Undefeated, page 18
My phone pings in my bag as we get our trays, and I shift the small duffel around so I can grab it out of the side pocket. It’s a message from Robert. I swipe it open.
Just wanted to make sure you made it back safely.
I quickly type out a response and put it back in my bag. It pings again, but I ignore it until we’ve gotten our food and settled at a table near the large windows—we have a spectacular view out over the ocean. It’s a sunny day with just a few wispy clouds in the sky. But the wind has picked up since we landed and white caps crest the waves.
I settle down in front of my plate of pasta and pull out my phone again.
I miss you.
My lips tighten at the message. “What?” Merl asks.
“My husband misses me.” I draw out the word husband into something ridiculous.
“Isn’t that normal?” Merl asks with a smile before taking a sip of his iced tea.
“I guess,” I say, putting my phone back in my bag and concentrating on the pasta at hand.
“You two are an odd match, but I guess it makes sense.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Well, clearly the marriage is one of convenience, not just love,” Merl says. “You need the protection and he needed to control you.”
“You think he controls me?” I ask even though my mouth is full because the question cannot wait.
Merl shakes his head. “No one controls you, Sydney.” He grins. “Not even you.”
“Harumph,” I say, twirling myself another bite.
“It will be fun to watch you deal with a baby.”
“Deal with?” I ask with a laugh. “Is that what you do with kids?”
“You certainly can’t control them,” Merl points out. “That seems to backfire.”
“What do you know about parenting?” I ask.
“I had two good ones,” he says. “They did their best to let me find my own path—setting boundaries rather than exerting control.”
“Boundaries,” I say. “Never learned about those in school.”
Merl laughs. “No, most people don’t. But I think it’s something good parents teach you. How to know yourself, what you can accept, and how to hold your truth lightly enough that it stays a guiding light, rather than a blinding one.”
“Did you ever think about becoming a poet?” I ask.
“Martial arts are poetry for the body, don’t you think?”
“Hmm,” I say. “I see what you’re saying. Poetry takes complex ideas and impossible-to-describe feelings or experiences and turns them into something expressible. In a way poetry harnesses language, as martial arts does our bodies.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
His gazes tracks to the door and he lifts his hand to wave at someone. I turn to see Dan in a wheelchair, his leg extended straight. He waves back and starts our way. Merl moves one of the chairs at our table aside and Dan pulls up.
“Good to see you up and about,” I say.
“Good to be up and about. I’m seeing Dr. Guilder later today. She’ll let me know when I can start using crutches.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, still a lot of healing to do but I’m hoping to be competent on my crutches by the end of next month.”
“For the big crypto meeting,” I say, nodding as if I now understand crypto, the blockchain, and all things interweb-related.
Dan smiles at me like he knows I still have no idea what I’m talking about. “Speaking of which, what did Robert say?”
I nod, putting down my fork to resist the temptation to put more pasta in my mouth. “He says he’s covering his bases. That once I burn it all down he wants to be ready. Wants to stay rich—and therefore powerful. He said it’s basically diversifying his portfolio.”
Dan’s eyes narrow as if he believes there is more to the story. Me too. Does he really think that my poorly articulated desire to fundamentally change society will have such world-wide impact that all his existing investments will lose their value? And that crypto will somehow be unaffected?
If we hadn’t been so busy not getting killed, I would have pressed him more. Pressed him is probably the wrong way to put that. My mind flashes to his fingers on my bare skin. No. Stop! I clear my throat and keep talking, trying to force the images from my mind.
“Robert says he is willing to help me burn down society but plans to stay rich during the process. I did not mention to him our crypto meeting about ending money in general.” I did kiss him naked in the water though. My cheeks heat from the vivid memories and Dan’s eyes narrow.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say, taking a breath as both men look at me like clearly there is something. “Nothing to do with what we are talking about. Just.” I clear my throat. “Something personal happened.”
Both men quickly find other things to look at and new topics to discuss. “Want me to get you some food?” I offer Dan.
“Thanks,” he says, glancing at my now empty plate. “I guess the pasta was good.”
I laugh as I stand. “I’ll get you some.”
When I come back a few minutes later, Rebecca has joined them at the table with another woman I don’t recognize. “Thanks,” Dan says as I slide his tray in front of him.
“Hey,” I say to Rebecca. She smiles back.
“Have you met Selena Hernandez?” she asks, gesturing to her friend, a woman in her fifties with light brown skin, black shiny hair, and eyes the color of dark honey. She smiles at me, revealing slightly crooked front teeth that make me like her instantly.
“No,” I say, with a head nod. “Nice to meet you.”
“She’s the new head of engineering,” Rebecca explains.
Something about my face must reveal that I have no idea what that means because Selena jumps in to explain. “I take care of the building,” she says.
“Ah, gotcha. Thanks,” I say. “I love this place.”
“It’s pretty amazing, a unique structure for sure,” Selena says. “I’m excited to be here.”
“As am I,” Rebecca says, looking at Dan as though the conversation is about something else.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“We were talking about the crypto meeting, as you so eloquently put it,” Dan answers.
“Are you coming?” I ask Rebecca.
