Chapter 18: Departure
The sun rose (a little too quickly and eagerly for Claes' taste) and the day came, but it had arrived too late to see her off. She was already bouncing in the passenger's seat of one of the many multitudes of trucks that the Desert Children had collected during their campaign against the Jackals when the first sleepy pink rays broke over the Algerian horizon. Claes sat in utter silence, her mind trying to multitask by both praying and mulling over her life simultaneously. She had nothing to live for now. Her life had been thrown away, her caution and worries seemed as if they no longer had anything to do with her, and to top it off she wasn't thinking at all about tomorrow. And why should she? After all, Claes didn't plan on living that much longer, and because of this, the threat she posed to anyone in her way multiplied to unimaginable, vomit-inducing heights.
Somewhere in Algiers, the head of security that was planning for the upcoming conference felt a cold, foreboding chill run inexplicably up his spine.
As she sat in the truck, Claes could feel every little rock and bump that caused even the slightest jounce in the vehicle. She could smell the oil that she had used to clean her new pistol, hear the tiniest, most insignificant creatures of the desert scurrying about in their blissful ignorance, and could taste the cold metallic blood that she hadn't even spilt yet. It seemed to Claes that life was only at its most vivid and vibrant when it was almost over. She decided to use these new senses of hers to review her last moments in the Desert Children encampment…
"…and once you've made contact with… Claes! Are you listening?" Marco barked sternly, looking here and there in search of the lost cyborg.
Claes poked her head around a parked truck. She and Marco had been walking through a maze of them, because for some unknown reason, the Desert Children felt the need to park them in the most random, movement-hindering way possible. "Of course I'm listening," Claes answered, "I just got a little lost. Have the DC ever seen a parking lot in their lives? And while I understand why we stole their bombs and other weapons, did we absolutely have to take every Jackal-owned vehicle we set our sights on?"
"That's not important," Marco replied impatiently, "Now come on, we don't have much time. It's almost sunrise."
Claes obeyed, keeping in step with Marco and trying to ignore him as he went over her mission for the tenth time. The twinkling stars were still visible, but the moon was low and dim now as the sun approached ever closer. It was perhaps two, maybe three hours away from sunrise. Claes shook her head and scowled slightly as she watched her time slip away in its inversely proportional relationship with the dawning of the day.
"Do you have your equipment?" Marco asked once, and then twice when Claes didn't respond.
"Hmm?" the cyborg said absent-mindedly, "Oh, yes." She lifted her short-sleeve T-shirt to reveal the Beretta in its holster strapped to the back of her olive cargo shorts. Marco wanted her to blend in as much as a little Italian girl in Algeria possibly could, but somehow his efforts seemed to be halfhearted at the most.
Marco took but a glance at the weapon's location before he asked critically, "What are you going to do when the military personnel pat you down?"
Claes didn't miss a beat. "Probably punch them in the throat," she said drily and without so much as looking at Marco.
The handler clicked his tongue and said disapprovingly, "That's no good, Claes. It would be best if you could start the violence after you take the shot. Otherwise, you're just taking unnecessary risks."
Claes tried to keep her tone under control when she answered, "Well, it wouldn't be smart of me to be toting an expensive handbag in these clothes, and besides that, even if I did have some kind of container to keep my weapon in, any half-competent security officer could find it."
"So you're deciding that it's better to keep the weapon within reaching distance if they're going to find it no matter what you do?"
Claes nodded without uttering a word.
"Claes," Marco said in a way that reminded the cyborg very much of the way Angelica had been speaking to her recently, "Could you at least try to stay alive? Just because the odds are against you, doesn't mean you should just give it all up. Do you think this is the way Raballo would have wanted you to handle this situation?"
At the mention of Raballo, Claes felt her jaw tighten involuntarily, but she let the slight go without breaking her stride. "I believe," she said slowly, "That Raballo wouldn't have wanted me to be in this situation in the first place."
Marco couldn't argue with her. She was absolutely right after all, and so he decided to diffuse the situation by saying, suddenly very calm and apologetic, "Let's just not start this again. I know you know all about what happened, but let's focus on the matter at hand for now. There will be plenty of time to talk about the past later."
"I honestly hope so," Claes said, mostly to herself. She too deemed argument at this point to be a waste of energy. She tired enough as it is.
Marco looked at his watch. "It's 0500 now. If you're ready to leave, then find Hadi, as he'll be your field correspondent for this operation. He should be out front, near the firing range."
Claes breathed deeply and swerved off in the direction indicated by Marco. However, she paused suddenly and for a reason unknown to her. She felt as if Marco wanted to tell her something, though he made no indication of this.
Then, as if Claes had foreseen the moment a second earlier, Marco sighed and said, "Claes…" He trailed off, waiting for her reply.
Claes rotated her head halfway and then moved her eyes to look at Marco. The rest of her body stayed planted where it was, facing away from him. Other than this, she didn't say anything to show that she was listening. Her posture was proof enough.
"…Just… don't take too long. Angelica will be – we will be waiting for you," he said with an averted gaze.
The fact that Marco was clearly torn between uttering a touching goodbye and being a typically stern and officious commanding officer actually made Claes smile for the first time in days. She knew exactly what he had meant to say, of course, and honestly, she was slightly moved. After all, there are few moments when Marco Togni is willing to swallow his pride and even fewer people that he's willing to do it for. It was because of this and not because of indifference that Claes replied by not replying. She simply smiled and walked away, leaving Marco with his pride intact, though half-digested.
