The truck doors opened to a busy, smokey Mercado Lane full of armed guards scurrying about just like the ones on the Rip Van Winkle Checkpoint. I hopped down the ledge and began ushering my way through a dense crowd of settlers looking for work in the markets. It didn't seem like they needed to get clearance from Pope. They were applying on the spot with nothing in hand. Not even that application slip that Pope had to sign. Back then, people'd hold onto them as if it were their visas.
I was dropped on Main Street, where they used to keep the Gloria-08. A few blocks away was Duryea, where my quarters used to be. I was going to have to walk the whole thing with my bad knee. And so, I started walking. I didn't know what to expect going back to my old quarters. Someone else could've been staying in it. They also could have had the place closed up. There weren't going to be any leads there or anything. It's just that my old resting quarters served as a better point of reference to me than Main Street. If I got to my place, then I'd know how to get to other places. Otherwise, I didn't know how to get to them at all. I didn't know where to go from the main roads.
I got to Duryea. No one was home. I peeked through the window—no bed, no tables, no nothing. I didn't bother testing the doorknob if it clicked or not, but at least I was in the area, and the closest landmark there was was the Montefiore Hospital if I took Sickles Ave, so I did.
As dense as the crowd was, it wasn't a lively one. It was busy, but so much grayer than it was in October. I thought I was walking right back into that nine-to-five I had just landed after I graduated college, and that everyone else was crawling to their respective nine-to-fives as well. It was like no one's time belonged to them, and we were all running out of it still. The only ones who showed a smidgen of emotion were the guards perched on the rooftops, but that was only because they had to keep their guard up if another Hexagon fleet were to zip past the skies. When I heard about the fleets while I was in Catskill, I started looking up at the skies myself no matter where I was.
I still do that.
For the first time in a month, I saw Pope sitting on the steps of the Montefiore Hospital. In her hands was a box full of folders and documents. To her side—her typewriter. Before her were two leather duffle bags that looked full to bursting. The county executive appeared to be waiting for something. She stared lifelessly into the grain of the asphalt as towngoers passed her by.
Pope looked defeated.
I took a few steps back, hoping she wouldn't notice me, but it was too late. When she lifted her head, her jaded eyes locked with mine. It didn't matter that I had the shawl wrapped around my head. That woman's hunch was just as strong as Dr. Agatha's. And if I weren't the only person she knew who had that kind of scarring on her face, then the other would've been someone named "Tessa Lambert".
The jig was up.
Her eyes flared upon seeing me standing on the other side of the street, but despite my presence—despite the order of staying in our respective counties—the county executive smiled. It wasn't a condescending one or a you've-been-found-out one. It was almost as if she was glad to see me. Glad that I came back. I walked toward her, looking both ways as I crossed the street. For some reason, I couldn't smile back at her. Maybe it was because I knew I wasn't supposed to be there, and that maybe Pope was just luring me into a trap. Maybe I was going to get pounced on and brought back to Catskill. Maybe Everett was going to get court martialed. Maybe St. Vier was going to be executed.
"Pope," in a nervous tone, I beat her to it. "Before you say anything, I—"
"Tessa…," the county executive silenced me with one word. "I missed you dearly."
The woman patted the space next to her and asked me to take a seat. When I did, the strain in my legs went away and the tension in my body just ceased to exist. It was reminiscent of that time Mr. Pie and I were sitting on that bench when we did the cash drop. Only this time, we weren't speaking of the devil.
"When Reggy and I married, the only worries we had was how we were going to spend the rest of our lives providing for each other. We worried about the bills, the car, Helen… but those were the things we wanted anyway."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph of her and her late husband sitting on the hood of their newly purchased car at the time—the photo was dated September 30th, 1937. The strongman Reginald rested against a black 1930 Dodge Coupe with a petite Helena nestled in his arms.
"He'd drive me around in that thing when he wasn't out drilling in the mines. After that, he'd bring me over to his mother's—the Purple Home. We'd have supper, we'd pray, and then we'd head back home, but my heart always stayed put. It never left that place."
Pope told me that when Reggy's mother passed, they inherited the Purple Home. They had it with the black Coupe for a while, and long after they sold the thing.
"Everyday, when I head down the steps, I hear Reggy's Coupe just outside the door. I open it, and I see my sweet Noby with the jeep in the driveway. Some days, he's with Helen. Others… he's with you." She placed the box at her feet and turned to me. She said, "You know, I never had the chance to host you and Noby that dinner I always secretly longed for."
"Pope…," I gently caressed her sullen face. It appeared as if the woman was in a trance. "Pope, are you alright?"
"No," she said with a painful smile, "no, I am not."
I asked her, "What's with the box and the bags?"
"Oh, these," she said with a titter. "I did all I could for this place. I fought the French with my people. I fought the general for my people. I did all I could. Now, it's just… It's time to go."
Others would be asking themselves "that's it" or "why did Pope give up so quickly". In reality, she didn't need to stick around in the first place. Other county executives fled once they heard the regiment lose Edgewater to the French. Some would say that Pope had a fault in it, but we've witnessed the worst of the worst. They managed to plant a bomb on a car that, if it wasn't further down being guarded by Pali' guys, was parked along English Street back at Fort Lee. I'd like to think that we were bound to lose Edgewater and Fort Lee at some point or that we had lost them from the start.
That woman didn't back down. She was strong. Even after the northern border of the Barren Buffer Zone receded, she outsourced markets from the east to circulate the dollar. She stayed and made sure that Congress knew what was happening down there, and that our soldiers were well compensated.
Pope was right—she did all she could.
"God put me to the test, and I took Him up on His offer. They tried to shake me, but I stood still. I resisted the urge to just cripple and die like everyone else my age who told me I had a foot in the grave. But, darling, unkillable doesn't mean undefeatable. Jesus, I wish it did."
I told her, "We wouldn't be where we are without you. People would be starving and dying."
"People starved and died for this. They did because I ordered them to."
"There's no point in harping on the past. What matters now is that people are living. Mercado Lane is thriving because of you."
"Lisa…," Pope accidentally addressed me by my actual name.
The county executive immediately stood from the steps and placed her hands on her mouth, not to conceal a sigh, but rather to suppress her cries. At that point, she could no longer hold herself together. When I stood up to console her, the woman pulled a complete one-eighty and grabbed me by the shoulders, asking me frantically if Anais had "given it to me yet". Assuming that she was talking about the letter, I told her yes. I had to cup her face in my palms as she began trembling.
I'd never seen the county executive so shaken before.
I asked her, "Pope… Pope, what happened?"
All she did was wag her head and repeatedly tell me, "I can't… I just can't."
"Pope, work with me here." I wasn't willing to give up. "Why are you asking about that—about Anais?"
It was difficult trying to get through to her. The woman looked so frightened. I held her in my arms and sat her back down on the steps, letting her trembling body rest in my gentle grasp. It pained me watching the iron county executive shiver the way she did.
"Look, Anais would have to know the urgency of that letter to both me and General Vergs to have the compunction to take it from his desk. She'd have to know that it was addressed to me and that the general was keeping it from me, but I doubt she'd find that out on her own." I asked her, "Was it you?"
"Tessa—"
"Pope, please." I was desperate for an answer.
The county executive took a moment to gather her bearings. A subtle shift in her spine brought back that bravado she was known to have. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting out all the wind in her lungs until she hunched over and had nothing left to blow.
Then, she told it to me.
The day the bomb went off, I was sent directly to English Street where Dr. Agatha and her medical team performed a damage control surgery on me. General Vergs, Captain Finer, and Anais were on standby. Pope told me that she came as soon as she heard, arriving at the resting quarters by the time the operation was done.
"I asked him 'what now'," said Pope, "and he told me that they were going to send you to Catskill to recover. And then, when you'd wake up from your coma, they'd drive you up to an OEC and send you away."
I asked her, "For good?"
"For good."
Pope claimed that Dr. Agatha still tried to reason with the general, telling him that "it's not right" and that "he was making a mistake". Their conversation escalated. It turned into a full-on screaming match between the two, and it seemed to be getting to Pope. Captain Finer had to sit her down as she looked like she was having a panic attack. That must've been the second fight that Anais was talking about. The fact that it shook Pope—it must've shook her, too.
Plans of moving me up to Catskill came to a halt, but General Vergs turned to O-Peck to carry out his wish and had me transferred anyway—without Dr. Agatha and Pope's knowledge, mind you.
Pope continued, "The postal office has a POI list—persons of interest whose letters are considered more urgent, rather it be to-and-from Congress, a salary statement, or a request for reinforcements from another regiment. The ones on that list are me, the Vergs residence, Pali' Recon, and O-Peck, and letters and parcels that are associated with the people on that list are monitored by the postal office."
The county executive explained that Ms. Matsumoto had written to me when she had just arrived at Mercado Lane, not knowing that they were going to bring me to Catskill two days later. Her letter was sent to the address in Fort Lee on the same day they drove me to Catskill, yet no one was there to receive it on my behalf—O-Peck moved me on the spot, and with it, came the recession of soldiers from the area. The following day, the same postman who delivered the letter returned to Fort Lee to retrieve it since I was on the POI list, however it was no longer there. That same day, a regiment soldier stationed at Fort Lee arrived at the postal office with the letter in his hand, asking the county executive and her workers where General Vergs was so he could deliver it to him himself. Pope told the man that "that wouldn't be necessary", though the soldier insisted. Pope asked him who the letter was addressed to, seeing that the name on the envelope said "Lisa Baby". "It's confidential," said the soldier, though nothing was ever confidential, especially a letter that was stamped at HOR postal services. The POI list was for urgent letters—not secret ones. That was when she knew General Vergs had something under wraps.
"What was it about?"
"Tessa…"
"Was it about me? It was me—wasn't it?"
Pope said she wished she could've told me, but she couldn't. The county executive simply didn't have it in her to lay it on me. In her exact words, she "didn't want to be the one to burden me". However, she also told me that she wouldn't stop me in my search for answers and that I "deserved to know the truth".
"All the answers you've been searching for… are at the Vergs residence." She checked her watch—the time was nine hundred. "You still have time. Vergs and Everest convene at ten-thirty to discuss the expense sheet. There's a TV and a VHS player in my office. Once you find what you need, head straight to the postal office. Trust me, they'll let you in."
Pope stood once more and hoisted me up at the same time she said "go on now", but she didn't let me go just yet. She pulled the bottom half of my shawl over my face then held me as tight as she could.
"I'm afraid this is the last we'll see each other," she whimpered like a dog.
"Pope," I barely uttered her name, "why did you do all that?"
"Because living a lie is just as good as being dead… And I don't want you to go. I want you to live."
Delaying that revelation was the same as telling me "we're getting to the bottom of it"—it yielded no answer—but it felt nice to know that I had people on my side. It was then my responsibility to not let their efforts and my own go to waste.
As Pope let me go, she told me something I'll never forget…
"If this is God's gift—'freewill'—then I don't want any of it."
That was the last thing Pope ever said to me before boarding a jeep and leaving Mercado Lane for good. Her words stung and left an impression on me since then. That was the kind of effect she had on people. She'd move them, and I was indeed moved. I'll be honest. If it weren't for her—for what she did to get that letter to me—I would still be living that lie.
I'd be dead.
#36 Ackerman Place.
The Vergs residence wasn't the same. The lawn was nothing but patches of dead weeds, the driveway was blackened by mold, and Tommy's humvee was no longer in the garage. I crept through the weeds and crouched under the window peering into the kitchen. I heard the tap running—someone must've been home. I figured it was Dr. Agatha since Anais told me that "Papa" didn't sleep in the house anymore. Around the back of the home, there was a stepladder just high enough for me to stand on and reach for the gutter. I climbed on the roof and pressed my stomach flat on the panels, dragging myself by the tensile strength of my toes and my fingertips.
I inched my way to a half-open window, slipping through with ease thanks to my straw build. I fell headfirst into the guest room, though thankfully, the hospital bed was there to break my fall and suppress whatever loud thud there was to be if it weren't there. All there was was a snap and a squeak, though I wasn't heavy enough for the sounds to get through the walls.
I knew that the room across was the master bedroom, and in it, was General Vergs' private office. I looked at the clock on the nightstand—the time was ten hundred. I took a chance and ever so slowly pried the door open, pressing my weight against the wood to muffle its creaks. I shuffled across the hall and snuck into their room. You could tell which side of the bed was whose. The left nightstand had an unlit cigar and a dress watch. The other had empty blister packs and crumpled Xemperil boxes. The comforter was neatly tucked on the left side of the bed, whereas on the right, the sheets were spilling over the side. I was quite saddened looking at it.
Across the bedroom was the general's desk. It had two whiskey glasses stacked on top of each other and a third of a bottle of 1989 Das Frettchen Whisky. Scattered on the desk were all the things stripped of me since the blast: the tickler, the voice recorder, and the VHS tape. Without hesitation, I bundled the evidence in my arms then stashed them in my coat one by one. As I did, a faint shimmer caught my eye. It wasn't as harsh as a sniper's or a spotting scope. It was soft, similar to that of a watch or a pair of cufflinks. Just beside the bottle of German whiskey was yet another voice recorder. Perhaps, it was the same one I had spotted in Tommy's humvee the first time I visited the Vergs residence.
I swiped it as well.
Click, creak.
I heard the front door sway open then close, followed by Dr. Agatha's voice as she said "what brings you here".
"Business, Emily," it was General Vergs.
The doctor sounded irritated, "My god, put it to rest why don't you?"
"How can I?!" the general raised his voice.
"What do you mean 'how can I'?!" Dr. Agatha raised her voice as well. "You lock it in a box then you float it down a river."
"You simply don't understand the weight of it all—what it means to Congress, to the operation."
"Mitchell, the girl pledged her allegiance. Isn't that enough proof?"
"Thomas pledged his allegiance… Look where that got us."
I heard heavy footsteps banging on the staircase, followed by lighter, quicker steps. It sounded like the doctor was preventing him from going upstairs.
"Emily, please—"
"Mitchell."
"I have Congress waiting in New City to collect the evidence. Emily, there's no time for anything else."
"There is! Christ, all you think about is Congress! Not me, not Anais, not anybody! It's like we're not even here!" You could hear the strain in Dr. Agatha's voice as she pulled the general down the steps, saying, "I worry day and night for you and the girl. Jesus, I don't sleep, I don't eat. This cancer—it's nothing compared to that sick feeling I get from what Congress has you do every single day."
"Emily, it's my duty—"
"And you're the love of my life," she said as soft as a whisper. "I care about the operation as much as you do—I really do—but it's consumed you. The Mitchell I knew not so many months ago wouldn't let that girl live a complete lie, even if Congress told him to."
"This is different."
"How so?"
The general answered her, "An ICBMC is currently under development—something that can throw this entire operation off course should they choose to hit the big, red button, and all you worry about is… is my safety?"
"What—"
"About the household? About keeping something as simple as a secret? I mean… I…"
The general silenced himself. He knew he had said too much.
"The household?" Dr. Agatha was heartbroken.
"Emily…"
"You don't care about the household?"
After their exchange was a brief silence in which I took the time to sneak out of the bedroom window. When I landed on the ground, I spotted an old pickup in the driveway. As I ambled my way to it, their exchange continued.
I heard Dr. Agatha's livid voice as she yelled, "You know what?! Take it! Take it all! I don't give a damn!"
I took that as my cue to book it. With all the evidence tucked away underneath my coat, I rushed out into the street and made my way to the postal office. I ran, and ran, and ran, and I didn't stop running. It may have still mattered that passersby were looking my way, but it didn't matter to me. I had the answers right at my fingertips.
I had what was going to be the rest of my careful life.
* * *
Pope's guards at the postal office let me in without hesitation. As soon as I entered the building, the doors shut and the guards closed up every window. I rushed upstairs and into the county executive's office, not worrying about my surroundings as the armed men had every nook and cranny in their sights. The hanging plants in Pope's office were dried to a crisp, and that soothing scent of flowers which masked Mercado Lane's smokey essence had vanished. Through the window I saw the Purple Home. It was just as sad-looking as the Vergs Residence and even shone a gray hue underneath the December soot.
Pope wasn't coming back. She never did.
The first thing I did was examine the tickler. It belonged to Major Monet Legrand, serving as her journal. It was full of dates, coordinates, and altitudes over land coordinates—ones that seemed to go over Rockland County and further west… reaching Pennsylvania. It mentioned Lords Valley, it mentioned Michigan, it even mentioned Thunder Bay, though her documentations were written in short, concise, and almost cryptic sentences. I couldn't decipher some of the entries. The major documented her reports in an interesting way. She started from the bottom page, then the dates would progress from there. On the top page was her latest entry dated "10.12.92".
10.12.92
40.841194° N, -73.940806° W
CUIMC ambushed, Palisades advanced. 2 EE ops (Dupuy, Gauche) KIA'd by L'Enfant. Evacuated via Wombat at 13:00. On route to BBY's coords. MAS identified Pelly. VBIED currently in transit.
That was the day we infiltrated the university hospital. I had a sick feeling in the gut upon reading "L'Enfant" off the paper. The fact that someone as heartless as the Hexagon "war chief" had the audacity to call that girl a "devil child" made my skin crawl—it still does.
I skimmed through the tickler once more, fanning its pages until I stumbled on her entry dated "09.01.92".
09.01.92
41.3900912° N, −74.9696138° W
BBY AWOL.
September 1st, 1992—that was the day Tommy was presumed dead. I suddenly recalled what General Vergs had told Dr. Agatha back at their home: "Thomas pledged his allegiance… Look where that got us." Tommy stated in the voice recorder (I didn't need to play it back anymore) that Major Legrand had paid him a visit in our home in Pennsylvania. I didn't know it at the time, but the coordinates documented on her "09.01.92" entry corresponded to a town called "Cornwall" which was located in Orange County—east of Lords Valley and a relatively short distance via helo.
I was used to stopping and thinking, wanting to piece together the entries and the voice recording on my own, though I no longer needed to. I wagged my head, purged all of the assumptions building up inside my skull, then grabbed the tape entitled "TÊTE-À-TÊTE: BBY". I was hesitant in placing it into the VHS player's slot, but it wasn't the time to shell up and whimper. It was time to confront the truth, and the static that flashed on the TV as I turned it on was almost like the calm before the storm.
I kind've didn't want it to end.
Click.
"Good evening, Mr. Baby."
"Maj. Legrand. Would you like anything? Water? Wine perhaps?"
"I would love to have some wine, please."
"Red or white?"
"Red."
There were two figures on the screen sitting across each other at the kitchen island. The figure on the left was my beloved Tommy—faded, reddish-brown hair, a scruffy beard, a pale and stocky build, and gentle blue eyes. On the right was the tall, sinewy Major Legrand—dark brown hair down to her neck with a white streak along the part, deep laugh lines, a hawk nose, and steely green eyes.
"Mr. Baby, it appears that M-SIAT can no longer maneuver in Congress' best interests."
"Interests such as?"
"I will get into that in a bit. The Untouchables' presence in M-SIAT is forcing Harriet's hand. If he doesn't proceed with caution, we will very likely use means of force to acquire ownership over the institute. We've done that before with militias and pirates. We can do it again."
"And what makes you hold out from doing that right now?"
"General Bernard and I are… forgiving… individuals."
The major's voice was deep and raspy and her r's glided so much more than St. Vier's.
"Forgive me, Major, but I am just a mere friend of Harriet."
"I know, Mr. Baby. Everyone we've linked to the M-SIAT president so far was only ever just a 'friend of Harriet'. Those who were more—those who either worked at T-SIAP or M-SIAT—could only tell us so much of the truth, the truth being that their blueprints were never printed on standard rolls. It's funny. One of them even told me that you'd never find a single one of those blue rolls in the facilities if not blueprints for the facility itself."
"And what happened to them?"
"We let them go. Why would we show fangs to that?"
"I suppose…"
My poor Tommy—he sounded so afraid. Where was I?
"But, Major—"
"Please… 'Monet'."
The major pulled the glove off of her right hand and presented it to Tommy in a relaxed manner. He reached in for a handshake, though as soon as he grasped a sliver of her hand, the major retracted it and presented it to him once more, this time, with the back of her hand facing the ceiling completely. Tommy took her hand and, reluctantly, laid a kiss upon it.
"Monet… I'd know the least about T-SIAP and about Dr. Harriet. We go out and drink beers, watch ball games, host dinners, but… but the big talk—these things about T-SIAP—there was never an avenue for that. I… I never cared to ask either."
"That's a shame. You two are quite close from what I've heard. Surely, his passions would've come up in conversation by now. I'm sure yours have. You know—your columns, your articles, your career!"
After the major's chipper remark, the both of them froze. My stomach jolted as I thought the tape had given up on me, though the faint static of the TV failed to conceal Tommy's shivers.
She continued.
"Your… wife's… career…"
"Major—"
"Monet."
"Right. Monet. I can hardly recall anything about that either. When you hear it everyday and see it everyday, it almost just flies over your head."
"Of course! Hahaha! I know, I know. I'm sure you get to hear all about it in laid-back ways. You are her husband and she is your wife. I assume it's one of those it-goes-without-saying things, right? Pretty mundane."
"Haha… Yes. As funny as it sounds, it is exactly like that."
It didn't look like the major was giving into my husband's small-talk. Not one bit. Nonetheless, she maintained her friendly demeanor.
"I see. But, Mr. Baby, we're talking about M-SIAT here. T-SIAP is gone with the wind, and even if it weren't, the U.S. wouldn't have the power to withhold anything of theirs. It wouldn't be in their jurisdiction. Why did you mention T-SIAP in particular?"
"Oh, well… You see—"
"Well, of course, T-SIAP did go into liquidation. Its assets were transferred to the Michigan institute. But I guess you'd know nothing about that. Unless your wife told you about it in an urgent tone—not that laid-back one. I find it hard to believe that she wouldn't. I mean, after all… you are her husband… and she is your wife. If I were her, that would be one of those it-goes-without-saying things. But of course, this one in particular would stick."
"Monet… You seem to have a fascination for my partner."
"She's quite smart, Mr. Baby. Graduated from Concordia University in 1978 with a Bachelor's degree in Aerospace Engineering. Obtained her Master's degree in 1979 and has an impressive IQ of 145. Her capacity to love and socialize masks the fact that she has Asperger's Disorder… Mr. Baby, your wife is gifted."
"She's a gift from God."
"Oh, Tommy," I murmured.
"Mmm, she is. She'd make an exceptional gift for the Soviet Republic and a saving grace on Dr. Harriet's behalf."
"Gift? Saving grace? I'm sorry, Monet. I… I don't follow."
"Do not fret, Mr. Baby. This is not your predicament. I am merely notifying you of what the Hexagon aims to retrieve from M-SIAT."
"Okay… Enlighten me."
"Thank you. I will. A number of these individuals that I have interviewed from M-SIAT claimed that, other than liquid metals and other resources, projects from the Thunder Bay institute were absorbed into the Michigan institute and were assigned new project heads. Correct?"
"Yes, I've been told."
"Ah, is it one of those it-goes-without-saying things?"
"Yes."
"Alright then. Mr. Baby, I've been told by several accounts that, out of all the projects that managed to survive the liquidation, only one remained dormant—one that all these accounts claimed to be patents for a 'HALT Rocket'. I was told that its former project head was T-SIAP's very own Director of Engineering."
"Oh, God," I exclaimed. "Oh, God, no."
"The T-3 'Songbird' if I'm correct."
"Monet, it's Harriet's project as much as it is hers—"
"And Harriet would rather die. But tell me, Mr. Baby, what about you? What about your dearest Elisabeth?"
"I am sorry, but there's virtually nothing we can do. I thought you said this wasn't my predicament."
"I lied. If this is anyone's predicament at all, it'd be yours. If Dr. Harriet continues to keep his walls up, it will continue to be yours."
"I know nothing, Monet."
"Don't test me, Mr. Baby. The previous week, you received a letter from Congress requesting that you turn in a microfiche—the HALT Rocket patents. Chances are, it is no longer in Harriet's possession. It is with you. Rather you hid it under these floorboards, your pillows, or simply ingested it. Do. Not. Test. Me."
"Monet… I…"
"You have until the first of September to bring me the microfiche. If you don't have it for me by then, then your infertility with your wife won't be the reason your lineage ends with you."
"Monet, I—"
"Actually, it's 'Major' now."
She knew everything about us—my education, my Asperger's… our infertility. It was terrifying and degrading. The major had Tommy in a corner with no way out. It was her game.
"After Congress was notified by CIA moles about the Hexagon's interest in the HALT Rockets, they urged the M-SIAT president to withhold its patents until the Ministry of Defense could find a use for it. Until now, they haven't."
"Best interests…"
"Indeed."
"Major, if I may I chime in on this…"
"You may…"
"Thank you. I'm concerned for my safety when I tell you that the patents are not in my possession nor my wife's possession. It is not stashed away in our home nor is it stashed anywhere to my knowledge nor my wife's knowledge."
"Though you were in the process of obtaining it, yes? Given that Congress requested you to fetch it?"
"That is correct."
The microfiche was kept in a black envelope underneath our mattress. The major knew everything except that.
"Then you deliver them to me instead. The Teaneck regiment's secretary wrote to you as well, yes? Requesting you join the Fort Lee regiment as General Vergs' aide-de-camp? The Fort Lee regiment is the closest regiment to the Hexagon. We have the river and you have the coast. I imagine you'll have plenty of chances to get to me. Complete this task, and I will request Lion-6 to bring you and your wife into Montreal. You two will no longer be persons of interest and will be unbothered for the remainder of the Praxis."
The major, in her daunting presence, arches her back and extends her hand once more to him. This time, she was reaching in for a handshake.
"Do we have a deal, Mr. Baby?"
My beloved had no choice. Once again reluctant, Tommy slowly reached in for her hand and shook it. Major Legrand's regal yet chilling smile contrasted Tommy's fidgety expressions.
Click.
The tape ended.
I clutched my chest as hard as I could, gasping for air as if someone had deliberately sucked it out of my lungs. I felt like I was dying. Like the major was killing me through the screen. Dr. Harriet disappeared, Lieutenant Miller met his demise, Ms. Matsumoto was widowed, and my beloved Tommy was toyed with until death… all because of me. And because of what I had created, millions of others were to die by my hands as well. They weren't after Tommy nor were they after Dr. Harriet. They were all after me—the others were just collateral.
I was completely and utterly bereaved. Pope's guards began marching up the steps as I let out a bellowing cry. With all I had in me, I roared for all of Mercado Lane to hear. I didn't care if I caused a ruckus. I didn't care if I blew my cover. I didn't care if my cries gave the Hexagon a shoulder tap from wherever they were cooped up. I wanted the world to know that I was done living that lie—that Lisa Baby had risen from the dead.
The guards rushed into the room to restrain me but not before I trashed the county executive's office. The TV tipped off its stand as I drove my heel into it. The VHS player flung into the air with the tape still in it as I kicked and screamed. I'd go limp in the guards' grasp, slip through their arms, then begin trashing the place again. I was livid.
My tantrum ended when I caught a glimpse of Dr. Agatha standing in the doorway. I stopped almost instantaneously, still standing there all tense like a dog foaming at the mouth.
"Lisa?" The doctor looked frightened as she called out, though her warm voice didn't get through to me that time.
Anything could've been a facade.
"Don't…" I stood there, my right hand balled into a fist, the other pointing at Dr. Agatha. "You don't get to call my name as if I'm a stray—as if I'm the one who should be put in check! And for what? All because of this? Just because I wanted to know the truth?"
"Lisa—"
"Well, I do now."
Jud, jud, jud!
O-Peck came marching up the steps, Captain Mapleman all red in the face. He was going to scold me again for leaving Catskill, but Dr. Agatha pushed him away as he started cussing me. The O-Peck guys tried to get a hold of me, but Pope's guards stood their ground and formed a blockade. Just when I thought the room couldn't get any smaller, he arrived.
Accompanied by the CS, General Vergs stepped into the county executive's office. The room went dead quiet, though they didn't fear his presence—they feared mine. They feared what I was to do to him. The O-Peck squad and Pope's guards parted for the general who had no weapon on his body. Not even a simple pocket knife.
"Lisa," he said as he showed his hands to me. "You're supposed to be in Catskill."
I told him, "I felt different."
"It was for your safety—your protection. Lisa, it's not safe out here. I had to send Pope away. Soon, the markets close down, the guards pack up, and all that'll be left is the regiment. We wouldn't want you here when the time comes. We'd want you to be safe… Tommy would want—"
"I'm sorry," I raised my hand at him. "Can we just… Can we just drop the whole 'Tommy' thing? I don't like it when you say his name."
General Vergs asked me, "What can I do?"
"What can you do?" I repeated his question, "What can you do? Are you still inclined to send me away? Do you still want to keep me in the dark? Or are you going to shoot me once I turn the other way?"
"Jesus, Lisa. It was a precautionary measure—"
"Oh, yeah? Why don't you tell that to Lieutenant Miller if you're so cautious about this? Why don't you dig him up and tell him yourself?! Better yet, have the balls to visit his wife and give her your regards! Because I'll say this: it's a whole lot better than writing!"
I fell back on the TV stand and regained my breath, rubbing my eyes profusely as the major's evil smile stained my retinas, her slippery voice still ringing in my ears.
With a single wave of his hand, General Vergs commanded all the armed guards to exit the office. Captain Mapleman stormed out in a way that resembled Lieutenant Miller, Everett ambled with his head down, and the rest—O-Peck and Pope's guards—marched routinely. The only ones that remained were General Vergs and Dr. Agatha.
They circled in on me with their hands hovering over their hips, worried that I'd spring up from the stand and lash out on them. I could've, but I didn't see the point. Also, my bellows moments prior had done quite a number on me already. I was spent. General Vergs knelt before me by the TV stand while Dr. Agatha returned to the doorway.
I looked down to my feet as the general told me, "Lisa, let's get you home, alright?"
"Catskill…? Montreal…?"
As soon as I heard "Lisa" slip out of his gob for the nth time, I stood from the TV stand, pushed him aside, and went over to the window which showed the once Purple Home. I pressed my hands on the windowsill, the dried petals of dead Rose Mallows withering as I rested my palms heavily on them.
"A dog on the run… for this?" I said. "For something I should've known from the start? You don't get to keep something like this from me. I married that man for Christ's sake. He had the rest of my life, and I loved him like I never loved before…"
Then, I felt a cold bite creep up my arms and my neck. That shock upon watching the tape didn't give the kind of scare that'd make you jump. It was slower than that. It was like I was hanging by a thread—paranoid. It was only then, when I was there perched on that windowsill, did I realize something.
That bomb wasn't a message. They were cutting loose ends.
"You saw that tape," I told them both. "You saw Tommy. Even before I found that tape at CUIMC, you knew how scared he was! I didn't even know this happened! I never knew the burden he had—the fear that ate him up… And, God, all this time, I thought he took this gig just cause…"
I didn't write, I didn't call… Lord, how easy it would've been to just pick up the phone and dial. I was so weak and I was so harsh. The fact that I had to relive that through the lieutenant and the secretary. If I had known, I would've been by his side no matter where he was. I would've been on his finger, and he would've been on mine. But that wasn't the case. Sadly, I had left my ring in Lords Valley.
"I blew my chance… I blew my chance to close that gap, to keep what I had left. And you…" I pointed in between the general's eyes, "You took that from me."
General Vergs walked up to me, puffing his chest, not to intimidate, but rather to rid the tension within. "You think I don't know the cost of this mission? The toll it takes on all of us? The desire to just… risk the court martial just to let you in on this? I really wish I could have… but I couldn't. It is in my power, but America is on the cusp of something far worse than an occupation. I am sorry, but all of this rests on whatever was discussed on that tape—"
I talked over him, "And you thought that I was… in… on it, right?"
