This week's flashback would serve well as a one-shot. #justsayin'
Enjoy, guys!
Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Thirty-Two
Linka's not even sure what time it is. It's late — they'd eaten dinner hours ago. They stand wearily, huddled together outside a local cinema in a downtown suburb of Hong Kong.
They're burning the candle at both ends. They need a night of something else — anything other than environmental, political or judicial issues that they're currently drowning in.
Something to take their minds of things. Something to celebrate a certain event that had passed without even a casual mention, gift or salutation to the person in question. They're all slightly perturbed by that fact.
Linka moves forward with the crowd, tapping her handbag lightly with her fingertips. The line is long. It winds around the ticket window, past the candy bar and out the front doors, spilling out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Gi is bobbing impatiently beside her, trying to gauge how much longer the wait will be.
A crowd of college students are in line in front of them and Gi's tiny frame struggles to see past them.
"Can you see anything?"
"Nyet." Linka cranes her neck but her own view is still obstructed by a sign. She smooths the pleated folds of her skirt and looks around, taking in all the sights and sounds. "What movie are we even seeing?"
"Something that'll no doubt kill a few brain cells," Gi mutters. "Too bad we don't get a choice."
"Damn straight," a voice pipes up from behind them. Wheeler is leaning against a street lamp, peering at a movie poster with Cantonese subtitles. "Teach you guys to forget my birthday. Pickin' the movie is the least you can let me do."
"You forgot it too, Wheeler," Ma-Ti laughs. "Overworked, overwhelmed… and forgetful, it would seem."
"Speaking of overworked — do not wake me if I fall asleep," Kwame says. He shuffles forward as the line starts to move, ushering Linka onwards. "Really. I mean it."
"What if you're snoring?" Gi asks. "Usher has a noise complaint from fifteen rows away? Vibrations are —"
"Don't wake me."
"All right," Gi replies. She's peering around the noisy students now, impatient to secure a seat inside. "Happy birthday though, Fireman. We're three days late in celebrating because we suck. But we're willing to sit through a shit Hollywood movie with Cantonese subtitles, so that makes us awesome."
"Least it's not dubbed," Wheeler adds with relief.
The college guys are getting a little rowdy. There's some jovial pushing and shoving going on and Linka gasps as one of the men stumbles back, bumping into her in the process. He turns and says something to her in his native language. His face and body language are deeply apologetic but she tenses up all the same.
The line moves again. Linka swallows, glancing around nervously. Her chest is tight and her heart is racing. Gentle hands rest on her shoulders and squeeze. She glances back and smiles at Kwame, thankful for the small gesture of reassurance.
The front doors are in sight and they file through, chatting amiably while they wait. The ticket window is suddenly within reach and Linka grins, anticipating Wheeler's mad dash for the candy bar even before he does.
They purchase tickets and wait by the cinema restrooms until the ravenous candy-craver appears, laden with an assortment of goodies.
"Here," he says, distributing a few items amongst the group. They murmur thanks as they step inside. The theatre is a moderate size and packed to the brim with young people. They enter near the top and head downwards, searching for spare seats.
"Thursday night in downtown Kowloon," Ma-Ti mutters. He points towards the front and Gi nods. "Over there."
"C'mon," Gi says, hurrying down to claim them. The others follow at a more leisurely pace and she ushers Ma-Ti in first, followed by Kwame who is practically grabbed by the sleeves of his jacket and hauled into place. She sits down and raises her eyebrows at Linka and Wheeler, still standing in the aisle. "Sorry, no room."
"Oh, Linka can have my —" Kwame interjects, moving to stand and copping an elbow to the thigh from the annoyed girl sitting beside him. "Ow, Gi."
"Shut it," Gi hisses, throwing him a look of fire and ice.
Wheeler shrugs, walking away and Linka follows, casting a backwards glance at Gi who is a picture of innocence.
