Cliff Ryder - Out of Time

Of all the times in his long and dangerous career, Alex thought that the next few hours, or days, were going to prove to be the trickiest and most difficult. He hoped he had the strength left to see it through.

Behind him the last of the dust settled over the rubble that had been the MRIS complex.

Alex pulled into the driveway and parked beside Brin’s vehicle. He’d taken his time on the way, running the car through an automatic car wash while fighting fatigue and doing his best to just concentrate on getting home. He hadn’t wanted to risk a ticket, and that meant driving with steady control when he felt anything but steady. Fatigue had begun to claim him. His wounds ached, and he felt his shoulder seeping blood into the bandage.

His legs trembled and made working the gas, the clutch and the brake a challenge.

Brin had obviously taken less time on the trip.

Her SUV was dark, and the lights in the living room were lit. He didn’t know what would be waiting for him inside, but he knew he had to get in and face it. If he sat in the Porsche any longer, he thought he’d pass out, and the ache in his heart matched any that his body could serve up.

He climbed out of the Porsche without bothering to lock it. He staggered to the front door and fell against it for a moment, then gathered his strength and turned the knob. As he entered, he saw that Brin was waiting on the couch. She sat very still, and very stiff. Her back was straight, and she held a bottle of beer. There was another bottle resting on a coaster on the coffee table. Alex took the hint. He limped across the floor, trying to keep his face from registering the pain. She never looked up, never offered to help him, and didn’t wince when he gasped. She sat, and she waited, and somehow he knew this was part of what was to come, and he took it in stride.

Alex tried to sit down carefully, but at last, it was too much. His legs trembled and he collapsed, crashing to the couch and nearly causing Brin to spill her drink.

Finally, she moved. She put her beer on the table and turned to him, tears in her eyes and wrapped herself around him. He started to speak, but she shook her head, and he fell silent. For a long time, she held him, and as she did, he felt some of the tension drain from his limbs, though the pain remained, a dull ache that pounded with his pulse.

His eyes were heavy, but he fought for control of his thoughts.

Brin pulled back and studied him. She seemed to be searching for something, and he didn’t know what she wanted to see, but he couldn’t have given her anything but the honest truth of his pain and his love. He had no strength, no ability to think, so he let it all go, hoping she’d sense the truth. They’d always been able to communicate without words.

It seemed like an eternity that she watched him, then, like lightning, she hauled back and slapped him hard. Alex didn’t pull back, but he was shocked. His head rang from the blow, and he felt a flush of pain on his cheek, newer and sharper than the thousand other pains. She fell on him then, pounding, one fist, then the other, beating against his chest, his arms, until one blow glanced off his shoulder and he cried out from the pain.

It brought her under control. Her eyes went wide and stricken, and she fell into his arms. She didn’t speak, but he felt wet tears soak his hair and his cheek, running down his neck. When she finally pulled back slightly, he started to speak but she silenced him, this time with a hand over his mouth.

“Never again,” she said softly. “I trusted you, Alex, trusted you with everything I am, everything I care about—my home, my family, our daughter.

You lied to me. Not a little lie, or the kind that you can forgive, but the deep, bottomless kind of lie that will always be there, just out of sight. I won’t let that happen twice.”

Alex didn’t answer. There was nothing to say.

She wasn’t asking him a question or making a suggestion. She was just laying down the rules as she saw them, and telling him how it was going to be.

She had that right. He knew there was no way to argue. Everything he’d told her about his life, his work and so many other things—all of it had been a lie.

He’d told himself that it was for her own good.

He knew the work he did saved lives, a lot of lives.

He knew that he’d helped more than once to make the world a better place, but for the first time he wondered what that mattered if the tiny bit of the world that was his was skewed or out of balance.

Was it worth it to save the world if the one person who trusted and loved you was hurt in the process, or worse than that, lost? Had his recent decisions now put Brin and Savannah at an even greater risk than they had been before?

“I love you,” she said. Then she kissed him gently, and it was his turn for tears. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to do, but he had no strength. He felt like a rag doll in her arms, but there was warmth there, and when she leaned in this time, much more tenderly, he felt her heart beating against his chest. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t you think you’d better check in?” she whispered. “They’ll be looking for you by now.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her, then turned toward the computer. It sat dark and quiet, and in that moment he hated it. He hated everything it stood for, the secrecy, the lies, the pain. He hated how it had drawn Brin in, despite his years of effort keeping her apart from the darkness that made up his life. He shook his head.

“To hell with it. They will have been watching anyway,” he said. “I’m too tired to report in right now. I’ll do it later.”

She hugged him a little tighter. “Will you ever be safe, Alex?” she asked. “Will we?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He held her, and they both drifted off, fatigue and emotional exhaustion sinking them into sleep.

When a sudden knock came on the door, Alex almost leaped out of his skin. Alex glanced at the window, but there were no flashing lights. The sun was shining. A new day had started.

“Be careful,” he said. “We don’t know—”

It was too late. Brin crossed the room quickly.

She reached the door and flung it open, and Alex flinched. There was a curse from the door, and he saw someone step back quickly as the door flew open. Then Brin gave a soft cry, and he staggered to his feet. By the time he managed to make it halfway across the room, a small dark streak launched through the door and hit him midthigh.

He shook, but stood his ground as Savannah hugged him tight.

“Daddy!” she squealed.

Karen stepped through the door, frowning, and Brin shut it behind her.

“Jesus, Brin,” she said. “What the hell is going on?”

Brin laughed, but the sound had a tinge of hysteria to it, and no one joined her. Alex led Savannah back to the couch and dropped heavily onto the cushions, pulling her into his lap.

Karen stared at him, then turned to Brin and shook her head.

“When you say there’s trouble, I guess it’s true,”

she said. “What happened to him? He looks like he just came in from a war zone.”

“Something like that,” Brin replied, giving her friend a quick hug. “Something very much like that.”

“You should see the other guy,” Alex said, trying to keep his voice light. It shook slightly.

“I may ask you about that other guy one of these days,” Karen said. “I came as soon as Savannah woke up. She hasn’t been getting much sleep.”

Alex hugged Savannah, who looked up at him as if he’d sprouted antennae. Karen had pretty much the same expression as she turned first to Brin, then to Alex, then back and shrugged.

“Everything’s good now?” she asked.

Brin wiped tears from her eyes and nodded. She tried to speak, lost control again and choked on the words. Finally, she said, “As good as it’s going to get, we think.”