13 Roman
Roman
“The only reason you were assigned to this mission is that the councilwoman requested you by name.” Colonel Williams seethed, his cheeks red under his mustache, as I stood at attention in front of his desk.
“But if you can’t handle this duty, I have no problem throwing you back to candidate school for some reformation. ”
“I understand, Colonel.” I stared straight ahead, keeping my stance controlled, giving nothing away.
Like the fact that I hated this fat asshole.
If he thought threatening me with a demotion and schoolyard duty was enough to make me quiver in my boots, he had another think coming.
Unlike him and his pampered career bought by daddy’s money, I’d actually worked my way up the enlisted ranks the past seven years before being commissioned as an officer.
But a niggling voice told me we weren’t so different after all. Hadn’t I accepted the councilwoman’s help to get into officer candidate school?
My reasoning may have been different for putting on these collar devices and new uniform, but we were both in the same chain of command.
And he was still my commanding officer.
“I won’t make another mistake,” I said, even though I’d followed protocol exactly and I’d told the councilwoman—told the colonel—that all this was a bad idea from the beginning.
I guessed it didn’t matter how high up the ranks I made it, I’d still be a nameless no one from the lower levels that nobody listened to.
“I don’t care what the councilwoman says, keep that mutant off the streets and out of the public eye so we don’t start a riot,” he said.
“They think science controls this city and will protect them from these god creatures? They forget it’s the iron fist that keeps this wheel turning.
You’d do best to remember that, soldier. ”
“Aye, Colonel.” My teeth were grinding together as I nodded, unable to say anything else as I watched what I was sure was a sinking ship.
I knew the stories. Knew exactly what we’d face when the gods decided to grace us with their presence again. And I knew how ill-equipped our society was to handle it.
How are you supposed to watch the world fall apart, knowing you’re powerless to stop it, while still showing up to work each day?
“Get out of my sight,” Colonel Williams spat.
“Yes sir.” I clenched my jaw as I about-faced.
My anger was a raging current, white-hot and electric as it pulsed against my skin while I marched down the halls.
I stopped in my quarters to change and grab earbuds.
This place was nothing like the enlisted barracks, where sometimes four of us would be crammed into a room.
Officers got their own quarters with full bedroom furniture and sitting spaces.
Mine was sterile and devoid of personal touches, like many of the other rooms.
Most officers didn’t even stay at their assigned quarters, preferring to live out in town with their families. Science knew they had the money to do it.
Money was why I’d accepted this promotion in the first place, and I wasn’t going to waste it on housing when I had a bed assigned to me.
Even if the bed was a cold one.
Outside the barracks, I put in my earbuds and started to run. Rock music blasted through the speakers in my ears as I raced through the city, heading to the arterial and life-bringing pathways.
The real heart of the city was in the alleys.
I could run the designated sidewalks and head to the community gardens like most runners, but I didn’t run for pleasure. I ran to release steam. To keep in shape for my demanding job. And to remind myself why I was doing this.
If I spent too long in the ivory towers, I forgot what I needed to remember.
The rain made the evening humid and miserable. I could only imagine the panic the weather forecasters were in right now.
At least the rain dampened the smell.
Trash compactors overflowed with the day’s waste waiting to be carted away. Some of the more crafty folks in the Fringes would be able to salvage something from the food thrown out.
The servers—the ones I ran past that hung out in doorways of the back alleys hitting their smoke of choice before the next long shift—wouldn’t eat half as good as these dumpsters did.
I ran faster, forcing my heart to match the raging tempo of the music as my sneakers ate up the worn back streets. None of the buildings on this side had windows. Why would they? Who wanted to look at the mess they tossed away?
The rain continued its brutal assault on the city, washing the dirt under my feet and plastering my shirt to my skin, and blurring my vision.
I pumped my legs harder, making my lungs burn.
The colonel’s words kept playing over and over in my mind. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. The staged proposal, that Justus had finally grown big enough balls to do right, was exactly what the council wanted, despite me telling them it was a bad idea.
At the heart of all this was Meg. That woman didn’t deserve the flak she was getting. I knew how she’d be treated in the city and knew the threat of parading an outsider around, especially a wolf shifter.
She was sacrificing so much for people who’d gladly throw her away too.
Panting, I came to an abrupt stop, and placed my hands on my knees.
I had no business thinking of Meg like I was doing. She wasn’t mine. The more time I spent around her, the harder it was to watch her martyr herself. The best thing I could do was stay away.
Maybe the colonel was right. I should ask for another assignment. It wasn’t fair to Justus or Helen if I kept getting distracted by the woman supposed to marry into their family.
I just wished they’d understand that this wasn’t the answer. If they knew anything about the gods and their stories, they’d know that the gods loved chaos and destruction. It made no sense for them to willingly stay asleep.
I didn’t know the right answer—I was only a dumb soldier according to everyone—but I did know someone that might have an idea on how to handle this.
Too bad it was years too late.
The irony of it all made me laugh when I realized where I’d stopped. If I was looking for a reminder of why I did what I did, I couldn’t have come to a better place.
It’d been weeks since I climbed these steps.
“Roman, nice to see you again.” Sally, the charge nurse, smiled up from her clipboard. “Today is a good day if you want to go in and visit him.”
“Has he…” My voice trailed off.
How many times had I asked the same question over the years?
Sally gave me a tight smile. “No measurable brain wave changes in the past few weeks. The doctors are working on some new tests to see what they can improve, but the best thing is always to keep talking to him. We have AI companions that make the rounds daily, but it’s not the same.”
I let the guilt of what she said punch me straight in the chest, knowing I deserved it. I never was much of a talker. Not like him.
My damp sneakers echoing down the quiet halls and the beeps of the other machines were the only sounds of life on the ward.
I paused outside Room 224, having been here so many times over the years that I didn’t need help in finding it, and took a steadying breath.
For a moment, I let myself remember him as he once was. His big-chested laughter. The stories he told back when I thought he was larger than even Superman. Before the stroke, the day his massive heart and curious brain had given out after pushing himself so hard at work.
I pressed open the door without knocking. He wouldn’t hear me anyway.
Tubes and cords and machines.
Science kept him alive as the doctors meticulously rebuilt his brain. It was a treatment I couldn’t afford in a thousand lifetimes. One I put on this uniform and did my duty for, trying to pay her back every day.
My smile was strained as I sat in the chair and gathered his leathered, shrunken hand in mine. “Hey, Dad. How about a story?”