Chapter Four
They sat and talked, drinking wine, for several hours. Finally, Asha yawned.
"Too much wine. If I don't go to bed, I'll fall on my nose on your very comfortable couch."
"I'd pay money to see that," Logan said, smiling. "I'm not sleepy. I think I'll fire up the computer and get some work done. Let me know if there's anything you need."
"OK. See you in the morning." Asha uncurled from the couch and stood up a bit unsteadily. Then she leaned over and kissed Logan gently on the cheek. "Good night."
Logan sat there until she had disappeared down the hall. Then he slowly got up and walked over to his computers. He turned on the array and sat back down in front of them. When everything was up and running, he resumed his search for Manticore. The headquarters had to have relocated somewhere, but so far he hadn't been able to find the location.
An hour later, he realized that his concentration was shot. He exited the programs and shut the system down. Then as he had done for days after Max died, he sat and stared out the window, thinking of nothing, numb once again.
*****
Asha found him there the next morning. Noticing that he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before, she assumed that he hadn't been to bed at all. Silently, she tiptoed into the kitchen. The dishes were still piled in the sink, unwashed. It was obvious that he had been sitting at the window all night.
"Logan?" she whispered so as not to startle him. There was no response. "Logan?"
She didn't know whether he was asleep or not, so she began to rinse the dishes and clean up the kitchen. While she tried to be as quiet as she could, the clinking of the silverware finally elicited a response from the still figure at the window.
"I said I'd clean up the kitchen," he said in a monotone.
"Oh, you're awake. Shall I make some coffee?"
Logan slowly and carefully got up and walked into the kitchen. "That's OK. I'll do it," he said, bending over to retrieve the can of coffee from a cabinet beside the sink.
"Good Lord, I can make coffee, you know. You should go to bed. You look like you're about to fall over."
"Couldn't sleep last night."
"Lot of that going around lately," Asha replied with a knowing smile on her face.
He puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, setting up the coffeemaker and rinsing the dishes, while Asha sat on one of the high stools at the counter. She watched him intently. He looked so tired. He was moving very deliberately and carefully in the exoskeleton like it was the only thing holding him upright.
She decided that he needed some space, so she made an excuse to leave. "I've got to check up on the others, Logan, to see how the preparations are coming along. Do you need anything? Like at the market? I can run some errands if you like."
"I don't think I need anything, but thanks. When you get back, I should have made some more progress locating the DoD files."
"OK. Well, I'll catch you later. Get some sleep." Asha grabbed her backpack and headed for the door.
"Yes, Mom."
***** When she got down to street level, Asha decided that she would walk to the safe house, rather than queue up for the bus. She needed to clear her head. She couldn't shake the surreal feeling she'd been experiencing since meeting up with Logan the day before.
She wasn't sure why Logan had requested the S1W's participation in the Manticore project he had explained to her. Anyone could do the record retrieval he required. Oh, well, at least it got them out of San Francisco for a while so the heat could die down, and that was a good thing. She couldn't quite bring herself to think that maybe he asked for the S1W because he wanted to see her. Too much time had passed since the last time they had been together. Logan had left San Francisco, gotten married, gotten divorced, gotten shot..
But God, he was sexier than ever, wheelchair or no wheelchair. He seemed sad and vulnerable to her too, and she found that oddly attractive. How sick was that? Asha shook off the thought as she trudged down the street toward the safe house. Her people needed to know what was happening and she needed a clear head to explain the mission to them. The air was crisp and cooler than she was used to in San Francisco and she inhaled deeply. It felt good to walk. It felt good to be able to walk.
When she reached the house, she knocked on the door and was greeted by one of the S1W members who held out a cup of coffee to her. "Here, you look like you need this. Come on in," he said. As she entered the dilapidated house, he asked, "So, did you find out why we're here?"
"Yeah. I'll tell everyone about it. Round them up."
Asha found a seat in the dim living room and waited for the rest of them to assemble. She looked around. The place was shabby, but clean, plainly furnished. Anonymous. She understood that Eyes Only had safe houses and contact rooms scattered all over Seattle.
