by Daniel Gage
“If something bad was said, I deserved it,” Michael said. “Could we talk in private, Emma?”
Emma looked to Cam, who nodded.
“I’m going to find the cafeteria,” Cam said. “I’m starving.”
“Geez, that man can eat,” Emma said as Cam walked back toward the elevators.
“Not surprising, given what he is,” Michael said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Sometimes I forget how much you don’t know,” he said after a slight pause. “How much I’ve kept from you.”
She faced him fully now, while Michael still sat with his hands on his knees.
“Stop being so damn evasive,” Emma said.
“I know you can’t promise this, but please try not to judge me on the what until you know the why,” Michael said.
Her stomach sank into the pit of her abdomen, and suddenly, she wanted to run, hide, cry, anything. This entire case had been too much, too much death, loss, change. As gung ho as she was a couple of hours ago, she now feared she couldn’t handle any more. Her mind, her heart, she doubted they could take more abuse.
“It’s all my fault,” Michael said as he lowered his eyes, refusing to meet Emma’s stare. “The failed ops. The information leaks. I even turned over Unborns to them; not all of our contacts had been wrong. I’ve been working with the dealers.”
Fear was quickly replaced by fiery-hot rage as every muscle in her body tensed. Emma was ready to smash the world around her into oblivion, but all she could do to ease her sudden frustration was to take a few steps in one direction, then back to Michael.
“You’re kidding me!” she snarled, fighting to keep her voice down. “How could you? Lives were lost, and not just to birthright theft!”
When he didn’t answer, she continued.
“Tell me. Now. Why did you do this?” she demanded. “Tell me why I shouldn’t call Cam back and haul you off!”
Michael’s head tilted up, but he didn’t look at Emma. Instead, he looked across the hall to a window that looked into a room.
It took Emma a moment to realize what Michael meant by the gesture. She turned and looked, and within the room, she saw a solitary medical bed with a young girl lying on it. She was hooked up to several machines and appeared to be resting, but Emma quickly understood that she wasn’t just sleeping.
She stepped toward the room and saw the patient’s chart and name on the door. Emma didn’t have to look beyond the name, however, to understand what Michael meant.
The name read Anna Sapien.
“She’s my daughter,” Michael said. “Seven years old. Three years ago, she was diagnosed with leukemia.”
“Michael, I’m sorry,” Emma said. “But if you’re after my sympathy, you’re not getting it. One life isn’t worth the all ones that have been lost.”
“I’m not after sympathy,” he said, his tone harsher. “I just want you to know why I did what I did. You’re not a parent. I can’t expect understanding, let alone sympathy. And so you also understand why I want revenge.”
Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she let him continue.
“When Anna was diagnosed, the dealers contacted me,” he said. “They told me they would give her a new life, and all I had to do was help them. Her disease meant she’d be lucky to, well, live this long. So, of course, I agreed, with conditions. I would leak information and sabotage the ops from within, but with enough success so we didn’t get fired. And they had to limit the loss of life, and by no means could you be injured.”
He paused, as if he was hearing the deal for the first time. Or at least with new perspective.
“But Anna got worse, and a few days ago, she slipped into a coma,” Michael said. “She’s got a few days left at best. But there’s no Second-Life deal for her; there’s been no effort from the dealers to help her. It’s too late. They used me, lied to me. And I want them to pay for that.”
“Michael…” Emma said, but was at a loss for words.
She wanted to hate him, hit him, yell at him, anything to make him realize the damage he had done to their agency, to her career, and to those who had died. Even with his daughter dying in the next room, it didn’t justify his actions. And that was assuming he hadn’t received any other perks, such as additional funding from the dealers.
But the look on his face told her that there was nothing she could say or do to make him feel worse than he already did. She could see that Michael would give anything for his daughter, much like her parents had for her. They gave her the best education money could buy, and there was little doubt she wouldn’t be the person she was today if not for their effort and resources.
Yet, now they had a common enemy, and a potential chance for Emma to avenge those who had suffered at the hands of the dealers, especially Dealer X. Forgiveness didn’t have to be forever, and she could overlook his transgressions for the moment.
But only a moment.
“They’re in Paris,” Michael said. “The Shift Zone is there. I’m not sure what part, but I also know the window is in a few days. There isn’t much time.”
“That’s not much to go on,” Emma said.
“They had to work a deal with some Benefactor there to secure the location,” he said. “I don’t know more than that, but I know it’s somehow tied to your new friend. I suspect he’s the Unborn to the Benefactor, and the Benefactor is suffering from his recent actions.”
“Suffering?” Emma asked. “What the hell are you talking about? How does a Benefactor in Paris suffer from an Unborn in Boston?”
“The rumors are true, Emma,” Michael said.
“Oh,” Emma said as her eyes went wide. “Oh. Oh, that explains so much…”
“I know,” he said. “If you leave soon, you should be able to make it before your fake IDs are flagged. I do assume they fired you?”
“Laid off, but it’s coming,” she said. “Just before I came here.”
