Chapter Eight
Thursday, March 29th, 0012 NE
0817 hours
Atami, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan
IT WAS THE strangest morning Natalie could remember in her life. After waking up for a second time on the guest bedroom floor, her body twisted and aching from her futile efforts to get comfortable, she painfully crept toward the closet to grab a kimono then freshen up while Jakob slept. While the kimono itself was beautiful, being blue with an embroidered flowery pattern, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to wear it, and it ended up wrapped messily across her body like a bathrobe. As for her hair, the decision to sleep with a wet head had proven troublesome, as all she could manage to do with it was tie it into a messy ponytail that, as it turned out, complimented her yellow bruises and scabbed-up scrapes perfectly. There was no cleaning up the mess in the mirror. From top to bottom, she looked like hell. She felt even worse.
Her “conversation” with Lisa had not only been discouraging, but it felt like a setback. She had hoped that by result of an even-keeled and reasonable conversation, she might manage to turn the captured Vector into an ally. Instead, the opposite happened. There was no chance that Lisa would see their side of things, now. And so, as she gave her pathetic-looking self a final look in the mirror, she trudged out of the guest room with a look of dejection. It was hard to imagine things getting worse.
It came as no surprise when they did.
As soon as Natalie stepped out of the bedroom, her eyes became fixated on the television, where the rest of her crew were gathered and watching an English news broadcast. It was like watching a telethon of bad developments. Beyond the gut-wrenching sensation of seeing their faces plastered on the screen and identified as terrorists, Natalie also learned more about the bombing of Chernobyl. EDEN was reporting a death toll that neared a thousand. General Thoor’s once-powerful, dark army was now in ruins.
But that wasn’t all. It was being reported that Tiffany had been shot down in the Pacific by none other than Jon Mariner. After being plucked out of the water and taken to Sydney, she was now on her way to EDEN Command. Though Natalie had no idea what EDEN planned to do to her, after seeing what they’d done to Mark Remington, she knew nothing was outside the realm of possibility. Her heart ached. It might have been better had Tiffany been blown into smithereens. Who knew what horrors she would face at EDEN’s hands?
This whole thing was a disaster. From start to finish, from one side to the next. A total disaster.
It didn’t take long for Natalie to note that Esther was the only one absent from those watching television. She mentioned it to Javon, only to be told that no one had seen the scout since they’d arrived the previous night—not to eat, not to slip into the bathroom to bathe, not to converse. Esther didn’t strike Natalie as the kind of girl to do something foolish, but after all she’d been through, Natalie felt that the risk of self-harm was a legitimate concern. She wanted to check up on her. This time, Javon didn’t stop her. And so, after eating a fresh plate of eggs, rice, grilled mackerel, and a pungent, yet not terrible dish called natto, she braced herself for entry into Esther’s bedroom. Unsurprisingly, the door was locked, but all it took was a quick gesture to Youko for that to change. As soon as the electronic latch was unlocked, Natalie turned the knob, quietly pushed the door open, then slipped inside.
As much of a mess as Natalie felt she was, the stench that hit her nostrils upon stepping into Esther’s bedroom nearly bowled her over. The room—or more accurately, Esther—smelled like a slew of mud, sweat, and filth. So pungent was it that Natalie couldn’t help but crinkle her nose upon entry. As Natalie eased the door shut behind her, the shaft of light from the living room disappeared into darkness. There was a rustling from the bed as Esther rolled over to face the intruder. But at least there was movement, which relinquished Natalie’s greatest fear. Standing just in front of the door, the scout’s silhouette barely visible in the darkness, Natalie broke the silence with a simple and quiet, “Hey.” Natalie didn’t expect a reply, and none came. Without a word, Esther laid her head back down, the expression on her face hidden from view. Stepping farther into the room, Natalie asked, “How you holding up?”
It was a ridiculous question, but it was the start of what would hopefully be a conversation, depending on how willing Esther was to entertain it. It was of no surprise to her, however, when the question went unanswered.
