Miles Apart: Part 2

  Miles

  ?

  The wind blew reeds into Miles's back as he hid among them. Swish—clack, clack. While he paused, they rattled his quiver, caught on his bow, and smacked him in the head. Dang it. Horrible place to use as a checkpoint. If Supra were half-intelligent—which they never were—they could find him where the tall grass changed its pitch and tone.

  The reeds were kinder to Emi. She cleared her throat, holding a bundle to keep them still. Should've thought of that. Her other hand clutched her phone at her side, resting against the blade on her belt. The only thing Cass kept close was a pouch of dried flowers. When he'd asked her about it, she'd let him keep it on him for the whole day. Smelled nice—somewhat calming. Emi didn't care for any of that and held herself in a way that made her harder to reach.

  They were miles apart in all ways. In fact, the women shared nothing in common except him.

  A powerful gust knocked the reeds into Miles, each length of grass lashing at him like a whip. He inched closer to Emi, preparing for another reed mauling. None came. Behind him, Emi clenched a fistful of weeds. Thump. Thump.

  "Have you seen anything?" she asked him, raising her voice over the wind and grass, closing the space between them.

  Anything? Nothing she hadn't also seen as they'd been scouting the airport together. But it wasn't what he was seeing. It was what he wasn't.

  They targeted Supra Supply Depots, and nothing about this place made it one, maybe because Depots weren't airports in the middle of nowhere.

  The building had to be vacant. Tap. Tap. Miles tapped his foot into the ground in a steady rhythm. Maybe she didn't see what he saw—wide stretches of clear concrete with no boot prints, no tire marks, grass creeping in at the edges. The whole place felt empty. Besides, Supra would have to be idiots to keep rations and equipment this far out.

  There was one thing that unsettled him more than the rest.

  "No, I'm not seeing anything. I don't think there's Supra here..., but uh," Miles paused and rubbed his knee before he continued, "I hear something that sounds like a generator. A humming sound. Do you hear it too?"

  Just then, the reeds slipped from Emi's grip, and she caught them again, cheeks lifting to her eyes like she was smiling wide under her mask.

  "I hear it. Thought it was just me. But at least—" She stopped.

  "Yeah?"

  "At least it's not completely abandoned."

  No... That wasn't what she was going to say. At least–what?

  She pulled out her phone's retractable antenna and flipped the switch from cell to radio—some rigged attachment the Vocate kid added for missions so Supra couldn't eavesdrop.

  Sh. The radio hissed. She stared down at the device, turning the dial with a click of each notch. It was a stupid process. The Vocate had an actual radio with him that showed the frequency. With Emi's device, there was no display, so she had to remember exactly which frequency they left it on and count as she turned the dial. The last mission, they left it on 92.3. Click. 94.5... 94.6... Then she stopped.

  "I don't—" she cut herself off, covering her mouth with her hand, mumbling, "which number was I on...?"

  What was wrong with her?

  "You're on 94.6."

  "Right", she said, and returned to turning the frequency dial. Too slowly...

  Miles shifted on his feet and leaned in toward her, holding out his hand, palm up, "I can do it. Just tell me the frequency."

  She barely hesitated, passing the phone to Miles. "Sure..." she said quietly and squeezed her knees together, "Um– he said it's 106.5 this time."

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Freaking favored. Of course, that Vocate asshole had to choose a number all the way up there.

  Her phone had a cracked screen covered in her fingerprints, and wires poking through the casing. The keyboard was fixed at a slanted angle. Keys had fallen off from use.

  He turned the dial of the attachment. Click. Click. The numbers counted up as it turned, and he memorized each one as he held the screen in front of him, navigating by pressing the arrows to see her most recent communication.

  There was nothing new or unexpected in her messages, but his was the third text down. Had the time passed that much since they messaged?

  The last message between them was Miles's response to Emi telling him that she needed to get away from camp for a bit and was going to go for a walk through the forest. She did that a lot, but never announced it, so he said, "cool." Looking back on it now, it might have been an invitation for him to join her.

  There. 106.5. The station was purely static—nothing on the other end by the sound of it.

  "Pretty sure it's this one," Miles held in a sigh and returned the phone to her.

  She lifted it to her mouth and pushed down a button, "Hey, asshole. Are you there?"

  Miles's feet slid across the gravel, almost stumbling backward, but he caught himself and coughed into his fist instead.

  What? His lips curved into a smile. Emi being in on the Vocate asshole trend was... sort of reassuring.

  Static.

  Then a voice came through. "Use—code name. Over."

  "I was," Emi flicked the antenna.

  Sh. "—code name is Digit. Got it? Over."

  Emi rolled her head toward Miles, put a finger to her head, and pretended to shoot herself. Her way of saying, 'just kill me now.'

