2. Sharkie
Date: 4-24-2024
Time: 0857
I love fried food.
The smell wafts through the humid air from the catering trucks on the other side of the security fence as soon as my foot hits the stairs outside the plane, making my stomach rumble. That flimsy flap of metal is the only thing that separates our private airway from the outskirts of town. Whoever’s idea it was to place a strip here was stupid. You used to see kids running all around enjoying school-free weekends, but now that’d be a walking safety hazard. Not to mention the air carriers flying so low emanate a sound loud enough that I have to turn up the volume of my headphones so I can properly hear the music.
I wipe my palms against my navy cargo pants, ridding the sweat that accumulated during landing and my eyes arrive at the blacked-out vehicle which sits idling on the pavement as I pass by the guardhouse. The smell grows stronger, taunting me with the fact that I can’t run to grab a corn dog like the soldiers behind me can. After all, the war hasn’t been won, which means I’m not off the clock. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever get a break to enjoy the things I used to.
Flicking my ponytail over my shoulder, I tug the cable, forcing my earbuds to fall out. I look around at the men and women hugging their family members after their extensive leave from their missions for Bay. It’s sad really, how each soldier is hiding their true purpose from the ones they love. Every smiling face that isn’t dressed in deep blue fatigues is painfully unaware of the war we are fighting. No need to cause panic after The Chaos.
Exhaustion nips at my very being so consistently that I nearly collapse into the backseat of the car, lids heavy enough that the vision of Rosalie sitting poised behind the wheel becomes blurred. I can feel her stare through the rearview mirror, analyzing my every move and searching for some expression of emotion. She’d have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack.
She’s like Karma, always holding her tongue from what she really wants to say, but keeping the atmosphere comfortable enough that I know, for at least a moment, I’m not alone.
“How has it been?”
I manage a low, negative sounding hum in response as I pull on my seatbelt.
“Just get some rest, sweetheart. We have a decent drive, anyway.”
My head jolts from falling forward when I hear her words. The corner of my mouth tugs, “You won’t fall asleep with me, right? I’d rather make it in one piece.”
Honestly, I’m just trying to keep myself awake with the stupid joke, but I know I’ll fail.
The rolling of the one-way divider cuts through, breaking our eye contact and leaving me by myself. I know she’s there, yet I can’t see or hear her. For once everything is quiet, besides the gentle, constant noise of the tires spinning and I lose my battle with sleep.
“You’re gonna swim so far, Sharkie. Exceed lengths and expectations.”
Rain droplets coat the double-pane window, yet light still filters through, creating rays as if angels were descending from the heavens.
“We will only be gone for a few weeks, but I promise you, it’ll all be worth it. A new world.”
My finger dips into the white icing as my mother slaps at my hand and my father laughs. Even over the freshly baked chocolate cake, I can smell my mother’s perfume and my father’s cologne mixing as if that’s what they were made to do.
“I know Dad, I’ll be fine. I’m eighteen now, anyway. An adult.” My chest puffs as I sing my words to him, the sparkle in his eye making me smile, showing all my teeth before the smooth icing is transferred to his nose.
We run through the house, everyone on the other’s heels.
Laughter.
My body flings forward and the seatbelt jolts my body back almost painfully.
“What the hell!” I snap, my breathing rapid and uneven as all my senses kick into overdrive, forcing me to shake out of the dream that I always find myself in.
I tap the divider impatiently until Rosalie rolls it down, her laugh growing the more she comes into view, her blonde graying curls bouncing with the shake of her nimble shoulders.
“Mornin’ sunshine. Sorry, did I wake you?”
I want to be mad, but the crinkles in her eyes make me soften. She reminds me of my mother, sweet and kind, yet she can give a look that makes you cower like a scorned dog with your tail tucked between your legs.
She’s safe.
Blowing out a breath of air, my hair pushes with it.
“Yeah, yeah, real funny.” I say, tilting my head to peer out the back window and up at the base. The towering height never ceases to amaze me.
It doesn’t look like home; it doesn’t feel like home either.
My superior decided it would be best to hide in plain view, using the money my parents left to create our headquarters. A single location that houses all our personnel; our men, women, techs, equipment specialists, you name it, it sits within this building. Since the purpose of our factions is so private, Depth can’t risk the public seeing their true intentions by raiding. It’s a bonus that its appearance mirrors your average business empire, so no one questions it'd purpose. It still looks out of place amongst the original buildings standing a quarter of its height with vibrant colors instead of cold steel gray.