Sighing, Natalie walked to a cushioned chair against the wall, settling into it. “Yeah, that’s about how I thought.” She didn’t mean for the statement to sound sarcastic, though she was aware that it’d come out that way. Just the same, if there was anyone who could appreciate such thinly veiled pessimism, it was Esther. Leaning back in the chair and covering her face with one hand, Natalie blew out a breath and said, “So EDEN bombed Chernobyl.”
Esther moved under the covers. It was barely enough to be noticeable, but it did lead Natalie to believe that the scout was listening.
“And Tiffany got shot down. She’s alive, but in EDEN custody. Word is she’ll be taken to Command.” Pausing, Natalie said, “I talked to Lisa. Thought maybe I could turn her. I ended up hitting her in the face.” She released a single breath of unamused laughter. “And last, but not least, I had a nice chat with Ju`bajai.” The hope in that last statement was that it would be enough to prompt Esther to react, if for no other reason, out of curiosity as to what the alien might have told her. But no reaction came. Natalie lowered her head. “She found out by reading Lisa’s mind that EDEN knew we were coming because of a helmet they’d found at Hami Station. The helmet comm let them listen in on a conversation between Scott and Antipov.” For as little as she knew about Antipov, his name sure turned up in a lot of places. “They knew where we were going and when we would get there. All they had to do was set up and wait for us to arrive—and that’s exactly what they did.” She paused for a second longer. “They found out that the Nightmen were on their way to Chernobyl. That’s how they knew to bomb it. That’s how they knew everything.”
Though Natalie wasn’t looking up to see it, Esther’s head turned in her direction.
“And that’s everything,” Natalie said. “The whole kit and caboodle.” Exhaling, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Listen, I know none of this helps. I know none of this means anything. More than anything, I just wanted to come check on you. To find out if there’s anything you need or want, or…” She felt like she was grasping at straws for something else to say. “Esther, we’re here for you. That’s what I wanted to convey. I can’t imagine what you must be going through after…what happened.” It dawned on Natalie just as she said it that the last thing Esther would likely have remembered was Natalie and Logan pulling her away, kicking and screaming, from Jayden’s body.
As she remembered that little detail, a seed of anxiety sprouted inside her. She’d gone in there to offer moral support, but for all she knew, Esther wanted to kill her. Perhaps it was best just to leave. Pushing up from her chair, she offered to the scout a final, departing word. “There’s a great shower here if you want to get cleaned up—it might make you feel better.” And stink less. “And I know you must be hungry. There’s fresh food prepared in the kitchen. Fish, eggs, some…stuff.” She wasn’t quite sure how to describe natto. “It’d do you good to get something in you—at least so you don’t get sick.” Okay, time to leave. Esther hadn’t responded to anything, thus far; there was no reason to believe she’d start anytime soon. She turned for the door. “We’ll see you out there soon, okay?” After a final pause for cordiality’s sake, Natalie turned to make her way out of the room.
Well, that went well. Natalie wasn’t sure how she’d expected the chat to go in the first place. Even if Esther had been in a mood to talk or be comforted—and that was a big if—Natalie probably would have been her last choice. But she had to try. She had to let the scout know that she cared. And she did. Genuinely. Esther wasn’t her friend by any means, but she didn’t want the girl to suffer.
Approaching her from the other side of the room, Javon slid his hands into his pockets. “You talk to her?”
Shaking her head, Natalie answered, “I talked at her. That’s probably a more accurate way to put it.” She released a single huff of morbid laughter. “And she’s alive, so that counts for something, too.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we can expect her to—”
Javon’s words were interrupted as the door to Esther’s room slowly opened into the living room. He, Natalie, and the others all turned to regard it. Standing there in the open doorway, to Natalie’s shock, was Esther.