The other S1W members entered the living room and sat down on whatever they could find. Asha was the only female there. John, Lee, Bill, and Pete, as they were called (and who knew if those were their real names?) leaned forward, waiting for her to speak.
"OK, here's the DL, guys. Eyes Only is going after a covert government operation called Project Manticore. It uses tax dollars to develop genetically enhanced soldiers. The kids are ruthlessly trained, tortured, even killed. A dozen of them escaped in '09 and have been fighting to stay free from Manticore since then. Some have been captured and 'reprogrammed.' Some of them went after Manticore a few months ago and sabotaged the DNA lab. Several were captured or killed. Anyway, apparently Manticore has consolidated its operations and Eyes Only is trying to find the location. It needs to be taken down once and for all."
"So, where do we come in?" Lee asked.
"Eyes Only needs to find Department of Defense records that may indicate where Manticore has relocated or what it's disguised as. There may be a paper trail and if there is, he needs to find it. Logan Cale will do computer searches and hack into the DoD files if he can, but the records may not be online anywhere. Hence, he may need a little assistance from us."
"So, why us? This is the first time your guy has asked for our help up close and personal here in Seattle. What happened to his operatives here?" John asked.
"Um, well, Logan, his main operative here, got shot last year and was paralyzed. I just found out yesterday when I went to meet with him. He's in a wheelchair now, so obviously, he can't do his own legwork anymore. That's why we're here. To help him out."
"Sorry about your friend, Asha," Lee said. "Tell him we'll do our best."
"Thanks. I will. There may be more as the mission progresses, but right now, that's all I've got. Any questions?"
No one had any questions yet. So they all just sat around drinking coffee and eating doughnuts and talking. They had settled in and were finding their way around the city. Asha informed them that she was staying at Logan's and took some good-natured ribbing from them over that.
When she left the safe house, she felt better. She continued her walk back to Fogle Towers. The surreal feeling had passed, only to be replaced by one of sadness. She entered the small park she had viewed from Logan's living room window the day before, and found a bench. As she sat down, she looked around the place, an oasis of beauty amid the squalor of downtown Seattle. The trees were green, children played on the swings, teenagers shot hoops. She wondered if Logan ever came here to escape the mundane ugliness of post- Pulse life. Then, she wondered how difficult it would have been for him to navigate the uneven, narrow gravel paths in the wheelchair. Her composure undone, Asha began to cry.
Poor broken Logan. She could never admit it to him of course, but she did feel sorry for him. The sadness in his eyes cut her to her soul. She didn't know if the cause of his sadness was his inability to walk without the exoskeleton, or something else, but whatever it was, it hurt her too. She remembered his dynamism and his idealism. Working with him had been such a joy; his enthusiasm had been contagious. She had learned so much from him.
Now he seemed obsessed rather than enthusiastic and she wondered where the obsession came from. When he had spoken of Manticore and had pulled up the information about it on his computer, the sadness in his eyes had been replaced with an almost mad gleam that frightened her. When she had briefed the other S1W members, the fear had returned. She sensed both danger and madness in the mission. And when she had to tell them about Logan, she had wanted to cry. Well, here she was, with tears running down her face. She had to stop this and calm down. She had to dry her tears and act as if everything was fine. For Logan.
*****
Logan finished his cup of coffee and headed for the bedroom. He really needed to sleep. As long as Asha was out, maybe he could catch up on some shuteye. A nap would be nice.
He sat on the bed and stripped off his clothes. Then he clambered out of the exoskeleton and lay down. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and hoped for sleep. But, once again, Max's image floated behind his eyes: dancing with him in a dream, sharing a glass of wine, reading his poem, kissing him the night before the raid on Manticore when the exoskeleton shorted out and dumped him onto the floor, and finally, dying in his arms. His eyes snapped open.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had to get some sleep. Maybe he should call Sam Carr and get a prescription for sleeping pills. Maybe that would help. He picked up the phone to dial the doctor's number.
*****
Just before noon, the buzzer sounded, indicating that some one was in the lobby and wanted to come up. Logan sat up stiffly and shook off the groggy feeling. He transferred to the wheelchair and rolled over to the dresser to find some clean clothes.