I wish I was back across the sea getting my hands dirty, preferably not in blood though. Maybe one of those fun little cafés I like to go to, where everyone is blissfully unaware of the monster living next door.
This isn’t the life I originally planned for myself. Sometimes I can’t believe at one point I dreamed of a white picket fence, close enough to the ocean you could smell it but far enough that you felt secluded. I wanted a simple existence, with dogs and music playing through the house on rainy days. Maybe a husband and kids, just like my parents had, but unlike them, I’d see it through. Grow old with them.
Turns out the world spins in funny ways, taking us down paths we never imagined.
I yawn. “Thanks, Rosie. I’ll see you later.”
The smell of rubber and trash hit me like a freight train as I push open the extravagant car door. There are too many people walking around and too many cars driving by. You think of South Carolina, you think of green grass, sunshine, and small humble towns. You don’t think of said small humble town looking like it had rampant sex with New York and made some mutant baby city. It’s an eye-sore, to say the least. No matter how many years I wander the roads, I’ll never adjust to it. I’ll always compare it to what it once was before the world went sideways.
The lobby feels freezing as I step through the revolving doors. It stinks in here; it smells clean, but not like the lemon-scented Lysol that makes your nose tingle. It’s more like plastic. Synthetic. Most people when they arrive home after an extended trip eat, sleep, and shower, but of course, that’s not the case here. There’s no time for rest. My jaw tightens as I march across the lobby, to the point it makes my head hurt looking at my reflection in the metal sliding doors for the elevator.
It dings as I click the top floor button, smiling to myself as I fight the intrusive thought of dragging my hand down the numbers just to see them all light up. I harden my expression. Dutton always says that the part I play needs to be serious. Someone who kills the way I do shouldn’t be smiling all the time. I know that much, but the little silly thoughts remind me that people can still be good in their own twisted way. It reminds me that I’m still human.
When the doors open, I’m surrounded by white. Squinting against the bright light casting through every window which surrounds the open room, decorated with exquisite milky furniture and statues that should be held in a museum.
“If it isn’t Little Miss Cordi!”
I flinch from the voice reverberating in the vast, lifeless space.
For one, I hate that nickname and for two, he sounds far too happy. I turn toward his voice, clasping my hands behind my back and straightening my shoulders.
“How’re you, Mr. Dutton?” I reply in return, trying to do the respectful thing and at least share his newfound happiness even if my voice is the definition of monotone.
I am the perfect soldier.
I catch a whiff of pizza and find myself inching towards the greasy smell coming from the large white marble bar. It’s the only spot in the entire office that doesn’t have a window behind it. Typically, the back is occupied by James as he spends his day pouring glasses of wine or scotch for any of Dutton’s visitors, but this time, it’s empty.
My fingers hook under the box lid, my tan contrasting drastically against the marble beneath. The beautiful sight of pineapples and ham layered above mozzarella has my mouth watering. I may hold a passionate dislike for pizza, but Hawaiian is one I can’t turn away no matter how hard I try.
“Figured you were hungry. Eat as much as you want. I have exciting news!” His hands clap, a piercing sound which makes me hyper conscious of how close he is standing behind me. The hairs on my neck raise as I shift to keep an eye on him out of my peripherals. I’m always aware of my surroundings, well almost always, that day was an exception. Yet right now, I’m more aware than ever.
I gingerly grab a piece, feeling the heat warm my skin. It’s as if I’ve been starving for days. Living on a soldier’s diet always gives you enough to satiate the ache in your stomach, but never enough to be fully satisfied.
The high-pitched laugh goes unnoticed as soon as I take a bite and let my tastebuds ignite, the sweet and salty mingle and transport me back to being a kid sitting in my mother’s office after a day of ‘working’ with her. Even though I never really worked, I drew stick figures under rainbows while my mom handled the ‘hard stuff’, as she’d call it. Dutton, being the good friend he was, always magically seemed to appear as soon as our stomachs started rumbling.
“Well?” I prod, doing my best to seem as polite as possible, even though my body is begging me to just plop down on the floor and finish the box without interruption.