The scout looked an absolute wreck. Beyond still wearing the same street clothes she’d been rain-soaked in when she’d arrived with the others, her hair was stuck up in every direction, some strands pasted to the sides of her head and others almost vertical—no doubt the result of laying her wet and muddied head on a pillow for hours on end. Her eyes were outright baggy. It was the worst that Natalie had ever seen her—but at least she was seeing her. Javon never finished his words, as Natalie stepped away from him to ease her way closer to the scout. “Hey!” She tried not to sound overly enthused, as if that might frighten the girl away. “You okay?”
Esther nodded her head. In a voice as equally weak as the gesture, she said, “I’ll eat and take a shower.”
Natalie was stunned at the mere thought that her visit might have actually done good. “Absolutely,” she said, as all around them, the other survivors stared—some offering uncertain greetings while others simply observed. “Come on, right this way.” This was progress. This was good. Leading Esther across the living room to the kitchenette, she pointed to the variety of food that was still out. “Like I said, they have eggs, rice, I think this fish is mackerel. This stuff over here is called natto, it’s some kind of bean thing with I think a Dijon mustard sauce—I know you like mustard.”
“I hate mustard.”
“Okay, you hate mustard.” Then why were you holding a jar of mustard in your wedding photo? Whatever. “Never mind then, avoid the natto.”
Inhaling sharply, Esther asked, “Can I just have some bread?”
Natalie tried to remember if she’d seen any bread anywhere. “Uhh.”
“Rice. Rice is fine.” Sounding more ready to move on than truly wanting rice, Esther slipped past Natalie to grab a small bowl.
By no means did Natalie expect Esther to veer toward conversation, so the scout’s quick and easy placating wasn’t taken in a negative way. She likely didn’t want to talk to anyone. As Natalie stepped back to give Esther room behind the kitchenette, she watched her from behind. Despite her haggard appearance, Esther didn’t strike Natalie as weakened by combat or malnourishment. It was actually impressive to see just how much purpose one could put into picking up a bowl and scooping in a spoonful of sticky rice. There was a strange amount of focus to her movements. While it didn’t necessarily seem off in some way, it definitely struck Natalie as…well, noticeable. Well aware that she was reading into the scout’s posture far more than she likely needed to, Natalie approached Esther from behind as she watched her angle her head in the direction of Youko and the lackeys, where her focus seemed to hover.
“Yeah, they’re pretty much watching us around the clock,” Natalie said. “But, they do leave us alone. For the most part.”
“Thank you,” Esther said quietly. Grabbing a spoon—thankfully, those had been left out for the non-Japanese—the scout began eating the rice by heaping spoonfuls.
Eyebrows lifting, Natalie watched as Esther finished the entire bowl, albeit a small one, in what couldn’t have been more than a minute. Abandoning the bowl with a clank on the counter, she slinked around Natalie to traverse the room.
Sighing to herself, Natalie retrieved the dishes. “I’ll get that,” she whispered to herself. Placing the dishes in the sink, she turned back to the rest of the room just in time to see Esther marching toward the front door like a woman determined to walk right out of it. Eyes widening, Natalie’s breath caught as a wide-eyed Youko stepped to intercept. Oh no!
Exactly as Natalie thought would happen, Esther and Youko met hard. Stating firmly, “Stop!” Youko placed her hand on Esther’s chest and pushed back. Predictably—for Esther—the scout shoved the hand away and made for the front door again.
“Esther!” Natalie rounded the kitchenette’s small island just as the other survivors leapt to their feet to watch the tussle. “Esther, stop!” As Esther was shoved, Youko was shoved back with increasing vigor. Shoves became aggressive half-strikes as the lackeys rushed to Youko’s sides. The two women collided in frantic, grappling hits just as Natalie arrived to pull Esther back. “Esther—Esther!” Straining, Natalie practically had to sling the woman back to get her away from a wide-eyed and on-edge Youko.
“I want to see Lisa Tiffin,” Esther said, snarling as Natalie stood between her and the punk princess, who was shouting something in Japanese that sounded mighty threatening. “You got to see her, now it’s my turn!”
