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“Who’s there?”

Iago raised his handgun, pointing it at the door.

A beep, asking for entrance, had broken the near-total silence of their rented room.

Elliot, sitting on the floor to his left, raised his head.  His eyes were wide with alarm, following the weapon in Iago’s hand.

“Go into the bathroom,” Iago said softly.  “Don’t come out until I tell you.”

His son said nothing, but rose and moved quickly into the other room.

The walls in here were sound-proofed, the better to suit its normal clientele who wanted no questions asked.

They’d left the Gohhi Main and travelled through three other sub-stations before reaching this one.  It wasn’t that far from the main hub, one could only go so far in just a few hours.

He’d hoped it would be far enough to throw them off.  But he had been wrong.

Iago rose from the bed, checking his system for information on who was outside; but it only returned static.  Someone had disabled the sensors, and his heart hammered as he knew that meant they had come for him.

The Response Team was here to kill him.

And he knew they’d kill him. They’d gun him down and say that later that it had been an ‘accident’ and everyone would accept it because they couldn’t let him live, not knowing what he knew.

There was nothing else it could be, and he would not go down without a fight.  He’d just have to save the last bullet for himself, scramble his brain with it, to keep them from peeking inside once he was dead.

They did not deserve the truth.

They had to be protected from the truth.

Anyone who learned it, like him, would ultimately have to die.

They’d aim low to keep his head intact, and that’d leave him with enough time to-

The thought of Elliot came into his mind, and his heart nearly stopped.

If they came in guns blazing, a stray bullet might-

No, no ononono.

With a shaking hand, he lowered the gun.

“I’m opening the door,” he called.

Holstering the weapon and keeping both hands visible, he went over.

Pressing that button, going meekly, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to make himself do.

The door opened.

There was no armed team waiting there, only a lone man.

He was just above average height, his hair blonde, his eyes a piercing green.

His face and demeanor were calm and composed, and as he looked at Iago, he smiled very slightly.  It was not mocking, but warm and reassuring.

“Mr. Caraval, I have been sent to fetch you,” he said.  “If you would come with me . . . ?”

Iago found himself too stunned to move.  His eyes had glazed over, and try as he might, he could not make them focus again.

“My son,” he found himself saying.

“He will be safe,” the young man said.  “I swear it.  You can tell him that he can relax and that you will return shortly.”

“Will I?” Iago asked.  “Be returning.”

“Of course,” the man insisted gently.

Iago turned.  “Elliot,” he called.  “I’ll be back in . . . a little bit.  You . . . order a treat for yourself.  Anything you want, okay?”

After a moment, the bathroom door opened and Elliot peered out.

He saw the fear on his son’s face, his paled skin and hesitant hands.  It hurt him so much to know how much this was costing his boy, and he tried to smile as reassuringly as possible.

“Who is that?” Elliot asked.

Iago looked to the man, who smiled.  “I am a friend.  Now, shall we go, Mr. Caraval?”

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< Ep 7 Part 36 | Ep 7 Part 38 >