Chapter Nine

"Sam?"

"Sa-am!"

"Sam, wake up honey!"

Sam turned over under the comforter and tried to ignore her mother.

"Sam, come on. It's time to get up."

Sam lowered the blankets and peeked out. The lights were off, and her mother stood at the door with the light pouring in from the hallway. She took one look out the window and pulled the blankets back over her head.

"Come on, Sammie. You can't stay in bed all day."

Sam muttered from under the sheets, "Who says I can't?"

"I do. Now let's go."

Every day was another day Sam counted towards being in high school. However, every day was also another day she was in junior high.

"Why do I have to? There's nothing important happening today."

"Because it's a great day today, Sam." She heard her mother enter the room and walk over to her bed.

Sam looked out from under the covers and out the window. The low clouds formed a continuous sky of gray. The thermometer hanging outside the window read 40°. A strong wind was blowing outside. Nope, no reason to go outside today, she thought. She retreated under the covers saying, "It doesn't look like a great day to me. It looks awful."

She felt her mother's weight compress the foot of the bed. "So the weather's bad outside, what does that matter?"

"It means there's no point in going outside if it's cold, wet, and windy."

"That doesn't mean good things won't happen."

Sam lowered the blankets to look at her mother. "Huh?"

"Sam, look out the window." Sam looked out at the cold, dark, wet day. "You may see just a miserable day, and so do I. But the weather's all that's miserable."

"Don't try and talk me into getting up, mom. It won't work."

"I won't, but at least listen to me first, and then you can decide." She took a moment to compose herself. "It's true that the weather outside is terrible, but people are still going about their business all the same. We don't know the future for sure, so every day is loaded with possibility. You might get hurt, or you might not. You might have an argument with your friends, or you might meet the future love of your life. What happens today depends on what you put into it. Just because it's colder than you like it, or there's no sun doesn't mean that good things won't happen. It's up to you, honey." Sam felt her mother's weight leave the bed and she walked to the door. "Now I've said what I wanted. Whether or not you get up is up to you, dear." She walked out the room and closed the door.

Sam lay under the covers, staring out the window. Her bed felt like the safest, most comfortable place in the world. It's funny how the indoor always feels better on a day like this, she thought. Even the cold walls of the school feel cozy on cold, wet, gray days like this. Especially with Alex and Clover. Even the worst days are more tolerable when they're around. Clover's always oblivious to anything that doesn't directly involve her, and Alex always looks for the sunny side to everything, and I'm always the realistic moderator between the two. And then that little snot Mandy always has something against us. What is her deal?

Sam sat up in bed, still holding the covers tight around her. Maybe mom's right. Maybe today won't be so bad. It's just a little wind. And it's not too cold. It is just the weather, after all. No need to let it spoil my fun. There's plenty to do that doesn't require sunny skies and warm weather. She got out of bed, shivering from the cold air in the house. She put on a bathrobe and checked her calendar. One year, 42 days of junior high left.

Sam's senses slowly came back to her. She could tell she was lying on something soft, for starters. She let her consciousness return at it's own pace. She slowly grew aware of a constant, comforting sound nearby. It had an irregular rhythm, and the timbre constantly changed, never sounding quite the same from one second to the next. Yet the pattern was always the same, and it was very relaxing to listen to. She finally recognized the sound; rain.

She forced her eyes open. She felt extremely weak, and her eyelids had a hard time getting open and staying there. The world was blurry to her. All she could make out was the walls and ceiling at first, and then she saw the window next to the bed. Drops falling from the roof cast tiny shadows on the blinds, and eventually Sam could make out individual drops as her eyesight returned to her.

With great effort, she turned her head to look at the rest of the room. She lay in a small bed in a small bedroom. The room was sparsely furnished, with a dresser facing the door, and a bookshelf at the foot of the bed and a table beside the bed. The door opened into a hallway, where she could hear someone talking. The speech sounded incoherent and remote.

She started to smell something. It was faint at first, just at the tip of her nose. The scent got stronger and stronger, until she recognized the smell of bacon frying. The smell passed right through her nose and seemed to rush to her stomach, which growled in response.

