"What is it, Samuel?"

The general's voice is slurred and I'm guessing he's been at the drink. Even back when I'd been in training, we'd all known he'd had a problem. He used to drink as much then as I do now, without a liver like mine to keep it in check.

It had never much impaired his duties though, and seeing as we knew where he kept his vodka, which was very useful to teenagers on a Friday night, we didn't report him. That, and he was Susie's adoptive dad -- it would have broken her heart. And I wouldn't have let anyone do that.

Well, anyone besides myself.

"Congrats on your retirement," I say.

"Ah, news gets 'round fast, even in the dives you frequent, Samuel."

"Especially in those kinds of places."

"Well, thank you. And honestly, I was getting too old for all of it anyway."

"Sue wasn't answering," I say.

"We're all a little busy right now. As you clearly know, things here are changing. To be perfectly honest, you're lucky you got through before the phone lines are disconnected. Wires will be pulled up and sold for scrap sometime in the next few days. Whole place is getting torn apart just like that, Samuel. The Storm Guard are dead and the vultures are circling. They're gonna' peck our eyes and livers out before the week's over."

He sounds sad drunk, and I figure I'll try to bury old hatchets to maybe get him on my side. "You did a good job with us."

"I did my best. I can honestly say that. Not always good, but always my best."

"Look, I figured, seeing as she wasn't answering her home phone, that Sue might still be at HQ with you?"

I hear a long sigh. "Sam." He never calls me Sam. Not when I was dating his daughter, not when I was running missions into Iran. "She's not here, Sam."

"You know where she might be then?"

"No, you don't get it." I might be hearing things, but it sure sounds like he just took another deep swig. Glug. "She's not here Sam. Not the Susie you remember."

There's that stone in my stomach again, pulling me down beneath the water, and I'm doing all I can to swim back to the surface for another gulp of air. "What do you mean exactly, Rupert?"

"She's changed, has my little girl. Don't pretend you didn't notice it when you were here."

"Sure, I noticed something was a little off," I lie. "What's the matter with her?

I don't know if it's an answer to me or just an addition to his previous statement but he says, "Jonas is leaving her."

"Oh. Shit."

Another fissure along my concrete heart. Poor Sue. And I even feel bad for Jonas, for losing her. It's not like I ever hated the nature manipulating American-German. He was one of those people you just couldn't hate. He never rubbed it in that he got Sue and I didn't... He just seemed to know that him and Sue made sense together. And beneath the sewage of broken-hearted dreams, I guess I thought they made sense, too. He was the well-studied stability she'd been after.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say. "Really."

 "Yeah. I'm sorry too. But I can't blame him -- and it's healthier for Lucy too, I think. That's their little girl. Jonas is taking her with him and, well, that's something."

"Is Sue all right, Rupert?"

"I don't think any of us are all right. You know, you quit at the right time, Sam. I've always thought that. When my mind wanders back to you, I think, 'Ah, the lucky one. Got out before things got fucked."

First I'd heard about things getting fucked. Storm Guard hadn't changed after I'd left, not from what I could tell through papers and television. "What do you mean fucked?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He laughs. It's sharp and sardonic, and anything but genuine. "Just fucked, Sam."

"Is this to do with them closing the Guard down? That's one of the reasons I wanted to speak to Sue -- was hoping she could tell me what happened."

"I doubt she'd be able to tell you."

What did he mean by that, I wondered. Couldn't, or wouldn't?

"I never really thanked you for helping us out, Sammy, in California. I hope the money has helped ease some of your troubles."

"That's the other reason I'm calling. The main reason, actually. And if you want to thank me, you can do so by answering truthfully."

Silence.

I continue, "What happened to the baby I found?"

A long pause. "I did all I could for her."

Now I'm under the water fully, and the stone is a boulder, and I'm screaming but water is rushing into my lungs. "If she's dead, Rupert, I--"

"You'll what?" He laughs. "Kill me? Come on then, Sam. Come kill me before someone else does."

"What happened to her?"

"Sam, there are things I can't talk about. This is one of them."

I'm breathing hard into the phone and I know he can hear my anger. "She's the first Storm Born in fuck-knows how long! She should be all over the news. Where is she?"

