Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Twenty-Two
Another day and night spent in San Fernando. The mood was sombre within the group. Reflective. Now that everything was out in the open, the newfound knowledge had done little to improve Linka's frame of mind.
She found herself dividing her time between Ma-Ti and — rather shockingly — Argos Bleak. At least Linka knew where she stood with Bleak. He didn't mince words. Spoke the truth, even if it came across as belligerent or downright rude.
And Ma-Ti hadn't changed too much. He seemed to have taken the recent events in his stride, at least from a personality point of view. Friendly, welcoming and always ready to listen or offer a shoulder to lean on. More reflective and a little quieter, certainly. But at heart, the same ray of sunshine he had always been.
It was a pity the same couldn't be said about the others.
Kwame was calling the shots. From Linka's perspective, he had been from the start. There was a hardness about him. He rarely smiled — the light and joy had left his face long ago. He'd aged; eleven years of hard burden and responsibility causing him to look much older than his years.
It was an issue of trust. She continued to be wary of him, eyeing him with a level of suspicion. The damage had been done and she was unsure if her relationship with this version of Kwame could be salvaged.
Then there was Gi. Her neediness was becoming a major impediment. She had been overtly touchy-feely-cuddly since their reunion underground and it was frustrating Linka no end.
It had been nice at first. Comforting — but her friend was beginning to intrude upon Linka's desire for personal space. Gi was starting to grate on her already fraught nerves, leaving Linka feeling overwhelmed by her obsessive behaviour.
Linka often found herself gently extracting her limbs from Gi's vice-like grip or placing herself next to Ma-Ti or Kwame in an effort to avoid the next claustrophobic embrace — not that Gi didn't try to wedge herself in between them anyway.
And Wheeler? The one person she desperately craved contact with seemed to want nothing to do with her. She'd given up trying to reach out to him. The walls were well and truly up, and he was doing all he could to avoid being around her.
Her mind tried to rationalise his behaviour. Offer possible reasons for his refusal to interact with her: reasons that she considered but pushed aside as utterly ridiculous.
Did we have a falling out?
The thought popped into her head unbidden — that perhaps when he had met someone else, their relationship was unable to be salvaged afterwards as a result.
Regardless of her perceived ambivalence toward him during their Planeteer days, she had always been attracted to him. Harboured strong feelings for him — feelings she buried deep down. She both adored him and was exasperated by him in equal measure, which only fuelled the fire inside.
Never a dull moment with the Yankee.
Overthinking things was driving her to distraction so she spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out with Bleak instead, watching him poke around the heavily stocked shelves in the basement. Listening to him rattle on about his pride and joy: A 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. All leather interior. Upgraded stereo. Metallic paint. Remodelled, super-charged engine. Sports exhaust and alloy rims.
Linka had no idea what any of that meant — but she was simply content to be in the company of someone whose personality hadn't drastically morphed into something she no longer recognised.
At his core, Bleak was still the same. Rough around the edges. Brash. Prone to angry outbursts and sarcastic comments. Still blessedly Argos Bleak — desperately unlikable but for the moment, they were united in their common goal of getting home.
The rambling car commentary had stopped and Linka glanced up at Bleak from her position on the floor. He was holding a a pair of pliers and watching her expectantly.
"What?" she asked, realising that he had asked her a question. "Did you say something?"
"You own a car?"
"Nyet," she mumbled, a little taken aback by the question. "I was not old enough to drive when I became a Planeteer."
"But Old Mother Hubbard had you all flying a fuckin' plane." He chuckled, resuming his search of the shelves, clearly entertained by her comment. "Steep learning curve."
Linka shrugged. He had a point. "Da. I think Gi was the only one who had a driving licence before we received our rings. Wheeler was not to happy about that."
He grunted. "Your guy's gone weird."
"He was never my guy," she replied in an annoyed voice, glaring at him. "And yes, he is… different."
"Different?" Bleak snorted, tossing an empty oil drum to the ground. It clattered loudly, coming to rest beside Linka's foot. "Cranky. Brooding. Stroppy. Like I said — weird."
She nodded, too tired to argue with him. A spider crawled out from the oil can and Linka watched it scurry across the floorboards, narrowly avoiding a collision with an empty box of matches Bleak had tossed aside earlier.
"It is not just him," she said softly. "They have all changed,"
"Did you find out how she did it?
"What?"
"Jesus, girl. Am I speakin' another language here?" He rolled his eyes. "How did Batty Babs take you down?"
"Gi said she never found out. They were not told."
"Horse-shit," he muttered under his breath. Bleak paused, his brow creased as he stared at Linka. He jabbed the pliers in her direction. "If they're telling the truth — if you went into witness protection, or whatever the fuck it was — why did they abandon you to your eventual death? No one even knows how it happened. You must have died alone."
She stared back at him. The question had crossed her mind. "Perhaps I refused to put anyone else in danger. Insisted on going on my own."
"Wouldn't do that to my dog," he shrugged, resuming his ministrations. "I dunno. For a bunch of free-lovin' Brady Bunch hippies like yourselves, just seems weird that they'd desert you like that — unless they're still holdin' back."