A few minutes later, clad in a tee shirt and sweatpants, he answered the buzzer. It was the delivery from the pharmacy - Sam had come through with the sleeping pills. Logan paid the messenger and eagerly took the package. Maybe tonight he would finally get some sleep. In the meantime, Manticore beckoned, and if a nap wasn't an option, at least a hot shower would help.
*****
Later that day, when Asha entered Logan's apartment, she found him at his computers, still trying to break into Manticore's records. She saw that he was back in the wheelchair. A small knot developed in the pit of her stomach, but she swallowed hard and walked over to him.
"How's it going?" she asked, as cheerfully as possible.
"Getting there. If I live long enough, I may just crack this damn thing," he replied wearily.
"I have faith in your hacking skills. You've always come through."
"How did your meeting go?"
"Pretty well. The guys are good to go whenever we get the word. Have you heard any more from Eyes Only?"
"- No. Not yet. Should be hearing from him soon," Logan lied. He realized that Asha was standing behind him, leaning over him to look at the computer screen. He could feel her warm breath on his neck: it was disconcerting. He closed his eyes for a second. At least he was feeling something. Maybe his emotional numbness was subsiding. Maybe that was a good thing.
"OK."
"-Are you hungry?" Logan felt that he needed a distraction. Cooking would probably be a good one.
"Hadn't thought about it. I guess I could eat something. What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know. Maybe a salad."
"That sounds good. Can I do anything to help?"
"Nope," Logan said as he shut down the computer. "Just relax."
Asha stepped aside as Logan backed the chair away from the desk and wheeled himself quickly into the kitchen. She watched him as he deftly maneuvered the wheelchair around the counters and tables, assembling ingredients, chopping vegetables, fetching plates and silverware. There was a certain balletic grace about the way he moved, almost like he was dancing on wheels.
She shouldn't have been having the thoughts she was having.
"Logan, I need a drink! Is there any of that wine left? "
"We, ah, killed the bottle last night? Will a beer do?" He opened the refrigerator.
"Yes, anything." Asha went into the kitchen and took the bottle from Logan. He was reaching for a glass, but she stopped him. "Bottle's fine."
"Food'll be ready in a minute. Have a seat."
"Let me at least carry the plates to the table."
Logan started to protest, but Asha had already picked up the plates and carried them to the dining room table. She knew he didn't like any help, but she didn't consider taking a couple of plates to the table 'help.' He would just have to deal with it. She smiled at him.
"Logan, don't be a pain in the ass. I would do this even if you could walk. Just trying to make myself useful."
"Point taken." Logan grumbled under his breath a bit as he made his way into the dining room and situated himself at the table.
They ate in semi-awkward silence for a few minutes. Asha realized that Logan was trying not to sulk, so she attempted some light conversation.
"This is delicious. Where do you find fresh vegetables around here?"
"There's a market not far from here. I shop there three or four times a week to get fresh produce. I know the guy who runs the stand, so sometimes he calls me if he has something special."
"That's terrific. It's good to have friends like that. It looks like things are beginning to improve around here, then."
Reluctantly, Logan found himself drawn into conversation. Asha was in full journalist mode and knew just what questions to ask him. She kept them as impersonal as possible, yet gleaned pertinent information from him. She mentally filed away the location of the market; his preferences in fruits and vegetables; and the name of the vendors whose stalls he frequented. Tomorrow she would visit there and treat him to some fresh berries. Maybe he wouldn't be so cranky then.
After dinner, Logan cleaned up and let Asha help with the dishes. He knew when to beat a strategic retreat; Asha could probably out-stubborn him.
*****
It was just getting dark when Logan decided to turn in. His insomnia was beginning to take its toll, so he figured a good night's sleep would be just the thing. He figured he'd pop one of Sam's pills and drift off into peaceful oblivion for a few hours.
"It's been a long day. I'm beat," he said, heading toward his bedroom.
"OK. I'm just going to sit here and read a while. This report from Manticore that you printed out is fascinating. Who knew any of this was happening."
"Well don't let it keep you awake too late. Tomorrow could be a big day if some of my information pans out. Catch you in the morning."
"'Night."
Asha watched as the door closed behind Logan. She kicked off her boots and stretched out on the couch to get comfortable. The Manticore report was weighty, in more ways than one, and she wanted to absorb as much information as possible about the project. After the mission was over, maybe she would write an article or a book about it, she thought.
