The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(126)

On the horizon, rain was on its way, but it seemed to always be damp in Scotland. Stepping away from the window, she took another long sip of her black coffee. It helped keep the chill out of her bones. Though she was still repairing the cottage, the main area was nice and snug. With flames dancing in the fireplace, it felt cozy even when the wind howled and the rain beat on the windows.

Setting her coffee aside, Lindsey made one more sweep through the downstairs, making sure everything was in its proper place. The combination of restored MacDonald family furnishings and the furniture she’d salvaged from other locations was a little eclectic, but she rather liked it. She had started a new mural of photos from magazines she’d found stored in an old library. She missed the collage of images her father had helped her collect, but her life in The Bastion was over.

She knew Torran had wondered about her collage, but she hadn’t been ready to share the story she and her father had constructed over the years of an alternate-world free of Scrags using photos they’d gleaned from The Bastion archives. It had all started on a rainy day when Lindsey had been very ill during a flu outbreak and her father had searched for a way to entertain her. Her father had somehow secured a stack of paper and an old printer and they’d spent hours creating all sorts of adventures of the alternate-world Lindsey, wearing fancy clothes and visiting exotic locales.

“In another world you’re wearing a fancy hat,” her father had said when he’d pinned the first image of a model in a wide brimmed hat on her childhood wall. “And the streets are lined with trees,” he continued, adding another image of a little girl skipping down a sidewalk.

The new collage only had a few images. Touching each image in the new patchwork of photos, Lindsey whispered, “Real-world Lindsey lives in a cottage on the Scottish moors with her faithful dog, who happens to be a drone, and she wears a long leather coat along with bright red rain boots.” The last image brought tears to her eyes. It was a printout of an image she’d downloaded from her wristlet. It was of Torran. “And real-world Lindsey won’t be alone anymore.”

Wiping away a tear, she hurried over to a mirror to check her side swept bangs and short braids. Her hair was growing, which made her feel a bit more human. The braids weren’t too ragged, so Lindsey donned a floppy wool hat, her leather jacket and heavy boots. Excitement was bubbling inside her and she could barely contain it. Exiting the house, she walked along the path that meandered to the wall separating the cottage from the wild moors. Once she reached it, she climbed up, sat on the uneven stones, and gazed toward the mountains. Though the scene was idyllic, her mind was buzzing with concepts, ideas, and plans.

Beverly Curran had finally sent her latest report that morning. The scientist tended to be so engrossed in her work that she’d forgot to send messages through their secure channels, and Lindsey had to hound her for updates. Sometimes Lindsey thought the scientist saw her as nothing more than a specimen. Every week Lindsey had to send a full bio-scan for Dr. Curran’s records. The truth was that they still didn’t know the full effects of the modified virus or if it would continue to mutate. At first, Lindsey had worried about turning into an Abscrag and occasionally had nightmares about it, but she finally accepted there was nothing she could do but wait and see. When Lindsey had asked Dr. Curran if she really thought she could create an inoculation against the Scrags, Dr. Curran’s response was that she had all the time in the world to try. Of course, humanity did not have that much time.

Maria’s latest message left on the remote cloud simply stated she and Dwayne were safe. Though Lindsey had entertained the idea revealing her new nature as an Inferi Boon and trying to meet up with them, she decided not to. It was best to keep the Inferi Boon scattered and not all in one place for all their safety.

The powers ruling The Bastion were still dangerous.

Lindsey received regular updates from Commandant Pierce via her remote cloud. Despite all of Torran’s hard work, only Legatus Martel had been arrested as part of the Gaia Cult conspiracy.

The Gaia Cult had probably gone underground for the time being and was still a threat.

The Bastion had stopped all excursions into the outside world in the aftermath of the Notre Dame Depot disaster. Elections were soon, and President Cabot didn’t want to take any more risks.

Lindsey would do her best to help from afar. Though she now stood outside humanity, she was dedicated to its survival.

Meanwhile, it was time for her to fully embrace her new life.

At first, she didn’t see the small aircraft. It resembled a bird coasting the air currents, but then it grew steadily larger. If it had been any other day, she would’ve scrambled for cover, but today, she stood and waved.

The silver-black aircraft set down not too far from her location, and Lindsey eagerly skipped toward it. The canopy popped open and Torran scrambled out. The sight of him with his long black coat flapping around his lean body, his cowlick springing upward in the wind, and his joyous grin elicited a gleeful laugh from her lips.

At last, he was home.

“I heard you’re dead!” she shouted at him as he raced down the path toward her.

“I know! It was tragic! Pneumonia. Of all things!”

“Poor Commandant Pierce having to report such a terrible loss to the public!”

“She seemed really choked up about it! Then there was a blackout and one of the aircraft vanished from the inventory lists. Imagine the incompetence!” Torran ran toward her, his long coat resembling wings.