Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Forty-One
The television flickers. Linka tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to drown out the racket going on in the next cubicle. Kwame and Gi have been sniping at each other steadily over the past two weeks and it's grating on Linka's already fraught nerves. Always the same topic.
She glances at Ma-Ti. He's sitting quietly in the armchair beside Wheeler's bed and she suddenly understands why he's been disappearing so much. You can cut the tension with a knife. Everyone is tired, cranky and stressed out.
The babble dies down and she refocuses on the small television attached to the ceiling, running her fingers through Wheeler's hair. She assumes he's asleep; curled up between her legs with his head pillowed against her chest.
He's been quiet since the hospital refused to discharge him. His blood pressure hasn't come down and she's not sure whether to blame herself for that. They got a little carried away the other night.
There's a slight fever brought on from an infection and they're holding onto him for longer than is necessary. He's not complaining, but she knows he's experiencing some discomfort. They've downgraded his medication. The lower-strength paracetamol is barely making a dent.
Kwame drags a chair over and Gi follows him. Linka winces, intuition telling her that the argument is about to kick-up again in all it's glory.
"I still don't understand why we have to —"
"I am not having this conversation with you, Gi," Kwame hisses. "We keep going around in circles. You know it is also Gaia's wish for us —"
"What would Gaia know?" Gi purses her lips and Linka can see she's barely holding herself together. "It's not like she's been around much lately. She's not exactly in a position to —"
"Have some respect, Gi!" Kwame rounds on her, his face ablaze with frustration. "What has gotten into —"
"I'm just saying I think we're being a little rash," she pleads, standing in front of him. "It should be our decision alone."
"The time is now, Gi," Kwame says. "Nine years… our lives are in danger, we are mad to —"
"Then we take extra precautions," she says. "We're just going to give up? Roll over?"
"Two weeks ago we were on the verge of losing Wheeler," Kwame says. He rubs his temples, eying Gi with frustration. "He nearly bled out on a street in —"
"Don't bring me into this," Wheeler mumbles. He rolls over, blinking up at the ceiling and Linka strokes his face with her thumb, tracing patterns across his skin. He relaxes at her touch, breathing out and settling once again. She presses her mouth against the crown of his head.
"What are you afraid of, Gi," Linka asks gently. "It had to happen sooner or later."
She doesn't answer. Gi's brown eyes are full of emotion. She's the only one who hasn't accepted their impending break-up.
"We will return to Hope Island next week. We will speak to Gaia and go from there. Pack our things. Organise our return."
Gi stands and hurries out the door. Linka can hear her sneakers padding quickly down the corridor. Ma-Ti follows, leaving her alone with the two men.
Wheeler is asleep again. His chest rises and falls steadily and Kwame smiles as Linka smooths the American's messy hair off his forehead. She looks up, catching Kwame watching the pair with something like pride on his face.
"What?" she asks, a little embarrassed.
He shakes his head, regarding her fondly. "Nothing at all, my friend."
She's surprisingly calm. Perched upright on the hotel room couch; hands folded neatly within her lap and staring ahead at nothing in particular.
Ma-Ti is pacing the kitchen. Gi sits beside her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She hasn't said much, but Wheeler and Kwame are making enough noise right now for the five of them. She can hear them in the hotel hallway, engaging in a shouting match with the three CIA staff who were sent to be the bearer of bad news.
Only specific parts of the initial conversation had filtered through. The shock had by then taken over and Linka simply allowed the others to speak for her. She was incapable of doing much else. So many emotions should be churning through her. Fear, distress, terror — yet all she feels right now is a dazed indifference.
After all, it's not every day you find out that there's been a contract placed on your life.
She finds herself wondering how such transactions are organised.
Was the request made by email? A full-page advertisement in The New York Times, or a small snippet in the local buy and sell trading post? Murderers-R-Us?
Is her particular contract on paper, or is it a verbal agreement with a handshake? Perhaps a legal document — her name typed in neat, bold writing with an official letterhead. Signed with Blight's loopy handwriting.
Are there clauses? Financial bonuses for certain methods of murder? Penalty rates for a weekend 'hit'. Will Blight require evidence? Perhaps proof of death. Has a specific method requested? Gun. Knife. Explosive device. Car 'accident'.
