Hey guys,
Chapter alerts were malfunctioning across the FF site when I uploaded the previous chapter, so hoping they're back up and running by now.
Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Wind!"
Linka watches on with an almost maniacal sense of glee as Hoggish Greedly's latest venture rises into the air in an impressive vortex. The man is bellowing with rage — shaking his meaty fist as his multi-million dollar investment breaks apart.
The villagers are cheering. Built on the border of India and Bangladesh, the fish and meat-processing plant has been leaking byproducts into the River Ganges for six months now, causing a chain reaction of sickness and destruction downstream.
"Where do you want it?" she calls out over the steady hum of the whirlwind whipping around above her head.
Kwame raises his hand to his eyes. "Can you set it down in a neat pile over there?"
"A neat pile?" she queries, scarcely believing what she was hearing. "What are you —"
"Stack the aluminium?"
"What?"
Kwame grins. "Linka, I am joking. Just set it down on the —"
"What?"
The whirlwind drowns out Kwame's voice and he jabs his finger at the spinning factory, then in the direction of the car park.
"Oh."
She makes sure the employees are clear before she sets it down gently. The earth trembles nonetheless as the structure makes contact with the ground. She stumbles slightly, hands out in an effort to balance herself.
"Nice work," Kwame says, now by her side and admiring her handiwork.
"Spasiba," she replies.
He grins. "In all honesty, you probably could have disassembled and stacked it. The control you have these days is nothing short of impressive."
She stares at him, her mouth ajar and feeling a deep sense of pride. Compliments from Kwame are few and far between. Over the past few years, he has developed into a man of few words.
"Ah, thank you," she responds again, a little breathlessly. She sighs, watching on from a distance as Greedly's portly frame attempts to evade the authorities. The pair drop down to the ground, crossing their legs beneath them — amused and rather entertained by the cat-and-mouse chase unfolding. They've done the bulk of the work and the local constabulary are determined to enter Greedly into custody.
A cool breeze wafts past and she sways slightly, struggling to maintain her composure in the oppressive heat. The flurry of air goes a long way towards cooling the sweat beading around her neck and between her breasts.
She wipes her forehead and leans back. Gi is by the waters edge doing her best to filter the trash and pollutants mixed into the river. Ma-Ti is talking to a uniformed officer — she assumes the man in charge of the local command. She has no idea where the Yankee is.
"How is your course going?"
"Good," she replies, reaching for her water bottle and taking a swig. "I have completed three units. Two more units to go."
A beat passes. "Linka, how are you finding the time?"
"Oh, I study at night."
Kwame sits quietly, contemplating her words. "I know it is a passion of yours… but with everything going on, I just worry —"
"Kwame, I am fine," she insists. She pushes her hair off her face, squinting as she turns to face him. "Really. I am fine. The course is online. I have access to tutors and I can study and submit assignments from wherever we are."
"Yes, but we have been incredibly busy these past few months." He sighs. "I cannot remember what it feels like to have a day off. I am concerned that with eco-missions and our other little technological complication, that perhaps you are taking on too much."
"I have no choice but to enter university this way. I was unable to complete my secondary certificate of schooling due to… well…" She trails off, peering down at her ring.
"You are not seriously contemplating a university degree right now? Linka, we are working seventy hour weeks at present!"
"No, not at this point, Kwame. I just wish to finish my schooling, as it is essential to my ongoing study when we move on. We will not be doing this forever." She glances up, playing with the curls at the end of her hair.
"I just worry that —"
"I will not return to Russia after all my work here, only to be known as someone's wife, Kwame. I do not wish to be a homemaker — relying on my husband's good will like my childhood friends. I want something more for myself."
"So no wedding in your future, Linka?" He looks surprised. "No thoughts of a family of your own?"
She sighs. "I never said that. I do think about it. I simply do not wish to be defined by what my culture expects of me."
He watches her quietly. She knows he is resigning himself to the fact that there is no way she will reconsider. Her chin is set and her eyes are determined.
"All right. So long as you are taking care of yourself." Kwame says softly. "Speaking of technology, how did the latest meeting go with —?"
"My government friends?"
"Yes."