“You should have time, then,” he said. “I’ll run some interference. That is, if you want to finish this.”
“I do,” she said. “I need to.”
“They know you’re coming,” he said. “They’ll be ready. With Cam, you had the element of surprise at the airport. This time, they’ll be prepared for anything.”
“Good,” Emma said.
She turned to leave, but stopped after two steps.
Michael risked himself to tell her this, and there was a strong chance he would still suffer for betraying the Second-Life dealers. But he was now a shell of his former self, and it was clear that he wanted to atone for his sins.
Or it was an extremely elaborate ruse, in which case, none of it mattered. But even that didn’t make sense; Michael’s intel was their only lead, otherwise they might have never tracked the dealers to Europe. They could have spent their time looking around North America and missed it all by a few thousand miles.
She couldn’t hate him for doing what he had to do to save his little girl. And even if she got her job back and arrested him, Emma would take no joy in it.
“Michael, thank you,” she said. “If we get through this, I owe you a drink. Before I turn you in.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he just stared ahead, looking at his daughter.
**********
Cam rode the elevator back to the first floor, following the signs to the cafeteria. The nurse was still engrossed in her game, so he didn’t dare ask her for help. Thankfully, the wall directions were pretty obvious.
As he passed a restroom Cam moved to relieve himself, but stopped short as a bustle of commotion emitted down the hall. He watched as man in scrubs over a long-sleeved shirt rounded a corner, flanked by what looked like doctors and nurses. The man was maybe in his mid-forties, and he carried himself with an air of pride and confidence that Cam felt bordered on cockiness.
“Excellent work, Doctor,” one of the older gentlemen said as he walked in the man’s wake. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
> “Thanks,” the man said, though it sounded more like an acknowledgment of his expertise, and not of a job well done.
Cam pushed the door open and entered the restroom, but within seconds, the heralded man in scrubs followed. He took a urinal near Cam’s, but didn’t so much as acknowledge that anyone else was in the same area.
Cam finished and moved to wash his hands, reaching the row of sinks the same time the man did. He didn’t want to pay him any attention, but his eyes were drawn to him as the man rolled up his sleeves to clean up.
Right there, on his outer forearm, was what looked to be a tattoo of strange writing. And even though Cam’s was much more faded and broken, it looked exactly like Cam’s birthmark.
“Nice tattoo,” Cam said. “What does it say?”
The man froze, letting the water pour over his hands well beyond the point of rinsing.
Eventually, he removed his hands and shut off the water, and gradually turned his stare to Cam.
“It’s a scar,” he said. “Doesn’t say anything. And it’s none of your business.”
Cam held up his hands in a gesture of compliance, and paid the man no attention as he dried his hands and stormed to the exit.
“I only ask,” Cam said as the man pushed open the door, “because I have one too. On my back.”
The man froze and again turned to Cam, his eyes wide. He looked at Cam as if it were for the first time, seeing him as what he really was.
“You’re … no,” the man said. “No. You’re not. Stay away from me, got it?”
Then the man disappeared, and when Cam exited the restroom, he was nowhere to be found.
Until now, he thought his birthmark was unique, perhaps a result of the accident and his premature birth. It was always a constant reminder of what his parents gave up for him to exist, and the guilt cut deep whenever he saw it in the mirror. He knew it wasn’t rational to feel responsible for the car accident since he wasn’t even born, but it stuck with him.
But seeing it on someone else, and the man’s panicked reaction to Cam saying he had a similar mark made him think twice about it. Was it still something he had been born with, or did he get it as a tattoo before he could remember? If so, why would someone do that to an infant?
The more horrifying thought was how he could be born with such a mark, if it wasn’t a scar or from being premature. And why was that man so off-put by Cam’s observation?
And now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow tied to his new ability to see time slow down, and this whole Second-Life business.
“Yet another question for Emma,” he muttered as he resumed his walk to the cafeteria, even though his appetite wasn’t what it had been a few minutes ago.
CHAPTER 26
“Paris?” Cam asked as he and Emma left the hospital.
“Yeah, and we don’t have long to get there,” she said. “We’ll have to fly commercial; hopefully we can get seats. You have a passport?”
“Well, yes,” Cam said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’ve only been to Canada.”
“So?” Emma asked. “It’s valid for any country. You know that, right?”
“Yes, of course I know that,” Cam replied. “But I drove there.”
Emma looked at Cam as she deciphered his wording, figuring out just what he meant.
“Cam, you said you haven’t flown before, but why is that?” she asked.
He paused a moment before answering, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“It scares the crap out of me.”
“You ran off a building fifty stories above the ground, but you’re afraid of flying?” she asked, taken aback.
“Never said it was rational,” he grumbled.
“Geez, are you going to back out because we’ll be soaring over an ocean?” Emma asked.
“No, of course not!” he said.
Then he saw the massive grin on her face.
“Oh, shut up,” he said with a grin of his own. “I’ll get us a cab.”