As Claes made her way to the shooting range, she couldn't help but notice that there was still one other person that she hadn't said goodbye to and in fact she hadn't seen her since the night before. Claes had expected Angelica to be following her from the moment she left the tent, but when she had woken up, Angelica was nowhere to be found and the encampment was as still and lifeless as if it had been abandoned. Claes didn't think much of this, though. She knew Angelica would turn up eventually, and now that it was the last possible second, Claes predicted that she would turn up now.
And then, Lo! and behold, when Claes finally managed to find her way out of the massive labyrinth of tan-colored trucks, she saw Angelica, looking very distraught and upset, talking in hushed tones with Hadi al-Haidar. As Claes approached, Hadi spotted her and waved, smiling, while Angelica looked away hurriedly, seeming to be organizing something in her head.
Hadi clapped his large hand in a friendly manner on Claes' shoulder. "My girl," he said jovially, "What you are doing here is nothing short of a blessing. To me, you are a saint. I thank you for your sacrifice, and I only wish you would allow your friend here," he turned his head toward Angelica who was still performing her mental preparations, "To intervene and help you. But I have told her already that if she were to join you, Marco alone would remain, and although he is a good man and a strong leader, my old friend is helpless without the two of you."
Hadi laughed, trying to coax Claes to do the same, but the most she could manage was a slight, halfhearted smile. He sighed, quickly becoming slightly more somber but still smiling, and said, "I will wait in the truck. For now, Basma needs you. Speak with her; let her know that you will be fine, even if you yourself do not think so." With this, Hadi vanished behind the awaiting truck, started the engine, and just sat and waited.
Claes looked at Angelica, whose back was still turned toward her. At first, she wanted to wait until Angie said what she wanted to say, but suddenly Claes felt the urge to give her mind its voice. "Angelica-" she started, but stopped suddenly. It was only now that she noticed that Angelica's shoulders were quaking and trembling. Claes could hear her sniffling.
Angelica finally gathered the strength to turn around. She looked Claes in the eyes proudly, through the tears of her premature mourning, and yet, despite this display of her new strength, Angelica still couldn't keep herself from shaking. She spoke, "Claes… I'm sorry for m-making you take care o-of me all this time. I-I was so selfish, but y-you were still there for me. You a-always were."
Angelica's sniffling slowed and she seemed to draw confidence from some unknown source the way everyone who speaks from their hearts do. "I've c-counted on you for years and you never s-said a word about it. You never asked me for a-anything. I want to thank you Claes… for being there for me." She wiped her eyes, her sniffling stopped completely. She managed a smile and a joke, "But I also want you to know that you're being an idiot for doing this."
Claes frowned. She told her friend, "Angelica, the time when I had to take care of you is long past. You have nothing to apologize for, because you're my sister, and I live to take care of you." When Claes' statements were met with doubtful silence by Angelica, she told her, "You're so much stronger than I am now, but you don't want to accept it. The fact that I can't even find the strength to crack a smile this very moment while you can is proof of that."
There was silence then. The two girls had spoken their truths and now there was nothing else to be said. They stood stationary together, with only the hissing of the truck engine interfering with their farewell, and suddenly they both felt as if they were standing on the edge of different cliffs. That is, they could either turn back, walk away from the edge, or they could jump and from there travel in one direction and one direction only. Claes had to choose between staying with her friend and taking care of her, or acting on what she believed in, whereas Angelica had to choose between pleading her friend to stay, or to let her go and accept the responsibility of taking her place. Both girls chose to jump.
Claes knew that Angelica didn't need her anymore. She knew that her friend was afraid of being independent, only because she wasn't used to it. Claes jumped to free Angelica from these fears, and to set in motion the rest of her life.
Angelica knew that Claes would never be swayed, and that to continue her begging would be to continue the selfishness which she had just apologized for. Angelica jumped because she wanted Claes to be free from the past, and to show herself that she can, in fact, becoming just as strong as any of the other cyborgs.
But still, Angelica had one more wish to make. "Make me a promise," she told Claes.
Claes replied, "What kind?"
Angelica shrugged. "Any kind. I just need one. Please."
It only took Claes a second to respond. She removed her glasses, polished them a little with her T-shirt, folded the hinges and looked at them lovingly for one last time before she offered them to Angelica, who took them looking somewhat confused. "I promise," Claes said looking somber, "That one way or another, you will get the opportunity to return these to me."
"One way?" Angelica questioned hopefully.
"Meaning when I get back from this op."
"And what about another?"
Claes found the strength to smile for her friend. It was small, weak, and forced, but it was a smile nonetheless for the girl who was given the name "Basma." She turned toward the truck with its engine running, and opened the passenger door. All she said before she left, all that she needed to say, was, "Goodbye, Angie."
Claes sat in the truck and watched the dawn grip its claws onto the horizon and pull itself up and over. This morning, instead of the sun being a bright and beautiful symbol of life, Claes found that it had transformed overnight into a grotesque representation of her running out of time. She had none left now. To the east was the dawn, too late to see her off, and to the north the city of Algiers pulled itself up from the horizon, another despicable visage, this time of beliefs and the sacrifices one sometimes has to make in order to stick to them.
Consequences, Claes thought bitterly and defiantly to herself as her painful farewell to Angelica played again and again in her head, Mean nothing to me now.