"All right, I guess." She leans forward, watching Wheeler who had finally surfaced. He stands close to the river, arms folded and grinning as he watches Greedly lurch about, dodging the officers. Clearly entertained. "I was correct. They have discovered —"
"SAIP?"
Linka nods. "Da. They do not take kindly to mad scientists hacking their mainframes, it would seem."
"Hmm." Kwame was quiet for a moment. Pondering things over. "Is there a plan?"
"They wish for me to consult with them. Help to develop a counter-attack since I am familiar with MAL's programming."
Kwame considered her words. "Just be careful. They may have their own agenda."
"Da," she says. The thought had crossed her mind. "I know."
Greedly appears again in the distance. For an obese man in his forties, he's doing a superb job of staying clear of the authorities. Kwame pushes himself to his feet; pointing his ring towards Greedly's lumbering legs.
"Earth!"
Greedly trips and falls heavily. Five officers descend but he's back on his feet again and running. Kwame makes a grunt of annoyance and starts moving, breaking into a jog as he heads towards the almost comedic display of ineptitude.
Another breeze floats by. Her hair flutters about her face and she takes a rare moment to enjoy some down time. Collect her thoughts.
Kwame was right, though. Even she had to admit, she was taking on a lot. Back-to-back eco-missions. Two to three hours of study per night over the weekdays. Managing to squeeze in flights to the US to meet with shadowy figures in nondescript board rooms who were pretending to be anything other than what they were — the CIA.
She had met with them twice now. They had demanded full disclosure of what she knew, but expected complete confidentiality. They were spooked by the software. Very concerned, but the situation was made worse by the fact that their own computer 'expert' resented the fact that they had called her in to begin with.
He had dismissed her abilities and argued with every observation she had made. Shot down her opinions — threatened by her youth, appearance and gender. Brushing her off as just a barbie doll who didn't know what she was talking about.
She wanted to prove them wrong — it was a problem she encountered a lot. Perhaps subconsciously, this was part of the reason she had started formal study again.
But truth be told, she was worried. Worried that the bumbling CIA agents would do something rash, with little regard for the consequences.
Blight wasn't a woman to meddle with.
Linka hears a bellow. She glances up, watching as the officers finally catch up with Greedly. They've surrounded him —five on one — and he's still putting up a fight. Kwame is there too, trying to placate him. Arms out, palms flat in an effort to calm him down.
Greedly punches two officers to the ground and Linka sees the flash of silver glinting in the sun. The rest happens so quickly, she barely has time to register it. A scream of rage and suddenly Kwame is no longer standing, but on the ground. Her vision is restricted by the officers surging around the pair and she cranes her neck.
Her mouth drops open. The distance is hampering her ability to understand what is happening but her heart is suddenly thumping in her chest.
Something is wrong.
A red beam issues from close by and Linka jumps to her feet, aware that the fire ring has been used. Wheeler is no longer by the river. He is running full pelt towards Kwame. He launches himself and crash-tackles Greedly to the ground, landing a heavy punch to Greedly's face and knocking him out cold.
And then she's running too. Her hair whips around her face wildly and as the scene comes into view, small sobs escape from her lips. The knife lays discarded nearby, still glowing red courtesy of Wheeler's intervention.
She drops to her knees and skids along the dirt, landing beside Kwame's trembling body. Reaching forward with shaky hands, she accepts the offers of clothing and quickly applies pressure to his face, screaming at the onlookers to call an ambulance.
Linka's face is pale but Kwame's is rapidly losing color. He's going into shock. Her hands are now red; thick with blood. It runs between her fingers and drips onto the dusty ground and she gazes upwards, blinking back tears and struggling to hold herself together.
"But why? You didn't even discuss it with —"
"It is madness to travel together, Gi. You know that. We will be sitting ducks."
"But why can't Wheeler swap with me?"
A groan. "You know why."
Linka dropped her bag to the ground, watching on awkwardly as Gi continued protesting. They had climbed to the top and were currently in the substation, waiting to go. Ma-Ti's team had already departed but the second team were delayed due to the argument unfolding.
Gi continued to beg and plead, waving her arms around and beseeching Kwame to reconsider. He wasn't budging.
"I don't understand why —"
"Gi, I am not having this conversation with you. You know the background. You are not swapping with —"
"He had six years with her!" she shrieked, wiping away tears. "Six years! I lost her and I never got her back."