That was not happening—nor should it. “No. Esther, no!” The scout tried to push Natalie aside, but the captain held her own. “That’s a mistake!”
“You’re a bloody mistake.” Behind Esther, Javon and several of the others stood by, as if at any moment they might have to join a battle royale right there in the room. At the last second, with Natalie’s hand in her face, the scout teetered on relenting.
If there was a chance to quell this situation, it was right now. “You’re angry, I get it. But this is not the way. We’ll get out of here, we’ll figure it all out.” She wasn’t even quite sure what she meant by the words, but they were the first ones that came to her. “Just settle down, girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
Natalie sighed. “I know, we’re oil and water, whatever. Just—”
“I’ll take a sodding shower,” Esther said, eyes still locked on Youko as she turned away from Natalie. “Just leave me alone.” Without another word and with Natalie’s hand still outstretched as if it might have to stave her off again, Esther marched through the bathroom door and slammed it shut behind her.
The speed at which this had all unfolded had Natalie’s head spinning. Turning around to Youko, who was now targeting her with her glaring almond eyes, the embattled captain said, “I’m sorry, okay?”
Youko spat back something that Natalie couldn’t understand before storming away with the lackeys.
“Veck, man,” said Tom, who was staring wide-eyed with the rest of the crew.
Natalie raised a hand in his direction as if to dismiss all commentary, then she approached the bathroom door. Just before she reached it, she heard the showerhead turn on. Shaking her head, she stood there as her heart settled. God, what could have just happened. Youko did not seem the type to push, and pushing was what Esther excelled at. What in the world had possessed the scout to try that? She just lost her husband—she’s emotionally unstable. It doesn’t matter how calmly she scoops her rice, she’s clearly not ready to reenlist. She could only imagine what Esther would have done with Lisa had she actually been able to get to her—not that that was even possible given she had no idea where the Vector was. But still.
“Hey.”
The calm voice of Javon snapped Natalie out of her thoughts. She turned to look at the soldier beside her.
“She gonna be all right. She just gotta work through it.”
Natalie wanted to believe that. Truly, she did. But in the time that she’d spent around Esther Brooking, she’d never seen the woman work rationally through anything. “God, Javon, what she could’ve—”
Javon shook his head. “She ain’t thinking. We have to give her that time. You did good gettin’ her out her room, now just let her cool off.” Softly, he laughed. “She’s gonna get all cleaned up, dressed out, feelin’ better. She’ll feel too good to want to fight after that.”
“Pfft.” The sound just blurted out of Natalie’s lips.
“Hey, c’mon. That ain’t the attitude we need.”
Narrowing her eyes at her newly christened XO, she said, “All right.” Briefly, her gaze drifted in Youko’s direction, where she saw the punk princess glaring at her from afar. Natalie rolled her eyes and looked away. “Let’s just be extra vigilant when it comes to Esther. She’s dangerous when she’s sane—who knows how much worse she could be with her emotions all screwed up?”
Javon nodded.
“At least we don’t have to worry about her right now.” Casting a final glance to the bathroom door, Natalie listened to the cascade of water against tile for a moment before stepping forward, patting Javon on the back, and walking away.
* * *
As far as showerheads went, it was the height of luxury. Mounted flush with the ceiling and large enough to douse the user with their choice of raindrops, twin waterfalls, or a barrage of spray, it was the perfect means by which a person could receive the ultimate drenching. People paid top dollar for such systems—ones meant not just to cleanse, but to experience. With this one’s twin waterfall setting selected, it was sending two glistening ribbons of clear water straight down to the floor.
The only thing missing was someone to receive it.
Standing barefoot at the back of the bathroom, Esther’s mind was far removed from waterfalls and shower systems. Her clothes were still on—she’d made no effort to grab towels or a kimono from the closet. Her sole focus was on the object in her hands—the clean swipe that her comrades had been too distracted by the ruckus to notice. The one the woman called Youko hadn’t even felt herself lose. Adjusting the frequency dials of the Japanese lackey’s personal comm, Esther sought out a channel that wasn’t supposed to exist.