But her eyes began to droop and in a short while, she was asleep.
*****
Logan undressed and transferred to the bed. He had taken a sleeping pill a few minutes earlier and as he lay down, he silently prayed that it would kick in quickly. Once again, he stared at the ceiling and hoped. He didn't know how many more sleepless nights his body could take. Maybe if he closed his eyes.
*****
Asha was awakened by a shout from Logan's bedroom. She sat bolt upright on the couch, all her senses on high alert. Another shout. It sounded like "no!" Quietly, she reached down and grabbed her backpack, on the floor, next to the couch. She retrieved her gun and chambered a round. As silently as a cat, she got up from the couch and tiptoed over to Logan's room.
He cried out again. Asha couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone was one of extreme distress. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it, relieved that the door wasn't locked. She slowly pushed the door open, wary of any intruder she might find. There was a dim glow from a lamp on the nightstand.
She entered Logan's room, looking around carefully. There was no intruder, only Logan, sound asleep, but obviously in the throes of a terrible nightmare. His eyes were open, yet unseeing; he continued to cry out. His shoulders rocked from side to side as his body tried to thrash.
Asha unchambered the round and put the gun down on the dresser. "Logan?" she whispered. There was no response.
"Logan!" Louder. Still no response. She crept closer to the bed. She didn't want to wake him abruptly and frighten him or cause him to hurt himself. It didn't look like he would awaken easily. Probably took something to help him sleep, she thought. Then she spotted the bottle of pills on the nightstand.
Logan's distress continued. Asha had seen him like this only once before, when one of his articles had led to a child being injured in some crossfire and he had blamed himself. Back then, she had held him and comforted him, even as he slept. It was worth a shot, she figured.
She quietly climbed into bed beside him and lay down. When he stopped moving, she took him in her arms. Close up, she could see his tear-streaked face. Whatever caused this must have been pretty traumatic, she thought. She held him close to her, his cheek against her chest. He quieted down.
In a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully.
They sat and talked, drinking wine, for several hours. Finally, Asha yawned.
"Too much wine. If I don't go to bed, I'll fall on my nose on your very comfortable couch."
"I'd pay money to see that," Logan said, smiling. "I'm not sleepy. I think I'll fire up the computer and get some work done. Let me know if there's anything you need."
"OK. See you in the morning." Asha uncurled from the couch and stood up a bit unsteadily. Then she leaned over and kissed Logan gently on the cheek. "Good night."
Logan sat there until she had disappeared down the hall. Then he slowly got up and walked over to his computers. He turned on the array and sat back down in front of them. When everything was up and running, he resumed his search for Manticore. The headquarters had to have relocated somewhere, but so far he hadn't been able to find the location.
An hour later, he realized that his concentration was shot. He exited the programs and shut the system down. Then as he had done for days after Max died, he sat and stared out the window, thinking of nothing, numb once again.
*****
Asha found him there the next morning. Noticing that he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before, she assumed that he hadn't been to bed at all. Silently, she tiptoed into the kitchen. The dishes were still piled in the sink, unwashed. It was obvious that he had been sitting at the window all night.
"Logan?" she whispered so as not to startle him. There was no response. "Logan?"
She didn't know whether he was asleep or not, so she began to rinse the dishes and clean up the kitchen. While she tried to be as quiet as she could, the clinking of the silverware finally elicited a response from the still figure at the window.
"I said I'd clean up the kitchen," he said in a monotone.
"Oh, you're awake. Shall I make some coffee?"
Logan slowly and carefully got up and walked into the kitchen. "That's OK. I'll do it," he said, bending over to retrieve the can of coffee from a cabinet beside the sink.
"Good Lord, I can make coffee, you know. You should go to bed. You look like you're about to fall over."
"Couldn't sleep last night."
"Lot of that going around lately," Asha replied with a knowing smile on her face.
He puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, setting up the coffeemaker and rinsing the dishes, while Asha sat on one of the high stools at the counter. She watched him intently. He looked so tired. He was moving very deliberately and carefully in the exoskeleton like it was the only thing holding him upright.
