We don’t have a plan. What we manage to string together is a reconstruction of the situation in pursuit of a plan. Facts. That’s what we have and what helps keep my brain engaged in action rather than a complete collapse into grief.
Fact: Kaleb is in trouble with his superiors. The same superiors who had just asked me to spy on him and earn his cooperation.
Fact: I did it, in record time, and now he’s in custody, freely submitting his will and body for the first time since his return.
Fact: From the outside, this all looks good for me. It looks like I’ve accomplished exactly what was asked of me. That I was the one person able to get through to him and draw him toward the light. Opinion: I’m a hero. They don’t know I regret every damn word I said.
Dennel thinks our best course of action is to convince them I’m on their side, that this development wasn’t a mistake but an honest attempt at justice. I need them to believe I’m helping my dear friend.
“They want information,” Dennel says. “Kaleb was right: They’ll be on a witch hunt. We’ll have to do everything in our power to make them think we’re not only on their team, but key resources in their campaign.”
“I still don’t understand how this is going to help,” I recite for the tenth time.
His face darkens. “Do you want to see Kaleb or not?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Well, I don’t know if this will help either, but I know it will get you in to see him. If they think you’re useful, they’ll use you. Once you’re in, you’re trusted, we can work on a strategy.”
He grasps my arms, pupils piercing mine. “Before we go any further I have to know something. Are you in love with him?”
I swallow. I am. Definite fact, but I’m not sure it would come out of my mouth even if I allowed it.
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
I shake my head. “No, I am.”
He studies me, and I’m not sure why I can’t say it with confidence. Maybe because I can’t bring myself to admit something so precious to another person before Kaleb has the chance to absorb it. But I will be telling him. I decide right then that nothing is going to stop me from finally giving him the truth. Fact.
My feet swing in a syncopated rhythm, and I love the feel of their winged freedom before they crash into the brick beneath us. Kaleb shoots me an exasperated look, and I giggle out an apology.
We’re seated on the ledge of a low ornamental wall surrounding barren earth behind 9B. Lunch is the excuse, but I knew from the tired smile that greeted me this morning that it would be a “break” day.
“What’s the point of this random wall anyway?” I ask through a mouthful of sandwich. I’m curious, but I’m mostly interested in the light in Kaleb’s eyes when his mind takes on a challenge. It’s impossible not to be trapped on the rare occasions his radiance leaks out. My pursuit of those moments isn’t even conscious anymore.
“It’s only random now because the context is gone.”
“Only you could get philosophical about a wall.”
“Hey, you asked the question.”
We exchange a grin. If we were in the office right now I’d nestle against him, absorbing that smile with other senses. Touch. Taste. But we’re coworkers out here. Soldier and captive.
“Okay, I’m assuming you know the original ‘context’ of this wall then?”
“I do.”
“And?”
He shrugs, and this time I can’t resist a playful shove into his shoulder. I love his eyes in the sunlight. Blue specks hidden in the pool of green come to life when the sun catches his irises. I’ve never seen anything like it and find myself searching for a filament or some explanation for the curious effect.
“This wall would have overlooked a lawn. Probably some nice landscaping over there, and maybe tables or something there. Mostly this was an open space where the students would have gathered.”
“And did what?”
“Anything. Talked, studied, played games, enjoyed the fresh air. Whatever they wanted to do in their free time.”
Free time? I stare at the carpet of brown grass but have trouble forming an image. “So the wall?”
“Would have been perfect with hanging flowers and mulch around it. It probably would’ve been lined with students talking and reading too.”
“And eating lunch.”
I get my glow. “And eating lunch.”
I study the dusty ground. “I guess it wasn’t built to guard a dirt patch filled with shell casings, then?”
That grin. “Most likely not.”
“Kaleb, what would you have studied in college?”
“Hmm.” His eyes narrow as he surveys the evidence of lost memories. Even slanted in concentration I can see the shimmer of blue sparks that will disappear the second we leave our outdoor oasis. “Girls probably?”
I laugh and shove him again.
“Andie! What’s going on with you? You were a mess yesterday. Then skipped breakfast this morning, now dinner. Are you ever going to eat again?” Vi asks after we’re tucked safely in our rooms for the night.
Frosty air filters through my lungs, that scent of history mixed with disinfectant. I look into her eyes, searching for something. Sincerity maybe? I’m not sure I can afford another ally, but it’s too much to block from the only candidate. Vi is a hard woman—and genuine. Her inner circle may be tiny, but it’s ironclad, and I need her in mine.
“It’s Kaleb.”
