Never Far Gone, page 22
“Where’s the fun in that, huh?” I ask while smiling. She giggles and stops abruptly before forcefully yanking my shirt open in an impatient manner. As Renata bends down and kisses my chest, commenting on the smell of my cologne when she does, I erotically pull her braid while lifting my upper body to stay close to hers. She lets out a smirk as her eyes become locked with mine, and I kiss her with ferocity as I slide the straps of her dress off her shoulders.
Renata unravels her braid to get more comfortable as the top portion of her dress begins slipping off. With her long blonde hair now dangling free along her bare skin, she looks more stunning than ever before. As the light from within the room ricochets off the closed beige drapes concealing our presence from the outside world, the color in Renata’s face is noticeably pale in comparison to how she normally looks. Her cheeks become stained with discreet shades of red as she smiles and addresses me.
“What, cat got your tongue?” she remarks with a luscious grin as her confidence and self-esteem trump even my own. Somehow, the presence of a woman who carries herself as she does only makes her more attractive to me. As she begins undoing my belt, she freezes in her tracks as her hand hovers a few inches above the hilt of my knife, the same knife I had pulled on Graham a couple of hours ago. As the memory floods into her mind, evident by how she gasps slightly while retracting her hand, I use both of my hands to grab her face in an attempt to avert her attention back to the present moment.
“Hey, you’re okay…” I whisper as she looks at me. With my pinkie along her carotid artery, I can feel Renata’s pulse stabilize as she takes a few deep breaths. Without warning, Renata pushes me back on the bed while keeping her hand on my pectoral. Her grip is firm enough to keep me pinned down as she remains seated on my pelvis. With her right hand, she grabs the hilt of the knife and retracts it from its sheath before bringing it up in front of her and examining it.
“Who knew such a small thing can be so intimidating…” Renata says as she turns the blade around in the air to inspect it closer. Her mouth is agape slightly as she remains invested in the weapon.
“Well, if you consider six inches small, then we may have to have a chat,” I say while letting out a cunning chuckle. With the knife still in the air, Renata glances down at me before wrapping her free hand around my throat. Although not incredibly tight, her hold on me is enough to keep me at bay as my eyes connect with hers. There’s not an ounce of fear in my body—no worry or feelings of anguish. The only thing I feel as she lowers the knife against my throat is content.
“Why did you take us in that night? Why did you step in front of me today?” Renata asks as she inches her face closer to mine. Her body heat compliments mine, even as her words bounce around in my head. “Why me?” she asks as her eyes scan my face for an answer. She isn’t upset or patronized. Nothing about her tone tells me that she’s scared or afraid. There’s only one thing I see in her eyes: Confusion.
“We can’t save everyone. But why not try?” I ask as the thought of seeing her for the first time, as well as the memories of all the others who have perished since, enter my mind. With the blade still against my neck, Renata’s breaths start to become heavier. After a slight pause, she leans in to kiss me more intensely. I fling the knife out of her hand before grabbing her waist and letting the moment flow. She grabs my face with one hand, causing me to slowly open my eyes, and gently strokes the side of my head.
“I love you, Miles Gether,” Renata says as her breath begins to shudder slightly. Even as we lie there, I can’t help but feel a sense of comfort washing over me. With her hazel eyes peering into my soul, my affection for her only seems to heighten with every passing second. I use the back of my fingers to caress her warm, reddish cheeks before telling her precisely what every inch of my being is feeling.
“I- I love you, too, Renata Caruso…” I say as she lets out an invigorating smile. “God knows I do.” After leaning in to kiss me once more, her cold hands begin to slide down my chest and past my abdomen before fumbling with my belt once more. As we stumble further into the night, everything around us seems to fade into the background. From the distant moans of Spectrals wandering aimlessly under the sporadic stars plastered above to the occasional gunshot echoing through the borough, nothing seems to get in the way of our evening. In the way of our moment. In the way of the future.
10
Ledger
Vito Caruso Renata Caruso
Hope Starcov Charlotte Kennedy
Pancho Ruiz Simon Adams
Derrick Simmons Jayden Walker
(There are 96 additional names on the list)
Journal Entry: I’m mediocre at many things, but shooting isn’t one of them. I’m sure Vito’s results can validate that. Corver has helped with teaching him, too. I can’t forget the look on Vito’s face when he landed his first shot with the .22. He’s getting better as the weeks go by. Still, I can’t help but wonder how far this kid will go in life. Either way, he’s got a lot to learn.
“I concur…” Lance declares as the long wooden conference table vibrates when he abruptly strikes his palm down on it. “If the East Village Group wants to exchange some of their generators for one of our trucks, who are we to deny such a request?” he asks with a mix of enthusiasm and conviction. The other Delegation members are spread out, nodding at every word Lance says. I drag my fingers along the page of my open journal to see how many topics we have left for discussion.
“Alright, that settles that then…” I say as I reposition myself in the chair I had pulled out of my office. “Pancho, have the PCC radio them in after this. Let them know we’ll be ready to make the drop by Friday,” I instruct. I see him nod as he begins taking notes on a yellow Post-it, all while using his other hand to bring a half-melted ice pack to his swollen left eye.
