Running Dry (11 page)

When I open the door Officer Fulton is on the other side.

"Good Morning, Private Brenner," he says, formally.

"Nice to see you, sir."

"It's been a while.  How is the assignment?"

"Well, sir.  Thank you."

"Great.  Well, I just had a few errands to run on this side of the base and I thought I'd hand deliver this mail to you.  It must have gone to the dorms and got lost in the shuffle," he says, handing over a sealed envelope.

"I appreciate that," I say, taking it and noticing another piece of small paper folded and stuck to the backside of it.

"Okay," he says, looking somewhat uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the inside of my apartment.

"Oh, did you want to come in?" I say, realizing I should have offered that up earlier.

"No, I've got to get back before my first training session.  But I wanted to invite you to my place for dinner.  Say Wednesday night?  You’re off that night.  I checked the schedule.'

'Oh.  Sure.  That sounds good.'

'Great.  I left my address on a slip of paper there for you," he says, "See you then."

Inside, I take the envelope to the couch and can tell immediately from the handwriting that it's a letter from Bekka.  I set aside the address and tear the letter open. 

Dear Zane,

You probably know by now that I am not a runner.  Did it surprise you as much as it did me?  I wish I would have prepared myself more for the possibility.  Looking back, I feel so stupid.  But I've had a few days to sit with it now and you know what?  This might surprise you, but I feel a weird sense of freedom, in a way I never saw coming.  I'm actually looking forward to starting over.  I'm even happy with the way things have turned out.   

I've realized that you and I didn't always see eye to eye.  I have decided it's best that we are parting ways.  It would have happened eventually anyway, right?  We are different people and were growing more different everyday.  Things had to end.  I know it sounds crazy but even after everything, I still want to do right by the war and my parents, so I intend to put everything into this job because I think that's what they would have wanted me to do.  I hope you also find happiness in your life. 

Always,

Bekka

I read the letter three times in total before I set it down.  Not much of what she said makes a whole lot of sense to me, but I have a feeling she was in a crazed state after finding out she wasn't going to fulfil her lifelong dream.  I wonder what that would be like, being told you couldn't do what you had wished and planned from a very early age.  I feel bad for her, but jealous in the same breath that I never had a goal or focus so deep in life, at least until now, with the Resistance.

The fact that in just a couple of sentences she somehow managed to dismiss our entire relationship, the connection that got me through my life up until this point, leaves me crushed and frustrated.  Apparently losing me didn't seem to have a big impact on her.  I wish I could say the same.  I feel like an idiot now for the amount of brooding I've done on her behalf the last few weeks. 

Is she right?  Would we have only continued to grow apart?  Pondering it any longer is useless, because we’ll never know, so I tuck the letter into my dresser drawer and lie down on my bed.  Deflated and exhausted, I decide to skip all of my chores and sleep the day away.

Chapter 16

Bekka

I'm sitting in a small cafe on the corner near my apartment, observing a young couple arguing about the rent.  I'm taking a cue from Zane and using a notebook, pretending to be a writer.  My recent training was short and mostly practical stuff, so I'm forced to think back to some of my espionage lessons from Mr. Daniels.  I recall something about PERK: Pay attention to the things happening around you.  Ears always turned on.  Remember details.  Key pieces of info go back to your agent during your monthly meet-ups.   

So far, I've done nothing except sit in my apartment and memorize the junk in my packets.  Maps with areas of the city, lists of schools, directories, and several charts and graphs for how the city operates as a whole.  I have to have a keen understanding of who the new me is and where I am at all times.

The city itself is more or less a carbon copy of North Sacto in terms of the physical appearances--a lot of run down structures and gritty, dry streets, except their motto seems to be TURN OFF THE TAP!  I'm fascinated by the differences in normal, everyday life and I'm jotting them down since I'm supposed to pretend to be writing something anyway.  For example, they still use the infrastructure and plumbing of the old city.  They don't distribute water tickets or even seem to have a system for rationing beyond the fact that once you've used your monthly allowance, your pipes don't flow.  It’s taken some getting used to for a girl who doesn't know how much water is actually coming out of the pipes.  I like being able to see it sitting in the basin; makes more sense to me. 

The vibe of the people here is even more startling.  The whole place feels like the areas of North Sacto that I avoided running in, like the huffer neighborhoods.  Even during the daytime hours everyone feels a little more reckless and angry, which is not super comforting, especially being on my own.  I keep telling myself I've only been here for a short time and I’m probably just sensitive to the change, but my anxiety is definitely high.  And it doesn't help that I don't have much to do except observe at this point, waiting for my meetings with my agent to begin.  I'm used to staying busy with school, or running, or hanging with Zane.  Now these things are all dead to me.  I've spent a lot of time lately shoving those thoughts out of my head as fast as they surface, which is still pretty often. 

I was instructed to blend in and try to make some friends, but it hasn't happened yet.   The blending in part is no problem.  People here dress fairly low key and don't seem to get into factions like the ones we have.  Not many tattoos or purple haired freaks here.  Seems more like the style is homely and unkempt.  At least I have the plain Jane thing down.              

Making friends, on the other hand, has never been my strongest suit.  I've scoped the local stores and restaurants nearby, but as far as interjecting myself into other people's business, I have found I'm not good at it.  The few friends I did have in North Sacto, well, I'm realizing, they chose me.  It doesn't help that I'm scared I will say something wrong and blow my cover.

