Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"So are we clear?"
An unenthusiastic chorus greets Kwame's ears, and Linka hides a smile from the pilot's seat.
"I mean it," Kwame warns. "Things could get tense. You remember what happened last time."
"What?" Gi asks as she sweeps her hair up into a tattered cap. "The twenty armed secret police guys screaming at us, or the pissed-off dictator trying to throw us in jail for crimes against the state?"
"Both," Kwame says. "We have neither visas nor permission to be here. We are visitors. Westerners. We're not part of a state guided tour. We could —"
"We know," Ma-Ti says gently. "Kwame, it will be fine."
"We keep conversation to a minimum until we get to the site. If we run into anyone official-looking, we do not engage. We do not anger or antagonise —"
"That leaves you out, Wheeler," Gi says. "Maybe we should leave him in the —"
"Screw you, Bubble-Butt," Wheeler mutters as he flicks her cap off from behind. She reaches back and slaps him, and a vigorous shoving match ensues until Kwame clears his throat loudly.
"I am serious," Kwame says through gritted teeth. He's seated in the co-pilot's seat and Linka is alarmed to see that his fists are clenched, knuckles losing color. "North Korea is not a location I take lightly. We know Blight is involved. SAIP has infiltrated —"
"Dude, we understand," Wheeler says, rolling his eyes. The Geo-Cruiser lurches slightly as they hit an air pocket. "We're all … geez Lin, get your pilot's licence outta a cornflake box?"
"Oh, ha ha, Yankee," she retorts, glancing over her shoulder. "You are funnier than a circle."
"Circus," he corrects. "You —"
Kwame isn't in the mood. "Wheeler, make sure you keep your mouth shut. At least until we have —"
"What? You mean now?"
Kwame slumps forward, frustrated. "On the ground. American's are not exactly in favor here at the moment."
"Don't think we ever are," he mutters. "Got called a fat American donkey-licker last time."
"Better than a capitalist pig, Wheeler," Linka says quietly.
"Don't have an ounce of fat on me," he mutters, lifting his shirt and exposing his enviable six-pack abs. "And I only licked that damn donkey one time."
Gi snorts loudly. Linka spends the next few moments staring avidly at Wheeler's abdominal muscles and it takes Kwame's foot nudging hers to pull her back into focus.
Ma-Ti is wiping his eyes, grinning. "Oh my. I am sure you did not take it personally."
"Yeah, well it's hard to take it personally — especially from a government whose leaders advocate eatin' sawdust to it's starvin' people," Wheeler muses.
"Executing people for making international phone calls," Linka pipes up. "Do not forget that."
"Supreme leader has a little-man complex," Wheeler says, wiggling his pinkie finger. "Compensatin' for somethin'."
"Please don't mention that out there," Gi says, throwing him a combative look. "The walls have ears. Hills have eyes."
"Focus, people," Kwame groans, clearly frustrated. "Twenty-thousand square kilometres of forest gone along with our —"
"Kwame, are you all right," Gi asks gently. She's watching him carefully, a concerned look on her face. "You seem really stressed."
"More stressed than usual, anyway," Ma-Ti adds.
Kwame swivels sideways in his seat, one arm slung around the neck-rest. He lowers his chin and watches them all. There's a weary, almost defeated look on his face.
"Is this becoming too much?" he asks finally and the others fall silent, watching him carefully. "Are we getting to the point where our personal safety is being compromised?"
"Yep," Wheeler says and Gi stares at him with surprise.
"Nine years." Kwame shakes his head. "Are we really making a difference?"
"I think we are," Ma-Ti says softly but Kwame sighs, hanging his head.
"We are running around in circles," he laments. "Doing nothing but chasing our tails, so to speak."
"All the people we have helped," Ma-Ti begins. "We —"
"We are improving people's lives at the expense of our own," he says quietly. "I do not… I think… I feel that our job may be becoming too dangerous."
