Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Thirty
It's late afternoon.
She's taking a week's respite from the job. A reluctant move on her part, however Kwame and Gaia (looking alarmingly worn and more transparent every time they see her) still refuse to take 'no' for an answer.
Linka's protests fall on deaf ears. A compromise is reached, however: that she will travel along with them, but not accompany them on eco-missions; remaining in their shared lodgings instead.
She's restless. Bored out of her brain.
The others are due back soon. Linka glances up from her computer — her eyes peering over the monitor towards the front door, as if expecting them to waltz inside at any moment.
She's seated in an old-fashioned rattan sofa. Her bare feet are propped up on a waste-paper basket she's dragged over. She's dressed casually in a singlet and jeans; her hair pulled up into a messy bun with loose tendrils falling around her shoulders. A pencil is wedged through the centre. She's forgotten it's there.
The bruises are fading and the swelling has subsided. Her right cheekbone still bares a slight discolouration, but nothing a little concealer won't fix. Her nerves continue to be fraught, however. She's tense and on edge a lot, but she guesses (hopes) that will fade with time.
She squints — the letters and words on the monitor are blurring into one another. The thought occurs to her that she may need to get her vision tested. Spending hours upon hours in front of computer screens is starting to wreak havoc with her eyesight.
Sinking back into the couch, she glances at the notepad filled with her trademark tidy, perfectly formed handwriting. The study has been worth it. Her secondary certificate is now complete, posted to her via a nondescript brown envelope several weeks ago.
Linka's spent a small portion of her time off contacting colleges, seeking information about entry requirements. If accepted, she wants to defer her studies. Most campuses will allow her to defer the course for up to three years and that option appeals to her.
She's not ready yet, but it always pays to be organised.
One or two universities in Europe have replied to her queries, but most of her preferred options are located in the United States. She tells herself they are simply more prestigious degrees with better job prospects, but sometimes she's not sure. Sometimes her head and her heart give conflicting advice. She doesn't know whether to trust what her inner monologue is telling her.
That maybe studying in the US is appealing to her for other reasons.
She's distracted. Her concentration levels are at an all time low. The essay on 'Ecological Sustainability and Its Impact on Farming and Development' is moving along at a snail's pace. But there's not much else to do. The television isn't working. The internet connection here is either appalling or non-existent, but that's no real surprise for a third world country like Nigeria.
There are voices outside in the hallway now. They are getting closer, progressively louder. She smiles, shutting down her notebook and closing the lid; her mood significantly lifted. The key turns in the lock and Ma-Ti and Kwame file in, looking weary.
Ma-Ti raises his hand in greeting. "Hey."
"Hello," she replies. "How was —"
Kwame shakes his head tiredly. "Bad day."
She rises to her feet and heads for the door, peeking around the frame and spotting Gi and Wheeler heading towards her. Wheeler's arm is slung over Gi's shoulders and she's pressed up against him, obviously upset.
She moves aside to let them pass.
"What happened?" she asks, eyes wide with worry as Wheeler transfers her to the couch. Linka sinks down beside her, casting a nervous look at the Yankee as Gi shuffles up and curls herself up into Linka's lap. She's sniffling, covering her face with her hand.
"Gi, what happened," she whispers again, stroking the hair out of her friend's face. "Are you all right?"
Gi shakes her head. Her eyes are closed and she's now gripping Linka's thigh so tightly that it hurts.
Her eyes track Wheeler as he moves around the couch. He grabs Gi's ankles, raising her legs slightly as he drops into the seat beside Linka, before repositioning Gi's legs so that they're draped over his lap.
"Hey," Wheeler says quietly. He tilts his head back; running a hand over his face and gazing at the ceiling fan whirring quietly above their heads. His hands are now settled on Gi's calves and it's then she notices the blood caked within his fingernails.
Linka frowns, reaching for his hand. She turns it over. More rust-colored streaks mark the skin of his wrists and the back of his hands.
"This is blood," she murmurs, raising her eyes to his. "What happened to distributing the food and med —"
"We got pummelled," he answers. His jaw is tense and his blue eyes are staring upwards, still fixed on the fan circulating hot air and doing little to cool the already stifling room. "Made the drop to the refugees. Didn't even get the chance to unload it."