Will payment be made by cheque upon successful completion? Bank deposit? Perhaps Barbara Blight has something else in mind.
Linka drops her chin to her chest, closing her eyes and leaning into Gi's side. It's all too much to think about.
Wheeler's voice is resonating loudly from the hallway. He's irate — absolutely furious. She's never heard him so angry.
Their little rendezvous in the hospital seems like a distant memory. The last three days have been spent wandering around in a happy stupor. Daydreaming, counting down the hours until his release.
She's willing to bet Wheeler wasn't expecting to leave hospital and walk into this monumental mess. Dragged out to Washington and shoved into a threadbare hotel room with crummy facilities. Not exactly the way they'd planned to end things.
"Should I go out there?" Ma-Ti's voice is barely audible over the ruckus.
Gi shrugs, propping her chin on Linka's shoulder. "Dunno. Wheeler seems to be getting his point across quite well."
"This is an absolute joke," Ma-Ti says. His face is pale and he's watching Linka carefully. He steps forward, dropping to his knees and gripping Linka's hands. "There is no way they can expect you to just disappear with no notice. It's inhumane, it's —."
"It's their fault, anyway," Gi whispers. "Maybe it's just a threat? Maybe Blight is just pissed off and —"
"It must obviously be serious if the CIA are acting on it," Ma-Ti says. "Witness protection is not something they would take on lightly."
"But why would they —"
Linka doesn't want to hear any more. It makes the situation all the more real. She turns away from them, curling up and resting her head on the arm of the couch. At the end of the day, the result will still be the same.
MAL's programming has been destroyed. SAIP is offline and Barbara Blight is inconsolable — baying for Linka's blood.
The door to the hallway opens and Wheeler blusters in. His face is bright red; his hair dishevelled. He's favoring his right side; his arm hanging stiffly. She can tell he's still experiencing some discomfort but it's been pushed to the back of his mind. Kwame and the agents soon follow, still arguing. A pointless, back and forth battle of wills and no one is backing down.
The lead agent approaches Wheeler — a tall, middle-aged man with a moustache and the prerequisite government agency suit. She thinks his name is Jones. She can't really remember. Linka's never seen him before, but she suspects he's quite high up in terms of importance and pay-grade. He seems stressed.
"We can't fix this, but we need to take steps to ensure Linka —"
"You're expectin' her to leave everything and everyone she knows with no notice whatsoever. Are you fuckin' insane?"
"You can swear all you like," Jones says angrily. "It's not going to change the fact that the threat is real. It's been verified and we have serious concerns for her safety."
"Serious concerns?" Kwame says, folding his arms and glancing at her. "Linka has had serious concerns since this whole situation began. You chose not to listen."
"She knew the risks, we —"
"Yeah, she knew the risks!" Wheeler throws his good hand in the air in frustration. "The only one at risk was her! You knew that! Linka warned you —"
"We made a tactical decision. SAIP was infiltrating too many secure government databases. We needed to act!"
"And she's gonna take the fall for you! It's all landin' on her shoulders, like you knew it would!"
Jones is looking more uncomfortable with each passing second. "She offered to help. She had a unique insight into Barbara Blight and a high level of technical knowledge. Her help was invaluable, she's done —"
"After all she's done for you? She's spent all her adult life helping others, and you assholes fed her to the wolves!"
Another agent chimes in. "We had no choice. We had to make —"
"Bullshit," Wheeler says, glaring at the agents. "I swear, it's like talkin' to a brick wall! She's takin' the fall for this and all you assholes can say is —"
"You expect me to leave now?" Linka's voice is trembling. Everybody pauses, staring at the blonde girl who has barely said a word since the agents showed up on their doorstep. "You honestly expect me to just say goodbye and leave with you now? To disappear?"
Wheeler moves to interject and she raises her hand, warning him to stop. She raises her eyes to the lead agent. She's numb, wondering if it's all a dream, because nothing can be as out of touch from reality as this conversation.
"Your safety is severely compromised. The threat is real. Our source is very reliable. Blight's offering a lot of money to take you down. Several million. We know of at least three people who have accepted. Andrei Kroi is one of them."
