The Return-4
721 Words
As it turned out, she lived at the Discovery Beach Resort, one of the very towers that had looked down on us earlier (and from whose uppermost floor she had watched us touch down). And while I was mystified at first by her choice of residence—there was no electricity to power the elevators, for example—her modus operandi quickly became clear: for it was, quite simply, one of the highest and most defensible positions in town (the trek up to the 10th floor alone, especially with her in tow, had more than proven that). What was more, it was high enough from the earth that what had happened below could—if you just listened to the soft jazz sifting from her boombox and tried hard enough—almost be forgotten, at least for a while.
None of which is to say I wasn’t shaken as I sat next to her bed and examined the tourniquet on her arm—which we’d fashioned out of a haircutter’s drape while still at the Great Clips—and worried over the appearance of the wound, which had developed red streaks around it and was oozing clearish fluid.
“Well now, here comes Doctor Number Two. I shall need your name as well, sir,” she said, and smiled, toothily, earnestly.
“Hooper,” I said. “Captain Glenn Hooper. Bluespace Aeronautics.”
She saluted sharply with her good arm and lowered her voice. “Pleased to meet you, Captain Hooper.”
I chuckled in spite of everything. “Just Glenn,” I said.
“‘Just Glenn’—he says,” she quipped. She lifted her chin and arched her back, to gaze out the window behind her. “And I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. Ain’t no one who’s been to Mars is ‘just’ anything.”
She yawned and stretched in the thin nightshirt and I looked away. “Well—thank you. But we were just doing our job. I’m sure you had one that was just as important. Didn’t you, Miss—?”
“Cunningham. Rachael Cunningham.” She rolled her head to look at me. “I was a teacher; an adjunct. Comparative politics. Political methodology. That sort of thing.”
Her eyes were cow-brown with emerald highlights.
“That sounds interesting, indeed,” I said—calmly, clinically. It seemed especially important to be so; I wasn’t sure why. “And necessary.”
She hrmphed. “In the age of Tucker? What did it matter?”
She was referring, of course, to Donald J. Tucker, the 45th President of the United States.
I looked at my moonboots, knowing I should let her rest but not wanting to go. “Whatever happened to him, you think? In this—this Flashback, as you called it.”
She faced the ceiling as though in deep thought. “Who knows. He’s probably golfing in an underground bunker somewhere. It’s funny; I saw a caravan of trucks come through town just the other day, flying his flag—like their own little mobile nation-state.”
She lolled her head to look at me and we laughed, softly, quietly.
At length she said, “You must be terribly uncomfortable in that, your spacesuit. You should go check the other units, see if there’s anything to wear. I’ve pretty much cleaned out the women’s necessities, but there should be plenty of men’s clothing; not to mention razors and shave cream. I’ll be fine, really.”
I stood reluctantly and moved to go, but paused in the doorway. “That wound, you know, it has me concerned. You’ll need to be monitored, closely. Is there a thermometer?”
She shook her head.
“Yeah, well. We’ll look for one.”
“There’s a pharmacy at Cornerstone Plaza, just a few blocks away. You can take my Kawasaki; the key’s on the mantle.” She laughed. “But go gently—the thing’s 46 years old.”
I must have grinned. “You don’t say? I had a ’78. KZ400. It was red.”
“So’s this one.” She seemed to think about it. “Isn’t that strange?”
“I guess something’s just click into place like that,” I said, and regretted it immediately. “Listen. You get some sleep, you hear?”
“I will, if you doctors will leave me alone.” She smiled, toothily, earnestly.
“You know it’s funny,” she added, as I was closing the door. “I used to lay awake at night and wonder if I’d ever have anyone to talk to again. And now I’ve got two—more than any woman could need.”
I stared at her through the c***k in the door, unsure how to respond. Then I eased the door gently closed and went to join Maldano on the patio.
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- Writer
