Page 156 of Coldwire
There’s something about being hugged in the real that feels different, the faint scent of shampoo that virtual never generated, some twinge of pressure at the elbow that Miz presses particularly hard on, some warm feeling in my chest. I say, “I’m here, I’m here,” and Miz is crying.
“You’re so ridiculous,” she says between gasps. “You couldn’t have known we’d be able to bring you back! You couldn’t have known it would work!”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry. I had to. That was the only way I could escape them.”
Miz takes a shaky breath. When she pulls back, she nods resolutely, even while tears continue streaming down her face. Her eyes flicker to the side, bringing Kieren in.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she says, and it sounds more like she’s trying to speak it into existence than reassure me of our current state. “We got you back. We’re going to get Hailey back. We’ll be okay.”
Miz squeezes me hard again, and my arms delay a beat before I wrap them around her properly. I don’t know what I did to Hailey. But I’ll get her back. I’ll find her if I have to tear apart the entirety of upcountry to do it.
“It worked?”
It’s Blare who pokes their head through the other end of the hallway this time, two sets of glasses stacked atop their hair. They amble over casually, hands tucked in their pockets without a care in the world.
“It worked,” Kieren answers. He pushes us into the hallway. His hands land on my shoulders, and I lean into it entirely, glad to be guided. “Come on. Let’s step inside.”
I offer Miz my sleeve to wipe her tears. She chokes out a laugh.
The clock turns to ten thirty.
I trace the rim of my empty cup, my eyes flickering away from the digital display on the oven. The full moon streams in from the window, taking away any need to find an overhead light in the kitchen. Call it lingering trauma, but I made sure to lift the window earlier, wiggling my finger out and ensuring I was meeting night air rather than a screen. Definitely night air.
I used the handheld on the kitchen counter to look up our current location, too. This house is the last one on a residential street at the edge of Offron. There aren’t many residential areas in Offron: most civilian streets are surrounded by military outposts. I stepped outside before to speak with the soldiers standing guard around the perimeter. We’re only supposed to be here for a day before Medaluo sends word for a debrief. That’s when Miz, Blare, and I have to give them an answer on whether we’re willing to work for them—though the soldiers are already talking to me as though the answer is yes, as though we’re on the same side. I guess if I were to turn down the offer, they likely have instructions to shoot me, so it doesn’t matter what they reveal. They were even willing to let me rummage through their weapons supply when I asked, just to check how safe we were in the event of danger.
“Lia.”
I jump, my teacup spinning out of my grip. Kieren dives into action, grabbing it before it can teeter off the counter and smash onto the floor. Miz and Blare have gone to sleep. Kieren’s the only one still walking about the house too.
He’s already agreed to the Medans’ offer.
“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no,” I assure him. “It’s my fault. I was zoned out.”
He pushes the empty cup back at me. The kettle has been filled with water, but I haven’t turned on the stove. It only sits on the burner, idle. Kieren must notice that’s where my attention lands when I clutch the cupagain, and a small crinkle appears in his brow. I can’t quite get used to the new arrangement of his face. He was always fine to look at upcountry, in that vague, unremarkable way.
He’s very distinctive now. It makes me a little nervous to make direct eye contact with him, which feels ridiculous. If there’s anything to be nervous about, it should be how we left off with each other at the end of our posting.
“Do you want me to turn the stove on?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
He turns the knob. The burner begins to heat up, reddening at the edges first.
Neither of us says anything for a moment.
“Lia,” Kieren prompts. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I know for a fact that a safe house must be bugged with listening capabilities. The Medan government wants everything. Nothing is too small to be parsed through.
“It’s been a lot to digest,” I say. “The past year catching up to me at once, and all that.”
“I’m sure. It would have been nicer if we weren’t immediately hauled in the moment you were merged, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
My lip quirks. Typical of Kieren to complain when he isn’t actually mad.
“Hauled in by your new employers, no less,” I say delicately. “What’s that about?”
