Protector of Men Ch 28
Zandra knocked on his door three times. She heard Emory get up and shuffle towards the locked portal. It was a miracle that she had even found his room – she had to ask four people before she found someone that even knew Emory in the first place. But she was there, and he was coming.
"Zandra," he said as he opened the door. He ushered her inside quickly, and locked the door before looking at her. He smiled, as if approving her, and gestured for her to sit in one of two rocking chairs. She did, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Emory sat in one himself.
"So you have spoken with him?" he asked, his hands clasped in his lap. Zandra nodded.
"What did he have to say to you?"
"Well," she started slowly, "a lot of things." Emory continued to gaze at her, silently telling her to continue. Zandra started speaking, at first jerked by his strange silence.
"He told me we aren't the first Zion," she offered, becoming a little uncomfortable.
Emory nodded jerkily, looking towards the ground. "What else did he say?" still looking down.
Zandra paused. "Well," she started again, "He said that ah," she paused again, trying to recollect exactly what he had said, "ah, we shouldn't tell anyone the truth."
Emory nodded again.
"And," she added, the information coming back to her, "That an oracle would contact us."
"Has she?"
"Yes, I went to go see her, as well as my crew."
"What did she say?"
"That I could save things, that I didn't know my potential?" She framed it as more of a question than a statement, hoping that she wouldn't come off sounding show-offish. He just nodded again several times.
"What did she say to them?"
"I don't know, they didn't say anything about it."
"I would expect that," he replied, looking at her. They were both quiet.
"What do I do now?"
Emory sighed. "I would suggest going back to him for the answer to that."
"But where will I find him?"
He replied slowly. "He will find you if you search for him." Emory stared into the darkness of his room, as if trying to recollect something.
"Is that how you found him?" Zandra asked, Emory immediately snapping out of his zone.
"Yes, he contacted me," he replied. "But now is not the time for that," he added, getting out of his seat. "I should be getting on with my business."
Zandra got out of her own seat and let herself be ushered to the door. This man was definitely strange, she thought to herself again. Deja-vu…
And as quickly as she came in, she was suddenly thrust out of the room again. Alone again. She almost wished that she could have stayed in the room with him, just to have someone to talk to. But there was someone to take his place. Stephen was laying in a pile against the banister of the hallway, facing the now opened door – facing Zandra. He wore a look of mischief and warmness.
"How did you get here?" she asked, looking to the left and right. The hallway seemed to be abandoned. Stephen pulled himself up to his feet, still smiling strangely.
"Oh, I asked around," he answered.
"Thanks," she replied, "I don't know where I would've gone – last time Shade let me stay in his room-" Damn, she just remembered that she hadn't asked Shade for a room again. Where am I going to stay?
Stephen read her mind. "Oh, you can room with me," he said casually, "I have extra space." Zandra nodded, put on a smile for him. Somehow he seemed different.
"Well I don't know about you," he started in a joking voice, "But I'm exhausted."
Zandra looked at him and shook her head. He shrugged his shoulders, "What?" he asked, mocking a truly serious tone. At least he was still the same joker that he used to be. They chatted normally as he led her down a few floors to his room, and ushered her in.
"Want anything more to eat?" he asked, walking over to what looked like a kitchen. The room – or rather apartment, was quite small, but homey. Zandra noticed what looked like art on the walls, comfortable furniture, it actually looked like a pretty regular home. Zandra had to remind herself that regular wasn't real anymore.
"Anything?" he repeated, holding up a jug, "I've got juice?" Zandra waved her hand slowly and nodded, "Sure," she figured.
He poured her a glass and put it down on a small table in the middle of what Zandra guessed was the living room. Both of them sat down across from each other. Zandra, not knowing what to say, began to drink. It was a strange taste, and she had to keep herself from spitting it back out. She took a deep breath and gulped it down.
"What kind of juice is this?" she asked, eyeing her glass suspiciously. Stephen smiled.
"Actually," he mused, "I'm not quite sure what it is." Zandra playfully smacked him on the arm, and he moaned as if she had just punched him. They both laughed.
"I really don't know," he said more seriously, "But I heard it was good, so I got it."
"Hmm," Zandra replied, looking at her glass again. It wasn't that bad, she figured, and drank some more. But it did require getting used to.
"So," he started, obviously changing the subject, "I hear you have a new crewmember?"
Zandra sighed with obvious exasperation. "Yes," she replied, "Kemp."
Stephen laughed. "I take it you're not fond of her?"
"It's not that I'm not fond of her."
"Oh come on, let it out."
"She's just a little… loud-mouthed for me."
"Allright, I guess that's good enough an answer for me," he said, swallowing the last of his drink. Zandra took another less timid sip. For a second he sat just looking at Zandra, as if she were saying something important. But she wasn't. A second later he yawned, and stretched his arms in display of fatigue.
"Oh, man am I tired," he said, getting up from his chair. "Do you want the bed?"
Zandra shook her head. "No, if there's only one, you take it."
Stephen shook his head too. "If you don't, then I'm sleeping on a couch, too."
"Fine," she answered, "We'll both be on couches."