"Kroi?" Wheeler's face pales. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"
"You're all about to disband." The agent shakes his head, watching Linka with sympathetic eyes. "Once you give up your power, you'll be defenceless. You're single. No partner or children, it's a relatively easy relocation."
"I don't believe this?" Wheeler drops down into the chair by the kitchen table. His head is in his hands and he looks utterly devastated. "Can one of us go with her?"
"Nyet," Linka says quickly. Resolute. "I will not condemn any of you to this."
"Oh, come off it, Linka," he snaps. "You can't be —"
"We are giving up our powers!" she cries. "I do not have a choice but the rest of you do! I will not allow anyone to sacrifice their safety for —"
"Stop martyring yourself!" he shouts back. "For once in your goddamn life, would you just —"
"Shut up, Yankee!" she cries, jumping to her feet. "You think I want this? You think I want to leave? I do not have a choice! I —"
"Of course you have a choice!" Wheeler shouts; fists clenched by his sides and staring down at her. "You can choose to tell 'em to go jump of a cliff! They've completely fucked up and you shouldn't have to suffer for it!"
"What other option do I have, Yankee?" she pleads, crossing her arms stiffly. "I can either accept their help or become another statistic on Andre Kroi's criminal record. That is if the other two do not find me first!"
"Then let one of us come with you," Wheeler says. "For fuck's sake, at least you won't have to go alone."
"I will not condemn you!" she cries. "Just leave it alone, Wheeler! I should never have tried to help! I should have stayed out of it! It is all on me. I will not drag any of you… why would I willingly risk your safety?"
"This whole conversation is pointless anyway," Jones interjects. "Our protective orders cover immediate family only. Husbands, wives, children. I doubt any of you would qualify for —"
"You can't be serious," Wheeler groans. Linka flinches as Wheeler slams his hand down on the small study desk. "You guys are an absolute joke."
"This isn't right," Gi whispers. She leans back, rubbing her face and glaring at the agents. "This is disgusting."
"We need to move promptly. The longer we —"
"You're not takin' her," Wheeler seethes. "Over my dead body."
The agent sighs. "There's a car waiting downstairs. We have new documentation being organised as we speak. We have a safe house ready here in Washington. Couple of days, then we transfer you to an undisclosed —"
"Undisclosed?" Gi whispers. "You're really going to —"
"We've tracked Kroi to Geneva. He's about to board a plane. The other two targets are unknown to us at this time, so we can't anticipate their movements. The risk far outweighs the — "
"Then we just keep our powers," Gi says. "We have more chance of holding them back if —"
"This line of thinking did not work for Wheeler," Kwame says softly. "It is not working for any of us anymore. We are working with semi-automatic weapons and criminals now. Linka will not last long if this is the case."
"That's why it's imperative that we leave now. You're going to have to say your goodbyes. We'll give you five —"
"No." Kwame's voice is commanding and it cuts short the conversation in a heartbeat. "Not tonight."
"What do you —"
Kwame shakes his head. "No. You want to take her, you do it our way."
"I hardly think you have the —"
"No," Kwame repeats again. "She has loose ends to tie up. Family to call. Bags to pack and a ring to return."
"Our orders are to —"
"Tomorrow," Ma-Ti says quietly. He's thumbing his ring and watching Linka with sympathetic eyes. "She will be safe for tonight."
The lead agent crosses his arms over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Fine. We'll return in the morning, but no later. For the moment, we have a security detail posted in the lobby and the corridor, they're keeping an eye out for him and anyone else who looks suspicious."
"Jesus," Wheeler groans. He looks like he's going to be physically sick. "This is insane."
"Best to change your appearance before we leave," the agent says. "Have you got someone who can cut and dye your hair?"
"I can do it," Gi says, wiping away tears. She grabs her purse, squeezing Linka's shoulder on her way past. "I'll grab you some stuff. You're gonna need —"
"Everything," Linka whispers. She barely notices Gi slip quickly out the door. "All my things… we do not have time. Where is Gaia?"
"She's washed her hands of us," Wheeler says bitterly. "Like she's gonna —"
"We'll leave you to it," Jones says. The agents file out the door. One flips his phone out, dialling a number and pressing the handset to his ear as he leaves. "We'll return around 6am."
