Comeback

by Doranna Durgin

  The others from the crowd were drifting away, throwing the occasional frown back toward Selena and Dobry. Two men remained behind, pointedly waiting for the interlopers to move to the bus "station." They didn't appear to be armed, but Selena wasn't making any assumptions.

  Besides, they didn't need to be armed. Neither Selena nor Dobry had any welcome to wear out in this place. She watched a boy darting between the stone buildings of the town's edge and sighed. All those months ago, she had saved an Oguzka boy not that much older than he.

  Dobry sat cross-legged by the stones and set the aluminum suitcase before him, examining the warped latches and then, with effort, getting them open. Selena didn't ask what he'd do if they didn't close again. Beg of her some duct tape, no doubt. She let her pack thump to the ground with a puff of gritty dust.

  "Any ideas?" Dobry said, and his voice was studiously neutral. He'd pulled his cell phone out and set it by the briefcase, as though it might inspire him. It drew his attention often as he examined the melted, hardened contents of the case. The rubbery face-molding material, especially, had been first activated by the heat and then set by it, forever cast in amorphous nonsense globs.

  "Thanks for that," Selena said, meaning the lack of blame in his tone. Dammit, this whole Agency thing was supposed to be about staying undercover, not providing her own identity; she just hadn't thought—

  He seemed to understand what she meant; he only shrugged slightly in acknowledgment before scowling at a cake of useless skin dye. She sighed and added, "And no, not at the moment. They're antsy about something, which makes me think there's been activity in the area before we got here. What it has to do with us, I don't know."

  "Maybe they've had their quota of activity, too." Dobry pushed aside a jumbled mass of melted synthetic hair with one thick finger. "It's still early morning—sounds like we've got time before the bus gets here." He left the ruined supplies for a moment, to contemplate his cell phone.

  Making a decision, Selena would have said. About calling the station for a ride? They already knew communications might not be secure…best to take the bus, or to call Allori's office and have Bonita send someone out. Otherwise, the way the Suwan buses ran, they'd have plenty of time to wait. Time enough to get thirsty, with all their water boiled off back in the car. She felt in her coat, and her hands found the familiar shape of the fizzy-water bottle. Not enough to last them…but something she could ask to have refilled, even if with kvass.

  Time enough for the day to get warm, too, a beautiful clear fall day that made her long for a drive in the North American country in the Adirondacks, changing leaves on all sides. She slipped the coat off, aware that her cargos and fatigue-style shirt weren't nearly loose enough to suit the Oguzka sensibility.

  And then Dobry's words struck her, the sense of them hitting home—the way he'd been playing on the magistrate's pronouncement—we've filled our quota for the day.

  The unwitting implication that there had been others.

  Cole.

  "It's Cole!" she said to Dobry, startling him with her sudden vehemence.

  He looked up with an expression that was already skeptical. "What's Cole?"

  "Cole and Aymal—their quota! I said they were antsy—maybe they do have good reason. Cole and Aymal are here—now."

  "You know," Dobry mentioned, so casually she knew it was going to be a hit, "your belief that he was here in the first place was based on nothing more than gut feeling. You're just piling gut feeling on top of gut feeling. I have to say it…I'm getting indigestion."

  Yeah, a hit. "And just when we were working so well together," Selena said, and sighed dramatically. "Then again, that's why they sent me, isn't it? Because I'm the one most likely to track him down on a gut feeling?"

  Dour turned to sour. "And look where it's gotten us."

  "We're not done yet," she told him grimly. She looked over the town—small stone houses set close together in the oldest parts of the town and straggling near the edges; the marketplace, just within view at the other end of this short main street. People pretending to be busy between here and there, but still casting surreptitious looks at the rejected visitors. People who might listen, if they had a chance. Might believe her, if they were even allowed to hear her.

  With a few long strides, she defied gravity right up the side of the bus stop rock formation. Only four feet up, this one…but enough to make her impossible to miss. She stood a long, defiant moment—long enough for Dobry to scramble to his feet and back slightly away, probably desperately wishing for a shirt that said I'm so not with Stupid.

