Heart of Annihilation (31 page)

“Remember our deal, Miss Rose.” He shoved his thousand dollar sunglasses on his face and disappeared. The door closed with a hiss and a clack.

I was a little disconcerted by Rannen’s implausible affection, not to mention a little worried as to how to be his mom. How do you mother a child who has outgrown you in every way?

“What deal did you make with him?” Rannen asked, sitting again.

It took me a moment to remember what Xavier was talking about. “Something about him helping me find you and Thurmond, as long as once we did I’d stay away from him.”

“Sounds like a win for everyone then.” Rannen grinned.

I grinned back, enjoying the smell of ozone like a warm summer rain within the room. Thurmond poked his head in.

“Hey, Rose.” He looked apologetic, but went on. “Wichman says he needs to speak with you right now. He has to leave on another assignment but wanted to say goodbye.”

“That’s fine, Devon,” Rannen said. “We’re done here for now anyway. I’ve got to go help Uncle Xander find something nice for Angie. Apparently she didn’t know about his relationship with Zell before last night.” Rannen smiled and touched my head. “We’ll talk again soon.”

“Okay. Looking forward to it.” I snickered to myself over Xavier’s dilemma.

Rannen shook Thurmond’s hand before ducking out.

“You patch things up with Xavier?” Thurmond asked, holding the door open.

“Nope.” I leaned my head against my pillow. “If he wants to continue being a big fat jerk, that’s his choice.”

Thurmond had a strange look on his face, and I noticed him tapping a cell phone against his leg. I was about to ask him what was wrong when Wichman entered. He was wearing a dark business suit with a blue tie, looking every inch the secret government agent that he was. His mustache twitched. I raised my eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t really have pulled that trigger in the diner, would you?” I said. I was having a hard time erasing the betrayal I’d felt at the time, despite what I knew now.

“Don’t be stupid, Rose.” He smiled, and I felt the grudge slide. Everything
had
worked out, after all. He tapped his knuckles against the rail of my bed, one hand in his pocket. “I’m sorry how everything went down. Anyway, I wanted to stop in really quick and say thank you for what you did last night. There’s not really words to describe the incredible sacrifice you were willing to make. On behalf of the United States—actually, the entire Third Dimension—thank you. You’re a real hero.”

My cheeks grew hot.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” It was actually a
huge
problem. But whatever.

Sergeant Wichman chuckled. Then his face grew serious.

“I also wanted to say I’m sorry about your father.” My stomach gave a painful jerk, and a thousand questions flooded my mind. Thurmond looked at me in surprise. I dropped my eyes to my blankets. Wichman continued. “He was a great man. Great agent.”

“Yeah.” My heart fluttered.

“I worked with him for twenty years in the DLA.” He smoothed down his mustache and cleared his throat. “You didn’t know that before, did you?”

“No. Well, not until we talked in the café.”

“He was tired of the RAGE inmates coming through the portal and being thrown right into whatever-the-hell foster family was willing to take in a psychotic child. He firmly believed that with the proper amount of love and the teachings of a value system, even the most horrifically inclined person could become an asset to society.”

I jerked my head up to look at him. “He knew who I was?”

Wichman nodded. “At first it was a social experiment of sorts. Take—forgive me—the worst, most crazed criminal of the bunch, and try to make you into a normal person.” He grinned. “It didn’t take him long, though, before he fell in love with being your dad. Within a few of years, he retired from the DLA and took a job as a part-time police officer in your hometown in order to spend more time with you.”

I tried to picture my dad as someone other than I had always known him and failed. To me he was just my dad: the guy who went to every soccer game and dance recital. He was the one who baked terrible birthday cakes and interviewed my dates before we could walk out the door.

Realizing now that he’d known who I was, the atrocious person I was on Retha, didn’t dampen my love for him. He’d looked into my eyes and believed the best of me.

“Anyway, Rose, I thought you might like to know. There’s been a development in your father’s case and I have to leave to follow up on a lead. It’s not a great one, but something. I’ll let you know what we find out. Call me anytime.” Wichman lifted a hand in farewell. He shook Thurmond’s hand and stepped out the door.

I rubbed my fingers in my hair. The bed sank on one side, and I looked over at Thurmond.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He frowned. “I’ve been trying to get your dad on the phone for hours.”

I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Before I’d even gone to basic training. He called for backup on a stop over a stolen vehicle. Dispatch received the call a little past midnight. Backup arrived six minutes later only to be blown to hell, and Dad was just gone.”

“Gone as in . . . ?”

“Gone as in missing. The other officers were dead and could be identified, but there was nothing left of Dad—just gone, with one of those RETHA coin-catapult things in his place.”

“So he’s in Retha, then?”

I shrugged and traced a pattern on my blanket. I didn’t want to remember. I wanted to block out the memory of the night I’d gotten the call as I’d done for the past five years. I had his voice in my head, and his arms wrapped around my heart.

Thurmond took my hand. I blew out a breath.

