Chương 80: The Countdown Begins

The nighttime walk through Bogotá came to an uneventful end. I took a quick look at several municipal parks within a couple of blocks of our disguised headquarters. Under the sparse glow of the streetlights, they looked plain and purely functional. The landscaping would be worth another look in daylight. After that, Danny still managed to drag me into a local nightclub. The visit turned out to be a complete waste of time.

I nursed a nonalcoholic Long Island with zero enthusiasm because my modified metabolism rendered ethanol completely ineffective. After thirty straight minutes of relentless bass rattling my skull and chaotic bursts of neon assaulting my vision, I reached the obvious conclusion that the outing offered me nothing but dull irritation. The rational choice was to head back to the barracks.

"And that's it? Thirty minutes of 'getting some fresh air' was enough for you?" Danny trudged along the sidewalk beside me, lazily sipping some weak local booze through a straw from a glass bottle.

"Tom, seriously, it's only eleven. The night's just getting started."

"I know what time it is," I replied, methodically scanning the empty streets. The lively part of the city was behind us now. Around here, most working-class Colombians had long since gone to bed before their morning shifts.

"So what, you're worried about the deployment schedule?" the captain asked, refusing to let it go as he tried to catch my eye.

"Relax, Tom. As long as the assault team commander isn't back on base, nobody's gonna write you up for bending the rules. Take my advice and enjoy the downtime. I guarantee he won't be back before morning."

"This is not the first time I have heard people say that keeping this man waiting is a very bad idea. Does he really issue formal reprimands over every minor mistake?"

"He can bury you in paperwork if he wants to, sure, but that's not really what everyone's talking about." Danny waved his free hand dismissively.

"The second the commander steps onto the base, the countdown starts. Twelve hours later, give or take, the team heads straight into the portal."

"I understand. His arrival at the base effectively serves as the official start signal for the operation."

"Finally, you get it." Kim grinned and raised the bottle in a mock salute.

"As long as the boss is away, everything's on standby. No reason to stress. And trust me, he won't show up before noon tomorrow. We'll have plenty of time to eat breakfast and maybe even sleep off a hangover if anybody needs to."

"I am not returning to the barracks because I fear disciplinary action," I said, shaking my head without slowing down.

"My decision is based entirely on personal priorities. Nightlife holds no appeal for me in any form. Clubs, alcohol, random dancing, none of it offers anything I find worthwhile. Excessive noise and constantly shifting visual stimuli produce nothing but predictable discomfort."

"Oh, come on. You just can't dance and you're embarrassed to admit it, aren't you?" A dull wave of irritation stirred inside me. That particular human habit had always fascinated me. You could explain your preferences plainly, logically, and without leaving any room for interpretation, yet people instinctively refused to accept that someone simply liked different things. They always felt compelled to invent some hidden childhood trauma, psychological complex, or secret fear behind a perfectly rational decision.

It never occurred to them that football, dancing, or whiskey was not a universal measure of happiness and could simply be boring.

"I can dance, and I do it with a high degree of coordination," I replied evenly, with no intention of wasting time arguing about personal taste.

"I simply have no desire to. Those are two different things."

"Oh yeah?" Danny stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes lighting up with pure boyish excitement.

"Prove it. Right here. Or are you chicken?"

"Very well. Right here, under that streetlight, I am prepared to perform a technically flawless rendition of Michael Jackson's classic moonwalk. However, we will make it a wager. On one condition."

"Let's hear it." Danny adjusted his grip on the bottle, already looking forward to the show.

"If my performance meets the accepted standard, you will throw away the rest of your drink in the nearest trash can without further argument and return to the base with me. My conscience will not allow me to leave a fellow soldier alone in an unfamiliar city."

"That's all? Deal." Danny confidently held out his hand.

"But if you stumble even once, lose your balance, or your moves aren't smooth, you're hanging out with me until sunrise."

"Agreed." I gave his hand a firm shake. I closed my eyes for a moment, instantly retrieving a detailed instructional video from the depths of my memory palace. Back when I had been an ordinary office worker, I often spent my lunch breaks mindlessly scrolling through popular video platforms out of boredom. Around that time, they had been flooded with tutorials like this.

I had chosen the one with the clearest biomechanical breakdown, analyzed every movement, and mapped the sequence onto my own musculoskeletal system. [The Trainer's Presence adjusts microscopic muscle contractions to achieve maximum coordination and peak efficiency.] My weight shifted onto the ball of my right foot. My left heel remained planted against the asphalt as it glided smoothly backward. One, two. Shift the supporting leg. Perfect balance. Pivot on my heels and repeat the cycle in reverse.

My boots slid across the Colombian pavement as though I were gliding over the polished floor of a Broadway stage.

"No freaking way... Are you serious? Where the hell did you learn that?" Danny stood frozen, his jaw hanging open as the straw nearly slipped out of the bottle.

"That's real street dance. Office drones aren't supposed to move like that."

"I will take that as your acknowledgment that you have lost the wager. Please honor your end of the agreement." A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Ah, the hell with it." Danny sighed dramatically, tipped his head back, and drained the rest of the tropical drink in one massive gulp.

"What? You never said the bottle had to be full when I threw it away." The empty glass bottle clattered into the bottom of a nearby trash bin. I simply looked away from Danny's beaming face. He seemed genuinely proud of finding such a cheap way to "beat the system." Childish. Still, the objective had been accomplished. We turned and headed back toward the base.

The next morning I woke up early without the slightest trace of fatigue or a heavy head. The same could not be said for Danny. Judging by the labored snoring drifting from his bunk, he was quietly suffering through a mild hangover and fully intended to stay buried under his pillow until lunchtime. I had no desire to waste the morning sitting in a stuffy room surrounded by soldiers I did not know or monotonously stuffing my memory with terabytes of online reading.

After finishing a decent field-ration breakfast, I headed straight for the exit. This time I intended to explore the city entirely on my own. My plans for a solitary walk, however, were not meant to happen.

"Tom, you're heading out, right?" Ted's cheerful voice caught me just as I reached the exit of the barracks.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to explore central Bogotá. I plan to visit several major historical sites and take photographs for the family archive," I answered openly, seeing no reason to conceal my plans.

"If the Corps has sent me to another continent and given me a brief period of downtime, I should use that opportunity as efficiently as possible."

"That's awesome! Hey, can I come with you?" Hope flashed openly across the boy's face.

"I do not mind. Why do you want to?"

"I just... I don't really fit in here," Ted admitted, glancing back toward the gray barracks before lowering his voice.

"There are people everywhere, but I've got nobody to talk to. Everybody acts like I'm invisible." I nodded in understanding. As a complete introvert, I found those conditions almost ideal. No one forced meaningless conversations on me. I had a reliable internet connection and an endless supply of information online. Give me a couple of good books, and I would probably be perfectly comfortable even in solitary confinement. For extroverted teenagers, however, the situation was entirely different.

They needed approval, companionship, and constant conversation. Danny filled that void with late-night outings and alcohol before sleeping half the day away. A minor did not have that option. Naturally, Ted gravitated toward the only familiar person in an otherwise unfamiliar environment: me. I made a mental note of the observation. It would be worth passing those conclusions along to the Corps' analysts later.

Temporary headquarters like this desperately needed a staff psychologist or at least someone assigned to work with underage Awakened recruits. Leaving them isolated among cynical veterans was an inefficient use of valuable human resources. Then again, Ted was not the only isolated teenager here.

"Go over to the women's barracks and ask Mary if she'd like to join us."

"What? Seriously, Tom?" Ted's eyes widened, and he actually took a step back.

"I asked her like a hundred times back at camp to play video games or just hang out. She shot me down every single time. She's gonna tell me to get lost again. Forget it."

