We paid the Hexagon a visit across the river the following morning. My leg was still bad, but they needed virtually everybody moving around. Not one man sat that day. Our armed convoy took a trip down Riverside Drive where we located Eyes and Ears' hideout. A university hospital. It was still up and running, though judging by the fact that everywhere else but Mercado Lane strictly accepted Francs, it seemed as if they weren't catering to mere passersby nor were hospital staff well-compensated for their deeds. We suspected that the enemy reconnaissance team extorted their services. All while that was happening, O-Peck and Pope's militiamen situated themselves along Old Palisades near the Fort Lee outpost, awaiting General Vergs' arrival.
"I… I don't know what to say, Doctor."
"You don't have to say anything, Elisabeth. I'm positive you had nothing to do with it."
I spoke with Dr. Agatha on a payphone just outside the hospital. She didn't take the news lightly upon hearing that Anais was with us the entire time. To her, the story was that she was camping on the border of Mercado Lane, hunting big game alongside Mr. Pie who actually followed us into Fort Lee, managing our arms.
Dr. Agatha had been trying to contact her. She was that worried, but Anais wasn't even issued a radio and just tagged along with whoever did. General Vergs was the one who told her everything. I got a call from him before that payphone, telling me to do everything I can to soften the doctor's blows. Me—I believed she had every right to be as furious as she was. That was her baby girl, and she made that a point time and time again.
Bang! Bang!
The night before was brutal. It took a toll on me mentally and physically. The morning after—not so much. I had an AR-15 hanging from my shoulder and low to the ground, my two pistols practically glued to my body. With civilians running up and down the streets, it made it impossible for me to get a clear view of what was happening and who was firing at who. I mean, it was impossible to just have my gun out without alarming any more folks. Those first two bangs—they made people cry wolf in an instant.
Captain Finer reported on the radio, "Hostiles in the building. I need units inside."
We reconvened.
Lieutenant Yemelyanova joined us only because Ms. Matsumoto, despite the traumatic incident we both witnessed the day before, wished to retrieve whatever enemy intel there was in the camp. She was brave in that regard… and in no other. As expected, that made Lieutenant Miller want to assist Anais instead. I didn't tell that girl about Dr. Agatha. I didn't want her to freeze in the middle of her duties, but I just knew that she wasn't going to be coming home to hugs and kisses.
The two were our eyes in the sky, operating on a lighthouse a short saunter away from the bridge. It appeared that the hospital was another checkpoint for shipments and convoys as all the crates and boxes that towered the driveway had "M-SIAT" stamped on the sides of them.
Captain Finer, who led the ground team alongside St. Vier, told me, "Don't look, Lisa. I need you here."
"I'm… I'm here."
All the patients they had lying on stretchers were either dying Hexagon troops or wealthy civilians who looked like they gave up everything they had just to be treated. Some of the injured enemy soldiers had to be put out of their misery by us since they were all pointing at the trusty. We already stripped her of her uniform and had her dress up as a volunteer, but no. They all saw right through that. For troops who didn't give a damn about women and children, they sure could remember a face. They probably noticed that she had gone AWOL and decided to read up on her file. Those poor guards—we suffocated them with sheets and pillows, and if that didn't work… muzzles to the cushions.
We swept the ground floor and even the floor above it, brandishing our guns to look bigger and meaner. The hospital staff—they just went on with their day. They didn't care that we skulked about. If anything, they wanted us to be there. Probably waited for an eternity for people like us to show up.
Bang! Bang!
Horrid sounds of a bloodbath occurring bled through the walls. It was two floors above. Captain Finer radioed in on Lieutenant Miller, requesting Anais to scan the upper levels, though we were told that they couldn't see a thing. Inner rooms, I was guessing. Either an office-type deal, a reception area, or an ER.
Bang! Bang!
The shooting didn't stop.
"Shit," Captain Finer became queasy. The sounds were sickening. "What the hell are they doing up there? Some of the people they got here are interns. Students. Don't tell me they're shooting them up."
Bang! Bang!
All the nurses on that floor cleared a path for us, pushing away gurneys and carts. They gave us an estranged stare like we were the bad guys, but then pointed at the stairwell with their chins, guiding us to where the sounds were coming from. They couldn't speak. The place was bugged. French guards already knew we were there, but if they heard any one of those nurses or doctors utter even a single word to us, they would've come down and shoot us all. Maybe even through the ceiling. The group advanced, though my attention was caught by a single crushed carton that was at my foot.
Xemperil.
I grabbed it and gestured to one of the nurses, asking where I could find more. I was shown to a door that was hidden away by a whiteboard and a wheelchair. After I cleared the obstruction, I examined the sign on it.
"MEDICINE."
The nurse clenched my arm, halting me and pulling me to the side.
"What is it?" I asked her.
"Two," the nurse gestured with her fingers. First, she pointed at my gun. Then, she pointed at the Xemperil carton in my hand. Afterwards, she rushed back to the main corridor, peeking at the stairwell, though the squad was no longer there. That worried me, but I knew that whatever was beyond that door was worth the detour.
I squeezed myself through the gap in the door and aimed my AR-15, scanning the medicine room. In the corner of it was a Hexagon infantrywoman. Beside her was her comrade failing to administer a dose of Xemperil due to his shakiness. There wasn't much left in the room. There were only two boxes left in the room and one in his hands. The guard dropped the medicine entirely and proceeded to reach for his gun. The girl did as well.
