Fyre sat in the attic of a house, looking through a window and waited. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, but it had been about thirty hours since she had drank water and hadn’t thought to find food. The house was incomplete and had no furnishings or resources for her. The plumbing hadn’t even been hooked up yet. She was satisfied that it had a roof for her to wait under. Despite this, the cramps were getting to her and her hands were getting harder to articulate. She sat hidden, curled up. She was away from others which meant that she could sit peacefully, even if it meant potentially starving to death.
Down the road, Michael walked with his pack on his back. He wore lightweight jogging pants, a softshell windbreaker and a ball cap. His pack looked like something you’d buy from a sporting goods store that didn’t know what the word tactical meant, being just enough to carry his chest rig and weapon, but also carrying food and water. Though he needed very little of it himself, he knew he was dealing with a scared little girl who likely needed more compassion than anything.
Fashioned like a hiker who was out for a weekly exercise, he continued walking. He found himself in a construction area, a new housing development. Narrow three story houses with less room in them than most regular houses he had known growing up. The pavement of the road was well developed. Fences and road barriers blocked off the pathways into the houses that weren’t finished. Michael knew that he was likely in ambush central.
Michael remembered some of the info he had read about his eye. Put your hand over your left temple, that gets you an interface. He put his hand against the side of his head, and sure enough he had an interface appear in his artificial eye. The information passed through the neural network that allowed him to perceive the information as if he was seeing it with both eyes. Fumbling around, he finally figured out how to engage thermal vision with his eye.
He looked up at a house where he could faintly hear a commotion. He heard a child scream, followed shortly by thuds on the floor. He recognized this sound too well, as he had been the child in that room being shoved over a couch. It’s not something you can get involved in, he reminded himself as he pushed the flashback out of his mind of his mother throwing him over a couch over an inconvenience related to being a parent.
He turned and saw an incomplete house and with his thermal vision could see a faint signature where he knew there shouldn’t be. He knew he’d be able to play it off if it was nothing, just curious about this new construction, might consider buying it. Michael decided to walk his way to the house. The front door wasn’t installed yet, and hadn’t been taped off to keep anyone out. He made sure to keep his steps quiet in case the heat signature was a threat.
In the house, Fyre lay on the floor crying quietly. She could hear the incredibly quiet footsteps. It likely didn’t help that Michael had most of his skeleton replaced with metal, increasing his weight. Though the house wasn’t actually being bowed under his weight, she could feel the slight disturbances from his slow footsteps. She watched the opening that led to the attic and waited.
Michael found the opening to the attic and noticed that it had been left incorrectly closed. He reached up and slowly shoved it aside. He leapt up and grabbed the beam to pull himself up. He immediately saw Fyre laying on the floor in the attic. Pulling himself the rest of the way through the opening as his bag made it a little harder to pull through, he set the lid back in place and sat down facing her.
“I saw a video of you,” Michael said softly to Fyre as she lay there giving almost no reaction to his words, “I don’t know what made you finally decide to break out, but you did an amazing job fighting that staff.”
Fyre had begun looking into Michael’s head at this point, barely paying mind to his words. She had full confidence that she would figure him out more by reading him than by hearing him. The problem was, she couldn’t get as clear a picture from him as she normally got from other people. From other people, she could navigate their memories and minds like a library. Michael’s mind was like a library that had been ransacked and everything tossed around. The little she could read, she wasn’t sure what it meant. “What are you gonna do to me?” she asked in a quiet, exhausted tone. As Michael prepared to answer, she finally saw something in him. He’s been told to make a decision!
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Michael slowly took his pack off and set it down in front of himself. He grabbed a water bottle that had a drinking lid on it, and a bag of various MRE components from three different types of military ration that he had combined. He walked over to her and set the water in front of her. “You’re dehydrated,” Michael said softly, “that’s what’ll hurt you worse than anything else.”
“But what are you gonna do with me?” Fyre asked again as she kept her eyes locked on him rather fearfully. Watching Michael as he sat back down, she tried to catch more of his thoughts. She was so focused on him that she didn’t reach for the food and water in front of her.
