Chapter Twenty-Three

Calee

I sit on a chair to the side, trying to keep myself as unobtrusive and out of the way as possible. The last thing I want to do is intrude on Eric's time with his friend. I look at the man lying in the bed and feel a pain in my heart. He looks so small. So weak and fragile. I can tell it hurts him to even breathe.

But he's tough. He's strong. And he's doing everything he can to put on a brave face and enjoy his time with Eric.

“Don't you dare tell your wife,” Eric says with a small laugh.

He looks at the door as if to make sure she's not standing there watching before he reaches into the paper bag he brought and pulls out the sandwich he'd picked up. He carefully unwraps it and sets it on the bed next to his friend. Steve's eyes light up and a genuine smile crosses his face.

“You've always been a good man,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “I take back all those white boy jokes I made.”

Eric cocks his head. “You never made any white boy jokes to me.”

Steve shrugs. “Not to your face, no.”

Eric laughs and cuts a small piece of the sandwich before handing it to Steve. The man takes a bite and his eyes roll back into his head and he makes a sound that borders on the obscene as he chews.

“My God, I forgot how good these things are,” Steve says.

I watch as they banter back and forth while Eric feeds his friend. I have to admit that it's an interesting and endearing side to him. Ever since we met, I've really only seen him in commander general mode as he gives the orders and tells me how things are going to be. Not that I blame him. In a situation like this – one I'm poorly equipped to deal with – I'm glad to have somebody with a calm head who knows how to take charge. I'm grateful to him for that.

But seeing him with Steve, seeing this sweet, almost nurturing side to him – it's not something I expected from him.

“Calee?”

I shake my head and pull myself out of my thoughts when I hear Eric calling me. I look at him, confused for a moment and realize I'd missed just about everything they were saying.

“Sorry,” I say. “I was sort of caught up in my head.”

“I can tell,” he replies.

I feel the heat in my cheeks as my face flushes again. “Sorry.”

“I was just telling Steve about how we met and everything that's gone on,” Eric says.

Steve nods. “Sounds like you’ve gone through hell.”

I nod and give him a small smile. “It was – difficult.”

Steve looks at his Eric and nods. “Tough girl.”

“Told you.”

I feel myself blushing harder and I fight to keep the awkward smile off my face.

“Anyway,” Eric says. “I was telling him about them finding us at the hotel and how it doesn't make sense. Are those the clothes you wore out at the compound?”

I look down at what I'm wearing and shake my head. “No, Danny had the jeans and shirt for me,” I say. “The jacket was his too.”

“How about them boots?” Steve asks, pointing with a long, skeletal finger at my feet.

“Yeah, these are my boots from the compound,” I say. “Why?”

They exchange a look and something passes between them that I don't understand. Eric turns back to me, a grim expression on his face.

“Give me your boots,” he says.

“My boots?”

He nods. “Yeah. I need to check them.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

I do as I'm told though and take my boots off, handing them over to Eric. I feel a little strange standing there in just my socks. I watch Eric handling my boots, inspecting every inch of them. There doesn't seem to be anything remarkable about them to me. They're plain, black work boots. Functional rather than fashionable. Standard issue out on the Ark.

Eric slides his hand inside the first one and frowns. I see him feeling something down inside of it and his frown deepens.

“What is it?” Steve asks, his voice starting to fade.

“I think there's something in here,” he says. “I can feel it – barely. But it feels like there's something underneath the inside lining.

I watch as Eric starts tugging at the inside of the boot. I hear the sound of fabric ripping and he pulls the whole lining out. And when he looks inside, I see alarm spread across his face. He reaches in and pulls something out that's round and metallic and has a couple of wires protruding from it. Eric looks from it to Steve and back again, his face growing even more concerned.

“What is that?” I ask, a sense of foreboding settling down over me.

“It's a tracking chip,” Steve says weakly. “It's how they've been finding you.”

Eric abruptly gets to his feet and tosses my boots back to me. “Put those back on, we need to go.”

The tension in his voice makes me spring into action. I drop back down in the chair and put my boots on as he stands there holding the device he'd pulled out of my boot.

“Brother, I'm so sorry,” Eric says. “I didn't mean to bring any trouble to your door.”

He shrugs. “They ain't at my door yet,” he says. “Besides, what are they gonna do, kill me? I think they're a little late for that.”

Steve laugh turns into a dry, raspy hacking cough. He grabs Eric by the hand and looks at him, his eyes intense.

“You take care of that girl, Captain,” he says and looks at me. “That's your mission, brother. Your only mission.”

Eric looks at me and gives me an enigmatic little smile. “Yes, it is,” he says. “I'm not planning on letting these assholes get their hands on her again.”

“Good man,” Steve says. “Now, go on and get out of here.”

Eric hesitates and I know it's because he realizes it's going to be the last time he sees his friend. He reaches down and takes Steve's hand, holding it tightly.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Eric says and I see his eyes shimmering with tears. “For everything. You're the best man I've ever known. And I wouldn't be here if not for you.”

Steve looks at him and gives him a nod, his eyes shining with tears also, but too proud to let them fall. The two men stand like that, hands and eyes locked together, for a long moment. Steve finally pats Eric on the arm and gives him a nod.

“Top drawer of my nightstand,” Steve says. “Take it.”

A curious expression on his face, Eric opens the drawer and takes out a small cloth bundle. He seems to know what's in it and he simply nods.

“You sure?”

Steve grins. “Gonna do you a lot better than it's gonna do me.”

“Thank you.”

“Go on,” he says. “I'm tired. Need some sleep.”

“I'll see you on the other side, man,” Eric says.

“You bet your ass you will.”

With one last look at his friend, Eric turns and gives me a nod and I follow him out the door. He's still carrying the metal disc he pulled out of my boot and after we say our goodbyes to Steve's wife, we walk back out to the car.

As I get in, I don't know what to say. About anything. So much had happened in such a short period of time that I'm having trouble even processing it all. Eric looks up and down the residential street, eyeing every car parked on the side of the road. He slips behind the wheel and starts the engine, his face tight.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Two men in a car parked a few houses down,” he says. “Might be friends of yours.”

I turn and look but can't see anything. Sitting back in my seat, I feel my pulse quickening.

“What are we going to do?” I ask.

“Get them away from Steve's house for one,” he says. “After that, we'll have to play it by ear.”

I nod. “What was in that cloth he gave you?”

He sets it down in my lap as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb. I unfold the cloth and stare down at a gun. My hand is trembling as I touch it, surprised at how cool the metal is. It's solid black except for the green four-leaf clover engraved into the handle of the gun.

“He always had it with him back in the Shit. Never went anywhere without it. Not even the latrine,” he says and chuckles. “Said it was his good luck charm. Kept him safe, so who am I to argue?”

I see him checking the rear-view mirror constantly as we drive down the street. He nods to himself as he speeds up a little.

“They're following us,” he says. “I don't know if they know I spotted them or not, so play it cool.”

I resist the urge to turn around and look for myself. In that moment, the most important thing is to get them away from Steve and his wife. They don't need to be caught up in this mess too.

“The good news for us is that these clowns aren't going to want to draw attention to themselves. They won't want to take the risk,” Eric says. “Which means that as long as we stick to populated areas, we'll be okay for a little while.”

“Do you think you're going to need this?” I ask, motioning to the gun in my lap.

“I sure hope not,” I say. “I've never been that great with them.”

I wrap the gun back up and slip it under the seat. My head is spinning with a thousand different thoughts and emotions. But at the moment, the overriding emotion is fear.