Sneak Peek - The Last Angel: The Hungry Stars, Chapter 22 (Patreon)
Content
I have the rough draft done, so all that's left is the editing. In the meantime, here is a look at what's coming up. Enjoy!
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Hello, doctor. How are you doing?
Charles was sitting in his car, looking out over the bluffs. He’d taken to coming here in the last little while. Not for any particular reason, but because one night while he’d been aimlessly driving around to avoid being home, he’d chosen to stop here. Kiel Point was a beautiful city, but from this vantage point, all he could see was the darkness of the Palantic Ocean that stretched out to the edge of the sky. To his left were the lights of Lexine Harada, the massive military port sprawling across near-shore islands, both natural and artificial. He got out of his car, standing up near the edge of the cliff, right next to the safety railing.
No one else was around, but it felt like he was being watched. Maybe he even was. Maybe someone was staring at a screen right now, drumming their fingers as the blip that would be his car never moved. This imaginary viewer, he thought, might shout ‘just jump already!’ out of frustration at having to watch Charles come out here night after night and do nothing. If so, they were bound to be disappointed. The high cliffs and pounding surf didn’t instill or engender any self-destructive impulses. Aside from drinking himself into a stupor, the doctor felt no urge to harm himself, though Anna worried all the same. He’d tried to reassure her, but it had just led to another argument. He wanted to go to her, to get back in his car and drive home, climb into bed with his wife and hold her.
He didn’t, though. He didn’t know what he’d say. Their baby girl was still alive, but... He didn’t have anything to say beyond that. Nothing that would help. Nothing that he wasn’t terrified might come out as but maybe she shouldn’t have. He was ashamed of that. How could any father think that way? But... he’d seen the images. Grace, a member of the Red Hand. The most violent terrorist organization in the galaxy. Wasn’t it better that she have died, then out causing more pain and death? How could any good citizen not think like that? How could he provide any comfort to Anna, when he was like this?
Millirysa had contacted him again. At their last meeting, she’d given him a burner phone and said she’d use it if she needed to contact him. For days it had been silent. Days for muddling through his collapsing life, with more questions, demands and intimations from Barnswell and the rest of the CIS. Of losing friends with unanswered calls, awkward silences and sudden departures, as if whatever had gotten onto Charles and his wife might spread.
Then one day, his new phone rang. Millirysa was on the other end and she needed a favour.