12
Omar
I did it. I took Parker’s terrible advice and said the thing without overthinking it. Anders’ noisy inhale tells me that he heard me. Otherwise, he’s silent.
A few seconds later, he reaches across the console and squeezes my arm. “I don’t think they failed you at all.”
The squeeze doesn’t last long, but it releases a tension, a weight I didn’t know I was carrying. My shoulders drop, and finally, I remember to breathe.
There’s so much going on in my head, but I’m startled by the sudden change in light. A heavy blanket of blackness replaces the lights along the highway.
When I look over at Anders, he points out the road sign:Davy Crockett National Forest.
We are surrounded on all sides by dense, dark forest. The Pine Curtain, indeed. I’m sure it’s lovely in the daylight, but here at night it’s atmospheric, save for the sliver of moonlight through the break in the canopy of trees.
My car is transformed into a sacred space, a place where maybe confessions are safe, and I find myself wanting to unstick my tongue.
Don’t overthink it.
“You know it’s…it’s quite the thing to be gay in Iraq. Being able to tuck in those emotions kept me alive.”
I chance a look at Anders, and the gentle acceptance in his eyes is, perhaps, more surprising than it should be. “I’m sure it did.”
“And, uh…I do this,” I say, referring to my work with the Guardians, “to make up for the things I did when I was young.”
Anders glances at me, his smile still so…kind. “It had to be awful, being forced to take so many lives at such a young age.”
What?No.
A cold feeling prickles along my spine, and my face turns to stone.
He gently pushes my shoulder. “Hey now, what just happened?”
“How do you…know?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
Anders startles at the question. “Jake shared all of his intelligence before you met with the original members of the team.”
No, no, no.
“What do you mean, all of his intelligence?”
“Your father’s records. He had a library’s worth of data.”
I remember the large leather-bound books he had in his study. “I called those his ledgers of death. And they were quite incomplete. How did—?”
Anders lets out a long exhale. “Asadi scanned every last one of them.”
It feels difficult to focus on the road, and there’s a sense of betrayal I can’t quite put my finger on. “My brother…knew?”
“Yes.”
“But he never said…”
“He never talked to you about…?” Anders gestures vaguely to encompass the horrible reality of our “childhood.”
I shake my head, biting the inside of my lip.
“I genuinely thought you knew about the records,” he whispers, his shoulders turned inward. “Maybe he didn’t want to undo all of your good work. Which, fuck, I just did. I’m so, so sorry.”
