Collateral Damage

Chapter 3

Explaining to the adults at the front desk of the hospital wasn't as hard as Col thought it would be. However, she did get a surprise when they tried to admit her into one of the rooms. She insisted she was fine, and eventually they led them to the room they were looking for. As they stepped in, Col glanced at her reflection in the window that was parallel to the bed. No wonder they wanted to put her in for care. She looked awful.
"Now, he's sleeping, so I'd wait until he wakes up to visit. Hours end at 8 pm." The old nurse recited.
"Thank you." Col replied politely, but as soon as the nurse left, she turned towards the boy.
"Psst. Oi, uh... well, I forgot your name. Wake up."
"Col! Don't be so mean!" Texas whined.
"Sh." She replied curtly, slightly shaking the boy. "Wake up."
Frustrated, she growled and shook him harder. He bolted up, wincing in pain. His eyes looked around confused, and then settled on Col, widening in recognition.
"You. You're Alpha C—You've got to leave."
"I'm here too." Texas huffed. He just tilted his head like a confused puppy, and then finally bent it in apology.
"I'm sorry. But you've really got to go. Visiting hours are almost over. Could you hand me my plate please?"
Confused, Col looked over to the plate on the small side table connected to the bed. As she picked it up, she noticed a small slip of paper under it. It read in rushed handwriting:
"Please. Be careful. They're watching. Disease mutated. Dangerous. Not an accident. Bottom of tray, e-file. Dr. Eve wanted you to have it. I don't know how much I can help. Once I am back at base, will not be able to help. Will be in hospital for one more week then home for a month. Access to everything. Memorize address below if help needed. Destroy note."
"I'm afraid I'm awfully hungry. It was nice of you to visit, cousins. Although, you might want to wear your hoods when you walk out. It's awfully ehem... windy."
He pulled his mop of brown hair into a messy little ponytail that barely held, taking care to favor his bullet wound. His bangs nearly covered his determined blue eyes.
Col nodded, and motioned for the others to leave. Suddenly, she remembered his name.
"Thank you. Elian."
He jumped and reddened at the show of recognition, but not before she left the room.
Col, walked down the hallway, trying to avoid looking at the walls, keeping her eyes down, something she never thought she'd catch herself doing. She nearly scolded herself, but quickly told herself: Anything to stop them. To stop the memories.
But they didn't. They just rushed on, playing a symphony of fear and pain. She had lied to Texas in a way. She told her that she was only at the bar for the fights, but that wasn't true. She had tried to drink, even though Marie avoided giving alcohol to her, if she begged enough, she eventually gave in.
Col remembered the first night she had drank too much, and how hard it was to sneak back in. Security was tight (after all, the agency tried to avoid the government itself) and if she had been anyone less that Col, she wouldn't have made it back. When she crawled into her barracks, Texas was sound asleep. Col considered waking her up and telling her everything, but she would never understand why Col did it. She'd think it was a desire to be normal, but that wasn't true. It was to forget. Her whole life had been built of lies. Courage, sneaking out, pretending she was okay, and of course, the worst lie of all—that her parents would return.
We love you my pretty little thing. They'd coo when she was younger. Before she began to show how different she was. Col had no interest in the things normal kids did. As a matter of fact, she had gotten sent to the principal's office in fifth grade for pushing a kid off of the ten foot jungle gym because they bullied her. Of course, no one listened. That was when—Col assumed anyway—her parents began looking into her eyes and no longer seeing a pretty little thing, but a monster. A cold, unforgiving winter.
That didn't stop Col from trying to fit in. She would wear the horrid dresses her mother picked out, and even the shoes that made her feet bleed. She would go to work gatherings with her father, but he looked at her disgustedly whenever she spoke out. Everyone assured her parents that it was just a kid thing, but then, her mother got pregnant. From the moment they knew, they had gone to take her for a "ride." Col remembered everything. She was studying in a book about martial arts.
"Am I going to be a big sister?" She asked when she got in the car.
Her mother smiled coldly with eerily blue eyes, unlike Col's grey ones.
"Oh yes, Genevieve." Col cringed.
After she began being too much of what they didn't want, they stopped calling her "pretty little thing" and "Gen." They began to call her horrible names, and no longer said that they loved her. That's why it chilled her to the bone when they arrived at the asylum, in front of her room. She clung to her mother, but she just curled her lip.
"Mother, don't leave me! Please! I promise I'll do better!"
"Don't worry, they'll take good care of you here." She purred. "I'll be back for you."
Her father had tried to pull her away, but when she wouldn't let go, they claimed she was having one of her "fits" and they slapped her in a straight jacket and a padded room. Just as they went to shut the door, her parents looked at her as one might look at a grimy piece of gum on their shoe.
"All you've caused in our lives," her mother began, her hand on her pregnant belly. "is collateral damage." The door slammed shut.