They find two empty seats a few rows in front of the others, at the far end by the wall. They shuffle past a bunch of teenagers and drop into the plush fabric.
"What are we watching, Yankee?" she asks as he balances a carton of popcorn between his legs.
"Dunno," he answers. He shoves the armrest upwards and places a few packets of candy between them before he sinks down further into the seat. "Somethin' with Bruce Willis. Posters here are different so I can't tell."
"Oh," she says. She twists, looking back at Gi who waggles her fingers with a wide grin on her face. Linka rolls her eyes as she settles down next to him, turning her body inward. "Gi did that on purpose."
"Yep," he says, still distracted by his ardent candy organisation. "Sure did."
She smiles, running her fingers over the packets between them. "What are these?"
"No idea," he admits with a grin. "Lucky-dip. Hopin' it's chocolate."
"They are brown," she adds helpfully, peering at the packaging which gives no hint of what is contained within. She rips the packet open and pops a small brown ball into her mouth. Three chews later and she's looking for somewhere to dispose of it. She spits it into the ticket stub and places it into her handbag. "Ugh. It tastes like wet bread."
"Aw, shit." He sounds rather disappointed. "Was lookin forward to that."
She fiddles with the ends of her hair. "Wheeler?"
"Yeah?" he replies through a mouth full of popcorn.
"When was the last time we saw Gaia?"
"Uh… shit. I dunno." He stops chewing, contemplating her question. Swallowing quickly, Wheeler narrows his eyes. "A month ago? Just after Kroi…"
"Do you not find it strange? That she is no longer selecting our missions or guiding us?" Linka rubs her forehead with the pad of her thumb, feeling unsettled. "She rarely shows her face at all any more."
"I just assumed she trusted us enough to make our own decisions."
"Maybe," she replies without much conviction.
"Gotta be honest," he says. "Kinda miss seein' her big, scary head appearing out of nowhere."
"Wheeler!" Linka laughs, cupping her hand over her mouth to stem the giggles. "Eediot."
"Zatknis," he retorts with terrible pronunciation, and now she's giggling again. "Behave yourself, girl."
"I always behave myself!" she says, getting herself under control.
"Mmm hmm," he replies, tossing popcorn at her. "Sure."
Linka grins. She adjusts her skirt — pulling the hem primly over her knees and sighs happily, looking around the crowded theatre. "It is nice to get out. I was getting tired of hotel room walls."
"Cabin fever." His blue eyes are staring at the advertisements, but not really taking anything in. The sound of Gi's distinctive laughter can be heard behind them, amongst the chatter. Wheeler rubs a hand over his face and tilts his head towards Linka. "How're you doin'?"
"Fine," she answers, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he offers her the container, trying to get the taste of the mystery bread balls out of her mouth. "I am fine. I think I am getting another cold."
He gives her a withering look. "That's not what I meant."
"Da, I know." Linka purses her lips. Her face flushes, aware that he's still watching her carefully. "I am fine, it is all in the past. It could have been a lot worse."
"Uh… yeah," he deadpans. "You contact the psychologist?"
"I have not had time, Yankee," she says, immediately feeling the need to justify herself. "How am I supposed to see —"
"Babe, they said you can book in phone calls," he responds, rolling his eyes. "I still think you should —"
"Do not tell me what to do, Wheeler," she sputters, indignant. "It was not you who —"
"I'm not tellin' you what to do, babe!" he says with a tinge of frustration. Wheeler shakes his head, turning to face her. "For God sakes, Lin. You had a pig-headed Ukrainian put his fuckin' hands on your body. I think you're more than entitled to —"
"And you broke Kroi's nose and shattered his jaw, Wheeler," she replies tersely. "That alone more than makes up for it."
"I'll break somethin' else if the fucker comes near you again," he mutters.
"Really, I am fine." She reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently in an effort to reassure him. "But I will make the call this week. All right?"
"Yeah. All right."