I told him that I heard the conversation he had with Dr. Agatha back at the Vergs residence, and how he didn't fully trust me nor did he fully trust Tommy. General Vergs was willing to lay it down for me, though I was tired of it all. I didn't care for what he had to say. I felt like that tape was the end of it.
I practically begged him, "I don't want to be played for a fool anymore. I lost everything because of it. And now that I did, I still get played. Can I have the rest of this? Can I have whatever compassion, sanity, and dignity I have left? It's not much, but I could still lose this to you… and I don't want to."
"Lisa—"
"General, please."
Without saying anything else, and looking so ashamed, General Vergs stood aside. As I walked toward the doorway, Dr. Agatha held onto me the way she did back at Big Indian, but I was too cold to be thawed by it. That kind of touch numbed my brain from seeking the truth. In the end, it was all numb. I didn't say anything to her. I calmly shook her arms off and continued walking. Downstairs, Captain Mapleman and Everett, among a hushed crowd of guards and O-Peck soldiers, watched silently as I descended. The only sound that could be heard within the postal office were the clicks and clacks of my boots. All eyes and ears were on me. Just like the Hexagon.
Outside the postal office was a jeep. In it—Noby. A million emotions rushed through my body, causing me to jerk to a stop in the middle of the street. I stood still, though my chest was magnetically drawn to his presence—perhaps, the only touch I longed for. Maybe even the one that damned me from the start. Every step he made to get to me was perfectly in sync with the pounding in my chest.
"Lisa…"
His voice, his breath—they were poison.
"No…," I muttered, "No…"
Chest-to-chest, Noby looked down on me with such a tender gaze. It was difficult to keep my guard up, but I had to. I began throwing fists at his chiseled face like I was punching the fender of an eight-wheeler. It wasn't fazing him, though it did keep his hands away from my waist. As much as I wanted to, I knew I could no longer give in.
"You," I cried, "Out of everyone here, you do this to me? You lied to me? You kept all these secrets from me?"
"Lisa, let me explain."
I kept wagging my head, hoping that it was all just a nightmare and that it would end soon, but the captain's breath felt and sounded so real. Eventually, Noby got a hold of me. I tried to shimmy out of his grasp, though he refused to let go.
With tears running down my rosy face, I told him, "How dare you? You keep Tommy's situation a secret from me, and this is what you do? You come onto me?! What do you think of me—some broken woman?!"
I whacked him on the forehead with my palm then pushed him far back, keeping a good distance between us. I made it a point that I lost trust in him—in all of them.
Noby then told me, "I wanted to protect you. I wanted to take care of you."
I then went on a whole tirade, "I am sick of hearing that! All you did was nothing but put me on a watch glass! No wonder I felt like I didn't belong! No wonder all I did was sit and watch! Why did people have to die for this?! Mind you, there is blood on my hands because of this! And to think that I…"
The moment I blinked, I was back in Pennsylvania. And with that same amount of aggression coursing through my veins, I was standing across the living room from Tommy who was at the door with his briefcase in hand. In that moment, I was looking at my husband.
Just barely, I uttered, "You have no idea… how bad I wanted you."
Noby closed the space between us once again, his hands clinging to mine as he said, "Lisa, I am right here. Please give me a chance."
"I'm sorry… but this is not real."
"Lisa, please. Just let me fix this. I can fix this."
"'Fix' this?! I'm sorry. How could you possibly 'fix' this?!" I let out on the captain. "You kept such a grave secret from me. You lied when you told me that I wasn't in the dark and you lied when you said that I shouldn't feel unsafe because of you!"
"Lisa—"
"And may God forbid, of all people, you were the buffer?! What, did you think you could just… smoothtalk me?! Throw me off my course?! Is that what you wanted?! Did you want me to let him go?! Because I was going to." I lost my voice midway as I said, "I was going to leave it all behind for you!"
Noby drew his arms closer to his hips and my chest even closer to his. He told me, "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want the news to bring you down. It breaks people. And it broke me when I heard about Helen… I wanted to heal… and I wanted you to heal, too."
His words meant nothing to me.
I looked up at him, and with a pale face, asked him, "Is that it? Is that all you got?"
He threw me off my course was what he did—for General Vergs' interest or his own. I still needed to learn what Pali' Recon's intentions were with recruiting me, but I didn't bother sticking around a second longer. I figured I knew enough to stay away. I retracted my hands from Noby's grasp and left the postal office with my hands in my pockets—the second voice recorder in the left.
I never wanted to leave so badly.
I did.