Dystopia Chapter 46: Broken Hearts

I quickly brought the meeting to an end, sat for a moment, ignoring Diana, watched as the committee representative and his security, seeming uninterested, wandered off. Mr. Maddox left, then we, the team, followed Diana back to the med center. She had a private room, now lit by a single candle. A small space sparsely furnished. Private and, more importantly, a safe space for our conversation. Once inside, we watched as she settled on the edge of a cot, head back, eyes closed, unwinding. Appearing to be exhausted, while eager to share. We startled her, knocking en masse on the door frame — making our presence known but waiting to be invited in. She looked up. “The plan?” I asked.

Surprised and startled, she looked up, clutched her chest. She glanced at Cord. He nodded. They’d been gone a week, maybe ten days. She focused on me as I stepped into her quarters, stopped, waiting for a response. We gathered around, eager to hear their story. What did they discover, and what did she mean by “We have a plan?”

Focusing on Diana, I said, “Sorry, just that I’ve replayed this moment dozens of times. Each time with a different result.”

“Have a seat,” Cord suggested.

Diana joined me at a small, rickety table. Candlelight cast eerie shadows. Silent, yet her disposition, the tension in her jaw, and a lingering sadness spoke volumes. Turning to Cord, she nodded. She mumbled, “The Plan, that’s where he wants to start.”

An uncomfortable pause, then Cord began, “We shadowed Susan — at work, in her free time, observed her habits and vulnerabilities. Ate at the cafe and occasionally engaged her in small talk. How’s business, the weather, her clientele… any family? That question quickly altered her mood as she would promptly and politely excuse herself.”

Another pause, Diana continued, “She appears happy, runs the cafe, oversees her staff, and often mingles with customers.”

“Does she ever talk about her past or family?” I asked.

“No,” Diana said. “She does not.”

Cord continued, “Our plan was to catch her off guard after work, on the street — approach with care, make small talk. We ate there every day or two and told her our story. Looking for my dad. Running from our past.”

“Okay, the plan?” I asked again.

“Slow down,” Cord replied.

The weight of the news settled heavily on me, a quiet ache growing as I absorbed just how independent she’d become. She is the proprietor of the cafe. It turns out that Mr. Eldridge handed her the business. But why? Attractive, five-five, strawberry-blond, slight but fit, like her mother. There was still a darkness surrounding her.

Life had often been unkind, leaving behind echoes of struggles and quiet sorrows. A gray cloud was ever present. Outgoing, capable of socializing, but cautious. Lives near the cafe. Wary of strangers outside of work hours. It was common knowledge that she kept a pistol in her fanny pack whenever she went out.

Bits and pieces of information shared. Little about her sister, less about her mother, and nothing about her father.

“She has seen the posters — the reward for you,” Diana said. “She regretted ever seeking you out. The bitter taste of it still lingers.”

According to Cord, she learned I existed but has no interest in me, talking to me. I understand anger, but I still don’t understand the hate she carries on her shoulders.

“What’s her story? Where has she been for the past several years? What…”

“Those are the wrong questions. Where have you been for the past several years?” Diana asked.

“I tried, I searched, I investigated; it was hopeless. I… I… gave up.”

“You gave up.”

My thoughts stumbled abruptly: Mr. Eldridge passed the cafe to her, but what was his motive?

“Where has she been? Those stories are for her to share,” Diana stood, excused herself, then abruptly left without another word. Into the darkness.

“What?” I asked.

“Susan secretly still cares,” Addison concluded.

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