that,” he answered, but he seemed to have settled back into his earlier thoughtfulness. Here, but not here. She let it go, let him have his moment, just grateful that he wasn’t asking any more questions.

  The sun was starting to set by the time they made it back to the square proper. She decided to call it a day and turned to thank him for the walk and make her excuses but he beat her to it.

  “Thanks for letting me hijack your day. I’ve still got some homework to get done before the weekend runs out but maybe I’ll see you around?”

  She shook off the abrupt dismissal as best she could. “Oh, sure. I enjoyed it.” She held up the empty coffee cup she’d been carrying around. “And thanks for the coffee. I guess my weaknesses are pretty well-known.”

  Awkward. She gave a little wave, which felt lame the second she did it, and turned in the direction of her apartment, berating herself for letting him get in under her guard. So what if he had somewhere else he’d rather be? And why did she care if he thought her wave was lame?

  “Hey,” he yelled at her back.

  “Yeah?” She spun around too quickly and almost tripped over her own feet.

  “How would you say ‘See you tomorrow’ in Latin?” He had that stupid grin on his face again, albeit it slightly strained, the one that said he could convince a girl to do whatever he wanted and he knew it.

  “Cras autem videbo vos.” Yup, he definitely knew it.

  “Well alright then. ‘Cras autem videbo vos’”.

  She rolled her eyes. “That was terrible,” she said, but then she hesitated. “What’s tomorrow?”

  “Lunch at Delmar’s. Noon.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, turned, and sauntered away. Whistling. She sighed. So much trouble.

  Chapter 22

  Logan

  The whistling stopped as soon as he was sure he was out of Quincy’s line of sight. He kept walking as nonchalantly as possible as he slipped the phone out of his pocket and dialed.

  “I’m moving on her tomorrow,” he said by way of introduction.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I asked too many questions and she got cagey. We can’t risk her running again.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  Logan rolled it around in his head, looking for holes. “We’re having lunch tomorrow. I’ll offer to walk her home after and make sure we end up somewhere...private.”

  “Well,” his boss said after a moment. “It’s not great.”

  “No,” Logan agreed. “It’s not great. But it’s all I’ve got. She’s too alert and paranoid to attempt anything else and I don’t think we can afford to keep waiting.”

  “You’re right,” the other man agreed. “Losing her again isn’t an option. Do what you have to. But Lieutenant?”

  “Yeah?” Logan asked.

  “Call me as soon as it’s done. I want to be in the loop at all times,”

  “Yes sir,” Logan said, then ended the call.

  This was going much too fast, he knew. In this kind of sting, you needed more time to win over the target. He needed Quincy to trust him and it was pretty clear, even if she wanted to, she wasn’t there yet. The birthday she’d given him had clearly been a lie, which was fine. But the fact that she balked at even that was telling. Between his getting close and asking questions and what she had done at the train station, she was on the verge of bolting and he couldn’t allow that. Frankly, it would be best to take her tonight. But she wouldn’t go quietly and it would be harder to sneak a fighting woman out in the dead of night, when every little noise would be heard, than in the middle of the day with the busy sounds of a bustling weekend filling everyone’s ears. Tomorrow would have to do, even if he didn’t like it. And if he were being honest with himself, he really didn’t. Quincy was…..he searched for the right word. Not nice, certainly. She was too acerbic and cynical for that. But fun, maybe. She didn’t let him get away with the flirting and the good-natured pushiness he usually used to such striking effect. It wasn’t often he found a girl who could hold her own. Which was what made this all such a shame. At least tomorrow it would be over. Hopefully the guilt would disappear, too.

  Chapter 23

  Quincy

  Delmar’s was a small bistro on the outskirts of the commercial metro area that Quincy had heard of but never visited. As the hostess led her to a small table on the back patio, she wished she had countered Logan’s offer with a different restaurant. This wasn’t fancy, exactly, but it was certainly nicer than she was used to. She tried to smooth as many wrinkles out of her plaid button-up as she could when the hostess turned to pull out her chair, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause when she just made it worse. She sat and the hostess set a small menu down in front of her before excusing herself to see to the couple who had walked in behind Quincy. Before she left, she assured Quincy she would bring her guest out as soon as he arrived. Quincy told her he was big and annoying and she couldn’t miss him.

  It really was nice here, though, Quincy thought as she looked around. The bistro looked out over a commercial district full of small shops and boutiques. It had an almost bohemian look - trendy and free-spirited, all rolled into one. Quincy pulled out the book Logan had given her last week at the library as she looked around. It was a nice day, though a little cooler than the last few. Mr. Boatright had told her this was the true start of fall and every day would be a little cooler than the one before from here on out. She didn’t look forward to winter an
d the cold and snow the locals warned her was coming. It meant she would have to start taking the bus more often, and she hated taking the bus. A small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. The bus was so confining. She always felt trapped whenever she had to ride it. To her, the bus was a bad omen. It meant she had been found. It meant she was running. But today, she wasn’t running. She was having lunch with a giant gorilla of a man who was growing on her a little more every day. And she was early enough to enjoy the quiet and the ambiance before he showed up and shattered it. She dropped her backpack onto the ground beside her and propped her feet up in Logan’s chair, turning her attention to the book. Why Logan had thought she’d enjoy a book on small engine repair, she had no idea. He’d made himself scarce all week, only dropping into the library for a few minutes Tuesday evening. He had seemed antsy, she’d thought, constantly moving. He’d made himself comfortable at her desk like he’d been in the habit of doing since they met, but then he was up and prowling around the aisles. It had been very distracting, this constant nervous energy he’d been giving off. She finally asked him what his problem was and he’d mumbled something about putting off a paper on the most boring subject she’d ever heard of before shuffling off again. He’d come back from what was apparently a mission to find a source on British poets of the 17th century and dropped the book onto her lap. “I saw it and thought of you”, he’d said with a grin, trying to force a levity that wasn’t there. She had meant to ask how his ramble around the 17th century had brought him to a book on modern-day auto mechanics but a student had popped up out of nowhere at that exact moment, needing help citing a reference. By the time she’d gotten free, Logan had disappeared. There was a hastily-scrawled note propped next to her computer saying he had to run and she hadn’t seen him again until he showed up in the park yesterday. It all seemed out-of-character from what she’d seen of him so far. She’d been so busy dealing with the fallout from the attack and strung out from the headache that followed that she hadn’t paid as much attention as she should have. She wondered now, as she waded through terribly dry pages describing the various ways to start an engine, whether something was truly wrong. She didn’t know anything about his family. Maybe someone was sick?