The orientation leader said I should come up with a job that I'm interested in and let my agent know at our first meeting.  One of the big differences between the two cities is that people don't train for eighteen years here the way we do over there.  Once they finish school, they just apply for employment at places of interest to them.  They get points from me on that.  If I had been able to make my own choice, I wouldn't be in this situation.  It is surprising, though; if people get to choose what they want to do, then why do they all seem so miserable?  Maybe North Sacto's equation for assignments was better than I thought.

The voices of the young couple sitting at the table next me begin to elevate as they

continue discussing their money troubles. "Listen, Lance, if it were up to me, you would take the second job and none of this would be an issue," the woman says.  She can't be much older than I am, but she looks pretty beaten down by life already, with a rough face and dull eyes. 

"If I do that, then we will never see each other.  I'm starting to wonder if that isn't what you want anyway,” he replies, dejectedly.

"Oh, come on.  Don't start with me!"

"Is there someone else, Paulette?  I just want to know."

Paulette’s voice fills with sharp irritation,"No Lance, I'm not going to tell you again.  This is simply about keeping the roof over our heads, okay?  I'm so tired of this argument."

"I'm tired of you pushing me away!"  I begin to feel sorry for poor Lance.

"If you would just man up and take the second job, I wouldn't be," Paulette says.

"Yeah, because you wouldn't see me enough to be pushing!  God, Paul…"

Both of them sit quietly for about five minutes before the whole conversation starts all over again.  I don't think I can listen to it one more time, so I close up my notebook and head back to my apartment.

Zane

I dress in my civilian clothes and stop at the shop on the corner, using several saved up water tickets, I get a bottle of alcohol before I head over to Fulton's apartment for dinner.  I have no idea what to expect since I don't really know the real Fulton as much as I'd like, but I’m looking forward to having a bit more time in private with him.  I have a bunch of questions about the Resistance and about my brother. 

His apartment is on the top floor of one of the military dorms on base.  I climb the stairs and begin to feel nervous for some reason.  I'm noticing a theme where this guy is constantly leading me into situations in which I sweat profusely before each meeting.

I attempt to air my armpits out a little before I knock on his door.  While I'm flapping my arms like a weird animal, a young girl of maybe three or four opens the door with a huge smile on her dirty face.  I check the number on the door with the paper in my hand.  Both display number 324. 

"Hi, Zane!" the little girl with messy brown hair says in a high-pitched voice.  She keeps the door open just enough for her tiny body to wedge into the open space.

"Um, hi." I try to look past her, but I only glimpse some movement from the kitchen area of the apartment.  The little girl just stands, smiling at me, titling her little head from side to side rapidly.

Then I hear Fulton's voice yell from a room deeper in the apartment, "Come on in, Zane."

The little girl stays locked in her position, not offering clearance into the apartment.  Unsure of what to do, I make a weird face at her.  She giggles but keeps her body wedged in the door opening.

"Charlotte, let him in, please."  This voice comes from the stranger in the kitchen.

"K, Mommy," she says and slams the door shut in my face.

I stand there for a minute trying to make heads or tails of this, when Fulton appears in front of me.

"Hey, sorry about that.  Terrible fours are happening here.  Come in."

"I didn't know you had kids," I stammer.

"Kid.  Singular."  Said kid is now hiding behind Fulton, grabbing onto his right leg.  Pulling her from his limb, he says, "This is Char."

"Hi, Char," I say.

She repeats the same face which I made at her a second before, adds her tongue and some spit to it and runs out of the entry into the kitchen.

"Cute," I say to Fulton, handing him the bottle I brought.

"Yep."

I follow him to the small kitchen area where he introduces me to his wife, another person I had no idea existed.

"This is Samantha," he says.  She keeps setting things on the table, but looks up and says warmly, "Nice to meet you, Zane.  I've heard a lot about you."

"Are we ready to sit here, or should Zane and I have a drink first?" Fulton asks, holding up the bottle I brought.

"You go ahead.  It will be a few minutes still."

"Sounds good," Fulton says, leading me to his couch.  I sit while he pours us two glasses. 

He hands me the drink and sits across from me on a chair.   "So," he says, "Thanks for coming.  How’s the new job going?"

"Still adjusting," I say.

"I understand.  The underground is rough.  I don’t envy you."

"I really can't get over the fact that you’re married.  And have a kid.  That is...wow!"

"Yeah.  Well, listen, do me a favor.  They don't know, you know, about the whole Resistance thing." he says quietly.

"Not even..." I glance toward his wife in the dining area.

"No.  It's better this way.  So, let's keep it casual."

"Okay," I say.  I should be shocked he is keeping something so big from his wife, but nothing about this guy shocks me much anymore.

"One last thing, the next meeting is a week from today, Tunnel Five.  Take the left path."

My mood is lifted at the thought.  "Great," I say.  I wish I could ask him a lot more questions, but his daughter comes zipping into the room wearing an oven mitt on her hand and starts hitting me with it. 

"Woah," I say. 

"Play with me, Zane!  Play with me!!!!" 

Fulton just laughs and keeps sipping his drink.  I look at him for help, but he just says, "You are on your own, buddy.  If it's not you, it's me.  I like this way better."

I hold up my hands and deflect a few of the tiny swats.  Charlotte is laughing and jumping around me, continuing to pummel me from all directions.  I get a momentary flashback of my beating with Harmond, but not in an RSS sort of way, just a reminder of what I did, how I reacted to the beating.  I almost laugh at myself as I fall from the couch cushion onto the floor.  I curl into a ball and close my eyes tight, not moving.  Charlotte stops her attack and looks at me, then at Fulton.  "What's he doing, Daddy?"