"He lost her too, Gi," he replied, trying to keep his voice down since Wheeler had ascended — having swung his legs over the manhole cover. He was now standing beside Linka, watching Gi warily. "That is enough."
"Yeah, he lost her," she wept bitterly. "He lost her, all right."
Wheeler tensed up and Linka reached for him without thinking, placing a warning hand on his back. Silently willing him not to explode.
Suddenly tearful, Linka stepped forward and gripped Gi's shoulders, turning and guiding her away from the curious onlookers. She steered her towards a dark corner and wrapped her arms around her. Holding her tightly and whispering quiet words of comfort into her ear until the tears subsided.
"Gi, man. What the hell?"
Kwame shook his head. "It is a long story."
"She's off the chart."
"She has struggled," Kwame admitted. He shook his head, stabbing the ground with his stick as he led the way through the city. "I have done everything I can. I am not sure what else we can do for her."
"Shrink'd be a good start," Wheeler muttered.
"In case you haven't noticed, psychiatrists are in short supply," he said. "In all honesty, I am losing my patience with her."
"She is suffering from depression, Kwame," Linka said sharply, frustrated with his lack of empathy. "Maybe some post traumatic issues. She needs support."
She sighed, glancing back at the members of their team trailing along behind them. There were eight of them in total. Meant to be nine, but Grace had opted to travel with Gi instead, slinging an arm across Gi's shoulders as their team had departed.
Linka had been extraordinarily grateful for that small act of kindness.
"I don't even recognise her any more," Wheeler said. He passed his hand over the crumbling brickwork. "Completely different person."
"With the exception of Ma-Ti, you are all different!" Linka exclaimed. She threw her hands in the air, overwhelmed by the urge to smack some sense into them. "Kwame, you have turned into an… an army general. A drill sergeant. Bossing everyone around and bonking orders at everybody…"
A smirk appeared on Wheeler's face. "Barking."
"What?"
"Barkin' orders, you dope."
She shoved him. "Do not get me started on you, mister cranky-pants."
"Fair enough." He smiled again and Linka beamed at him, delighted to see shadows of his former self returning.
Linka sighed happily. Regardless of the circumstances, she felt oddly at peace. She was sleeping better and — apart from some weird dreams — she felt relaxed and rested.
She was only able to remember snippets of the dreams, really. Minor, obscure details that flashed within her mind upon waking. They were unusual — almost like a black-and-white old film reel flickering in the background of her subconscious.
The sidewalk was pock-marked and damaged, and she stepped carefully around the roughened concrete. She turned to Kwame. "How long will it take to get there?"
"Should be there by tomorrow, around midday."
"How do you tell the time here?" she wondered aloud.
Kwame pointed upward. "Position of the sun. Most days it is pretty hard to see, but since the dust has settled, we have more light filtering through."
"Wind has definitely settled down," Wheeler agreed, glancing at Linka.
A thought occurred to her. "Where is my ring?"
"On your finger?" Kwame replied with a frown, not understanding her question.
She shook her head. "Nyet, my future self's ring. Was I buried with it?"
"No," Wheeler said. He paused and she slowed to a stop as he reached under the collar of his sweater, pulling a thin chain out. "It's here."
Stepping forward, she grasped the ring between her fingers; barely noticing that the others had passed them now. Gold band with a light blue stone. Three wavy lines. Identical to the ring currently sitting on her own finger.
The chain jiggled and she moved closer, fascinated and struggling to comprehend the inter-dimensional nature of what she was seeing. She felt his breath on her forehead and it was then that she finally noticed that he had tensed up again. Her close proximity was causing him discomfort — she had simply been too distracted to notice.
"Sorry," she murmured, letting the ring drop back against his chest. She stepped back, embarrassed but he tugged gently on her hair to let her know it wasn't a problem. They fell into step together, trailing behind the others and walking in a companionable silence.
"Read 'em and weep."
Linka groaned as Wheeler produced a ' Draw Four' card. She huffed, taking four cards from the pile before leaning back against the concrete pylon.
Sheltered under an overpass with only a small fire for light and warmth, the stars twinkled down around them. Linka tugged her blanket tightly around her shoulders, holding her cards in her hands and eying the other players with amusement.