“Well,” Michael said as his eyes narrowed, “first thing I’m gonna do is feed and hydrate you.” He gestured with his eyes, looking at the food and then back at her. “Drink it slowly,” he said softly, “chugging it’ll only make you throw up.”
“Why should I,” Fyre questioned, “am I going back?” she tried to swat the water away but could barely move. The feeling of helplessness was still unfamiliar to her. This caused her to slowly build panic. Michael watched as she gradually began to react, breathing hard and squinting her eyes. “Please don’t return me,” she squeaked out before a heavy tear ran down her face.
Michael sighed. He was so far from having to comfort people that he had nearly forgotten how. His focus was solely on keeping her alive long enough to figure out if she needed to die. He moved closer and lifted her upright, setting her against the wall and helping her stabilize. He picked up the water and touched the bottle against her bottom lip. “Open,” he said as he glared into her eyes. He watched her lack of a reaction, waiting only a moment before tiring of it. “Open your mouth before I fuckin’ open it!”
Fyre’s eyes shot wide open as he said this with what appeared to be a hateful snarl. The look on his face hadn’t scared her, but the patterns in his feelings. He really will, she thought to herself as she slowly opened her mouth to let him help her. As the water slowly poured in, she began to feel physical relief from much of her dehydration. She still felt the fear.
After some time went by, Michael had finally finished giving her the contents of the bottle. He crushed the bottle up and stuffed it in a trash bag, fitting it back in his pack before setting another bottle of water in front of Fyre. Her fear had gradually subsided as she continued to keep her eyes locked on him with hopes of seeing into him further. “It’s not me that needs figured out,” Michael said to her in low tones, “I need convinced.”
Fyre looked at him fearfully, tears running down her eyes. Her hands began to shake, her breathing became quick short breaths. Though she tried to form words, she couldn’t remember anything she’d have wanted to say. Within a moment, she couldn’t contain her cries as she began to sob, not understanding this sudden rush of intense emotion. Her helplessness, paired with Michael’s terrifying presence had finally led her to experience a panic attack.
After a moment of feeling inconvenienced and irritated, Michael finally caught up with understanding what was wrong. He reached over and grasped her hand with a more nurturing intent. “Look at me,” he said to her softly, in a much more calm tone than he had been using, “you ultimately decide what I do with you.”
Fyre looked at his remaining organic eye, focusing her concentration to read him to get to the bottom of his true motives. As she read, the messages she saw were distorted and partially conflicting. Partial drives of shut the fuck up and please don’t be sad were intertwined. She saw thoughts of why she should be killed, thoughts of why she should be protected, and even a couple of thoughts about just leaving her on her own. As she looked further, she saw memories of a little boy being struck across the face. She saw memories of a young man being bullied relentlessly by people who moments later could be recalled telling him, you’re unstable, and the ironic hypocrisy Michael felt from those times. “Michael,” Fyre said softly, “I understand.” After a moment of looking in his eye, she placed an arm over his shoulder and hugged him loosely. She calculated this, knowing that if she hugged too fast or too hard that he would panic and throw her through a wall.
Michael didn’t fully understand her motive behind trying to hug him, but having realized that he wasn’t dealing with a threat anymore, he reluctantly wrapped an arm around her and kept her close. “You need to eat,” he said softly, “you’ll feel better once you eat and drink.”
Fyre sat back down and picked up the water bottle that Michael had placed beside her. Opening the bottle, she smelled the water before drinking it very slowly. “I can read minds,” she said softly, “maybe I can help you.”
Michael looked at her with narrow eyes and asked with annoyance in his voice, “Would you help me if it wasn’t a means to make me not kill you?” He waited calmly for a response.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Fyre said flatly, “It’s the sister who thinks I’m evil.” While Michael sat quietly, Fyre finished the water and began eating the food. Penne and alfredo sauce, barely aged, she ate it slowly. There wasn’t much understanding to enjoy the flavor of the food, but she occasionally glanced up at Michael so as to see if his mood was shifting. She realized as Michael placed his hand on his pistol that he had made up his mind.