The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(29)

“We can do that.” Rose G answered. “Can you tell Mrs. Martinez that we send our condolences?”

“Oh, yes! Please do! We loved her daughter!” Rose B clasped her hands to her heart. “We really did.”

“I’ll let her know.” Lindsey pushed off from the doorframe and backed into the hallway. “I’ll see you later.”

As she strode back to the apartment entrance, Lindsey blinked the tears from her eyes and wiped them away with the cuff of her jacket. Even though she and Maria hadn’t seen each other as often as they’d liked, at least Lindsey knew she could always depend on her for a shoulder to cry on and a bit of advice. Without Vaja lurking in her apartment, Lindsey felt lonelier than ever.

Stepping out onto the trembling staircase, Lindsey stared at the crowded city streets and wondered how she could feel so apart from so many people.



*



Torran dodged about a massive cart weighed down with produce from a private garden. A screen on the side of the cart flashed prices and a few people hurried to make purchases. The vendor wasn’t quite to the big open market just ahead, but he stopped to sell some of his wares. His long dark coat fluttering around him, Torran clasped the long strap of the leather bag slung across his chest, and skipped ahead of the growing congestion. He was anxious to get past the market and onto the main road to the Espana Sector of the city.

It was a relief to finally be out of the SWD Facility. After weeks of debriefings, reports, and dealing with oversight committees, it was glorious to be out even if it was overcrowded and reeked. His long brown scarf caught the wind and he snagged the end and tucked it back into his collar. Treading along in battered boots, jeans, and a navy sweater, he felt more human than when he was in the starched perfection of his black SWD uniform. Also, regular attire allowed him to blend into his surroundings without drawing attention. Anyone in uniform was instantly surrounded by civilians wanting to discuss recent events. It made it increasingly difficult for the patrols on the street, and new rules had been instigated about approaching those clearly on duty around the various security stations.

“...these are difficult times, and though many believe they know the way to our salvation, we must come to the table and work together...” President Cabot’s voice drifted past as a drone slid by.

“Admiral Kirkpatrick is still sequestered in the SWD headquarters and is refusing to comply with the...” the newsfeed from a vid screen in a small café declared over the din.

It was impossible to escape the fallout of the revelation of the attempted coup. The Judicial Authority was deep into their investigation, but was remaining tight-lipped as the seven judges poured over the evidence against Admiral Kirkpatrick and the SWD. The president was making a great show of respecting the findings of the Judicial Authority and not interfering, but Torran was wise enough to know that what the public saw and what was really happening were most likely two different things. He heard rumors of the battle at the top levels of the government, but he was uncertain of what was truly occurring. It was easy to be skeptical of the official story when he had lied about his own experiences outside the wall.

Torran had just turned a corner and started up the long, wide road leading to the next section of the city when he spotted a familiar face. Surprised, he wove his way through the mass of people trudging along the cracked asphalt. Uncertain if he’d really seen Lindsey, he searched the crowd for blond hair. Finally, he spotted her near the beginning of the bridge that spanned the reservoir. It took only a few jogging steps to catch up with her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

Looking up, Lindsey gave him a startled look, then grinned. “MacDonald!”

“Rooney!”

To his surprise, she hugged him. “Wow! So good to see you!”

Torran returned the hug, the layers of clothing between them creating a comforting shield. “Good to see you, too. Did you get my message yesterday?”

Looking bashful, Lindsey nodded. “Sorry I didn’t answer. I was in a bit of a drama with my boyfriend... I mean ex-boyfriend. We broke up last night. Officially. He came by and got his things this morning.”

“Ouch. Sorry to hear it,” he said. The words were slightly dishonest. He’d vividly remembered Lindsey’s eyes staring at him from behind her helmet, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to see them again until this moment.

“Well, he’s an *.” Lindsey shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to let the bad stuff go.”

“I hear you loud and clear on that.” Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he looked toward the far end of the bridge. “You heading to the Espana Sector?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve got an errand that way.”

“It’s a long walk. Mind if I tag along with you?”

“Of course not!”

With a grin, Lindsey started forward. They walked close together, heads angled so they could speak with some privacy among the throng. The stomp of footsteps and loud conversations created a buffer of white noise around them.

“MacDonald, I have to admit: I felt awful leaving you out there.”

“You saved me. I wouldn’t have made it if not for you and the others. We both know that.” Torran couldn’t help but shiver in his coat. That night lived in his nightmares. He often lay awake wondering what he could’ve done differently.