“The thing is, we’d been in the middle of an argument. I wanted to join the army. He wanted me to look at other options, said he was worried about me being around too much violence. Go figure.” I coughed a laugh. “I remember him telling me, a few days before he disappeared, how much he believed in me. How he knew I’d make the right choice about this. In typical Dad fashion he told me he believed that whatever I chose would allow me to save the world in my own way.”

“And look how you saved the world . . . by saving the world.” Thurmond squeezed my hand. “I’m actually glad I could be here to see it.”

“Seriously?”

“You bet.”

“Oh, well in that case I’ll forgive myself for dragging you into my messes, over and over—”

“You do that. Hey, I got you something.” Thurmond pulled out a silver chain from his pocket. Dangling in sparkling innocence from the end of it was a small, silver, half-circle pendant about the size of my thumb. “I found it in your hand and thought you might like it. It was from your dad, and without the other part it’s not exactly a key anymore . . .” he trailed off in uncertainty.

I hesitated and then reached out to rub my thumb across the pendant.

The last time I’d seen it, it was being held between thin, white fingers and inserted into a glowing sphere. I recoiled.

Thurmond slowly lowered the chain onto my blanket.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Thurmond stared into my face with an intensity I’d never seen from him.

“Like what? A lot happened.” I rested my head against the pillow, dropping my eyes to the silver loop of chain. I wished we could glaze over the whole shooting the commander bit.

“Like how you saved the world with that damn stunt of yours?”

“No. Actually, I don’t want to talk about that.”

Thurmond made a sound in his throat, not yet ready to give up. I looked out the window. A cold weight pressed against my mind.

I could feel the round between my fingers and the smell of gunpowder as the bullet left the casing, speeding toward her heart. I saw again the arc of light and heard the echoing repeat. I closed my eyes with a shudder and rubbed my hands across my face, only to watch her blood spill again and again.

“Okay, okay. You know what? You’re right.” Thurmond’s voice held a hint of panic. “Let’s not talk about that right now. Okay?”

“Come on, T.” I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to press away the tension as though ironing out a stubborn wrinkle. The pressure only deepened into a blistering ache above my left ear. “Why the hell would I want to talk about that? Another notch on my already imposing belt impresses you? A little rehash of the all-around blackening of my soul seems like a good post trauma debriefing? Hoo-freakin’-rah!”

“I didn’t mean—”

I jabbed a finger into his shoulder and then slammed my fist into his chest. He grabbed my wrists, his face set. I struggled to free myself.

“You can’t tell me that watching me kill that horrible Rethan isn’t seared into your mind forever!” Anger oozed from m
e like hot tar. I thrust my hands down to break his grip.

“Rose—”

“If you don’t want to hang out with a murderer, go ahead and leave!” I shoved him away. He stepped back, his hands up, on the defensive now. I rubbed a knuckle above my ear. “I don’t need your damn help, Corporal! Never did—”

“Kris!”

You didn’t think I would just go away, did you?
Caz laughed.

I tapped my forehead with my fist, allowing the ache in my head to fade completely before I was able to look up at Thurmond.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. I should have—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He ran a finger down my cheek. “I can only imagine what’s going through that head of yours. But dammit, Kris, I’d like to think you understand me well enough by now to know I’m not going to take off just because you cussed at me.”

“Thanks.” I pressed his hand to my lips. “I’ll try to keep the swearing down to a minimum . . . or get Caz to, rather.”

“Caz?”

“Yes, Caz. The DCC Slayer
.
”

With a sour laugh, I plucked the silver chain from the bed.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

They say it takes a village to raise a child. The same could be said about a novel.
Heart of Annihilation
would never have made it past the dark, creative recesses of my mind without the host of very fine people in my life encouraging me onward and upward.

My parents, who filled my mind with knowledge and imagination from the day I was born. They gave me unlimited time and love and books. Let’s not forget the books.

My husband and children, who have been the best cheerleading squad a girl could ask for. They’ve packed my life with adventure and joy while patiently allowing me to hide behind my laptop as I pursued my dream of publication.

And who could survive the storms of the publishing industry without the support of a very special group of friends and fellow writers. Thank you, Angie, Kate, Callie, Terra and Meghan for endless reading, editing and discussions that helped grow this book. For patting my sad, little head every time my writing world crashed down around me and for celebrating with me when the sun returned.

Thank you to WiDo Publishing for providing my precious manuscript with the very best chance in the big bad world. And my editor, Amie McCracken, for taking my humble novel past ordinary to extraordinary.

Lastly I’d like to acknowledge my friends and former comrades in the U.S. military, and all the service men and women who have fought and continue to fight for our freedom. You are my heroes.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

C. R. Asay joined the Utah National Guard at the age of seventeen. After spending time in the 625th Military Police Corp she transferred to the 19th Special Forces group as a counterintelligence agent. She retired from the military after marrying her best friend and graduating from college so that she could embark on the most exciting adventure of all; being a mom.

The short story version of her first novel,
Heart of Annihilation
, earned an honorable mention from the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future contest. C. R. Asay currently resides in West Jordan, Utah, with her husband, four children, and a dog. There is always a dog.