“What’s wrong? Is he okay? Is this about that transfer?”
I bite my lip. Instinctive tears climb into my throat again, but I can’t let that happen right now. I need to earn a warrior not a hug.
“Worse. It’s a long, awful story, but the short version is he’s been arrested.” I fight to force out the rest. “He’s going to be interrogated and tried for treason.”
“Treason?” she gasps, and I fire a warning glance.
She lowers her voice. “How is that possible? There’s no way he’s a traitor.”
“Of course not. He’s not …”
I sigh when it becomes obvious there’s no way to ease into this story.
“Vi, I’m going to trust you with something. I need you to promise that you’ll keep it confidential. Kaleb would kill me if he knew I told anyone else, but I trust you and he needs your help.”
She nods, her dark eyes wide with worry.
I drop beside her on the edge of her bed and listen for confirmation we’re alone.
“Okay. So you know how Kaleb has a prosthetic limb?”
Vi takes the story well. Better than I did. She’s all strength where I’m all screw up.
I leave out the part where I told him to turn himself in. It’s irrelevant why he finally did it, and the result is the same. I don’t need Vi to resent me when I’ve got that more than covered.
“What now?” she asks. “We’re going to get him out, right?” Her confidence always finds doors in walls.
“We don’t know yet. Sergeant Dennel thinks we can use the fact that the higher-ups trust me and already expect my involvement. Heck, they formally asked for it.”
“You’re going to play both sides. A double agent,” she concludes with a smile.
I return it. My warrior-roommate, ready for ass-kicking. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it, but since we don’t actually have a plan beyond that, it might be overstating it a bit.”
“Well, you might not have a plan, but your first task is pretty clear.”
She cocks her head at my blank stare.
“Andie, come on. Obviously, he needs to know you’re on his side. If you’re going to be a double agent, he has to know you’re working for him by working against him. If you don’t tell him, he’s going to think you’ve turned and give up when you need him to hang on long enough for us to get him out. Your first step is to draw the line in the sand.”
It is obvious. And yet, no, it hadn’t occurred to me. In fact, it hadn’t occurred to me to start with anything. Those walls? I usually see reinforced steel and barbed wire. I’m beginning to think she’s more valuable than I am.
“Right, yeah, of course. Dennel is trying to get me in to see Kaleb.”
“How many double agents can play themselves on both sides?”
She’s not wrong. It’s a great point.
It’s three days later when I get the call.
Dennel learns that after Kaleb’s initial cooperation, he’s had very little to say. They’re eager to move forward with the investigation, and believe I hold some key to the vault.
I cast a nervous scan over the visitation room. Cameras in the upper corners of the walls watch my every move, prepare to record our words, our reactions. They’ll be searching for clues, hints that tell the story they want to believe, and my hope bleeds into panic. I’d intended to come and apologize, set the record straight. My first order of business seemed so simple: make him understand how much I love him. How easy that would have been in the small administrative office of 9B.
But now, stuck behind enemy lines, my love is irrelevant. His salvation depends on my ability to lie.
The sudden click of the door sends my pulse into a thud. I fight for composure, braced for the appearance of the guard but not the prisoner who follows. A thin white t-shirt and linen pants do nothing to disguise the young man’s slow limp and shackled hands. His head hangs low and another guard nudges him forward with the butt of a gun. Such a damn cliché, yet it’s still a shock that eviscerates me.
I catch the prisoner’s interest with a violent scrape of my chair, barely breathing as his startled expression searches for me. The air stops when his eyes melt into a sadness.
Oh god, his face.
I suck in more oxygen as they lead Kaleb to the table and shove him into the chair. After attaching his shackles to a hook on the table, the love of my life is officially in my custody.
“You have ten minutes. We’ll be watching through the glass. If you have any trouble just send the signal.”
I swallow my anger and manage to retract my claws as they exit the room.
My focus returns to the prisoner, and the silence stings as his eyes venture to mine. Seconds, minutes. I’ve lost any concept of time beneath his haunted gaze, drawn into his pain with a force that knocks all planning from my head.
His face is a mess. Deep bruises surround his left eye, which is almost swollen shut. A split in his bottom lip appears older, but the reddish-purple mass protruding from his right cheek is fresh. Yet it’s the red rings on his wrists that hit me hardest. Evidence of a desperate struggle in the exposed skin when he nervously adjusts the position of the cuffs.
Fact: He’s not cooperating anymore.
“I can’t believe they let you in here,” he says finally.
