Aubreigh had given her life to the rebels’ cause. She hadn’t lived long enough to see the Republic established, but she would have supported it wholeheartedly. If there was anything Zira could do to prevent that Republic from failing, she had to try.
And, from a more practical standpoint, it was probably a good idea to stay on the good side of the people in charge.
She looked across the table at Alma. “The last time I agreed to help you people, I ended up in prison.”
Alma raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to one side. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem here.”
“I didn’t think it was going to be a problem last time. If I do this, you don’t get to throw me under the bus if things don’t go exactly your way.”
“No one threw you under the bus. You helped a murderer escape before he could face trial.”
“There wasn’t going to be a trial because he would have been dead.”
Alma threw her hands up and shook her head. “We’re never going to see eye to eye about what happened with Jared. You want me to promise nothing bad is going come from you helping us? Fine. As far as it’s in my power, I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
“Or Tripp.”
“Or Tripp.” A tentative smile began to spread across her face. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”
“I’ll talk to Ryku. Whether or not Tripp will is his choice.”
* * *
As it turned out, Tripp was far less receptive to the idea of talking to Ryku than Alma seemed to have anticipated. “No,” he said before she had even finished explaining.
“I know it’s not going to be easy, but we could really use your help.”
“No. Just go away.”
She said something to him in Spanish, but he just shook his head. She sighed and went to stand beside Zira and Rita, who were watching the scene play out from the opposite side of the room. “Maybe you can talk him into it over the next few days?” Alma suggested.
Zira shook her head. “You’re welcome to call or come back and talk to him again yourself, but I’m not going to try to make his mind up for him.”
“Now’s really not the best time to ask him for favors,” said Rita. “He’s angry and in pain and using what little energy he has just to get through this.”
“I had to try.”
Zira turned to Rita, anxious to learn about her plan to support Tripp through withdrawal and cure his addiction. “So what now?”
“He’s going to feel like crap for the next few days at least,” she said. “Once the physical symptoms wear off, he should feel more like himself, but the real trouble is going to be what comes after. All the underlying problems that made him turn to heroin in the first place are still going to be there, and he needs to find a way to deal with those issues so he doesn’t relapse.”
“How?”
“I’ll call and check up on him, use some of the same therapeutic interventions that helped him in the past.” She glanced around the hotel room. “I’m not sure how long you’re planning on staying here, but wherever you end up, he should try to connect with a support group for recovering addicts. They’re pretty informal and hard to track down sometimes, but most cities have at least one. If he has any trouble finding something or just refuses to go, call me.”
It wasn’t quite the simple, formulaic solution Zira had hoped for. “That’s it? What if he relapses again?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” She put a hand on Zira’s arm and squeezed. “I know this is a lot, and it’s frustrating that there’s no magic cure. But addiction is complicated. He wants to change, but it’s going to take a lot of time and effort for him to reestablish long-term sobriety.”
“What about right now? Is there anything we can do to make him more comfortable?”
“Just stay with him. He’s almost through the worst of it. I hate to leave him like this, but I’ve already made commitments to other people who need my help. He has my CL code, and I’ll give it to you, too. Call me anytime, day or night, whether you have questions or just need someone to talk to. Don’t let yourself get burnt out.”
Rita put her code into Zira’s CL, then she and Alma turned to the door. “I’ll be in touch,” Alma said. “I’ll have to arrange the visit with the prison, but we’ll probably be going to see Ryku sometime next week.”
“Just let me know.”
She showed them out to their car, then went back inside and settled onto the couch.
“You see why I left?” Tripp muttered from the bed.
She wasn’t sure what he meant. “Not really. Why?”
He turned over to stare at her with a flat expression. “All they care about is how we can help the Republic. That’s all that matters to them.”
It took Zira a second longer than it should have to mentally refute Tripp’s statement, but she knew it wasn’t true, at least not where Alma was concerned. She wanted Tripp to understand that, too. She wanted him to know there were other people who cared and wanted to see him get better, but she doubted he was going to listen to anything she said right now. Later, maybe, when the worst of his withdrawal was over. For now, there was nothing she could do but wait.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jared stayed in his room all morning while Zira and Tripp were busy with their visitors, but by noon, he began to feel suffocated in the tiny room. After donning his hat and checking to make sure there was no one outside, he left the motel premises and took a walk around the city for a change of scenery. The fresh air did him good, and when he received a message from Zira letting him know that Alma and Rita were gone, he stopped to pick up takeout for all of them before heading back.
Zira answered the door when he knocked. Her hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she’d changed into new clothes—an oversized sweater and black, knit pants that hugged the curves of her legs. She took one look at the sack in Jared’s hand and beamed. “You brought food. Good. I’m starving.”
It was the first time she’d smiled like that since they’d been reunited, with unguarded delight that erased all the strain and apprehension she’d displayed before. Something warm buzzed inside Jared’s chest. He had missed seeing her happy.