  Tough luck for him. Cole and Aymal were here, and Selena wasn't going fail them. Maybe Dobry was right; maybe her nerves were too permanently stirred up for her to work in the field. Didn't matter…she hadn't expected to. But she'd been given this one chance…this one crucial, important job. And if she failed, it wouldn't be because she had meekly walked away.

  "My name is Selena Shaw Jones!" she shouted. "I'm looking for Cole Jones!"

  And oh, she was getting attention, all right. A small group of women off to the side, a gaggle of pointing and giggling children, and there, down the main street, two men coming toward her with much purpose in their strides. "He's my husband! We're working for the same thing—a world safe from terrorists! Go ask him yourself!" Damn, those men were moving fast. Salwar kameeze and turbans, dignity and flowing cloth—very much beyond intimidating. "My name is Selena Shaw Jones—" still loud, but not quite the need to shout "—and I'm looking for Cole Jones! I'm his wife! Go ask him! Ask him if he wants to talk to me—"

  "Good God, Selena." Dobry backed another step. "They'll never let us just walk away after this."

  She turned on him, her balance absolute at the top of the rock. "I don't want to walk away, Dobry. He's here, and we gain nothing by leaving!"

  "The chance to try again," he said pointedly.

  "You think TRAMMEL will give us that opportunity?"

  She glared down at him. "Well, a hearty go team for you—because I sure as hell don't." The men were closing in, annoyed and already gesturing at her to get down from the rock. "My name is Selena Shaw Jones—tell him that! Tell him Shaw Jones!" He'd know it was no ruse, not with that emphasis.

  The men were there, right there—they could have yanked her feet out from under her if they wanted—but they weren't quite ready to do that yet. Not a cruel people, these Oguzkans…just stubborn. They'd had to be, to keep so much independence.

  Selena was stubborn, too. She'd had to be, to survive at Tafiq Ashurbeyli's hands. The look she gave the two men was a dare—I dare you to believe me. I dare you to do ask him.

  "I know he's here somewhere," she told them, her voice quiet and a little harsh after the shouting.

  "Come down," one of them said, and gestured at her peremptorily.

  "I'm right where I was told to be." She crossed her arms. "And if you don't make ultimatums, you won't be embarrassed when they don't work. An early lesson in diplomacy. I share it with you freely."

  "Selena…" Dobry had gone beyond annoyed and into distinctly uneasy.

  She lifted her head, looking out on the women who gathered around the edges of the buildings. "My name is Selena Shaw Jones! Cole Jones is my husband! He's hurt, and my place is at his side!"

  One of the men reached for her ankle; she sidestepped him, but not by much. She could have stomped his hand…didn't. This would only work so long as she didn't draw blood. "My name is Selena Shaw Jones! Last winter I shot two Kemenis here—I fought the Kemenis at the capitol! I'm on your side, and I want to see my husband!"

  At that they did grab her. One man wrapped his arms around her calves and pulled her off balance; another yank toppled her. And of all the things she could have done in response—a kick in the throat, a jab to the eye, a fist to the nose with all her falling weight behind it, a twist to freedom—she did none of them.

  The second man caught her—like Cole, not a big man, but wiry and strong. He had no trouble
taking her weight, or in bouncing her to a more secure position. "You," he said, "will wait for the bus in a quieter place."

  But she wasn't there yet, was she? "My name is Selena Shaw Jones!" She ignored the man's wince as she shouted into his ear. "I'm looking for my husband. He's here and he's hurt—my place is by his side!"

  The man gave her a shake. She contrived to wiggle at just the right moment and tipped right out of his arms, barely putting enough spin into her movement to roll upon landing. Oof. She needed more padding on her ass if she was going to be landing on it.

  Though the men reached for her, she scrambled to her feet and right back up on the rock, right past Dobry's muttered dismay. She had perhaps a few seconds—less to judge by the men's thunderous expressions. "My name is Selena Shaw Jones! I'm looking for my husband—"

  That was it, and they wouldn't be as careful this time—hands closed on her ankles—

  "I know her!"