I swallow the sudden rush of tears at his familiar voice. Deep, raw. I was so ready for this, so prepared to come in here and play the hero. Then he speaks and reminds me of all that we’ve lost. All that I’ve done to him. All that I will do in an effort to save him.
“They just want the truth, Kaleb. I’m sure they don’t want to hurt you. You need to work with them.”
He breaks away, and the pain in his eyes is worse than the wounds on his face. Tears escape me now, and I swipe at molten evidence, hoping my cover as a concerned girlfriend who wants what’s best for this prisoner is enough to hide the fact that I’m a concerned girlfriend who wants to kill them all.
He’s looking at me, studying my grief, and I wonder at his analysis. I’d do anything to be back in his office. To talk freely and explain without the risk of him reading anything but my regret, my love. God, I just want to touch him again.
“Kaleb…” I’m not ready for this. I thought I was. Dennel and I had practiced, but there’s no preparation for this reality.
I love you, Kaleb. I love you so much. Look at me. Show me that you know that. Show me you understand!
“Have they replaced me in 9B?” he asks. “Are you teaching the new person all about RP-7s?”
He looks so tired. I wonder when he last slept. What are they doing to you? “Not yet. They’ve permanently reassigned me to laundry now.”
His scabbed lips crack into a smile. “Laundry. Your worst nightmare.”
I try to return it but my own mouth won’t move. My worst nightmare. The hidden tears threaten, right at the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation. I clear my throat.
“It’s not so bad. One of my roommates is on laundry duty too. Did you know she plays the ukulele?”
He releases another twist of amusement. “I didn’t know that. I’m sure there are a lot of things about each other you don’t know. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. When I left I was worried…” When he left? This conversation is bullshit.
“I’m okay, Andie.”
I bite my lip. He’s not okay. He’s so far from okay, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I thought I could stop it. All those grand plans to march in here and leave with a brilliant strategy. Instead, here’s my evidence of how I showed my love. Those bruises are on me. I don’t care what Dennel says.
I didn’t want this. I didn’t mean for you to do this. I’m sorry. So sorry!
I force an awkward smile that he returns.
I love you. So much. Kaleb, please. Know how much I love you!
The words are bashing against my skull. There are so many things I can’t say as he sits inches away, and I fight a scream of frustration.
My brain summons Vi. She’d have a million ideas right now. Totally annoyed at my incompetence. But I can’t be incompetent. Kaleb needs me to be Vi-strong. He needs me to think. Think!
“You look like you’ve spent the day on a battlefield.” Maybe channeling her will help. He catches on, and I’m rewarded with a grin. A masterpiece this time.
“Yeah, this is becoming a regular look for me.”
“What happened?”
His eyes shift. I expected as much, but I’m curious about the cover story.
“It was stupid. Some guys were giving me a hard time at breakfast this morning.”
I nod, restraining my skepticism. “You’ve been spending time with the other prisoners then?”
He won’t even look at me now. No way he’s seen anyone except his interrogators. “Prison life.”
I examine his hands, his wrists, brand new marks hiding old scars. I want to test our audience and reach for his fingers, squeezing so he finds me again.
It’s all on display. My entire story for him and anyone else who’s watching. My regret. My despair. My love. But it’s not enough. It’s a terrifying feeling not knowing what he sees when he looks at me. The thought that we’ll part even further from the truth than when we started.
“Have you remembered anything new?” A question for them. I will him to glance at the cameras, prove he’s discovered my game, but his eyes only sink to the table.
“No.”
“But if you just—”
“Andie, stop. Is that why you came here?”
No!
He finally acknowledges the cameras, but the timing is wrong now. “I’m guessing they sent you.”
My nerves are raw, muscles clenched. Lies bleeding out in useless determination.
“I wanted to come. I want to help.”
“Right.” We stare at the metal on his wrists.
“At least let me—”
“Thank you, Andie. It means a lot that you came, but you don’t belong here, okay?”
It’s his eyes pleading with me now. His unspoken message filling the void between us. His attempt to clear mistakes and reset our course. This is all wrong!
My hands tremble from the need to touch him. I don’t care about the audience. I slide my foot under the table, resting it against his. Stolen contact outside the intrusion of cameras. He closes his eyes at the pressure of my shoe on his ankle, and his chest expands in an effort to compose himself.
I clasp my hands above the table to prove I’m not embracing him beyond their line of sight. That I’m fine with all of this.
Andie Sorenson, liar.
What about Andie Sorenson, savior?
I have a mission, one goal, and none of us can afford another screw up on my part. Yes, that means I’m long past clever and straight into absurd at this point.
