08: Chloe – Reunion

It was a silent bang, all dazzling, blinding light. The black pyramid flashed, every color on the spectrum, then scored by an oscillating roar. It blasted down from above, blowing dust across the hilltop and flattened the remains of the tents. It buried the dead.

I didn’t close my eyes. Despite the wind I locked a glare straight through the lens of that pyramid, onto the faces of every bastard who put me there.

You will look me in the eye when you kill me, you assholes.

My pupils stung, tearing up with the strain of keeping them open. I held another breath, the first already spent waiting for the vaporization I was promised. It was supposed to be instant. While I was no expert on thermonuclear fission, from the scraps of highschool physics I remembered, my blood should have boiled in less than half a second.

Then from the sky shone the light, a singular beam that cut through the chaos. The truth hit me with the flying gravel. Of course. I’d already died. The pyramid had flashed and my death was instant. Painless. Now the angels were calling. All that was left was to step into the light and ascend to the hereafter.

“Chloe.” A voice boomed from above. “Chloe Heralds.”

I never trusted my fate to higher powers, but as proof went it was hard to argue with. The beam narrowed and my guardian angel landed, but neither pop culture nor the tenets of faith had me prepared for the reality of seraphic aesthetics. Turned out angels looked like helicopters.

“Chloe?” it called again.

The voice was one I’d heard not too long ago and when the front opened I matched it to the face of Reece the Copilot. He jumped out, calling my name through a handspeaker. I scrambled for him, waving and screaming as if more sound or movement would catch his eye in the raised clouds. Then a rip of searing pain tugged my ankle back and I fell flat on my face in the dirt.

The chain.

I’d forgotten about the chain! The welded steel tore my flesh and kept me from entering Reece’s sight. I yanked at it, side to side and up and down, anything to loosen the pike in the earth. But each smack tore my skin further and the rising panic filled my lungs with dust.

I heaved and screamed through gritted teeth, already sure I wasn’t getting out of this. And then a hand grabbed mine.

“Chloe, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Reece said. “We got you.”

I jolted up and Reece blurred into focus, but the dust laden sky had become the chopper’s cabin ceiling.

“What?”

“We landed.” He said. “Gonna get you back home.”

“Home?” I said. “You taking me off this hill?”

Reece covered my eyes and propped my head with a cushion. “We’re at the airfield, not on Tel Megiddo any more. You passed out, but you’re safe now.”

Safe now. Words I didn’t know I needed to hear. I squeezed his fingers, then let the shudders rock my body as the tension released from my joints. Safe? Who was I kidding? This was dream or my mind’s way of coping as I died. But I could relax. I could let go and drift into an unconsciousness not enforced by rifle butts. A true, real sleep.

I said something nice to Reece, something to convey my gratitude, something that came out as a dry cough and even drier heaving. I didn’t care. The sentiment was there and maybe I was dead. At least I could rest in peace.

…

The nightmares played out in a loop. After my rescue, Reece dropped me back on the hill where I was beaten and forced to dance and report for the pyramid, which by now had grown its own mustache. Then it blew up and Reece would fly in to save me, before dropping me off on that godforsaken hill to repeat the ordeal ’til the end of time.

Thankfully, time ended a couple of days later. I woke refreshed, able to process my surroundings coherently. Sunlight streamed through a strange window. My bed was soft yet firm, draped with a quality blanket, and a quick check under it revealed someone had dressed me in a crepe gown. The clinical green and IV drip in my vein said hospital, yet something was off. Every surface was rounded, almost inflated to look at. Maybe my senses weren’t as coherent as I thought. Either that or I’d been dumped on a medical themed bouncy castle.

Then a familiar sound lured my attentions outside. The cawing of gulls followed by a fresh ocean breeze churning against winds off surrounding mountains. Only one place in the world had that scent. I was back on Shipyard Island. The son of a bitch had done as he’d promised. Reece had brought me home.

“Don’t you go calling my mama a bitch.” He said. “My mama was a saint.”

I jumped. Reece sat beside me, leant back in a visitor’s chair by my headboard. He spoke without looking up from his phone and I clamped my lips shut. Had I said that out loud?