  A child's voice. A young boy. Eight months older than he'd been when she'd sent him to hide at the ruins of Ashaga—when she'd stormed their house and saved his mother and aunt—but no less the recognizable for it. And behind him, a woman in a chador, her hands on those young shoulders, gripping a little more tightly than was probably comfortable. Her voice was low and melodious, and she said, "I know this woman. She tells the truth. She saved my family."

  Hands released her ankles. Selena grinned down at Dobry, who didn't grin back, and then she turned back to the woman, nodding respectfully, gratefully. To the man, she said, "Now…take me to my husband."

  Take me to Cole.

  Chapter 17

  This can't be good. Body sluggish, joints aching, side on fire and no doubt in Cole's mind that he'd had his little nap now and it was time to get up and assess things because…

  Okay, there was a problem of some sort. Danger. He was sure of it. And more than that, the urgency to…

  Well, to do…

  Something.

  Just what seemed worth some thought.

  Deep thought, in spite of outward things that might otherwise catch his attention. Voices. The smell of food. Of smoke. A personal scent so beguiling, so familiar, that Cole took a deep, sudden breath in spite of himself. Enough to trigger a sharp spike of dammit that hurts and jar him right out of that profoundly deep thought of his.

  When he opened bleary eyes to diffuse daylight, he found Selena. Face smudged with dried blood, rich, dark hair straggling from its ponytail and the lightweight hijab all but slipped off the back of her head, expression…

  Expression fiercely worried.

  He didn't stop to consider the improbability of her presence here, or to ponder the depth of his reaction—the surge of utter relief, the physical ripple of it through his body. He reached out, cupping his hands behind her head to pull her down to his mouth. And though he saw her startled expression on the way down, she met his kiss with one equally hard, her mouth settling right into his and saying all the same things—physical words of relief and possession and promise.

  "Now I know how to wake you up," Aymal's darkly amused voice said. "But don't count on it happening."

  Selena grinned, her lips still against Cole's. She gave him a final kiss that made him want to follow when she pulled away—but it turned out his body was as heavy as it had ever been, and he went nowhere. Selena straightened, and he realized that she knelt next to him on hard rock.

  We're in a cave. He remembered finding it, then. And the impossible run from the doctor's, the need to hide, and the need to do…

  Something.

  Just not what it was.

  The news of the boom, he also remembered. "Boom?" he said. "That was you?"

  "In a manner of speaking." She glanced at Aymal, and he knew she wouldn't yet speak freely, not certain just how much English he had. Nor was Cole, if it came to that. She nodded toward the cave entrance. "Steven Dobry is here, too. I'm sorry it took so long for us to find you…we've run into some resistance."

  "Tell me about it," Cole mumbled. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the betrayed trusts…the station that should have been a safe haven but wasn't; the friends who should have given help but who had put him here, flat on his back, laid low by a damned flesh wound. Aymal, who had every interest in keeping Cole alive but who hadn't been able to bring himself to deal with the blood and pain that might have averted this infection. Armchair terrorist. He said, "I've got a written record of Aymal's intel. Do whatever you have to so it reaches the right eyes, if it comes to that."

  "Okay," Selena said evenly. "We'll take care of it. But first, you."

  "And a plan," said a deep, rumbly voice from the cave entrance—speaking Russian, as had they all once Selena introduced Dobry. "If we can't trust the station, and we can't be sure our phones are secure—"

  "The border." Aymal's voice came firm and decisive. "We were going to head for the border, and the embassy there. Out of the reach of Suwan."

  "Not a bad idea, if we can get there."

  The border…something about that…

  "Pardon my bluntness, but we don't all have to get there." Aymal hesitated, and when no one spoke against him, added, "Once I am separate of any of you, your danger in this ends."

  "Oh, I wouldn't take that for granted," Selena muttered.

  It wasn't enough of an interruption to stop Aymal—not words from a woman. "I need to get to the border. I need one of you with me. And no offense, my fine spy," he said to Cole, "But I don't think you're the one to take me. And I don't think she's going anywhere without you."