Click!
I had two pistols staring me dead in the eyes.
The girl panicked, "Marco—"
"Chut!" The man tried aggravating me by jolting his weapon in my face. "You! You have no business here, American!"
"Yes, I do." With a firm grip on my firearm, I advanced, tracing every subtle movement of their hands. "All I need is that Xemperil. Nothing else. You hand that over to me, and I'll be out of your hair. It's as simple as that."
"Ridiculous," Marco—I took it that was his name—didn't like the look I had on my face.
"You don't want this. I know it."
"No," the woman approached me. "We don't want any of this—"
"But we can't give you any of the Xemperil!" The man racked his gun, but nothing happened. He racked it again, but still, nothing was coming out. "I'm sorry. We're all out. Get your own. Find it somewhere else."
"There is nowhere else," I said to the uneasy troop.
"Marco—"
"Chut, I said!"
Pistols generally eject shells and casings that have been fired. They do that when the slide is racked to chamber the succeeding round. Now, I wasn't familiar with the guns they had on them, but since that Marco guy racked his gun twice and nothing came out, that led me to believe that his was empty. The girl didn't rack hers at all, so if there was anyone to worry about, it was her. She was the one I had my sights on. She was also the one that needed that Xemperil. You could tell by just looking at her. She was all skin and bones.
"Look," Marco said to me, "I don't care. Take the hospital. Fine… but let us have this. Please, my lady… She's dying."
"Someone else needs that just as bad. I am sorry."
I hoped and prayed that they wouldn't do anything stupid, but alas, Marco dived for the girl's gun and threw his my way as a diversion. At that moment, my head and my heart just shut down, and my pointer finger did the rest. l wasn't there. It's like I just flicked a switch, and it all went to black. Deaf, blind, and mute. My body, my bones channeled a rageful heat, bleeding through my skin like I was a lightbulb. Incandescent and stuff.
Ra-ta-ta-ta!
The stock of my AR-15 drilled into my shoulder as I fully absorbed its bruising recoil, but the pain I endured was nothing in comparison to the bullets that rippled that poor girl into ribbons. Marco was okay, though the girl was practically tucked into the cracks of the room, shredded into bits and pieces.
"A— Amelie…?"
Bang!
While he was mourning his partner, I shot him, too.
Bang, bang!
Two more times for good measure.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I braved the smoke cloud that filled the halls, trying to find my way back to the squad. I could hear Captain Finer calling out to me both on the radio and through the corridors.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he yelled, but the gunfight on the above floor was deafening. I swear, my ear drums were pounding as strong as my heart. The earth was pulling me down, keeping the soles of my feet flat on the ground. I was heavy.
Eventually, I made it to the upper floor where I located the enemy's central camp. CB radios, maps, mortars, binoculars. That was the relay base. Among other things, I found more boxes that had "M-SIAT" written on them. That was strange. Disturbing. Something was left behind. Something they didn't want us to see. On the same desk where they set up their radios, they had polaroids scattered all over.
There were pictures of General Vergs, Dr. Agatha, Captain Finer, our jeeps, and our license plates. Keeping them pinned to the table was a VHS tape and a voice recorder. Those seemed like the type of things that Ms. Matsumoto would've been after. I collected the voice recorder and further examined the scribbles on the VHS tape.
"TÊTE-À-TÊTE: BBY"
I looked past the tape and spotted a trail of blood running along the floor in a zig-zag pattern. Whoever were the two pupils that Anais shot left the joint in a mess and in a hurry. The trail went cold as it ended by a broken window that had a Hexagon armband caught on a long shard. Wind blew in from there, scattering the pictures that were no longer pinned to the table.
As I looked back, the polaroids parted and revealed to me a tickler with blacked out flaps and a fountain pen sheathed in the coil. I collected that as well and kept it in my parka along with the tape. As for the voice recorder, I played it on the spot.
Click.
"You're bold—"
"I am."
"It doesn't matter if you hand them over those patents. They will hunt you down, and if they don't, the U.S. will come looking. Do you really want that? Do you think that's what's best for her?"
"I think I'm out of options, Doc."
"If you can just wait—"
"No… No, I will not. Legrand singled me out the other day. Doc, she found me. She knows where I live. She sat me down in my own kitchen for Christ's sake! Doc, she was right there!"
"I know, I know. That major's a sneaky one, but you don't have to worry. If Lion-6 persists, I will have no other choice but to hand over M-SIAT. Hand me the patents. They can strip them from me when I'm dead. OECs are flushing in. You should get going while the waters are still calm."
"Why? Why give up M-SIAT just like that?"
"Because imagine what they'll do to a poor girl like Elisabeth…"
"Lisa?"
I quickly hid the recorder in my pocket upon hearing Captain Finer's voice, though I couldn't hide my swollen eyes. He came to my aid, letting his gun hang freely from his torso as he assessed my head, looking for wounds or anything like that.
"Are you okay?" he asked me. "Where did you go? I said that I needed you here with us. Where did you run off to?"
"Xemperil," I could barely speak. "I found some Xemperil."
He knew I wasn't doing okay. I was a ghostly pale. "Lisa… What happened?"