She decided that he needed some space, so she made an excuse to leave. "I've got to check up on the others, Logan, to see how the preparations are coming along. Do you need anything? Like at the market? I can run some errands if you like."
"I don't think I need anything, but thanks. When you get back, I should have made some more progress locating the DoD files."
"OK. Well, I'll catch you later. Get some sleep." Asha grabbed her backpack and headed for the door.
"Yes, Mom."
***** When she got down to street level, Asha decided that she would walk to the safe house, rather than queue up for the bus. She needed to clear her head. She couldn't shake the surreal feeling she'd been experiencing since meeting up with Logan the day before.
She wasn't sure why Logan had requested the S1W's participation in the Manticore project he had explained to her. Anyone could do the record retrieval he required. Oh, well, at least it got them out of San Francisco for a while so the heat could die down, and that was a good thing. She couldn't quite bring herself to think that maybe he asked for the S1W because he wanted to see her. Too much time had passed since the last time they had been together. Logan had left San Francisco, gotten married, gotten divorced, gotten shot..
But God, he was sexier than ever, wheelchair or no wheelchair. He seemed sad and vulnerable to her too, and she found that oddly attractive. How sick was that? Asha shook off the thought as she trudged down the street toward the safe house. Her people needed to know what was happening and she needed a clear head to explain the mission to them. The air was crisp and cooler than she was used to in San Francisco and she inhaled deeply. It felt good to walk. It felt good to be able to walk.
When she reached the house, she knocked on the door and was greeted by one of the S1W members who held out a cup of coffee to her. "Here, you look like you need this. Come on in," he said. As she entered the dilapidated house, he asked, "So, did you find out why we're here?"
"Yeah. I'll tell everyone about it. Round them up."
Asha found a seat in the dim living room and waited for the rest of them to assemble. She looked around. The place was shabby, but clean, plainly furnished. Anonymous. She understood that Eyes Only had safe houses and contact rooms scattered all over Seattle.
The other S1W members entered the living room and sat down on whatever they could find. Asha was the only female there. John, Lee, Bill, and Pete, as they were called (and who knew if those were their real names?) leaned forward, waiting for her to speak.
"OK, here's the DL, guys. Eyes Only is going after a covert government operation called Project Manticore. It uses tax dollars to develop genetically enhanced soldiers. The kids are ruthlessly trained, tortured, even killed. A dozen of them escaped in '09 and have been fighting to stay free from Manticore since then. Some have been captured and 'reprogrammed.' Some of them went after Manticore a few months ago and sabotaged the DNA lab. Several were captured or killed. Anyway, apparently Manticore has consolidated its operations and Eyes Only is trying to find the location. It needs to be taken down once and for all."
"So, where do we come in?" Lee asked.
"Eyes Only needs to find Department of Defense records that may indicate where Manticore has relocated or what it's disguised as. There may be a paper trail and if there is, he needs to find it. Logan Cale will do computer searches and hack into the DoD files if he can, but the records may not be online anywhere. Hence, he may need a little assistance from us."
"So, why us? This is the first time your guy has asked for our help up close and personal here in Seattle. What happened to his operatives here?" John asked.
"Um, well, Logan, his main operative here, got shot last year and was paralyzed. I just found out yesterday when I went to meet with him. He's in a wheelchair now, so obviously, he can't do his own legwork anymore. That's why we're here. To help him out."
"Sorry about your friend, Asha," Lee said. "Tell him we'll do our best."
"Thanks. I will. There may be more as the mission progresses, but right now, that's all I've got. Any questions?"
No one had any questions yet. So they all just sat around drinking coffee and eating doughnuts and talking. They had settled in and were finding their way around the city. Asha informed them that she was staying at Logan's and took some good-natured ribbing from them over that.
When she left the safe house, she felt better. She continued her walk back to Fogle Towers. The surreal feeling had passed, only to be replaced by one of sadness. She entered the small park she had viewed from Logan's living room window the day before, and found a bench. As she sat down, she looked around the place, an oasis of beauty amid the squalor of downtown Seattle. The trees were green, children played on the swings, teenagers shot hoops. She wondered if Logan ever came here to escape the mundane ugliness of post- Pulse life. Then, she wondered how difficult it would have been for him to navigate the uneven, narrow gravel paths in the wheelchair. Her composure undone, Asha began to cry.