  Beside Cole, Selena grew particularly still. She didn't like where this was going, no doubt about that; she'd gone to her lawyer face, the inscrutable one.

  But she'd do what she had to. She'd proved that. And when she said, quite pointedly, "Dr. Aymal, I advise you not to make assumptions about what I will and won't do," he knew she meant it.

  "That's right," Aymal said, reluctance and cultural conditioning showing through. "I've heard about you. Selena Jones—"

  "Selena Shaw Jones," she corrected him.

  "As if anyone here is ever going to forget that," Dobry grumbled.

  Okay, that was something to ask about.

  But first, there was the need to…

  Damn. He couldn't dredge it up. But it brought a scowl, and it brought Selena's attention back to him. "First," she said, "you." She rummaged in her backpack.

  "Unless you brought—" He stopped short at the sight of the military-issue first-aid kit she pulled out. "Oh."

  "I knew you were hurt," she said. "You left blood in the vehicle you stole." She caught his eye. "Driver's seat."

  She'd known it was him, then, and not just guessing. He winced, knowing what it was like to live with such knowledge. Seeing again that moment when she'd appeared on international television at the top of the steps to the Berzhaani capital, and he'd known at a glance that she was hurt. Just the way she held herself…

  It had torn at him unlike anything he'd felt before. So now, keeping her gaze, he said, "I'm sorry."

  She glared back and said, "You should be." But her expression softened, big blue-green eyes he could never resist when there was that slight wrinkle of worry between them. "It couldn't be more obvious that you've got an infection. But let it not be said I come unprepared." To Aymal, she asked, "Got any water around here? Kvass? Anything to drink? For Cole, of course." She'd noticed his earlier reaction, then.

  "I'll get some." He moved farther into the cave, and when he came back he had an MRE along with a bottle of water. "For later," he said, and left it next to Selena.

  She murmured thanks and helped Cole half out of the abaya, rolling him over with strong hands when his own body didn't quite cooperate, exposing his flank. "Let's see," she said, half to him, half to herself. But when she pulled the tunic up—stiff, stained tunic, he could tell just from the way it moved over his too-sensitive skin—she made a noise of dismay. "How the hell did you get into this mess?"

  He could ha
ve told her exactly how. He could have recited those reasons he knew too well—that he felt to his bones. All betrayals of trust.

  Instead he told her what he suddenly, deeply knew—that which had struck him with such acute clarity upon seeing her dirty, worried face—those strong features highlighted by the hijab, revealing the depth of expression she showed only to him. "It doesn't matter how I got into this mess," he said. "We'll get out of it together."

  DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. Just take care of it. "You don't want to know how ugly this is," she told him, gently pushing the tunic up his back until it stayed. Aymal returned from the inner depths of the cave and offered her a bottled water before returning to his chosen station by the mouth of the cave. Their escorts had left them here, unwilling to expose themselves by hanging around. Just as well; by hanging around, they might expose the fugitives.

  Cole looked over his shoulder at her, his face as pale as ever, big bruises of fatigue under his eyes. "It's just a through-and-through."

  Okay. Technically, maybe so. "I'm thinking," she said, and couldn't help the wince, "that the bullet was tumbling before it reached you. It doesn't make sense, but—"

  He shifted straight to oops, and admitted, "It was a ricochet, I think."

  "You think?" she murmured. Both entrance and exit were ragged and visibly infected even through the partial coating of stringent salve; the surrounding skin was hardened and red and spreading. And didn't smell so fresh, either. "This is gonna take more than some New-Skin."

  Cole might have cursed; he might have sighed. She wasn't sure which. She rubbed the spot between her eyebrows and allowed herself one short moment to recognize how very badly she didn't want to do this. To hurt him, not even in helping him…and she knew damned sure she was going to hurt him.

  "Here," she said, rummaging in the first-aid kit. "Made sure there were antibiotics in here. And pain meds, but you shouldn't take them on an empty stomach. So you can eat, take the things, and we'll give it a little while to work—"