Her head was still swimming, but Sam decided to try and get up anyway. She started to sit up, but her stomach knotted up and rivers of pain poured into her head. She fell back into the bed and squeezed her eyes shut as the pain rose and subsided. When she no longer felt that her head would explode, she felt the area where her stomach had tightened up so suddenly. She felt bandages under the shirt, and padding on the left side, just above the waist.

She left her hand there for a few minutes, trying to remember why she was bandaged. That's right, that guy shot me. The memories of the alley returned. Jacob and me were fighting for our lives with the thugs. And then one of them shot me. She remembered the sudden impact, followed by a searing pain that began in a small spot and then spread through her entire body from the inside. She remembered her senses fading one by one, until she lost consciousness. She remembered the darkness and stillness, thinking she was dead. It didn't register during the dream, because she thought she was just living out an old memory before passing into the great beyond.

With difficulty, she raised her hand out of the sheets and held it in front of her face. She stared at her soft, slender hand for a while, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

So I'm alive after all. I didn't die in that filthy alley. She let her hand fall. You weren't meant for this kind of work, she asked her hand, so why are you involved with these people and why do you keep trying? Because it's the right thing to do, that's why.

Sam decided to try getting up again. The person down the hall was still talking, and now she could recognize it as being Russian or perhaps some other European dialect. Normally she would have been worried, but either she was too weak or just wasn't thinking right. She knew that just sitting up like usual would irritate her muscles again. She gingerly turned onto her side, every inch sending spikes of pain through her body and small waves of nausea through her head. When she finally rolled onto her side, she relaxed and focused, getting ready for the next move, which she knew would hurt like hell.

Sam placed her right hand on the bed and rotated her left shoulder to push herself off the bed. She took a deep breath and pushed. Just as her body started to leave the bed, her stomach sent shockwaves of pain through her whole body in protest. She clenched her teeth and kept pushing through the pain. After what seemed like an eternity, she was finally sitting upright at the edge of the bed. Her body decided that since she could deal with pain, it would resort to plan B. Wave after wave of nausea swept over her, sending the whole room spinning. She retched and wanted to vomit, but forced her body not to give in to that reflex.

Her arms were sore from the effort, and she was breathing heavily, perspiration forming on her head. A dull, persistent pain materialized at the wound and spread through her stomach. Part of her mind said, "Good job, you sat up! Now lie back down, you're still hurt bad. Don't torture yourself!" The other part of her mind said, "Where am I? Who took me here? Why am I not in a hospital? Who's here?" Her curious side won out.

She placed one hand on the table and the other on the bed, then planted both feet firmly on the floor. She leaned forward slightly and pushed off the bed with both hands and strained her legs to lift her up. She swayed forward and caught herself with the table and maintained her balance. Once again, the effort exhausted her, and she stood there for some time getting the feel for standing up again. Sam noticed she was barefoot.

At length, Sam eased one foot forward and took a step, keeping her hand on the table for balance. Her stomach still hurt and her head still swam, but she congratulated herself on remaining upright. She decided to try a full step. Placing most of her weight on the table, Sam lifted her back foot off the floor and carefully placed it in front. She settled her weight onto her feet again and placed her hand on the wall for support. This time the effort wasn't such a strain, and she let herself rest for just a few seconds before taking another step, and then another.

When she reached the door, she placed her hands on the frame and leaned out into the hallway. The hall ended just to the left at a bathroom, and then continued a short ways to the right and ended at a living room. Sam leaned out into the hallway and fell forward, stopping herself on the opposite wall. She flinched as a sharp jab of pain went through her, and she instinctively placed her right hand over the wound. When the pain subsided, she continued down the hall towards the place where she heard the voice. She found Jacob sitting at a table, talking on his cell phone, in Russian. He said a few final words when he saw her, and turned the phone off.
"Hey, you're up! I was afraid I'd lost you for a while, there."

Sam remained at the entrance to the room. The hallway ended at a small living room with a couch and a few chairs arranged in front of a stereo. A bar separated the living room from the kitchen, and Jacob was seated at the table, sipping coffee.

