Battle Scars

Chapter 50: It's Still Me

Chapter fifty: It's Still Me
It wasn't until much later that night that I finally got some time to myself. There was so many people I cared about in the base, and I spent time with each of them for the remainder of that day. At least, that part in which the combined efforts of Mitch, my mother, and the hospital department couldn't make me remain in bed to heal up. My mother, I don't think, had realised entirely what my work in the rebellion entailed, and she was incredibly relieved to see me home safely again. It scared her that I could have been killed, and that I had been in a situation that got me shot twice in one day. Despite the fact that her worrying was a little tedious, it felt nice to have my mother there to care for me. It was something I'd missed greatly in the time I'd been away from her. We were just glad for each other that we were safe, even if it was only for the time being.
I spent my lunch time talking with Em, filling her in on everything that happened. She too had been worried about myself and Preston, but unlike my mother, she knew enough about me not to show it. A little later, Ivory joined us, and we spent a pleasant afternoon in the sunny cafeteria of the living complex gossiping like a herd of grandmothers. Occasionally, one of the guys would appear for a few moments, but we shooed them out of the cafe each time. It was nice to talk about something normal, that wasn't a matter of life or death, and generally act like the immature teenagers we might have been, had we not lived in the setting that we did.
The rest of the day was spent every second with Mitch. We both seemed to have realised at the same time that the other might not be there forever. We'd cheated death too many times. We watched everyone around us dying, but somehow we managed to escape each time. But whether we were on urgent business in the spy department, sitting in a meeting with the other rebellion leaders, or assisting the head of defence in organising the newly trained soldiers into squads, time spent with Mitch was time well spent.
"You know," said Mitch, at one stage, "There's such an air of doom and gloom about the place at the moment. What can we do to brighten everyone up? We're supposed to be on a mission for freedom, but we won't get very far if nobody is enthusiastic about it. It might seem like we're free in this little sanctuary we've made for ourselves here, but sooner or later we'll be discovered, bombed, and boom, dead."
"Well I can tell you one thing," I said, laughing a little at his dramatic expression. "If people like you and I, Jerome, Preston, and the others are acting like everything is doom and gloom, everybody else is going to feed off that and feel depressed about our whole situation. But on the contrary, if we act like we're really excited that we're finally going to be free, and we'll do whatever it takes to save the people, everybody will feel the same way."
"Yeah, I see what you mean," smiled Mitch. "That had never occurred to me. But you're right, we do need to keep up high spirits."
"I know that's going to be hard for you and Preston at the moment," I said.
"Honestly? Both of us are so numb to that right now. I was talking to him earlier today. The fact that we keep surviving everything they throw at us, added to the fact that we discovered Vikk and Lionel were alive kinda desensitised us to death. But death is just as real as it ever was, and it came as a shock when all of a sudden, Lionel is gone, and there's nothing we can do to get him back. There's no possibility or spark of hope that he's being kept somewhere, he's just gone." He sighed. "And I think that's a wake up call that we all needed."
"Definitely," I sighed. "Well, one thing you can be happy about is that you and Preston have each other to talk to about this. You're both going through the same thing."
"Yeah," he smiled softly.

All of these conversations ran through my mind as I laid on my bed in my room in the apartment, looking up at the ceiling. The apartment was empty besides myself, and Jerome who was in his bedroom, dead to the world. The rest were in the cafe eating tea. Mitch hadn't eaten all day, so I'd finally convinced him to slow down a little and go and eat. He finally agreed, on condition I went to bed and got some much needed rest.
But I couldn't sleep, because there was still one person I hadn't talked to. If I knew anything at all about him, I knew he would appear sooner or later. Now would be a terrible time to talk, because Mitch would be annoyed at me for not getting some sleep. But then, everything we ever did had the worst possible timing.
Sure enough, a few moments later I heard the door of my room open, and someone let themselves in. At the time, I was sitting on the end of my bed, staring out the window, with my back to the door. He walked over, and sat beside me.
"Are you ok?" He asked quietly.
"I should be asking you that," I said. I turned to look at him. His face was still thin, and his dark, tanned skin much paler than it should have been.
"I came to give you this," he said, unclipping the gold knife from around his own neck, and fastening it around my own, where it belonged. "I don't need it anymore. I can trust you without it." This brought a smile to my face.
"Thanks Vikk. I don't deserve your trust. I wish I could fix that, but I can't."
"Well, maybe you can't fix it. But we moved on from it when you got me out of there." I looked at him.
"What happened to you?" I asked softly. He sighed, and shook his head.
"I don't want to give you nightmares. In reality, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, considering we were in a genetics lab." I heaved a sigh of relief.
"So you're still you?" I asked. He chuckled.
"Yeah, it's me," he smiled. "They just used some cells and blood and stuff for testing. But they didn't get any further. Didn't edit my DNA." He was silent for a few moments, and I knew what he was about to say.
"Did Mitch tell you what I told you to ask him about?" He asked me, looking at the floor. I sighed. How to answer this one.