Wheeler kicks the door shut behind them, turning and rounding on his teammates. "Tell me we're not —"
"They are extremely worried," Ma-Ti says, turning his eyes to Linka again. "I can feel it. Kroi will not stop. The man is obsessed with you."
"Jesus," Wheeler moans. "Linka, you gotta reconsider lettin —"
"No!" Linka cries. "Enough, Wheeler! They have already said they will not relocate anyone else. And even if they did — you all have families! Homes and friends to go to! What if something happens? I would never forgive myself if —"
"We will need to relinquish our rings tomorrow before you go," Kwame says. He's leaning against the wall, rubbing his brow. He looks overwhelmed. "We will bring it forward."
"Why are we even considering this?" Wheeler strides forward, gripping Linka by the shoulders. She can barely look at him. "This is insane, those creeps don't deserve to —"
"What would you have me do, Yankee," she whispers. "My hands are tied. I have no ch —"
"Linka, I'll go with you!"
"You heard what they said! They will not issue new identities to anyone who isn't related. What is the point if you were unable to relocate with me?"
She trails off, sinking back onto the couch and dropping her face into her hands, unable to stem the tears falling silently down her cheeks. She suspects they're tears of disappointment more than anything. Of lost dreams and tenuous hopes, all disintegrating before her eyes.
"Even now — even after everything," Wheeler says, taking a seat beside her. "You still dig your goddamn heels in? Would you at least —"
"Bozhe moy, Wheeler!" she moans. "They have already said they will not allow it. What would you have me do? Why would I willingly wish to put your life in danger? Why would you commit yourself to that life?"
"Why would I… are you serious?" He's wide-eyed, disbelieving. "Why would I commit myself —"
"Wheeler," Kwame says warningly. He can read him like a book. "This is a delicate situation. We are all —"
Wheeler shrinks back, staring at her with a look of sheer frustration on his face. He sighs, shoulders slumped and reaching for her hand; clasping it tightly within his warm grip.
"Nine years and you still don't have a clue?" Wheeler sits back, shaking his head in wonder. "I adore you... but honestly? You're the dumbest 'smart' person I've ever met."
She stands in a manner far more dignified than required. Releasing his hand, she walks across the living room, entering the bedroom and closing the door quietly behind her.
The bed was round and plush; oodles of pink confection-like frills and fuchsia trimmings. A giant marshmallow. The quilt was top-quality. Luxurious, cottony heaven. People had no concept of how difficult it was to find sheets to fit the massive circular mattress, but her people had found linen that had finally met with her approval. It had taken some diligent searching.
Perhaps a little ranting.
Like the rest of the compound, her bedroom was packed to the brim with her possessions. Her pride and joy. More mannequins — because their ambivalent faces were better company than the buffoons at her disposal outside of these walls. Scientific equipment. Test tubes, microscopes, beakers, bunsen burners. Discarded hard drives.
MAL's shattered monitor took pride of place beneath the window. A shrine, covered with crude drawings and letters. His screen remained forever dark. She'd drawn his face on using lipstick several years ago — it comforted her to talk to him. Discuss her plans with him. Bark and scream at him, sob at the injustice of it all.
Her room was her sanctuary, giving her somewhere to go when the burden of being Queen Bee became too much for her.
The company of others tended to annoy her these days. She now considered herself to be a solitary creature.
It was the headaches. The persistent pain behind her eyes. It varied between a dull throb and an all-out blinding vomit-inducing paralysis that often kept her locked away in the dark for days at a time.
Her hair had began falling out during the Fall months. Or so she believed, since the leaves were dropping off the trees when the first strands were dropping away with her hairbrush.
The nose bleeds had started soon after; waking up in a wet puddle of blood smeared across her face and pillow. Her chin and jaw were constant agony. The sores were a recent development. Some days they oozed all manner of liquid filth. She'd quickly had her people destroy all the mirrors within the compound, along with covering any reflective surfaces.
But no matter how hard her mind tried to ignore the symptoms, her body was a constant, crippling reminder of the fact she was unwell.
She wasn't stupid. She was a modern day Marie Curie, tinkering with the same materials with the same level of primitive technology.
Isotopes. Neutrons. Gamma rays. Radium.
