Chapter 8 Cora #3
"Talia was hiding in the bathroom because she had thrown up that morning.
She had a stomach bug. I had not known about the bug because Talia did not tell the day-staff about throw-ups; she was a kid who did not want to be a problem.
She had hidden in the bathroom to throw up the second time.
The raid hit at oh-eleven-twenty. I started the evacuation at oh-eleven-twenty-two.
I counted heads twice between oh-eleven-twenty-two and oh-eleven-twenty-six.
I missed her because the stall door was closed and I did not check the stalls.
The protocol was to check the stalls. I had been distracted by another kid who was screaming.
Saul, actually, who is one of the six we are going for.
And I had to calm Saul, and the calming took fifteen seconds, and the fifteen seconds was the fifteen seconds during which I did not check the stalls.
After Saul calmed I counted twice more. Both counts came up at fifteen.
I locked the safe-room. Drake's warriors were in the corridor by then. Talia died in the stall."
Drew was very still.
"Cora."
"Yes."
"You counted twice."
"Yes."
"After Saul, you counted twice."
"Yes."
"And the count came up fifteen both times."
"Yes."
"Twice. The count was fifteen. Both times."
"Drew."
"Cora. If the count was fifteen both times and the protocol was that the count should have been sixteen, you would have noticed the discrepancy.
You would have caught the missing one. Either the count was wrong both times, or the count was right both times and you had memorized the count as fifteen, which is what you would have memorized if Talia had been off the floor that morning, which is what she would have been if she had been throwing up before the day-staff handoff, which she was.
The count was fifteen because the count was fifteen.
There was not a sixteenth in the room you could have counted.
The sixteenth was in the bathroom. The bathroom was not on the floor.
The count was correct. The protocol was the gap.
The protocol said to check the stalls. You did not check the stalls.
You did not check the stalls because Saul was screaming and you had fifteen seconds.
The gap was the protocol's gap, not the count's gap. The count was correct."
I stopped breathing.
I sat with my back against the bumper of the lead truck and I did not breathe for ten seconds.
He said:
"Cora."
"Yes."
"I am not telling you Talia is not your fault.
I am telling you the count is not your fault.
The count was correct. The fault, if there is a fault, is in the protocol.
The protocol was the thing that should have checked the stalls.
You did not have time for the stalls. The count would have been fifteen no matter how many times you counted. The count is not what failed."
"Drew."
"I am not saying this to make you feel better.
I am saying it because you are about to lead five people into a Hess engagement in forty-eight hours and you are doing it while believing the count failed eleven years ago.
The count did not fail. You did the count right.
The thing that failed was different. It is okay to mourn the thing that failed.
The thing that failed should be mourned. But it was not the count."
He was looking at me.
The half-clinical sweep was gone. The not-saying was gone. He was looking at me the way he had looked at me on the staircase landing when I had touched his arm and said you are not the version the rain takes.
He had been preparing to say this for the entire drive from the ranger station.
I had not known.
I said:
"Drew."
"Yes."
"How long have you been thinking about this."
"Since the Albuquerque cache. Since you told me Talia's name.
I have been thinking about the count. I have been thinking about how a counter counts.
I have been thinking about what makes a counter a counter.
I have been thinking about you. I have not said anything because you said you would tell the story in Urbana and I would hold it until then.
I am sorry I am saying it now. I am saying it because I am about to be on a table and the table is a thing and I do not want you to be on the table about Talia in two days while I am on a real table about Hess.
I want you to hold the count in your hand and know the count is correct before you walk into Urbana.
The count is correct. Cora. The count is correct. "
I was crying.
I had not noticed I was crying.
I had not cried in three years. I had not cried since the night after Drake's raid when I had locked myself in the day-staff office and counted to fifteen out loud, twice, and the count had come up correct both times, and the correctness had been the thing that had broken me.
Because the correct count had meant the loss was somewhere else, and the somewhere else was the stall, and the stall was the protocol, and the protocol was the thing I had not had time for, and the not-having-time had been the thing I could not forgive.
Drew did not touch me.
He sat next to me at the back of the lead truck.
He did not look away.
He held the chipped diner mug.
He waited.
After a long time I said:
"Thank you."
He said:
"You are welcome."
I leaned my head against the truck.
I closed my eyes.
The Missouri night was quiet. The bridge was behind us. The convoy was in the camp. The team was holding. The carving was on the dashboard. The book was at his feet. The Polaroid was in my chest pocket. The mug was in his hand. The count was, Drew had just told me, correct.
The count was correct.
I had not known that.
I had been the only person in my life who had not known.
He had told me.
He had told me twelve hours after I had touched his arm. He had told me eleven years after Talia had died. He had told me on a bridge in Missouri at nine in the evening, two days before we would meet Hess at Urbana, on the side of a Ford F-250 in the dark.
I sat next to him for a long time.
I did not say anything else.
He did not say anything else.
The count was correct.
The count was correct.
The count was correct.
I slept against the bumper of the truck at some point in the night. Drew did not move. Sylvia came up at two in the morning with a blanket. She put the blanket over me. She put a second blanket over Drew. She went back to the camp.
Drew did not move.
The chipped diner mug was in his hand all night. Empty. Held.