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With the sun now setting, Cord finds me topside, on the roof, watching the sky changing colors: reds, oranges and pinks. Thanks to dust plumes, always blowing across the desert, and pollution that is often present. The drier air allows for more vivid color wavelengths to shine through. Pretty, offering a moment of peace, still many wear masks and many struggle with asthma and respiratory issues. Die struggling for their final breath. I knew why he was here. Turning, he seems worn out. A weariness that creeps in with boredom. Every day is the same as the one before. I know he has met Susan. Finally, I ask, “The plan?”
“It’s crazy… actually suicidal.”
“Some folks call that Tuesday.”
“Whatever,” Cord mumbles.
He laid it out, beginning to end, when, where, even what to expect. I was comfortable risking my safety. At no time did I want to endanger him. Or any team member, therefore this must be kept secret and I’ll go alone. This remains my problem, even though, in my mind, it’s a pointless task.
Cord, looking at the horizon, the sun leaving us in darkness, hands folded, “this is likely a setup.”
Minutes pass until finally. “This is my problem. I need to go it alone. You need to promise to keep this between the two of us, period. It’s her play now, right, …Cord? I’ll just have to trust her.”
“Well, seems… I might have mentioned it to Addison.”
“What the…”
“And Brett, Joshua, perhaps Frank, but no one else!”
“And they’re staying far away, right, …Cord!”
“Well, Susan is expecting I’ll be with you, which is a good thing. Any hitch to the plan would just make her suspicious. It’s possible Brett might watch from a nearby hilltop, and the others, scouting about, wood, small game, out of sight.”
“Scouting about in the middle of the day? How could this possibly go wrong?”
“A dozen different ways, but who knows? I mean, it might go perfect. But just in case, we will be accessible. There is no backing out. Whether or not you go, I will meet with Sandra and represent.”
What could I say that would alter the future? It will be what it will be. The truth, this path, was inevitable. Like Joshua said, I’m tired of running. We all are. Returning home, I sit contemplating the likely results, like a poker player calculating the odds of survival, reconciliation, harmonization, or death. My hand is not looking good. Make the most of the cards you have. Even the best hand, pocket Aces will lose 19% of the time.
I hear someone entering the cubical, guessing Cord, maybe Addison, but prepare for anyone. Always better safe than sorry. It’s been a while since I had spent any time with her, alone. Hoped. Crawling in without an invitation, she smiles, then crosses the space and sits next to me on the north wall and sighs. She always smells… floral. It stirs memories. I do my best to push it away. Quiet for the moment. We had spent time together, relaxing, socializing on multiple occasions, relationships even in this world unavoidable, natural, never ending well. We both understand this. As bad as the world has become, the sun still rises in the east and sets in the west, and humans seek each other out for social contact. I’ve spent recent years keeping everyone at arm’s length, never over committing or building relationships. Afraid. Feelings are dangerous.
She begins, “A boatload of truth does not guarantee trust. Trust is an elusive critter. Your life, our lives, are but a puff of smoke, here, and then gone… with a passing breeze. What I cannot understand. You have always held a losing hand, always playing the odds. Never have you set others up. Lucky. This plan is risky. Still, you’re asking a lot for any of us to just stand down.”
“I’m a conflict avoider, always have been, and that should be evident. I didn’t ask to be who I am. Just a victim of circumstances, as we all are. And to be honest, afraid to live, afraid to die. This plan, Susan’s plan, shaking my head, searching for the right word, asinine. But trust? How can I expect her to trust if I don’t?”
“I’m staying tonight,” Addison concludes.
I was not about to counter that decision. Although I hadn’t expected what was about to unfold. A mistake? Slowly, sitting across from me without a word, she carefully removed her clothing and slipped into the sleeping bag. Moments later I followed, skin on skin, entangled, gentle touches exchanged, silence filling the air, leaving the world behind. There is a voice whispering. This will not end well. The sun rose. She was gone. And I felt… regret, a longing.
Over the next several days we bantered about ideas, each one in direct conflict with the directive left by Susan. As a Scout Team we have ventured out, revisiting “safe” areas and gather what usable materials still exist. We avoided the “house” but thinking that maybe Susan tipped her hand. Her words, “one final warning, you know that house you were seeking to annex, don’t you are being setup.” Something felt off.
The week dragged on. Individual team members, disguised, wandered by the cafe, viewing the terrain, the city, outside the building. More ideas bounced about. Ultimately, a plan formed. Good or bad, it was what it was.
The building, two-stories with multiple entrances, few windows, most boarded up, the interior poorly lit (with lanterns and candles), front dining room, and area in rear a kitchen/storage space with a back service entrance.
Eight tables in the dining area, each with four chairs. Sandra will sit facing the entranceway. Sit on the far side of the room, Susan will have her back to the door. Sandra will have a weapon.
Susan’s words. Please do not cross me. The date and time set. The table. She always brings a bodyguard or two. Maybe more. But they wait outside. The cafe will be empty. Cord and I will arrive through the back. At exactly 2:10, to talk.
Do not bring your crew. I will warn her about what is about to happen. That you two will arrive to talk. She will not be happy. I will intervene, stand in the middle. If someone dies, I will be the first.
Expecting, she will explain the purpose of us attending and ask that she listens to our account. At that point in time, it’s impossible to know what will happen next. Too many -what ifs to plan for, just hope for the best while expecting the worst.
Game day approaches. Addison remained aloof. I’m unable to sleep. I wonder, should I just wander off during the night? I’m a conflict avoider.
Tomorrow is the day.
Tonight, alone.
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