Monkey suspected the stillness was hiding something deadly. He had accompanied Trip on several scavenging trips before, always wary for the soft, telltale whoosh or clink of lurking mechs. By now he could usually detect them while they were still hundreds of yards away, even beneath the constant drone of insects and chattering of birds. But today the life that usually teemed around them was muffled and distant, the air stiflingly calm. His blood swooshed steadily in his ears. Sunlight filtered through verdant overhanging leaves and bathed them both in sticky, close warmth. "Almost there, Monkey." Trip pointed to a blinking dot on the map of her databand's holo-projection. Their destination would likely be around the next poison-ivy-smothered brick corner. They had woven their way through an especially overgrown section of Dead Boston to find a veritable treasure trove; a huge electronics recycling warehouse. Once there he planned to keep watch at the crumbling entry while she gleefully burrowed into heaps of dusty plastic and gleaming wires for scrap parts.
They never reached the warehouse. Trip's startled gasp and the whoosh of the mech's hydraulics were the only warning Monkey had. It wasn't enough. He whirled around just in time to see its bayonet impale Trip, the tip of the blade emerging from her back. A millisecond too late, Monkey blasted the mech's head off with a bolt of plasma from his staff, its arm sliding out of Trip's chest as it collapsed. As he ran to her, she hunched over, staring at the wound, her jaw slack with disbelief. He dove the last couple feet and caught her, calling her name as she sank to her knees. He pressed hard on the wound but blood was seeping from her chest with every heartbeat. Her face was numb, eyes drifting vacantly. He was about to die with her. Monkey had always been terrified of this moment, but now he felt obscenely calm and detached, as if he were watching the scene unfold from afar. Every breath was an effort for her now. "I'm sorry… never should've…I'm sorry I lied." "What're you -" His voice came out as a strange croak. He could see her breathing and heart rates on his heads-up display slowing as her life drained crimson through his fingers. Her head slowly lolled back but her eyes found his. "Termination trigger… shut it down… while you were asleep … you'll be ok … after I'm gone… I promise…" Monkey felt something cave away inside him. A bottomless chasm had opened up. It was going to swallow him whole from the inside. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was not supposed to get stuck here without her; not supposed to be alone anymore. "No-" "I'm sorry..." "Trip…" "sorry." "Trip…"Within seconds her vitals faded to nothing. As her body went limp, Monkey's tensed. It was an involuntary reflex he'd developed over the years. Tense your whole being as hard as iron. That way your enemies won't see you tremble. The pointlessness of it hit Monkey like a physical blow to the gut, knocking the breath out of him. Death would not be fooled by appearances. No amount of bluffing or posturing to hide his agony would bring her back. He suddenly realized he was sobbing, and embracing her the way he'd always wished he'd had the courage to before. When she was alive. But Trip was gone. And he was alone again.
Monkey jolted awake in the dark. Agony dissolved into dizzying relief tempered by exhaustion. Breathless and bleary-eyed, he swung his leaden feet over the side of his bed, rubbing his eyes and his forehead, where his headband used to rest. Damn these dreams, he thought. They'd started the night Trip had killed Pyramid and his headband had deactivated. The nightmares always involved her vital signs stopping. He'd grown accustomed to the visibility of her breathing and heart rates in the corner of his vision. Their constant activity must have worked their way into his dreams, and now some primal part of his nervous system could not comprehend why these signs of Trip's life had disappeared. He needed to ask her to get the headband working again. He knew she'd love the challenge of the task, but he'd been putting off asking her until he could come up with a better cover story. He didn't fancy the idea of telling her he regularly woke up bawling like a child over her, and he was convinced that if he just told her he wanted to monitor her vitals, he'd come off as invasively overprotective at best, or downright creepy at worst. Mine detection would sound legitimate enough. After all, there were plenty of those left in some of the scavenging areas they frequented. He had promised her he'd help her repair a section of the outer defenses today. Might as well get started. Monkey opened the door and strode out into the chill early morning fog.