Plutonium.
Radiation poisoning. No surprises there — she was dying.
But at the end of the day, it didn't matter. Her project was complete. The plan was in motion and she would leave her nuclear legacy. She would use the portal to enter the blonde brat's universe, reuniting with MAL before she succumbed to her illness. She assumed that the rusted metallic object in the lab would obliterate the world she left behind when the time portal imploded.
Her assumptions were always correct.
MAL's retribution was coming. She would see it through.
If she was dying, she was taking the rest of them with her.
"Whaddya want me to say, Red," Bleak muttered, pushing the gun into the waistband of his trousers. "I'm as much a victim as you are."
"Victim?" Wheeler snorted, throwing him an annoyed look. "You're anything but a victim, Bleak. You made your choice. Linka said you beat the living shit outta me back in your time before —"
"Following orders," he said. He shoved the hammer into Wheeler's chest. "Besides, your little wife wouldn't have made it this far if it hadn't been for —"
"What do ya want, Bleak?" Wheeler rolled his eyes, glaring down at him. "Medal? Round of applause? Ticker-tape parade?"
"A thank-you would be a good start."
"Oh, right," Wheeler said sarcastically. "Thank you for beatin' the shit outta me, and you know… doin' what any other decent human being should be doin' anyway."
"You're welcome."
"That wasn't really a thank-you."
"I'm choosin' to take it as one."
"Jesus," Wheeler muttered. "You're still as annoying as all —"
"So you got kids with Blondie, then?"
"Yeah," he said. Wheeler paused, watching Bleak tightening the bolts on the vehicle. "What's it to —"
"Just interested," Bleak said, wiping his brow. "Plunder always thought you two were goin' at it behind closed doors."
"Oh, God," he groaned. "I really didn't need to know that."
"Blight was doin' everyone," Bleak remarked. "The woman was insatiable."
"Didn't need to know that either."
"Fuck anything with a heartbeat." He pointed his wrench towards Linka again. "Pretty much everyone assumed that you and —"
"We weren't," Wheeler said, taking a seat on the dusty ground behind him. "Not while in the group."
"Blondie said the same," Bleak replied. "Girl and a boy?"
"Huh?"
"Your kids," Bleak said, rolling his eyes. "You got a —"
"Yeah," Wheeler replied, shaking his head slightly at the unusual conversation unfolding. He glanced back, watching Linka and Gi sitting together under a shrub; hands clasped and talking quietly. "Girl and a boy."
"Mmm," Bleak said. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to fit the manifold over the cart. "Chick's got guts, I'll give her that. Been through the wringer."
Wheeler didn't reply. He leaned back, twisting around and catching Linka watching him intently. She dropped her gaze, flushing red and tucking her hair behind her ears self-consciously.
Bleak snorted. The awkward exchange hadn't escaped his attention. "Someone has a little crush on you."
"Yeah," Wheeler said with a heavy sigh, refocusing on the weird contraption Bleak was working on. "I noticed."
"Fuck her on the way here?" Bleak asked in a low voice.
Wheeler clenched his fists, glaring at the back of Bleak's bald head. "Are you just so lacking in basic conversational skills that you —"
"Simple question."
"No!" he seethed. "Not that it's any of your fuckin' —"
"Why haven't you? She's obviously good for it, you —"
"Why the hell would I put myself through that again? She's goin' home. Just because you're completely devoid of —"
"Makes sense, that's all," Bleak replied. He looked back, his eyes glancing over Linka's lithe frame. "She's young. She's cute. She's alive, which is a bonus. We get this done, stop thinkin' about it and go —"
"Great," Wheeler said, a little incredulous at the topic of conversation. "Takin' sex advice from a Neanderthal who probably roughs up prostitutes in his spare —"
"I'm just sayin' might be good to get it off your chest. Or rather, off your —"
"Thanks for the chat, Oprah," Wheeler interrupted, jumping to his feet and dusting off his trousers. "Seriously. It's been enlightening."
"Heart boy gone?"
"Yeah," Wheeler replied. "He snuck in the back entrance. Already locked on to his ring."
Bleak shrugged. "Tell the rest of the pipsqueaks to be ready. I'm about to send it in."
