PART III

Chapter 23

Sevina

Clare’s island is a place to marvel at— a glorious mix of crumbling concrete, weathered shores of cement and stones beaten down by the waves of the ocean. Black and muddy roads are dull, empty of bright lights, holos or advertisements. Dark cement buildings dominate the streets, occasional red brick ones standing out like white dots on a black fabric. Networks of piping curl on the walls and above the streets, vibrating from the noise that dins from the clusters of factories, twice as loud as in the central city.

This place makes Coats look like a rainbow. I have no idea if it ever looked brand new, or even supposed to.

A few years ago media and politicians proudly sang about reconstructing the docks and mending the island. The crime families must’ve prevented them and the Mayor from achieving that too, just like they stopped cops from solving the real problem. Never did the media report something more than a minor mugging, thievery or a domestic violence event. As I understand now, eventually, those minor criminals end up in the ranks of homeless or in the gangs, begin snitching if they have something to snitch, get right or get arrested. This is how the crime scheme in this city works.

A controlled crime scheme.

Just how corrupt is this city?

The cramped streets glide past the car windows and Will’s words fly past my ears as she instructs me, Corrin and Terrel, who sit in the back, on how to act when facing her capo. Terrel won’t encounter any problems. Corrin, even fidgety in the holster, will pull through as long as the place is open, and warehouses are. But despite special cases like snitching cops far fewer women make it up the ranks. Aida was on her way to becoming a member of one of the families. Fit and adapted to this life, she could persuade any mobster in the blink of an eye. I, on the other hand, will have to pretend and sell my image.

I crack the window and a gush of factory waste reaches my nose. With each instructional word leaving Will’s mouth my muscles stiffen. She’s tense with her words too. Her position is weak. She’s told her capo she was kidnapped and we helped her, but since she had to be saved in the first place we’ll be looked at skeptically and perhaps even weaken her position.

In the rear-view mirror Corrin clears his throat and adjusts his scarf. Will took us to one of the underground doctors and we both were ordered not to partake in unnecessary action. Thankfully, Moira’s brother missed my ribs and Will did a professional and short stroke, without much damage to Corrin’s neck.

Corrin leans forward to the front. “Why was my father killing innocent families? Those lawyers and all?”

“Well, if I knew Sevina would’ve told you already,” Will shoots back, then cools. “Who knows? It’s a huge network. Lots of people available. Tons of secrets. Everyone’s disposable in a city of twenty-five million. And everyone’s ready to save their own skin not to end up one. I’m a small part of this… scheme, in the lowest possible position. And I’d bet your family is far from the strongest ones out there.”

“Which one is?” I ask. Someone’s always in charge of the others. Someone always listens to somebody.

Will gives a one-shouldered shrug. “No idea. Bosses are on another level. All of them different and sneaky bastards. Some employ us, some don’t. Some undercover as politicians, businessmen. Some, I bet you see on TV, but no one touches them. Probably, no one even knows.”

I catch myself in disbelief. All this time this crime swarm was right under our noses, unimaginable and unbeatable. That’s nuts!

“So which family’s the strongest one you know?” Aida’s voice comes over from the car’s console. She and Quint are following us in the van, our cars connected via commlink. “Perhaps we’d get better jobs from them.”

“The strongest ones don’t hire people like you, kid,” Will says. “There’s a rumor of a family that supplies other bosses.”

“Supplies? Supplies with what?” Corrin asks.

“Not your average trading, but something more vital. And how would I know? You got to ask your daddy when we get him. Or Sevina, better look him in the eyes.”

“I will,” I say. The lives of all those men I saw mingle in one revolting, sickening blur, slowly but surely fading. It means my powers are like a muscle; the more I use them the better I get at it, yet despite withstanding more pressure this time until I passed out I must’ve been acting out of myself in that dark room, unable to control that much horrifying information. But now my stomach’s lighter and as I glance at Will, Corrin and Terrel in the rear-view mirror, I understand. After all those years I spent withdrawing from others it’s effortless to realize that the ease thrives from the people by my side. They know my abilities and they still smile, still care. I don’t have to hide.

