Escondido
Sarah descended the stairs from the roof, having finally put her storm to bed. She moved languidly, feeling the play of her leg muscles and the pressure of the stair treads against the soles of her feet. She felt serene, heavy-limbed, and lethargic, the way she felt after a long swim, or a lengthy soak in the hot tub, or very good sex. Building the storm had been something like each of those experiences, yet, in whole, like nothing she'd ever experienced. She'd sensed the complex forces at work so deeply it seemed as if she was a part of them; and, for a time, she had been. She'd been swept up in it all, ridden it, steered it; and when she'd cast the storm loose to spend itself, she'd felt an almost coital release.
She paused at the second-floor landing, deciding between a shower and a snack, then took the stairs. She smiled to herself. Got the munchies. Next, I suppose, I'll be tossing Roxanne's room for a cigarette.
Her bubble popped when she saw the note on the little round table in the kitchen. She sat down, puzzling over it for a while, until she heard the soft chime that indicated someone using the keypad outside the back door. She got up and looked into the hall, and her heart leaped into her throat before she recognized the dirty, uniformed man pushing through the door. "Bobby?"
He gave her a weary smile. "Hi."
She hurried down the hall towards him. "What are you wearing?"
"The uniform of the Genactive Resistance," Eddie said importantly as he and Roxanne came through the door, similarly dressed. "Wear it proudly, for we are butt-kickers supreme. You must not've been in your room since we left. Anna laid out a set just like. Not our usual school threads, but we've had a learning experience, just the same."
As Bobby reached for her, Caitlin stepped through the door, and she got another surprise. "God in heaven, what is that?"
Caitlin rested the butt of a huge rifle on her hip; the ammunition belt that fed it was wrapped around her arm, Rambo-style. "M-60 machine gun, seven-point-six-two millimeter. I never fired it, but lugging it around might have saved me bashing some heads. I'm sure quite a few guys ducked for cover when they saw me with it. They might not have known what Gens can do, but they understand firepower." The big redhead smiled down at her as she felt Bobby's arm circle her waist. "The ones who weren't still under cover from the storm, that is. You did half the job before we got there, Sarah."
"Yeah," Eddie chimed in. "A storm to make them scared to come out of their holes, just as ordered."
She noticed that Caitlin had closed the door behind her. "Where's Bobby's dad? And Anna? And who's Dixie?"
The group stilled. Caitlin said, "What do you know about Dixie?"
She led them to Anna's kitchen office and showed them the note.
...
Darlings,
I wanted to greet you at home, but something has come up. I'll be back in two or three days, and I'll call before then. Eat out of the pantry and freezer until I'm home, and then I'll fix a victory banquet.
Love you all.
P.S. She probably won't offer anyway, but don't let Dixie cook. The woman couldn't boil water without setting the kitchen on fire, I swear.
...
"Dixie is another one of Anna's little disguises. Like that babe in the garden, only more so. Much more so. You won't even be sure it's Anna after you talk to her." Eddie smiled. "Think we'll ever see her again?" The look the boys exchanged made her feel a ridiculous little twinge of jealousy, until Bobby's grip on her tightened. She inhaled, smelling mesquite smoke under the odor of damp cloth, and regained her composure.
"If not, we'll be seeing another stranger with Anna's dimples someday, is my guess. Bro, you hit the shower first. I'll wait."
Caitlin glanced at Roxanne. "Ditto."
"The shower's plenty big for two, Sis."
"Not when one of them is me. Besides, I'm not letting go of this thing before I put it away." She glanced at Bobby and her. "I won't be long." She turned for the back stairwell.
Eddie gave Roxy a crooked smile. "If you're feeling all… wound up from our brush with death, we could free up one of the showers."
"As if. You just came through a fight with a hundred guys without a scratch. You really want to end the day by getting beat to death by my sister?"
He shrugged, still smiling. "Had to ask. You might wonder if I'm okay." They headed for the front stairs.