"Whatever," Wheeler replied, trudging back towards Tyreece.
A massive explosion roused Kwame from his restless sleep. He sat up quickly, passing a hand over his face as he looked around in fright. The walls shook and eventually calmed again. He could hear a commotion beyond his cell; people running and shouting loudly. Screams, followed by smaller explosions.
The ever-present darkness hampered his ability to see but a small crack of light was visible on the other side of the room. The bald heads of the mannequins glowed eerily as a result. Another shuffling sound and Kwame leant forward, aware now that someone was in here with him.
"Who's there?" he whispered, hairs rising on the back of his neck. He clutched a narrow metal pole in his fist; squirrelled away the night before as a result of his shackled scavenging attempts. "Who —"
A face bore down on him, illuminated from an unidentified light source hovering just behind him. Kwame recoiled, half expecting it to be Blight again. The face was masculine, though. Bulbous nose and vacant eyes, a look of dazed confusion.
It was the driver of the truck who had transported him here.
"Wha —" Kwame started, scurrying backwards as the man slumped forward, crashing to the ground unconscious. Another shadow burst forth behind him and Kwame grinned with relief, knowing who was responsible for the unexpected intrusion. "You took your time."
"Didn't even need to lock onto your ring," Ma-Ti said, sinking to his knees beside him. "They were all gathered around outside trying to get it to work… until Bleak's fire-bomb sent them running for cover."
"Fire-bomb?"
"Yes. Bleak sent a golf-cart into the loading dock. Took out most of their transport. Drawing them away from the labs on the other side of the building. Linka's waiting for them."
Kwame looked down as an object was slipped over his finger. He clenched his fists. "I was beginning to think you were not coming."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes," Kwame said. "I have had Barbara Blight making frequent visits."
"You have seen her?" Ma-Ti tugged at the rope, raising his eyes in surprise. "Is she —"
"Nuttier than a fruit cake does not even begin to cover it," Kwame commented drily. He leant forward, pulling the rope taut with the hands bound behind his back. He aimed his ring blindly at the wall behind him. "Earth."
The tethered metal ring slipped free from the wall, clanging to the ground loudly. The ropes slackened as he scurried forward, slipping them free of the metal.
"Hang on," Ma-Ti said, working quickly to unknot the bindings around his wrists. "Cannot see a thing in here."
Kwame nodded his head towards the mannequins. "I have not been short of company."
"A little creepy."
A few more moments and Kwame was free. He rubbed his bruised skin for a moment before stumbling to his feet and stretching the kinks out of his muscles. "Do we have a plan?"
"Linka is currently rounding up as many people as she can with her ring. There's an empty water tank just beyond the property. It would have once serviced the whole town. We're locking them down."
"We do not wish to drown —"
"Gi has already checked — it is definitely clear. She is depositing anyone loitering around so we have less to deal with once inside."
"Something is wrong with Blight," Kwame said. He shuddered, recalling her hideous appearance. "I think she is sick. Perhaps dying."
"From what?"
"Blistering sores. She has lost her hair." Kwame stepped carefully towards the door, peering through the crack Ma-Ti had left. "She was bleeding from the mouth and ears last night. She was rambling about a 'big bang'. A big fire. Purification, or something. She said it's the one thing she didn't have to send her people out to find."
"What are you thinking?" Ma-Ti's mouth hung open as he considered the implications.
"We never found those nuclear warheads, Ma-Ti." Kwame leaned against the wall, looking tired and worried. "Remember all those years ago? We were tracking down the weapons? We thought it was Plunder? We never recovered them. What if it was Blight? It would explain the —"
"Radiation poisoning?"
Kwame nodded. "Exactly. From nuclear weapons. Blight never knew when to —"
"She has had them the whole time," Ma-Ti said, finally understanding. "What do you —"
"She was raving about revolution. That we were going to burn. Redemption."
"Is she… do you think Blight is planning on sending a weapon through the portal?"
"No," he said. "I think it will detonate here when she tries to leave. She has been threatening to wipe us out for years. I think this has been her plan all along. Can you try to read her?"
"I doubt there is enough mind left to read, Kwame."
He nodded, knowing Ma-Ti was right. "We need to move. I will need you to contact the others."