Back in white - Reaper # 4

Chapter 13

Our plates and bowls were set on the table, but we hadn't started eating yet. Some people watched us with smiles as we played rock-paper-scissors in three rounds. I'm sure they must have wondered if I made decisions randomly. If only they knew that we were deciding who would go on the ship and who would stay at the camp. We still went to three, out of principle, but I lost two rounds, or rather, Dee won them, depending on the perspective. So, I would be on the ship while she took care of the camp. Our objective was clear: infiltrate the premises without being detected, retrieve computers, documents, and vanish like shadows.

We shake hands and nod, aware of our respective roles. Then we go back to our roles as the resident comedians, diving into the food with the eagerness of seagulls swooping down on a forsaken French fry in a fast-food parking lot. Knowing that our next actions could lead to a tragic outcome for one of us, we decide to make the most of our afternoon. Our passionate embrace unfolds with intensity, also in three rounds, and neither of us loses. We are both winners, tenderly embracing each other in the hallway before getting ready for the evening ahead.

Tables pushed aside, the phone connected to the speakers, we get ahead, dancing together. When Glenn arrives, pushing a cart with glasses and drinks, he congratulates us, joking that he was afraid we would dance as we sing.

"Get out, Glenn!" I demand, pointing to the door before bursting into laughter. "Come on, let's do the Dirty Dancing routine!" I say, looking at Dee and clapping my hands. She runs, we miss, of course, but the result isn't too bad as she lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist. Her lips meet mine. That will be it for tonight, stolen moments, moments trying to make up for missed happiness. I can feel that we will spend the evening in an endless slow dance, our mouths sealed together.

"Already?!"

I wave my hand to signal Henry that we're busy. To the others who enter and make comments while laughing, I respond with a universal gesture, raising my middle finger, not appreciating their insinuations about joining our room. My phone is disconnected before the end of the song, another one takes over, and the party is in full swing. Everyone is having fun, that's what matters. Dee and I remain in our own bubble before mingling with the others. It's a pleasant moment of respite in our lives and our mission. We think of her sister, of those who will lose their lives tonight, and the need to avoid any leaks. Our plan is simple, tested time and time again by her and me. Tonight, we will get our hands dirty. I find myself dancing with the base director, who improvises a lively dance worthy of Fred Astaire, while I am far from being Ginger Rogers, but I laugh wholeheartedly. Dee, on the other hand, dances to Footloose with the kitchen and maintenance team, laughing uncontrollably.

We discreetly slip away, knowing that rumors of our disappearance will soon spread. We walk quickly through the Highway to reach the residential area and enter our room. In silence, we change and gear up. I send a brief coded message to Lindsay, certain that she will immediately understand the meaning:

"Ride of the Valkyries."

We move in for the attack.

I take a tube of lipstick and draw two lines around my eyes, smudging them. Dee watches me and approaches without a word, so I draw the same lines on her face.

"Which nation are you from?"

"Mohawk, from my grandmother."

"Let's go to war."

Dee leads me to the water's edge, and I settle into the kayak, securing my rifle and carrying my bag with the C-4 and handguns.

"Be careful, my love," Dee whispers, kissing me.

"You too. Watch out for the Claymores. Unless something unexpected happens, I'll wait for your signal to detonate the ship and then join you."

"If you see it's too risky, get out of there. We'll get our answers from the Representative. Now, go."