“And for God’s sake, leave the giant’s wife alone,” I say as he mumbles under his breath. Some of the people at the table are trying, and failing, to hold back their laughter as the thought of a black eye seems to be some poetic justice for JB’s flirtatious actions.
“Wasn’t worth it, I’ll tell ya that much,” Pancho retaliates as the room lights up with festive hysteria. Derrick crumbles a sheet of looseleaf paper in front of him and throws the paper ball at Pancho, which bounces off his forehead, increasing the volume of laughter in the room.
“Alright, alright…” I say as I begin chuckling myself. “We’ve only got one more thing to talk about, and you can all go back to doing whatever the hell you do,” I say as I dodge a paper ball Derrick effortlessly throws at me from his seat while booing me. Hope punches him in the shoulder to get him to pay attention, forcing Derrick to rub his arm in exaggeration.
“Last night, we received a call from the PCC about a request being made from a group hunkered down in a shooting range near Albany. Now, we’ve never gone that far, but they’re willing to barter with us. Weapons, primers, bullet casings, gunpowder; they’ve got it all,” I state as the playful atmosphere transitions to that of focus.
“Well, what do they want?” Renata asks, placing her elbows on the table and her chin between her hands.
“They didn’t say much, only that they were interested in developing a friendship with those in the Consulate. The woman on the other line said she knew us and mentioned Corver’s name specifically,” Hope says as she recalls the previous night when she was on duty. As we divert our glances to Corver, we see him look around in confusion.
“I don’t know a single person upstate, let alone a female in Albany,” Corver admits as he ponders why his name would’ve been mentioned at all.
“I want to check these people out. As far as Hope has told me, we’ve got an address. I want to send some of our guys up there to verify who these people are,” I announce as I am faced with mixed reactions from those in front of me.
“Miles, you said it yourself; we’ve never journeyed that far up before,” Lance says with a very distinguishable look of concern. “We should stick with the traders we have now in our local network. I mean… the amount of people a commute like that would require, the resources it would deplete…” he projects worryingly.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Especially if we’re scheduled to give the East Village Group one of our trucks at the end of the week, can we really afford the trip?” Renata asks while some of the people around the table begin nodding.
“We’ll be down to six vehicles on Friday, but we only need one. I want to send four people up there so they can take the Escalade,” I declare as I start to regret volunteering such a beautiful SUV for the trip. Some people in the room relax when they hear my reassurance.
“I’ll take point on the team heading up there,” JB says as he stands up from his chair.
“Dude, can you even see out of your eye well enough to drive?” Hope asks as Derrick nearly falls out of his chair from the sudden and unexpected comment. As he composes himself and his laughter, he begins to roll up another paper ball but is interrupted when Pancho throws his pen at him.
“Enough…” I say as I throw my pen at Pancho. He sits back down, all while using his peripherals to glance in Derrick’s direction for any other flying objects. I lean back in my seat.
I live with children.
“David will take point on the team…” I say as Renata shoots me a look of disapproval and objection. I glare at Pancho, who seems disappointed in me for denying him the team leader position. “It’ll be me, David, Derrick, and Montero if he’s up to it. Pancho, I want you to take point on the Village trade,” I declare. Derrick throws down the crumpled ball of paper in his palm and begins to stand in retaliation.
“C’mon, boss. I can take care of the Village trade if you-” he says before I intercept his opposition.
“Truth be told, I love you, brother, but you weren’t my first choice. I wanted to bring Corver so they’d see a familiar face, but I think it’s best if he stays here in case they have a target on his back. He was the only one they knew by name, and we don’t know their true intentions,” I let out calmly. I can see Derrick’s look of opposition subside as the decision becomes more and more logical to him with every passing second.
“If you agree with the plan, make your peace now,” I say, lifting my hand to show I’m on board with the commute. “Raised,” I say.
The room falls silent as everyone considers whether such a venture should be undertaken. There is a short pause between each response.
“Raised,” Pancho says before anyone else. His free hand remains stationary, slightly above his ice pack.
“Raised,” says Derrick as he lets out a sigh. I can tell he’s not fully vested in the idea, but he doesn’t object.
Hope, Lance, Corver, and Renata are all sitting idly in their seats, awkwardly exchanging looks with one another. I don’t think any of them agree with what we’ve got lined up.
We only need one more vote…
“Babe, think this through…” Renata says, leaning forward in her seat a foot away from my left. I notice her look of genuine worry, and it’s the same look that Lance has on his face. She doesn’t want me to head into such an impulsive situation. I refrain from saying a single word so as not to interrupt the voting process.
Silence.
“Alright, but you all better come home safe…” Hope says as she begins to lift her hand above her head. “Raised.”Renata slams both hands on the table while standing up and exiting the conference room in anger. I can see Corver look at me as he reaches for his chair’s armrest to stand, but he stops when he sees me look at him and shake my head.
She’ll cool off.
“That’s that, then,” I say as I begin to stand myself. “Against my better judgment, I’m going to speak with Graham. He knows the state better than most, so I need him to chart the best course for us to take for the commute,” I hesitantly admit. I don’t even want to be in the same room as that piece of shit, but I need his help on this one.