“That’s what we are trying to figure out,” she answers. “One of us needs to stay here. I think it should be Dan due to the whole, his leg is broken and he’s a hot mess thing. And he thinks it should be me due to the whole, he’s the boss thing.”
“Both good arguments,” I say.
“Yeah,” Dan says. “But since I’m the boss, I’ll make the final decision.”
“Can we get Dr. Guilder’s take?” I ask. “I mean, you don’t want to risk re-injuring yourself.”
Dan laughs at me. “That is rich coming from you, Sydney. I’ve never known you to care about the health and well-being of yourself.”
I don’t answer, the truth of it feels a little raw. Why don’t I take care of myself? My hand rises to my belly. And if I can’t even look after my own body, how am I going to look after a baby?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dr. Guilder looks up from her computer screen and smiles. “Hello,” she says, her eyes flicking back to her monitor. “Did we have an appointment?”
“No,” I admit. “But can I make one?”
“I have some time now,” she says, standing and coming around the desk. “Come on in.” She leads me through to the same exam room. Blue’s nose taps my hip as we follow.
I climb back on the padded table and she takes her spot on the stool. Blue sits on the floor next to me, his head even with my knee. “What can I do for you?” Dr. Guilder asks.
“I’m not sure,” I admit, a little flustered now that I’m here. It seemed like a good idea after I left the cafeteria. Talk to a doctor…that makes sense. But what do I want to ask?
“It’s very normal for first-time parents to be a little lost,” Dr. Guilder says, her blue eyes shining with kindness. “Especially with your lifestyle. I’m sure you’re wondering how this will change things.”
“Yes,” I say, releasing a long exhale. “I’m afraid I won’t know what to do.”
“You won’t,” Dr. Guilder says, her voice upbeat. “But you also will.” She shrugs. “Every baby is different, and they don’t come with manuals. I can’t tell you the details of how your life will change, but I can advise that you create space for massive shifts.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, grateful she’s getting to the root of my problems.
“You’re going to need help. All mothers do. You’ll want to be somewhere you feel safe.” She pauses, her eyes holding mine. “Have you decided where to have the baby yet?”
I shake my head. “It feels like…” I trail off, fear choking off the rest of the sentence.
“If you make that decision then this will all be real.” I blink at her on point response. She smiles at me. “It’s normal, Sydney. Everything you’re going through—it’s all normal. And maybe that’s why it feels so very strange to you. You’re not used to being normal, are you?” I shake my head again, my voice locked in my chest with my heart, which is hammering like a freaking maniac. “I understand. Often the things we are most afraid of—once we face them, they turn out not to be so bad.”
“I’m used to facing scary things,” I say. “Just not ones like this.”
“No, taking on responsibility for another human life is a big deal.”
“I’ve been responsible for lives before,” I say, my voice low and a little scary, the predator-protector in me rising to the surface.
“Not like this,” Dr. Guilder says.
I nod. I’ve saved countless lives and taken countless others. I can’t even remember all of them. I’m sure their mothers mourned them, though. I stole other people’s children’s lives—they were all adults and deserved it, but still, I cut their lives short. And now I’m bringing my own child into this cruel world. My vision starts to spot. What the fuck is going to happen?
“Sydney.” Dr. Guilder is suddenly at my side, her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” I can’t answer. “You need to breathe, Sydney.”
Blue’s head lands heavy on my knee and he shifts his weight against my leg, grounding me, pulling me back from the brink. I take in a stuttering breath. The tear of velcro sounds and then Dr. Guilder wraps my bicep in a blood pressure cuff. Her face is grave as she pumps it.
I focus on Blue instead, laying my hand on his head. He closes his eyes as I pet him. “I don’t like how high your blood pressure is today,” Dr. Guilder says, ripping off the cuff. “It wasn’t like this when you came in before.”
“I’ve been through a lot since then,” I say with a smile.
Dr. Guilder’s face is pinched when she sits back down on her stool. “Sydney, I get the sense that telling you what to do may have the opposite effect.” I don’t respond. This woman may be a little psychic. “But I want to be clear about something. While you are young and healthy, stress is dangerous for you and this baby. I understand you don’t want to give up your life—no woman does. But when you’re pregnant, you have to change the way you do things, at least a little. Or else it can have dire consequences for you and your baby.”
Blue raises his head and looks at me, his mismatched eyes filled with adoration I don’t deserve but so deeply need. “I’m fine,” I mumble in the most pathetic attempt ever to avoid having this conversation and facing this reality.
“You are not fine—your blood pressure is too high and it wasn’t just a few days ago. You could be in danger of preeclampsia, which is life-threatening. If I prescribe you medication, will you take it?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“Good.” She turns to the computer on her desk. “And I want to see you again in a few days. I really think,” she turns to look at me, “that if you make a decision about where you’re having this baby, you’ll feel better. You just had a mild panic attack, Sydney. That is not good for you or the baby.” Her gaze falls to Blue. “It’s a good thing he was here.”
“He’s always by my side,” I say. “That’s one thing you can count on.”
“Dogs are not immortal, Sydney.”
