Obscure

Chapter 9

Elias

Every day, the hard metal chair bit into Elias's legs a little more. Every day, the reflection of the harsh light off the table stabbed a little deeper into his brain. Every day, the world felt a little foggier, his thoughts a little muddier. A product of his lack of sleep. That cot in his room—or call it what it was, his cell—was no better than sleeping on the floor. When he did sleep, he dreamed of Sammy, or occasionally of Max. His dreams were not restful.

It was a small consolation that Kirill looked as if he hadn't slept well either. His eyes had lost a little of their sharpness, his stance a little of its rigidity. Of course, he had put on that act before. Elias had vowed not to fall for it again. But this time, it looked like Kirill was trying to hide his exhaustion. And that told Elias it was likely real.

What was keeping Kirill awake? Elias hoped it was his question—the question the man hadn't been able to answer. Who was he under his endless number of masks? Who was this person who had joined PERI willingly to work against his own kind?

Elias didn't let himself think too long about why he wanted to know. He didn't let himself wonder who else he was trying to understand.

"Sammy." Kirill let the name hang in the air. He said nothing else.

As if the name alone would be enough to make the memories spill out of him. But even as he thought it, the memories came, half a dozen in quick succession—birthday party, a skinned knee, a mouthful of baby food spit clear across the room.

Elias blinked away the images and focused on Kirill's eyes. "A child like you," he countered. "But you don't know who you were as a child, do you?" Tit for tat. If Kirill wanted to play press-the-emotional-button, it was only fair for Elias to play, too.

"Not like me," Kirill said. "I joined by choice. It was an act when I said otherwise. One you fell for."

"I won't make that mistake again."

"You won't need to worry about it," said Kirill. "Everything I say from now on will be the truth. We've recalled your son from his current operation. He's here right now, waiting to find out the reason for his change in assignment. We can tell him his recall was an unfortunate mistake, and administrative error, and send him on his way." He paused. "Or we can hurt him."

The words were a knife. They tore open Elias's memory center, and Elias bled.

He bled images of Sammy as an infant, and the woman curled in the corner of his bunker with burn scars up and down her arms.

He bled Sammy at two years old, and a man dragged away screaming through an abandoned industrial park as Elias watched helplessly, the man's eyes warning him to stay hidden.

Sammy at four, and a corpse facedown in brackish water, her skin pockmarked with electrical burns, her eyes gouged from her head.

Sammy at six—

Elias took a shaky breath. Then another.

"I shook you up that badly yesterday, did I?" His voice trembled. So did his hands.

"Don't give yourself so much credit. I set the recall in motion yesterday morning, before we spoke." Kirill gave him a thin smile that wasn't a smile. "I told you I wouldn't let you play cat and mouse forever."

The memories kept going. His shaky breathing exercises couldn't hold them at bay. He tried anyway.

Inhale for four, exhale for four.

Sammy at eight.

Inhale for four, exhale for four.

A man staring into his eyes in the bunker, eyes haunted. I was with them for two years. Do you know the kinds of things they do to make a person cooperate?