Chapter 54

The Tidings

Michael put down the phone and, with a deep sigh, leaned back into the chair, his expression sombre and thoughtful.

“Any luck?” a voice spoke out from the slightly darkened side where a man in a black suit was standing, his expression equally thoughtful to Michael’s.

“Some,” Michael replied. “I threw him a bait, he threw one right back.”

“What does he want?”

“Some girl,” Michael said. “And Sarah.”

“... Sarah?” The man in question was SA James Abbleton, Michael’s most trustworthy confidant. He, just like Michael, appeared confused over the mention of Sarah. “Why? Do they have a history together?”

“I don’t know,” Michael shook his head. “I don’t think so, at least. He wants her head, for some reason.”

“... it’s not impossible.”

“James!” Michael exclaimed in soft disbelief, turning to look at the man.

“It’s a precarious position to be in, Mike,” James said. “You’ve made it up now, but it will happen in the future. If half the things that boy is saying are true, that man would be the wings we need.”

“... I understand that,” Michael sighed. “But still… Sarah isn’t just a random soldier, Michael. What faith could I hope to inspire in the future if I threw one of my main people into the gutter just because some stranger asked?”

“Then play it slow,” James said. “Promise him the girl first, and if he lives up to his end of the deal, you’ll give him Sarah. And depending on what happens, we can make a choice in the future.”

“...” Michael sighed, reaching into the nearby drawer and taking out a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked one in over six years, but it was time. The stench soon began permeating the room, but James said nothing, fiddling on the phone. “So, test him. He won’t like that.”

“He doesn’t have to like it. He just has to agree to it. In fairness, he also tested you. No complaining.”

“It ain’t tit-for-tat,” Michael chuckled lightly. “But… it’s not the worst thing in the world. I just worry why he wants a random child–one whose name he doesn’t even know.”

“Probably has something to do with how they also ‘knew’ about the doppelganger,” James posited. “Though it’s possible they got the info as a ‘reward’, what’s more likely is that someone–either Elijah or the man or someone else in their ranks–has a Class that can somehow fetch information by desire.”

“You think so too?” Michael asked. “That was my first guess as well. The info is too specific and localised to just be a random throwaway reward. So, why would he want the child? In this scenario where he can know that the child is important, just not who the child is.”

“Could be any number of things,” James shook his head. “A distant relative, someone related to someone else, a bargaining chip… it’s impossible to say with any certainty. I think you should make a deal, and name some of the more obnoxious proponents as targets.”

"... haah," Michael stood up and walked over to the window, gazing through at the well-lit base. "Have we really fallen so far that we are orchestrating the deaths of our fellow countrymen? Our fellow soldiers?"

“...” James remained silent, standing beside the forlorn-looking General.

"I'll arrange a face-to-face meeting."

“Mike–”

“I have to, first,” Michael interrupted swiftly. “No headlights, no sights, no guns. Just two men, face to face. Whatever happens, happens.”

“At least let me come,” James said. “The man’s dangerous, Michael. This isn’t like meeting a country’s General in the past. There’s no baseline courtesy and law that the man will follow.”

“Very well,” Michael said with a sigh. “I’ll call him tomorrow. God help us… and forgive us.”

**

Ethan stared at the phone on the table bemusedly. He’d just gotten a call from the General–less than twelve hours after the last one–that he’d agree, partially, on their deal, but wanted to first meet face to face. Supposedly, he was going to bring one more man with him, so he told Ethan to do the same. He asked Ethan specifically to designate the meetup spot, and he offhandedly recommended a small cafe that had closed around twenty minutes from the city. It’d take Ethan about ten minutes to get there as the cafe was actually just outside the large swath of trees that encompassed the mountain.

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He didn’t expect the General to agree–and especially not so quickly. What he meant by ‘partially agreeing’ was likely that he’d help Ethan locate the girl, but deal with the ‘Sarah issue’ depending on how everything else played out.

"Who was that?" Layla asked as she jumped on the sofa. She'd turn ten soon and was growing steadily despite everything. She was the sole evidence of time that never waited for anything.

"A buddy of mine," Ethan replied as he pulled her over and sat her on his lap, beginning to braid her hair. "Asked to meet up."

“Sounds fun! Can I come too?” the girl asked excitedly.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said as her shoulders slumped. “I understand.”

“...” there were few things in the world that could make Ethan feel guilty, and those tiny, slumped, disappointed shoulders were one of them. He wanted to take her out, to get her away from the lodge and back into civilization… but it wasn’t time. Not yet. “I really am sorry, lovebug. I promise, though, we’ll go back to the city quite soon.”

“... really?” she asked in a half-excitement.

“Really,” Ethan replied, kissing the top of her head gently. “So, just endure it for now. For a little bit longer. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course!” she said, playing with her fingers. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Oh? Is that so? So, if I asked for sweet kisses, you’d kiss me?”