  Where was this coming from? Completely different than how she'd been treating him.

  "Well, Digit. The place looks empty, but we think it has electricity." She spun toward Miles, looking at him with gentle eyes, as though she wanted confirmation, so Miles nodded.

  The static continued for too long, then he said, "Well, good—we're almost there."

  "Tell Emi I said hi." Garrett's voice was quieter, further away.

  The Vocate cut in, "Yeah... so don't go—yet. The heat scanner hasn't cleared—area—and it just killed my batteries, so I had to start over. It's going to be a few minutes. Over."

  "Alright," Emi said.

  "And just as a reminder—need to say 'over' when you're done talking so I know you're done. Over."

  "Nope. Also, you forgot to use my code name. It's Master."

  "Fuck you. Over," he said.

  "That's, 'fuck you, Master,'" Emi said back.

  What... the fuck was that? Way too chummy. What had Miles missed? Miles was her boyfriend. So if anyone was going to talk to her like that, it should have been him.

  Now Emi was staring at him with those eyes again—

  Everything was wrong.

  And—

  Emi slammed the antenna down, "I guess we wait."

  Securing his boots into the gravel, Miles folded over himself to slow his racing heart.

  "Miles?" Emi said.

  The electric hum pulsed through the air, and Emi crept closer, a faint moonlight revealing red eyes, cheeks bruised purple from lack of sleep. He might've looked the same.

  With the silence and Emi's playfulness during the tension, it may be a good time to bring it up...

  He had to tell her about Cass before she did it for him.

  If only he knew where to start...

  Cass just sort of happened. Thinking on it, it was a few months ago on that first day of mission preparations.

  Miles was late to the lodge, and when he finally joined them, Emi and the Vocate were already deep in planning, staring at a computer screen. Whatever they were doing, they kept him out of it. Whether it was intentional or not, they had to have known that Miles wasn't following the computer talk. Miles still tried.

  "Sorry," Emi told him. "We're working on figuring out logistics now. We'll work that out later." Logistics. That's what Miles had been trying to do when he offered tactical advice against the Supra.

  Miles pounded a fist on the wall and tapped with his fingers. Tap. Tap. Emi looked at him in surprise for a moment, eyebrows low, then turned to the computer without saying anything. Freaking favored. It was as if he didn't belong.

  "How long are you going to stare at that screen?" he asked, kindly as he could.

  The Vocate wore a smug smile, leaned back, arms behind his head, while Emi reached over him and started tapping at the keyboard, "All day," he said.

  "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, Miles," Emi said.

  What the hell did she mean? Of course, Miles didn't want to be there for the computer talk. But he was—for her. And she'd just made it clear she didn't need that.

  So Miles left. Before he said something worse.

  Took the whole freaking day off from chores for this, so there was nothing else to do but waste time. Pablo was on water duty. Garrett was chopping wood, and Miles didn't want to distract him. Everyone else was uninteresting.

  Tuning the radio to a music station that played the classics from before Miles was born, he sat at the table and started to whittle away at a stone to a point.

  Cass sat at the log by the fire, sewing something out of a raccoon pelt from last week's trap rotation. She kept glancing at him. As if she wanted something but wouldn't say it. It had only been a year since Sansi took Cass in, so she was still new to things, while everyone else had a lot more history to share. She probably felt alone.

  "What are you making?" Miles asked. Cass hesitated, but soon joined Miles at the table, answering Miles's dumb questions that he didn't care for the answer to. He was trying to be nice, but it wasn't working for her. She only had short answers. So instead of getting her to talk, he told her his stories instead—how he met Pablo, how he came to Amal, trained with Twin Blades, how they ended up here.

  Cass leaned closer, eyes wide, listening like his words mattered. The more he talked, the more she lit up, asking questions. Was his life really that interesting? She made every little thing sound impressive. It went straight to his head. And his heart.

  Nearly every day since then, he'd skip meetings and finish chores early to talk to Cass. No matter what she was doing, she listened. She liked him. Eventually, she was even blunt about it. How she found him handsome, kind, intelligent, and deserved so much more than what he had. Better than Emi. When Cass looked at him with those fiery eyes, he believed it.

  One day, he let it happen. Emi wasn't acting like a girlfriend anymore—not really—and Cass—well, she was different. It was easier than it should have been to let his needs and his thoughts consume him. His heart would flutter around Cass, and talking turned to touching—turned to kissing—turned to late nights in her tent.

  Cass was everything Miles needed, but she had a single problem with their relationship. He was still with Emi.

  After a lot of thinking about what Miles wanted from both Emi and Cass, he made a decision.

  On mission day, he'd tell Emi

  It was over.

  *** Character-specific extras included in post author's note*

  Miles Apart continues in the next part.

  Thank you for reading!

  [Extra]: Miles in "Berries"