Linka glances back at Wheeler, reminded of their conversation in the movie theatre. He looks away, chewing his lip and mulling things over.
"Are you thinking of leaving, Kwame?" Gi says. She's turned pale, stunned at the admission. "I don't —"
"I am starting to think we can no longer justify the risk any more," Kwame replies. He taps the dashboard with his index finger, staring out into the clouds beyond. "I just think we have been skirting the issue for a long time. It would be irresponsible of me not to address this. Especially as we are heading into yet another volatile —"
"Every situation is volatile, Kwame, we —"
"That is my point, Gi. I have a duty of care to you all. Gaia has all but left us. I fear the balance has shifted for her too and I —"
"Wait a minute," Gi says, looking around the quiet cabin. "All right. If we're gonna have this conversation — is anyone else here thinking about this? About leaving?"
Linka turns around again, glancing at Wheeler knowingly. He raises his hand slowly and Gi looks aghast, her mouth hanging open in shock. "Are you serious, Wheeler?"
"Yeah," Wheeler mutters under his breath. "Like a heart attack."
"I don't…" Gi is lost for words. She looks at Linka, eyes wide and pleading. "What about you?"
"I wish to stay," she says slowly. "I do not think I am ready to leave, yet."
"And you," Gi says, her eyes falling on Ma-Ti. "What about you?"
"I will stay." Ma-Ti tilts his head, running his finger over his ring. "Are you upset that they are —"
"No, no," she says, running her hands through her hair and replacing the cap Wheeler had knocked off earlier. "I just… I don't know. I'd never really thought about it. I just assumed…"
She doesn't finish her sentence. The cabin remains quiet, devoid of the laughter and banter from just ten minutes earlier.
"All I am saying is that maybe it is time to consider our own futures," Kwame says gently. "I do not wish to be creating earthquakes as an eighty-year old geriatric in diapers with a hip replacement."
"Geez, Kwame," Wheeler mutters. "That's a tad graphic."
"Are you still wanting to leave?" Gi asks, eyeing Wheeler again. "How long have you been thinking —"
"Bout six months," he says, sinking back into his chair. He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "Been on my mind."
"What's stopping you, then?"
He doesn't answer. Linka turns to the front and grips the controls tighter. Heat rises to her cheeks as she almost feels Gi's eyes boring into the back of her head.
"Wow," Gi says. "Okay. I had no idea some of you were even considering…"
"Do you not think about it, Gi?" Kwame asks, treading carefully with his questioning. "You have a family waiting for you at home. You —"
"You guys are my family," she says, her voice rising. "Why would I want to —"
"All right." Kwame nods. "I understand. I am just putting it out there, so to speak."
"I'm not ready," she repeats, her voice a whisper. "I can't believe that some of you are —"
Linka glances back again. Gi's body is tucked inwards now, facing the window and her brow is pressed upon it. She's upset.
The cabin remains silent for a while, passing through white wisps of cloud cover. Land mass is visible beneath them.
Eventually, the Geo-Cruiser begins its descent, landing in a clearing and Kwame is the first to unbuckle his seat belt. He stands, motioning for Ma-Ti to follow.
"Shall we go and search for our contact?"
Wheeler moves to join them but Kwame shakes his head, gripping his shoulder and gently pushing him back into his seat. "Just give us a moment. Anti-American sentiment is quite high at the moment here."
"Not my fault we have an idiot in the White House," Wheeler mutters but he remains where he is. He nods towards Linka. "Russia isn't exactly on North Korea's Christmas card list either."
Linka gives him a tight smile and unclasps her belt, heading to the aisle. Gi grabs her bag and heads towards the door, her shoulder brushing Linka's.
"Are you all right?" Linka asks softly. They pause in the doorway, watching Kwame and Ma-Ti head out into the clearing. "You seem upset."
