Defenders (32 page)

Kai smiled wanly, remembering the night she finally let him stay over. It turned out she slept with all the lights on, the TV blaring old romantic comedies. She’d been embarrassed for Kai to find out.

After a few sleepless weekends in Lila’s brightly lit and loud bedroom, Kai tried to convince her to sleep with the TV and lights off. He was there, he’d said. That would replace the lights and TV. She would be safe.

Lila got angry. Everyone was fucked-up in some way, she’d said. Everyone coped in their own fashion. She wasn’t going to give up the things that comforted her, so if they were going to have a future together, they’d have to find a solution that didn’t involve turning the lights out.

When she’d finished, Kai was speechless. It was the first time Lila had suggested there was a “they,” and a potential future for them, and Kai had been dumbfounded with happiness. Lila took his silence for anger and said, “Are you saying you weren’t damaged by the war, that you don’t have any scars?”

Kai couldn’t keep from laughing. “Lila, I’m the Boy Who Betrayed the World, remember? What do
you
think?”

He bought earplugs and a sleep mask, and moved in.

There were big doors in the back, to cart pallets out of the delivery area using a forklift. Kai checked the delivery area to make sure there were no unfriendlies skulking around. He was about to start shopping when he heard a voice.

Catching the door before it shut, he went back inside and spotted a soldier looking up at him from the floor. She was lying at one end of a thirty-foot-long bloody streak. She’d dragged herself along the floor that far.

Kai squatted beside her. She’d taken three or four shots to her thighs and lower abdomen, the oversized bullets taking pieces out of her.

“Can I have a drink of water?”

Kai had left his canteen with the defender. He sprang up. “I’ll get some.”

He pulled a canteen off one of the bodies, found a medic’s bag on one of the others, and grabbed that as well. On the way back, he called HQ to request a medic. They didn’t mention him being AWOL; in all likelihood they’d lost track of him, thought he was dead. They told him they couldn’t afford to send one, so he would have to bring the wounded soldier back to them.

What was he supposed to do, pull her in a little red wagon?

She was middle-aged, Indian or Middle Eastern. Kai helped her roll onto her back. When she’d managed a few gulps from the canteen, he set it aside.

“I told them I was a stockbroker,” she said, gasping. “They said that meant I was smart, so I should be in demolition.”

“I told them I was a gambler. They gave me a rifle.”

She didn’t laugh.

“What’s your name?” Kai asked.

“Sudha. Are they all dead?”

Kai nodded.

“I couldn’t reach it,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“Reach what?”

“It was all set.” She looked at the ceiling. “Shit. It was all set.”

Kai looked up, tried to see what she was looking at, but it was too dark. The only light in the room came from an open bay door.

“Then they got Aiken, and I couldn’t reach it.”

He looked at the blood streaked across the floor. She’d been trying to reach something. He followed the line in the direction she’d been going, and saw another soldier, dead, lying beside a forklift.

Demolition.
It was all set.
“You wired the store with C-4?” he guessed.

Sudha swallowed, nodded.

Kai pointed at the body. “Aiken had the detonator, but he was killed, and you couldn’t reach it in time.”

She nodded again.

They were going to lure defenders into the store, go out the front, and blow the roof down on top of them. But the defenders caught them before they were ready.

“How are we doing out there? Are we holding them off?” Sudha asked.

Kai nodded vaguely. He had forgotten about the medic’s bag. He rummaged through it, found some pre-dosed morphine shots, and gave one to Sudha.

“Where’s the detonator?” Kai asked.

“His comm. Push
SEND
and…” Sudha mimicked the sound of an explosion.

Kai unpacked the medic’s kit and did what he could, which was to cut Sudha’s uniform away from the bullet wounds, pack the wounds, and cover them with bandages. Despite how many he’d seen in the past five months, he still hated the sight of wounds.

“I called for a medic, but they said they couldn’t get one out here just yet. We’re on our own for now.”

Sudha didn’t seem surprised. “A lot of wounded.”

It was getting dark. Kai went inside the store and gathered some bedding. He made Sudha as comfortable as he could, gave her a second shot of morphine, then spread out a pile of blankets for himself.

