Anthony DeCosmo - Fusion

He went on, “I never asked for any of this. Never wanted it.”

“I know. I mean, when I really think about all that has happened I don’t really blame you. You’ve done the best you could. Better than my dad ever would have thought, right?”

This time he snickered.

“You too,” he told her honestly. “You were dealt a bad hand, Ashley, but you rose up. I don’t say this a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But Ashley, I’m proud of you. I admire you, too. You deserve better. I’m sorry I was never able to give that to you.”

She quietly told him, “And now you’re going to take away the only thing that matters to me.” But no argument remained in her voice; she merely spoke the truth.

Ashley gently pulled free of his hug, sat straight on the couch, and studied him for several long seconds. He returned her gaze and for a moment he saw beautiful Ashley Trump of a decade ago whom he had somehow convinced to fall in love with him. She had been his dream. In return, he had put her through a nightmare.

She spoke without any acid in her tone, but with strength.

“I know you wouldn’t do this unless you thought it would work. Whether it does work or doesn’t, either way the end is coming soon, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

Ashley told him, “I won’t be here when you get back. It doesn’t matter, not really. The TV cameras are pretty much gone. I don’t think appearances are important anymore. So you don’t need me by your side. It’s all in your hands now, Trevor. You, your Generals, and I guess our son, too. If he’s not here, there’s no reason for me to be.”

Trevor bowed his head and accepted her words.

Ashley finished, “Point is, there’s a life out there somewhere; my life. I need to find it, in what little time I have left.”

Ashley stood at the bottom of what used to be the stairs to a small cottage on the rim of the lake. A wooden ramp covered those stairs now, offering a gentle slope from the quaint porch to the blacktop driveway alongside the small, one-story home.

In her hand she held a bound, blue booklet that bore the logo of an open hand with an eye at the center. The title printed below the symbol offered a cryptic clue as to the contents: Imperial Intelligence Summary Report: Voggoth Prime.

Ashley knew from her tear-filled discussions with Trevor that the report detailed the location of The Order’s primary base of operations on Earth, half a world away.

She took her eyes from the report and looked at the cottage entrance again. Behind her a car drove around the lake perimeter road causing a small breeze of wind to offer slight relief from the humid morning air.

Ashley grunted with resolve and climbed the ramp. She knocked on the metal-framed screen door. A few seconds later the heavier white-wood interior door opened and an older gentleman in casual dress greeted her. She noticed that one of the man’s hands had been replaced by a plastic prosthetic, no doubt a wound suffered while in service to Intelligence.

“I’m here to see Gordon.”

“He is not taking any visitors,” the man answered in a voice lacking any emotion, any concern. He could have been a robot.

She held the booklet up and said, “It’s about the report he sent over. Tell him there is a big problem with it.”

The man’s eyes widened as if Ashley had just insulted his mother.

“Wait here,” the man closed the door.

If any other servant in The Empire had tried to dismiss Ashley so casually, she probably would have exploded. But she knew that the man served Gordon Knox.

The door opened again, this time all the way. Ashley walked in.

A hallway ran the length of the cottage from the front to a rear kitchen. Wide archways to either side of the hall opened to other rooms, all coated with hardwood floors. She saw very little furniture and no mirrors. The air smelled stale.

“He’s in his study,” the servant directed and Ashley found her way.

She came upon Gordon in one of the rooms at the back of the house. A big, sliding glass door offered access to a wood deck overlooking a yard surrounded by tall pine trees. Inside, computers and printers, video screens and a HAM radio with a glitzy LCD display, formed a ring around the center of the room. A simple ceiling fan revolved slowly above it all.

Gordon Knox sat in his wheelchair near the sliding glass door his eyes staring outside.

Ashley paused.

“May I come in?”

Without turning Gordon replied, “Yes. Of course. What will we be reading today?”

Ashley said, “Tomorrow is our reading day, remember? And besides,” she walked to his side, “you know we haven’t finished Heart of Darkness yet.”

“Ah, yes, we haven’t even met Kurtz, yet, have we?”

“So you have read it before,” she smiled as if she had won a bet.

He finally turned. “I admit it, yes. But it sounds different when you read it. It sounds- better. Of course you don’t have to, you know. I’m more than capable of reading. The eyes, at least, still work just fine.”

“I enjoy our time together.”

“Yes,” he mused. “I suppose this monster isn’t quite so scary anymore.”

She swallowed hard and insisted, “You are not-you never were-a monster.”

“Yes, I was,” he corrected with no malice. “That’s why you were always afraid of me. That’s why you turned to me last summer. You needed a monster.”

“I was never afraid of you.”

He ignored her. “I suppose that is one good thing to come out of this,” he patted his hands on the wheelchair rails. “You’re not afraid anymore. Thank you for visiting with me and reading to me each week. It’s a bright spot in what has been a very bad year.”

“I enjoy it too.”

“So why are you here, if not to read to me? It’s not the report. There’s nothing wrong with it.” His voice suggested he found it amusing she would say as much.

She looked at the booklet in her hand then at him again.

“It’s missing something.”

“What?” He took the book and paged through. “It’s all here. Everything we know about Voggoth’s position. The temple, the Urals-years of strength estimates. Do you know how many agents we lost? Do you know how many of our European friends we lost? No, it’s all here. It’s-”

“It’s missing you.”

Her statement puzzled Gordon.

She did not wait. She pushed, “I’m not letting you send couriers over with your intelligence reports. That’s not enough. There’s a meeting today and you need to be there.”

His faced glowed red. His hands pulled into fists.

“I told you before, I can do my job from here. Besides-besides I don’t think-I don’t want people to see me-it’s better if I stay in the shadows.”

“That was good enough for a while. But it’s not good enough anymore. The end is coming, Gordon. This meeting may be the last one we ever have. Trevor needs more than your reports, he needs your insights. He needs your thoughts. He needs that more than ever.”

Gordon shot, “Well that’s not what I do anymore.” He pushed the joystick on his motorized chair and wheeled into the center of his ring of equipment. “I work from here. This is my nerve center. From here I can communicate with the field offices, with agents, with ships and military posts. I analyze the data as it comes in. My reports are the best they have ever been. And they will have to be enough.”

“Who is afraid now, Gordon?”

He turned to her, still red-faced.

“Don’t try that reverse psychology bullshit on me. Do you really think I’m that stupid? You think you can guilt me into something?”

“Okay, fine,” she returned his stare and, surprisingly, he blinked. She was, after all, the one person who could give him pause.