More silent static.

"I'm going to find out what's happened to her, Rupert. And if it's bad, pray to God I don't find you after."

"I know you'll try to find answers. You always were a trier, Sam."

"Then why not just tell me? The Storm Guard is over. What's left to protect?"

"... There are just some things a man has to take to the grave with him. That's part of what being a man is, Sam. It's about holding inside of you that fire that could engulf the world. Swallowing it down and keeping it to yourself. Trapping the flames within you, so that other buildings don't catch."

I don't like how he's talking. Never heard him speak like this, not even when he was skunk-drunk. "Rupert. Tell me what the fuck is going on."

"Don't call again. No one will speak to you if you try."

"Just tell--"

"Goodbye, Samuel."

There's a click as he hangs up.

What the fuck was that all about? I had one question I'd needed answering: What had happened to the baby? Now, I felt like I had a cocktail of questions swilling around my gut and they were making me feel nauseous.

I order a coffee and collapse into a seat in the hotel bar. First time I've had a coffee in months and it tastes more bitter than any Guinness. But I'm hoping it helps the cloud in my brain to dissipate.

I make a list of questions I need answering:

Where is the baby I'd found? (Or, what happened to her)

Storm guard were meant to have run a few tests and then announced her arrival. Instead, baby is missing and the Storm Guard have disbanded. Rupert was reluctant to talk about her, but he knows something, at the very least. Baby was his charge.

What was the matter with Sue?

Knew she'd seemed different when I'd met her... But her own father talks about her like she's dead. Or at least changed. Husband and daughter have left. The girl most full of life that I've ever met, now is all but drained of it. Does it have something to do with the Storm Guard breaking up?

What secrets was the general going to 'take to his grave?'

I didn't like the way he was talking. Either he, the Storm Guard, or... someone else, had done something worthy of causing him enough pain that he felt he would live the rest of his life with secrets burning him up. And I got a feeling it's more than just about the baby that's missing. He said I got out at the right time. What did he mean?

"Another coffee, sir?" asks a portly lady, out from her usual hide behind the bar.

"Guinness. A pint. Please."

She glances at the clock on the wall. "It's barely nine."

"Yeah. A pint of Guinness."

She shrugs. "Whatever you want."

I look over the list of numbers that the concierge had found for me: the general, Sue, and two other Storm Guards that I'd been a bit closer to, back in the day. But the only person who had picked up had been Rupert. And now no one else would. The general would have already issued his orders to them. Or threats.

There's another number, at the bottom of the list, that I've not yet tried. I walk over to the phone and dial in the Washinton state number, waving the barlady to bring the Guinness over to me.

I'm not expecting an answer, not on her home-phone. Half expected Rupert to have already got to her, too -- told her not to talk.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Elena. It's Sammy. From the California incident."

A brief pause. "Oh, wow. I wasn't expecting to, uh, well, to speak to you again. How are you?"

"How come you ain't in NYC helping with the big changes?"

"The Storm Guard program shutting down, you mean? Unfortunately -- or maybe fortunately now, I guess -- I'm not part of it anymore, Sammy. Haven't been for a month or so."

"Oh. You quit."

"Mm. Not exactly."

I'm about to say 'fired!?' but for once, I'm a little more subtle."It happens. We've all been there before. Look, uh, I was hoping you could help me out with a few questions I got. Like about the baby I brought back from the forest. Few others things. I know you're not with them anymore, but you were for a while and... You might know something that can help me out."

"I..." She takes a long breath as she considers it.

She's nervous. Everyone is fucking nervous.

"No one else is talking to me, Elena. I'd really appreciate it."

"...Ok. Yeah, sure, I'll talk to you. But I don't really know much -- I always had limited access and information. Need to know basis, kind of deal. Probably nothing worth telling you."

"All the same, I'd like to hear it."

"Not over the phone. Okay?"

Does she really think someone's tapped the phone of an agent who worked with the Storm Guard for just a handful of months? What I'm fast learning is: paranoia spreads like the plague.

At least she's willing to talk; that's a buoy in the roiling ocean for me to cling onto.

"Sure," I say, relieved. "If you're willing to bring that cute mole of yours over to Cali, I'll book you a first-class flight."