Page 45 of Double Shot
Fuck.
I checked the saved videos, and there were several archived news loops. I clicked on them, letting them play through. The Soviet warhead worked flawlessly, and there had been no incriminating evidence found. The only thing that I could find in several news trawls were reports of military-grade explosives being used, and that for some strange reason, it read an antique Soviet era explosive. Arson wasn’t being pursued since such weapons would be almost impossible to get into the US.
The investigation was wrapped, and it was deemed that the Chinese must have been involved, as several ships had been sunk, there were several dozen arrests made, and that there had been some sort of underworld grand melee.
I hit the bottle again, taking a pull from the neck. Bootlegger Head had reverted to state control, and there was no current plan on what to do with the property other than having the wreckage cleared away and the grounds made safe again.
I wiped at my face; I was running away again.
I clicked through more of the emails.
Dear Conan,
Today I’m angry. Angry with Kyle for being so cold blooded, and angry with you which I find devastating but I can’t help it.
Whatever happened to your promise? You swore you would never lie to me, but you did. You looked me right in the eye and lied and said you would be right behind me but you weren’t and now you’re gone and I just can’t take anymore.
It’s frozen out there, colder than you can imagine. My hands go numb so easily and it hurts with every recoil but it doesn’t hurt enough to match what I’m feeling inside. Today is one of those bad days where I feel like I could never forgive you… and I immediately drown in guilt for it.
I miss you.
I miss Kyle the way he was before all of this… but most of all, I miss me.
I wish you both had let me die.
Sadie.
My heart broke for her. I could hardly imagine how it had been for her. They had bunkered in Montana, in the old silo facility, under the snow and ice, with Lach wounded, me seemingly dead, and her all but alone again. I could see how her space in the warehouse might have seemed more appealing by comparison.
There was no hole deep enough to hide the Escadrille bastards from me.
I clicked through more of the emails. I read as she processed through the stages of grief. Laying it out as stages made it seem trite. It took the emotion out of it, reducing trauma and suffering to levels like a game.
Dear Conan,
I woke, dreaming of you.
I dreamed I lay there sound asleep, roused by a gentle sweep of fingertips along my back, and when I opened my eyes, it was you.
God, I can’t tell you how much I wished this dream were something true.
I did something today I’m really not proud of. I fucked Kyle on the weight room floor. The first time for anything since… well, you know.
He wasn’t into it. I don’t know why I did it except for selfish reasons. I wonder if this is what being mad feels like. Mad with grief… I cried in the shower afterward and I feel so guilty. Sometimes I wonder if he blames me for your death. I know I do.
Losing you has broken me in ways I didn’t think possible. I hate them for that. I hate myself for it and I want to hate you. I want to hold my anger and wrap myself in it the way I used to wrap myself in you but I can’t. I think of you and it all slips away and all that’s left is this horrible ravaged wasteland where I feel like my heart used to be.
Kyle is more distant than ever, fixated on some distant point… I can’t even say he’s Kyle anymore. This is Lach. He’s fully Lachlan now, if that makes sense.
I don’t know, maybe I’m something different too. Not Sadie, not Poppet or Shady, not even Roan Lachlan. I don’t know what I should be called. I don’t know what’s left. I feel like this hollowed-out shell, a ghost, wandering through – well, I won’t say anything about where I am.
I love you; I hate you, and everything in between.
I wish you were here. I wish I were there. Everything in between that, too.
I don’t know who or what I am anymore except yours. Yours in life and now in death.
Yes, that’s how I’ll sign this.
