Chương 67: A Shared Past, An Empty Present

"Mom!" The moment Mary hopped off onto the asphalt with an enthusiasm completely unlike her usual self, I shifted closer to the window. Megan Rogers. Twenty years was a long time. There was no trace left of the girl from the next street over that I remembered. Standing in the parking lot was a poised, well-groomed woman, smiling as she pulled her daughter into a hug. Straight raven-black hair, a light summer dress, heels.

She had clearly spent more than a little time in front of a mirror getting ready for this reunion. A stupid, boyish thought slipped into my head. What if she dressed up for me? I immediately glanced at the rearview mirror above the windshield, taking stock of my own appearance. Clean-shaven. Shirt collar neat. My hair had grown out a little over the past month, and I had finally stopped looking like a chained-up Army attack dog. My gaze met the driver's scowl in the mirror.

He was staring directly at me, clearly wishing his last passenger would get the hell off the bus so he could close the doors and be done with it. The effect was instantly sobering. Mentally cursing myself, I put an end to the ridiculous inspection. The last thing I needed was to stand there checking myself out like a teenager before a date. Slinging my gym bag over my shoulder, I calmly stepped off the bus and headed toward town. After two decades of complete silence, Megan had become a total stranger to me.

We had nothing left to talk about, and I had no interest in wasting time on fake nostalgia.

"Tom? You're seriously just going to leave without even saying hello?" The woman's voice behind me sounded unfamiliar, but I recognized it instantly. I turned around, keeping my expression neutral.

"Hi, Megan." The awkward silence that always existed between people with a shared past and an empty present settled between us. Mary, still holding her mother's hand, looked back and forth between us in obvious confusion. Then again, I was not entirely sure what was going on myself.

"You didn't used to be such a grouch," Megan said with a faint smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"My car's over there. Want a ride to the airport?" My pride kicked in first. I wanted to refuse and walk away. But I had long since gotten into the habit of thinking before acting, weighing facts the way someone weighs evidence on a scale. Thankfully, every level I gained as a [Trainer] made me think faster. If I turned her down, I would have to drag myself half a mile through the heat to the city bus stop and then wait who knew how long for a ride.

If I accepted, I would travel comfortably under air conditioning and maybe figure out what Megan wanted from me in the process. Pragmatism won.

"That's a great offer. Thanks." I nodded. Megan clicked her key fob, unlocking a brand-new red Mercedes. The paint gleamed under the sun. An expensive toy. Apparently, her finances were doing just fine. Megan and I took the front seats while Mary settled into the back. Her mother's presence had a strange effect on the girl. The cold, arrogant queen persona she usually carried around had completely vanished. Right now, she looked like an ordinary twelve-year-old kid.

The German engine purred softly, and the car merged smoothly into traffic, heading toward Dulles Airport. Virginia's suburban scenery drifted past outside the windows.

"So, how was camp?" Megan asked, glancing into the rearview mirror. Her tone was light and casual, directed at no one in particular.

"Have fun?"

"No," Mary replied flatly, crossing her arms with an audible thump.

"I finished that entire academic program at home a year ago."

"I know, sweetheart, but camp isn't just about studying," Megan said gently, her voice carrying that familiar maternal note of instruction.

"Did you at least make any friends?"

"I didn't even try. I don't have anything to talk about with them. They're on a completely different level." I smiled faintly as I watched the road ahead. Strangely enough, the girl's thoughts mirrored my own almost perfectly.

"What about you, Tom?" Megan turned her head toward me for a second, shooting me a quick glance.

"My chances of becoming friends with teenagers half my age were pretty close to zero from the start," I replied calmly.

"Oh my God, you sound exactly like my daughter." Megan laughed lightly and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. I did not particularly care for that tone of hers, so friendly and familiar, as though we had parted only yesterday. But starting an argument or demanding answers in front of a child would have been the height of immaturity.

"How'd you know exactly when the bus was arriving?" I asked, steering the conversation toward safer ground.

"I didn't think relatives were given graduates' schedules." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"That rule only applies to adults," she explained readily as she slowed for a traffic light.

"According to Corps regulations, minors have to be met at the terminal by a guardian or supervisor. It keeps them from getting lost in the city."

"Treating fully trained Corps soldiers like clueless children who can't find the right bus route on their own seems a little excessive to me," I said.

"After all, they receive ranks when they graduate. Those 'children' could be commanding enlisted personnel tomorrow."

"A promotion right out of basic training?" For the first time during the drive, Megan looked genuinely caught off guard. Real confusion crossed her face.

"That only happens in exceptional cases, for some kind of extraordinary achievement. I've never met anyone like that. Usually everyone graduates as a private and waits for assignment to a unit."

"And I'm one of those exceptions!" Mary announced triumphantly from the back seat, practically bouncing on the leather upholstery.

"I'm a Staff Sergeant now! They approved my stripes three hours ago!"

"Oh, sweetheart, that's amazing!" Megan exclaimed, happily drumming her palms against the steering wheel while we sat at the red light.

