Phoenix (9 page)

Jack pulled the keychain out of his pocket and she yanked it from his hand, her fingernails scratching against his palm. How desperate and doleful was he to be grateful for that small amount of physical contact? She removed her key and lobbed the keychain back at him.

He shoved it in his pocket and the words came spilling out. “You’re the only one I can talk to about them. No one else understands. I can’t – please, Caroline. Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you about them.”

Jack reached toward her and she recoiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have had the key in the first place.”

“Stop being sorry. Get out.” She backed toward the living room.

Was she that horrified at the idea of being alone in a bedroom with him? He quickly followed. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Caroline grabbed at the edges of her sweater. “I’m fine.”

She was about to lose control and didn’t want to do it in front of him. Now was the time to leave the battle for another day, but Jack couldn’t help himself. He stepped closer to her. “You weren’t fine last night and you’re not fine now. Please let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” She paced across the living room, wringing her hands. “I want you to leave.”

Respect her wishes. Let her be.
“Please, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.” Her voice was rising.

His subconscious could throw all the logic it wanted at him. He dodged it and dug in. “I can help. We can help each other. I have pictures. We can share memories. We can handle our grief together.”

“Stop
talking
about them.”

She didn’t want him around her. But who else could he tell? His other confidant was his fucking therapist, not his wife. There was no comparison. “I miss them.” He swallowed back his tears. “I miss our children.”

“They’re not yours!” she shrieked. “They were never yours.”

She may as well have stabbed him in the gut. It would have hurt less.

She’s grieving. She’s ill. She’s upset. It’s not you, it’s her.

Jesus, what a fucking joke of a line. Of course it was him. It would always be him. Jack stared at his feet before bringing his eyes to hers, searching for the psychological injuries he couldn’t see. If she bore the scars she hid them well. No doubt she’d had practice. She knew exactly what she’d done, standing there like a goddamn prizefighter emerging victorious over her opponent by felling him with an effective blow.

They’d had their fair share of arguments. Said nasty things to each other in anger. Verbally wounded each other, sometimes intentionally. But both of them always had the good sense to feel badly about it immediately afterward. Her demeanor made him sick.

His gaze drifted toward her bruised cheek. Toward the splint on her nose. He could break her down, get her to feel again. He knew he could. She couldn’t possibly be that far gone.

Caroline brought her arms around herself and bit down on her lip. To her credit, she averted her eyes once she saw the look on his face, and her cheeks flushed. At least she still knew how to feel shame when she’d hurt him. Jack headed toward the door. Her small concession didn’t make him feel nearly as good as he hoped it would. He was still leaving a loser.

“Well done, Caroline,” he said. “Your tongue was always as vicious as it was sweet. Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch. Don’t worry about me invading your personal space again. I’ll show myself out.”

Caroline and her crew had another more comprehensive orientation the next day. Jack was conspicuously absent. She hoped he’d learned to keep his distance, though she did feel guilty about yelling at him.

But there would be no apologies. Not when she had a damn good reason to be angry. And if he didn’t know why she was upset, it demonstrated how worthy a target he truly was. Better to avoid him to make sure that any negative interactions could be kept to a minimum.

It had been so easy to stab with barely any remorse. She was hard pressed to find a reason not to do it again. Not when it proved so effective at keeping him away. Alone. She had to be alone. Even if it meant keeping emotional distance from the guys or if it compromised her ability to form relationships with other soldiers. Isolation was the only way to ensure her survival.

The majors seemed much more willing to answer their questions when their commander wasn’t in the room. An interesting balance of power. Caroline and her friends were given dog tags with their fake names, as well as training manuals, though their instructors were skimpy on the details. She was able to discern that there were only a few hundred rebels on their portion of the base; the California Republican Army occupied the bulk of the facilities. Each individual member of the rebellion received a small stipend every month, with uniforms, food, and personal items provided at no cost through the commissary.

The rebellion’s activities were kept as secret as possible. Much of their time was spent on developing intelligence, military-style training, or the rare guerrilla enterprise. International support had been slow to come and the main players decided it was best to wait until the chips fell in a manner that made a larger scale invasion or other tactical maneuver more practical.

They had loads of rules. Rules about leaving the base, for how long, and for what purpose. Rules about contact with outsiders or travel outside California. Rules about what clothes to wear, what hairstyles were allowed, what uniforms were proper for which occasion. Rules about water consumption and cell phone usage.