Col's breathing picked up, and the room spun. She was snapped back to reality, and she was standing in the middle of the hallway on the third floor. Texas, Marie, and Amara turned to look at her.
"What's wrong?" Marie asked. "Do I need to get a wheelchair?"
"No." Col snapped.
"What on earth is wrong?" Amara growled back, defending Marie.
Texas spit something back at Amara, but Col couldn't hear. All she could do was wait and watch as the walls trapped her in, smaller, smaller. She was beginning to attract attention. Col barreled through the group and ran down the stairs to the first floor, the others in pursuit, calling after her. She broke into the rainy afternoon, her hood falling from her head. She was heaving when the black started to creep in. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was men in black suits racing towards her.
*****
"What was that all about?" Someone hissed.
"Hush."
"Honestly, we should've left her there. All she did was slow us down. We almost got caught." As Col regained her wits, she realized that it was Amara and Texas speaking.
"Shut up, will you?" Texas replied. "Besides, I didn't see you help lug her into the sewer against the Project, and I didn't hear you complaining when she saved your sorry life from that biker in the Ring."
       Col's eyes flitted open, scanning her surroundings. She was beginning to regain feeling in her limbs, and she was laying flat on her back, her hair spread out around her head like a pale halo.  They were in a dark tunnel, and a faint light skipped across the faces of her friends. Col heard a faint drop of water in the distance, and groaned, trying to sit up. Marie was the first to notice, and she rushed to her side.
"Lay back down, you'll hurt yourself."
Col brushed her off.
"I'm fine." She snapped, heaving herself up.
"What happened?" Texas asked.
"Exhaustion probably. I'm tired."
Amara and Marie bought it, and Amara shuffled into the darkness. Texas bit her lip, but said nothing.
"Come on. We've got to get back." Amara commanded. Marie lingered for a moment, and then followed loyally. Texas reached and helped Col stand.
"What happened?" She prodded.
"I told you—"
"Don't lie. You don't get tired. You are a hardened Alpha. They didn't allow it."
Col winced at the word "didn't."
"Don't talk like that. They don't allow it. I'm still an Alpha."
Texas huffed, exasperated.
"My point exactly! Would you please tell me?"
"No. Now leave me alone."
Texas swept herself in front of Col, blocking her path and view of Marie and Amara.
"Listen, what if this happens again? Next time, when there isn't an escape route? Or if we aren't around to carry you away?"
Col paused.
"It won't happen again, move."
"Col—"
"Texas!" Col snapped. "Enough!"
Hurt made it's way to her features and she turned, walking after the others to lick her wounds. Col relaxed.
She's right you know. Her inner voice replied.
Shut up. I killed you a long time ago, Genevieve. Col responded.
Great. I'm talking to myself.
But Texas was right. What if it happened again? What if she was alone?
All of these thoughts milled about in her head until they reached a ladder leading to the outside. Sunlight no longer filtered through the holes, but Col could see the faint speckle of stars across the black expanse of sky. They were about a mile from the bar, and Col could see it in the distance as they emerged from below a streetlight. Marie was the first to speak.
"Uh, guys? You might want to take a look at this."
Marie gestured to a group of papers on the pole.
"Found dog?" Amara asked.
"What—no, stupid! Below it!"
Col glanced where Marie was staring. Stapled to the wood were two sheets of paper that Col read out loud.
"Wanted: Genevieve 'Col' Reid. Wanted for destruction of government property, deliberate disobedience of authority, stealing government property, sharing of confidential information, resisting arrest, attacking a federal agent, thievery of confidential information—"
"What? So because you know things, they call it stealing?" Texas raged. Col continued.
"Disrupting the process of obtaining a wanted criminal, and other crimes against the government. Government? That's a lie!"
"What else does it say?" Marie asked.
"Danger to the public. Is to be taken into custody alive. Practice extreme caution."
Col studied the rest and read it to herself.
Age: 17
Eye color: gray
Hair: long, thin, blond
Height: 5'7"
Scars: numerous, one large under left eye. Severed right eyebrow.
Other identifying attributes: Military tattoo on right side of neck. Believed to be in memory to a deceased family member. Prison marking 00001 on right arm.
"So, I am a depressed delinquent, danger to the public, who is also mourning a family member. That's their story?"
"What does mine say?" Texas asked a little too excitedly.
"Wanted: Texas Taylor. Wanted for aiding wanted criminal Genevieve Reid. Moderate danger. To be taken into custody alive."
Col just stood there, taking in the sight. They even had a police drawing of her. (They wouldn't ever allow any photos to be taken of the Project subjects.) Col studied her high cheekbones, and scars. Her hair framing her face and tattoo. It wouldn't be hard to find them, the artists made a near perfect ode to their features.
"Did you notice something?" Texas smiled.
"What's that?" Amara growled.
"They don't have your faces. Marie, Amara, that means—"
"They don't know you're helping us yet, but now everyone knows what we look like. We've gotta change it up a bit. Military pants and dog-tags won't do anymore." Col answered.