A small part of me felt like the jig was up. The captain stared through me as if he could spot the tape and the tickler sticking out of my pockets. He tried reaching for my shoulder, but I inched away. Good thing, despite our likeness toward each other, I could still play that shy card. He didn't try to reach for me after that.
"I… I shot some people. A couple."
"How many?"
"No. A 'couple' as in two of them. The girl needed the Xemperil, and I—"
"I wouldn't have it any other way. Dr. Agatha will be needing that, and I'm glad you're the one who found it." He knelt before me. That time, I couldn't slip away from his grasp. He wasn't trying to frisk me or anything, so I allowed it. "I need you to stop freezing on me, okay? It's a scary thing what we're doing around here. I get it. If you stray away, you become your own responsibility, and there's nothing wrong with that. But if you freeze… I'm not there."
"I'm sorry. I—"
"Don't be sorry. Be better."
"I'll be better…"
"Good," he embraced me. "You made me worried."
Although my detour was justified, there truly was an impulse to just run away. I talked about how I became desensitized to all that. I guess I wasn't. Perhaps to the sights and the sounds, but it was something else when those sights and sounds demanded something of me. It was something else when they demanded me to act quickly, demanded that I make a move. I was also becoming timid because the captain's warm embrace was becoming less and less… warm. I mean, it was real… but caved heads and bloating bodies were real, too.
"I'm… here."
* * *
"Where is she?!" Dr. Agatha stormed through a congested hospital driveway, shoving aside troops and civilians alike. "Noble," she shouted, "bring her to me right this very instant!" With snot running down her face, she marched up the glass doors of the lobby and kicked them in.
Her presence was enough to discipline Anais as the girl quickly ambled her way to the doctor, though Big Mama wasn't having any of it.
"Mama? I—"
"What do you have to say for yourself? Huh?"
"Papa—"
"I spoke with Papa. He's dealt with." The doctor raised her backhand at the girl, looking like she was going to smack her, though she didn't pull through. Instead, she crouched down to her level and shook the sniper by the shoulders. "Anais, why? You know how I feel about this. You also know how Papa is willing to let you take on responsibilities, some you can't even handle. He can't see past that, but I can."
"But, Mama, we cleared out Eyes and Ears from the west side of the river—"
"I don't care about that right now. We're talking about you." Dr. Agatha raised her voice. "When I took you in, I made a promise to Pope. I promised her that I'll do whatever I can to keep you off these streets. When Papa and I got a hold of things, I made that promise to myself as well."
"Mama, it's okay—"
"No, it's not! It's my mission!" Strings of spit shot from her tongue and hung from her lips. She was furious with the girl. "I failed it. No, it's not because of you, or Papa, or anybody. I'm… Look, I know what you've got going on here is special. I do. It's something you've treasured long before the general and I came into your life. But, sweetie, we are here now. You need to have at least an ounce of courtesy to just stay alive for the people you hold near and dear. It's a shame that Papa and I can't afford to do the same for you. Instead, we dance on wires. We'll do anything just to keep you safe, and to keep you from doing things such as this."
Anais shimmied away from Dr. Agatha's hold. "No… No. Eyes and Ears was stopped because of me. I did that. No one else."
"Of course, I know that—"
"The reason why we can walk on this side of the Hudson was because of me." Anais talked back to her, "I have every right to keep you safe. Papa's not right and you're in no condition."
Dr. Agatha raised her finger in a motherly sort of way. "Anais, don't you dare have pride. Believe me when I say that'll be the death of you—"
"Get off my back—"
"Anais!"
Captain Finer got between the two, but not before the doctor swept her hand across the girl's face, leaving a stinging mark on her cheek and an echo heard from all around.
Whip!
We were all taken aback by it. Dr. Agatha more so. It was obvious that she wasn't used to that style of disciplinary actions. The young girl was more aghast than she was in pain. Those big, teary eyes broke Big Mama's soul. Anais' mouth was shielded by her two hands, silencing her cries. She smacked Dr. Agatha's hand as she reached for her and ran back into the building, Lieutenant Miller chasing after her.
Captain Finer tugged at his thumb in nervousness, unsure with how the doctor was going to deal with the others. "Ma'am, I—"
"It's… fine, Noble. Thank you."
"If there's anything you need…"
Dr. Agatha told him, "If you can speak to her, that would mean a lot to me. You always know what to do."
"I'm on it, ma'am."
I made my way through the crowd and found Dr. Agatha red in the face like she always was. Without saying a word to her, I reached into my parka, making sure the tape and the tickler were snug in my pockets, and handed her the Xemperil. It didn't take long for her to identify what it was.
"Oh, Elisabeth, you—" She gawked at the medicine like it was something worth deciphering. She couldn't believe what was before her. "Oh, Elisabeth…"
I asked her, "Are you okay, Doctor?"
She wiped her tears then said to me, "Yes, I'm fine. Sometimes, I forget I have this damn sickness at all." She shined a smile my way, though I knew it wasn't genuine. "There are some days. This is one of them."
"May I know where the general is?"
"Old Palisades," I was told. "You know, it means something to me—the way he just confessed out of the blue. That's him being my partner, but sadly, it's not enough. Confessions can only get you so far… until they don't." She asked me, "Does… Pope know about this?"
"I… I don't know."