Poor broken Logan. She could never admit it to him of course, but she did feel sorry for him. The sadness in his eyes cut her to her soul. She didn't know if the cause of his sadness was his inability to walk without the exoskeleton, or something else, but whatever it was, it hurt her too. She remembered his dynamism and his idealism. Working with him had been such a joy; his enthusiasm had been contagious. She had learned so much from him.
Now he seemed obsessed rather than enthusiastic and she wondered where the obsession came from. When he had spoken of Manticore and had pulled up the information about it on his computer, the sadness in his eyes had been replaced with an almost mad gleam that frightened her. When she had briefed the other S1W members, the fear had returned. She sensed both danger and madness in the mission. And when she had to tell them about Logan, she had wanted to cry. Well, here she was, with tears running down her face. She had to stop this and calm down. She had to dry her tears and act as if everything was fine. For Logan.
*****
Logan finished his cup of coffee and headed for the bedroom. He really needed to sleep. As long as Asha was out, maybe he could catch up on some shuteye. A nap would be nice.
He sat on the bed and stripped off his clothes. Then he clambered out of the exoskeleton and lay down. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and hoped for sleep. But, once again, Max's image floated behind his eyes: dancing with him in a dream, sharing a glass of wine, reading his poem, kissing him the night before the raid on Manticore when the exoskeleton shorted out and dumped him onto the floor, and finally, dying in his arms. His eyes snapped open.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had to get some sleep. Maybe he should call Sam Carr and get a prescription for sleeping pills. Maybe that would help. He picked up the phone to dial the doctor's number.
*****
Just before noon, the buzzer sounded, indicating that some one was in the lobby and wanted to come up. Logan sat up stiffly and shook off the groggy feeling. He transferred to the wheelchair and rolled over to the dresser to find some clean clothes.
A few minutes later, clad in a tee shirt and sweatpants, he answered the buzzer. It was the delivery from the pharmacy - Sam had come through with the sleeping pills. Logan paid the messenger and eagerly took the package. Maybe tonight he would finally get some sleep. In the meantime, Manticore beckoned, and if a nap wasn't an option, at least a hot shower would help.
*****
Later that day, when Asha entered Logan's apartment, she found him at his computers, still trying to break into Manticore's records. She saw that he was back in the wheelchair. A small knot developed in the pit of her stomach, but she swallowed hard and walked over to him.
"How's it going?" she asked, as cheerfully as possible.
"Getting there. If I live long enough, I may just crack this damn thing," he replied wearily.
"I have faith in your hacking skills. You've always come through."
"How did your meeting go?"
"Pretty well. The guys are good to go whenever we get the word. Have you heard any more from Eyes Only?"
"- No. Not yet. Should be hearing from him soon," Logan lied. He realized that Asha was standing behind him, leaning over him to look at the computer screen. He could feel her warm breath on his neck: it was disconcerting. He closed his eyes for a second. At least he was feeling something. Maybe his emotional numbness was subsiding. Maybe that was a good thing.
"OK."
"-Are you hungry?" Logan felt that he needed a distraction. Cooking would probably be a good one.
"Hadn't thought about it. I guess I could eat something. What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know. Maybe a salad."
"That sounds good. Can I do anything to help?"
"Nope," Logan said as he shut down the computer. "Just relax."
Asha stepped aside as Logan backed the chair away from the desk and wheeled himself quickly into the kitchen. She watched him as he deftly maneuvered the wheelchair around the counters and tables, assembling ingredients, chopping vegetables, fetching plates and silverware. There was a certain balletic grace about the way he moved, almost like he was dancing on wheels.
She shouldn't have been having the thoughts she was having.
"Logan, I need a drink! Is there any of that wine left? "
"We, ah, killed the bottle last night? Will a beer do?" He opened the refrigerator.
"Yes, anything." Asha went into the kitchen and took the bottle from Logan. He was reaching for a glass, but she stopped him. "Bottle's fine."
"Food'll be ready in a minute. Have a seat."