The creepy girl is not that creepy after all.

Sharing my abilities with Rovy, Corrin, and Will was one of the best choices I’ve ever made. Who cares if I’m mental as long as I’m useful, as long as I help.

We’re already one level up. Not much left till we find Dan and, in a blink, it’ll be over. What am I going to do once our mission’s done? Sure as I’m alive I won’t sit on a sofa and pretend my powers don’t exist like I did before. I’ll have to continue helping people. Somehow…

The warehouse we round a turn by is an enormous two-story building; a giant block of concrete with another smaller, administration building adjacent to it.

We cross the alley to a ten-slot parking lot tightly surrounded by other warehouses. Bay doors run along the back wall of our warehouse, one of them rolled up, revealing an empty car repair shop and a garage.

Will parks outside and Aida and Quint skid to a stop next to us. Before I lower my hand on the handle Corrin grips my shoulder. “Wait!”

We all freeze as if bracing for impact.

“What?” Aida hisses over the comm, her grumpy face turned at us behind the van’s window.

“My family owns this warehouse, right?” Corrin releases my shoulder.

“Yeah.” Will faces the front.

“And the boxes are inside?”

“Yes.”

“So these boxes? They’re not ours for sure?”

“Boss’s renting the warehouses for the shipments of other families. One way of trading.” Will turns over her shoulder. “What? You scared?”

“We don’t have to be recruited yet.” Corrin lets the gibe slide past. “Will, do you oversee the shipments?”

“From time to time.”

I pivot in my seat. I think I know what he’s implying.

“What would happen… if we burned one?” A wrinkle forms between Will’s brows at Corrin’s words, whether at the brilliance of the idea or its utter insanity.

“Are you insane?” Aida’s yell bursts out of the console, sending shivers over us.

“No, no, listen!” Corrin throws his palms out before anyone speaks. “I’ve been thinking how we could accelerate this process and not have to kill anyone. Instead of going to them, we could make them come to us. If we burned something or inflicted any damage someone would have to investigate. Killing everybody would be illogical as no one would know who did it. No one knows we exist.”

“And occurrence such as big. Dan’s most likely to go asking around,” I say.

Corrin brightens. “Yes, it’s an enormous chance Father would send Dan. Will would be able to meet him, or better yet, he’d come here!”

“We’re talking about messing up mafias stuff, are you daft in the head?” Aida screams. “Terrel, tell them I’m right!”

Terrel gapes—

“Sort of, Corrin’s right,” Will speaks, surprising us all. “It’d save time, and the lives of possibly innocent people, which you’d have to kill if my capo took you in.” Will doesn’t want to kill no less than me and Corrin.

To our right, in the van, Aida flings her hands in desperation.

“What about the security, though?” Quint’s voice, and I see Aida smack him across the head.

“It’s a little private dock which Boss too rents, where other families’ shipments wait for ‘clearance’ before they reach the warehouses. It’s automated.”

“No locks?” I ask.

“There are locks, but I and my partners sometimes oversee crates being delivered so I have the access codes.”

“Cameras? Motion detectors?” Terrel grunts.

“Only around the perimeter. Though it’ll still register the time we came in that doesn’t change anything. I can muster a jamming device.”

“How?” I ask.

“Using you gangers of course. I’ll hire someone from the other gang to buy one for me. No one will know.”

In the back seat, Terrel folds his arms on his chest. “It seems too easy.”

“It is!” Aida screams.

“It is.” Will confirms. “Because no one in their right mind would do this. No simple mugger or thief. The gangs are under control. Everyone is under control. Cops are paid off. Hiring security would cost more and be counterproductive. It would only pique interest where it shouldn’t be piqued.”

“But other families?” Corrin says. “Don’t they compete? Are all of them that peaceful?”

