by Erik Hyrkas
Chapter 41. Max
When the fire subsided, we walked into town. John had a limp, and so we walked slowly to accommodate his pace. My body already felt better, but hunger gnawed at my stomach. I saw a Perkins. Pancakes and bacon sounded so good.
Miranda noticed me looking. “We’d need to find you a shirt to get in there,” she said with a smile.
“Unfortunately, there aren’t any stores open in the middle of the night that sell shirts,” I said. I pulled out my cash and put the money in Miranda’s hand. “Bring me leftovers. I’ll rest here for a bit.”
She slapped me in the chest, but it didn’t hurt. “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t move.” She looked at John. “You can rest here, too. We’ll all eat out here together.” As Miranda walked into the restaurant, John and I sat down against an oak tree.
“Thanks for everything,” I said.
He smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen the bill.”
I noticed his eyes were closed and imagined he was in pain and probably exhausted. It had been a hard week for everybody, but he couldn’t simply overeat to feel better.
I watched the stars while I waited for Miranda. It seemed like there was never time to just watch them anymore. An agent always had to keep his eyes on some creature threatening the planet rather than on the sky.
Miranda returned and handed me three boxes, each with burgers and fries in them. She set a box next to John and then opened her own box.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. John finally opened his eyes and took a few bites of his sandwich, then pushed it away.
“Are you okay, sheriff?” Miranda asked.
“I’ve been better,” he murmured.
“We should get you medical attention,” she said.
“It’s not like I can just pop in at the ER,” he said. “I think that last kick broke my insides.”
“The Service has an infirmary. We’ll take you there. They can handle this,” I said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I can hardly walk.”
“By car, it would be over 11 hours from here—if we even sort of followed the speed limit. If we flew, I could get us back in five hours or less depending on the plane.”
I pointed at a green sign. “Looks like the airport is that way. John doesn’t look like he’s walking, though, and so we’ll need to borrow a car.”
Miranda looked around. “I’ll be right back with a ride. Just be ready to go when I get back.”
She leapt away in a flash. I helped John stand. He leaned heavily on me.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” I said.
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m the idiot that grabbed a thirty-foot-tall alien by the leg.”
I wanted to say more, but Miranda pulled up in a red Toyota minivan. I helped John into the passenger seat and then hopped in the back. She peeled away from the Perkin’s parking lot and accelerated toward the county airport.
“We have a little cash but not enough to buy a plane,” I said.
“We’ll simply borrow the plane and return it next week,” she said.
“You’re going to hot-wire an airplane?” I asked.
“Some planes don’t even use keys, and those that do sometimes have the keys in them because pilots don’t usually have to worry about other people just taking their planes for a joy ride. If we have to, though, yes, I’ll hot-wire it.”
“Sexy,” I said, and I could see her smile at the compliment by the light of the dash.
When we pulled into the airport parking lot, and she hopped out. “I’ll get a plane. Help him walk to the tarmac,” she said.
She jumped away and I helped John out of the car. By the time we walked out onto the tarmac, a twin-engine plane was coming our way. It came to a stop a few feet from us. I helped John into the back and I sat up front.
“This is a Beech Baron 58,” she said. “We’ll be back at HQ in three hours or so.”
“Hang in there,” I told John. “It won’t be long.”
We were cruising through the dark sky in a few minutes, and I could make out sparkling towns sprawling across hills and through valleys. Whenever we passed through rural areas, it was difficult to tell how high up we were. All you could see below us was blackness.
When we landed three hours later, John looked worse for wear. His skin was pale and sweaty, and he barely opened his eyes when I told him we were safe.
The moment we were stopped, Miranda climbed from the plane and darted away. I stayed with John.
“Miranda will be here with help in a moment, sheriff,” I said.
“Call me John,” he said.
“Okay, John. Hang in there a little longer,” I said.
He closed his eyes.
“Keep your eyes open,” I urged. “Just a little longer.”
He didn’t open his eyes, though. The medics arrived a moment later and whisked him away to the infirmary.
“Come on out,” Miranda said.
I nodded and stepped out of the plane. “I hope he doesn’t die,” I whispered. “Everybody around me always ends up dead—or worse.”
She stepped in close to me and put both arms around my neck. “I didn’t.”
I leaned my forehead against hers. “I thought you were going to, though.”
We stood for a while like that, forehead-to-forehead, and then she took my hand and led me back to the Command Center. Captain Johnson was the last person I wanted to talk to, but I knew we had to debrief.
Miranda put her hand on the metal door panel and it slid open. She stepped through, but when I went to follow, the door shut on me, pinching my arm until it hurt. Then it opened up enough for me to pull my arm free before shutting again. Apparently the AI was still holding a grudge.
“Hey, computer. Who’s your daddy?”
The door opened. “Passcode accepted. Have a pleasant day.”
Who knew that old game-cheat codes worked on AI?
“Agents Miranda and Maximus,” the captain said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Yes, sir,” Miranda and I said in unison.
He looked at me. “Agent Maximus, you aren’t wearing a shirt.”
“Very perceptive of you, sir.”
“You’ve come back in the middle of the night in a stolen plane with a civilian.”
“He helped us on the mission, sir,” I said.
“He needs medical attention, sir,” Miranda added.
“So you thought you could bring him here?” the captain asked. “Does this look like a party house to you?”
“He’s an intergalactic citizen, sir. He needs the kind of medical attention only the infirmary can offer,” I said.
Captain Johnson looked away. “I understand that you took care of your ping.”
“Yes, sir,” Miranda said.
“I thought you were going to bring Agent Wendy in for questioning.”
“She wasn’t brought in?” I asked.
“We sent a team to pick her up as you requested, but the team didn’t come back,” he said. “When you call for a pick-up, you are supposed to have a secured package. The team wasn’t trained to take down an agent.”
“But…”
“I’d like to bust you down to desk duty, but my two best agents were killed in action today and I have another mission. So I’m going to have to send you two, once you’ve cleaned up.” Then he looked at Miranda. “Unless you don’t want to be his partner anymore. Nobody else has lasted more than one assignment.”
I looked at the ground. Most of my partners hadn’t actually died, I wanted to say. They only ended up seriously injured or debilitated in some way. Miranda didn’t answer him.
“Get some rest. You leave for Chicago in the morning. Bring formal wear. John will brief you in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” we said in unison. Apparently, they had found a replacement for Wendy already.
Miranda and I walked out of the command center. I was exhausted but felt a strange relief that Miranda would st
ill be my partner. I had been afraid she would outright object to another mission by my side.
“Wendy is going to be looking for you,” she said.
“I’ll be sure to bring cuffs so we can bring her in.”
She grabbed my hand and held it tight. “Just try to keep your clothes on.”
“Well, I’ll have a partner with me to make sure I’m dressed properly,” I said.
She looked away as we walked to the sleeping quarters hand-in-hand. We stopped at the door to the female dormitory.
“Good night.” She pulled her hand away slowly.
“See you in the morning,” I said.
She hesitated at the door, gave me a last long look, and then went in.
I wandered down the hall to the male dormitory and collapsed on my bunk.
