King looked at the brew skeptically, but then took a sip. It was better than the tea they had had in the lounge with his parents.
Alexander poured and drank from his own cup, as the last of the crew boarded and took their seats at oars. The sail was luffing as the crewmen, without orders or chants, began rowing the boat away from the pier. The lines were dumped haphazardly on the deck. No one had time for coiling the rope, King guessed.
The sky was patchy with white fluffy clouds, but there was no sign of a storm anywhere. King swallowed more of the tea and found the flavor improving. “This vessel doesn’t look particularly seaworthy. How long of a trip is it to Sicily?”
Alexander finished the rest of his cup of tea in one gulp, then looked at King with a raised eyebrow. “About twenty-five hours. Longer if the wind isn’t with us. Hence the prayers…and the tea. Unless you’d rather drink seawater.”
“I never thought you’d be much for praying — or do you pray to the old Greek pantheon?” King asked.
“Actually, I pray to them all. God, Allah, the Greek Gods, Buddha, Vishnu and whoever. I figure it can’t hurt on a sea voyage. We’ll use the time on the trip for me to fill you in on a few things about the way the world works in this time. Things you should and shouldn’t do.”
“Like burning my favorite Elvis t-shirt?” King asked, still feeling the sting of giving up his modern clothes.
“Exactly. We wouldn’t want some enterprising twentieth century archeologist to stumble across that AK-47. So you’ll need to keep track of it. If it breaks, there’s no way to fix it in this time, so you’ll have to dismantle it, destroy the pieces, and bury them in different places. Dropping the bits in the sea here…” Alexander pointed over the starboard bow, as the man in front of him on a bench continued to grunt as he rowed, “wouldn’t be a bad idea either. The point, as in all things like this, is to be as unnoticed as possible.”
About halfway out of the harbor, the captain spoke to the men in a long rambling speech. The oarsmen grunted and groaned, but stowed the oars and began pulling in the lines for the sails. A few men with red-stained gums produced small packets of something wrapped in large leaves that they sucked. King imagined it was the equivalent of a smoke break for some of the oarsmen. Only three men appeared necessary for manning the sail. The wind snapped the sail taut and the boat sliced neatly through the crystal blue waters, heading out of the harbor. Soon they were in open sea.
Moments later, an argument broke out between two of the sailors. King and Alexander watched, not really taking much interest. “The tall man says he’s due a greater cut of their haul, because he did more work last time. The shorter man says he always gets the dirty jobs,” Alexander told King.
The two sailors bickered and more men joined in the argument, their voices raising in volume. From the stern behind him, King could hear the captain feebly berating his crew, but they were past the point of listening. The men’s faces were flushing with blood as the argument heated up.
Suddenly Alexander leapt up and moved toward the throng of arguing men. King stood too, wondering why Alexander was leaping into the fray.
Is this about us? King wondered.
Alexander was turning to look at King. “Jack! It’s a distrac—”
He never got to finish his cry.
King felt a searing burn in the middle of his back, making his arms jerk outwards to his sides, and his head jerk involuntarily upward. His torso blazed with so much pain he couldn’t form a coherent thought. As his eyes fell downward, he saw something that shouldn’t be there.
In the middle of his chest, sticking out of the white scratchy robe, was at least seven inches of metal, coated in blood.
His blood.
He had been stabbed in the back so hard, that the blade had plunged clear through his chest.
As life left him, his only thought was that Fiona would be angry at him for breaking his promise.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The words hung in the air.
King…dead.
The room was silent. Queen looked sharply at Asya. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. There was an explosion. Alexander and King were at the center of it. There’s no way they could have survived. Not even Alexander. Their bodies…they’re gone. Dust.”
Asya all but fell into Queen’s arms. The two women latched onto each other in a strong embrace. When they had first met, Queen had attacked Asya and they had fought a knock-down drag-out fight that was oddly similar to her first encounter with King. Asya, surprisingly, had held her own in the combat. Since then, Queen and Asya had become friends, mostly through Queen’s acknowledged admiration for Asya’s fighting ability and for her connection to King.
Jack, Queen thought. Oh no.
“I know…that we were foes,” Ridley was in a full sitting position on the floor when Queen turned back to see him, “but I’d like to offer my—”
“Hey, Dick!” Rook called out, angry sarcasm dripping from his mouth as he uttered the nickname. He stalked over to squat in front of Ridley. “Do you know the only two parts of the human anatomy that are affected by radiation from a microwave oven?”
Ridley looked back at Rook, not comprehending the sudden shift in the conversation. “I…I really can’t say that I do.”
Rook scowled. “The eyeballs and the testicles. Unless you want me to put yours in a microwave, shut the fuck up.” Rook stood and walked past the three clones, throwing each dirty looks, before returning to his original post against the far wall.
Queen scanned the room after Rook’s outburst. Knight was looking at the floor, all memory of his mission to guard the door and keep an eye on the duplicates when Rook wasn’t, now forgotten. Bishop still leaned on a wall, and although his facial expression had changed just the slightest, in the form of a raised eyebrow, she knew he was reeling inside. Ridley wisely closed his mouth and looked at his left foot as its big toe formed a toenail.
The duplicates stood in place, although Queen noted that Seth was now closer to the door.
“Knight,” she called. The small Korean man’s shocked face stayed aimed at the floor. “Knight!” She shouted this time. The man’s head snapped up, irritation replacing his look of shock. “Stay sharp.” She motioned to the duplicates. “We’re not out of the shit yet. We’ll mourn King later.”
“Copy that,” Knight nodded, his eyes returning to a practiced focus, aiming directly at Seth. “I’m solid.”
Queen moved slowly away from Asya. “Goes for you too, Pawn. Your brother would want you to fight.”
Asya nodded, wiped her tears and stood up straight.
Queen moved to the center of the room where Ridley sat on the floor. She looked down at the man’s still forming toenail. “Can you walk?”
“Give me five more minutes,” he said, not looking up at her.
Queen turned to Asya. “Alexander is gone?” Then she clarified. “All of him?”
Asya stepped further into the room, still somewhat dazed. She nodded. “Like I said, dust. Vaporized. I have looked over what little is left of the wreckage. There is nothing left…nothing to bury.”
Queen hung her head.
She touched her tactical throat microphone. “Did you copy all that?”
After a few seconds pause, she heard Deep Blue’s voice in her ear. “I…I’m sorry, Queen. The embedded homing chip he had is gone from my screens too.”