"You think they are still not telling us everything?"
Bleak shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past 'em. Haven't exactly been that forthcoming."
"Ya znayu," she murmured, shaking her head.
I know.
"That German?" he replied smartly, and Linka was reminded of their earlier conversation in the scavenger camp. He threw a tennis ball towards her and she tilted her head, catching it swiftly with one hand.
"Ja," she said, jumping to her feet and dusting off her trousers. She tossed it back, nailing Bleak square in the back of the head. He grunted, unprepared for the impact.
Linka's lips curved into a smile as she headed for the door. "Bis später."
Dusk had bathed the home in a fiery-orange glow. With the wind no longer an issue, the dust and sand had settled and sunlight was beginning to inch its way back after a long absence. She had come across Ma-Ti standing in the kitchen by the window, enjoying the rays. He gave her a genuine smile and Linka soon revelled in the distraction provided by him.
The stress and anxiety was momentarily forgotten as he chatted to her about life in his tribe. He had married a girl he had known since childhood, Luisa, however they were yet to be blessed with children. Linka shook her head slightly, dazed as she stared at this man as he spoke animatedly, delighted with her company. Tall and thin now, with a deep, resonant voice. The smile was the same, though. Gentle and capable of lighting up a room.
Bozhe moy. He would be around thirty now.
In all honesty, she still equated Ma-Ti with the shy, nervous twelve year old from her first day on the job.
Linka learnt that Ma-Ti's people had required very little adjustment to the current living conditions, courtesy of their continued practice of the 'old ways'. He had trained with the local shaman and was well-versed in natural medicines and treating outbreaks of sickness and disease.
He opened the pantry door, poking around the sparse shelves and searching for something to satisfy his sweet tooth. It didn't take long for him to find a potential match. He pulled a glass jar out containing peeled, orange objects suspended in liquid. Ma-Ti wrinkled his nose and held it out to Linka for inspection.
"Apricots?"
She shook her head. "Nyet. Peaches, perhaps?"
Perching herself on the kitchen bench, she grinned at Ma-Ti as he struggled to open the lid on a glass jar. The preserved peaches within looked rather appetising. Ma-Ti's body was contorted; his face a mask of concentration and Linka giggled, watching him attempt to remove the lid.
"It's not funny," he grinned, still straining with the effort. "Do you know how long it has been since I had fruit?"
"I had the most delicious pineapple in Fiji a few weeks ago. Do you wish me to describe it to you?" she teased.
"No," he scoffed, nodding towards the trapped fruit. "Just for that, you are not getting any."
"Sharing is caring, Ma-Ti," she said with a smile.
"Teasing's not pleasing," he replied, poking his tongue out. "And this lid is definitely not coming off."
"Smash it?" Linka suggested.
Ma-Ti wrinkled his nose. "Ah, no. I prefer my peaches without shards of glass."
She shrugged, peering out the window. "It is probably rotten anyway, Ma-Ti."
"I was really in the mood for those." He settled himself against a cupboard, leaning back and watching her as she gazed out the window.
Linka's legs dangled idly over the counter, her eyes following a lone figure wandering around outside near the garden shed. Distracted by the distinctive flash of red hair visible through the grass, she looked up and Ma-Ti gave her a wry smile.
"This must be very strange for you."
"I am still waiting to wake up."
He nodded. "How are you coping?"
"I still cannot believe… " She sighed, glancing out the window again but Wheeler had disappeared from her view. She bowed her head. "Knowing what I know, I cannot help but think this is all my fault."
"No," Ma-Ti said firmly. He placed the jar on the counter. "Absolutely not. You had nothing to do with the final decision. You begged the CIA for more time. They didn't listen. You realised too late that they had their own agenda."
She nodded. "They are all so different, now."
"The others?"
"Da," she said. "Some more than others."
"I am worried about Gi," Ma-Ti admitted. "Kwame and I have been concerned for a while. She was inconsolable after you died."
"Concerned about what in particular?" Linka asked. "I have noticed that she is a little… overwhelming."
"You don't know the half of it," he said softly. He sighed, picking up the glass jar again and rolling it within his hands. "We've noticed some self-destructive behaviour. Reckless. Out of character stuff. Going on for some time now."
"Like what?"
"She is desperate for affection. Craves attention from the wrong people. Kwame has mentioned that she has acquired a reputation…" Ma-Ti trailed off, hesitant to elaborate but Linka had picked up all she needed to know from what Ma-Ti wasn't saying.
"I have noticed some strange behaviour too," she admitted. "A man climbed into bed with us the night you arrived."
Ma-Ti nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "He wouldn't be the first. "
"Really? Bozhe moy," she breathed. "So long as she is happy, I guess."
He shook his head. "She's not."
She frowned, suddenly feeling the need to defend her friend. "There is nothing wrong with being comfortable with —"
"Drinking until she passes out and dragging random men back to her room most nights of the week is definitely not within the realms of being comfortable, Linka. Especially for Gi."