There were timers on the showers. Caroline was surprised she hadn’t set hers off the morning before; she would have to get used to limiting herself. The professional corps got to wear street clothes if they wanted but the rest of the soldiers wore BDUs most of the time. Only specially assigned personnel wore dress uniforms, including Jack’s advisors. How lucky for them. So many annoying procedures to learn and follow, and barely any details about the reason they were all there in the first place.

Their training would start the next week to allow for additional members to join the class. Caroline got the impression that the odds of that happening weren’t high. If the rebellion only numbered in the hundreds and had been in existence for over a year, recruitment wasn’t high on the list of priorities.

All in all, the meeting was quite disheartening. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, but she had expected more. Especially since Santos had spent the last twelve months engaging in conduct that should have made more people want to rectify the situation. Maybe she’d set her expectations too high.

But she wasn’t going to focus on that. Major Flaherty had given her permission to go to the range that afternoon and she would take what she could get before he and the other trainers started kicking her ass. She headed over to the cafeteria for lunch after she got her supplies and uniforms and was just about to leave when Dr. Haddad plunked a tray down next to her.

“Hi,” Natalie said.

Great. Was Caroline her special project? She tried not to sigh. “I was about to head out,” she said.

Natalie picked up a fork. “You’ve got plenty of food left. Stick around a few minutes. You don’t have much else to do.”

I could sleep, or stare at the wall, or do anything except be social.
“I was going to head to the range,” Caroline said. “I was told we were allowed to do that.”

“You are. But you gotta eat too.” Natalie pointed at the jello on Caroline’s tray. “Eat that.”

Damn it. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to gain some weight.”

Ah, the ulterior motive. It was easier to placate than to argue. Maybe if she ate a few bites this woman would leave her the hell alone. And she could use the opportunity to ask questions that the majors hadn’t wanted to answer. Caroline shoved a spoonful into her mouth. “Mmm,” she said. “Yummy red goo.”

Natalie smiled slightly. “Your sarcasm is noted. How’s your head feel?”

“It’s all right.”

“Any dizzy spells?”

Was this a medical consultation? “No. It’s been fine.”

Natalie drizzled dressing on her salad. “Good.” She glanced around the cafeteria. “Well, this place is almost empty. Ask me whatever you want.”

Not only was the doctor sneaky but she was also a mind reader. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve had your orientation, right? I’m sure you have loads of questions those overinflated officers won’t answer. Ask me instead. I don’t know much but I can try to answer them.”

Okay, fine. She’d start off with the harder shit just to see if Natalie was as agreeable as she sounded. “How is this thing being funded?” Caroline asked.

Natalie looked surprised. “They didn’t tell you?”

Caroline took another bite of jello. “They weren’t too keen to share that information this morning.”

Natalie twirled her fork in her hand. “Some money was funneled to us by the California Republic. As you know, we have our own facilities but are essentially shielded by the army. Some supplies and other necessities are provided through them as well. For the commissary, the cafeteria, and our weapons and other equipment. Things are tight but we make it work. I don’t think any of us are here to live like kings.”

Caroline snorted. “Jack probably is.”

Natalie put the fork down. “From what I understand, Jack refuses a salary and only uses an account at the commissary for personal necessities.”

“Then how does he provide for himself?”

“What is there to provide? We’re on a military base. Everything we need is here. And if we want more than that, we don’t belong here. This place isn’t for sissies.”

Caroline took a sip of tea. She wondered whether Jack missed all the niceties. If he was putting on an act of faux sacrifice for show. She was more than happy to cast aspersions on a man who wasn’t there to defend himself. “He has money stashed somewhere,” she said casually.

Natalie frowned at her. “What are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just saying he’s not poor.”

“You know, Caroline. You could talk to the commander about all of the things you want to know that those high ranking officers won’t tell you. There’s nothing stopping you.”

“There’s plenty stopping me.”

“Like what?”

My common sense
. “I’ve made it clear to him that I’m just another soldier.”

“Really?”

Why were her determined declarations so often met with skepticism? “Don’t act so surprised,” Caroline said.

“I was hoping you’d moved beyond whatever happened at the hospital.”

Had she been eavesdropping or did the young doctor have the commander’s ear? Neither prospect would surprise her. “Nope.”

“Maybe you should consider it.”

Caroline resisted the petulant urge to shake her head and took a bite of jello instead. “Not going to happen.”

“It looks odd,” Natalie said quietly.

“What does?”

“That you aren’t together.”

No matter how big or small the rebellion, all eyes had to be on the two of them. She was no fool. A tiny base meant rumors aplenty. Caroline reddened. “I couldn’t care less what people think of me.”

“I think you do.”

