The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(36)

Lindsey took a few steps to the right and slid one flower into the holder of another portrait. It was of a man with dark skin and hair. Torran realized it was probably the elder Martinez. He’d read all about Maria and her father’s sacrifices for The Bastion on the news feed.

When the blond woman finally turned away, she spotted him. Feeling a bit awkward, he gave her a small wave. Hands tucked into her coat pockets, she walked to him. Her hair was escaping the braids resting over her shoulders and her hazel eyes looked more green than brown in the muted lighting.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said.

“You’re not.” Lindsey sighed, looking sad and a bit tired.

“My friend, Rosario, she’s on the other end.” He pointed, feeling slightly flustered. He didn’t want to appear as though he was following Lindsey or expecting her to just come along with him. Though he admitted a certain amount of attraction to her, they were just becoming friends.

“Did she die that night?”

“Yeah. She was turned,” Torran said, blinking rapidly so tears wouldn’t form.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, we did our best.”

“We did.” Lindsey stepped beside him, facing the opposite direction, her back to the memorial. She bumped his arm lightly on purpose. “Ready to head back?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You sure you want to walk back together?”

“Don’t be silly,” Lindsey chastised him, rolling her eyes. “Like I really want to walk alone in my own dire thoughts of doom and gloom instead of having company and good conversation.”

“When you put it that way...” Torran offered her his arm and was pleased when she tucked her hand into the crook. “How’d the visit with your friend’s mother go?” Torran asked after they’d departed the square.

“Good. I guess. She’s very...” Lindsey shrugged and looked as though she was trying to find the right words. “Well, she’s one of those people who feels very strongly that everyone should do what she says and when they don’t comply, she’s not very pleasant.”

“Sounds like most of my commanding officers,” Torran said with a wink.

“And mine,” Lindsey admitted with a wry grin. “Maria enlisted against her mother’s wishes. She’d already lost Maria’s father, and didn’t want to lose her only daughter, too. And now she’s gone.”

“And her mother’s angry.” Torran nodded, understanding.

“Not just at the Constabulary or the President. But at Maria.”

“I can see that. It’s hard to see someone you love putting themselves at risk.”

“I foolishly hoped that giving her Maria’s medals would make her feel better, but I think I only made her angrier.”

“Well, her daughter was made into Inferi Boon. That can’t be easy to deal with.” Torran gave Lindsey a significant look. “It can’t be easy for you either.”

Coming to a stop near a subway station, Torran observed that the doors were open, but had a big sign indicating it was under repair. He wondered how long it would be before the trains were running again and his long walks would no longer be necessary.

“It’s not easy. I miss her. She’s my best friend. I sometimes think about how she must have felt when she first realized what they’d done. And then I think about how she must have felt when she understood she’d never come back to the city. That they were going to kill the Inferi Boon.” Lindsey brushed her bangs away from her eyes, her gaze set on the city wall in the distance.

“They’re going to pay for that, you know. The trials will happen soon. The news is reporting that Admiral Kirkpatrick may surrender to the Judicial Authority soon.”

“It doesn’t make it easier,” Lindsey responded.

“I know. It doesn’t.”

“Can I ask you a question, MacDonald?”

“Torran.”

“Torran, can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“When you transferred to the SWD and you knew they were preparing for an assault against the Scrags, didn’t you fear it would go the same way as the final push?”

“What you’re really asking is why I put myself in the same spot as before. Face to face with the Scrags.”

Lindsey nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because someone has to do it,” Torran said, shrugging. “And if we don’t, who will?”

“So true.”

“So what do folks like you and me do? We volunteer. We do it again and again, because it’s what we do.”

“It’s what makes us better.”

“Not better. Just different.”

Lindsey squeezed his arm. “Nah, we’re better.”

Torran couldn’t help but laugh.



*



They’d lapsed into silence a few times along their long walk out of the Espana Sector, but the further away they were from the memorial and the ghosts that haunted it, the more relaxed they became and conversation gradually returned.

The crowds moving on foot through the streets of The Bastion were the only bright colors against the endless drabness of the buildings. Lindsey allowed herself to be swept along at Torran’s side. He was taller, and despite his slenderness, the people parted in front of him faster than they did for her. She supposed it was his bearing. Torran wasn’t in uniform, yet he carried himself with authority. Meanwhile, she deliberately slouched in her long coat and tried to look like an average person.