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Authors: Tobias S. Buckell
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bit her lip for a long moment. “This might sound weird, but, did you know the doctors and nurses in the room?”
“That…” Jenny also paused. “Are you okay, Anika?”
“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I know it’s weird to ask you. I know you volunteer there sometimes.”
“Yes, I knew them all. They all took it very hard.” Jenny lapsed into quiet crying again.
“I’m so sorry,” Anika said. “Listen, Jenny, someone tried to run me off the road and kill me. I don’t know who, or why, but I think it has something to do with why Tom and I were shot at. I promise you, I’m going to figure out who did this to us, and I swear I’m going to make them pay. Somehow.”
“Oh God, Anika, just be safe. Be safe. I don’t want any more people to die. I don’t think I can handle that.”
“I’ll be okay,” Anika promised, before she hung up. “Don’t worry about me.”
Tom hadn’t been murdered in the hospital. That was a small relief. But the men who’d arranged all this had something to do with the attack on their airship, and that had ultimately killed him. They were still responsible.
Anika took a deep breath and limped her way around the rocks she’d used as cover back down to the road.
Karl’s bike lay upside down, front wheel mangled, the frame bent.
For some reason that left her feeling helpless and broken. Karl had always been good about lending the damn thing to her whenever she let her car lose its charge. She almost depended on the damn thing.
Nothing she took for granted as stable in her life even existed anymore. The bike: mangled. Tom: dead. Jenny: broken. Michel: maybe involved in trying to kill her.
In a short few days, everything had just been yanked away from her. The entire life she had built. Like it didn’t even matter.
And for what?
Some goddamned nuclear waste?
Now that she wasn’t distracted by fighting for her life she started shaking from delayed fear. She leaned over a boulder and threw up. Bright fruit juice and rum splattered against gray rock.
She’d never drink a Belladonna again, she thought, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of the torn-up jacket.
Leaning against another rock to steady herself, she considered dialing emergency services, then decided to call Karl and apologize for the bike.
It was something she had to do, she felt.
“Karl? Karl, it’s Anika.”
There was a long silence on the other side. She guessed he was waking up, slow to understand what was going on. It was three in the morning, after all.
But then Karl exploded. “Jesus, Anika, Jesus, there are people over at your place ripping it apart.”
Anika slid down into a crouch against the boulder. “What?” she whispered. “Tom?”
“They say they’re UNPG MPs and that you’re in some sort of trouble,” Karl said. “Please, let me hear you say it’s bullshit.”
“It’s bullshit,” she repeated numbly.
“I figured. They’re being tight-lipped and following orders from somewhere else. I don’t know the details. The commander wants to talk to you. They got here fifteen minutes ago. Where the hell are you anyway? I didn’t tell them you were on my bike. Probably not smart, but, shit.”
“The bike,” she said, looking across the ground at it. “Karl, I’m really sorry about the bike. Someone just tried to run me over.”
“Run you over? Forget it,” he said. “We can fix it later. Where are you?”
Anika pulled the phone away and looked at it. Was it too paranoid to assume they were being listened to? Or just paranoid enough? She put the phone back to her ear.
“That rope braid on your keychain?” Anika said.
“Yeah?”
“It saved my life. Thank you.” She ended the call. If her commander was caught up in this, or someone in the UNPG was out for her, going back to her place or reporting in for duty was off the list of options.
She groaned as she stood up, steadied herself, and then staggered toward the BMW. The driver’s side door was still open, light
“That…” Jenny also paused. “Are you okay, Anika?”
“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I know it’s weird to ask you. I know you volunteer there sometimes.”
“Yes, I knew them all. They all took it very hard.” Jenny lapsed into quiet crying again.
“I’m so sorry,” Anika said. “Listen, Jenny, someone tried to run me off the road and kill me. I don’t know who, or why, but I think it has something to do with why Tom and I were shot at. I promise you, I’m going to figure out who did this to us, and I swear I’m going to make them pay. Somehow.”
“Oh God, Anika, just be safe. Be safe. I don’t want any more people to die. I don’t think I can handle that.”
“I’ll be okay,” Anika promised, before she hung up. “Don’t worry about me.”
Tom hadn’t been murdered in the hospital. That was a small relief. But the men who’d arranged all this had something to do with the attack on their airship, and that had ultimately killed him. They were still responsible.
Anika took a deep breath and limped her way around the rocks she’d used as cover back down to the road.
Karl’s bike lay upside down, front wheel mangled, the frame bent.
For some reason that left her feeling helpless and broken. Karl had always been good about lending the damn thing to her whenever she let her car lose its charge. She almost depended on the damn thing.
Nothing she took for granted as stable in her life even existed anymore. The bike: mangled. Tom: dead. Jenny: broken. Michel: maybe involved in trying to kill her.
In a short few days, everything had just been yanked away from her. The entire life she had built. Like it didn’t even matter.
And for what?
Some goddamned nuclear waste?
Now that she wasn’t distracted by fighting for her life she started shaking from delayed fear. She leaned over a boulder and threw up. Bright fruit juice and rum splattered against gray rock.
She’d never drink a Belladonna again, she thought, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of the torn-up jacket.
Leaning against another rock to steady herself, she considered dialing emergency services, then decided to call Karl and apologize for the bike.
It was something she had to do, she felt.
“Karl? Karl, it’s Anika.”
There was a long silence on the other side. She guessed he was waking up, slow to understand what was going on. It was three in the morning, after all.
But then Karl exploded. “Jesus, Anika, Jesus, there are people over at your place ripping it apart.”
Anika slid down into a crouch against the boulder. “What?” she whispered. “Tom?”
“They say they’re UNPG MPs and that you’re in some sort of trouble,” Karl said. “Please, let me hear you say it’s bullshit.”
“It’s bullshit,” she repeated numbly.
“I figured. They’re being tight-lipped and following orders from somewhere else. I don’t know the details. The commander wants to talk to you. They got here fifteen minutes ago. Where the hell are you anyway? I didn’t tell them you were on my bike. Probably not smart, but, shit.”
“The bike,” she said, looking across the ground at it. “Karl, I’m really sorry about the bike. Someone just tried to run me over.”
“Run you over? Forget it,” he said. “We can fix it later. Where are you?”
Anika pulled the phone away and looked at it. Was it too paranoid to assume they were being listened to? Or just paranoid enough? She put the phone back to her ear.
“That rope braid on your keychain?” Anika said.
“Yeah?”
“It saved my life. Thank you.” She ended the call. If her commander was caught up in this, or someone in the UNPG was out for her, going back to her place or reporting in for duty was off the list of options.
She groaned as she stood up, steadied herself, and then staggered toward the BMW. The driver’s side door was still open, light
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