Fuck this doctor and her perceptiveness. And her entirely too steely gaze. “I don’t.”

“Sometimes people who love each other get so caught up in the minutia that they forget why they were together in the first place. Why they belong with each other.”

Dr. Haddad had read her poetry anthology that morning. “That’s deep,” Caroline said. “You’re quite insightful for someone so young.”

Natalie smiled. “I threw that together on the fly.”

The good doctor had missed Caroline’s sarcasm. Unless she was choosing to ignore it. “I don’t need your insight.”

“‘Life is about more than wins and losses. It’s about relationships. Love. The knowledge that it’s more important to maintain those ties with one another than to do anything to risk the precious bonds that bring us together.’”

“Oh, that’s nice.” This time Caroline’s response left no room for misinterpretation. “Who said that?”

Natalie blushed. “You did.”

“I – what?”

“You said it during that speech I saw you give.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“You did,” Natalie said. “I wrote it down.”

“I was giving a speech about political support. I wasn’t writing a greeting card.”

“It was profound. It was more than a political speech. It was an ode to the friend you were supporting.”

The friend who was gone because of her. Why had Natalie chosen to go in that direction? Caroline hastily put her cup and silverware back onto her tray. “I need to go,” she whispered.

Natalie reached across the table. “Caroline, wait-”

What was she going to do? Offer a hug? Fuck that. Every minute Caroline spent with someone in this place led her to dark wounds she was trying to let scab over. Seclusion sounded like the most pleasant alternative. “I’m sorry,” she said, and marched over to the garbage cans without another word.

*              *              *              *              *

She debated whether to go back to her apartment. But she was going nuts doing nothing. Being by herself would force her to dwell on the growing unease she felt about the rebellion. She thought about checking on the guys, seeing if they wanted to join her at the range, but they needed some space of their own. She missed being thrown into cramped quarters with them. Even if she practiced self-isolation, she’d have to make a point to spend time with them. Soon they’d be going through the same training program and would be suffering together.

Caroline relished a distraction from the dull ache in her cheek and the annoying, itchy bandage on her nose. And the opportunity to get her feet wet with a weapon before the hard work started. Maybe she’d give her target to Major Flaherty after she was finished.

The soldier behind the desk at the range looked pleasant enough. He was filling out some paperwork, oblivious to her entry.  She cleared her throat and he brought his head up with a smile, which faded when he saw her face. Like she’d never gotten that reaction before.

“I’d like to shoot,” she said.

He gave her the once over. “Got your papers?”

Caroline pulled the slip out of her back pocket. Everything needed authorization in this place, especially if you weren’t anyone of importance. And she didn’t have any standing to make any demands. Not yet.

The soldier blanched when he saw her name. They were registered under aliases but their real names appeared on all internal documentation. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess you don’t need them.”

“Of course I do,” she said, trying not to snap. “I haven’t even started training yet.”

The soldier raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. She scanned the front of his uniform.

“Look, Maier,” Caroline said. “I don’t want special treatment. I just want to shoot. And maybe blow shit up, if that’s an option here.”

He smiled. “You’ll have to wait until you’re out in the field before you do that. Any particular weapon you have in mind?”

A Glock or a Sig would be easy. Comfortable. Familiar. But that wasn’t what Caroline wanted. “Got any Desert Eagles floating around?” she asked. “The higher caliber, the better.”

“You sure?”

Another skeptic. He’d learn too. “I’m stronger than I look.”

He turned his back to her, rummaging around in the cabinets. “That gun’s got some recoil. I don’t even like shooting it.”

“Gotta be prepared for anything,” Caroline said.

Maier pulled a large handgun out of one of the bottom cabinets behind his desk, along with a box of .50 caliber ammunition. He laid it down in front of her. “You know how to handle this shit?”

She grinned at him. “I probably know more about guns than you do.”

He grinned back. Hadn’t taken long for him to loosen up. “I doubt it.”

Caroline loaded the magazine. “Come shoot with me and find out.”

“These guns are hard to find,” he said. “We take what we can get around here but Desert Eagles are rare. I wouldn’t even have this one if-”

She felt like the main attraction at the local zoo. All this curiosity was getting real old, real quick. “If what, Sergeant?”

Maier cleared his throat. “The commander brought this in the other day. Something about relieving a soldier of his weapon after he used it for something other than its intended purpose.”

Did everyone know what had happened? Caroline knew the place wasn’t big but it really was a gossip haven. Such constant yammering would make her life extremely tiring. She ran her fingers along the butt of the gun, remembering how she’d been blindsided with it. There was no way she wanted to shoot with anything else.