Chapter 16 #2
“This is not a negotiation, Luciana,” she snaps.
When my bleary eyes focus on her, a real undercurrent of anguish floats beneath her stern glare.
She stands, a pistol in her bloodied hand, and peers into the trees.
“I think we lost them. The nearest hospital is about five miles from here. Too far to walk. Those soldiers must’ve arrived by vehicle—they got here fast. They probably left them back near the road.
” She gazes down at me, and then crouches in the snow.
“I am going to retrieve one of their snowmobiles and bring it to you. You stay here. Don’t move until you hear my voice.
” Taylor slaps her pistol into my hand. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me. ”
“Wait,” I call, and Taylor stops on a dime. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please.”
I’m sure I make a pathetic picture, covered in blood and snow and mud, tears tracking down my face. Taylor pauses, then hangs her head. She silently acquiesces and plops down into the snow next to me, then flips open her watch. “Okay.”
But it’s not okay.
“Eos to NWHQ.”
The watch crackles. “NWHQ here. What do you need?”
“I have a soldier down. Nonfatal bullet wound to the torso. Need an evac to the nearest medical center.”
That’s me. I’m Nonfatal Bullet Wound To The Torso, nice to meet you.
“Is the soldier stable?”
Physically? No. Mentally? No. Emotionally? Also no. But Taylor says, “Yes.”
“Current protocol states only soldiers in critical condition can request evacuation. If your soldier is stable, there is a clinic three miles northeast of your position.”
Taylor closes her eyes and breaths in deeply three times. “If I could get there, I would have gone there. Send an evac to my position immediately. That is an order, soldier. Do not make me repeat it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier replies.
“I want to see a team here ASAP. Understand?”
“Yes, Eos. Sending a team now.”
“Great. Over.”
Taylor snaps the watch closed and props her elbows on her knees. My body must be continuously pumping adrenaline, as the pain in my hip is mostly a dull roar. Or maybe it’s the drugs in the bandage. “I’m sorry.”
With great effort I sit up, ignoring the warning look on Taylor’s face. “Don’t be,” I say with a smile. “You didn’t shoot me.”
“I might as well have.” Clearly upset, she balls up the snow in her hands and uses the heat of her grip to smooth it into a ball.
“No, I fucked up. If I had done as you asked and stayed behind the tree, this never would’ve happened. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t taken you from the ballroom in the first place—”
“I’d be dead,” I interrupt sharply. “And I wouldn’t know you. Both of those seem like they’d suck a lot worse than this.”
A light snowfall, more a suggestion of snow than accumulation, falls softly over us. It would be picturesque if I hadn’t, you know, been shot.
“You are not a distraction,” Taylor says suddenly. “I’m sorry I said that. I spoke out of fear. You are not a distraction. You’re important to me. Realizing how important you are to me, how invaluable, is overwhelming.”
“Caring about someone is dangerous.”
She smiles at me. “Caring about no one is dangerous too. I should not have…done what I did in the cabin, but I also should not have been dismissive of you or your feelings. I am sure it is fairly obvious I have no experience with feelings of this nature. But it is equally true that I cannot give in to them, no matter how much I want to.”
“But you do want to?”
Taylor’s candlelight eyes burn directly into mine. “Sometimes, I don’t want to do anything else.”
With the gently falling snow and beautiful trees, this would make a lovely spot to kiss again. Unfortunately, I have a rather painful injury and we’re quite inconveniently being hunted.
“If I’d have known all I had to do was get shot and you’d be this forthcoming, I’d have taken a bullet months ago.” I reach out and touch her calf. “I forgive you.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
She raises both pale blond eyebrows. “You’ve never requested permission before. But yes, of course.”
“If we…” No, not if. Taylor won’t entertain a what-if scenario; it requires too much imagination. “When we get through this, and let’s say we come out on the other side victorious…would you give in then?”
Snow crunches on the other side of the embankment. Taylor leaps to her feet as the source of the noise approaches quickly. It’s a boy. Well, a young man. Boyishly curly brown hair frames his stern features. He’s dressed head to toe in camouflage, and holds a long rifle he’s kindly pointed at us.
“Put your weapon down, Theodore,” Taylor says calmly. “My name is Taylor. I am with the Order of Prometheus. We are expecting backup, and if they see my life being threatened, they will kill you.”
Eyes widening, I get to my feet behind Taylor. The boy grips his rifle, and as he crosses the dried creek bed, it becomes obvious he’s been crying. Theodore shakes his head, sweat whipping from his messy brown hair.