"Oh God. Who —"
"Rebels. Bastards were aimin' for the women and children."
"Oh no," she breathes, looking down and running her fingers through Gi's hair. Gi sniffles, a tremor passing through her body. Linka gestures toward Gi, a questioning look on her face.
"Seven year old died in her arms today," he says quietly, and Linka recoils, horrified.
"Bozhe moy," she breathes, settling her hand on Gi's forehead. "When will it end?"
"It's gettin' worse."
"Why would…" She's lost for words for a moment. "They are murdering their own people!"
"That's civil war for ya. Bastards are comin' up with new and completely fucked-up ways to kill each other. It's the poor people in the middle who suffer for it."
"Greed. The root of all evil." Kwame's voice resonates from the next room. "Why can people not learn to get along?"
Wheeler sighs. His gaze settles on the mottled skin of her cheekbone. "How're you?" he asks.
She gives him a small smile, taking hold of his hand again and pressing it gently between her palms. Her eyes are still fixed on the dried blood staining his weathered knuckles. All of a sudden, her troubles with Kroi no longer seem valid, paling in comparison to the tens of thousands of displaced people stuck at the border.
"I am all right," she says softly, stroking the length of his fingers. "Feeling okay."
He squeezes her hand back. Moving G's legs aside, Wheeler stands and stretches with a yawn. "I'm hittin' the shower."
"All right," she replies, giving him another small smile. He places his hand on Linka's shoulder as he leaves for the bathroom.
"There's a pencil in your hair," he calls, just before he closes the bathroom door.
Linka doesn't bother retrieving it.
"You know, I was never religious. I mean, before all this," Grace said, gesturing around them. "But I can appreciate the idea, I guess."
Gi nodded. She was huddled against the pulpit, staring up at the stained glass windows above their heads. "Yeah. I guess churches and the idea of needing sanctuary go hand in hand."
"You reckon our little buddy's gonna come find us?"
"Bleak?" Gi asked with a tinge of bitterness. "The Bleak that I know? He'd leave us here to die."
"He doesn't seem that bad, Gi," Grace replied. She sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "Bit of a grumpy bastard, though."
"He's vicious," Gi replied. "We had a lot of bad run-ins with Argos Bleak. He was always loyal to a fault when it came to Plunder."
Grace shrugged. "Alliances can change," she said softly.
"Yeah, when it's in his own interests," Gi muttered. "You don't know him like I do."
"Linka seems to trust him," Grace said. A muscle in Gi's cheek moved and she looked away, rubbing her eyes.
"Yeah."
"I dunno. They seem to be getting on all —"
"Yeah."
Grace stopped, knowing that the conversation was being shut down. She sighed, glancing again at Gi's closed-off body language.
"What happened?"
Gi sniffed. "What do you mean?"
"At the end? When you guys all went your separate ways?"
Gi shook her head. "I wasn't ready," she whispered. "We weren't given enough time."
"Time for what?"
"Time for anything," she said. "One minute she's there… the next she's gone. I guess I never really moved on after they took her away."
"It'd be hard," Grace said, eyeing the church double-doors nervously. "At least you still had Kwame and —"
"It wasn't the same," she said softly. Gi gazed down at her hands, composing herself. "I was closest to Wheeler and Linka. They were like a brother and sister to me."
"Not to each other, though," Grace teased.
"God, no," Gi laughed. "No."
"I think it's kinda romantic," Grace smiled. "That it took all that time for them to… you know. Be honest with one another."
"You have no idea." Gi groaned, shaking her head in wonder. "Nine years. Sometimes… I mean, she was my best friend and all… but sometimes I just wanted to shake some sense into her."
"How do you mean?"
"Stubborn," Gi laughed, tilting her head back against the wooden pulpit. "Those two were the bane of our existence. I guess it frustrated me that she had this amazing guy under her nose the whole time. A guy who utterly adored her. She just refused to let him in for so long."
"Oh."
"Things started changing in the final year, though," Gi smiled. "I think she was coming around to the idea. Some mornings, we'd catch them asleep on the sofa together. Sneaky cuddles when they thought we weren't looking. She started being really attentive towards him."
"Gettin' closer?"
"They were pretty much inseparable towards the end. They weren't together, but I think they were heading that way, anyway."
