Max lay awake in bed, stretched out and staring at the ceiling. Dawn had broken hours ago but she hadn't found the motivation to get up from bed. It was a lumpy mattress but anything was better than Zack's lumpy attitude. She had heard him get off his creaky mattress shortly after dawn and he had been moving about the house ever since. She didn't know what he was doing, but at the moment she didn't care. She was still reeling over the fight they'd had. She knew she hit the nail on the head as soon as she had brought up him protecting the others. She was a security risk - the security risk, one and only. He had been treating her like a prisoner, not a human being, and certainly not like a sister - and she had called him on it. She had finally called him on it.
And he was pissed - royally pissed.
At the moment, she didn't care about Zack's feelings. She allowed herself to be selfish, truly selfish, for the first time in two months. For the first time in a long time the sentence "What would Zack think…" did not follow every one of her private thoughts. She didn't give a damn what Zack thought.
Her stomach gave a tremendous gurgle and she looked at the alarm clock. She'd been up for hours and still hadn't gotten anything to eat. Deciding not to allow her anger to interfere with her appetite, she got out of bed and ventured out of her room.
When she got to the kitchen, she found pot of coffee already made. She poured herself a generous cup and got herself her usual breakfast of cereal. She took a seat at the table and listened - just listened. She heard the birds chirping, animals snapping twigs in the forest, and mutters of rage from the living room. She doubted that Zack was still upset about their fight. He usually chalked everything she said up to naivete and went about life as per usual. She listened closely, hoping he would betray some detail in his mutterings, but he didn't. She could hear the scratching of a pencil on paper, but that was it. It appeared that Zack was up for another morning of secrecy.
She finished her cereal and focused on the coffee. It wasn't anywhere near as good as what she could get at the diner, but it would do for the moment. She was debating visiting the diner again but she wasn't sure if it was for the food or just as a way to piss Zack off further. Either way she would have won.
She heard heavy boots abusing the floorboards and put the cup of coffee to her lips. She hoped if her mouth were occupied when he entered the room she wouldn't make a remark to further stoke the fire.
Zack entered the kitchen and gave her a terse but painfully memorable glance before strolling over to the coffeepot and refilling his mug. He took a long drink and stared straight ahead.
She set her cup down and licked her lips. She needed to say something. She wouldn't apologize, but she would say something. "Zack, I -"
"Don't," he clipped and took another long drink of his coffee.
She gritted her teeth. If he wanted to be difficult, she could be difficult too. "I think we need to talk about… things."
"No, we don't," he answered. He was still staring straight ahead.
"Yes, we do," she said. She was afraid she was gripping her coffee cup so tightly it might shatter. "We need to talk."
"We don't," he told her. "We don't because I've taken care of things."
For a moment she wondered if he had gone to town and killed everyone. If he believed something would keep his family safe, he would do it. She took a breath and asked, "What?"
"I took care of everything," he said and drained the last of his coffee. He placed the empty mug in the sink. "I've got a new plan."
"What do you mean?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. He would still not look at her. He said, "I assessed the situation and I've handled it."
"Can you stop being so damn vague for once and just tell me what the hell is going on?" she asked with a deep sigh. She watched his jaw clench and unclench several times.
"I assessed," he told her, "that you will never be able to live in the way that will keep you safest, so I've created an alternate plan. One that will keep everyone safe - including you… little sister."
She wasn't sure if she wanted to raise her eyebrows or let out a cynical chuckle at his last words. She decided against both and offered no expression. "And what is this plan?"
Zack reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small book. He tossed it onto the table in front of her.
She picked up the book and examined the cover closely. Through the creases and other signs of age and mishandling, she could see that it was a French language dictionary. She looked from the book to him, her brow furrowing.
"What is this?" she questioned.
He turned to look at her - the first time during the entire exchange. He told her, "Just what it looks like. You'll need to know the language for where we're going."
"Quebec?"
"No," he replied and shook his head.
"Then where the hell are we…" she allowed her voice to trail off as she realized his plan. As a response, she gripped the book tightly.
"France," she said.
He nodded slowly. "We'll be safe there. We'll be far enough from Manticore and Lydecker for you to make friends the way you like and have the life you want."
She had expected just a sliver of dreaminess in his speech but received none. Leave it to Zack to make a fantasy life sound like a live ordinance drill.
"Did you plan when we'd leave?" she asked.
"Immediately," he responded. "We've already left too much of ourselves here. I want to get out as soon as possible. I'm making arrangements to have us flown out of the nearest city."
Max wasn't sure how to feel. Something within her told her to be happy that she would get the life she always wanted away from Manticore, but it was a very small part that was barely a squeak among the louder feelings that were raging within her. She could only nod and grip the spine of the light dictionary so hard that her knuckles began to turn white.
"Can we leave as soon as possible?" she asked. She was surprised to find her voice childlike.
"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Zack replied. "I'll go make the arrangements."
He left the kitchen.
Max sat at the table gripping the small volume for dear life. She leaned back in her chair and thought everything over.
Leaving was a talent.
Leaving sooner than later would leave her no time to think.
No time to think about her short life in Canada.
And no time to think of her heart in Seattle.