"Besides, I am not the only one who has run into trouble, lately." She sneaks a glance back at Gi, slumped down in her seat and talking to Ma-Ti. "Gi has certainly had a rough time lately."
"You mean Nigeria? Or when she got a little too familiar with her element last week?"
"Both."
"Good thing we're all CPR certified." Wheeler casts his eyes downwards. "Close call."
"Da," she says. The advertisements have finished and the coming attractions are showing on the screen. She squeezes his hand again and smiles at him. "Happy birthday, Yankee."
"Thanks, babe." He slings an arm loosely across her shoulders, and she leans into him with a contented sigh.
"Can I ask you somethin'?"
She nods, a small smile curling her lips. Half expecting the same thing he's requested of her every birthday, usually delivered in a cheeky manner and always rebuffed — sometimes kindly but often not. "Go on."
He doesn't respond straight away, looking away and settling his blue eyes on the back of the chair in front. "You ever wondered if maybe we've done all we can? Maybe enough is enough?"
"Oh." Her eyes widen in shock as she glances up at him. Definitely NOT what she was expecting. "Um… da. I mean, yes, eventually we will need to hang up our —"
"I don't mean eventually," he says. "I mean now."
"Are you serious?" She stares at him, aghast. "We… we are needed, Wheeler. There is still so much to do, I —"
"At what cost?" he asks quietly. The lights dim and the curtains draw back the full length of the screen, indicating that the feature is about to begin. He sighs. "Never mind."
Linka is deeply unsettled, however. She twists further in her seat, her back pressed against the cinema wall as the surround sound kicks in. Not ready to abandon the conversation, she grips the collar of his shirt, pulling him sideways to speak into his ear.
"You are not thinking of leaving, are you?" There's a slight tremor in her voice and she hopes the opening credit music is drowning it out. "You would not leave us?"
He shrugs, and Linka recoils slightly. She swallows, still gripping the fabric covering his shoulder within her fist.
"I… uh." She's lost for words. "What has brought this on?"
"What hasn't brought it on," he replies, his breath warm against her cheek. "Those assholes are gettin' more and more dangerous. They've gone from shakin' their fists at us to death threats, terrorism, attempted murder and sexual assault."
"He did not… Kroi did not get that far, Wheeler," she assures him again, squeezing him gently. "Honestly, I —"
"That's not the point, babe. What's to stop that fuckin' mongrel from doin' it again?"
"I will not wander off anymore!" She's almost pleading with him now, her mind still reeling. "I should have known better!"
"We've given nearly nine years of our lives to this. When do we stop? When someone's dead?"
"We… we just need to be careful, Yankee," she says, leaning over and touching his cheek. "We need to look out for each other. This is our life now."
"We have no life, babe," he says softly. He tucks a stray lock of Linka's hair behind her ear. "We clock eighty hours a week on average. We haven't been home in six months. We're all dog-tired. Most twenty-five year olds are off partying and hookin' up. Enjoying life. Look at us."
"Wheeler, you are not thinking of leaving us, are you?"
A lump is forming in her throat. A little shocked that she can bounce back relatively easily from the unpleasantness of the month before, but fall into an emotional heap at the mere mention of Wheeler walking away from them. She dashes a tear away, and the hurried gesture is not lost on him.
"Oh geez, babe," he says, grabbing her hand. Wheeler seems to have cottoned onto the fact that she's upset. "Aw babe, I'm sorry. I dunno. Just thinkin' out loud, I guess."
She knows him better than that.
"It is obviously on your mind," she says, sniffling quietly. She releases his hand and starts to turn her body away, shutting herself off. "Do what you need to do."
"Don't do that," he says, tightening his arm around her neck and pulling her back towards him. Her head drops onto his shoulder and he presses his mouth against her forehead. "Hey. C'mon, babe. I'm sorry."
"I thought you were going to ask for your birthday kiss," she blurts out, and he stares at her for a moment, his expression almost comical. He throws his head back and laughs.
