Marcus Sakey: Brilliance

“You’re a goddamn wonder, Bobby.”

“Don’t you forget it.” His partner put the cigarette between his lips, then took it out again. “So what do you think? Will the agency cop to what happened?”

“I doubt it. I’m sure some public relations bright boy is working on the cover story now.”

“‘Director Drew Peters, infuriated by modern aesthetics, in protest shot up a graphic design company before hurling himself off the roof.’”

“Something like that.” Motion caught his eye. The front door opening, and two figures stepping out. “We’re safe here?”

“The house belongs to a friend of a friend, no connection.” Quinn followed his gaze, saw Shannon and Natalie on the porch. The two women were talking, but even from here Cooper could read the stiffness in their postures, the awkwardness between them. Ex-wife and new…whatever she is.

Quinn seemed to see the same. “Yikes. That looks awkward. Better go before the knives come out.”

“Yeah.” He started up the walk, turned back. “Bobby? Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Nah,” Quinn said, and smiled. “You owe me a lot more than one.”

Cooper laughed.

On the porch, Natalie tensed to see him. He could read her thoughts, same as ever. Could see the happiness in her, the relief that he was safe, and the anger over what she’d been put through in the last six months. Shannon had gauze on her ear and blood on her shirt. Her usually fluid posture was rigid.

“Hey,” he said, looking from one of them to the other.

“Are we safe?” Natalie asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s over?”

“Yes.”

“You’re coming back to us?”

“Yes,” he said, and saw Shannon stiffen further. “I guess I don’t have to introduce you two?”

“No,” Natalie said. “Shannon took care of that. She’s amazing.”

“I know.” He let his eyes linger on the fine bones of her face. “You both are. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He didn’t really know what to say after that, and apparently neither of them did either. Natalie crossed her arms. Shannon shifted her weight from one foot to the other. After a moment, she said, “Well. I’ll get out of here, let you be with your family.” She held out a hand to Natalie. “It was nice to meet you.”

Natalie looked at her, and at her outstretched hand. Then she stepped past it and wrapped her arms around the other woman. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Shannon nodded, returned the embrace a little awkwardly. “Yeah. Your children are beautiful.”

“And alive, thanks to you.” Natalie held the hug a moment longer, then stepped back and said, “If you ever need anything, anything , don’t hesitate. Okay?”

“Okay.” She looked at Cooper. “See you around, I guess.” Then she slid off the porch and started down the walk.

Cooper watched her and then turned back to his ex-wife. To most people, her pose wouldn’t have given anything away, but he could read it all, a book he knew thoroughly. The honest gratitude coupled with the discomfort. It made sense; for the last six months, she had been living a nightmare, too, doing it for their children, the same as he had, and in some way, she must have been thinking of him as her partner in it. As a husband again, despite everything. It must have cut her to see the hints of his relationship with Shannon. And hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d explain, make it clear…

“The kids are all right?”

“They’re…they will be. Want to see them?”

“Oh, God yes.” He started for the door, then froze. “One second, okay?” Cooper didn’t wait for an answer, just hurried down the steps, caught Shannon’s arm. “Wait.”

She turned to him. Her face unreadable. “What?”

He opened his mouth, closed it. Then said, “We survived.”

“I noticed.”

“And we saved the world.”

“Hooray for us.”

“So…”

She looked at him, quirked that half smile. “Yes?”

“Well, you said if we survived, you’d go out with me.”

“No. I said if we survived, you could ask.”

“Right. Well.” He shrugged. “What do you say? Want to go on a date that doesn’t involve gunfire?”

“I don’t know.” She struck a pose, paused. “What would we do without it?”

“We’ll think of something.” He smiled, and she smiled back.

“All right, Nick. But it better not be boring.”

“Deal.”

“Deal. Now go.”

He nodded, started back for the house. Thought of something, turned. “Hey, wait, I still don’t have your…”

Shannon was gone.

How does she do that?

He shook his head, grinned to himself, started for the house. The door was open, and he heard Natalie’s voice, and then the three of them stepped out into the light.

Todd and Kate were both pale, and both had been crying. In that instant, he saw what had happened to them, all that had happened. The months he’d missed, and the pressure on them. The horrors the world had wrought. And worst of all, the things that had happened since yesterday, things they didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but things that would mark them. They were wounded, he suddenly understood. Not physically, but not all wounds were.

The moment tore the heart out of him. A frozen instant that he would never shake.

Then they saw him. For a moment, they didn’t know what they were looking at. It was dark, and it had been six months, an eternity at their ages, and for a second they didn’t recognize him.

Kate was first, her eyes going wide. She looked up at Natalie, and then back at him, and then Todd said, “Dad?”

And then they were hurtling down the steps and across the walk and into his arms, and he was hoisting them up, all of them laughing and crying and saying each other’s names and the warmth of them, the smell, the primal comfort, an emotional rush like he’d never known and always known, the thing that made everything worthwhile, and in that instant he realized he’d been wrong.

His part in this war wasn’t over. Not even close.

His children needed a world to grow up in, a future worthy of them, and until that day his fight would never be over. As long as there was a war, he’d be in it.

But for a moment, as he hugged them so hard their bones pressed his, as Todd clutched his chest and Kate buried her face in his neck, as Natalie came down the steps and wrapped her arms around them all, as he smelled his son’s hair and tasted his daughter’s tears, the rest fell away.

The future could wait. For a little while, at least.

There’s an abiding myth that books are written solo, an ink-fingered dreamer stuck in a basement making it all up. The dreamer and the basement are both accurate, but I certainly didn’t do it alone. My deepest thanks to:

Scott Miller, agent, buddy, and brother-in-arms, who not only didn’t panic at my crazy left turn, he told me to write it stat . Thanks also to the stellar team at Creative Artists, especially Jon Cassir, Matthew Snyder, and Rosi Bilow, who put the lie to all the jokes about Hollywood.

Andy Bartlett, Jacque Ben-Zekry, Daphne Durham, Justin Golenbock, and the rest of the Thomas & Mercer crew, who are passionate booklovers building a brave new world.

I’m fortunate to have two creative partners. The first is Sean Chercover, collaborator and heterosexual life mate, whose fingerprints are all over this book. Anything you didn’t like was probably his fault. The second is Blake Crouch, who, atop the summit of a fourteen-thousand-foot peak, helped me turn the slenderest fragment of a notion into a full-blown story…and then gave me the title. Drinks are on me, boys.