"Where…where am I?"
"We're at a friend's apartment."

"Wh…who is that?"

"He's less a friend than someone we can trust. He's a medical student."

Sam groaned as another wave of nausea took her. She held her head in her hand and shut her eyes against the spinning sensation. When she opened them after the nausea passed, she noticed she wasn't wearing the same shirt she was wearing earlier.

"This isn't my shirt."

Jacob looked up from the magazine he was reading. "Hmm?"

"This isn't my shirt."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Yours was soaked in blood."

"What?"

"It's soaked in blood. I don't think you want it back."

Sam stared down at the shirt she was wearing, and then finally connected the dots. "You took of my blouse?"

"Well I didn't, but our friend had to. You had been shot, after all."

"You took off my blouse."

"You were bleeding everywhere. We were lucky your pants came out of the wash just fine."

"You took off my blouse!"

"You're really lucky, you know. If you weighed just a few pounds more, the bullet might not have passed through you so cleanly."

Sam was yelling now. "You. Took. Off. My. Blouse!"

Jacob set his mug down and stared at her. "Yes! We had to strip you! Not all the way, but it was necessary or else my friend wouldn't have been able to save your life! Now please calm down, as I'm sure your blood pressure's still low and-"

Jacob bolted from the chair as Sam fainted. He caught her and propped her up on the couch. A few seconds later she regained consciousness, but she still looked furious through her half-opened eyes.

"Why…why didn't you take me to a hospital?" She sounded weak again.

Jacob sat down in one of the chairs. "Picture this: A twenty-year-old male walks in carrying a gunshot seventeen-year-old female. Naturally, the police are going to start asking some really awkward questions which I frankly cannot answer."

Sam looked around again. "Where are we?"

"At the apartment of a guy we can trust. He's a medical student at a charity hospital not far from here."

"Where is he?"

"On duty right now. I'm hoping we can be gone before he gets back, but that depends on you."

Sam sighed and placed her hand over her wound. "What happened after I blacked out today?"

Jacob smiled a little. "First off, that was yesterday."

"What?"

"You've been asleep for a day and a half."

"Really?"

Jacob nodded. "After you passed out, I realized where we were, and remembered that an old acquaintance of mine lived close by. I raced over here as fast as I could and practically kicked his door in."

"I almost died, didn't I?"

Jacob's smile vanished. "Yeah, almost. We were afraid you'd bleed to death, but we got it under control in time."

Sam remembered the last thing she saw before she blacked out. "I remember something, just before I passed out. I saw you next to me."

"Yeah, I was there just before you went out."

"You looked…scared. Why would you of all people be scared?"

Jacob got up from the chair and walked over to the window. He leaned on the sill and stared at the rain for a little. "Yeah, I was scared. I don't show it too often, but that time I did."

"Why on earth would you be so scared about me dying? Aren't you supposed to be a born killer?" Sam didn't realize she had just let the secret slip.

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe I was just reliving a bad memory, or maybe my guilt about dragging you and your friends into this mess was catching up to me, but I was scared."

"What do you mean?"

Jacob paused. Sam saw a painful expression cross his face. Apparently whatever happened to him was really bad. "When I was your age, I lost someone really important to me. She literally died right in my arms."

"Who was she? Your mother?"

"No. She was more like an older sister than anything. Her death was so sudden, I just lost it. I guess that's where my intolerance towards criminals came from."

They were silent for a few minutes. Sam asked him another question. "Why would you be guilty about dragging us into this? Even I don't have any regrets."

"You don't? Even after almost getting killed?"

"Yeah. It's weird. I almost died, I feel terrible, and yet I still want to keep going. There's still so much left to do. We're doing this because we want to. Why should you feel bad? It's not your fault."

Jacob smiled at Sam. "You're very brave, you know that?"

"I get that sometimes."

"The truth is, I felt guilty because you're so young. When I saw the life leaving your eyes, something inside me changed. I didn't see a fellow operative, I saw a young girl with so much of her life left to live bleeding out of her."

"You're not very old, either. Didn't you say you were only twenty?"