"Had to happen sooner or later," Grace said.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Then the death threats started. Blight took a contract out on her. Got word that Kroi was looking for her. CIA got spooked — and then they were gone. Spirited away in a black van. Just like that."
Grace placed a comforting hand on Gi's shoulder. Staying silent, as the words tumbled out of Gi's mouth.
"Everything changed when they left. Once they were gone, they were literally gone. We heard nothing from them, nothing about them. That was the hardest part, I think."
"There was a photo," Grace said. "I saw a photo of you and Linka at a restaurant —"
"Yeah," Gi grinned. "Wheeler and Kwame agreed on a time and place to meet up. They gave it eighteen months for everything to settle down, hoping that Blight was no longer a threat. And then eighteen months goes by — the three of us are sittin' in this little place. We'd been there for half an hour, waiting. Not really expecting them to show."
"But they did?"
Gi nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "They'd been there the whole time, three tables over — watching us. Wanting to see if we'd recognise them." She laughed at the memory. "We didn't."
"Look different?"
"Yeah," she said. "Wheeler had gone blonde. Linka's hair was so much shorter, to her shoulders. She was wearing glasses when we arrived… I think Hannah was the biggest shock, though." Gi shrugged. "We weren't expecting that."
"Oh, the baby was with them?"
"Yeah," she laughed. "Coulda' knocked us over with a feather. Ma-Ti nearly fell off his chair when he spotted the three of them. If you guys had searched any further through my folder, you probably would have found some of pictures of Linka and Hannah buried in the back."
"Yeah," Grace breathed. "Glad we didn't find those. Think Linka woulda' passed out."
"It was just like old times again," she said. "Spent the whole night laughing hysterically. Didn't realise how much I'd missed that. They seemed so happy. Wheeler was totally devoted to his girls. Just crazy about them."
"He seems like a nice guy," Grace volunteered. "I get so tongue-tied around him. It's embarrassing."
"He's different now. He used to be so funny. Hilarious. The spark left him when Linka died."
"I'm guessing so did yours," Grace said quietly and Gi raised her eyes for a moment.
"Sometimes…" Gi whispered, her eyes downcast again. "Sometimes I wish that someone would look at me the way he used to look at her."
"Oh honey," Grace began but Gi shook her head.
"I felt like I was left behind," she sobbed, tears starting to fall. "Wheeler and Linka were married. Ma-Ti returned to South America and met his wife. Kwame was busy doing humanitarian work back in West Africa. I didn't hear much from them. I went home and spent the next few months staring at the ceiling and cleaning my parent's kitchen."
"Geez, Gi —"
"And sometimes when I close my eyes," she gasped, stifling sobs. " Sometimes I can still see some of the awful stuff we witnessed towards the end. The environmental stuff just sort of faded into the background. Things started to get really bad."
Grace squeezed the back of Gi's neck, letting her press on.
"And when Linka died and everything started falling apart..." She shrugged, wiping her eyes on the inside of her sleeve. "I think Kwame could see that I was struggling. He kept in contact more after that. I think he felt guilty."
"I'm so sorry, Gi," Grace said. She wrapped an arm around her, pressing her chin on top of Gi's shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Ancient history, really," she said. Gi took a deep breath, giving Grace a watery smile. "Sorry. Getting all soppy and emotional on you."
"All good," Grace said, squeezing her shoulder. "I cried into an empty baked-bean can last week."
"Oh." Gi's mouth quirked, wiping her nose. "Have a bad day?"
"No. I just really like beans," she replied and Gi snorted, clapping a hand to her mouth.
"You're an id —"
The double doors lurched and shuddered and both girls jumped to their feet, darting for the aisle. They ducked down behind the wooden pews as the doors rattled again. A loud metallic groan filled the air as the doors swung open, rusted hinges working overtime. A figure passed though, closing the doors behind him and striding down the aisle, muttering under his breath.
"Bleak," Gi said, rising to her feet. "What happened to —"
"Dude, you're hurt?" Grace added but Bleak shook his head.
"Not my blood," he barked. He sunk heavily into the bench seats towards the middle and the girls approached him cautiously, apprehensive due to both his appearance and the fact he had a rifle slung over his shoulder. "Fuckin' future."
"You all right?"
