Death of Innocence
Day 12
Homeless Encampment, early afternoon same day
Now that he was upright again, and the wave of nausea and dizziness had almost passed, Reese needed to make a plan.
First things first. Hadn't been eating or drinking much for a couple of weeks now, so he was pretty empty inside. But all that coffee had to go somewhere, and he was getting signals that it was time to lose it.
And he needed to get his clothes off to stop the itching. He'd been drenched in sweat during the night, and soaked through all his clothes, which were hot like his skin when he first got up, but now were cooling in the breeze coming off the water. Chills'd be starting any time now.
Reese reached for his backpack and swung it up over the top of his shoulders, wincing on that left side. The padding for the strap ended up sitting right over the entry wound of that second bullet, across his chest. Probably clipped a rib underneath, too, and that's why it'd been so sore. Seems like he was becoming the Broken Rib King. He'd had more than his fair share of those.
Glanced around and then leaned down to grab his cardboard off the ground, rolling it up into a cigar shape and stashing it next to Joan's lean-to for safe-keeping. Wasn't much of a cushion against the hard cement, but it was warmer. That done, he rambled off to the main drag - about a half-mile away. Another mile down, there were some stores and a coffee shop over that way, where he could clean up and have a little breakfast. Wasn't quite ready for the taste of lunch yet.
Still limping, and he was sore all over from the shaking chills last night and sleeping on the hard ground. Must be getting old. Time to hang it up, this kind of life. Look at me, he thought. Shot full of holes, broken rib, patched and sewn together like an old quilt. Time to hang it up and pick something else.
A mile and a half didn't seem that far, until he'd had to walk it. Been starting to fade when he saw the coffee shop up ahead and got his second wind. He'd forgotten about the shop, because they'd just opened about the same time he was leaving the Camp to work for Finch.
One day he was here, the next he wasn't. Came back to say a proper goodbye to Joan one time. She thought he might've gone off and died somewhere, so she seemed happy to see him when he showed up at the Camp again: shaved, washed, wearing some clean, decent clothes.
She said she'd barely recognized him – except for the eyes. His blue eyes. Piercing, she said. And she'd never forget them.
Down at the coffee shop, they seemed to be doing a pretty brisk business. Didn't notice him spending a little time in the men's room. Locked the door behind him and then went to work on himself. Stripped out of the wet clothes and grabbed a handful of wet paper towels and the bar of soap from his pack. It was one of those tiny, palm-sized ones from a hotel room stay. This one smelled a little more like Kara than him, but it's the one he had, so he used it.
Funny how scents can take you straight back. They'd finished a job a little sooner than expected and had a couple of days before the next. Treated themselves to a nice hotel, ocean view, some time on the beach and some good food.
"Haven't slept in days," she said, "but who's counting?"
Both of them were dragging and haggard when they'd arrived. Really needed the time.
Most of the time they just slept – in the room, on the beach, didn't much matter. Needed it, to re-charge. That shower was luxurious, and he recalled the smell of the soap. Wet, in the shower, and then later, on her.
"You clean up pretty good there, Soldier," she'd said.
"Not bad yourself."
Had a long, lazy dinner – late, and then a long, lazy walk on the beach. Found a little private spot. Shared a bottle of wine. One thing led to another. The sun woke them, next morning.
"Reese."
"Reese!"
"I'm up, I'm up."
And they had sand in places they didn't even know they had places.
Walked back to the hotel. Showered. Slept some more, until they heard the knock at the door. Maid checking to see if the room was empty.
"Don't think I could ever be accused of having insomnia," Kara had said at dinner that night. "I could sleep standing up. Think I used to, back in Basic."
Those two days had given him a different perspective on Kara. Watching her go from haggard to bronzed and relaxed – made him think about whether the two of them were ever gonna get out - have something like a normal life. Did people like them ever graduate? Be done? Move on?
Two days.
And then they were back at it, like before.
Snow had stopped to notice. He'd definitely noticed. Looked the two of them up and down, but didn't say a word. Then.
He was always the kind of guy who'd notice, and never forget. It'd come out later, half-hidden in something else he'd said.
Reese wondered if anyone had ever known what kind of a psych job he'd been. Good at hiding himself behind all the official trappings. Could come and go as he pleased, all of it under the radar. Wouldn't see him coming until it was too late.
Like Ordos.
He still remembered limp-running down the grass, away from the pick-up site. And the sound of the missile hitting behind him.
Threw him off his feet. Rolling, rolling.
And the sky a brilliant ball of red.