Containing emotions had never been Esther’s strong suit, so it came as no surprise that in the aftermath of Jayden’s death, she’d run the full gamut of them. Panic. Soul-crushing anguish. Unbridled rage. She bounced from one to the other with enough emotional velocity to cause whiplash. But mostly, she cried. She cried upon waking up in a dingy room with a handful of the survivors. She cried before falling asleep in her guest suite bedroom. She cried when she woke up, long before Natalie had come in through the door. And every time she thought her tears had been exhausted, more found their way to the surface. In that last glimpse she’d had of Jayden—of his wide, frozen eyes and the blood seeping from his mouth—she saw every dream she’d had slip through her fingers. After a life of struggling to find a purpose larger than the chip on her shoulder, she’d finally found someone who made her feel valuable. Who made her feel loved. Then, she lost him.
And so, though shock, anger, fear, and disbelief all made beds in her heart, the master suite belonged to paralyzing grief. She’d let herself become vulnerable for the sake of love only to be left more vulnerable than when she began. She was ready to die.
That all changed with three sentences.
Pressing the button on the swiped comm and with the backdrop of falling water to mask her voice, she quietly asked, “Are you there?”
The helmet comm let them listen in on a conversation between Scott and Antipov. They knew where we were going and when we would get there. All they had to do was set up and wait.
They were Natalie’s words, but they repeated inside Esther’s head over and over. The moment she’d heard them, there came a horrible sensation. A gut feeling that she couldn’t ignore. She had to know the truth.
For several long seconds, nothing came over the comm. Then, just as she knew it would, the staticky sound of a return transmission emerged. That Russian voice that addressed her, she knew all too well. “Hello, valkyrie.”
The mere sound of Antipov’s voice made her skin crawl. With a jaw so firmly set it was hard to speak, she summoned up the strength to ask the question. “Did you set us up?”
She heard Antipov draw in a long breath. “Yes,” he answered.
“You worm.” Her face twisted. Teeth clinched, she trembled with rage. “You lying, manipulative worm.”
“Miss Brooking…”
She seethed. “I’m going to kill you.”
Once more, he calmly said, “Miss Brooking?”
“My last name. Is Timmons.”
Another breath was drawn. “Mrs. Timmons.”
“To think I trusted you, to any extent.” It was hard to form the words without spitting them. A hatred was brewing the likes of which she’d never felt before. “When I find you, and I will find you—”
“Your husband may still be alive.”
Everything stopped. With her mouth hanging open, the whole world went still. All she could manage was, “What?”
The tone of his voice was unchanged. “A second outlaw survived the attack. He has been taken to EDEN Command. His identity is being kept secret.”
“You’re lying.”
“Did I lie about my actions when you asked? I would lie to many people, Mrs. Timmons. I would not lie to you.”
Esther’s cheeks flushed as Antipov spoke on…yet deep inside, her heart started to beat faster.
“I have a contact who has infiltrated EDEN Command. Someone who sided with me a long time ago but remained hidden for a moment such as this—when the location of EDEN Command could be determined and we could destroy it.”
Swallowing what felt like an egg, Esther continued to listen.
“He informed me that there were three outlaws captured in the operation. One was obviously Remington. The second was Tiffany Feathers, who is en route to EDEN Command as we speak. The third, however, was unknown—though I was told that he arrived riddled with bullets and clinging to life. I cannot promise you that this outlaw was Jayden. But there are only so many that it could have been. You were there—you would surely know better than I would who could have survived. If you do not believe me, just wait. I assure you, this will leak to the media.”
