The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(33)

“Thanks, Rebecca,” Torran said to the server.

With a smile, the woman hurried away.

“So is the special treatment here because they know you or because we’re military?” Lindsey wondered aloud.

“Probably a bit of both.” Torran made a sandwich of the cooked protein and greens.

“Do you always venture so far out?”

“I’m adventurous. Plus, I get bored staying in just one section of the city for too long. Also, you’d be amazed at how much the cityscape changes. It’s little things, but I enjoy seeing what people are up to.”

“Like what?”

“New vendors. New shops. New pubs. New gardens on buildings.” Torran shrugged slightly, but Lindsey could see the enthusiasm in his eyes.

“An adventurer by heart, huh? Which would explain being in both the Constabulary and SWD.”

“Maybe.” Torran grinned. “Now eat your lunch. We still have a ways to go before we hit Espana Sector.”

Lindsey didn’t want to think about her grim task. Though she hoped Maria was far away and safe with Dwayne, it hurt to accept she’d never see her friend again. How much worse must it be for her mother?

After they finished eating, Lindsey continued her long trek with Torran at her side. Instead of talking about the news, Torran pointed out all his favorite things along the trek. There was a clothes shop that sold vintage military uniforms, a café that specialized in teas, a rooftop orchard of apple trees, and the occasional mural by talented artists that created a colorful landscape in an otherwise dreary world.

Each sector in the city was sectioned off by walls, bridges, and massive gates. The gates remained open unless there was a riot, but Lindsey found the formidable entrances a little disconcerting. Heavily fortified and guarded, the gateways to each sector were a reminder of the world they lived in. Though the gates were used in case of riots, they’d been built in case of an outbreak of the Inferi Scourge Plague Virus.

A clever graffiti artist had painted flags over the entrance of the former countries represented by the population within the district.

“That’s new,” Torran said, pointing at the artwork.

“I hope they don’t cover it up. It adds flavor.”

Walking beneath the entrance, Lindsey felt the slight vibration of her wristlet as it sent a transmission to the monitors at the gate. Another entry into the log of her passage through the city. The only time she didn’t feel like she was under constant surveillance was in her flat, but that was because she was clever enough to get around the monitoring systems.

“Well, this is where we split up,” Torran said with a sigh.

“Thanks for the company.”

“I hope your visit goes well.”

Lindsey pushed her hands into her coat pockets. “I’m not sure what ‘going well’ will mean.”

“It’s never easy dealing with grief.”

Realizing that Torran was the one to notify his squad member’s families of their loss, she reached out and set her hand on his wrist. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’ve never had to do this before.” Though Lourdes Martinez knew her daughter was missing in action and presumed dead, it was not going to make the task any easier. When Lindsey had lost her own family, she remembered the faces of the officers who’d come to notify her at her school. They’d looked so calm until she’d noticed their hands were shaking. At sixteen, she’d lost her entire family to one of the few train accidents in the history of The Bastion. An orphan for over a decade now, it didn’t diminish the pain or the loneliness. Maybe that’s what she needed to keep in mind. Nothing she said was going to assuage the pain that Maria’s mother felt.

“You’ll do fine,” Torran assured her.

“Thanks.” Lindsey drew away and checked her wristlet for the directions to Maria’s family home. “I’ll message you and let you know how it went.”

“We’ll talk later.” Torran gave her a slight smile, then strode in the opposite direction.

Lindsey walked on alone.

The last leg of her journey was shorter and filled with new sights, scents, and sounds. Spanish, French, and Portuguese mingled in with the common language of English. Music poured out of speakers set up at kiosks and there was a bit more color in the surroundings. Artists had covered many of the bland gray walls with murals and panoramic paintings of the old world.

Maria’s childhood home was a four story building surrounded by brightly colored metal tubs sporting flowers, small trees, and herb gardens. Someone had painted the entire building a light blue color. Walking up the stairs, Lindsey stepped aside as children rushed down. At the entrance, she found the security system still in effect and waved her wristlet over the panel and said Maria’s mother’s name. A second later, the doors opened and she stepped into the small lobby with a stairwell on one side and an operational elevator on the other. Wary of the lift, she took the stairs.

The Martinez residence was on the fourth floor and took up all the units. Maria had said her brothers lived near her mother, but Lindsey didn’t realize she meant the same floor in the same building. She recognized a dark skinned man with lots of curly hair repairing a light panel at the far end of the hallway.

“Hey, Mariano.”

“Lindsey!” Setting aside his tool, he reached out to shake her hand. “What brings you here?”