I run a hand over the top of my head, interlocking my fingers behind my neck. “You can go to the grocery store downstairs, where you know everyone, and stay within the visual parameter of the apartment.”
“That’s nice. What do you mean by visual parameter?”
“I need to be able to see you.”
“While I grocery shop?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Do you want anything? Chips, chocolate, a ride to the airport?”
I chuckle. “I’ll take something sweet. Maybe a peach I can bite into.”
What was that? My pickup line? For fuck’s sake.
Luckily, Dina is a decent human who didn’t get my awful double meaning.
“I’ll get us a bottle of wine.”
Not sure alcohol is the best idea. “What kind of wine?”
“Red. I was going to do steak for dinner.”
“Perfect.”
Dina closes the door with a thud. Doesn’t lock it. I would have locked it. Maybe she hopes I’ll leave. I would if I could. I stare at the thawed bag of peas, but it can’t reduce my swelling overnight.
The ankle will be worse before it gets better.
I’m also becoming dizzy, which is a very bad sign given how, upon exiting my position, I hit my head multiple times.
The cut on my temple is closed for now, but if I sleep on it, it will reopen easily. I need to stitch it up before bed. My emergency kit, packed in the compartment under the rifle, is limited. I can only carry so much.
When I stand up and the apartment tilts, I give myself a moment to stabilize. It takes me longer than I’d like to regain my balance.
I unzip the main compartment of my bag and take out my rifle. Unlike in the movies, I didn’t have time to dismantle it before I exited the nest. Imagine if a sniper had to reset and assemble the rifle over and over again as he was running away, trying to keep himself alive. He’d never make it.
The movies make it look cool. Nah, this job is messy. I weed through chaos, trying to make sense of it, anticipating the moves of thousands of armed men and women searching for me while also making sure I don’t hurt bystanders in the process. And I can’t carry anything identifiable with me in case I’m found. This is to protect my family. Nothing cool about that, I assure you.
Dina’s apartment is small. Since I’m as fast as an average turtle now, I limp to her bedroom window (because I can’t use the terrace) from where I can see her on the street just in time as she accepts the bags the grocery clerk hands her through the kiosk window.
My father didn’t allow any large grocery chains from other countries to infiltrate the city.
This is because foreign corporations wouldn’t pay him restitution. This policy kept the grocery business in the hands of families who have owned businesses for generations. Some bad dealings ultimately turn out to be beneficial for the people.
I grab my rifle for a longer-range look down the street. Left clear.
For the right, I rise on my toes and twist on my good leg like a damn ballerina. Connor would make fun of my wobbling and hopping now. I hope that woo-woo stuff he’s into and the way he thinks he can feel my heartbeat serves to calm him down now.
If Connor thinks I didn’t make it, a dark cloud will form over the city. My brother is unstable. Unhinged. I’m the only one whocan keep him in check. Without me, he causes carnage that my uncles punish him for.
After the incident at the bar in Zibtca, where Connor lit a bottle of whiskey and set the entire bar on fire, my uncle Endo told me Connor needs supervision at all times. He’s not allowed to make any more mistakes.
The bar belonged to a client of ours, and no, we don’t do business with that man anymore, which costs us money we don’t need to lose. Endo dislikes losing money. Well, Endo dislikes losing in general.
To be fair, I love winning too, but that’s not why I keep my brother in check.
I’m afraid he’ll go too far and I won’t be able to save him from himself. Like now. Now I’m afraid of what he’ll do to find me. But I can’t reach out to him. It’s unsafe. The lines are monitored, and besides, Dina is someone I don’t want him near. My family cannot find out I made contact with a civilian.