“Yes.” He said.

“You came!”

“What? You doubting me? I told you me and the capt’n are pros.”

“I didn’t think anyone would. Not towards an atomic bomb.”

Reece looked up from his phone. “Wait, that was real?”

“You thought I was joking? Did you not see what Colonal Mustache did to my ankle?”

He nodded slowly. “You did bleed out quite a bit in the chopper. Ruined the upholstery. But we had a good first aid kit aboard, and duct tape.”

He fished into my bedside table and pulled up a stack of papers.

“Duct tape?” I said.

He skimmed the first sheet. “Water, blood, doesn’t matter. You can seal a leak with duct tape. Anyhoo, you got a bunch of messages here. Your doctor wrote them down one item per page. Like they couldn’t all fit on one sheet. Why does everyone waste paper? You got a dozen reporters demanding to see you for an exclusive, a Get Well Soon card from your editor wishing you a speedy recovery so you can write the exclusive, and one from James Kinsley himself giving you an exclusive invite to head his newly acquired media enterprise. It comes with an exclusive ID badge.”

I took the badge and papers. Reece settled back in his chair with his phone. My name was right but my birth date started with the letters TR and a minus twenty-five, ending with four additional slots filled with question marks. Under my photograph was a designation, Class-A. The photo was a screenshot from my last day as the weather girl.

“What’s this for?” I said, but a knock at the door announced a welcome face hobbling through. “O’Toole!”

He grunted a greeting and made his slow entrance, shushing a nurse’s attempt to loan him a wheelchair. Then after him entered another familiar face.

“Miss Heralds?” she said. “Dick’s told me so much about you. I’m so glad you’re feeling better. It must have been so traumatic.”

“Aren’t you ths Mayor? Mayor Tellus? Hello! I didn’t think you… Why are you here?”

“Oh, I’m not. Not in an official capacity. Dick heard you were back and wanted to see you.”

I turned to O’Toole. “Hold up, your first name’s Dick? Dick O’Toole? Really?”

Dick rolled his eyes.

I laughed. “I’m getting a worryingly clear image of you helping some dumb blonde unclog her pipes.”

The mayor patted O’Toole’s hand. “That’s how we first met, isn’t it dear?”

There was a soft clink as their fingers intertwined. It brought a throb to my ankle, but the rings weren’t links. They were two golden bands.

“Wow.” I said. “When exactly did you two meet?”

The Mayor caressed O’Toole’s hand and showed me the ring up close. Embedded in hers was a notably sized diamond.

“Dick came to survey city hall about eight months ago.” She said. “He told me he thought I’d done a lot of good in office. I thought he was just being polite, but he kept coming back.”

“And by Dick surveying city hall,” I said. “That’s not a euphemism for—”

O’Toole retook the mayor’s hand.

“Actually, Chloe lass, we’re only passing by. Just abusing my lady’s status to sneak someone in for you. We have to go sort out some transfer papers.”

The mayor nodded. “Yes, we really can’t stay. I hope you feel better soon, Miss Heralds, and perhaps we can chat again if the future permits.”

O’Toole ruffled my hair and turned to leave, but turned back when he saw the ID badge. He plucked it from my hand and glared at it before handing it back

“Seems it will.” He said. “It’s good to see you well, lass. Truly good.”

O’Toole and the Mayor left, declining another offer to help his mobility. When they were gone, another familiar face took their place.

“Holden?” I said.

Holden skidded in and dropped to his knee at my bedside. He took my hands in his.

“Chloe.” He said. “It is you”

I returned a squeeze and he sprang up, falling across the bed to wrap his arms around me. They stretched over the bedframe.

I growled at the sudden pain. “Fuck off, Holden! I got beat up yesterday.”

A strong pair of hands prized him off. Holden met Reece for the first time.

“Hey, that’s enough, lover boy.” Reece said. “Your girlfriend needs a breather before you two get physical.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Holden shot me a pained frown. “Am I not? Neither one of us officially broke off from our engagement, as I recall. So if you’re game, we could pick up where we let slide.”