“I will not.” He’s trembling with either rage or fear, it’s hard to tell. He sucks in air through his nose, chest panting. “Did you kill my parents?”
“Put the rifle down. Are you alone?”
His voice, not yet matured into a man’s bass, breaks. “Did you kill my parents?”
“Yes. Are you alone, Theodore?” Taylor asks, her voice steady.
Wheels spinning behind his crazed brown eyes, he starts muttering and nodding to himself. “Yeah. Your grenade killed the Jacks, but I got away. I’m supposed to go back to the house if there’s trouble, but I knew where those shots came from.”
“They will come looking for you,” Taylor says. “As my soldiers are coming for me. You do not have a lot of time. If you want to shoot me, you have to do it now.”
The young man’s slight frame shakes. “I—why did you kill my mom and dad?”
“Because that was the order I was given,” she replies.
“By who?” He gestures his rifle at me. “Her?”
“No. She is a soldier.”
I’m you, I think, and you’re me. You’re doing what I should’ve done. I should’ve fought. Theodore adjusts his grip, muscles rigid with rage. “Is not. That’s Luciana Piccolo.”
“Theodore, I don’t want to kill you.” A surprising gentleness belies Taylor’s threat. “Your brothers and sisters are already in our custody. They are safe, and you will be too.”
I can’t tell if she’s lying or not. It doesn’t appear Theodore can either, as he seethes through his teeth. “Why should I believe you?”
Taylor raises her hands. “I am not armed, Theodore. You can put your rifle down.” She pauses, keeping her eyes focused on the teenager. “Your siblings need you. Don’t do anything reckless.”
“They said you got kidnapped, but look at you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Dressed in their colors, marching with their soldier. Traitor.”
“Maybe,” I reply. “I’m trying to survive, Junior. You should be too.”
“Shut up. You don’t get to tell me what to do. What I should do is kill you both. Save Leader Piccolo the embarrassment.” He despises me, clearly, but he also pities me.
“Your desire for vengeance is natural, but it is also very stupid.” Leave it to Taylor to insult the person aiming a cocked rifle at her face. “I am the one who arranged the safety of your siblings. They live on my word. If I’m dead, there is no guarantee they live past the hour.”
He tightens his jaw and fidgets. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
Even from behind I can tell Taylor is exasperated. “You don’t. But if you put the rifle down, I will try to make contact with the headquarters currently housing your siblings. Think calmly about how you would like to proceed. I don’t want to see innocent people die.”
“Nobody innocent is going to die.” He aims at her head and wraps his finger around the trigger. “Just you.”
I want to say I am not thinking. I want to say I am outside myself.
But I’m not. I’m Luciana Piccolo, heir to the Northeast Region, and I raise my pistol and shoot a boy.
The bullet strikes him in the shoulder and he stumbles back, then falls into the snow.
Taylor relieves him of his rifle and aims it at his writhing figure.
Crimson blood soaks through the white crystals, and I’m suddenly reminded of Faith in her white dress and my stomach violently churns.
An engine roars from within the trees and tires slosh through snow. “Evac!”
The shouts come from over our heads. Taylor takes the pistol from my hand and slips it back into her holster. “If they ask, I shot him.” She squeezes my forearm. “Down here!”
Two medics stagger down the slope with a board.
“I can get up the hill.” I wave off their attempts to board me.
With their support, I climb up the embankment and step into the ambulance.
It’s less an ambulance and more like being inside a lunchbox: chrome walls and ripped seats, equipment banging around in each corner.
“What about the kid?” The medic points at Theodore.
Taylor shakes her head. “He’s not Order. I’m radioing Jacks to come get him.”
The other medic shrugs. “Okay.”
But it’s not okay.
Murky gray light spills onto the floor like poured concrete.
It doesn’t take long for the light to reach my bed, as the whole recuperation room is no bigger than ten by ten.
Taylor sits slumped forward in a chair, her torso sprawled over my legs, as she’s done the last three nights while I convalesce.
Starting today, I’ve been cleared to resume light activities.
Once Taylor is awake, we’ll get our instructions for the Southeast. And so, I do not wake her but enjoy the silence and the company, for as long as I can have it.
A knock on the door rips Taylor from her sleep fast as lightning, and she brandishes a weapon toward the door. My nurse peeks in, decked out in the Order’s olive green, and puts her hands up. “It’s me.”
Taylor holsters her gun and massages her temple. “Right, sorry. Soldier’s reflex.”