“Remember how I told you about my pop star dream?”
“Yes?” he answer-asks, squinting at me.
“Well, I’ve been practicing one for you.”
“What?”
I don’t wait for him to interpret my puzzle and jump to my feet. I move around the table so he can see me in all my terrible, heartfelt glory, and launch into a song. Horrible as it is, I add an awful dance to match. The only thing worse than my singing is my dancing, and I edge closer and closer to him with each wacky move in the routine.
I stumble on the leg of the table, falling directly toward his chair. He pushes back to catch me, but the restraints jerk him into reality. It doesn’t matter. My plan didn’t involve a rescue, and I direct my fall to catch myself on his shoulders. My lips come to rest against his ear.
“I love you. We’re getting you out,” I whisper while pretending to steady myself. I straighten with a humiliated giggle. “Okay, so my routine still needs some work.” By now the guards have invaded, clearly concerned about my outburst. I wonder if they think I’m drunk or just nuts. Either way, they take no chances and suggest it’s time to end this interview.
I put up a mild protest for show, but really, I have hidden relief to carry back with me. It hadn’t been pretty, but I know it was good enough when my eyes connect with Kaleb’s and confirm he heard every word.
Staff Sergeant Henry waits for me just outside the interview room. I force away panic at the clink of metal announcing Kaleb’s return to captivity and search for a fact.
Dennel is not part of this meeting. That’s a fact.
“A dance routine? Interesting approach,” Henry comments as I follow him to another room.
“It wasn’t an approach. He looked so sad. I was trying to cheer him up.”
“Did we misjudge you, Ms. Sorenson? We called on you because we thought you had the best handle on Lance Corporal Novelli. You do understand the gravity of the situation, don’t you?”
I nod, this time drawing on some tears for good measure. It’s not hard when they’ve become a permanent fixture behind my eyes.
“I’m sorry. Seeing him like that… I didn’t know what to say.”
“So you chose to sing and dance?”
“I just… panicked, I guess.”
Henry softens as he considers my explanation. “You’ve never been in a prison before, have you?” And I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s choosing forgiveness over Cell Block B.
I shake my head. More tears. “The bars, and cameras, and chains…” I press my palms to my eyes, and almost rejoice at the comforting force he applies to my shoulder. “I lost it. I just wanted to see him smile. He always loved to make fun of me and how bad I am. You’ve seen his smile. You know.”
I release my broken heart for the world to see.
He buys it, all of it, but my victory feels small. I’m a great actress when I’m not acting.
“Andie, I’m sorry for this. I take personal responsibility for what happened. We shouldn’t have thrown you in there. We should have prepared you more. Captain Emery insisted on this meeting today, but I could have eased you into it better.”
I clear my eyes. “Who’s Captain Emery?”
“She’s the head of the task force assigned to Kaleb’s case. You’ll meet her soon.”
I hope so and file that name away. “I just don’t understand what you want from me. What was I supposed to do when I saw him?”
“We want you to help him. We want you two to talk about how he’s doing. What’s going through his head, anything he can remember about his time with the rebels. You know, things like that.”
I find the ceiling as though deep in thought. No, I am deep in thought. A path opens in my brain, complete with spotlights and flashing signs. If I can just…
“I want that too, but we can’t talk the same way we did before. It’s awkward now. So uncomfortable with the guards and cameras and all that. There’s no way he’s going to open up to me. Not about anything real, anyway. Who would?”
My argument has an effect.
“I understand.”
“Kaleb and I became so close because we were comfortable with each other.”
“I imagine it’s difficult to get comfortable in that environment.” Another pause. “Let me talk to some people and think this through.”
I block out the image of Kaleb’s battered face in a holding cell in order to appreciate the sheen of my second victory.
“I really do want to help him, Staff Sergeant Henry.” My eerie stream of non-lies continues. “I hate seeing him like that. I just don’t understand why this is happening. I tried to convince him to talk to you like you asked, and now he’s a prisoner. How long will he have to stay locked up?”
Henry sighs. “It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this, but he will remain in custody until we’re certain he’s not a threat.”
“A threat to whom?”
“All of us. Look, I know you care about him, but you have to leave the logistics to us. All you need to worry about right now is supporting your friend.”
“What happened to his face?” I think I do a good job of disguising my anger as naïve-girlfriend concern.
He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there, but according to the report, Lance Corporal Novelli engaged in a confrontation with other inmates. These types of facilities can be a dangerous place,” he adds because I’m still an idiot who does dance routines for her boyfriend on death row.