"Let me at least carry the plates to the table."
Logan started to protest, but Asha had already picked up the plates and carried them to the dining room table. She knew he didn't like any help, but she didn't consider taking a couple of plates to the table 'help.' He would just have to deal with it. She smiled at him.
"Logan, don't be a pain in the ass. I would do this even if you could walk. Just trying to make myself useful."
"Point taken." Logan grumbled under his breath a bit as he made his way into the dining room and situated himself at the table.
They ate in semi-awkward silence for a few minutes. Asha realized that Logan was trying not to sulk, so she attempted some light conversation.
"This is delicious. Where do you find fresh vegetables around here?"
"There's a market not far from here. I shop there three or four times a week to get fresh produce. I know the guy who runs the stand, so sometimes he calls me if he has something special."
"That's terrific. It's good to have friends like that. It looks like things are beginning to improve around here, then."
Reluctantly, Logan found himself drawn into conversation. Asha was in full journalist mode and knew just what questions to ask him. She kept them as impersonal as possible, yet gleaned pertinent information from him. She mentally filed away the location of the market; his preferences in fruits and vegetables; and the name of the vendors whose stalls he frequented. Tomorrow she would visit there and treat him to some fresh berries. Maybe he wouldn't be so cranky then.
After dinner, Logan cleaned up and let Asha help with the dishes. He knew when to beat a strategic retreat; Asha could probably out-stubborn him.
*****
It was just getting dark when Logan decided to turn in. His insomnia was beginning to take its toll, so he figured a good night's sleep would be just the thing. He figured he'd pop one of Sam's pills and drift off into peaceful oblivion for a few hours.
"It's been a long day. I'm beat," he said, heading toward his bedroom.
"OK. I'm just going to sit here and read a while. This report from Manticore that you printed out is fascinating. Who knew any of this was happening."
"Well don't let it keep you awake too late. Tomorrow could be a big day if some of my information pans out. Catch you in the morning."
"'Night."
Asha watched as the door closed behind Logan. She kicked off her boots and stretched out on the couch to get comfortable. The Manticore report was weighty, in more ways than one, and she wanted to absorb as much information as possible about the project. After the mission was over, maybe she would write an article or a book about it, she thought.
But her eyes began to droop and in a short while, she was asleep.
*****
Logan undressed and transferred to the bed. He had taken a sleeping pill a few minutes earlier and as he lay down, he silently prayed that it would kick in quickly. Once again, he stared at the ceiling and hoped. He didn't know how many more sleepless nights his body could take. Maybe if he closed his eyes.
*****
Asha was awakened by a shout from Logan's bedroom. She sat bolt upright on the couch, all her senses on high alert. Another shout. It sounded like "no!" Quietly, she reached down and grabbed her backpack, on the floor, next to the couch. She retrieved her gun and chambered a round. As silently as a cat, she got up from the couch and tiptoed over to Logan's room.
He cried out again. Asha couldn't quite make out the words, but the tone was one of extreme distress. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it, relieved that the door wasn't locked. She slowly pushed the door open, wary of any intruder she might find. There was a dim glow from a lamp on the nightstand.
She entered Logan's room, looking around carefully. There was no intruder, only Logan, sound asleep, but obviously in the throes of a terrible nightmare. His eyes were open, yet unseeing; he continued to cry out. His shoulders rocked from side to side as his body tried to thrash.
Asha unchambered the round and put the gun down on the dresser. "Logan?" she whispered. There was no response.
"Logan!" Louder. Still no response. She crept closer to the bed. She didn't want to wake him abruptly and frighten him or cause him to hurt himself. It didn't look like he would awaken easily. Probably took something to help him sleep, she thought. Then she spotted the bottle of pills on the nightstand.
Logan's distress continued. Asha had seen him like this only once before, when one of his articles had led to a child being injured in some crossfire and he had blamed himself. Back then, she had held him and comforted him, even as he slept. It was worth a shot, she figured.
She quietly climbed into bed beside him and lay down. When he stopped moving, she took him in her arms. Close up, she could see his tear-streaked face. Whatever caused this must have been pretty traumatic, she thought. She held him close to her, his cheek against her chest. He quieted down.
In a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully.