True Bloods
(Several days later)
[Day POV]
I feel the heat of the body next to me roll away. It leaves my left side bare and cold, alone. I open one eye and blearily make out a pajama-clad June heading into the bathroom.
I'm a sitting up in bed when June emerges from the bathroom, hair wet and dressed in her soldier garb. June is still an active field agent. She goes on day missions all the time, which leaves me sick with worry when I am in all the goddy political meetings I'm forced to attend. Anden made me some sort of "ambassador" but I rarely do anything. For the most part, I'm the people's voice. I inform the Elector Primo of what issues are faced by the common person.
Today, however, June is not doing her agent duties. Instead, she is accompanying me ("Ambassador Wing"), Pascao (who's now a Republic soldier, who would have thought?), and a camera crew on a scouting mission. We're supposed to be going to check out some city ruins near the border. Apparently there's some new rebel group causing the Republic trouble. They're like the patriots, but instead of impoverished people who want fair rights, the "True Bloods" as they call themselves, are wealthy people who want the Republic to return to the way it was. It reminds me of something John used to say, "The poorer the poor are, the richer the rich are."
I force myself to get out of bed, which is a challenge, being as the sun has yet to kiss the sky with dawn. Today I have to wear the standard uniform for a Republic agent. The top part of the uniform consists of a scratchy black button-up dress shirt with a too-tight collar and wind-proof black jacket. Both of them have an obnoxious gold Republic emblem on the left shoulder. The right shoulders have clear pockets for my IDs. The pants are plain and actually quite flexible, which I cherish in comparison to the shirt. The getup is completed by strong, black leather boots with large heels. They're a little clunky for my taste, but will do well.
I head out to our kitchen. June is standing with her back to me, facing into the kitchen. One of her hands is in front of her, resting on her stomach. "Hey cousin." I say gently, approaching her. "You alright?" June nods, but still looks troubled. "Just some stomach-upset." June assures me. "Maybe you should have some breakfast?" June shakes her head vehemently, like the very thought of food makes her want to hurl. I proceed to eat an apple, careful not to get it too close to June.
Our hodgepodge "crew" reaches the destroyed city at about eight in the morning, which if you ask me is still too early. I halfheartedly sip some coffee, but I never did like coffee all that much. The sound of our boots crunching on the ruins and our breath in the cold air are the only sounds. The place is decimated. What was once a sprawling metropolis is now only a sparse scattering of standing buildings, most of which are unstable or only a few stories high. The ground is so littered with rocks, pieces of buildings, and who-knows-what-else that the grass below is not visible. In fact, I doubt there is grass below. Likelihood is that only dirt lays under the rubble. I suppose it's fitting though. Like grass converting to dirt, this city was once great and has now fallen.
Three hours later, we still haven't found anything. The camera crew got some shots of June and I milling about the wreckage. I have no idea what they want to do with the footage, and I don't care. We're strolling peacefully about the city when June stops. "What is it? Is your stomach bothering you again?" June mouths, "No, I'm fine." then places her fingers to her lips, quieting us. I listen closely for anything, but hear nothing. June points to a pile of rocks several feet in front of us. I look back and raise an eyebrow at her, questioning. "Voices" June mouths wordlessly. I inch slowly towards the pile. When I'm barely a foot away, I finally hear some sounds, whispers. I wonder how the people got underground and I look around for somewhere they might have entered. There's a crumbling, one person sized shed about a hundred feet away from us. I glance back towards June and nod towards the shed. She cranes her neck to see it, then nods. In tandem, we walk towards the shed.
Once inside the shed, June and I view a ladder that plummets into blackness. With a look behind us, I note that our camera crew is not there, but Pascao is with us. June is leading the group and starts crawling down the ladder. I follow with Pascao close behind. At the bottom of the ladder is a narrow tunnel. The voices are louder down here, but there is no light. June pulls a flashlight from her belt and illuminates the tunnel. It's moist, with metal walls and roof. The floor is cement. To the right of me, something is written on the wall. I touch June's shoulder and point to it. She shines the flashlight fully on it. The wall reads, "We are the True Bloods! the Republic is rightfully ours..." So there really are rebels here after all. June's face turns grim. She pulls her radio from her belt and whispers almost inaudibly, "Rebel hideout found. Identified as the True Bloods faction. People nearby. No visual, but audio confirmed. This is Agent June Iparis-Wing awaiting further orders." After a minute or two, the radio crackles to life. "Agent June Iparis, this is Commander Rickson. Orders are not to proceed, given your- uh- condition. A whole squad will be arriving. Agents Gerald (that's Pascao's surname), Wing, Iparis-Wing, and camera crew directly ordered to vacate the area." My face swirls into confusion- condition? June doesn't have a condition. I look at her and ask quietly, "Condition?" June assures me, "It's nothing. I just called in that I had a stomachache the past few days and they're worried it might be some sort of resurgent plague. I don't even know why they called me off." Still, something doesn't seem right. I've never seen June quit a mission without a fight, but she leads us back up the ladder and into the light. Pascao and I are too stunned that she's actually leaving to do anything. We load our crew and equipment into our jeep. The drive back to the train station is quiet.
The mood has lightened a bit when we return to the train station. Pascao is joking and teasing everyone, and June and I are smiling. Pascao coerces us into agreeing to a dinner party with all our mutual friends (including Tess and Eden of course) in a few days, providing that June is feeling well. June seems to be feeling fine to me, which takes a little worry off my shoulders. Grinning and passing some edamame back and forth, we walk home.
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