“This one is,” I say. She looks at me funny but doesn’t respond. I smile down at Blue. He won’t ever leave me. That is one thing I know for sure. Everything else though…
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A dream wakes me. In the gray of dawn the details quickly evaporate and I’m left with a feeling of impending doom. Something bad is going to happen soon.
I’m on my side, Blue curled into the curve of my legs. His head rises and then lands on my hip; his eyes focus on my face. I turn to him and lay a hand on his head. “Just a dream,” I say.
At the sound of my voice Frank pops up from where he’d been sleeping on the floor. His tongue is out and he is ready for whatever adventure the day will bring.
“How about a walk?” I suggest.
Nila trots over to the bedroom door, just as ready as her brother, even if she doesn’t express herself with the same exuberance. I make a pot of coffee, fill a cup, and head out to the beach, taking the path through the jungle with my dogs padding behind me—Blue’s nose rhythmically tapping my hip.
There is a storm on the horizon—an angry shade of gray —close enough that it looks like the world is small. A figure sits on the beach, short brown hair fluttering in the wind. It’s Rebecca, Dan’s second-in-command.
She turns as we approach and lifts her coffee cup in greeting.
“Hey,” I say. “Mind if I join you?”
Rebecca’s brows raise in mild surprise but she nods. “Sure.”
I settle on the sand, Blue and Nila sitting next to me while Frank flops down beside Rebecca, rolling onto his back, and staring at her with pleading eyes. She laughs and pets his belly with her free hand.
We don’t speak for a long time. The sun rises up behind us, lighting the sky like watercolor paint stains paper and illuminating the looming storm, transforming the wall of gray into a swirl of bruise colors—purples, lingering greens and yellows.
My fingers rise to my neck, to the latest bruises to haunt my skin. They are almost gone now. Healed like so many others. I have not even dreamed of the terrorist who put them there. That is how callous I have become to violence. Or maybe that is what my dream was about and I just can’t remember.
Faces in the final moments of their lives flash through my mind’s eye, as quick and fierce as lightning. “You okay?” Rebecca asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Not really,” I answer. Both of us seem surprised by my honesty. We’ve never really spoken, and admitting to not being fine isn’t a thing near-strangers do. But I just did. Add it to the list of ways I’m not normal.
“What’s up?” she asks, shifting a little to better face me.
I smile. “So much,” I admit. “I want to completely change society and can’t see how.”
She nods, as if she’s had that thought. Which makes sense. We are sitting on the beach of a private island owned by a vigilante network that wants to dismantle the organizations that harm the defenseless. She’s dedicated her life to Joyful Justice as much as me—maybe even more. After all, I never made a conscious choice to sign up…I’ve just followed my blood lust and it landed me here.
“I have a theory,” Rebecca says.
“About how to burn it all down?”
“Yeah. If you want to upend society, completely render it—melt all the fat—then you’ve got to turn up the heat. So that is what Mother Earth is doing. We are all basically passengers on a flaming plane headed straight for the ocean. The fire will be put out, but we’ll all die in the process.”
“Wow, you’re a real downer,” I say with a smile.
She coughs a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. But I’m also just reading the writing on the wall. This planet is fucked. Dan and I are talking about selling the island—storms are getting worse. When the original owner bought this place as the ultimate safe harbor, he wasn’t expecting climate change, I guess.”
“But when I think about this situation,” she goes on, “I don’t get sad. I get motivated. I want to grab the fire extinguisher and blast the flames.”
“So while I’m looking for a way to start a fire, you’re trying to put one out?” I smile.
She grins. “This is the trouble with metaphors.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“There is no way to avoid this outcome without massive shifts in how we create and use energy. I think new technology is the only thing that can save us. And maybe not even that. But the suffering on the way down…”
“Yeah…” I say, picking up on her thoughts. Silence falls between us. We sip our coffee. The sun climbs higher, the cool mist of morning recedes, but the heat of the day hasn’t arrived.
Mulberry is coming today. That fact has circled me like a carrion bird circles a dying animal. And it’s not alone. I sigh.
“You’ll figure it out,” Rebecca says.
I turn to look at her. “You think?” I ask.
She nods. “Sure. Don’t you always?”
I chuckle. “More like never. I’m not someone who figures stuff out.”
“I thought you were a detective.”
“Hardly.” I shake my head. “I worked as a private eye for a few years, but I was never great at solving puzzles. I’m good at punching people in the throat.” I nod toward Blue. “He’s good at taking bad guys down to the ground and scaring the shit out of them.”
Rebecca narrows her eyes, looking at me. “You may not be giving yourself enough credit.”
“I think other people give me way too much.”
“You’re a hero, Sydney, to everyone on this island, every member of Joyful Justice. People all over the world look up to you.”
“They shouldn’t.” It’s simple and true.
She just looks at me for a long moment. I hold her gaze. Letting her see the truth. I’m not a hero. I’m just a raging lunatic.
“I think you’re wrong about yourself.” She nods, as if she’s reached a strong conclusion. “Maybe your refusal to admit you’re a hero is why you’re such a good one. No one likes an egomaniac.”
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