Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 29

A harsh whisper under the sound of rain plinking on the motel window. "I am in control of my reactions. I will not run from world."

Even cleaned with three disinfectant wipes, the gun felt like a dirty weight in Sandra's hand. Perhaps the bullets made her feel filthy, or the idea of metal pellets punching through flesh; bone and blood spilling everywhere. But she kept her grip on the handle and pointed the gun at the beaming television in the motel room. On the screen a weatherman pointed out the mudslides up to the north. She imagined pulling the trigger and sending the bullet through glass and wires to hit the clouds on the Doppler radar.

Wouldn't do her any good, she couldn't control the weather. But she could control a gun. At least in theory.

"I am stronger than a speck. I am smarter than a virus."

She remembered the loading and the pressure of recoil, but she had never pointed a gun to anything more substantial than a black silhouette on a sheet. It had been required for the Watch, even for accountants, and she had hated it. But the skill would serve her now.

Sandra unloaded the magazine and put the gun back away in its case. She would have to kill. She wanted Massaru to hurt, and death hurt. She wanted revenge. But mostly she wanted to make sure she had something good to tell Retten when she got back in contact with him. She had fled her job the moment she knew Martin Zachs had been caught and hadn't contacted Retten since. That had been a bad idea. She felt lost without Retten to guide her, to tell her she was stronger than her environment, to say she could overcome the diseases that crawled around her. He had made her feel more another speck lost in the mess of violent biology of the world. She kept his mantra close, like a prayer.

And she wanted to make him proud.

"I am in control of my reactions. I will not run from the world."

Sandra picked up the phonebook again and scanned for car rentals. The beaten up hatchback had gotten her far, but it wouldn't make it through the rain and the mud. She needed something bigger. And soon.

***

Dinner over, Massaru took Ram aside to talk. Will stood awkwardly by the sink in the kitchen, hoping to dry a dish or two for Paro. Louis kept well out of the way of the woman, knowing his place as a guest, staying in the guest room and pulling at the borrowed shirt. It clung too much to his shoulders, like everything else of Will's. At least they didn't have to sleep in the same bed, especially if they were to take shifts. He fetched the gun from the suitcase and tucked in the back of his borrowed jeans, making them tighter, and then tied Will's jacked around his waist to hide it. Gun, knife. They would make due unless Paro had a machine gun in a cupboard.

The rain pattered on. Louis could hear Massaru and Ram from the other room.

"I didn't know when you'd come back!"

"So you stall your life on my account?"

"I can't move on as if you don't matter!"

Louis blinked hard, resisting the urge to rub his eyes as the contacts slid.

So Massaru had expected life to go on without him?

Will staggered into the guest room and slowly collapsed on the bed; Paro had shooed him out of the kitchen.

"I'll take the first shift," said Louis quietly. "Four hours."

"Armed?" asked Will in the same hushed tone.

Louis motioned to his back. "Better than a bronze vase."

"Ancient armor and weapons were made of bronze."