"Are you sure?"
"I haven't spoken to her in a while."
"Then I'll have to talk to her about it."
"Doctor, I am sorry—"
"No," she stopped me. "It's not your fault. You followed orders. Just like with that O-Peck letter, those were strictly orders. Anyone who'll blame you for those things are dense and shallow."
I chuckled a bit. "It sounds like you're talking about someone in particular."
"C'mon. I want something to eat."
Dr. Agatha drove me around the east side of the Hudson, crossing paths with French convoys that were either riding to the West Harlem Piers, where they had weaponized dinghies ready to sail, or away from the AO for good. That cleared the east a bit. Around the hospital at least.
The doctor was liquid in francs, so she decided to head for the markets that they had lined up behind an old foster home. Those markets were owned by a Master Camp that the Hexagon had somewhere. Not nearby, but somewhere. They were profiting off of wares that slaves were forced to gather and barter. Some were shipments that came from the Master Camp itself, but they were outweighed by what those poor laborers gathered from around there. That's why every patch of unclaimed land we came across was bone-dry. It seemed like they used them for crops and then failed miserably.
"Two oxtails please."
For a market situated dangerously close to the DMZ, there were more people there than in Mercado Lane. They even had more francs than we had dollars. Then again, they were slaves, and they weren't allowed to leave nor leisure. Nothing but mandatory labor for those folks. French guards monitored the market, but they paid no mind to the doctor and I. We didn't give it any thought. The two of us sat at a long booth in between a rocking crowd of greasy slaves and short-tempered vendors with brooms for swatters.
I asked the doctor, "Any word on Edgewater?"
"Hm?" She looked engrossed in her own thoughts. "Oh. Well, Mitchell said that French troops made it back up north thanks to the guys that came in from the piers. Right now, our guys are stuck on Old Palisades. There's talks of moving you guys further down—Harlem Piers—with the artillery. Sink their dinghies, blow up the docks. It's Finer's call, really."
"That can work."
When our meals were placed on the table, she and I were both repelled a bit. Our oxtails looked like they were moving. Whatever that sauce was smelled like gasoline, and whatever speck on that platter was wasn't supposed to be there. Just like that, she wasted a couple francs for a… Well, I wouldn't even call it a "meal". Ultimately, we decided to give them away and just strolled about. I walked with the doctor as she wrapped both her arms around mine.
She held me tight.
"Noble is sweet on you," she said.
"He is."
"That's good. It's nice to see him treat you the way he does."
At the end of the market was a man-made creek that cut deep on the bend of Riverside Drive. A different Riverside Drive—the one on the east side of the river. Pipelines were left damaged and exposed, spurting water up from the ground. Clean water might I add, so it became this small haven for flora and fauna to thrive. U.S. forces hadn't been around that area before us, so the place was pretty calm.
Dr. Agatha and I hopped down into the wet creek and sat on big slabs of concrete that had I-beams sticking out of them. We threw pebbles and stuff in a kiddish way, killing time like it was nobody's business. While we were kicking our feet up, I saw a patch sewed onto the doctor's right sleeve.
"U.T.F. LEGION," it said.
"What's that?" I pointed at the badge.
"That?" She caressed the patch with such gentleness and smiled a little. "It's a time capsule. That's what that is." The doctor showed me an oval locket that she had under her shirt. It was made from Italian silver. Dull yet antique. She placed it in my hand, and as I opened it, she told me, "February 15, 1962. That was the day I met him. We were both assigned on an oil rig out in the Indian Ocean. He was an infantryman and I was a nurse."
"That's sweet." I asked her, "What does 'U.T.F.' stand for?"
"Unidentified Tactical Forces. We were a private army owned by a good friend of ours—the one who owned that oil rig. Legion was a unit made within that affiliation." She carefully peeled the badge off its velcro base and lightly tapped it on her chin. "The others were brave, stoic, and seasoned. They were the real soldiers. Mitchell and I—we were just kids. Madly in love, new to the scene, had no clue what was going on. Well, until now, we don't quite know what to do, how to buy a house, or how to just settle down like people our age are supposed to. We're lost in that regard."
Inside the locket were pictures of her and the general when they served in the U.T.F. The doctor was young, beautiful, and had stellar, siren eyes. The general—properly groomed in his dress uniform, wearing a fresh, chiseled smile on his face. They were a beautiful couple, and Father Time treated them well.
"You two have young spirits is all," I replied.
"Yeah? Well, we need old souls."
"And I envy whatever you two have—"
"Don't." She grabbed the back of my hand and laid a soft kiss on it before retrieving her locket. "Each and every one of us is unique and special. Whatever we have as individuals can never be replicated. How we matter to someone is in our choices. It's in what we do, and that's something DNA can't replicate. So, don't envy us."
"I just don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I feel like I know what I want, and then… and then nothing."
The doctor wrapped the locket's chain around her knuckles. "You know, my father gave this to me on his deathbed. It was actually my mother's, but he held onto it when she passed. I keep their pictures in my wallet now. He told me to use this for me and Mitchell. I remember him saying to me: 'the heart tells us where to go, and the brain tells us how to get there', and that was the truth. Mitchell wanted me, and so, he did what he had to do to keep me close. I did the same for him, and we both did the same for Anais. It's not an intuition thing, Elisabeth. It comes from the heart, and when it comes from the heart, the best thing to do is just let it play out. You think you know what you want… but you'll always get something better if you let passion guide you."