I swallow my fury at the lie. Worst part, I’m not convinced he knows it is one.
“That doesn’t sound like Kaleb.”
“Sometimes these things can’t be helped. He’s a good kid. I’m sure he didn’t start it.”
I block the rage, the nausea, and determine to wrap this up before I ruin everything.
“Well, I’m afraid for him.” I force a tight smile as he leads me toward the exit.
“I know. We’ll be in touch soon.” He hands me off to Sergeant Dennel who’s back and waiting in the hallway.
“Take her home. Then call in the team. We have work to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Dennel says and motions for me to follow.
Dennel parks in front of 9B, his hard face unreadable in the glare of the afternoon sun. I squint past him to watch a crew of refugees repairing a portion of the path snaking toward Building 7. I’m glad they’re finally restoring the imperfections. I almost tripped on the gaps and cracked stones during one of my walks with Kaleb. Sweat leaks down the temples of the soldier-foreman in charge as he unloads a pallet of stone for his crew.
“You should get to your assignment. They’ll be expecting you,” Dennel says.
The soldier straightens and takes a tool from one of the residents. The others stop as well and watch as he demonstrates some action involving the way it pierces the ground. He hands it back to the resident.
“What did Henry mean when he told you to ‘call in the team?’”
His eyes brush mine before focusing on the grounds crew theater. “I’m not sure. It could mean several things. The team he’s referring to is the task force.”
“You’re on it?”
“Yes. Although as Kaleb’s direct supervisor and known supporter, my involvement and clearance is limited.”
I brace against my next question. I know the answer will split me open. “Would they ever have you participate in his interrogations?”
I feel his attention, but I can’t look. I just need the facts.
“Yes.”
My nails latch onto the door handle. “Have you already?”
“Andie, this information won’t help you.”
“Were you involved in his interrogation?” I repeat.
He sighs. “I was an observer in this morning’s session, yes. Along with several other members of the task force.”
“An observer,” I growl. Such a copout. A witness at best, a coward at worst, but not an “observer.” There’s no such thing in this war.
“Andie…”
I shake my head, finished with this conversation, and go for the door. His grip on my arm forces me around.
“I never said this was going to be easy,” he says. “In fact it’s going to be damn near impossible if we’re honest. We will have to make difficult decisions, and yes, sometimes that means doing nothing when we want to do everything.”
“Like when you ‘observe’ them beating the shit out of your friend?”
He returns a sharp look. “What would you have had me do?”
I don’t know, anything. Anything except stand and “observe.”
“Was Henry there?”
“No. He’s not on the task force. He’s just interested in the case because he’s always liked Kaleb. They let him be involved to a certain degree because of his rank.”
“What about the time Kaleb disappeared for five days? Was that part of this too?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Why? I know everything else.”
“No you don’t.”
Of course I don’t. I’m still thinking like the naïve girlfriend, not the strategist I need to be. But reason does nothing to make me feel better. Reason forces you to be quiet when you want to scream, crawl when you want to sprint. Reason demands absolute patience, and I have absolutely none right now.
Still, if we have any hope of winning this battle, I’m going to have to bury my compassion and rely on reason. Like Dennel. Like Vi. Time for facts.
What could Dennel have done? It’s a fair question. Any direct interference would have revealed his alliance. He could have distracted them to end the interrogation. Fake heart attack, fainting spell, but you only get to play that card once. What were his options this morning as they tickled their prisoner with a few blows to the head?
None.
Observe.
“What happens now?” I manage to remove the anger from my voice. We both know it wasn’t for Dennel anyway.
He studies me, and I sense he’s judging whether he has coherent or blubbering Andie in his passenger seat.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant. I know you did what had to be done. But after seeing him like that, it’s hard to think straight.”
Dennel’s shoulders relax, his stiff soldier scowl melting into an exhale. “I know it is.” We exchange a look. “What happens now is that I go back to my task force to find out.”
“Promise you’ll fill me in as soon as you know anything?”
“I will. I’m also having you reassigned to my office. It will be a lot easier to work through this without sneaking around. I’m assuming you won’t be too disappointed about losing your position in laundry.”
A smile cracks through my gloom. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Good. Although I hear you and your roommate were just starting to click. She’s quite the ukulele player, is she?”
I cringe. “You were listening in on my meeting with Kaleb?”
“We all were. Nice dance moves, by the way.”
“How else was I supposed to let him know we’re working on this? It’s not like I could say anything important out in the open.”
“I’m not judging. You did what you had to do. Talk about a distraction, though.”
I grunt, and he lets me go with a snicker this time.