He stepped inside and set the food on the arm of the couch. Tripp, who also wore fresh clothes, sat on the end of his bed. His face still bore a strained grimace, but his eyes seemed a little less dull than before as he watched Jared take the food out of the bag.
“How did it go?” Jared asked.
“As well as it could, I guess,” said Zira. “Rita had some good ideas about how to help Tripp once he’s past the worst of his withdrawal. And at least now I know we’re not completely doing the wrong thing.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Tripp muttered.
Jared shot him a look, but Zira just rolled her eyes and continued on as if Tripp wasn’t there. “He’s still not very happy with either of us, but he managed to keep some fluids down this afternoon. I even got him to change his clothes.”
Tripp wrinkled his nose. “Whatever that is, it smells disgusting. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
Zira grabbed two of the carryout boxes. “That’s fine. We’ll eat in Jared’s room. And don’t even think about trying to go anywhere. I can see the door from his window, and I’ll be watching the whole time.”
Tripp made a rude hand gesture before flopping back onto the bed with his back towards them.
Jared grabbed the rest of the food and followed Zira outside. His room was only a few doors down in a part of the building perpendicular to where Zira and Tripp were staying. He unlocked the door and turned on the lights, then helped Zira drag the couch to the window so they could see out. They sat side by side and started eating.
“Do you really think he’ll try to leave?” Jared asked.
“Who knows? But I’m not going to give him a chance to try.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again. “So, I might have to leave for a day or two
next week, and I don’t think he’ll want to come.”
Jared nodded. “I can stay with him, if you think he still needs it by then.”
“Thanks.”
He almost didn’t ask, but after a few seconds of mental deliberation, curiosity got the better of him. “Where are you going?”
She absently pushed the food in her takeout container around with her fork. “Alma asked me for a favor. Well, both of us. Tripp doesn’t want to do it, but I said I would.”
What kind of favor would a top national security executive request from two former members of the PEACE Project? It was none of his business, but he decided to pry just a little further. “A favor?”
“Yeah.” She spoke her next words slowly, carefully, and without looking at him. “She asked me to talk to Ryku, and I agreed.”
A shiver ran down Jared’s back. He set his food off to the side; it suddenly didn’t look quite so appealing. “Why?”
“He might have been connected to the man who tried to kill Chase a couple nights ago. Alma thinks if I talk to him, he might actually say something useful, or I might see something other people wouldn’t notice. Since I know him better, I guess.”
If she seriously thought Ryku was connected to the attempt on President Bradshaw’s life, she didn’t know him at all. “I can tell you already, he had nothing to do with that.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“It was too careless. The guy was an amateur. He didn’t even get close enough to Bradshaw to do anything before security caught him.”
“Even if he didn’t give the order, he could still be connected somehow. Carlson is claiming he did it for Ryku. That’s a problem.”
“Is it really a good idea to talk to him, though?” Just the thought of facing Ryku filled Jared with dread. He wouldn’t have done it, if they’d asked him to. Not for anything in the world. Then again, his relationship with the former chairman had been far more personal than Zira’s. Ryku had been a mentor and perhaps even something of a father figure to both of them, but he’d paid special attention to Jared in preparing him to take over as chairman of unit E-2 someday. Which only made the cataclysmic rift between them that much deeper now.
“I’m not sure,” Zira responded flatly.
“He’s just going to try to manipulate the situation.”
“Well, he wouldn’t be Ryku if he didn’t.”
“What if he doesn’t talk? What if you put yourself through all that trouble for nothing?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, Jared. I don’t know anything. I don’t even really want to do it, but I think I need to.”
“No, you don’t. No one’s forcing you, and you don’t owe them anything. Tripp said no. You can say no, too.”
“I can’t!” She jammed her fork into her takeout container. “I already said yes, and I have to at least try. If Aubreigh were still here, she wouldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”
The tension in the room shattered with the mention of Aubreigh’s name, and Jared mentally kicked himself for pushing Zira to answer questions she probably would have rather avoided. At least he understood her reasoning now. This wasn’t about her or the Project or Ryku or their history. It was about doing the right thing, doing what Aubreigh would have done.
He went back to staring out the window. So did Zira, and they both resumed eating their meal in silence.
A few minutes later, she stood to throw her trash in the bin. “Thanks for the food.”
“No problem,” he replied. She headed for the door, and against his better judgment, he blurted out what was on his mind before she could leave. “Just don’t let them take advantage of you again.”
She turned back to look at him. “What?”
He still thought talking to Ryku was a bad idea and a waste of time, but she’d clearly made her mind up already. He just hoped she would be smart about it. “Look, I know I’m the last person you need or want advice from, but be careful. They’re going to do whatever is best for the Republic, no matter what that means for you. They put you in prison.”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying that if they want something from you, they should be willing to give you something, too. Don’t let them have all the power.”
