Ford
I lay awake on the porch, my cot firm and unyielding beneath me. Usually, I don’t even notice the taut fabric, but tonight I can’t seem to get comfortable.
After our argument earlier in the day, I thought it best to move outside.
It was never really necessary to sleep in the hut anyway. I realize now that it was just my attempt to get closer to Adelaide.
I should’ve slept out here from day one. Just one of many things I should’ve done differently, but not the least—which is never accepting this assignment to begin with.
My fight with Addie plays on repeat in my thoughts, our words echoing around the cavernous space of my head.
I wish that things could have gone differently. I know that I’ve made the right choice in leaving, but I at least had hoped we could have a decent goodbye. Now, even that has gone to shit.
It’s just as well. A heartfelt farewell only would have made this harder. Better to leave on a sour note.
It’s easier that way.
From inside the hut, the sound of Edgar’s whimpering filters out to me, the tension palpable even to him.
His cries rub against my senses like sandpaper, urging me to go in and comfort him.
With a growl of frustration, I turn to my side—facing away from the hut.
I can’t go in there. I don’t belong there anymore. Not that I ever really did, but now I can’t even trick myself into thinking so.
The cot creaks underneath me as I toss and turn, wanting morning to come quickly. At least in the light of day, there will be distractions.
At least, I’ll be able to see Addie.
I clench my hands at this last thought, willing myself to be practical.
Addie and I are finished. Seeing her won’t help a damn thing.
The air is heavy with heat, adding yet another level of discomfort to my current situation. My shirt clings too tightly to my skin, sweat pooling at my hairline.
I turn to lay on my back with a sigh.
It doesn’t seem like sleep is coming tonight.
I give in to the insomnia, letting my mind wander where it wills.
Not surprisingly, everything that comes to mind is distinctly unpleasant. My mistakes in the CIA, my foolish choices when it comes to the lives of others, this disaster with Addie...
All of my misbegotten decisions run rampant in my skull, mistakes that took decades to build all flashing through my thoughts in moments.
Only to repeat again.
And again.
The sound of my cot squeaking echoes through the night, the only noise in the stillness of the village.
At some point, I suppose I must sleep, though my dreams are only more of the same, virtually indistinguishable from my waking thoughts.
My only indication that I’ve slept is waking. Sunlight finds me, filtering through my eyelashes to drag me back to the world of the living.
I blink blearily up toward it, willing myself to get up and face what comes next.
With a groan, I do.
My muscles feel stiff as I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
I glance around at the still sleeping village, wondering when Adelaide will be awake.
Edgar’s cries have quieted sometime in the night, and I’m relieved to know that he’s calmed somewhat.
I’m debating whether or not to peek in on them when the door opens, its creak startling in the quiet.
Addie looks down at me from the doorway, an emotionless expression plastered across her face.
“I’m going to the hospital,” she informs me curtly.
I nod in response, standing to follow.
She raises an eyebrow as she watches me rise, impatience clear in her gaze.
“Seriously? Aren’t you leaving anyway?”
“Yes, but until your new guard shows up it’s still my job to protect you.”
“Right, protect me,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I deny the bait, instead slipping into my boots quickly.
Still, she’s down the porch by the time I stand, causing me to rush to catch up to her.
“Can’t you just take the day off?” she asks, scowling back at me.
If only.
Having to be in her presence all day is going to hurt. Honestly, I’d rather avoid it.
I meant what I said though.
Until my replacement arrives, I’m not taking my eyes off her. I refuse to let anything happen to Adelaide, whether she hates me or not.
“No,” I simply say, meeting her gaze unblinkingly.
She groans but turns her eyes forward again, blessedly dropping the subject.
We walk in silence the rest of the way to the hospital, tension heavy in the air between us.
By the time we reach the hut, I’m actually happy for the distraction of the ill. I quietly choose a vacant corner, watching attentively as Adelaide goes about her duties.
I clamp down on the voice of hope that tries to rise within me as I watch her work. The voice that screams at me that I’m making a mistake here.
Just look at her, it says. Isn’t she amazing?
For her part, Addie does a good job of ignoring me, her thoughts clearly wrapped up in the tasks at hand. I’m glad that she has that. It’s her own version of the calm detachment that I have when on the job.
With effort, I reach for that cool unfeeling state now, clinging to it like a life raft in a storm.
Hours pass this way: her working, me trying to blend seamlessly into the walls of the hospital. When she leaves, I follow, always keeping a comfortable distance.
Around midday, a commotion outside draws my eyes to the door of the hospital, excited whispers pulling at my ears.
I hold a hand up at Addie.
Stay put.
I take her eye roll for agreement.
Stepping back into the sweltering heat of the day, I’m surprised to see a familiar face.
“Oliver?” It’s a stupid question really. I mean he was one of the names I gave Sten.
“Ford!” he replies, reaching out a hand as he nears me. “Well, fancy meeting you here.”
“You’re taking this post,” I grunt, more for something to say as opposed to expecting an answer.
He looks skeptically around, eyeing the dilapidated huts and whispering villagers, and says, “Seems that way.”
This is good news. I’m not happy about leaving Adelaide, quite the opposite in fact. If I have to go though, which I sure as fuck do, I’m glad she’ll be left in such capable hands.
Oliver is a good man―a professional. The fact that he’ll be here to watch over Addie relaxes me a little.
“Well, let me introduce you to your new primary,” I say, gesturing towards the hospital.
He nods once, retrieving his knapsack from the ground where he set it.
“Lead the way.”
Adelaide eyes us skeptically as we enter, her gaze swiping quickly across Oliver.
“Adelaide,” I say, “this is Oliver, and he’ll be picking things up from here.”
I see sadness wash rapidly across her face, there and gone so fast I question my own eyes.
“Okay,” she finally says, extending a hand. “I’m Adelaide.”
They shake quickly.
“Would you like to give him the tour, or should I?” I ask.
She scowls in my general direction. “I’m very busy.”
Her curt tone cuts through me, something I’ll never get used to.
“Okay, I’ll show him around before I leave then,” I say, letting my words trail off slightly at the end.
I know that this was my choice, but part of me is still hoping that she’ll convince me to stay.
It’s fucking foolish, but there it is.
“Fine, goodbye,” she responds, drawing me from my thoughts.
Her finality makes my heart ache. Still, what more is there to say?
“Goodbye, Adelaide,” I say, showing Oliver from the hut
I don’t look back as I exit, knowing full well that Addie won’t either.
I push my feelings to the back of my mind, wanting them to stay there as I quickly show Oliver around the village.
He eyes the highlights, echoing my own words back to me for confirmation. The tour is understandably short, ending with Oliver choosing the location for his tent.
It’s close to our—Addie’s—hut, but far enough that she won’t feel smothered. She’ll appreciate that.
I find myself offering to help him set up, trying to drag out my last moments here, though I’m not sure what the point is.
“I’ve got it, thanks. I’m sure you’re in a hurry to leave anyway.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I accept his handshake, wishing him luck that he again echoes back.
With that, I find myself out of tasks.
I look longingly around me, taking in my true final glance of this place.
It may have been a mistake to come, but I’m sure finding it hard to leave.
After a long moment, I gather my belongings, tucking them efficiently into my own bundle before heading towards the truck.
I sit in the passenger seat as the engine roars to life. My driver’s a boy of no more than sixteen.
“Airstrip?” he asks.
I nod in response, watching the village slowly shrink behind us, dust kicking up in our wake.
Before long, the cloud of dirt obscures my vision entirely, the village lost forever from view.