Earth Thirst (The Arcadian Conflict) - By Mark Teppo Page 0,65
I did not question. I did not deviate. I was the one who could be counted on to complete the mission and come home.
I did it for hundreds of years. Across many continents. Under countless banners and generals. I served Mother, wherever she needed me. I did what she asked; in return, she healed my wounds and took the pain away.
The plane taxies down the runway and slows to a stop before the tiny terminal. There are only two gates, servicing the two directions the planes fly. East or west.
When Troy burned, we fled west. We had no choice. West was where the open water lay, where undiscovered regions awaited us. We fled the burning wreckage of our past, and became something new. The sun set in the west, and we followed it until we found a new home.
And where is my home now? Arcadia is closed to me. Troy has been lost for millennia. Home is where the hearth is. Where the family is. I have neither. “What does that make me?” I ask the giant head.
I rest my hand on the cool stone of the moai, feeling the texture of the weathered surface. It is a reminder of a different age. One that has atrophied and become fossilized over the last hundred years. The old gods are gone; the new ones did not dwell long among the people either. The island has been abandoned. The soul is gone. All that remains is an empty husk.
We become strangers, in the end. The world changes and we slip out of place. Nothing more than solitary wanderers who don't know where to go. Or who they are anymore.
TWENTY-THREE
I enter the hotel through the front, a lazy mistake, and as soon as I clear the door, I catch the lingering aroma of tobacco. Gauloises Blonde. I make a right-hand turn into the tiny gift shop and busy myself with examining the dizzying array of plastic and foam moai trinkets. Through the wire mesh of the display rack, I scan the lobby and spot the woman from the parking lot of Eden Park—the one who had waited outside the rental for her companion to make a call. She's sitting in one of the comfortable chairs opposite the main desk, pretending to read a magazine. Her eyes betray her, flicking up and scanning the room every time she turns the page.
The only reason she didn't make me immediately is because her attention was focused on the elevator and the stairs. There's no one else around in the lobby and, even though she didn't see my face, she saw me go into the gift shop. I can't leave without her getting a good look at me.
She never saw me at Eden Park, and I consider if it is possible that she knows my face. The guy in the passenger seat of the car at the hospital parking lot has seen me. He might be able to ID me from airport security footage, if they've got it. But it'll be a shitty picture at best, meaning the woman in the lobby will second-guess what she sees.
That'll be enough.
I walk out of the gift shop and stroll slowly across the lobby, giving her time to get a good look at my profile, and as I approach the elevator, I divert to the stairs instead. Once through the ground floor door, I dart up the steps to the second-floor landing. I open the door and wait, listening; in a few seconds, I hear the door open down below. I leave the stairwell, letting the second-floor door shut noisily behind me. Just so there's no confusion where I've gone. There's a narrow alcove across the hall that contains an ice and a vending machine as well as a door marked “Employees Only.”
When the brunette comes through the stairwell door, I grab her roughly. One hand on her throat; the other on her wrist. She's got a gun in her hand, and my grip keeps her weapon low. I drag her across the hall and ram my shoulder against the marked door, splintering the lock. Beyond is a narrow closet, lined with racks of cleaning supplies and linens. I spin her against one of the racks, stunning her. She gets her act together fairly quickly, and starts to raise her gun. I intercept her motion, snapping her wrist and peeling the gun out of her hand. She starts to cry out, but I grab a pillow off a nearby shelf