“I’m not.” I said.

“Chloe, I’ve changed. I’m the head of the company now. I can help you in your own career. Personal feelings and obvious mutual attraction aside, list me one good reason I wouldn’t make the perfect lover.”

“We didn’t officially split up?”

“No we did not. On a technicality, we could still be classed as an item.”

“And did you fuck anyone while we were technically still classed as an item.”

Holden floundered. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, so I savored the precious moment before he ruined it with wordplay.

“In my defense,” he said. “Your half year absence could be construed as a non verbal request for a romantic sabbatical, and on the interim women in my life, their visages were proxy to yours. Clearly, even in absentia, my heart belongs to you.”

Reece inserted himself between us and stared Holden down.

“That’s gotta be the biggest crock of shit I ever heard in my life.” He said. “You dick around and your game’s gonna be hey, I was just drinking Pepsi ’til the Coke got restocked?”

Holden stared him back. “Now this can go one of two ways, my friend—”

“I ain’t your friend.”

“You clearly feel threatened. Mayhaps you think you have a chance to integrate yourself into Chloe’s good graces. But my Chlo-clo and I have an intense history, and I’ll bet a man on the prowl such as yourself can smell the chemistry fizzling between us even now.”

“Holden,” I said. “You’re an arrogant ass.”

I threw the badge at his head. He caught it without looking and smoothly returned it to my hand. To his credit, Reece managed the impressive feat of not looking impressed.

“And what’s your second way?” he said.

Holden grinned. “I swallow my pride and admit you’re a hundred percent correct, vowing to improve myself every day for the rest of however long it takes to become the man Chloe wants, and on the rare occasion, even needs.”

Reece reached into his pocket and flashed an ID badge like mine. They were identical, save for the personal details and his mugshot photo. His read Class-C.

Reece smirked. “Look, I’m having trouble keeping up with what you’re saying, so I’m just gonna ask a simple question. You got one of these?”

Holden looked at the badge. “No. I do not.”

“Then let me explain. If you don’t got one, you need to reconsider any future relationships your trying to develop with those who do. Security!”

Reece yelled out the door. Holden brushed him aside and knelt again.

“Chloe, I spent last night in tears. When I saw you blown up, I cried. I don’t know how, but you’re back home and I want you with me. Whether physically or just platonically, hopefully with sexual overtones, but I don’t ever want to lose you again. You’re more than the woman of my dreams, Chlo-clo. You make me want to be the man of yours.”

I’d be lying to say the man’s words didn’t cut deep, but as much as Holden could wax lyrical on any given subject, I had over two years experience dealing with his bullshit. Sure, he meant every word, but Holden Crayson was nothing if not adaptable. As soon as a situation changed he changed with it, and those undying truths were discarded as no longer important.

As I recalled every time that proved true, two security guards knocked and asked what the trouble was.

Before they got an answer, two shots rang out.

The window shattered. Two holes exploded into the ceiling. Everyone standing hit the floor.

“Is it tanks?” Holden said, peering over the windowsill. “This happened to a friend recently.”

“No!” I screamed. The mustachiod face flashed through my mind. “It’s the Mustache! The Mustache wants to kill me!”

One guard stood to see. Two more shots rang. One winged him, taking a chunk out of his shoulder. Holden crawled to a corner and the next bullet thunked into the guard’s body armor.

“Shots fired! We have a breach in the exterior shell!” the other guard screamed into his radio.

The first guard had taken a hit to the chest, protected from penetration but blown back. His shoulder bled from both front and behind. He lay gasping and splayed out in shock while his partner crept to the corner of the window to work out who was the shooter was.

She wasn’t hiding. On the roof of a building across the street, in a loose, all white suit, she fired again. Reece reached over me and pulled the bed backwards, tipping it over, flipping me into his arms before I hit the floor. He held me down and we cowered behind the overturned bed base, hoping would shield us. Holden zigzagged to the window and roared our attacker’s name.

“Alexis!”