“Yes!” she spun around and faced him, her lips beaming.

“And if I asked for hugs?”

“I’d give you tons!”

“Ho ho, I might just never leave this place if you give me tons of hugs. I’d just plop over from happiness.”

“He he.”

“... same goes for me kiddo. You know that, right?” Ethan said, fixing a strand of hair that fell to the wayside. “I’d do anything for you, too.”

“Anything?” she asked.

“Anything,” Ethan reiterated.

“Make me orange juice, then!”

“At once, Princess!”

As the young girl giggled, Ethan exaggeratedly stood up and went to make her the orange juice. It was one of the simple pleasures in life, yet one of the most satisfying ones. To him, at least.

The day of the meet–set up two days ahead–arrived quickly and Ethan departed down the mountain, leaving Ronald to watch over Layla and the lodge. The boy offered to come–or, rather, insisted–but Ethan didn’t want to leave Layla alone again, no matter what. While the experience would probably benefit the boy, it wouldn’t benefit him enough to offset the risk.

Ethan arrived about an hour before the meet time at the abandoned cafe. The chairs and tables still sat strewn, the windows shattered as the place was likely robbed at one point or another. Picking one of the few tables that still stood whole, he took out a beer from his inventory and patiently waited.

About half an hour later, he saw two silhouettes emerge from the opposite end of the highway from where ‘his’ mountain was. They crawled up from the shrubbery–quite a sight to behold, actually–and slowly climbed up a steep side of the road. The two men made quite a pair–the older man, the General himself Ethan presumed, stood just over six feet by Ethan’s estimates, with greying, brown hair and wearing casual clothes that didn’t do much to hide his rather fit body.

The man beside him was at least a head and a half shorter, though somehow even bulkier than the older man. He had short, black hair gelled to the side as though licked by a cow, and immediately pulled out a gun as the two men began approaching the cafe, holding it steady and squarely pointed at Ethan who looked like he didn't even notice it, casually continuing to drink beer.

“Put that away, James,” the older man sighed and shook his head as the two men walked up to the table and pulled two chairs toward it.

“No funny business,” the man warned as he holstered the gun.

“Your hair’s a funny business.”

“...”

“You certainly live younger than you are,” the General said with an awkward smile. Ethan looked over at the man and scrutinised him deeply–he’d already Awakened, naturally, and there was a thick stench of Mana surrounding him suggesting that he’d gotten to at least Level 5.

“They do say that men never grow up, we just grow old.”

“I can attest to that,” the man said. “Though, just for a moment, let us pretend that we have grown up.”

“Man, being part of an almost Hollywoodesque clandestine meeting sure is exciting,” Ethan rolled his eyes gently and resumed drinking. “Anyway. Dear General–why am I here?”

“I wanted to meet you.”

“As you can see, I’m just an ordinary man,” Ethan shrugged. “I’m no three-headed monster, after all.”

“Somehow, I think that’d be preferable.”

“Weren’t we pretending to be grownups?” Ethan grinned lightly as the General smiled. “So, ask away.”

“Elijah let it slip in private that your name’s Ethan.”

“The poor kid doesn’t even realise he’s bugged,” Ethan sighed. “Too naive, eh?”

“We couldn’t find anyone in our military database matching your description, though.” the General continued.

“I’d be quite shocked if you did considering I was never in your military.”

“Then how do you know our standard operating procedure?” Ethan looked at him oddly for a moment.

“Because it’s… common knowledge?”

“Not to that degree.”

“You know I’m just gonna lie my ass off,” Ethan said. “So, why even bother asking? You think what kind of lie I tell you will reveal more about me?”

“Well, you just did.” the General smiled.

“I suppose I did,” Ethan nodded. “But, I gotta say, I’m quite disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Why are you still trying to read me?” Ethan asked. “I expected better from a man who thinks himself the reason the city hadn’t collapsed in utter chaos.”

“You don’t like being read?”

“I’m easy to read,” Ethan replied, fiddling with the can of beer. “I’m your textbook narcissist with control issues and just a tinge of antisocial personality disorder. I'm a dime a dozen.”

“No man, and especially you, can be summed up so succinctly.” the General said.

"... and yet, we are," Ethan looked at him and sighed. "This isn't working. Instead of chatting, how about a demonstration?"

“A demonstration?”

“You’re probing me,” Ethan said, standing up slowly. “But you ain’t no aliens and I ain’t no Montana redneck. You want to know why I can’t take any of you seriously, right? Why I can give half a shit what the mighty U.S. military wants? Well, here I am. You got your guns, you got your Classes, you got your mighty wits. Surprise me. Prove to me you’re worth more than dirt on my boots. I might even take you a bit more seriously than a toddler throwing a tantrum.”