“Do you want me to back you up?” Pancho asks as he smiles, presumably at the possibility of getting into another scrap with Corver’s brother.
“No, I need to talk with him alone. Plus, I don’t think you’d stand to lose another eye,” I say jokingly as Derrick tosses another paper ball at Pancho. He lunges at Derrick, causing his chair to tip over and both men to fall to the ground. Amidst their wrestling, I grab my journal from the table.
“Hope, radio in to the PCC and tell them to set up the meet with the traders in the Village,” I politely command over the sound of Pancho tapping out of Derrick’s headlock. “I’ll let everyone know when we’re ready to head out. Delegation dismissed,” I declare as I make my way out of the room and into the main office.
With the door leading into Graham’s cell now unlocked and swung open, I can see him on the other side of the closet, sitting on one of the window sills facing the Overwatch Convoy. He doesn’t turn to face me, even after I begin approaching him. As I’m about three feet away, I toss him a set of handcuffs I checked out of the Armory. He eyes them as they land next to his feet.
“Put them on…” I say in a near whisper. I guess he recognizes my voice because he slumps down to pick them up and addresses me directly. Even as he does so, his eyes never deviate from the stainless steel restraints.
“So, is this how things are going to stay between us, Miles?” Graham asks as he straightens his back and glances at me, the bags under his eyes telling me he isn’t as comfortable as I thought he’d be given the isolation, and places the handcuffs in front of him for closer examination.
“That depends on what happens in the next couple of minutes…” I say as I begin unfolding one of the white collapsible table tops leaning against the wall to my right. I extend its gray metallic legs and place the table between Graham and myself. “I need you to guide me on the best route upstate. With your… history, before the war and after, I reckon you know the seamless ways to move around without any hiccups,” I say as I begin flattening a paper map of the highway routes Lance retrieved from the library.
“A war, huh… Is that what this is?” he asks with genuine curiosity and a hint of sarcasm.
“It’s taking everything I have not to push you through that window, so how about you shut the fuck up and do what I say. Cuff your wrist to the radiator over there,” I bark out as I extend my finger to the cold radiator near one of the slightly opened windows.
I see him hesitating, but after a brief pause, I hear him click one of the loosened cuffs shut, followed by another click as he attaches the other cuff to the edge of the radiator. Now restrained, he sits in the already-opened metal chair and looks up at me.
“You’ve got my undivided attention… boss,” he says sarcastically.
I pull up a foldable chair in front of the map strewn across the table and sit down. Pulling my seat closer to the edge of the table, I position my elbows on the top of the map and examine it closely to find our current location.
“I need to get to Albany. If I’m not mistaken, we’re somewhere around… here,” I say. Seeing as though Graham was brought here blindfolded and against his will, I’m fairly certain he’s clueless about our general location. I can see him eyeing different routes on the black-and-white paper. The map takes up the entire table, so every highway in the state is easily identifiable. It takes a minute or so before he begins speaking.
“It might be a little slower, but you can cut across the borough and head up on I-87,” Graham says as he follows the route meticulously with his finger. “What part of Albany?” he asks without taking his eye off the map.
“Near Troy,” I proclaim as I sit back in my chair and let him map out the details.
“No kidding. Well, you can hop onto I-787 around… here once you’re near Albany, and it’s a straight shot from there,” he says as he grabs the yellow highlighter on the table and begins marking the path with his free hand.
“How long should that commute be?” I ask.
“Who the hell knows? Normally, a ride like that would take two to three hours, but I hear the roads are packed these days,” Graham asserts in a sarcastic manner that only serves to agitate me. “Could take a day if you’re driving carefully,” he says. I flip the map around once he retracts his free hand from the table and follow the route with my fingers.
This could work…
“Anything I should know about this route?” I ask as my eyes connect with his. I’m examining his body language to assess whether he’s telling me the truth.
“As long as you stay off the Taconic, you should be set,” Graham says in an attempt to reassure me. Although taken with a grain of salt and a hint of skepticism, I begin rolling the map while I stand. I dig into my pocket and toss a small set of keys onto the middle of the table.
“I don’t think anyone here will ever forgive you for the shit you did, but do yourself a favor. Do what good you can with whatever life you have left…” I say as I turn and make my way out of the room, leaving the cell door open behind me. I nod at Luca as he remains standing guard outside of the room; his overgrown, dark brown hair works to conceal his eyes once they meet mine. Luca gives me a subtle nod before breaking his gaze, and I slightly turn my head to the side before addressing Graham.
“You never know what greatness might come of it down the road,” I say aloud for Graham to hear as I make my way out of the gym.
It doesn’t take long to get the men ready for the trip. As they pack the back of the Escalade with MREs we secured from the Armory across the street, I readjust my lightweight dark olive plate carrier and ensure all my magazines are accounted for.
Check.
I grab the MPX leaning upright against the rear passenger wheel before tossing it into the back seat. As I shut the door, the sound of which bounces off the walls of the rear courtyard, I turn to see Renata leaning against the cafeteria exit. She’s still pissed, but I can’t leave without saying goodbye.