A shot unzipped a line of flesh above his right ear and Holden screamed, he clutched at his head and fell to the floor. The guards radioed others outside. They fired at Alexis, who retreated, dodging bullets down nine flights of fire escape to a waiting getaway car. She was gone before anyone could reach her.

An orderly dragged me to another bed waiting in the corridor, this one on wheels. Reece took charge of pushing it.

“We’re taking you upstairs.” He said.

“What about Holden?” I screamed.

Reece flashed his badge at a guard, then raised my hand to show mine. The guard hit a button and the doors opened.

The carriage shot up at a ludicrous speed. O’Toole’s company stamp stood above the readout. We hit floor eighty in half as many seconds and Reece wheeled me past security to park me in the first available space.

“Where are we?” I asked him. “Did you see if Holden was okay?”

“I didn’t have time to ask about Holden.”

“He was hurt! We have to go get him.”

“We just got out of a shootout! That’s your second one in as many days! You’re staying here.”

“Then find out if he’s alright? Reece, please, I need to know.”

Reece hissed through his teeth but got up. He passed O’Toole and the Mayor at the elevators.

“She’s my wife.” O’Toole told the guard. “I’m giving her my place.”

He handed the guard an ID, Class-B, with their marriage certificate. The guard nodded and O’Toole kissed Mayor Tellus goodbye. She thanked him and kissed him back, then fled into a waiting room with his badge. O’Toole watched her go and joined Reece in the elevator.

What the fuck had happened to the world while I was asleep?

I distracted myself, studying the building’s architecture. It was clearly a smartbuild. Computer Assisted Design. Organic shapes, blown mouldings curving into each other. Ugh, the bouncy castle look was blobitecture. Modern architecture could suck my tits. I listed every reason I hated it until Reece returned with news.

“Your boyfriend’s fine.” He said. They’re stitching his head and sending him home. Mr O’Toole went to see him, too. Said he’d make sure he’s okay.”

“I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well you outta try telling him that. He was all set to injure himself even more just so he could stay in the building with you, but, y’know, it’s a private hospital and he ain’t got no card.”

“He’s not gonna do anything stupid, is he?”

“O’Toole told him to go somewhere safe. Apparently the gunner’s his psycho cousin. He’ll hide out at some apartment he’s fixing up ‘cos O’Toole said the family ain’t coming back, even gave him his credit card and a wad of Repose. Don’t worry, he said Holden would know when to take it. Apparently everyone’s just giving theirs away.

“Repose?”

“Yeah, Holden mentioned a girl he was screwing gave hers to his friend yesterday morning.”

Reece had no grasp of subtlety, but he knew exactly where to twist the knife.

“Yesterday.” I said. “He was screwing another woman just yesterday?”

Holden, you asshole.

Ugh. I needed more distractions. I needed chocolate.

“Hey, why does this hospital have eighty floors?”

“Its got a lot more than that.” Reece said. “First five are all security.”

“And why does it need five floors of security?”

“You never stop looking for a story, do you?”

“Answer me, Reece.”

“Alright, I’ll give you the cliff notes. You didn’t get debriefed, being all unconscious and shit. Public services were cancelled today. Police, medical, everything. All shut down.”

“What do you mean shut down? You can’t switch off public services. That’d be chaos.”

“Well that’s what’s happening. This building’s made to keep us safe. Your report brought attention to the final countdown. This skyscraper’s called a hospital but it’s more like an ark, y’know? Keeps us protected while society tears itself apart outside.”

“Out..?” I said. “Where you just sent Holden?”

“Hey, he’s…”

Reece trailed off. He looked down and backed away, then glanced round for an exit. When he found a bathroom, he excused himself before I could demand more answers.

What the actual fuck?

Pieces had fallen into place but so many were missing I still couldn’t see the bigger picture. All I had were glimpses. ID badges, my report, O’Toole marrying a mayor he’d just met, a huge clue to why Holden never talked about his family, and now the disbanding of public and emergency services. What was the connection?

Holden was tough and capable, but if Reece was right, he was wandering through a city where anyone could freely hunt him down without consequence.

What the hell had I started?