She was barely even listening to what he was saying now. The Briton’s mind was racing, the thump-thump-thumping of her heart becoming audible in her head. She felt lightheaded. Riddled with bullets. Jayden and Becan were riddled with bullets. But it didn’t mean it was either of them. Valentin had sent slayers with them—this could be one of them. But if it was true…even if the slayers were among those possibilities…Jayden was a possibility, too. A dazed look came over her, until she realized that Antipov was still talking. The scout tuned back in.
“I want to be sure that you understand what I’m telling you, Mrs. Timmons. There is a chance that your husband left the battlefield alive.”
“Stop it!” Esther shrieked, her efforts to be quiet failing. Pointing hard at her own chest, she said, “I saw him die! I saw him get shot through the back. I saw him die!”
Hesitating, Antipov asked, “Are you sure?”
She was. She was sure she was sure. Right? Did I…did I check him for a pulse? Did anyone? She didn’t remember. Natalie and Logan had torn her away, kicking and screaming, from the scene. So vehement had her distress been, Ju`bajai had been forced to knock her out so Logan could carry her. She’d been in hysterics. Completely out of her mind. Could Jayden have really survived? Could he still be alive? Every memory from Jayden came rushing back to her like a tsunami. Everything.
A knock came from the bathroom door. “Esther?” Natalie’s voice rang out from the other side. “Are you okay?”
“Leave me alone!”
“Just—just checking.”
She needed to be quieter, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to speak in hushed tones. She wanted to scream, to shout. To drop down to her knees and pray to a God she scarcely believed in. To put a pistol to Antipov’s head and make him swear that he was telling the truth.
The eidola leader remained silent on the other end of the line, apparently content to let his tease of uncertainty linger. To let Esther taste it. Pressing her fist to her forehead, she closed her eyes to keep her shimmering lids at bay. With clenched teeth, she asked him, “So, what now?”
“You commed me.”
A pitiful laugh escaped Esther’s lips. She didn’t care if he heard it. “Right.” She may have commed him, but there wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t believe he’d expected it. Willed it. Because that was what he did. He made people think ideas were their own, when in reality, people did exactly what he wanted them to do. While there was no way that Antipov could have known the specifics of what would happen in the forests of Atami—that Jayden would be shot, that Lisa would be captured, that Logan would turn outlaw, or that Esther would even survive—there was no doubt in his mind that he had an, “If Esther needs something,” chapter in his book of secret plans.
“I know that you are upset,” Antipov said.
“You have no bloody clue.”
“We have been at silent war with EDEN for a very long time—this dates far before any signs of a conspiracy. They wish to be some unifying force. But in all of man’s history, unification has never led to anything good.” The eidola chief drew in a breath. “A global military sounds beneficial, but what happens when the war is over? Who is in control of that military, then? What will they do to people with opposing philosophies on how nations should be governed? On how laws should be enforced? On how gods should be worshiped, if they should even be worshiped at all?
“Let me tell you what I have learned about men. They look out for themselves. More than anything else, more than any cause they claim to fight for—a man seeks to better his position by putting himself in the best position. And once he has that position, woe to the one who seeks to strip it away. Many wars have been fought so a king may keep his crown.
“This communication between Benjamin Archer and the Ceratopians is concerning, but it did not change my opinion of EDEN. They seek to govern the world. I say, no one man is qualified to do that. No one president. No one council of judges. Let every nation be free. Let every nation be their own—be proud of who they are and where they came from. I for one do not like the idea of a British president being responsible for the protection of Russia—he has no connection here, no love for this place. It is a game piece on a board to him. But it is not that to me.
“Let Russia do what is best for Russia. Let Britain do what is best for Britain. Let America do what is best for America. All nations—from one side of the world to the next—must care for themselves in the ways they see fit. A global entity should not make decisions for a nation they do not live in.
“This war will be won, Esther. Humanity will prevail. And then, under EDEN’s sweeping guidance, it will become everything that EDEN wants it to be. No—that is not living to me. Men should be free.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. “Where the hell are you going with all this?”