I wanted justice for my husband, and that snippet from the voice recorder was going to lead me to it.
"I'll tell you what." The doctor patted her knees and said to me, "Let's head back to Fort Lee before this pier fight blows out. They'll be using enemy artillery anyway. You and I will have no business being here when that happens. If the general is still in Old Palisades, then I'll talk to him. My mind is… clearer now. I'm sure Anais is back there as well. I made it sound like there was something for you by saying: 'I'll tell you what'. The truth is I just don't want you out here any longer."
"Okay…"
"Let's go, Elisabeth."
English Street.
I took a nap on the front porch of our home, my head down and locked in between my knees. Suddenly, heavy footsteps abused the wooden floorboards and woke me from my slumber. It was hard trying to catch some z's, especially since it was reported that shots had been fired along Old Palisades. God, nowhere was safe. Nowhere. I looked up to see who was marching up the front steps. It was Lieutenant Miller, twirling his car keys before stashing them in his pocket.
"I thought you were supposed to be ambushing the piers," I told him.
"And I thought you were supposed to be within prince charming's sights." The lieutenant sat beside me.
"Is that an attack?"
"You tell me."
I asked him, "Why are you here?"
"I didn't want Yuki there a second longer. I drove her back. She's in the shower. You should've seen her waltz in there."
"I just got here."
"Oh…" Ever since expressing his gratitude to me, he spoke a tad bit softer. He also spoke to me like an equal, like I knew the things he knew. "Well, she said that you guys came across the 'nucleus' of the whole thing and found intel in the form of a tape. Well, a tape and a voice recorder according to her."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. SHe lost them or some shit. Couldn't find 'em."
I hadn't gotten to it, though I was planning on stashing the tickler and those other things under the floorboards beneath my bed. While they were still on me, my arms remained at my sides. "That's a bummer. What do you think could've been on that tape—"
"I didn't lose them." The O-Peck secretary emerged between us, zipping past our shoulders and swiping the keys from the lieutenant's pockets. "They were taken, or— or hidden. I don't know, but we have to get them back."
Lieutenant Miller scoffed, "Says who?"
"You know, I don't report to you. I don't have to follow whatever orders you throw my way. Bark all you want. I don't care."
The man tittered, elbowing my side as if the secretary's remark was funny in general. "The shade, the angst. How do you do it, Yuki?"
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you here—"
"Liar," Ms. Matsumoto looked like a crazed woman as she raised her finger at the lieutenant. His calm demeanor was driving her nuts. She couldn't stand him like that. "You said you wanted me gone. I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you'd ought to just… run away from your problems instead of dealing with them."
"You're not a problem, Yuki."
"Then what is?"
Lieutenant Miller pointed east, "Those fuckin' cheese-eaters—they're my problem. Not you. It's not my mission to give you the cold shoulder, although it seems like it. I'm just doing my best to keep you safe, and going back for those 'evidences' goes against it. You're lucky I'm not smacking you upside the head or cussing you up."
"You push and pull, Trevor. Push and pull."
The O-Peck secretary pushed him away and threw him the car keys.
Bang!
She slammed the door behind us.
"There we go." The lieutenant pointed at her beyond the door and told me, "That's the kind of behavior I wanted from her."
"What behavior?" I asked him.
"Lowering her standards, killing that gay hope."
"Hope for what?"
He sighed. "Things aren't gonna work out between us. She wants something, but it comes at a price. She thinks it's a price she can afford. I know it's a price I can't pay. I mean, you can't pay me to forget what I did. I'll never forget what I did."
"You're… You're calling quits?"
"Those memories are torture, Babes."
"Pushing and pulling—that's torturing her." I proceeded to ask him, "Do you remember what I said about Tommy?"
Lieutenant Miller nodded.
"That's that then." He tried to dodge my stare, though my eyes were glued to him. "When I told you about that—about how that ate me up inside—I was hoping that you would do something about this."
"Then, what do you want me to do?"
"That's not my call, but I am hoping you do something."
"You know what?" He pranced before the porch, kicking stones and taking out his flask. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to… live vicariously through my life. You're trying to… to correct my wrong doings because you probably find joy in that, don't you?"
"I'm just lending a hand," I responded. "You saved my life. I figured maybe there was something you needed help with. You know… In return?"
"Saving Yuki was enough, and it wasn't even anything I was asking for."
I had enough at that point. I swear, all the blood in my body rushed to my fists, feeding my urge to just land one square on his big, stupid nose. That man played around, even when he wasn't in the mood to.
"It was the right and only thing to do." I hopped off the steps and followed him around as he paced back and forth in front of the home. "I wasn't going to just run away and hide somewhere. We're talking about a life—an ally. I was the one with the gun, so she was my responsibility. If you just keep pushing her away, then it makes it seem like my efforts were all for nothing. So, yeah. Maybe I am, in some way, living vicariously through you because the path you're leading yourself down is just so unsatisfactory. Maybe I can get a high on the tiny corrections that are so few and far between that you still seem to brush off and take for granted."
The lieutenant grew accustomed to the way I'd talk back at him, though I wouldn't usually snap the way I did just then. The only thing on my mind ever since the hospital were those records I pilfered from the enemy camp. I was disturbed by what I had heard.