Gi crosses her arms, her teeth pressing upon her lips. "I'm just — I don't know. I wasn't expecting…"
"This conversation had to come sooner or later, Gi," Linka says, placing her hand around Gi's shoulders and pulling her in for a quick cuddle. "I am sure you have dreams and aspirations like I do."
"Yeah," she laughs, hugging Linka back. "Just wasn't expecting to have to think about them just yet."
"I think Kwame is simply wanting to get our perspective." She smiles at Gi reassuringly. "Might be time to start thinking about it, about the life you wish to make for yourself."
"My life is wherever you guys are," she says, wiping her eyes. "God. I'm sorry. I've turned into a blubbering wreck. Don't know why."
"It is all right."
Gi sighs, clutching Linka's hand. "What could possibly beat this? Travelling the world with your best friends?"
"Professional chocolate eater?" Linka suggests, raising an eyebrow. "Wine taster?"
"Water slide tester?" Gi adds.
"Drive an ice cream truck." Wheeler's voice pipes up from the back, and the girls giggle, throwing him an amused glance. "Eat the profits."
"All right." Gi grins, taking a deep breath and squeezing Linka's hand. "I'm fine."
Gi heads out to join Kwame and Ma-Ti who are on the far side of the clearing, speaking to the distant figure Linka assumes to be the contact.
She hurries back down the aisle to grab her bag from the empty back seat, passing Wheeler. He moves with lightning speed, grabbing her around the waist. She gives a surprised squeal as he drags her down into his lap.
"Can I help you," she laughs, regarding him fondly.
"Nah. I'm good." He pulls her against his chest, holding her close and resting his chin on her shoulder. He nuzzles into her with a heavy sigh, and she can feel his breath, warm and sweet on her neck, prickling her skin. "Just needed a cuddle."
She settles herself against him, swinging her legs idly and enjoying the contact. She reaches out, running her fingers gently through his hair. "You need a hair cut, Yankee."
"Mmm. Cut it for me tonight?"
"So long as we are not languishing in a third world jail?" she teases. "Then, da. I will."
"Sweet."
She hugs him back, trailing a lazy path through his scalp with her fingernails, enjoying the way his hand has slipped under her shirt, resting against the small of her back. She nestles into him, breathless as his fingers track patterns up and down her skin.
Things have definitely changed between them. The quips, arguments and dismissive interactions have been replaced by a quiet, mutual affection. There's a tenderness between them, a newfound sense of care and consideration towards one another.
They seem to be treading a fine line, teetering between friendship and something more, but opportunities to fully explore this have unfortunately been few and far between.
They've been too busy.
She winds an arm around his neck, smoothing the hair away from his forehead, watching the way he visibly relaxes. He closes his eyes as she trails her touch down the side of his face and behind his ear, tugging gently on his earlobe.
"I need a vacation," he grumbles, and she nods in agreement. "Sand. Beach. A few pina coladas."
"Anything else?"
"Wouldn't say no to you in a bikini," he grins, his blue eyes sparkling, and she swats him lightly. "Been a while."
"A bikini is dependent on a concept known as free time, Yankee," she teases. "Something we are severely lacking."
He grunts in response as she clutches his hair, gently tugging his head back and trapping him there against the head rest. He opens his eyes as she peers down at him with a smile, nose to nose. "So my presence would require a bikini?"
"Nah," he says, grinning. "I'd be fine if you were fully clothed."
"Oh thank you, Yankee," she scoffs. "How considerate of you."
"How 'bout you?" he asks. "Let's say this ended tomorrow. If the Planeteers went bust — where would you go?"
She releases him, settling her arms around his neck and cuddling into his chest again, considering the question carefully. "I would probably begin my University stud —"
"Nerd," he says, rolling his eyes. "C'mon babe. You can't tell me you'd launch yourself straight into —"
"Santorini," she says softly, nudging his cheek with her nose. "Or Mykonos. Just wandering around and relaxing. That would be my choice."
"Greek Islands, huh?"
