Chapter 10

Linka

On our second day off in a row, I realize that my first instinct was not to immediately seek out Greg. This leaves me feeling uneasy, confused even. I search inside myself to find some truth, some answers, but all I feel is ambiguity. Then, I tell myself that I was probably looking forward so much to relaxing that I simply forgot about Greg. My own reasoning seems wild to me. So I try to better myself, try to make things right by heading off to his workplace. I am sure he will enjoy a surprise visit from me. I plan to arrive by lunchtime so that we can head off to a nearby café and eat something together.

As I cross the metal gates of the factory, I distractedly run a hand through my hair. I am not sure why I feel the need to gather myself before I see Greg. It is as if I am mentally preparing myself for... something. I do not know what! It is just... not as natural to be around him as it is with the rest of my friends. Or maybe it is that damn Yankee putting strange thoughts in my head! As much as I try to rationalize it, however, it really hit me that Wheeler noticed Greg's not so gentle way of treating me. Of course, what Wheeler does not know is that Greg is not always like that with me, only when he is very riled up. And that does not happen often, anyway. Maybe it is me who needs to calm down a little. I am quite aware that I have a fiery personality, as well as entertaining the need to be right when it comes to arguments. As Wheeler says, I need to chill. Greg is very mature so maybe I am the one who is being childish when it comes to these things.

I take a deep breath and set my shoulders back, and already I feel braver. All is quiet around me, leading me to assume that most workers are already enjoying their lunches. I turn into a small pathway, which leads to the back entrance of the offices. Greg is most likely to be there. It is not long before I hear strange sounds and I instinctive turn in the direction my ears are suggesting.

My body freezes in its tracks when my eyes take in the scene before me. There is a man sprawled out on the lawn, and I cannot tell how conscious he is. He is half moaning out, half choking. Greg is sitting on his torso, swinging repeated punches to the man's face. The sound his fist makes as it comes into contact with the man's skull is one of the most terrifying things I have ever heard. Greg's eyes are filled with a rage that makes them appear almost vacant. A chill runs over my entire body and suddenly I am calling out to him, and it comes out as a plea.

"Greg!"

I am running towards them now and in a panic I pull on Greg's arm, trying to get him to stop the massacre on the man's face, which I can now see is a bloody mask.

"Stop!" I yell, but the propulsion of his swinging arm sends me to the ground and I fall back on the grass into a sitting position. Greg does not seem to be hearing me or perhaps he is ignoring the unexpected interruption. I do the only thing I can think of in a time like this, on an instinct, and hold out my arm, feeling determination awakening inside me.

"Wind!"

I create a small whirlwind, which picks up Greg and sets him on the other side of the lawn. I am quickly scurrying to the injured man and am greeted by the horrific sight of blood and mangled flesh.

"Help me," the man whispers, wheezing and coughing out blood. With shaky hands, I take off my jacket and place it gently behind his head, afraid that he will choke on the blood that is running down his nose like streams.

My stomach feels like it will bring up its contents to the surface and I look up. By some miracle, there are two workers slowly approaching in the distance.

"Call an ambulance!" I instruct them at the top of my lungs, frantic and suddenly dry-mouthed. "Quick!"

The next minutes are a blur set to the sound of my crazed heartbeat, and all I can do is look into the man's face as I try to reassure him that everything is going to be all right. The poor soul is moaning and trying to cry, but it is all such a mess that his face is unable to respond to the signals his brain is sending. I have a feeling this deranged image will be with me for a long time.

I breathe a sigh of relief as, minutes later, the man is being placed delicately on a stretcher by the paramedics and rushed off to hospital. I am still sitting on the grass, and I notice my hands are bloodied. My jacket is crumpled and stained red and as I get up, I try to push the nausea down my stomach. I take deep breaths and I stagger to a small water fountain so I can clean my hands. Greg is nowhere to be seen.

Somehow, my feet have decided to continue my previous journey and the next thing I know, I am standing outside the offices. I do not even bother knocking and I enter what I know is the main office. Greg is sitting behind the desk, typing away on his laptop. His face is an unreadable mask. He does not seem bothered by the fact that only moments ago, a human being was slowly bleeding to death on the grass outside his office. There are tiny drops of blood on his blue shirt and I cringe. My hand starts to shake against the doorknob and I pull my arms close to my body, clasping both my hands in front of me to steady them.

"What happened?" I hear myself asking, but the questions are many and my emotions are as battered as that poor man I just saved. It dawns on me and my eyes become wide. "You would have killed him, Greg, had I not intervened!"

Greg snorts and snaps his laptop to a close. I jump at the sound it makes, the echo of my heartbeat drowning out the rest.

"It's nice to know where your loyalties lie, by the way."

His eyes are so cold I barely recognize him. I cannot understand how he cannot be shaken up by what just happened. How can he be immune to such brutality?

"I could not stand by and watch you murder a man!"

"Will you quit being so dramatic, Miss Superhero? I was only making sure he got the point."

I shake my head, not sure how to continue this ludicrous conversation. My body is uselessly standing in the doorway, and I realize I dare not go further. My mind finds it difficult to process how calm Greg is, as if this is some game to him. Or... as if he has done this before.

"Thanks for asking, but that man was trying to blackmail both me and my father. He would have brought the whole plant down, and I'll be damned if I don't go down without a fight."

"I do not care about your reasons! Nothing justifies what you were doing to that man!" I am suddenly angry and my nails are digging into my clenched fists.

I spend a good part of my life defending the helpless and bettering the world, and when I am faced with such hatred and ugliness, a raw fury rises inside me. These things make my purpose in life, my work, insignificant, overriding all my efforts. And I very much hate to be written off like that.

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have magical rings like yours, so I have to make do with mere physical strength."

Greg is grinning as if he is actually amused by this. Bozhe moi! I do not think I have ever been more stunned in my life. Or appalled.

"Or maybe you can teach me how not to lose my temper? Maybe hug some trees instead?"

My eyes narrow and I am glaring at Greg, like a lioness ready to pounce. My mind is numb and suddenly this office feels like it could choke the air out of my lungs. I turn and disappear into the hallway wordlessly, and only when I am outside do I run, needing the air to cleanse my spirit from the horror of this visit.

I let myself surrender to fear and my mind is filled with one disturbing question: who is Greg?