Jon Evans - Swarm

Then we both said at the same time, unexpectedly, “No.”

I started, and said to Lisa, “I thought you’d say yes. You were in Grassfire.”

“Yeah. And look how bad we almost fucked everything up. What’s your excuse?”

“Better a government you have to watch closely than anarchy beyond any control. Peace, order, and good government, right?” I said, quoting Canada’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms. “I’ll take that over life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness any day.”

Sophie nodded, satisfied, triumphant. “It’s obvious, really.”

“You think everything’s obvious,” I muttered.

“Not everything. That would be boring beyond belief. Now come on, let’s go home. We’ve got a private jet waiting, and I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get back to Pasadena. They want us to hurry. There’s been some kind of coup in Moscow. Things are still pretty tense.”

She handed me a passport – a brand-new Canadian passport, in my own name – and nodded to the limousine. Its front windows were open, revealing two sleek, hard-faced white men in suits.

I hesitated. Looked at Lisa.

I hadn’t even thought about what I would do with a second chance. Now that it had arrived, a lightning bolt from the blue, I didn’t know what I wanted I would have to think about that.

But I knew already, in my gut, in my heart, what I didn’t want.

“Not today,” I said.

Sophie twitched. “What?”

“You go ahead. I’m going to stay out here for awhile, I think. Maybe I’ll come back next week.” I licked my lips. My whole mouth felt dry in the parched desert air. “Maybe not. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

“A lot of thinking,” Sophie echoed flatly, disbelievingly.

I looked her straight in the eye, nodded.

For a moment I saw her stunned, aching hurt; then her mask slammed shut over it, and she nodded briskly, all cool business. “I see. Well. All right. Good luck finding yourself, or whatever. What are you going to do for money? I didn’t bring you a credit card or anything. Being as how I thought you were coming back to our home with me.”

“I don’t know.” I considered. “I guess I’ll call -” I nearly said Jesse , and winced – “my sister, get her to Western Union some.”

“I can cover you,” Lisa said, “they gave me my bank card back.”

Sophie looked at her, then at me, incredulously. “Right. Well. You two have a ball. I have work to do. A whole world to change. Stuff like that.”

I nodded.

She took a deep breath, forced a hard smile from her quavering lower lip. “Call me when you can, OK?”

I nodded again, and returned her hug. Then Sophie was in the limousine, and it was pulling away, and I felt another overwhelming sense of relief.

Lisa and I eyed each other tentatively as the limousine disappeared down the street.

“What do you think?” I asked, not even sure what I meant.

Lisa considered.

“You know what,” she said eventually, “I think I’m sick of chasing bad guys. Sad to say but true. I think I want to go home and buy a house and a dog and a cat and one point five kids.”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking the ordinary is starting to sound pretty great myself.”

“But most of all, I think I need a freaking vacation.”

I chuckled. “Join the club.”

We exchanged another wordless look.

Then her lips quirked into a smile, and she said, “You want to go get a beer?”

“A beer? It’s seven in the morning. In an Islamic country. And I think Ramadan just began.”

“C’mon, Kowalski,” Lisa said, “where’s your sense of adventure?”

She arched an eyebrow, grinned, and led the way, into the rising sun. I smiled and followed.