His gray eyes gleam with amusement, mirroring the shine of each medal that adorns his navy-blue jacket. Everything about him screams power and it makes me realize that I can’t hold the confidence he does in his shoulders or draw in a room with the boom of my voice. I guess some people are made for fancy titles and others, for the field. I don’t remember the last time I saw him in combat, let alone the training grounds, but his physique is square and chiseled, overly healthy for a sixty-something year old man. His hair is lighter than it was four years ago when we started, but there’s not a spec of gray. I’ve concluded he dyes it because there’s no chance he can be under this much stress and the only visible reflection of it is the slight worry lines on his forehead.
“I know the last two men you visited weren’t what we were hoping for, but I think we have a solid lead this time. I know you just got back, so I won’t rush you out—"
My eyes roll. I know it’s disrespectful. After all, I do report to him, but how many times have we heard that we have a solid lead? We never do. It's like fishing in barren waters without a hook.
Dutton steps forward and I step back out of instinct. If he's close, then I've done something wrong. The smell of his high-end cologne overpowering the pizza isn’t mingling well in my senses and my tongue cements itself to the roof of my mouth, refusing to let the bite go down my throat.
Another step. The back of my hips hit the marble, and my heart starts to race. I hate it when he gets close.
“I’m sending you with a team this time.”
That’s the perfect thing to get me intrigued. The best team I’ve ever gotten is Karma in my ear. Dutton always says someone with my skill set doesn’t need others hauling them down, but I think that’s a shitty excuse since he’s already keeping me under the radar.
“Sounds important then.” I say, setting my half-eaten slice back in the box and making my way towards the front of his office, trying desperately to gain some space. The ungodly city continues to move below. Each honk of a horn or ding of a shop’s bell is loud enough to hear from up here. So many bodies swarm the streets, you can’t see the pavement anymore.
I place my palm against the glass, but the beaming sun doesn’t heat my hand. Lifeless . It’s easy to forget how high up this space is until you glance down. The sight is enough to make my stomach knot better than a boy scouts rope.
“Very important.” Dutton's voice drops to a husky whisper, breaking me from my thoughts. Carefully, I face him again, my hands returning to the familiar position of the tight clasp behind my back, concealing the fidgeting of my thumbs. “You’ll be infiltrating Depth. Or drawing out their leader, Tide. Whichever comes first.”
My brows shoot so high they almost touch my hairline. Everything goes still besides my rapid breathing and uneven heart rate. I’ve been waiting for this moment. The first time I saw him was by chance and I’d never told a soul, not even Karma. I don’t know why I kept it to myself, but maybe, just maybe, I had some hope that this would all end easily. Of course, either way, he was going to end up dead at my feet, but it’d be clean. I gave him his warning, and he didn’t heed it. Now I guess I needed to finish what his precious daddy started.
I force a nod. There’d be another time to dwell on the deep green eyes that haunt my dreams. I’m one step closer. The end of the war now brushing against my fingertips. I don’t want fame or glory; Dutton can have that. I just want to make my parents proud, get revenge for them, and take back whatever normal life I might attain after everything I’ve done.
“Just give me the details and I’ll do my best.” I say. His lips curl into a grin, peaking just enough of the unnaturally over-white teeth that lay beneath.
“I’ll have Karma walk you through it.” His features harden as his smile dies. Obviously watching someone grow up means personal boundaries don’t apply, because suddenly I’m caged against the glass. His hands resting on either side of my head, biting back a gag as his breath fans across my face, even though there is still space between us it’s a hell of a lot closer than I ever want to be with him. He does realize I can kill him in a heartbeat, right? His lips get dangerously close to my ear, his voice threateningly low.
“Your parents would be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
I stare him in the eye, my heart beating so hard I can feel my neck pulsate. Then I think of him . That droplet of blood.
Suddenly, as if nothing ever happened, Dutton backs away, sliding like the businessman he is into his swiveling leather chair behind his matching marble desk. My lungs fill with air again, adrenaline urging my body to move in hurried steps towards the elevator, just before skidding my worn combat boots against the sleek tile floors, turning to grab the pizza box then heading to my exit wanting nothing more than to smell the fresh air, eat without interruption, and wonder if that green will drain from Tides eyes when his life drains from his body.
The elevator dings. I step in.
I’m so close to him. I can almost feel his body sinking into the sand that surrounds me. You better believe I will be pulling him out his watery cave and beaching him in a six-foot pit.
“Oh, and Cordi?” My attention turns back to Dutton as the doors begin to slide closed.
“Yes, sir?”
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk and pointing one long, shaming finger at me.
“Wipe that fucking smile off your face.”