Bleak nodded. He wiped an unsteady hand over his face, only succeeding in smearing blood over the bare spots. "Took out the guy in the tower. Too busy lookin' for you," he said, nodding in Gi's direction.
"What happened to the oth—" Gi asked.
"Dead."
Gi blinked, her mouth working soundlessly. She gripped the banister at the end of the pew before pushing herself away. She turned and headed back for the pulpit, dropping down and wrapping her arms around her legs.
"We'll stay here tonight. Leave in the mornin'."
Grace nodded. "No one followed you back here?"
"No one left to follow," he said gruffly, readjusting the rifle and heading for the small room off to the side. "Wake me and I'll put a bullet to you."
"Always a pleasure, Bleak," Grace called out after him. She gave him the finger as he turned back with a smirk and a dismissive wave.
Grace stood in the center of the aisle for a moment, gathering her thoughts before returning to Gi's side.
"You feeling particularly cultured, yet?" Sam asked, staring hard at the sign. They'd reached the museum carpark and were surveying the grounds beyond it.
Linka hadn't been sure what to expect. Seeing the poor condition of the suburbs they'd left behind, she was certainly surprised to find the Museum of Natural History in pristine, leafy condition.
The museum was located within sprawling, impressive gardens that were obviously well taken care of… even now. She bit down on her thumb, wondering if Blight was lucid enough to engage and organise groundskeepers to maintain the place.
Wondering if the people supposedly contained within the museum had systems and rules in place like Belmont.
Did Blight leave the people who had flocked to her to their own devices, or did she rule them with an iron fist?
Looking at the neatly trimmed hedges and immaculate grounds, Linka assumed the latter.
It was certainly food for thought… and it left her feeling uneasy. Doctor Blight's headquarters wasn't the only thing leaving her uneasy, however.
The dreams were becoming clearer. Increasing in clarity and leaving her feeling unsettled. Parts of these dreams were unusually vivid and certain details were left imprinted within her memory upon waking.
A particularly nasty one two nights ago had evoked a physical response, causing her to wake — sweating and sobbing in terror. Dry-heaving into the ground beside her, she'd composed herself quickly and quietly but had remained on edge for the rest of the night.
Linka sighed, pushing it from her mind, needing to concentrate on the task at hand. She moved past the tyre and peeked around the side of the truck currently sheltering them from view. A few figures were identifiable in the distance. Around four women laid out on the steps in front of the main entrance — taking advantage of the improved weather conditions and basking in the warm rays of the sun.
Linka looked down at her ring, frowning. A thought occurred to her.
"If I leave — if we are successful in getting me through the portal in Nevada, will the wind return?"
She could tell Kwame hadn't even considered this scenario. He looked vaguely troubled by the idea. He shrugged, raising his hands. "I hadn't even considered… I suppose so."
"We waitin' for nightfall?" Wheeler was sitting cross-legged against the tyre, a New York Yankees cap covering his head. "I don't think we have a chance in hell of gettin' through without —"
"We don't know our way around. Stumbling around in the dark may end up being counter-productive."
"Well, waltzing in during daylight doesn't exactly appeal to me either," Wheeler pointed out. He shuffled around the truck on his hands and knees, checking out the entrance for himself. "Look at em'. She's got a damn holiday resort operating out here."
Linka peeked around the side again, watching the new additions to the front entrance. A group of men had appeared, dressed in board shorts and carrying large inflatable animals. They disappeared out into the grounds, no doubt headed for the pond just visible in the distance.
"Pool toys. Well dressed," Sam said, narrowing his eyes. "Bastards are better stocked than we are."
"I am wondering what the appeal is," Kwame said quietly, crouching down and listening to the young men shrieking and yelling within the cold water. "Why they would choose to go to her?"
"Blight's fantasy camp," Wheeler muttered under his breath. "Free lobotomy with every adult entry."
Dan snorted, stepping away from the group for a moment, his shoulders heaving with laughter. Linka couldn't help herself, either. Despite the tense circumstances, she snickered into her palm, wiping her eyes and turning away from Kwame's stern expression.
"Sorry," she whispered.
Kwame rolled his eyes at the rag-tag group of travellers currently disintegrating at Wheeler's deadpan expression.
"Shh. Enough," he responded, but Linka couldn't help but notice the smirk gracing Kwame's features. "Fine. We'll wait until dusk."