"Oh God, I'm three days late, anyway," he says, nuzzling her temple. "Lin, you were mauled by a Neanderthal with a low IQ and an alcohol problem. In all honesty, it didn't even cross my mind to bother."
"I just…" she says quietly. She drops her gaze, wiping her eyes and feeling embarrassed now. "You ask every year. I just assumed…"
"Yeah and I strike out every year," he chuckles good-naturedly, grabbing her bare legs and twisting them around until they're draped over his thighs. She adjusts her skirt and leans into his chest, tucking her feet inward to avoid prodding his neighbour. "Why? You reckon I've got a chance this year of turnin' around my losin' streak?"
"You have the same odds as any other year," she mumbles, and he laughs again. He wraps his arms around her, settling a hand against her shoulder. His thumb grazes the delicate curve of her neck and it's pleasant weight and warmth causes her heart to maintain a slightly erratic rhythm. She glances up at him; her nose bumping against the chiselled line of his jaw. "You will not leave us?"
"I'd leave them," he says, jacking his thumb towards Gi and the others behind them, who are aiming edible missiles in their direction. Wheeler leans back, pulling pieces of popcorn from her hair before caressing her cheek with his fingers. "I'd leave them. I wouldn't leave you."
"All right." She nods, closing her eyes at his gentle touch. She can feel his warm breath against her skin as he nuzzles her cheek fondly.
He grins suddenly. "You said somethin' about a birthday kiss?"
"I merely highlighted your annual tradition," she scoffs. "Besides, you were talking about leaving us five minutes ago, so —."
"Yeah, but that was before you offered to—"
"I did not offer you anything, Yankee," she sputters, her cheeks aflame. "I simply pointed out that you always —"
He grins, revelling in her discomfort. Leaning in without warning, he cradles her face within his palm and angles her chin upwards. Breath hitching in her throat, she gives a shuddery sigh as he kisses her sweetly. Slow and tentative, as if wanting to gauge her reaction.
His thumb glides over her cheek, and she finds herself leaning further into him, gripping his shirt — fabric bunched within her fists as she kisses him back. He draws back slightly, brushing his mouth against hers, teasing her.
She gives a soft whimper, unable to help herself as his fingers tangle into her hair, gently tugging her head back further. She closes her eyes; a little light-headed as she feels the soft press of his lips again.
The last kiss is brief — almost chaste, but it leaves her breathless and wanting more. Nerves humming, body ultra-sensitive to each sweep of his hand and fingers and mouth. All she can focus on is the scent of his cologne and his warmth and his closeness. Everything else just fades away.
A wolf whistle sounds over the car chase scene playing. Her heart is hammering away in her chest as they break apart and turn their attention back to the screen.
Linka runs her thumb over her lips, feeling pleasantly warm and tingly all over. His arm tightens around her again, the other resting casually over her lower thigh. She snuggles into him, hiding the side of her face against his chest as they settle to watch the movie.
Not that she's paying the slightest bit of attention to it.
She risks a glance over Wheeler's shoulder and even in the darkened room, she catches the others whispering to one another. She thinks Gi is giving her the thumbs-up sign.
"Bozhe moy," she mumbles, feeling her face heating up. "Pridurok."
"Just so you know," he says, his breath warm in her ear as a shiver runs through her. "You've fucked up my losin' streak now. I'll need to even it up."
"Do not push your luck, Yankee," she whispers, not trusting her voice. "That is all you are getting."
He shrugs. "Worth a try."
"You do not stop, do you?" She smiles as he nuzzles the corner of her mouth.
"Take a bullet to stop me, babe."
The plan had worked. Whilst some had remained indoors, the majority of Blight's museum dwellers had fled outside after the first explosion.
It was relatively quiet as they made their way inside. Through the service entrance, navigating the flame-lit office and administration areas and finally, spilling out into the grand foyer.