“I don’t know. Your daddy must be a good diplomat. But,” Will pauses, “there are other risks.”

“What risks?” I ask.

“First of all we might start a little crime war.” Her level tone doesn’t reflect the severity of the situation.

“A little war?” Terrel alarms.

“Boss will lose a client. If something burns and no one knows who did it how trustful of each other do you think the bosses are gonna be?” She explains. “Secondly, we’ll be putting my life and the lives of my partners at risk. I could time it so I have a day off and another man from my capo’s people oversees the shipment. They’ll go after him when the stuff burns.”

“We can’t pin it on anyone,” Corrin declares.

“Well, if you want to keep your only asset in this stupid mission, you’ll have to pin it on someone else. That’s how it works, kid. Better them than me. At least those thugs have done some bad. I’ll sacrifice one scumbag to save five more nephews and mothers.”

I want to back Corrin up, but Will’s right. All those men, human beings trying to survive. Yes. But all of them terrible scumbags and murderers. True too. We’d ask them to join us, but it would create more ruckus and prolong the plan.

“It has to be done fast though. If we drag too long, boss might become paranoid and go on a rampage,” Will says.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering burning mafia’s shit?” Aida whispers, her expression sinking.

We fall into silence, each of us processing the magnitude of our actions. But we all already agreed to help Corrin.

“We must risk it.” Clutching on my seatbelt, I break the silence. “It’s the fastest way. We won’t spend months sucking up to your man. If, of course,” I look at Will, “you’re willing to.” Will’s the one in most danger here.

Will rubs her forearm, her face scrunched but determined. “I can always introduce you to my capo later. Let’s burn that stuff and hope your brother shows up. All for?” She scans our faces.

Aida lifts two middle fingers and presses them against the window of her van, flipping us off. But she doesn’t say anything. She despises this, but she’s as desperate as Terrel, desperate to survive.

Roaring the engine to life, Will snickers. “Don’t be so grim. I gave you all the fancy guns to die with, didn’t I?”

I guess we’re at that point where we make death sound poetic.

…

Three days from now we’re at the docks far south of the city. The drive here took over two hours. After being constrained to the Coats Havason has never appeared this big before. Unfamiliar roads and places, different infrastructures and landmarks make Coats feel like its own little city. And it took the government under thirty years to build all this?

All five of us sit jammed in the front of the van, parked in a vast lot among other vehicles. Quint squats between the seats and his jaw hangs open as in the distance he observes a giant hovercrane of a machine, loading off steel crates from the cargo ship.

“Slap me silly. It’s true,” he pipes gruffly. “They indeed use hovercranes for loading.”

“It’s not exactly hovercraft.” Corrin, who shares the chair with me, can’t help himself. “It still sits on the ground while its metal hand’s powered by engines, see? One could lift an entire loaded ship out of the water with only two of these.”

Hover-tech, some call it air-tech, is at its dawn, but it’s a fast-rising dawn. After the cold wars the world was so fond of only the military and insanely rich people use the newest tech, while civilians live with the old-school stuff, seeing nothing more than a rare hovercar gliding by on the street.

“You wish you’d seen a real aircraft.” Excitement smears Corrin’s lips.

“Like choppers?” Aida says, sitting on an edge of the driver’s seat. Terrel takes the bigger part.

“No… well, yes, but those are sleek airships, maneuverable in all directions, laser weaponized. I once visited this weaponry-expo with all this impressive stuff there.”

“Oh right, someone here is used to sleeping in silk sheets,” Aida grunts.

Corrin allows her to savor her response for a minute before his tone drops into a buttery caress. “When I’m the boss I’ll share them with you.”

Terrel looks cross at him and Quint lets out a whistle. Aida straightens at the unexpected comeback, her cheeks flushing.

Before his trial Corrin was mischievous, he used to have fun. We haven’t trained for a while and he must be raving mad in this sluggish atmosphere all the time.