"Yeah, but with me it's different. You three ought to be out going to parties, dating guys, hanging out, and just enjoying your lives. There's no need for you to get mixed up in this game."

"You're wrong. We have every right to get involved in this. We're not ordinary teenagers. We spend our free time protecting the world from some of the worst criminals ever seen. Who are you to tell us we can't get involved when someone threatens our home?"

"Just a friend, I guess."

"Friend?" Sam's strength was returning with each passing minute. "I thought we were just 'partners.'"

"What?"

"Outside the lab, remember? You called us your partners."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I was just caught up in the battle. All I could see were my enemies in front of me. Everything else was inconsequential."

Sam's stomach growled loud enough for Jacob to hear it. "You must be hungry!"

"No kidding, I haven't eaten in over a day, like you said." She started to get up. Jacob walked over and helped her into the kitchen. He opened the oven and removed a plate covered in aluminum foil. He removed the foil and set down a plate with bacon, eggs, and a white substance Sam had never seen before.

"What's that stuff?"

"Grits. They're popular in the Southeast. Nobody really eats them anywhere else."

Normally, such a breakfast wouldn't have been Sam's first choice. Normally, she would have seen a pile of cholesterol and carbohydrates, but she took one whiff of the food and found herself ravenous. While she dove into the food, Jacob set a glass of orange juice on the table. "Eat up, you're going to need plenty of carbs and protein to get yourself back up to speed."

"Let me guess," she said between bites, "no rest for the weary?"

"Nope."

"Do you think they'll sideline me for this?"

"Possibly. Depends on what Jerry thinks and how fast you recover."

"What does Jerry have to do with it? Isn't MacDonald in control of this mission?"

"Partially. He comes up with the plans and Jerry finalizes and ok's them."

Sam thought about what that meant. "Then, Jerry knew you were going to destroy that lab."

"You three were probably the only ones who didn't know."

He was about to apologize, but Sam silenced him with a gesture. "Don't say you're sorry, it won't do any good. We've been over this. It's obvious you're always going to do things differently than us, so don't even bother pretending that you could!"

"You're thinking it's because I have a killer instinct, right?"

Sam stopped. "How did you guess?"

"I know everything Stephen told you in the park, and so does Jerry."

"You followed us?"

"Bugged, yes. Followed? No. We were smarter than to go against his instructions."

"You knew about the letter. How?"
"Think about it, Sam. WOOHP has a lot of secrets to keep. Everything that goes in or out of the building is carefully examined. Naturally, a handwritten letter from the terrorist is going to raise a few red flags."

"So you two let it get sent to our room."

"It turns out that Stephen had paid a cleaning lady to put it in your room. We found out, but decided it might be better to see what happens. We let her plant it, and then left those gadgets in the office."

"You knew we'd search around in there."
Jacob nodded. "That beret broadcasted not only to the earbuds, but also to a shortwave receiver outside the park."

"Then you heard the whole conversation."

"We also bugged your clothes for good measure."

"And Jerry was in on the whole thing?"

"It was his idea."

Sam stared at Jacob, and he stared back. She saw more webs appearing over the whole situation. Now Jerry of all people had gone behind their backs. Jerry's never done anything like that. He's always honest with us. Sam finished her breakfast in silence, and pushed the plate away. Jacob took it to the sink. She folded her hands together on the table and tried to sort the lies from the facts. Not the facts, she thought, the truths.

"Something wrong?" Jacob asked.

"Not really. No, there is something wrong. Jerry's never been one to keep things from us. I'm sure he has things he never tells anyone, but when it comes to the missions he's always open with us. It's not like him to be secretive." She paused to reflect on those words, and then she looked at Jacob and realized something. "It's because of you, isn't it?"

Jacob was silent, but his face betrayed the fact that she'd hit the mark.

"I knew it. This whole mission, we've been teamed up with you. And the whole time, everyone was reluctant to tell us about you, your past, Stephen, and your connection with him. I don't know why I missed it! I knew there was something different about this mission, and the whole time it was you!"

Jacob lowered his eyes. "Congratulations, you win the prize."

"Prize?"

"The truth."