"You seem a little off today. You good?" he asked me.
"I'm fine."
"Look, I'm heading out. There's a bar along Old Palisades." He tipped his flask upside down. It was empty. "You coming?"
I had nowhere else to be. "Sure… Do they have food?"
"Trail mix? Plybread?"
* * *
Captain Finer ordered the lieutenant to stay on the west side of the river, saying that he was in no condition to join the ambush at the pier. The lieutenant didn't fight him about it anymore. The two of us rode down to Old Palisades in the same, silver sedan that the captain drove when we first went to that church to interrogate St. Vier.
Those car seats were better than any cotton bed I had ever pressed my poor back against. It didn't swallow me whole nor did it neglect the grooves of my spine. It was like a portable bedroom. Why didn't they make all beds like that?
"I appreciate what you're trying to do," Lieutenant Miller woke me from my short nap… again. "You're trying to help people around here, and that's a damn good thing to be doing. And, look, I get it. What happened between you and Tommy—that shit must've sucked. That kind of thing hurts a lot, and I am in no position to tell you how you should feel about that. With that said, Yuki is my person. I know you're hoping that the 'what-could've-been' between you and your husband can serve as a blueprint for me, but it's just not like that, Babes."
"I understand, Lieutenant."
Click, Boom! was the name of the bar that we stopped by. It used to be a comedy club type thing, but ever since the expansion of the DMZ, most establishments such as that one closed up quickly, not because store owners were afraid or anything, but because molotov cocktails became the first resort for the American resistance. They ran dry for liberty's namesake, burning French banknotes and flipping off Hexagon troops. Dry business.
"Miller, Baby…"
Seated at the far side of the bar was General Vergs playing cards with Mr. pie. They sat at a roundtable in the corner of the joint, observing the streets through windows. Lieutenant Miller was quick to join them, though I slowed down in my saunter, taken aback by the bodies tucked away behind the bar. You could see Hexagon armbands peeking from the counter.
General Vergs gave his fan of cards to the lieutenant and exited the booth, heading my way. He didn't appear drunk nor out-of-it, though he did have a red mark on the side of his face in the shape of a hand.
I asked him while pointing at my own cheek, "What's that?"
"That… is the price of keeping secrets for too long." The general chuckled, "Emily came by earlier. We hashed things out properly this time. The first time we did, it was insults and… Well, the mark of the beast says it all."
"I suppose."
"Here," General Vergs offered me a fat stack of bills. "Take it."
"I'm… I don't follow…"
"She also told me about those boxes of Xemperil that you obtained from their hive. For that, we are grateful, and so… take it. Go on. Take it, take it."
"It was no pretty deed, sir. I shot the person who needed them."
"And we've been shooting Hexagon troops for those who can't muster the courage to do so. It's a necessary evil, Baby." He folded up the bills and tucked them into my palm. "Emily is my partner. Anything you do for her is a favor you do for me."
"Thank you, sir." I told him as he tended the bar, "Surely, you came down here with a purpose."
"Ah, yes."
He asked me if I wanted a glass of liquor. I reckoned my "good deeds" deserved a little treat. Although alcohol wasn't my thing, the formality of it was something I could get behind. I was poured a dollop of 1981 "Trois Six Trois" which was a French whiskey that General Vergs had a liking for. My sipping glass was cold. His was lukewarm. He told me that the colder the glass, the smoother the liquor would run down your throat. He had a day, so he wanted the burn.
"Pope sent a letter," I was informed. "We reported back to Nyack regarding the university hospital that was overrun by Eyes and Ears. Even though we're incapable of reclaiming territory across the Hudson, their supplies and their staff could be of use once we return to Mercado Lane."
"Pope came up with that?"
"On a dime, she did. That means less funding for the Montefiore Hospital and decent pay for our troops." He tapped the bottom of his glass against the counter and downed his drink. "It's scary to think that things are on the upside. We've never been this lucky—not before you or Anais. Actually, Emily and I came into this thinking this was nothing but surrender-suicide. Congress—those beasts."
"Did they get in the way of something?"
General Vergs reached in his breast pocket and placed a ring beside my glass. It was beautiful. The thing was made from white gold and had a stone sitting on the top of it, sparkling in my eyes like a miniature kaleidoscope. "It was her mother's. She died in a car accident a while back. Her father—he was dying of polio. When it got worse, he made amends. He gave me his wife's ring. Until now, Emily doesn't know that I have it. She thought it was lost after the accident. Never to be found."
"And if Congress never stationed you here?"
"I don't know," he replied. "I'm not one to harp on what could've been." The general took the ring from the counter and fiddled with it as he told me, "You can really hold your own out there. I need a team to return to the hospital tomorrow morning and make sure that our friends from Eyes and Ears didn't crawl back to it. We're sending trucks to haul some plunders back to Nyack as per request of the county executive. With that said, we need someone to keep tabs on whatever we may find. I figured that journal could use some outside air, shed a little dust. Only if you're up for it."
"I am."
"This isn't a 'Harlem Piers' job, but it needs to be done just as bad. I can always count on you."
After some time, the general went back to the table, and Mr. Pie got up to converse with me.
"I'll have you know that those dolls were greatly appreciated. They arrived at the same time as that letter, so it made a pleasant gift."