Terrel takes Corrin’s actions in stride and his words come off like a lighthearted warning to a child. “Don’t hit on my girl.” Despite being together Terrel and Aida never show any affection in front of anyone. Just like Quint hides his orientation. This is as far as relationships and personal preferences on the street go.

Corrin blows a strand of hair from his eyes and faces the front, proud of himself. I shove my hand into my pocket. “Here you go.” I extend him a thin hairband. I always carry a few with me. Along with the coins I find.

“Thank you.” Raking his fingers through his hair he ties it into a ponytail. I would notice his battle with his hair from time to time, but would always forget to offer a band.

“Okay, I know none of us brought this up.” Quint rotates his head around. “But am I the only one who finds it weird that Sevina knows all about us? Or am I crazy?”

“I’m right there with you,” Aida adds. “I try not to think about it. But if you talk,” I don’t need to face her to know she means me, “I’ll—”

“Beat me up, I know,” I spurt a laugh. Aida’s not scary anymore, even her beating I could handle.

“You’ll get used to it,” Corrin reassures them. It’d be too tiresome to try and explain in detail to them that it’s not how it works. Corrin and Will know and it’s enough.

“I’m always open to be hit on,” Quint informs us after a pause. “Just saying.” I wonder if he realizes I know what he’s so exceedingly trying to cover.

We loiter in the van till sundown, waiting for the cranes to finish their jobs and for the civilians and construction workers shuffling about to scatter. I nuzzle in the front passenger seat, listening to soft grunts from Will who tinkers with the jam-tech in the back. My hand touches my wrist but finds only cold skin. Right. Rovy’s bracelet used to sit there, giving off intangible support…

Rovy. I wonder his response if he saw me rebelling against the man who ordered his demise. Would he be proud if he knew I’m trying to fix this situation or would he call this task impossible?

Pink sunrays creep through the crates and onto the parking lot of cars, reflecting off the roofs. I cross my arms on my chest, savoring the sunlight I’ve seen so little off in recent months. No point in thinking about Rovy now.

The docks ease into darkness, broken only by sparse light poles. When the clock hits one in the morning Terrel starts the van and following Will’s instructions leaves the lot. We skid past two private docks until our van nears the right one; a field of crates segregated by a tall fence. Focused on her phone with a jamming device attached Will enters the codes wirelessly. The gates buzz, green light flashing, and slide open. I guess as we pass all the cameras crash too.

“So, after we burn the crates, and I meet your brother, what do I say?” Will asks from the back.

Corrin thinks for a minute. “First demand a one on one with him. Tell him you have valuable intel. Once he’s ready to listen, let him know I’m behind the burning and I want to meet. He’ll agree.”

“Got it.” Will confirms as she emerges through the holographic partition to the front. “Turn right here.” Terrel takes a turn between the ominous walls of metal crates, stretching for at least a mile, and weaves deeper into the metal labyrinth until Will pulls him to a stop. “Here.’

Flashlights in our hands we hop out of the van, leaving Quint to guard it. He’s still healing despite having a half-charged regenband Corrin had given him after he was stabbed.

Will motions at the row of crates. “Those five. If word among my partners is correct they should have exactly what we need.”

“Five?” Corrin casts his light at the crates. “I thought we went for one.”

“Most valuable stuff, like firearms, is rarely left out here like this. So five of those will be equal for one with firearms.”

“I don’t think your device will unlock them.” Aida tests the access panels on the crates.

“And that’s why I bought these too.” Will ferrets out five small chips from her pocket. She sticks one on the security panel and taps something on her phone. Seconds later the panel begins to melt. It seems the only way to prevent one from bypassing a lock is to hide the door. I wonder if the arms locker in Corrin’s mansion could be broken the same way. I bet it’d take hours to melt that thing.

Aida and Terrel set the chips on the other crates while Corrin and I get the canisters of gasoline from the back of the van.

With both hands Will grips the metal handle on the door and grunts, twisting it. Creaking, a dozen locks slide out of their places. Terrel helps her to pull the metal doors open.