Sam could feel her temper rising, but calmed herself, knowing that this was not a good time to faint. "Who are you?" she asked coolly. "Tell me the truth."

"You want the truth? Okay, listen up." Jacob leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. His eyes darkened as he recalled his past. "My name is Jacob Ravask. I was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, into a family that heads one of the largest crime syndicates in the country. They were careful to keep me out of their affairs, preferring that I remain oblivious to their deeds."

"When I was about eight, I started to become aware of their activities. At first, I thought nothing of it. I had been raised not to. Heck, I even played a small part in a few of their activities. When I was ten, I met the oldest son of a missionary working in St. Petersburg. He was in his late teens, and very intelligent. The short version is he opened my eyes to the foul nature of my family's business. I went to confront them about it, and I was horrified at how calloused their hearts were. They just laughed at me when I said what they were doing was wrong. It was then that I learned of the experiment, and that I was its product. When I learned about the experiment, I couldn't stand being in their household another minute. I grabbed a few clothes and ran straight to the police."

"And that's where the CIA found you." Said Sam.

"Yeah. It turns out they've been keeping an eye on my family for some time, and still are. They decided I was too valuable to leave in the country or something, so they brought be over here and set me up with a foster family."

"But that still doesn't explain how you came to work for the government at such a young age."

"My freedom came with a string. If I ever leaked what I knew, even accidentally, I belonged to the US government."

"So you slipped up, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I'm not even sure how it happened. Just a slip of the tongue, really. All that mattered was the next morning some people in suits showed up and I've been with the government ever since."

"Is that all, or are you still withholding part of the story?"

"That's all that matters."

"Stop lying to me! I'm sick of all the lies! I'm sick of all this secrecy!"

"Get used to it, kid. This business is all about keeping and stealing secrets."

"What do you mean, 'get used to it?'"

Jacob started to become menacing again, like someone who knew a simple fact that could turn someone's world upside down. "WOOHP operates as a humanitarian foundation just on the surface. Most of the world doesn't know about WOOHP - the developer of next-generation technology and worldwide crime fighting network."

"Yeah, I knew that. So?"

"Organizations with secrets to keep tend to prefer keeping them. When someone knows something extremely sensitive, the organization tends to keep them on a short leash."

Sam saw where this was going.

"Who's to say that as soon as you graduate, you won't be forced to work for WOOHP for the rest of your life?"

"Jerry wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't. There's just no way."

"I'd say the only thing protecting you three is your age. As long as you're minors, the government can't really touch you."

"And that didn't apply to you somehow?"

"I made a deal with Uncle Sam and blew it. I'm just paying the penalty."

They didn't look at each other for a while after that. Sam didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. Jacob was finally opening up, and now she was making him clam up again. Eventually, she spoke up. "So what do we do now? We didn't get the bomb's location. Does this mean it's all over?"

Jacob looked at her. "Not by a long shot. He hasn't set it off yet, so that means we still have a chance, which means I'm not giving up."

"If you're not giving up, then neither am I."

"That's the spirit."

Sam listened to the rain for a little while. "Are you going to kill Stephen?"

Jacob sighed. "A couple of days ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to say yes. But I'm not so sure anymore."

"What? Why is that?"

"Like I said, when I saw you bleeding to death, something inside me changed. I…didn't want you to suffer the same fate as I have."

Sam looked at him, his eyes full of remorse. "You never got to be just a teenager, did you? When did you say they took you away?"

"When I was fourteen."

"Then you never got to be just a kid. You always worked for the government."

"In a nutshell, yes."

Sam looked out the window. The rain still fell steadily. "If you're not going to kill Stephen, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No. Like I said, I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I guess I'll figure it out by then."

"If you're not sure about killing him, then what all the other bad guys in the world?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"I just don't feel like killing anymore, Sam. I wish I could communicate how I felt yesterday. Maybe then you'd understand what I'm going through."

"A born killer who doesn't want to kill anymore. How ironic." Sam played with her empty glass. "The question remains, what will you do when you meet Stephen?"

"I guess I will kill him, or at least try to. It's going to be him or me. He's dedicated to nuking the city, and I'm sworn to stop him via any means."