**********
During the ride to the airport, Cam did his best to put on a brave front, but the way he kept looking around and drumming his fingers on his knee told Emma that he was a bundle of tension. The man had been shot at more times in the past week than most in their whole lives, and he never showed an ounce of fear.
Getting on a plane seemed to be his limit, yet she didn’t doubt for a moment he wouldn’t let a fear of flying stop him.
However, Emma was having trouble of her own. She couldn’t remember when she had ever booked her own flight, let alone flown on her own dime.
Then a sobering memory occurred as she realized when the last time she had flown on her own had been. It was twelve years ago, when she flew home to England for her father’s funeral. And even then, the flight was booked for her, as the entire ordeal was a whirlwind of grief, family, and rushing back to her job.
Maybe it was a good thing she got fired. Now she had to look at herself in the mirror and confront her life, and to stop hiding behind a desk and badge.
But first, Paris.
They arrived at the airport easily enough despite the traffic, but once inside the terminal, Emma felt lost. People darted about in an attempt to make their flights or find ground transportation. A few lucky travelers were greeted or kissed goodbye by their loved ones, but that seemed to be a rarity in a place where everyone was running late.
The noise and chaos was deafening, with most of the temporary inhabitants of the terminal using automated kiosks to aid in their travels. They checked bags, printed passes, and even went through security without the aid of another human being.
However, this was all something Emma had had done for her ahead of time during her previous travels. She didn’t even know how to go about buying an international ticket, let alone what to do next. She scanned around and found an airline name she recognized, and prayed they flew to France.
She approached the desk with Cam behind her, where a lone employee looked more than a little bored. She wore a clean-pressed white shirt and tie, with a nametag that read “Suzanne.”
“Hi,” Emma said as she reached the counter. “Can you help me?”
The woman behind the desk looked up, a startled look on her face. She blinked twice before she spoke.
“Oh. Oh, of course,” Suzanne said. “It’s just, you know, with everything automated these days … anyway, what do you need?”
“I need to book a flight for two to Paris,” Emma said. “Soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Suzanne said. “Um. One moment …”
As she typed on her computer, the woman looked puzzled, as if she hadn’t had to use her workstation in some time to assist a customer.
“Okay, so, we have a flight leaving this evening, two seats in coach,” she said as she looked back to Emma. Her eyes darted between Emma and Cam for a second before she spoke again. “But the seats aren’t together; is that okay?”
“Yeah, why—oh, that’s not a problem, we don’t—” Emma said, but the woman cut her off with a wink.
“It’s all right; plenty of people run off on random vacations,” Suzanne said with a small smile. “You’re lucky, he’s cute. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
It was then Emma realized that her face had turned red, and she could only imagine what sort of impression she was giving the airline employee. And poor Cam could probably only catch a few words of the conversation with all the ambient noise of the busy airport drowning out their words. But what he could hear likely didn’t sound good.
“Are you married?” Suzanne pressed with a hint of mischief in her eye. “Is he married? Are you two running away?”
“No, no, it’s not—”
“Don’t worry,” Suzanne said. “We don’t disclose travel reasons. But I have to say, I’m quite jealous …”
“How much for the tickets?” Emma asked, trying desperately to change the subject.
“Right, of course,” Suzanne said with a wink. �
��I’ll just need to see your IDs.”
Emma passed her one of her rarely used aliases, and nudged Cam to get his attention.
“Your ID,” Emma said.
Cam pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed over his ID card. “Everything good? She’s whispering a lot.”
“It’s fine,” she snapped as she turned back to Suzanne.
Suzanne took the cards and worked the keyboard a bit more, then a nearby printer spat out their passes. She returned them to Emma, her grin growing by the second.
“You two have fun,” Suzanne said.
Emma snatched them with a forced smile.
“Thanks,” she said through clenched teeth. She grabbed Cam by the arm, unable to get away from the airline employee fast enough.
She dragged Cam all the way to the security checkpoint, where she finally let go of his bicep.
“What the hell was that?” Cam asked as he rubbed his upper arm.
“Nothing,” Emma said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But all that whispering, it was weird,” he said. “Is it that tough to book a flight?”
She lowered her head and covered her eyes, almost too embarrassed to mention it.
“She thought we were secret lovers running away together,” Emma mumbled.
Instead of laughing or poking fun, Cam seemed to approve of the thought.
“That makes sense,” he said. “Believable cover, if people are looking for you to travel alone or something.”
Emma looked up at him and blinked repeatedly.
“Wait,” Cam said. “She thought that? It wasn’t your idea?”
“No,” she said. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Oh, well, let’s remember to send her a thank you basket for giving us a good cover story,” he said with a shrug.
Emma mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that before, and she actually wondered why she hadn’t. She had used the ruse of romance with Michael on more than one occasion, and it didn’t faze her in the slightest. But to spring that on Cam felt different, somehow.
Was it because he was new to this? Or because she had known Michael for so long, she felt comfortable with him? But the potential third reason scared her the most, and it wasn’t something she was willing to confront right now.