"I'm glad I can help."
He asked me, "How's that .38 by the way?"
"Still broken."
Mr. Pie smacked his lips, "I told you to have it checked out."
"We never really got around to it."
He took the glass that the general drank from and poured the contents of his flask into it, salvaging a half-burnt cigarette beside it. "You still think that gun was worth the trade? Those glass dolls were a good conversation-starter. A real icebreaker. What luck has that piece-of-crap old army gotten you?"
"We'll see." I asked him, "How's business?"
"Ah, business."
"You say 'business' as if that ship has sailed."
"It did. The general offered me a position in the armory. Now, instead of trading, he has me cleaning arms and keeping records in exchange for a room with a bed and a butane stove. That's five stars for me."
A butane. Man, that would've been nice to have around. "That's five stars for anyone." I asked him, "What did Pope say about that? About volunteering in the regiment instead of putting up shop?"
"She didn't want a gun store in Nyack in the first place. If Vergs hadn't offered me that job, I'd probably be hunting rabbits every Sunday for some asshole butcher along Mercado Lane. Hey, people gotta eat, but no-fucking-thanks if that's what I'm doing."
"So, no part of you's gonna miss that scene?"
"My lumbago's pretty bad, darlin'. A bed's all I need."
The entire time that Mr. Pie and I were engaging in conversation, there was this… shadowy figure outside the bar, peeking through the window. At first, I didn't think much about it. In the corner of my eye, he swayed, he tiptoed. There was a shimmer that came from where he stood. I had a hunch that he was spying on us through a scope. My gut conditioned me to think that Eyes and Ears were on our tail, though still, I didn't want to alarm any folk. I mean, we were on Old Palisades. Everything was fine.
Just as I turned my head, he was gone.
You know, I should've said something. I should've spoken. That was the perfect time to cry wolf, false alarm or not. I won't say much just yet… but I paid the price for turning a blind eye.
It could've been different.
Oct. 13, 1992
It's the final stretch. Of course, I'll be doing the safest task which is investigating the university hospital but not before surveilling the river from Grantwood which is further south from Fort Lee. I'll be riding into the mission area with 1Lt. Miller.
Pali' will be scattered for this last push. Capt. Finer will be leading the charge on the Harlem Piers along with Anais and St. Vier while Gen. Vergs, O-Peck, and Pope's militiamen further advance into Edgewater. Ms. Matsumoto requested she be brought back to Teaneck. She said she couldn't handle the pressure.
Just outside The Click, Boom!
The Pali' convoy was on my right. Ms. Matsumoto's escort on my left. Before we rode out of Fort Lee, the guys huddled together, reciting the game plan over and over again like it was a code. It began to sound like a chant. While they glued themselves into a crowd, I assisted the O-peck secretary in packing her belongings and stuffing them in the trunk of her car. It was parked tail-to-tail with the silver sedan—the last car in line with the eastward convoy.
The secretary was kind and gentle when I lifted her roller bags into the trunk, but I could tell that she was holding something back whether it be rage or resentment. All I could say is that she looked like she regretted coming down there in the first place.
"I never really thanked you for saving my life back at Tellers Tower," she said.
"Well, I wasn't going to leave you there."
She looked at the squad, at the lieutenant, and then said to me, "He's a good man… He is a great man, but he thinks he isn't." That sounded like how I'd describe Tommy. "He's the reason I've become brave. Not strong, but brave. You know, he was worth taking those risks, those chances." She wanted to talk to him. I saw that in the way she gripped the bottom of her blouse, twisting it as if she was drying a rag. "He's changed however… For the greater good, I'm not sure. Smoking, drinking—it's killing him. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with—"
"Oh, don't be. I'm… I'm just as concerned." I let a moment of silence pass before suggesting that she should say something to him. They were both on the verge of never crossing paths ever again. They reeled me in with their issues, with their drama. I became their on-call middleman, and I made that a duty I couldn't leave unresolved. I never told either of them, but it hit close to home for me. How they fought, how they quarreled. I didn't want them to regret passing up on the chance. "You know, you can always hash things out."
"Mrs. Baby—"
"At least get some closure for the both of you. Trust me. The mystery, the fact that things'll be left unsaid—it's a slow-killer. It's a painful killer."
She opened the driver's side door and paused for a moment, reluctant to leave Fort Lee behind. "I can't." Before hopping in for good, she gave me her compass and said, "Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I didn't mean to bother him or to remind him of what happened in the past. It probably came back to haunt him the moment I showed up."
"Ms. Matsumoto, with all due respect, you can't just—"
Lieutenant Miller exited the bar. With the collar of his uniform soaked in drool and booze, he ambled his way to the secretary's car.
"Baby…"
He waved his hand at me, telling me to step aside, though I was watching his hands. The man was wasted. I didn't know if he was going to hit her or not. Ms. Matsumoto didn't appear afraid however. Not even in the slightest. After standing beside the secretary's car, he said nothing more. All he did was smile vaguely, agitating the woman.
"Go ahead," said Ms. Matsumoto. "Hit me. Yell at me. Shout. Spit. Do something." She had a thing for slamming doors. Upon exiting, the secretary swung her car door so hard that her windshield was left with a crack. "Pull my hair out if that's how you'll do it."