“Boxes,” Corrin says dully, shining the light inside. “Like the ones we stored.” He glances at Terrel. Will brandishes a knife and slices one open. “Ah, yes.” Her lips curve with delight.

Wrapped stacks of paper sit in the box.

“Oh, yes, please.” Aida steps inside.

“Unbelievable this is unguarded,” I whisper in awe. “If bosses are so sure no one steals it or burns it… It means only one thing— this city is entirely run by criminals.”

Will shrugs. “Yes, pretty much.”

It’s as if someone thwacks me on the head. So what are we fighting against? Even if Dan, a man born and raised in the mafia, will be enough to stop murders of one insane boss, that doesn’t prevent bosses of other families from killing people, from exercising control and fear. If only there was a way…

Questionably, Terrel looks at the motherload. “We’re burning money?”

“I guess so.” Will slices the wrap and grips a few stacks, then gives Aida beside a look. Aida, as if she’s read her mind, slides off her sweatshirt. She ties its bottom into a knot, making a bag, and stretches it open. “As far as I know weapons go to the boss himself. As I said this is less valuable stuff we’re burning.” Will stuffs paper into the sweatshirt. “Go open the other ones.”

Terrel disappears to the other containers. I lower my canister on the ground. At the end of this adventure I hoped to ask Corrin for some repayment so I at least could start anew, but this will save me from the self-humiliating act. It’s still gonna burn.

“It’s likely fake,” Corrin says.

“Of course, it is,” Will spits. Ah, I guess I’ll have to ask him for paper after all.

His flashlight in one hand and gasoline in the other, Corrin stands still at the thrown open doors. Even on the street, even after he’s known poverty, paper means nothing to him.

After I stuff all pockets and crevices on me we take what we can and carry it into the back of the van. Other three crates are full of cash too. Only when we split the box in the last crate we find bags of white powder.

“We should take some,” Aida proposes to Terrel behind her. “Sell it for some real money.”

“You won’t have to if you stick to helping us.” I spill the gas over it. Still, with her sly hands Aida grasps two bags before they’re cloaked.

We cape it all and link it into one line, running off to each crate, and all but ceremonially stand at the end of it. Our shadows stretch deep into the aisle, framed by the white headlights of the van.

Will digs up a lighter. “A lot of friction for such a bunch of idiots to take on. Even with your all-seeing eyes, don’t you think?”

Unexplainable anger tingles inside me, anger at our failures. These people are with me. My group, relying on my powers. The only thing I cannot afford right now is all that held me back. After all, Corrin’s the leader to be, well, maybe not a leader, but someone of importance beside Dan. And I’m right here beside him.

I grin, feeling stacks of livelihood press against my body. “Not idiots. A bunch of radicals.”

Vacantly, Will hands Corrin the lighter. “Do the honors, while you still can.”

Just as unbiased, he reaches for it, cocks it open and squats, bringing it to the end of the petrol line. A blue flame bursts to life and lurches forward, branching off into a blazing tree. Smoke and fire break out of each container and a heatwave boils and ripples through the air.

Up until this point we could’ve turned back. There is no turning back now.

…

Deadened rain drums on the roof of the van, tightening my heart, reminding me of the day I opened my eyes in this city for the first time. I remember continuous static… and then a growing street noise. I sat up on a park bench, my hair and face dripping water over my thin jacket, and glanced around the street at faces… hundreds of ghostly faces, passing by without a care. The world felt like an illusion, I was awake, but without any idea of what had happened or where I am. Or who I am.

My name is Sevina.

A thin mattress I brought from the hideout saves me from the cold seeping into the van. Since we burnt the goods we decided to always have someone on guard, and tonight it’s my turn. Quint’s snoring on the bench in front of me. And Aida and Terrel took seats in the front. We’re settled in an alley, next to other cars and a gas station, a few blocks from Will’s apartment.

With nothing better to do I twist my gun in my palm and listen to the rain scraping the roof.