"I wore a suit—"
"That won't work either. Come on, let's get back to the bar."
Col ripped the posters from the post, and crumpled them up. Stuffing them in her pocket, she began to walk towards Marie's building.
After about twenty minutes, they reached the porch, and Marie unlocked the door. With a push that was a little to forceful, Amara tumbled in and grabbed a bottle of gin. Col promptly snatched it and put it away.
"What was that?" Amara roared.
"We need you sober. Go take a bath and get some rest. Tomorrow morning, seven years of drinking is going to catch up to you."
Amara turned without protest and began walking to the back room where the stairs led to the living part of the building.
Marie took a deep breath.
"Don't bother looking under the floorboards, I already took your stash, and your keys to the liquor cabinet." Marie called after her. In the distance, Col could thuds as Amara tumbled back down the steps and screamed curses. Then she began to just scream for a solid three minutes, until finally you heard her walk back upstairs, slamming her uncoordinated feet on every step.
"So what now?" Texas asked.
"Now, you take some food and prepare. You'll be holed up there for a while. If I close my shop irregularly, people will start sniffing around. Clean up, you might want to change up a few things appearance-wise. I've got a few things in my bathroom upstairs. Leave Amara be, but there are two spare rooms, and some earplugs in each. Use 'em. She snores. There is a laptop in my room that you can use, and Amara has one somewhere in that pigsty. You can find it tomorrow when she's helping me."
"Okay. I'll work on putting up some major firewalls, and doing a little hacking on your computer tonight so we can take a look at the chip tomorrow."
Col reached in her pocket past the crumpled posters, and clutched the chip. She almost forgot about it.
"No. Tonight, you will clean yourselves up, and get to bed. You'll have plenty of time to do all your secret agent stuff tomorrow. I'll work on information with my customers, but that'll be tomorrow."
"I guess I am a little tired..." Texas admitted, and she paced upstairs to the rooms.
"I'm not tired." Col began, but halted when Marie gave her the look that Old Man always gave her. She quickly recovered. "It'll only be for a bit. I'll change a few things and then I'll get to bed, alright?"
"Fine."
As Col ascended the stairs she heard Marie's maternal voice behind her.
"Goodnight."
Col stopped dead in her tracks. When was the last time someone treated her like a child? Not just any child, but their own? Fleeting moments with Larren, but that felt like a life time ago.
"Goodnight, Marie." And with that, Col slinked to her room. She stopped and allowed her eyes to scan the simple layout of the room.
There was a small bed with white sheets and a hideous lime green comforter. The pillows looked too fluffed, and were leaning against the scuffed bedside table that looked like it hadn't seen visitors in a while. Books leaned perfectly against the lamp, which had no lampshade, and seemed to be the only light in the room. The old, yellowed walls looked like they had once been white, and they were void of windows. The only thing that seemed to decorate them was an empty picture frame and a few outlets. It was perfect.
Col wanted nothing more than to sink into the springy old bed and sleep until all of this was over, but she didn't allow herself the luxury of comfort. She threw off her hood onto the bed, and walked to the bathroom. She flicked the switch and saw that it was just as bare as the main room, and she was thankful. It was perfectly homey to her, as the barracks were very empty. Even this was a luxury to her. She walked over to the mirror and ran her fingers along the bottom until she found a latch that forced it to swing open and reveal random items inside. She grabbed a pair of scissors and red hair dye, and got to work on her hair, copying the techniques she remembered her mother (Col shivered) using when she would come with her to the salon.
Why do people change, mama? She would always ask.
Because they want to look beautiful. Her mother would always answer, casting Col a meaningful look of disgust. It wouldn't do you any harm either.
Finally, Col looked at the girl staring back at her. Long, choppy bangs nearly covered her eyes, and tendrils of hair swept across her cheeks, covering her small scar under her left eye. Her eyebrows were entirely concealed, to her delight. She had always secretly despised the cut on her right brow, severing it. Her hair ended in blood red tips around her neck, just long enough to cover her tattoo.
Next, she grabbed as many of Marie's earrings she could find and began putting them in her ears, not even flinching at the pinches she put herself through. She only bled twice: when she was putting hoops in the cartilage. She wasn't worried about infection because she had already cleaned them with alcohol and cotton balls.
Then, she carefully pulled her dog-tags off and placed them on the sink. Col then glanced at the shower, and decided to allow herself one comfort from the stress of the day.
After she got out of tub, she wrapped herself in a towel and explored the contents of the drawers next to the bed in the main room. There she found a black, form-fitting long sleeve shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans. She slipped them on and laid herself down upon the bed, not bothering to cover up.
From the bathroom, she could see her reflection staring back at her. Genevieve wouldn't agree with this look at all. Then, Col allowed herself to smile and close her eyes in an attempt to sleep.