Kat rejoined Bobby and her still in the nook a few minutes later, as Bobby finished a more detailed description of Anna's alter ego, "Dixie". While Kat fired up the coffeemaker, she said, "Guess you were right about that, Sis. The 'Anna' we know is just a role. The lead role, but still…"
Bobby flicked a glance toward the door, and Sarah realized Caitlin's use of 'Sis' had him looking for Roxanne. Going to have to tell everyone soon, starting with Roxanne. "I was wrong where it counted, Caitlin. Everybody plays roles, roles that change with your company or your circumstances. Different as this 'Dixie' may seem, I'll bet she'd never do anything to harm us."
"No," Bobby said. "But she wouldn't be easy to live with. Are you sure she's going to change back?"
"Dixie told me that the 'Anna' we… Oh, hell. The Anna we love. She's the default setting, and we can count on her coming back when 'Dixie's' job is done." Caitlin looked deeply troubled. "But I'm not entirely sure what her mission is, or how long it'll really last."
Bobby leaned forward. "So, why did she stay behind?"
"She hinted that changing back and forth would take time. That's why she kept to herself yesterday. Now that we'd know what she's up to, I bet she wouldn't want to do it around us. To keep up the pretense. Now I know why I couldn't find her duffel on the plane." Kat poured coffee into three mugs and prepared them: black for Bobby, sugar for herself, a touch of cream and sugar for her. Sarah noted without comment that the big redhead had chosen John Lynch's favorite mug.
Kat brought the mugs, served them, and sat, then picked up the note. "She planned it this way from the beginning, obviously. I suppose, after we split up, she played Genactive terrorist for every IO witness she could find. I have hopes she didn't kill anybody."
Bobby laid his hand over Kat's. "So what do we need to do?"
"Play along. She's gone to great lengths to compartmentalize this alter ego of hers. When she calls, we'll tell her Dixie stayed behind, and she'll act surprised. When she comes home, she'll have a plausible excuse for three days' absence, which we should pretend to believe. And if we ever talk about Dixie in Anna's hearing, we'll act as if she's what Dixie claimed she is: an old friend and associate of Anna's, a rogue Gen, part of a group opposed to IO that's trying to recruit us."
Eddie entered the kitchen, headed for the coffeemaker, and poured the last of the brew into a mug.
Sarah smiled. "That was quick. I can't even get my makeup off that fast. Are you sure you got behind your ears?"
He turned, leaned against the counter, and took a sip. "If I missed a spot, it wasn't there. Wanna do an inspection, Princess?"
"I'll leave that to Roxanne. And why are you guys all calling me 'Princess'?"
He sipped again. "It's what 'Sarah' means, in Hebrew. And Rox and I been calling you that almost since we met you, just not to your face."
To cover her momentary fluster, she said, "Where is she, by the way? Not out of the shower yet?"
"Water was still running when I came down. I don't expect to see her downstairs for an hour. She's sending some nightmares down the drain, I think." He sipped again. "Had fun, but it sure is nice to be home."
"Why?" The sharpness of Kat's voice startled them all.
Eddie shifted slightly. "You know. Something familiar."
"'Familiar.' We've barely been in this house a week. Before that, we didn't know it existed. We sure didn't know we'd be moving in with just the clothes on our backs. Bet you're wearing that shirt for the first time ever." She bunched up a fistful of her vest. "Speaking of which. Until today, a Girl Scout uniform was the only one I ever wore, unless you count my swimsuit for water polo. I don't even shoot air rifles at carnivals. Ten minutes ago, I racked a machine gun in the basement that would put holes in a block wall."
She looked around the kitchen. "Ever since we ran away from the Project, Anna's been our anchor, even more than Mr. Lynch. Now she's gone, with no guarantee she's coming back, or that she'll be the same if she does. That leaves us with Bobby's dad, a professional killer toying with insanity."
"Kat!"
"It's true, Bobby. Every time he uses his Gen. And the effect's cumulative. Ask him how many of the Twelves are still alive and have all their marbles."
"My father's not crazy, Kat. He's the sanest guy I ever met."
"Yet you don't trust him."
"I just put my life in his hands."
"But do you believe him? When he says he never quit looking for you? When he blames himself for your mother's death, don't you still curl your lip a little?"