“You going to try to get some of them?” Sudha asked as they lay in the near darkness.

“I’m thinking about it.” He hadn’t been. Not consciously, anyway. Now a sick dread blossomed in him as he realized he was. He could devise some way of luring them inside while he hid outside.

“If I’m … not here when they come, turn on the generator. It’s hooked to lights and a portable stereo at the front of the store. If I’m around, I can draw them in.”

“Sudha, I’m not going to use you as live bait. I’ll get us both out of here.”

“I want to die.” Her tone was almost scolding. “My children are dead. I signed up so I could get killed.”

Kai didn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t going to prop her up with a rifle and leave her here while he hid outside with a detonator. He wasn’t even sure he was going to try this.

When Kai woke, it was still dark outside, and Sudha was dead. It took him a moment to realize what woke him: engine noises, growing louder. Kai pulled a blanket over Sudha’s face, then took his flashlight and went over to her friend Aiken. He found the comm. The
SEND
key was painted red.

If he was really going to do this, he needed to get to work.

An alternative plan would be to hide in a pile of clothes until they were gone. Then he could find a little red wagon and use it to haul the generator back to the house where he was staying. He could watch movies until the war was over.

Glancing one last time at Sudha, Kai killed his flashlight and trotted toward the front of the store, as the defender vehicles approached, sounding like a hundred Harley-Davidsons revving. He ducked as powerful spotlights painted sections of the store white.

Squatting behind a checkout counter, Kai peered out at the front parking lot. He counted seven defenders—likely a reconnaissance team coming in advance of the main ground force.

If he turned on the generator, they’d have to go around to the back and make their way to the front of the store. That’s when he’d slip out the front and blow the roof. The problem with that plan was, not all of them would go inside. Soldiers would be stationed at the front and back entrances. The demolition team’s plan was to turn on the generator before the defenders arrived, then hide somewhere outside, out of sight. It was too late for Kai to do that.

No—better to go with the alternate plan. Hide, then haul away the generator. Kai headed toward Men’s Clothing.

He spied a side door—a fire exit. The defenders might miss that one. He could turn on the generator, wait for them to get into position, then slip out the side door.

He shifted from one foot to another, unsure. Five or six fewer defenders wasn’t going to turn the tide of the war.

If that was the case, why had he volunteered in the first place? He could have stayed with Errol. Had it all been to avoid the shame, the disdainful looks of people who wondered why a healthy twenty-eight-year-old wasn’t fighting? Not entirely. He was a pragmatist, but not a complete cynic. He believed in the social fabric that bound him to others. He just wasn’t sure he believed in it strongly enough to die for it.

The comm sat in his sweaty palm. To hide felt like a betrayal of Sudha and the others who’d died after rigging the C-4. Of course, he was the Boy Who Betrayed the World. Betrayal was his specialty. Wasn’t that why he’d gone AWOL?

He headed for the generator, moving as quickly as he could in the near darkness.

Running his hands over it, he located the power switch. Before doubts and second thoughts could creep back in, he flipped it.

A bank of overhead lights flipped on, blinding him. Music blasted from a stereo near the front windows. He recognized it—a Frank Sinatra song, “Baubles, Bangles, and Beads.”

Bent at the waist, Kai sprinted for the side door, marveling at the synchronicity of hearing Sinatra at this moment. Lila loved Sinatra. For some reason she loved old hokey 1940s music. At first he’d made fun at her antique taste, but in time it had grown on him.

Easing the side door open, Kai looked outside, just in time to see five defenders whizz by in a transport vehicle. On the main road beyond, dozens more defender vehicles were winding along the main road, almost bumper to bumper. He wondered how he was going to get out of there.

First, he had to get out of the store. Kai heard muffled footsteps, then the creak of the big swinging doors that separated the main store from the back. Defenders were in the store with him. From the open side door, he looked left and right. He didn’t see any defenders, so he slipped out, eased the door shut, then raced across the parking lot and ducked behind a van.