The Uno game was getting rather rowdy. Kwame had warned them twice now to keep the noise down, attempting to catch some sleep and not wishing to draw attention to themselves under cover of darkness.
There were four of them playing. Herself and Wheeler, along with a young guy of about eighteen and a middle-aged man Wheeler seemed to already know — Sam. Everyone else was either asleep or watching the game from the shadows.
She took a moment to observe him quietly; taking in the way the firelight glanced across his features. His hair was a shade lighter than she remembered, tousled over his forehead and peeking out from beneath the baseball cap.
She was unused to seeing him with facial hair. The light stubble over his face looked almost gold from where she was sitting. She glanced downwards — her eyes following the motion of his hands as they shuffled the pack, ready to start a new game.
Gentle, measured movements, knuckles flexing as he conversed with Sam. Wheeler grinned at something Sam said, and she smiled, aware that his defences were beginning to break down.
She tossed her cards into the centre and yawned, repositioning herself.
"We playin' again?" Sam asked and Wheeler shook his head, glancing at Kwame who was out cold.
"Nah. K-Man will tear my hide if we wake him."
"Want me to take first watch?" the young guy — Dan — asked, but Wheeler shook his head
"I'm good," Wheeler replied. "Go catch some Z's."
The pair nodded, bidding them goodnight as they grabbed their bags and departed, searching for a spot to rest for the night.
Linka slid forward and laid herself down, using her bag as a pillow. She watched on as Wheeler walked over to the fire; throwing dirt over the pit to extinguish the embers. He made his way back, relying on the moonlight to guide his way. He swore under his breath and Linka assumed he'd tripped or stumbled in the darkness. Linka couldn't help but giggle.
"Shut up, Ruskii."
She grinned, hearing shuffling noises. Wheeler was unrolling his sleeping bag a few feet away.
"The last Eco-Mission I had involved us camping," she said quietly.
"Uh huh," he answered. "Bet it wasn't as back-to-basics as this."
"Nyet," she said. She could just make out the broad outline of his body through the gloom. "At least we had shelter."
"Mmm. Was that Brazil?"
"Nyet. Alaska."
"Oh," he said. "I think I remember."
"You climbed into our tent," she said with a smile. "Kwame was snoring too loudly. You could not sleep."
She heard him chuckle. "You believed that?"
"You were cold?"
"No," he said quietly. "Probably just wanted an excuse to be close to ya."
"Oh," she whispered, not quite sure how to respond to that. She changed the subject. "Where do you live, Yankee? Kwame said you are not underground?"
"Delaware," he said. "There's about 7 groups of us livin' on a large property. Safety in numbers."
She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself on her elbows — interested in getting a glimpse into his life.
"Is it safe where you are?"
"A lot safer than here," he said. "We've had three raids over the years. People tryin' to steal our supplies. We're pretty good at beatin' em down, though."
"You live in a house?"
"Yeah. Little farm house with another family. We've converted the sheds and barns nearby. The rest of 'em live there, including Mishka and Elena."
"Oh," she replied. "Elena is his wife?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Oh." Linka propped her chin in her hands. Her eyes were starting to acclimatise to the darkness courtesy of the full moon. She watched as Wheeler rolled onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. "What is she like?"
"She's great," he said. "She's British. They met just before you passed. In all honesty, I don't know what I woulda done without her."
"Does Mishka or the children know I am here?" She had listened in on last night's call home but had stayed silent, not wanting to frighten the children or complicate matters. Just happy to be sitting beside him.
"No," he said.
"What did you tell them?"
She heard him sigh heavily. "Told 'em I had to go do somethin' for Mommy."
"I am sorry," she whispered, feeling guilty. "I am asking a lot of questions."
"You're missin' eleven years of answers," he said after a moment. She could tell he was tired.
"Da." She rubbed her face and yawned again. "That is true."
"Get some sleep, Lin," he said. "You warm enough?"
She briefly considered telling him she was cold. Eager for an arm wrapped around her, or those sneaky cuddles like in times before — the affectionate gestures she had taken for granted. But it was selfish of her to expect them now. She could see he was trying so hard not to bury his head in the sand and she appreciated the effort.
"Nyet, I am fine," she replied. "Good night, Yankee."
"G'night."