CHAPTER NINE
Three more full days passed before Tripp began to show any real signs of improvement. When Zira wasn’t attending to his needs, she searched for a job to fulfill the conditions of her parole and start earning a stable income. With Jared’s help, she applied for a variety of positions, including ones she didn’t have the skillset for. Not now, at least, but she was willing to learn anything.
“How about this one?” Jared asked one afternoon as they combed through options listed on the Net. “Customer service representative. Full-time hours, flexible schedule. Must have strong interpersonal skills.”
“I have strong interpersonal skills,” Zira replied. When he gave her a doubtful look, she clarified. “Well, with some people. A few people.”
He laughed. “I bet you could at least pretend to have good interpersonal skills if you were getting paid for it.”
“I could. Send me the info.”
She was halfway finished with that application when he found another listing. “Here. Substitute teacher, elementary education.”
Zira adopted a syrupy-sweet voice and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Okay class, today we’re going to learn about fighting stances for self-defense. You can practice on each other. Who wants to go first?”
“Hey, it’s a good life skill.”
“I’m not sure their parents would agree,” she said, but she made a mental note to apply for the job later anyway.
In the bed on the other side of the room, Tripp rolled over and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Why don’t you just try to get a security job or something?”
“Because bots and drones do most of that stuff, so there aren’t many security jobs out there to begin with, and I’m not allowed to carry a gun, which eliminates most of my other prospects. How are you feeling today?” She braced herself for his response. He hadn’t had anything nice to say to her over the past few days, and certainly not whenever she’d asked that question.
It took him a few moments to respond. “Better, I think. Not completely, but enough to try and eat something, if we have it.”
Zira stood up so fast she nearly stumbled over Jared’s outstretched legs. She went to the nightstand and rummaged around in the drawer for the plain, salted crackers she’d stocked there hoping this moment would arrive. She opened a sleeve and handed it to Tripp along with a bottle of water.
“Thanks, kid.” He nibbled at the corner of a cracker. His expression still lacked its usual animation, and his dilated pupils nearly blacked out all the color in his hazel irises, but he sounded so much more like himself that Zira could have hugged him. He took a few sips of water, then looked back up at her. “You have to stop staring at me like that. It’s creeping me out.”
“Sorry. I’m just glad you’re feeling better. I missed you.”
“I said I felt a little better, not that everything was back to normal.”
“That’s okay. I’ll take it.”
He sighed and mumbled something else as she returned to filling out her applications. After he’d had eaten a few more crackers, he asked. “You still planning to go see Ryku?”
Zira didn’t look up from her CL, but she could practically feel disapproval radiating from Jared as she responded. “Alma got it all set up. We’re going first thing Monday morning.”
“Tell her I’m coming, too.”
She wasn’t sure that was a good idea, given that all his triggers for using heroin seemed to be centered around Ryku. But she couldn’t tell him that—not with Jared in the room. Not without sounding like a hypocrite.
They hadn’t spoken about Alma’s request again except for when she had told him what day she’d be leaving. Even as he’d confirmed that h
e would stay with Tripp while she was gone, his stony expression had clearly belied his opinion on the matter. He still thought it was a terrible idea, and if Zira told Tripp it was a bad idea for him to come along, she’d only be adding ammunition to Jared’s argument against her going.
Besides, why should she care so much what Jared thought? Sure, he knew Ryku better than she did, and he’d made some reasonable points about the dangers of going. But it was her choice, and it shouldn’t matter whether he approved or not.
She was about to gently suggest that Tripp might be better off staying behind, but Jared spoke up first. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
He turned the water bottle over and over in his hands. “I fought too hard and lost too much to let Ryku or the PRM ruin everything. And I can’t just sit in here feeling sorry for myself forever. I need to do something.”
Zira sighed. She couldn’t tell him to stay behind when his reasons for going were no less justifiable than her own.
“Are you sure?” Jared asked, but he wasn’t looking at Tripp when he said it. He was looking at Zira.
“I’m not going to talk to him,” Tripp said. “I don’t even want him to know I’m there. But I can observe, or at least listen. It will probably be a big waste of everyone’s time, but if Alma’s right…”
Zira finished the thought for him. “We have to try. I’ll let her know you changed your mind.”
Concern passed over Jared’s face as he looked between both of them, but if he still wanted to try to dissuade them, he didn’t say anything.
* * *
By the time Monday morning came around, Tripp had regained most of his appetite and seemed to be in significantly less pain. He was still more agitated and restless than Zira remembered him ever being before, but that could have been as much a result of their upcoming visit with Ryku as it was his addiction. That morning, they woke up early and took a bus to the airport to meet Alma before driving the remaining distance to the maximum-security prison that held Ryku.
Survivors of PEACE Page 6