"Da," she says a little dreamily. "Not having a time limit or an agenda. Not having to be anywhere. Just waking up each day and exploring."
"Fair enough," he replies with a smile. She grins back, hugging him as the sound of the back door opens. Heavy footsteps can be heard passing over the metal floor. Wheeler sighs, tickling her ribs. "Looks like I'm no longer under house arrest."
Linka peers over Wheeler's shoulder and she stiffens, gripping Wheeler's shoulder tightly. Her breath catches in her throat.
A man stands at the end of the aisle, staring around the cabin before his eyes settle on Linka. He's shirtless; dressed in light cotton pants and wearing a straw hat. He's covered in dirt and dust and he's gripping something metallic in his hands.
"Wheeler?" she whispers, flattening her palms against his chest. "Wheeler, there is someone —"
"Balam?" the man says sharply, and Wheeler is on his feet with surprising speed. Linka grunts as she slips off his lap, grabbing hold of the chair in front and narrowly avoiding falling to the floor between the seats.
"Balam sonyeo?" The stranger's voice has a nasal quality and he sniffs, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. The glint of the knife is visible. "Balam?"
Wheeler's hands grip her shoulders, pushing her down before stepping out and shielding her. He flicks his ring on, exposing the flame — a silent threat not to come closer.
"Blight," he says. The man grins, showing teeth that are black and rotting. He points to his eye and repeats the same word. "Blight."
Linka peeks around the side of the backrest. The man hasn't made a move but something isn't right. Wheeler's body language is tense, muscles tightly coiled. Ready to strike but the man simply laughs, pointing the knife in Linka's direction, then tapping the sharp point gently against the corner of his eye again. Linka's heartbeat rises as she spots the blood on the blade.
"Blight."
He turns and strides out, disappearing into the crowd of villagers who have gathered to greet them.
"Jesus," Wheeler mutters, glancing down at her. He extends his hand and she's pulled to her feet. "Who the fuck was that?"
She doesn't answer; her eyes now glued to the spot the man has just vacated.
"Oh God," she whispers.
Two once majestic black herons are lying dead on the floor. The neck of one is partially severed; the second has had it's head removed entirely. The blood drips slowly through the grate, pooling in the undercarriage of the aircraft below their lifeless bodies.
She raises an unsteady hand to her mouth. Wheeler wraps a protective arm around her, and she buries her cheek against his chest, trembling as he leads her out. Ma-Ti is heading towards them, a concerned look on his face but despite the language barrier, the message the man was trying to convey on Doctor Blight's behalf is crystal clear.
Bleak spat at the cracked ground, crouching down and surveying the compound at the base of the valley below him. Hidden behind twisted shrubs; unaware that he was only a few hundred metres from the spot Wheeler and Ma-Ti had stood, looking down at the same location eleven years before.
The binoculars were laughably weak in terms of magnification. He could only just make out the short bursts of activity beyond the high-security fence line. Distant figures; too far away to make out any distinguishing features but he'd still managed to identify Andrei Kroi the minute his stocky build edged past the semi-trailer; parked in front of the loading dock.
Bastard always did have a peculiar way of walking — an odd lumber; yet his arms were incapable of swinging, hanging by his sides like a couple of concrete pillars.
He narrowed his eyes, wiping the sweat from his brow. There were voices behind him, shrill laughs and he turned and glared at the girls at the other side of the embankment. There were a few others gathered around them; some scattered further away. Every noise and murmur seemed amplified. It made him uncomfortable.
The Water Planeteer and her little buddy were much more subdued. Bunkered down beside one of the vehicles, talking quietly and Bleak's relief was palpable— no longer needing to drag their weight. No longer having to feel responsible for their welfare.
