Shadow Of The Past Trilogy ∞ THE DISPLACED

103 ∞ closing in

Day Twenty ∞ Wednesday morning

WEAVER CAME TO A HALT inside the invisible dome wall again, bored out of his mind. The initial excitement had vanished when his subjects were taken away and the second ship landed forty hours ago. Other than the break-up of half of the camp for some mission yesterday, everything was at a standstill—it was just him and the remaining black ops detachment hanging out in the middle of the desert with two silent ships from another world.

At least he hadn't suffered any more episodes of the faces. Not even a whisper. What the girl did to him, he had no idea. But he respected her for it—for her tenacity, for her love for others, for even considering him worthy of such love. He hoped that kid was looking after her.

He grunted. Damn if he wasn't getting sentimental. He'd better watch himself.

A soldier stood a few paces away on the other side, his carbine hanging casually on his shoulder, looking as bored as Weaver felt. He was a tall guy with sun-bleached hair under his Army-issued cover and a bad case of sunburn. Weaver was contemplating a jog around the perimeter before the sun got too hot when the guy pulled a pack of smokes from his chest pocket and lighted one.

Weaver shook his head to himself. Now he was feeling the cravings. After a moment's hesitation, he shrugged. Why the hell not? "Hey, can you spare me one?"

The guy smirked. "Oh, really?"

"Well, what can I say?" Weaver smiled. "It's not like I can get up and go to the store next door. I'm as stuck here as you are."

The soldier studied him thoughtfully, then reached into his pants and pulled an unopened packet of Lucky Strikes. "I just came back from town. I guess I can afford it." He tossed it high toward Weaver but it reached only midway in the air and bounced back to the ground. The soldier gaped, then burst into guffaws.

Weaver cursed, frustrated. He'd forgotten about the shield. But then the abrupt silence snatched his attention to the guy's face and the direction of his bulging stare. To Weaver's astonishment, the packet was floating above the ground straight toward him.

"Take it," a sweet voice said behind him.

He snapped his head around to find a young girl exit the opening of Deymos. She half-skipped down the ramp, her red skirt bouncing between a formal, short-sleeved top and gladiator sandals strapped up her calves.

The soldier yelled, and Weaver turned in time to see him run towards the improvised post erected a dozen meters away. 

"Sergeant, sergeant! You have to come here immediately!"

The girl looked at Weaver with cheerful eyes. Smiling back, he stared at her, ignoring the poking in his chest. Nobody else was supposed to be on Charlie Mi's ship, so where did this pretty girl come from? The other one?

"Isn't that what you wanted?" She pointedly nodded at him.

He looked down to find the pack of cigarettes pushing impatiently. He snatched it from the air and felt his pants pocket. "Shoot." His lighter was buried in his seabag aboard the ship.

The girl approached him with a mocking smirk. "What's the problem?" Her voice remained as sweet as before.

"Oh, well, now I have cigarettes but no way to light them."

She stopped in front of him. "Do you need fire?"

At his hesitant nod, she closed her fist in front of his face and slowly lifted her middle finger. Weaver shuffled, feeling distinctly uneasy.