"We're having a real celebration dinner tonight!" Watching the scene unfold felt strange. It was a warm, almost perfect image straight out of a commercial for some family minivan. Oddly enough, that borrowed excitement had a therapeutic effect. The tension inside the car eased, and I found myself ready for a normal, adult conversation without the constant edge of suspicion.

"So, you both settled down in D. C.?" I asked, shifting more comfortably into the leather seat.

"Yeah. I've been here sixteen years now, basically half my life." A trace of nostalgia flickered through Megan's voice as she smoothly merged into the right lane.

"By the way, Tom, a friendly piece of advice. If you're serious about building a future with the Corps, move to Washington. All the ministries, headquarters, and major facilities are right here."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I gave a short nod. Recent news from back home surfaced in my memory. Ridiculous rumors were already spreading about me working for the CIA. Staying there much longer would be risky.

"But what exactly do you mean by 'building a future'? Aren't I already part of the system automatically?"

"Not exactly." Megan bit her lip for a moment, searching for the right words.

"It depends on how much initiative you show and where you're assigned. If you choose a pure assault unit without any staff or technical responsibilities, your obligations basically come down to portal raids. Those happen maybe once or twice a year. In practice, that's just a couple of short deployments lasting a few weeks. The rest of the time, aside from mandatory military training periods, you're free to do whatever you want. You can lie on a beach in Miami or open a burger joint in New York."

"Got it. On-call work with excellent pay," I summarized, quickly grasping the idea.

"What's the second option? Actual Corps service? Like a regular office job, except in uniform?"

"Exactly. Nobody's going to exempt you from raids, of course, but the salary is on a completely different level. Better benefits, too, and most importantly, a real career path. For some reason, that strikes me as more your style." I turned my head slightly, studying her profile.

"What makes you think that?"

"A little bird from the department told me you'd somehow earned a rank before you'd even set foot in training camp." Megan let the statement hang in the air, throwing me a quick, appraising glance.

"Apparently, my former neighbor's now a regular at shooting ranges and a martial arts expert. I never noticed that kind of attraction to violence when we were kids. Remember how I begged you to join a boxing club with me, and you flat-out refused?"

"And I still think refusing was the right call," I replied calmly, watching the smooth ribbon of highway ahead.

"Boxing causes too many unnecessary injuries and is way too specialized. If a conflict breaks out, you're better off taking the fight to the ground. Brazilian jiu-jitsu, for example. Minimal damage to your own hands, and your opponent walks away with a few bruises and sprains. Nothing serious enough to bother filing a police report over."

"What if there's more than one of them?" Mary spoke up from the back seat. A distinctly childlike curiosity lit up her eyes.

"What if they've got knives?"

"That's when Krav Maga comes in," I answered, turning toward her.

"It's a brutal system designed for one purpose only: eliminating a threat to your life as quickly and ruthlessly as possible." Megan laughed softly and shook her head.

"Tom, you really haven't changed. You're still as thorough as ever, calculating every little detail." For a moment, I heard the girl she used to be in her voice. Bold. Confident. Absolutely certain she was right. This time it did not annoy me. If anything, the touch of nostalgia felt surprisingly pleasant.

"So what's your status these days, Officer Ross? What rank are you?" I did not even get a chance to answer.

"He's a Staff Sergeant, just like me!" Mary cut in confidently, clearly pleased by the idea of putting me on her level.

"Actually, I'm a Second Lieutenant," I corrected her quietly.

"The promotion was approved a couple of hours ago." The Mercedes drifted slightly as Megan gripped the steering wheel harder than she intended.

"Officer bars right after graduation?" She stared at me in disbelief and nearly missed the brake lights flashing on the car ahead.

"I don't think the Corps has ever seen a case like that."

"That's only because you're old," Mary muttered, annoyed that her triumph had been overshadowed so quickly. She slumped back into her seat with obvious resentment.

"First of all, thirty isn't old." I caught her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"When you get there yourself, you'll realize sunset's still a long way off. Second, I didn't get lieutenant because of my age. I got it because of my contributions to medicine. I helped develop treatment protocols for severe viral strains. So pretty soon, every pharmacy in the country will be carrying medication that exists partly because of my work." Mary turned toward the side window in exaggerated silence, making it clear that any discussion involving boring science was officially over.

"Either way, congratulations." Megan smiled sincerely, smoothing over the moment.

"That's an incredibly impressive start in our organization."

"Come on, Megan. My achievements are dust compared to yours. You're a full Colonel."

"Well, I've got a twenty-year head start." She smiled awkwardly, keeping her eyes on the road.

"If you'd awakened when I did, you'd probably be sitting in the Secretary of Defense's chair by now." I smiled politely in return, mirroring her expression, but there was no real smile behind it. For a split second, a slimy, ugly thought slipped into my mind. Twenty years. I had spent all those years sitting behind a computer and pushing paperwork around in a stuffy office while other people earned Mercedeses and added stars to their shoulders. I cut the thought off immediately. Hell no.

I was not about to write myself off and start measuring myself for a burial shroud just because I found my path later than everyone else. My game was only beginning, and the cards in my hand were excellent.