Three silent thumps on the van’s back door come from the outside. I unlock it. Corrin climbs in, dropping splatters all over the floor, and like the sneakiest mouse lowers his stuffed backpack into the corner. He went to the strip mall.

“Should’ve put on the hood,” I whisper.

“I like it.” From his inner pocket he pulls out a silver flask.

“Been drinking?”

“A bit.” He beckons to a spot next to me. “Can I?” I nod and he slumps by my side. “Quint gave it to me.” A faint whiff of alcohol dwells off of him, but it’s hard to determine how much he drank as the rain must’ve washed out the odor.

He offers me the flask. “No, I’m…” I trail away, then take the flask, feeling more than half of it empty. It’s been a while since I drank. Hot liquid burns my windpipe. “Ugh, that’s disgusting. What is this? Feels strong.”

“No idea.” Corrin takes a swing again. “I’ve never been drunk in my life.”

“You haven’t?”

“No. No one ever let me drink. Besides, we’re not of the drinking age yet.” I fail to restrain a smile creeping into my lips. How’s he worried about that? But maybe that’s the drink talking. “Have you?”

I tilt my head to the side, weighing whether I should lie. Corrin gapes before I talk. “No?” He flashes an enthralling smile. “You have! What was it like?”

“Much like for you now,” I murmur. “Nothing major. I and some kids at the foster care got wasted once. Stole some bottles from the overseer’s stash. It was terrible.” Corrin voices a deep and hearty laugh and I chuckle. He passes me the flask and takes off his parka, throws it on his head and ruffles it, drying his hair, then reclaims his piece of metal and drinks some more. My fingers twitch, itching to take it away. The last thing I need is another person dear to me getting hooked.

Wait… Corrin is dear to me?

He is. I won’t deny it even though it doesn’t make sense. After all, I’m getting wasted with a murderer.

A murderer…

But I’m not hateful. I relived it all too many times to count. All the guilt I saw in people’s lives; all the pain will forever keep me on track. Hate has no place in my life, it’s a hopeless cause. I can understand everyone for being terrible people because it’s a terrible world. All I can do is find each detail of it and try and fix it.

Corrin is my dear partner on the same cause.

I take the flask from him and take another sip. “The distance is around 30 feet in clear daylight for me to see the life.” I might as well share more of what he was nagging me about at the beginning of our partnership. “Reflections in the mirror don’t work on myself, don’t know about others. Digital pads do not work.”

“So I could look into your eyes through the camera?” Corrin retrieves the flask.

I exhale. “Yeah.”

“That’s great!” He barks a little too loud and I put my palms out in shushing gestures. We freeze, our eyes sliding to Quint’s dark figure. The oaf doesn’t budge and Corrin hisses to me. “If we ever separate we’ll talk over the web. And we’ll talk for hours. I’ll be Dan’s right hand, and you’ll be somewhere where you want to be. And we’ll talk for hours…”

“Oh, shut up, you’re drunk,” I snarl.

He lowers his flask and steadies himself. “So what are you going to do once we’re done?”

“I think, I’ll leave. Perhaps, begin helping people. Same way I did you.”

“Lots of work.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, browsing through each person.”

Yes… Tons of work. Perhaps, I should find a more universal way. “If you weren’t here what’d you do?”

Corrin beams at my response. It’s as if he won a lottery by receiving my question. “I never thought about it, but now I’d just talk to people all day. Maybe become an interviewer or a comedian, you know. Not that I’m good at those things, but I like them. Or I’m scared of being alone, you know.” He grimaces with another gulp. “Or I could be a trainer. Train guys and girls to fight… and stuff… and talk to them too…” and on he goes. A few swings later he’s giggling and describing things in the air with his hands. I listen to him and fuel his fun by asking him to share the pleasant memories he has. He even goes as far as citing a French line from some book. I nod as if I understand and he prattles and laughs like all those months ago in a restaurant, a kid pouring his heart out to people.