"So nothing's changed after all."

Jacob got up and started pacing around the living room. He stopped in front of the window. Sam waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, she started. "Do you enjoy what you do?"

"What?"

"Do you enjoy doing the things your job requires, or is it just a matter of duty?"

"I won't lie to you. When I'm in the heat of battle, I do get a strange sort of pleasure out of it, like that's what I was meant to do."

"So you enjoy killing people?"

He sighed again and leaned on the bar. "Sam, no one ever has the right to take the life of another. Ever. But sometimes, we just don't have any other choice." Jacob decided to change the subject. "How did you get involved with WOOHP, anyway?"

"My friends and I entered a contest for a new dream house. We sort of forgot to read the fine print, and wound up signing the next few years of our lives into service with WOOHP."

"Heh, that sounds familiar."

"Other than that, I've led a pretty normal life. Chasing boys, having fun, doing homework, nothing like what you've spent your teenage years doing."

"Good, keep it that way."

"Huh?"

"Don't be like me and get totally absorbed in your work with WOOHP. Keep being a kid and enjoy your youth. I don't know what the future between you and WOOHP holds, but for now, just keep having fun."

"Sounds like good advice from a guy who's been there."

"You might say that."

"You said you lost a woman who was important to you when you were my age. What happened?"

"I literally can't tell you. It's classified."

"I see. Your whole life is just one big classified file, isn't it?"

"I know. I should have been named Manilla."

Sam and Jacob shared a chuckle.

"You feeling better, Sam?"

"Yeah, lots. Your friend did a good job. Too bad I can't meet him and thank him."

"That'll just have to be, I suppose."

"Tell me, is your whole family as bad as Stephen?"

"Not all of them. It's a pretty big family, so it's hard to keep track of them all. I do know for a fact that one of my cousins became a nun to get away from them."

"Really? That's a pretty extreme measure to take."

"Only way she could go."

"But if she's a nun, won't she be easy to track down?"

"It may sound crazy, but most of my family is strongly Russian Orthodox. They'd never harm the church."

"You're right, that is crazy."

"Isn't it, though? The important thing is that she's safe, so I'm not worried."

"Speaking of safe, what are we going to do about the bomb?"

Jacob was silent, and then said, "I don't know."

Sam laid her head on the table. "Great, I guess we are doomed. All our efforts for nothing." She felt that Stephen really was unstoppable now that they'd lost their one chance to stop him.

Jacob placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw him kneeling next to her. "Sam, this isn't over. Until this mission ends one way or the other, you and me and Alex and Clover and Jerry and everyone else involved in this operation are going to do everything in our power to stop Stephen."

She placed her hand on his. "Thanks, I needed that."

He smiled. "You're welcome." He stood back up and paced back to the window. "Besides, I don't think he's going to set it off yet."

"Why is that?"

"You heard it straight from his mouth, remember?"

Sam recalled her meeting with Stephen. "That's right, he wanted to fight you one last time before he detonated the bomb. That means…we still have time!"

"Yeah, but we still don't know where he put it. That's the real problem."

Sam crossed her arms and thought. "Well, Ramirez said it was on the roof of a building, so that means it'll need an accessible rooftop."

"That'll narrow down our search somewhat, but it still leaves a lot of ground to cover."

Sam tried to think, but the effort only made her thoughts scatter and she started getting a headache. "Ow."

"What's the matter?"

"Headache."

"Your blood pressure's still low. Drink lots of water today."

Jacob looked out the window. The rain was dwindling. "How are you feeling? Good enough to leave?"

She stood up to test her strength. Her side still hurt as she moved, but the nausea was gone and she had regained most of her coordination. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Get dressed while I call for a ride."

"We going back to WOOHP?"

"MacDonald wants me to report to the FBI district office here. I might as well bring you along."

"Why does he want you to go there?"

"Not sure, but it's not my place to ask."

"How typical. Would you throw yourself off the Hoover Dam if they ordered you to?"

"Been there, done that."

They laughed together, and then a spike of pain cut Sam's laughter short. She went back into the bedroom to dress while Jacob called for a ride.