Ages in Oblivion Thrown: Book One of the Sleep Trilogy (14 page)

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Authors: Kate Gray

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BOOK: Ages in Oblivion Thrown: Book One of the Sleep Trilogy
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After all other considerations, they were
all grateful that Wallace wasn’t among them. From her behavior to
date, it seemed probable that she would not have been as well off
if he had been. They did mourn Julieta Ramirez and Hiroko, and that
Maeve had never formally met those two.

Wallace was an entirely different question.
He never should have been included in the program, as far as any
one of them was concerned. They all had their reasons for believing
this was so. The only truly important reason, in Leif’s mind
especially, was a matter of trust. There had been debate about
whether Wallace’s actions had been deliberate or sheer stupidity,
but what he’d done had led to consequences far beyond anyone’s
control.

They halted directly outside the walls
between Maeve’s rooms and them. Loud music emanated through the
walls. Music had always been her refuge. It was somehow reassuring
that she was at least listening to it. Before, after everything
that had happened, she had gone silent. No songs, no talking, no
anything.

Once, though, she and her brother had played
guitar together in a long ago time, only dim memory now. They would
sit out in the dirt and grass yard of their cramped housing,
picking out songs under the stars. Those nights had been filled
with the smell of citronella candles sloshing around in glass jars
and beer of the cheapest variety. Anyone who had wanted to join in
had always been welcome. Leif recalled that she’d favored bluegrass
and folk. What pounded on the other side of the walls, as they
stood listening, was distinctly different. It seemed that some
inner conflict was still raging.

Josh broke their inertia, caused by the
intensity of the sound, and began thumping on the door vigorously.
The music quieted slightly, and they heard her call to enter. The
door opened on its own, revealing nothing of Maeve, until they
rounded the corner. She hung from a bar, finishing a set of
pull-ups, after which she dropped and started in on pushups. The
music made slightly more sense now, given the sweat she had worked
up.


Three hundred to go. Just finished
the first hundred.” Josh nodded.


You’re gonna be on your face by the
end of ‘er.”


That’s the idea.” She gritted her
teeth and focused on getting through the discomfort and the urge to
stop. Grace stood staring at the pull-up cage.


Where the hell did she get this? I’m
not saying I want one, but still.”


I dunno. Let’s ask
after
she finishes, though.” They
adjourned to her kitchen and began to raid the cupboards. Maeve
ignored the rattling and banging. She struggled to find the focus
to get through fifty more pushups, breaking them into smaller
chunks. After that, one hundred sit-ups, while her body screamed at
her, and then one hundred air squats.

Though she was finished, she waited several
moments to peek at her timer. Twenty-eight minutes. Not great, but
not poor, either. She reminded herself that this was not about
sprinting to a finish line. She had to find her pace and hold to
it. That was the trick, though. Finding a tempo, a rhythm by which
she could live. A shadow loomed over her. She snapped out of her
reverie.


What do you say to a quiet night in?”
Leif was smiling down at her.


Somehow I can’t see quiet being a
part of it for long.”


What’s that supposed to mean?”
Innocence was not one of his better acts.


I saw the bottles you just brought
in.” She forced a smile and waggled a finger at the kitchen
counter.


Oh, that. Just a growler and some
wine. And some other stuff. Not my idea.” He screwed up his face
and stared at the ceiling. “Completely.”


Where did you find a
growler?”


Brewpub. They fill them right on the
spot for you. We were thinking of getting some pizza, catching up
on the cinematic treasures we’ve surely missed…what do you
say?”


Sure. Sounds, um, relaxing.” She
continued to towel off, ignoring Leif’s pointed look.


No other plans tonight?” He wanted to
punch himself in the head. How could she fail to read him
completely?


None that I’m aware of.” She quirked
her mouth at his relieved expression. “Alright, out with it. You’ve
been acting weird for the past couple days.”


No idea what you’re talking
about.”


Is this about Major Petrovich?” Maeve
watched his face run through a series of expressions. She wondered
if he was aware of just how poor a job he did hiding his
thoughts.


What?! Noooo…nah. Nope.”


Jemi said you guys went out to a bar
the other night. He and I were at a very similar place that
night.”


So? You’re an adult.”


You’ve always looked out for me, like
a br…you’re a good friend. Probably the best friend I’ve ever had.”
He’d turned away, not wanting her to read his face right then. It
was obvious to him why she’d pulled short of using the word
“brother”, but being thought of that way, or as just a friend…it
cut deep.


We might have seen you with him. No
big deal.” He willed her to keep asking, to admit finally that she
knew there was more to it. Somehow, though, he knew she wasn’t
ready to go back in time yet. Turning back around, he strained a
smile back onto his face. “Now, you still like the veggie pizza,
right?”

 

۞

 

Tark was just stretching out on his bed,
savoring the damp, fresh feel of just having had a long bath.
Sa’andy stood leaned over the sink, toweling off her silky hair.
She then tossed the cloth on the floor to mop up the excess of
water that had escaped the confines of the tub. Sometimes she
missed living in her watery world, but on fortune’s side, Tark had
grown up in an environment well-accustomed to moisture. She hadn’t
any idea what it had entailed, other than that he loved a good wet
room. Someday, she hoped to visit his beloved bayou with him.

Humidifiers sitzed moisture into the air.
Warmth seeped along the fog, creating a boggy atmosphere. Tark had
tree frogs living with them, in a recessed terrarium. They loved
the swampy air as much as the two bipeds that cared for them did.
It was a simple and pleasant life. In fact, in spite of the day’s
events, Tark would almost call it a charmed existence. He was more
than simply content, and said as much.


It is always content, I notice, when
we have time to bathe together.”