The team had split up into three groups once inside. In the end, she and Wheeler had decided to simply waltz in and play it cool. Pretending that they had a right to be there. Their faces and identifiable features were partially hidden — Linka's hair within the cap and Wheeler's flame-colored hair beneath the hoodie pulled over his head.
Linka was terrified. She clung to Wheeler's arm, keeping her head down and her ring hand clenched, ready if needed. Wheeler's performance was effortless — award worthy, really — going as far as to strike up a random conversation with a young girl with purple hair and glasses they'd run into.
He'd managed to glean some valuable information from the sarcastic valley girl, who they'd come exiting a bathroom with two others. Ripped jeans and a perpetually annoyed expression on her face, Wheeler had commented on the explosion and had casually thrown in a question on whether 'the boss' had been notified.
Their suspicions had been confirmed. The girl had rolled her eyes, stating that Blight hadn't been around for several weeks. Der.
The girl had shrugged, chatting to Wheeler for a few more minutes about tonight's meal, seemingly excited about it. She gave them a wave and lumbered off without a second glance.
"That's five minutes of my life I'm not gettin' back," Wheeler muttered under his breath.
"Maybe you should ask someone if Cap is here?" she whispered, clutching tightly to his hand as two men bustled past them. "They may know his location."
"If he's here at all," Wheeler said. "I'll wait for the opportunity. Don't wanna seem too interested."
They wandered around for ten minutes, not knowing where they were going but knowing they had to head downwards. A massive African Savannah Elephant greeted Linka as they stepped through into the African Mammal Hall.
An older woman bustled around them: a bucket of water and rags in her hands. Linka stepped aside as she scrubbed her way past, disappearing into another doorway.
The atmosphere was tense; coiled tightly like a spring and ready to release at a moments notice. Linka was unable to put her finger on it, but things here seemed ready to explode.
Loud shouts and jeers punctuated the air at regular intervals, sometimes echoing from other parts of the museum. Residents lingered around corners, congregating and talking idly in small groups. Some physical aggression could be noticed amongst them — pushing and shoving, almost some were asserting their dominance. A lot of swearing.
"This place is givin' me the creeps," Wheeler muttered and Linka squeezed his hand in response. She looked down, taking care to step over a young man slumped against the wall, seemingly unconscious.
"Bozhe moy," she breathed. Linka's skin was crawling with nerves and anxiety as she glanced around. "I cannot see any stairs. Maybe an indoor fire escape?"
They stopped at a large map of the museum affixed to the wall. Wheeler peered at it, running his finger along the floors as he tried to find access to the basement in the limited light provided. "Can't read this thing. Can you see the —"
A loud crash startled them. They whirled around, staring at a man sprawling head-first to the ground. A cane chair lay nearby and Linka's first thought was that he'd tripped over it. It soon became evident however that the truth was a little more ominous. Three men approached him, kicking the chair away as the fallen guy on the ground tried to scuttle away, his movements almost crab-like.
"Did you steal it?"
Linka shrunk back against Wheeler as the voice boomed, echoing sharply throughout the space.
"I… I didn't know —"
"Bullshit. Did you steal it?"
"I didn't know," he cried, backing himself up against a display cabinet filled with animal teeth. He looked left and right, eyes wide and panicked. "I though it was —"
"Not the first time, man," another voice rumbled as the apparent feet was dragged to his feet. A crowd had gathered and Linka's heart rate increased, clutching Wheeler's hand tightly as a short, overweight man approached, clutching a large carving knife. "You've been warned before."
The accused thief was dragged shrieking towards the centre of the exhibit area. His legs were kicked out from under him and he crashed heavily to the floor. He was quickly secured and held down by the other two men, extending the thief's arm outwards until it was stretched above his head.
"Shit," Wheeler hissed, eyes wide and mouth open. "Oh shit, shit, no way —"
The carving knife glinted in the firelight. Shouts and jeers issued from the onlookers. Linka raised her hand without thinking, knowing what was about to take place but Wheeler's hand closed over her own, lowering it just as quickly.