"No." His hand squeezed Kat's. "I'm still not comfortable around him, but I believe him. He's a good man, and he's trying to be a good father. Any strain between us is my problem, not his."
"There," Eddie said. "Now, that's what I'm talking about." When they turned to him, he went on. "Kat blowing off steam over something dumb that's been bothering her, so she can get back to being cool and responsible. You three playing grownup whenever the Mr. and Mrs. are out of the house. Familiar, as in 'family'. Home isn't a place we moved into, Red. It's something we brought with us." He set his mug on the counter and massaged Kat's shoulders. "Gotta relax a little, Miss Meticulous. The universe is unfolding as it should, all of that. It doesn't belong on these shoulders." He bent low. "Let it go, Team Leader. Be a girl for a while."
Kat looked across the table at her, a faint smile touching her lips. "Okay, Eddie. Point taken. Thanks for the advice and the shoulder rub. Now you know I wore the leotard. You can stop trying to look down my shirt now."
-0-
"Thanks for the lift, Jock. But I hope yer not plannin to take too long gettin home. The towhead ain't there, an yer kids need you." She grinned. "Leastways, I think thass the way it works."
They walked out the door of the old semi garage nestled among the wooded ridges a few miles east of town. It didn't look big enough for a plane of any size, but the back wall of the original structure had been dug into the steep hillside, and Lynch had had the excavation extended until most of the interior was underground. He was still in his black travel clothes, but she was wearing Anna's, with the jacket unzipped and its hood thrown back. She'd unbound her hair, and it spilled loose over the upper half of her body. Looking at her made him ache for his wife. "I can drop you at a hotel, and you can call for a pickup later, if you want. After you've… concluded your business."
"Oh, you'll get a phone call, aright. But it won't be me yer pickin up. Change back is started arready. Doan forget the bag in the back." She carried a small pack hardly bigger than a purse; the duffel was in the rental's trunk. He briefly imagined the Hertz people finding it and examining its contents.
He led her to his car. "You know, I've traveled through the South. But I can't place your accent."
"Didn't stay in one place long when I was a kid. My accent's what a linguistics expert would call 'muddy,' meanin it's a hodgepodge of Southern dialects, an he cain't tell where I come from by listenin to it."
He offered her a small smile. "Of course."
"A course."
On the drive to the motel, she said, "Ya know, the boys at IO won't stay convinced, if this is the only run-in they have with the Resistance. Gonna have to stage some more appearances by Twelve-fives if you wanna keep em chasin that wild goose."
Lynch pulled the car in front of the motel office. "I know. I also know that if we stage enough of them, it won't be a bluff any more. It really will be a war."
She gave him an odd smile. "If it looks like a duck…"
"So, you think we'll meet again?"
"Prolly not. Gotta give Ivana some variety." She turned to him. "Check in with me?"
"What?"
She shook her head. "Doan get yer shorts in a bunch, Jock. A man an a woman's jus' less suspicious than a woman alone, is all."
She came into the office with him, and rested a hand on his forearm as he filled out the paperwork. He watched the clerk glance back and forth, from the tall man with the eyepatch to the possible jailbait at his side. "Doan even think it, stud," she said to the clerk, her voice low and very mature. "We been married fifteen years."
Lynch chuckled. "And you look just like you did when I married you. You should be used to the stares by now."
She smiled. "Clean livin, exercise, an Botox."
He drove her to her unit. As he brought the car to a stop at the door, she turned to him and tilted her head slightly towards the still-visible office window. "If yer not comin in, ya better gimme a kiss, at least."
He leaned forward to brush his lips against hers, only to find her arms around his neck and a small hand at the back of his head, making withdrawal impossible. She looked into his eyes. "I cun figure what she saw in you, at first. Now I unnerstand why she does it all. G'bye, John Lynch." She bussed him gently but thoroughly, then opened her door, reaching behind the seat for her bag. "'Spect her to call tomorrow night. Say bye to the kids for me." She unlocked the unit's door swiftly, slipped inside, and shut it.
He sat, unmoving, for a few minutes, watching the unit's closed curtain, before he put the car in gear and drove away.
8