Linka was taken aback. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Ma-Ti. "What?"
"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his hand through his hair nervously. "It is not my place to say anything or judge, but —"
"Is she using protection?" she asked, horrified.
"No protection — another side effect since manufacturing shut down. Four pregnancy scares and a few drunken brawls. You know Gi better than anyone. This isn't her. She's not coping."
Linka could scarcely believe him. "Oh my God. How long has this been —"
He raised his eyebrows, and she abruptly shut her mouth.
Since I died.
"Kwame was worried, tried to intervene," he explained. "Tried to help her. She was originally living at Belmont, but started hanging around with the wrong people. He moved her to another community to get her away. A new start, but…"
"Oh my God," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. She'd had no idea of how bad things had gotten. "What a mess."
"Don't tell her I told you. She would be mortified." He sighed, following Linka's gaze out the window. Wheeler has surfaced again and was perched on the edge of a raised garden bed, tinkering with some machinery. The sun had just set but he was still visible in the moonlight. Ma-Ti jacked his thumb in Wheeler's direction. "And then there's that one."
Her eyes followed Wheeler's movements longingly. "Have you seen him much?"
"No." Ma-Ti shook his head. "Only twice in nine years."
"He refuses to speak to me," Linka whispered, feeling a lump rising in her throat. She sighed with frustration. "He cannot bear to be in the same room as me. I do not know what I have done."
"You haven't done anything," Ma-Ti assured her. He looked at Linka with sympathetic eyes. "Honestly."
"Did we not part on good terms?"
Ma-Ti shifted uncomfortably. "It's complicated."
"Have you met his wife?" Linka didn't bother being coy. "What is her name?"
"Rachel."
"How many children does he have?"
"I'm sure he will eventually —"
Ma-Ti paused, distracted now and staring out the window. Linka followed his gaze, watching Wheeler — who was now on his feet and standing alert amongst the long grass. Watchful. They saw him approach the hedge for a moment, peering through the foliage before turning and bolting towards the house, tossing the machinery aside.
Something is wrong.
Linka's breath caught as Ma-Ti grabbed her hand and pulled her down from the bench top. He led her out of the kitchen and towards the bunker, nearly bumping into Kwame along the way. Gi and Bleak were a few feet behind him.
Kwame raised his finger to his lips and they descended together, filing into the bunker one by one.
Bleak turned to Kwame. "What's going —"
"About a dozen people roaming the street. Headed in our direction. Wheeler could hear them."
"Weapons?"
"Not sure."
Linka looked around wildly. "Wait, where is Wheel —"
"Locking up," Gi whispered back. "Securing the house."
"Shhh. Quiet." Kwame's voice floated over from the other side of the bunker. Most of the wicks were quickly extinguished as they stood, nervous and on edge around the room.
She heard the sounds of shuffling and doors closing nearby. Linka dropped into the armchair in the far corner, pulling her feet underneath her body. She ran her thumb over her ring nervously, wetting her lips. A quiet rap soon sounded and metal hinges groaned as the heavy door swung open.
"It's me," a familiar voice said. Wheeler slipped inside, closing the door behind him and locking the mechanism into place. "They're three houses down."
"What are they doing?" Kwame asked
"Dunno," Wheeler said, sounding annoyed. He took a seat on the floor opposite Linka. "Didn't stop to ask 'em, Kwame."
"You know what I —"
"They're drunk, swearing like sailors and makin' a lot of noise. Smashin' shit up."
Linka heard Kwame sigh. "All right. We will hold up here for the night and head back tomorrow. The bunker is secure. If they are still there in the morning, we have Linka and her ring."
"Back to Belmont?" Ma-Ti asked.
"No," Kwame said. "I will need to radio through first. Make sure we are not walking into a trap."
"My settlement?" Gi suggested. "It's on the way."
"That was my first thought," Kwame said. "I really think we need to come up with a plan once we're back home. Come up with a plan of attack." He looked upon his weary charges with sympathetic eyes. "For now, I think we need to try to get some sleep."
"Easy for you to say," Bleak muttered. He rolled over regardless, wrapping a blanket around himself.
The one remaining wick flickered away prettily. Linka burrowed her cheek against the course fabric, settling into a somewhat comfortable position. Gi soon dropped down beside her, draping a thick over over their legs.
Drawing the material up to her chest, she grimaced as Gi dropped her head onto Linka's shoulder and clung to her arm, fingers digging almost painfully into Linka's flesh.
Linka sighed with frustration, resigning herself to another night of claustrophobic cuddling. She remained alert, her eyes glued to the door; startled by every creak and groan that issued from somewhere within the house.
She stared at the tiny flame until her eyelids grew heavy, feeling her cheeks burning with the awareness that Wheeler's steely gaze was focused solely on her.
Author Note:
Guys, thanks so much for the lovely reviews! I can't tell you how much I enjoy reading them. I also love reading the theories you guys are putting forward, trying to work out the missing pieces of the puzzle. Keep your eyes open. There are little clues and seemingly innocent scenes that will make more sense in the coming chapters. I do love a slow, angsty build-up!