The big guy from Belmont —Tyreece — had rendezvoused with them just outside of Vegas with the fourth team and a rather morbid delivery. Two shrouded objects lie in the shade of the a gnarled bristle-cone pine. Bleak had no illusions as to what was wrapped inside the thick layers of muslin cloth. The bodies had been out in the elements for weeks now and he hoped they were sufficiently dried out enough for the smell to have long since departed.
Another rumble of conversation below him and Bleak cringed, his jaw tense. He was a tactician. Took calculated risks and moved with stealth when the situation called for it. Controlled and agile, he had a talent for staying hidden.
Hard to achieve with the social convention going on behind him. His hand moved to his hip as a twig snapped nearby. He relaxed his grip on the knife as Ma-Ti settled himself beside him.
"They're too loud," Bleak muttered, jacking his thumb over his shoulder. "Gonna get us nabbed. Send 'em away."
Ma-Ti nodded, sending out a silent command and the babble eventually died down. "Anything?"
"Trucks comin' back and forth fairly regularly. Loads are leavin' empty, returnin' with shit. There's a lot of activity around those doors," he said, pointing towards the double-door service entry. "Couple of big guys. Pretty sure I saw my dumb-as-dogshit ex-colleague amongst 'em."
"Kroi?"
"Yeah." He pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing the ground repeatedly. "Mother fucken' bastard. Gonna meet the end of my blade by the time this is through."
Ma-Ti glanced sideways, seemingly interested. "Linka has been dreaming, apparently."
"So?" Bleak straightened, gripping the knife tightly.
Ma-Ti shrugged, nodding towards the latest delivery currently being unloaded — its contents hidden from their view. "She's remembering things. Things she shouldn't be aware of."
"Good for her."
"Just thought you might want to know," he said. "In case certain… details are popping into your head."
"Whatever," he replied. "She and the motor-mouth on their way?"
"Yes, they've just passed through Barstow. Picked up his bike, should hopefully be here by tomorrow." Ma-Ti leaned forward, shielding his eyes from the sun. "You haven't spotted Kwame dragged inside, have you?"
"Nope."
"All right," Ma-Ti muttered, rising to his feet but staying low. "Enlightening conversation, Bleak. I'll leave you —"
"Fucker double-crossed me. "
"What?" Ma-Ti lurched, spinning back around and peering down at him. "Are you —"
"Kroi." Bleak shook his head, stabbing the ground again as Ma-Ti sat back down beside him. "Seein' a lot of shit go down when I close my eyes. Stuff makin' me sick to my stomach."
"Dreams?"
He gave a mirthless laugh. "Not dreams. Fuckin' nightmares. Plunder was doin' a lot more than financin' cheap-ass housing developments and fundin' Blight."
"What do you mean?" Ma-Ti pressed, his tone cautious. "We always suspected —"
"Once Kroi wormed his way in, it all started goin' to hell. Wasn't what I signed up for. Couldn't justify what they were doin', but guess I was no longer needed by then anyway."
"Do you —"
"Over twenty years of loyalty. Meant nothin'." Bleak scowled, shoulders hunched. Eyeing the busy little bees below unloading goods and packages beyond the fence. "It's fucked."
"What are you remembering?"
"He changed Plunder's way of thinking. New business enterprises. Made me sick to my stomach. Takes a lot to make me squeamish, but…" He trailed off, lost in thought.
"Blight?"
"Fuck no," he muttered. "Women. Kroi had certain… compulsions."
"I know," Ma-Ti replied, wincing at the memory. "Linka was on his radar at one point. She barely —"
"At one point?" Bleak threw him a derisive look. "She's the one that got away. Became obsessed. Wanted to —"
"Wanted to what?"
"Forget it." Bleak passed his hand over his head. "Doesn't matter now, anyway."
"Developed a conscience after all those years, Bleak?" Ma-Ti asked quietly and Bleak paused, glaring back at him.
"Didn't work out well for me, did it?" he snapped. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his trousers, trudging carefully down the embankment and leaving Ma-Ti in the cloud of dust kicked up by his scuffed boots.