Keeping his head low, Kai moved from vehicle to vehicle, heading toward the front of the store. Soon he could see two defenders guarding the front entrance, rifles ready, peering inside. Sinatra was singing “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.”

Heart pounding, Kai looked at the comm. If he was going to do it, it had to be now. Ducking as low as he could behind a big black pickup truck, he pressed the detonator.

Nothing happened.

“
Shit.
” They were demolition people, for Christ’s sake—how could they have screwed up something as crucial as a detonator? Kai pressed the key again, and again. It was no use. He tried to think of reasons why it might not be working. Usually the solution to a mechanical problem was something simple and obvious.

The comm’s light lit when he pressed the
SEND
key, so it had power. Was he too far away? That could be it; he was a good two hundred yards away.

With every muscle clenched in anticipation of discovery, Kai lifted his head, saw the two defenders peering into the store, probably puzzling over the dead bodies and sudden music.

He bolted from behind the truck and ducked behind a Toyota thirty feet closer. He tried the detonator. Nothing.

He ran for another car, fifty feet closer to the store. One of the defenders turned to speak to his companion just as Kai ducked. Heart hammering, Kai steeled himself, expecting a shout of discovery, the roar of rifle fire, but it remained quiet.

He pointed Aiken’s comm at the Target, tried the detonator again.

The explosion startled him. Pillars of fire erupted from under the eaves of the store’s roof, then the roof dropped out of sight, as if it had been pounded down by a giant fist.

The defenders outside the store were thrown backward by the blast. One slammed into their transport; the other landed on the ground on his back as steel, wood, and plaster rained down.

Maybe Kai should have felt elated, but in that moment all he felt was scared. He’d made his presence known, and now they’d be looking for him. He needed to hide. The car he was hiding behind was locked. Looking around, he spotted a row of vehicles that had been melted by a Luyten heater gun years earlier and no one had ever bothered to haul away. He raced over as the defenders’ second transport vehicle came roaring around from behind the stores. The driver was the lone passenger.

Kai chose a white Honda minivan. The back half of the van was badly melted, the back tires nothing but puddles around the rims, but the front was intact and open. As he shut the door, he heard a shout that curdled his insides.

The transport vehicle roared toward him.

They’d spotted him, or maybe spotted the movement of the closing door. He should have crawled under a vehicle, he realized, not inside.

Could he surrender? He’d never heard of defenders taking prisoners. Kai watched as the defender trained his rifle on the van, waiting to get close enough for a clear shot.

Kai dove across the front seat, threw open the passenger door, and rolled out as gunfire tore through the van, rocking it. The windows blew out, raining glass down on Kai.

He crawled along the row of vehicles, seeking cover, an angle from which to return fire with the pathetic rifle dangling from a strap on his back. When he reached the end of the row he looked for the other two defenders. He spotted one, moving along the row, bent, looking for Kai. Kai turned to make a run for cover. The other defender was blocking his way, rifle raised.

Kai put his hands up and opened his mouth to tell this giant towering over him that he’d had enough, that he was ready to fold.

The rifle roared. Bullets hit him, like teeth tearing into his shoulder, his hip, his thigh. The impact spun him around, then the ground seemed to come up and catch him. He thought he would pass out, but he didn’t; he just lay there panting.

“How many were in there?” he heard one of the defenders ask. The defender sounded far away.

“Four.”

“What about the one who was outside with you?”

“He’s not hurt too bad.”

“Get him and let’s go.”

They drove away. In wide-eyed shock, Kai took in his own body. His right side was nothing but raw, open meat. It hurt. He knew it was going to get much, much worse, unless he died first.

Most of his right hand was gone. He pulled out his phone with his left, called Shoelace. It rang long enough for Kai to suspect Shoelace was dead, then, miraculously, Shoelace answered.

“Kai. What’s up?”

“I’m in bad shape, Shoelace.” The pain—the real pain—suddenly kicked in, all at once. It was worse than he’d expected. It was blinding, intolerable. “I’m shot, like, three or four times.”

“Oh, shit. Are you near help?”

“I’m way behind the lines. I just wanted to tell you, I got some of them. Four of them. Blew a roof down on them.”