Jeff Hirsch - The Darkest Path

“Sick,” I said.

“But later? After that had passed.”

Hill waited, but no words came.

“You knew you had done the right thing,” Hill said. “Didn’t you? Rhames told me a little about the man. The things they found out about him once he was gone. He was so far off Path he never should have been in that place. People like that” — Hill looked toward the back of the Stryker, his eyes far away — “my father was a shoe salesman, and to relax after a long day at the shop, he liked to garden.”

Hill saw my look and chuckled, caught.

“Yes. It’s true. I lied to the girl with the explosives who was trying to kill me. There was a vacant lot near the house where I grew up. It had been an old basketball court, I think, only then it was just cracked concrete and trash, and Dad decided that the neighborhood would be better if it was a garden. He was a good gardener, but his biggest problem was weeds. He’d poison them, but they’d always come back, choking off everything he had planted. Eventually he had to get down on his knees and tear every one of them out by the roots with his bare hands.”

The blue of Hill’s eyes seemed to pulse in the dim light, binding us together.

“Is that true, sir?”

Hill smiled. “Does it matter?”

The Stryker shook as it took another hill.

“Good men try to do good things,” he said. “Great nations try to make the lives of their people better, but there are weeds that hold them back. Weeds like Mr. Quarles. Are we supposed to value the weeds above the garden?”

I kept my eyes steady on Hill’s and slowly shook my head.

“But it wasn’t just that,” Hill said. “Was it? Why you left, I mean.”

“No.”

“Mr. Rhames said Captain Monroe was about to make you take part in the Choice.”

The Stryker shook from an explosion nearby and then accelerated. Hill didn’t even flinch. I dug my hand into the bench beneath me to steady myself.

“Stupid,” Hill said. “The Choice is necessary, but it’s not a place for children. I don’t blame you for protecting yourself against a monster, Callum. I don’t blame you for running, either. Sometimes I think you have to stray far from your Path in order to find your way back again. It’s a truth not many people understand, but you do. Don’t you?”

There were helicopters above us now, at least three, flying low. The Stryker strained up a hill, then fell onto a roadway, and the ride went smooth and fast. Hill was waiting. I said that I did.

Hill reached across and took my hand in his. His grip was strong and firm. My fingertips lay along the waxy plain of his scars.

“You were sent to me in a time of need, Cal. I can’t repay you for my life, but if there’s anything I can offer you, tell me what it is and it’s yours.”

This was it. I knew I should play the selfless novice and deny him at first, but there was no time for that.

“The girl’s name is Natalie,” I said. “We came to Kestrel at the same time. You were right. Her parents had just been killed. She was in pain, confused. The Feds took advantage of her. They made her do this. She can find the Path. I know it. Please spare her life.”

“She’s been in contact with the Feds, Callum. She has to talk. Tell us whatever she knows about their plans.”

“I can talk to her,” I said. “She’ll tell us everything she knows.”

“And she has to choose,” he said. “She may have done it before coming to Kestrel, but she needs to make a real choice for the Path. An honest one.”

Somehow I managed to not let my eyes slip from Hill’s.

“She will,” I said. “I promise.”

The Stryker came to rest and the hatch fell. The war was far enough away that I could only hear an occasional thump, like a book falling from a shelf. I searched for the Humvee carrying Nat, but it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

We were parked outside a low concrete building, one of many that were huddled within a tall perimeter fence. Streetlights glowed around us. I could see signs of an old battle. Charred walls and broken windows. I guessed that Shrike must have been an old Fed base the Path took over as it advanced.

The soldiers swarmed Hill as he moved from one to the next, taking in information and issuing orders. Rhames stood on the outer ring of the group, glaring at me, but once Hill spoke with him, he turned away and didn’t look back.

“Callum,” Hill said, returning to me with a heavily freckled soldier. “Sergeant Parker here will get you something to eat and then take you to have your talk with the girl. You’ll report to me when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, falling easily into the crisp obedience of my days at Cormorant.

Hill flew up a set of concrete stairs and was gone, leaving me with Parker.

“This way, Private.”

“I’m just a novice,” I said as I followed him up the stairs and inside.

“Well, looks like when you save the president’s life, you jump to the head of the line. Congratulations. Come on, I’ll grab you a uniform and show you to the mess. You missed dinner, but I’m sure they can find a hero of the Path something to eat.”

I had to hustle to keep up with him. Hero of the Path. All I could do was ignore it and stay focused. Parker and I weaved through a stream of soldiers, most of whom were wearing more stripes and stars than anyone I had ever seen. You could feel purpose sparking off the place like a live wire. They all knew they were about to win.

“Here you go.”

Parker held out a stack of camouflage and a pair of boots. A private’s stripes hovered over the Path insignia on the arm of the shirt. I hesitated, knowing I should reach out and take them but unable to do it.

“Let’s move, Private. Latrine is that way. I’ll give you five.”

I took the clothes out of Parker’s hands and pushed through the latrine door. The bathroom was empty and stark, smelling of bleach and soap. I dressed as fast as I could, struggling with the awkwardness of my cast. I moved my good hand through my unkempt hair, trying to smooth it back and match the men I had seen in the hallways outside.

When I was done, I stared at the strange figure in the mirror. A flash of gold winked and I reached up to touch the pin on my collar, a sun bisected by a single line. There it was again, that feeling of the present rushing into the past like two rivers into one.

Parker banged on the door. I knelt by my old clothes and dug through them until I found Bear’s collar. I stuffed it in my pocket and then stepped out of the latrine.

As Parker and I made our way down the hall through the masses, I walked faster, my shoulders squaring to match the others. The mess was empty except for a few novices moving from table to table, cleaning up plates and glasses from dinner. Silverware clattered as it dropped into their trays. Parker sat me down at the end of a table and returned a moment later with a tray full of meat, corn bread, and green beans.

“Real Texas barbecue,” Parker said. “President Hill insists on it everywhere we go. Some of us think that’s what the whole war is really about: bringing proper beef barbecue to the heathen masses. You have fifteen minutes for chow. I’ll be waiting down that hall in the third office when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and then Parker was gone.

I drained the glass of milk next to my plate in one gulp, then lifted my fork and poked at the glistening pile of meat. Real Texas barbecue. Just looking at it made me ill, but I forced it down, watching as the novices scrubbed and polished the mess. It was hard to believe that an hour north, an entire world was slipping away.

“Are you done with that, sir?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”