"The outcome of this attempt is not determined by the previous one hundred. Go ask her. I will need about ten minutes to handle the paperwork at the checkpoint." Even here in Latin America, American regulations concerning minors remained fully in force. Corps policy required anyone under eighteen to leave the base under the supervision of a commissioned adult officer.

At the gate, I quickly handled the required paperwork, confirmed my status as a second lieutenant, and accepted temporary responsibility for both teenagers. A few minutes later, Ted returned. To my mild surprise, Mary Rogers was walking calmly behind him.

"Can you believe it?" Ted said, practically glowing as he waved his hands excitedly.

"Attempt number one hundred and one finally worked! She actually said yes!"

"Do not flatter yourself, Drake," Mary replied coolly.

"I only agreed because Mr. Ross invited me. If you'd asked, I would've said no."

"Why does that even matter?" Ted asked, genuinely confused.

"Because the activity matters. You always suggest something childish. Tom wants to spend the day exploring an unfamiliar city and actually learning something."

"Video games aren't childish! You're just too young to appreciate them!" Ted shot back, his voice immediately rising. Mary inhaled, clearly preparing a sharp reply, but I stepped between them, cutting off their eye contact.

"That is enough. This conversation serves no purpose." I gave both of them a firm, level look before briefly glancing toward two assault troopers leaning against the nearby wall, watching the childish argument with obvious amusement and disdain. I did not like having their attention drawn to us.

"We are here to explore Bogotá. There is one rule. Stay where I can always see you and remain within five yards of me. Let us go."

"Lieutenant, be back on base no later than eighteen hundred," the guard called after us as he released the heavy bolt securing the outer gate with a loud metallic click.

"And remember, those kids are your responsibility. If anything happens to them out there, you're the one who'll answer for it."

"We both understand the rules," I replied evenly. We stepped outside, passed the bright orange safety cones surrounding the disguised perimeter, and entered the city. Bogotá moved at its usual frantic pace: aging cars clogged the streets, exhaust filled the air, fruit vendors shouted from the sidewalks, and locals hurried through their daily routines.

"So where are we headed first?" Ted asked, immediately looking in every direction like the stereotypical American tourist on vacation.

"Are we just gonna wander around and see what we find?"

"Wandering without a plan is inefficient and unnecessarily increases security risks," I replied, keeping both teenagers in my peripheral vision.

"After reviewing local travel guides and crime reports, I concluded that aimlessly walking through random neighborhoods in Bogotá is both dangerous and unproductive. About forty minutes ago, I used an app to book a licensed taxi to Enrique Olaya Herrera National Park. The enclosed park offers a safe place to observe hummingbirds. After that, we will visit the Gold Museum. If we stay on schedule, we should reach every major destination before sunset."

Two minutes later, a yellow Colombian compact taxi pulled up to the curb with a squeal of brakes. I confirmed our destination in fluent Spanish, verified the fare, and the three of us climbed inside.

"You... you actually planned the whole trip, found a trustworthy taxi, and handled everything in Spanish?" Ted stared at me from the back seat as though I had just performed a magic trick.

"Have you been to Colombia before?"

"No. However, I had an entire day of free time and access to the barracks' wireless network. That was sufficient to prepare."

"You're exactly the kind of person people can depend on, Mr. Ross," Mary said quietly, watching the neighborhoods drift past outside her window.

"Now I understand why my mom kept telling me to stay close to you after we were mobilized." I did not reply, but her words improved my mood. Megan believed in me. Our sightseeing trip was brief, efficient, and surprisingly rewarding. The teenagers got the change of pace they needed, and I was equally satisfied with the results. I took several photographs of the city's architecture and sent them to my mother through a messaging app to reassure her. We returned to the disguised base at exactly 5: 45 p. m.

, well within the deadline the guard had given us. As it turned out, our timing could not have been better. The commander of our assault team had finally arrived at headquarters. He had not come through the ordinary wooden entrance facing the busy streets of Bogotá. Instead, a heavily armored figure stepped confidently out of the glowing white portal.