“I have spent years putting things into place,” he answered, “waiting for just a time as this, when the great beast that lords over us could be slain. All I needed—the only thing that eluded me—was EDEN Command. But it eludes me no longer. Before the mission, I sent a man to capture Remington, that he might be taken to EDEN Command himself and reveal its location to me. I have that location now. And very soon—very soon—its hallways will be consumed with the fury of the Nightmen. We will burn it to the ground.”
She couldn’t hold back. “You and what army? A handful of Nightman stragglers from Novosibirsk?”
“Oh, Mrs. Timmons. You have no idea what we have in store.” Antipov inhaled a slow, deep breath. “I allowed you to be set up because I knew the freedom of the world outweighed the lives of one unit. But I hoped you would survive. I tell the truth when I say, I smiled a small smile of relief when I heard your voice through this channel.”
“Go to hell.”
He hesitated. “I am not a hateful man. I wish you and your comrades only the best. But if one unit can be sacrificed for the salvation of the world…would you not permit that, yourself?” He continued before she could answer. “I will retrieve you from the Ikeda-kai. Believe me, they have bitten off far more than they could ever chew—though I am grateful for the role they have played in keeping you safe. I will also ensure that my contact in EDEN Command identifies the survivor. I will do everything in my power to have him retrieved along with Remington and Feathers.”
The mere mention of the unknown survivor prompted Esther to close her eyes. She didn’t want to believe that it could actually be Jayden. She didn’t want to have hope in something that she knew would be false. Her voice, despite the heavy beating of her heart, remained low. “It’s not Jayden.”
“Have faith, valkyrie.”
She didn’t want to have faith. Faith was for the pure. She was anything but. “It could be someone Valentin sent—some slayer.”
“This was someone of significance. There are only two people who qualify as that: Becan McCrae or your husband.”
Face twisting, Esther sunk down to her knees and pressed her hands to her head. Her whole body trembled. What if it was him? What if it really was Jayden? Her husband. Her Texan. How amazing it would be to see his smile once again. How awful it would be…
…if she saw Becan instead.
Oh, God. Though she didn’t speak the words, they rang clearly in her mind. There came the realization that in her heart—in her spirit—she had to choose who to hope for. Which one of them did she want to be alive? Which one of them was she hoping was dead? Becan—that plucky Irishman who’d brought a smile to her face since day one. Who never set out to hurt a soul. Who could alleviate the worst of situations with a smile and a witty remark. He had a son. A little baby boy in America. In pulling for Jayden, she would be pulling for that boy to lose his father—a father who loved him so very much. How could she—a girl who’d grown up fatherless and suffered greatly for it—wish that upon the son of one of her most cherished friends?
Hope for Jay, for her sake.
Hope for Becan, for the baby boy’s.
What kind of horrible choice was that?
No summoning of strength could stop the tears from streaming down Esther’s face; she bent forward until her forehead touched the floor. Mouth open, silent heaves came forth. How could a loving God do this? How could He give her those two options? For all she’d heard about His grace and His mercy from people like Scott and Dostoevsky, she felt none of it. As much as she fought to even believe that such an all-knowing being might exist, a larger part of her fought not to hate Him if He did. Jayden or Becan? Her happiness or a little boy’s? On the surface, it seemed that was the choice. But her real choice was so much deeper than that. This was a choice about her. About the kind of person she wanted to be. About proving Jayden’s faith in her right.
She hoped the survivor was Becan.
Any effort to hold in her emotions was abandoned. Drawn-out wails reverberated off the walls and bathroom tiles. There was no way the rest of the guest suite couldn’t hear them. But that didn’t matter now. These sounds, they would fully expect.
A short time passed until Antipov spoke again, though Esther was still broken when he did. “Bide your time until we come for you. It may be days—or longer. But I promise you, we will get the survivors back together—whoever they may turn out to be.”
There was nothing for her to say.
“This will be the last time you hear my voice before you return. Do not try to reach out to me again. Though it pleases me to hear your voice, it is too great a risk.” There was a final pause before he closed the channel out. “Good bye, valkyrie.”