Then his jest gets to me. “What were you smiling about when I was bandaging your neck?” I ask.

“Oh, I was excited by your figure and I was thinking your powers would be beneficial for couples…” his smile dies off as he realizes what he’s giving away. His chin falls with embarrassment and he probably holds his breath for too long as he stifles a subdued hic.

All the puppies I encountered on the streets fall short in front of this drunk man. He’s the most lovable thing I’ve ever met.

Another hic breaks the silence and bursts of laughter escape me. He takes another swing, glancing at me sidelong, clenching the canteen with his both hands, all tense. I laugh into my hand and he flushes.

“Ah, you’re so adorable.” I snatch the flask from him, take a sip before screwing the lid.

Corrin purses his lips. “I’m not adorable. I’m manly as hell.” He flexes his arm, lifting an eyebrow at me.

Rolling my eyes, I titter. He’s somewhere in the clouds and I’m glad he is.

We cool and Corrin leans his head back. “Ah, I hate trucks,” he murmurs in a drunk baritone voice as he checks his scarf. He’s still wearing it. I don’t even know if there is a scab forming. He hasn’t taken it off since we visited the doc. Almost two days ago.

I don’t want to talk about trucks or injuries.

I inch closer to his side and lower my head to his shoulder. He shudders but stays still. Then he opens his palm to me. Unsurely, I sink mine into his and he envelops it into both of his hands, holding it like the most cherished treasure he’ll ever touch. I can only imagine how stupid he’ll feel later. But if my hand is a little piece of serenity that fills his void, then hold it away.

As Corrin falls asleep he slides to down until his head is on my shoulder and he leans on me with his weight. He releases my hand and I cover him with his parka.

Quint’s whites follow my attempts not to fall asleep. I chuckle as I unscrew the flask and take a sip. “Creeping?”

He stays placid, a snippet of street light falling on his short curly hair. “Say, Sevina, you know everything about a person, right?”

“Yes.” I think I know what he’s getting at. “All the secrets. If that’s what you mean.”

“I do, I…will you keep mine?” His eyes fall on Corrin. “You know.”

“I will, don’t worry. Secrets are a part of my specialty.” The spirit burns my stomach.

For a while I sit. Corrin murmurs into my shoulder, shuffling against me as he dreams.

“Aida, you have to get some sleep.” Terrel’s grunt comes from the front.

“I can’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Together with a mall today,” she says quietly. “I’ve visited the hideout.”

I hear Terrel shift in his seat. “What?” He hisses. “We can’t risk their safety by going there. Aida, we talked about this.”

“I just checked on them, it’s all fine. I was discrete.”

“You shouldn’t have gone,” Terrel breathes. “This is a good opportunity we’re taking.”

“And risky.”

“Everything is. You have to take risks if you want to help others survive. We’re putting the hideout at risk by checking on them. I left in charge Rob and Mike, they’re smart men, Aida.”

“Yes, but not like this, not like we do it. It’s too risky.” There’s unusual despondency in her tone. “I’ll never approve.” Her words feel personal, dedicated to Terrel. Yet she’s with us, scared to leave Terrel, scared for her and our lives. We all are.

“I’m sorry, Aida.” Is all Terrel says and their argument is left hanging.

Everyone drifts off. By now, shuffling in his sleep, Corrin slid so low his head it at the level of my belly. Cautiously, I shove my hand behind his back. “What?” He jerks, eyes half-closed.

“It’s okay, lie here.” I guide him sideways and his head onto my lap. He doesn’t even notice and I feel relieved. He’s come far from attacking people in his sleep and I’m proud of him.

“It’s a strange pillow,” he mumbles, adjusting, not even realizing what he’s sleeping on.

“It’s my thigh.”

“Your thigh… it’s good…warm.” He flops on his back and spreads out, for once breathing softly like a healthy sleeping human being should. I dip my hand into his hair. A satisfied grunt escapes him and for the first time in his sleep, he faintly smiles.