Doesn’t hurt that you’ve been extra
attentive since that cursed morning. I’m not going to question any
of it.
C'est génial
to be in love. At least, I’m assuming love is what’s driving
this trolley. Otherwise, my whole universe is out of whack.” That
earned a smile. He was as much a sucker for those lips of hers as
she was for his quaint sense of chivalry.


Assume away. There isn’t a thing in
the universe to stop you.” She drew him closer, and began to
massage his forehead. Except exhaustion, he might have amended, but
he was already out cold. He snored a bit on the loud side until
Sa’andy gently rolled him onto his stomach. Then all he did was
hiss. In, out, in, out. It was familiar enough a sound to lull
Sa’andy into a restful state. She tucked herself close up to him,
and slipped into her own state of partial consciousness.

 

۞

 

That lone disembarkee from the laid over
ship sat in a stranger’s room listening to the sounds of the
station. It seemed almost alive to his perceptions. It had
tremendous energy that he would need to make use of in order to
complete his mission. He wanted to tap into its being, and make it
bow to his will. Two hours had passed while he walked throughout
the halls and chambers of the Nimitz, memorizing and planning.

No one had stopped him, not even to ask if
he was lost. There did not seem to be even the least hint of
suspicion toward strangers here. And that was its greatest
weakness. It was exploitable, and he would taste blood again very
soon because of it. There was a woman with him. She had willingly
gone with him from a pub, a quiet little bar that had been the
terminus of his tour.

And it was a veritable land of plenty,
though after tonight, he’d have to orchestrate his return there
carefully. No more pickups there anymore, though he’d go back. The
woman lay very still on the floor. She appeared to be tired, after
they’d thrashed together there for over an hour. So tired that
she’d given up trying to seem alive.

He reached over and carefully undid his belt
from around her neck. He’d been so gentle about it, skillful
actually, that the marks left by the leather strap were hardly
visible. She lived alone. Wouldn’t be missed for a few days, longer
than he needed to finish up. It didn’t entirely make up for having
had to abstain from cutting loose on the transport to this place.
He always wanted so much more.

It was like that, wanting the ensuing
experience while the current one was fresh-fiery in his mind. He
knew where to go next to satisfy the bloodlust. He knew how to make
the whole thing happen, like a match to rice paper, it was as easy
as punching a time clock for him. Meditating, using the trance to
rest his uneasy brain, he resisted delving into his fantasies.
Dreaming was for cowards; people who lived in fear of acting on the
urges of the true mind.

 

۞

 

Julieta and Wallace sat up late with Mrs.
Han, going over everything that had taken place. The old woman
fussed over them, bringing tea and plate after plate of food. She
was a peanut of a person, with large, dark eyes that seemed to be
overflowing with kindness. They hadn’t met her before, but she was
very much like her brother, from whose company they had so recently
parted.

The truth was much more complicated, as far
as Mrs. Han was concerned. She traded on her image, such as it was
now, to appear harmless and grandmotherly. Many, many long years
ago, her life had been distinctly different. In those days, she had
traded on something else entirely.

She had once been known as
báiliánjiào
, the
White Lotus. One might presume, having looked over information on
her past, that she had been a dangerous and possibly immoral
person. This was what Mrs. Han had aimed to achieve; a curtain from
which to operate behind. The real story was certainly far removed
from those records of her misdeeds. Truth was rarely easy or
straightforward. Truth was dangerous.

It was her duty now to smile
and continue to hide behind the façade that she had created. There
was finally a ray of hope, however. She could dream that she might
get to return home and leave the cold shroud of space behind. It
was no mistake that Mrs. Han
was on the
Nimitz.

She’d been waiting years
before the time had finally come. She had been searching, tapping
on the rim of the cosmos, watching, until one day, a ghostly echo
had eventually returned. Kun had only been able to take two of them
at the time. They couldn’t chance moving the entire vessel at that
time. Nor had he a ship large enough for all of them.

Yes. She smiled at Wallace
and Julieta, and felt the tiny bit of hope expand. The lotus would
finally be able to fade
away into dust.
There were others to take up its mission, and succeed where she and
Kun had failed. Their numbers were great enough now. They would win
the day, she knew it. All that was needed now was a
leader.


Everything okay, Mrs.
Han?”


Certainly, child. An old
woman is given to fanciful thoughts…that is all.”


Have you heard anything
more on the death of the station’s doctor?”


I needed to hear nothing,
Julieta. She was one of theirs. My contact has promised to let us
know if it has anything to do with your arrival, or the awakening
of the others.”


When should we go find
them?”


Patience, my dear boy. My
brother did not send you all the way here to behave rashly.” She
sighed. “I think it best if we proceed slowly. We have no idea
whether Warden has sent someone here to clean up after the
doctor…or perhaps….”


You think she might have
been pressured into what she did?”


That much seems possible.
We must wait for some of those answers before we act.”

 

۞

 

It was a slow morning. Dmitry had
his head set on wrapping up the matter of the two mysterious
visitors as quickly as possible. He grabbed a few people, and
headed for Mrs. Han’s theater. The old woman put on great shows,
including the one she ran around her life.

Fortunately for all of them, the
only thing she seemed to have a penchant for smuggling anymore was
refugees. Her home sat atop the theater, a healthy stairway climb
along the side of the building. They entered through the theater
doors, antique art deco beauties that must have been worth their
weight in gold and freight cost.

Dmitry made his presence known
unceremoniously, hoping that his entire day wasn’t about to be
taken away from him. A young woman in stage makeup answered the
call, giving the unfamiliar faces a once over. She was painted to
look like a devil, in dramatic tones of smoke and blood, hair swept
back into two separate french twists that rose into horns at the
back of her head.

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