The comm went silent.
Lying strewn out on the floor, Esther did, too.
For almost twenty minutes, Esther laid motionless, the heavy splashing of two ceiling-mounted waterfalls providing the only ambient sound in the room. On a better day, she might have enjoyed standing beneath them. In a better time, she might have sought such water to escape in. But this was not that day or time. When Esther did finally manage to drag herself up, it was with sagging shoulders. Even as she walked beneath the water, not bothering to remove her clothes or set out a towel, she offered not the faintest reaction. She only stood there, pelted from above by a luxury she couldn’t have cared less about. This wasn’t about getting clean or finding a reprieve. There was nothing about this water that felt good at all. It was just wet.
To be sure, Esther did eventually take time to clean off—but it was an act of pure necessity. Even the silk kimono she found in the closet, appropriately black in color, brought her no sense of comfort. The only moment of anything resembling satisfaction came when she disposed of the comm she’d stolen from Youko, deactivating it and then tossing it behind a panel cutout beneath the sink, far out of reach. Hopefully, Youko would just think she’d misplaced it. After combing her damp hair straight back, she made her way for the door without bothering to look in the mirror. However she looked to everyone else was of no concern to her. For what it was worth, they seemed happy to see her at all.
And it was then—as she exited and looked at her comrades that she barely knew—that a different sensation washed over her: the last one she’d expected to feel. As one by one, her fellow survivors approached her to hug her, she found herself once again breaking down and surrendering to their embraces. No care seemed given to the fact that only a short while ago, she’d almost started a fight, nor did Esther herself care that at least up until that moment, she’d never really cared for any of these particular people at all. Without a single word, they told her that they cared about her. It spoke volumes—even if she wasn’t quite ready to speak back.
There was simply no way that Esther could risk confiding in her teammates when it came to the words she’d received from Antipov—or the fact that she’d pickpocketed Youko’s comm to receive them. Thankfully, though, there was no need to keep her inner torment about Jayden and Becan secret. Just as Antipov predicted, there soon came a media report about a rumor that another outlaw had survived the ambush. As the talking heads always inevitably did, they discussed in detail the leading candidates: Jayden Timmons and Becan McCrae. The media spared no indignity—every supposed crime against humanity committed by the two was discussed in full. Just before the point where it became completely unbearable, Natalie switched the television off.
In the hours that followed, Esther tried her hardest to stave off her swirling emotions as she clung to her comrades’ compassion. Sometimes that compassion was conveyed in words—sometimes in a gentle hand on her shoulder or knee when those swirling emotions won out. But it was always there. Always close.
Eventually, other priorities emerged to take her mind off her grief. There was a bedridden pilot to care for—a man who hadn’t known any of them prior to this operation but who had nonetheless taken up the call when it’d come to him. There was also a young man—a teenager—who had no business being involved in any of this. A boy whose last name might live in infamy forever. Esther could see a bit of Scott in his little brother. Just a measure, but it was there. Mark needed to know that his brother was good. That none of this was what it seemed. As much as Esther needed comfort, Mark did, too.
In focusing on all of these things, Esther simultaneously managed to take care of herself. The overwhelming sense of grief in Jayden’s death coupled with the possibility that he might still be alive was too much to dwell upon while composure was trying to be maintained. When thoughts of those things came, she jettisoned them away, focusing instead on what she could be for Jakob Reinhardt and Mark Remington. A makeshift nurse for one. A friend for the other, who so desperately needed one. With as much discipline and selflessness as she could muster, she set her mind on striving to be a better person than she’d traditionally been. The kind of person that Jayden believed she could be. The Texan deserved that much if he was still alive. He deserved it even more if he wasn’t. In a situation that felt so out of her control, at least that was something she could cling to. At least it was a reason to live on. And it was that, perhaps more than anything else, that Esther Timmons so desperately needed.
For the faintest of moments, she had it.