"Not our fight, babe," he said. He took another look at the sign before tugging her away, head down and avoiding looking at any of the excitable crowd surging around the shrieking man. "C'mon."
"Mob justice?" she whispered as he lead her towards the stairs. "We cannot just —"
"We have the advantage," he replied under his breath. "We need to keep it that way. They still don't know we're here."
With a final glance at the crowd behind them, they slipped away, heading through a maintenance door and descending into the bowels of the building just as the screaming started.
The basement level was cold and damp as they wandered through, keeping their eyes open for the others. In the end, they followed a lone woman into what seemed like an abandoned storage area.
Props from past museum exhibits laid abandoned and covered in dust, including empty cabinets, crates of bones, a towering moth-eaten woolly mammoth and a number of wax mannequins dressed in an odd assortment of costumes — standing around in a garish display in the corner.
The room was packed to the brim. They weaved their way through the props, intent on catching up with the dark-haired girl clutching a clipboard hurrying towards the back of the room.
"Shall we get her attention?" he asked in a low voice. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he strode forward, ignoring Linka's panicked attempts to pull him back. "Hey there!"
The girl froze, whirling around with a shocked look on her face. "Hey, no one's allowed down here!"
"Why?" Wheeler asked pleasantly. He passed around the piles of junk, and the girl skirted around him nervously, doing her best to keep distance between them. She kept her narrowed eyes glued on Wheeler who was distracted by an opening in the wall, just visible behind some exhibition signage. "Hidin' anything down here?"
"This is out of bounds," she said, her voice a little louder now that she had recovered from the shock. "You need to leave or I'll —"
"What's that?" he asked, approaching her slowly and pointing towards the darkness that stretched beyond. "What's down there?"
"I'm getting Lambert," she spat, stepping forward and shoving a cardboard box off the table and towards Wheeler. He deflected it with his arm and the contents went flying — colourful brochures launching into the air and raining down over him. The girl turned on her heels and sprinted back in the direction she'd come from.
Shit," Wheeler grunted. "Uh, babe?"
But Linka didn't need any additional prompting. "Wind!"
The resulting tornado picked the girl up and slammed her into the exhibition signage. She toppled to the floor and lay still where she'd landed.
"Geez, babe. I just wanted you to incapacitate her," Wheeler complained, scratching his head as his blue eyes settled on Clipboard Girl's feet sticking up in the air. "Not knock her out."
"Shut up, Yankee," she replied through gritted teeth. "I —"
A distant rumbling sound startled them. The ground suddenly shook and shifted, and Linka grabbed hold of a trolley to steady herself. Magazines and brochures crashed to the floor and the mannequins toppled over like dominoes.
The shockwaves rose in intensity and Linka hit the floor, unable to stand any longer. Glass smashing as the tremors from the quake proved too much for the display cabinets. Louder still and Wheeler was now on his hands and knees, scurrying towards Linka who had ducked under a table.
"What the hell —" Wheeler shouted over the top of the roar. Another loud crash as the wooly mammoth jigged and jostled across the floor on all four legs, before finally tipping headfirst onto the ground. It's tusks descended slowly towards the floor close to where Clipboard Girl had fallen. Linka raised her ring again, sending a gust of wind in the girl's direction, moving her out of the way in the nick of time.
The rumbling noise again, deep and mournful — almost human in quality — then it faded away to nothing. Linka regained her breath, peering out from beneath their hiding place. It was eerily quiet. She'd broken out in goosebumps at that God-awful sound, staring at the dark hole in the wall, knowing that the quake and resulting phenomenon had emanated from the direction of the tunnel beyond.
"Jesus."
Wheeler climbed out and extended his hand, helping to pull Linka to her feet. They stood hand-in-hand, staring in the direction of the blackness ahead. Wheeler tugged her forward and they disappeared inside.