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Rio’s face swam above me again against a clear, cold night; I smelled grass and peat and too many thoughts, too many memories, I was screaming and holding my head and someone else was dragging me and shouting, too late, too late, and I could see the stars—

And then I was back in the room at the LA Air Force Base, curled on the floor, the helicopter thrumming right outside the windows, Dawna’s troops surrounding me, but Rio had Dawna and they were all frozen, a deadly tableau, and I thought I have to help him but I was drowning—

Help her.

Rio sat in the corner and watched while I threw up so violently my body spasmed and seized—

I had failed—I had failed, and I was going to die, but worse than that was the knowledge that I had lost, was lost; I curled on the bed letting the pain overtake me; it throbbed through my head, larger than existence, robbing me of identity—

I was scribbling madly, paper spread out all around me like in Rio’s house in Twentynine Palms, except this was white paper, and I had to fill it, fill it quickly, the math outpouring with overwhelming urgency because something—

I was running again—it was dark—

And then I was laughing; I was with other people, young people, teenagers, and we were laughing—

I dove into the water—

The light was too bright—

I felt the impact in my chest crack a rib, fell to the concrete—

The wind rushed by—

I leapt—

I screamed—

I slept—

Remember—

Chapter 36

Remember…

Remember what? The thought slipped through my grasp, insubstantial as smoke.

Someone was talking, saying words, too many words, too many questions—shut them out shut them out shut them out

My breath wheezed in and out with too much force, my hands flexing and grasping against the floor. I clutched tighter into myself, curled up on my side.

Where am I?…what am I?

Sense returned in slow intervals.

It was night, and the room was still. The math shimmered around me, a comforting background hum. Dawna Polk and her troops and her helicopter were all gone.

So was Rio.

Arthur’s face swam into focus above me. His expression was wrinkled with concern, though his eyes still weren’t quite focusing properly. Concussion. That’s right.

What had Dawna done to me?

I tried to cast my mind back, to put it together, but my memories of the past few minutes had jumbled into confusion, strange images that slid around until they gave me motion sickness, and the harder I tried to pin anything down, the more the images tumbled apart and dwindled away. I grabbed futilely for the connections, the shreds of recollection, vertigo shooting through me as I lost my bearings—

“Russell?” Someone was talking to me. I couldn’t remember who. “Russell? Hey, Russell, you all right?”

“Arthur,” I mumbled, his name coming back to me again even as some other thought slid away.

“The very same. You hurt?”

It took me a while to muddle out what he was asking. I had to concentrate, figure it out. “No.” Was that the right answer?

I heard him take a quiet breath, a sigh that sounded like relief.

“What happened?” I mumbled.

“Checker did it,” said Arthur. “Sounds like whatever you two was on about, it worked. Knocked Pithica off their game something good, from their reaction here.” His voice faltered, as if he didn’t know whether we’d done right or not.

I didn’t know either.

I tried to sort through my disjointed memories of the fight. “Dawna got away,” I dredged up finally.

Arthur chuckled dryly. “Think it’d be more accurate to say we got away, sweetheart. Ain’t like we had the upper hand here.”

“Rio,” I remembered. Sudden fright spiked through me. Where was he? I sat up so quickly that my brain crashed and melted inside my head, the room spasming. I would have fallen over again if Arthur hadn’t caught me.

“Whoa, whoa there. I gotcha. Just breathe.”

“Rio,” I repeated urgently. “Where is—what did they—?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Relax. It’s okay. They didn’t get him. He—saved us.” His voice sounded queer on the last words, as if they didn’t fit into his mouth correctly.

“How?” I blinked urgently, trying to clear my fuzzy vision. The room was as intact as it had been before Dawna had arrived. No additional bodies. But no Rio.

“Made a deal,” said Arthur.

“What kind of a deal?” Why wasn’t he here? What had he given Dawna?

“Hey. Hey, relax. It’s okay.” Arthur was still holding my shoulders so I didn’t fall over, and his grip was strong and comforting. “He offered them immunity.”

“He what?” I cried.

“Said he promised not to come after them. To stop working against them. Long as Dawna agreed to let us go and not come after us, either.” He swallowed. “Well. You and ‘anybody you’re working with,’ I believe were his exact words.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he do that?” My breathing hitched raggedly, despairingly. None of this made any sense.

“He saved our lives, Russell.”

“But…” But that wasn’t what Rio did. He might rearrange his goals to save more innocent people, sure, but not at the expense of fighting a greater evil. He was the only person in the world with the ability to fight Pithica effectively, and he had just given them a free pass. Forever.

To save Arthur and me. No—to save me.

“You up to moving?” said Arthur. “We should probably hoof it before the authorities get here.”

Right. I attempted an upward direction and didn’t even make it off the ground. Arthur helped me shift so I could lean up against the wall. “I need a minute,” I admitted.

He settled next to me. “A minute it is. Could use one myself.”

I took a better look at him and winced guiltily—even in the dim light, the side effects of the recent TKO were obvious. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, I was threatening to kill you, so I think we’re good.”

“So they all just left?” I asked.

“Yeah. Your friend made her dismiss the army, and then he insisted on walking her out—said something about not giving them a chance to bomb the building. He made her stop whatever mojo she’d been doing to you first, though.” He cleared his throat. “You sure you’re okay? What she hit you with?”

Remember.

“I don’t know.”

“Psychic attack or something?”

“Or something.” Red tiles, and people in white coats. A jungle and a submarine and a Dragunov sniper rifle on a mountaintop against the setting sun, a thin black girl and an Asian boy and a windswept rooftop under a starry sky. I blinked. I couldn’t recall what I had just been thinking about.

“Gotta tell you…” Arthur’s voice had turned grave and reluctant. “He let her do something else to us, before they went. Part of the deal. Wasn’t real with it myself at the time, but I think…I think he let her tell us not to come after her either, her or Pithica.”