Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 10: Revelations

"Read tabloids?" I ask, already tired of this conversation.

"No," she says, her confusion changing to a look of near-suspicion.

"Ever heard of the Burkes?"

Her face clears and recognition springs into her eyes. Damn. So much for the hope that my obnoxious family isn't as famous as I feared. I watch as her eyes narrow and her head tilts to one side. She seems to be looking at nothing, her eyes unfocused near a spot over my right shoulder. Suddenly her gaze snaps to me and is more scrutinizing than I've ever seen it.

I look away, feeling very uncomfortable with this attention.

"Oh," she says, and I glance back up at her face. Her expression relaxes and her eyes widen. "The son who died. That funeral - your funeral - was everywhere. What was that, three years ago?"

"Five," I say. "Did you watch it?"

I don't know why I asked that question. I kind of hate myself for it.

"No," she says quickly. "I just remember that it happened. I don't watch their show. I don't even remember what you look like."

She seems to be telling the truth. I suppose it's some small relief to know that she's not truly that familiar with who I was.

"Everyone thinks you're dead," she says.

"Yes."

"But you're not."

"No." I thought this was obvious.

"Why?"

"You really have no idea how ruthless the media can be, do you?"

She looks at me questioningly.

"It was the only way to get them off the scent for good. I'm sure some tabloids still run articles about me being secretly alive, though. They do that for all sorts of celebrities who've died, especially under unusual circumstances. Even little kids, sometimes. It's disgusting. If they knew I was still alive -"

I stop, not wanting to contemplate that future.

"Why do you have issues with your family, then? They've agreed to help you fool the world that you're dead."

"No, they didn't."

"What?"

"They didn't agree. They wanted to use me for publicity. For their show. They didn't quite have the network convinced to sign them yet, so Mom wanted to use my face to-"

I stop again, definitely having said too much. I suppose it was probably obvious by the ski mask that something unfortunate had happened to my face, but she doesn't need to know how bad it is.

"Then why are they helping you?"

"I'm blackmailing them."

"Oh," she says, and finally looks away from me.

An awkward silence follows. I thought telling the truth about a secret you've been keeping was supposed to make you feel better, but I don't. I feel worse.

"They did use your face to get their show," she says abruptly.

"What?" I ask, horrified.

"Your picture was everywhere. Your military portrait was on the news, in magazines, newspapers, even some talk shows. Your funeral was the first episode of their TV show. I remember thinking that was kind of sick, to use a real person's funeral as a pilot episode for a reality show."

She looks at me again and squints a little as she studies my face. I squirm.

"I still don't remember what your picture looked like. I just remember a hat and a flag in the background."