He offered to help with her luggage. "Is there anything I can do?"
Ms. Matsumoto planted her feet flat on the concrete, held her chest high, and answered, "No. I believe I'm set." She stood like a statue.
Carefully, with pent-up aggression pumping through the veins on his forehead, Lieutenant Miller asked for the compass. When I handed it to him, he flicked it like it was a coin. "I'm afraid, Yuki. I'm afraid that I still might smack you in your face. I'm afraid that if you want me so bad, I might just succumb to you and be your poison forever."
She got her answer. It just wasn't the one she was expecting. "Drink, smoke. I don't care. Come hell or high water, I'll come running back to you. What's so bad about that?"
"It's hard, Yuki. It's hard and I'm tired."
"This is what you want?"
"It is."
When all was said and done, their fingers met, then their palms, then their heads… then their hearts. I'll be honest, I was enjoying myself. Yes, I did live vicariously through the two of them. They were a version of Tommy and I if Tommy hadn't volunteered in Pali'. They were the version of us if he and I just communicated. Every word spoken, I felt in my heart, my soul. Ms. Matsumoto couldn't persuade any longer. She too figured it was time to let go, but it was the healthy thing to do.
Riverside Drive, on route to the university hospital.
"We're in and out just like that." The lieutenant kept snapping his fingers as he prepared himself mentally and physically for the final stretch. I was doing the same, though I was nowhere near as jumpy as he was. "Frenchies pop out of a corner—bang! Two more—bang, bang! No more freezing. If they're strong—bang! If they're sickly—double-bang! You got that, Babes?"
I looked out my window, learning to admire the perpetual ashfall. "Yes, sir."
And then, out of nowhere, "Closure… I never thought of closure before."
"Hm?"
"A few rides up to Teaneck every now and then as… as friends. Maybe that can work. I think that's the way to go. It's better than just locking her up."
"It is."
"And putting up with the two of us—I haven't thanked you for that yet. I guess writing to O-Peck was the right thing to do after all. I was wrong about that."
"Closure doesn't mean it's over," I remember telling him. "It just gives you a second chance to establish a bond with her from a different perspective. It's healthy what you two did, and I'm happy for the both of you."
"Amen." He then quipped, "When do I get to return the favor?"
"Favor?"
"Noby." He handed me a lipstick from his shirt pocket. "It's Yuki's. I swiped it when I drove her back to English Street as a joke. But since she's gone, maybe you'd wanna keep it. You know, Captain Finer'll be looking forward to hanging around The Click, Boom! once this thing is over and done with. Do yourself a favor and live a little. I asked him to do the same."
"I see…"
"And because of how frail and pale you are, that's an order."
I took the lipstick from his fingers and raised it like I was preparing for a toast. "Thank you, though I'm not one to touch up heavily. Actually, it's been a while."
"Why? When was the last time you fixed up for someone?"
"My wedding—"
Hiss…
We were running on empty.
The place where our sedan stalled was a dead-quiet stretch, so there was nothing but trees and lines. Signs were few and far between, so we had no idea approximately how far we were from the hospital. Trekking wasn't an option nor was push-starting the car. And since we had already parted from the convoy, we were left in the dust. Not an armored car in sight. Lieutenant Miller and I hopped out to investigate, leaving our doors swinging. Maybe we blew a tire or ran over a racoon.
"Shit," said the lieutenant. "Our tank's punctured."
"Is it bad?"
"I'm afraid so." He stuck his fingers under the car to get a good feel. "We're pouring fast." He then wiped his hands clean and proceeded to radio in on the captain. "Is anyone there?"
It took Captain Finer a while to respond, but thankfully, he did. "Miller, SITREP."
"We're empty. Tank's punctured."
"Shit," the captain exclaimed. "Alright. Where are you?"
"Riverside Drive. The long stretch of it."
"Okay. Stay where you are. I'm coming to your location—"
"Negative…"
"What do you mean 'negative'?"
A sparkle of light shone from the woods. It was the shimmer of death. Lieutenant Miller and I froze up like mannequins, shivering. Ever so gently, he and I turned back and slowly inched our way to the doors. His was open. Mine wasn't. I should've taken that as a sign.
He hopped in and started the car, whispering to me, "Stop looking around. Just be quiet and get in… slowly."
That final stretch meant something else to us. It was more serious than just another drive or just another stop. I think it meant something else to the Hexagon as well. That's why every second of every minute of every hour… it felt like we were being watched. Captain Finer was able to get the message when we no longer responded to his queries over the radio. He went quiet, too.
With my right hand, I grabbed the handle on my door and pulled it until I heard a click. It was a different kind of click. I never heard that on the sedan before. The lieutenant had his foot hovering over the gas and his grip ready to go crazy on the gearbox. We were going to zip past that street with whatever we had left in the tank. But then…
Click, boom!
A surge of heat devoured me whole, tearing my skin, singeing my hair. I grew blind and numb. After was a forceful blast that whipped my head back faster than I could even process what was going on. The only thing I saw before going black was a red mist that rose from where the lieutenant sat.
Thud!
My body hit the asphalt, burns all over. I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe. The shrapnel in my knees locked out my legs. I couldn't bend them. Well, even without them, that devastating blast left me stiff as a board.
We were riding an IED that entire time… A damn car bomb.