They returned from the hospital past 10:30 p.m.

  Vicky helped a sore and sedated Adam settle into bed. He managed to stifle his groans and even apologized for being a bother.

  “I promised I’d take care of you,” she said, leaving a lamp on. “I won’t abandon you now.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured, barely managing the words.

  As he lay down on the mattress, exhaustion lifted a heavy weight off him, surrendering him to sleep. The drugs were taking effect. He was still wearing the green tracksuit, torn and dirty from the fight, but he refused to take it off, fearing a wrong move would bring on a surge of pain.

  Vicky snapped her fingers as if remembering something and hurried out of the room.

  Alone, in the darkness and faint light, Adam kept his eyes half-open, waiting for her to return. He heard her rummaging through her bag in the living room. After a while—a span of time he couldn’t tell was a minute or half an hour—Vicky came back with a glass of water and a black pill; her hoop earrings glinted gold in the dim light.

  “The antibiotic?” Adam was disoriented but not completely lost. He fumbled in his pocket and found the small bottle with the medications prescribed by the doctor still there.

  “Drink this,” Vicky said. It was more an order than a request. She placed the black pill in his mouth and, pressing the rim of the glass to his lips, helped him drink.

  “What…?”

  “What is it?” she finished. “Something I saved for an emergency.”

  Adam swallowed the pill.

  “Hey, if my friend Trevor calls… or my friend Kara…” he mumbled, “pleazhe don’t tell them what happened… I don’t wanna worry them, okay?”

  What he really meant to say was: ‘I don’t wanna scare them, or make them think that being close to me might put them at risk of something like this happening to them too, causing them to pull even farther away than they already have—especially Trevor.’ But some things didn’t need to be said out loud; besides, he didn’t want to add emotional pain to his physical wounds by voicing it.

  He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  Twelve hours later, he woke up.

  Vicky had prepared vegetable purée and brought it to the bed.

  Adam ate it in silence and with slow movements; he was unable to really taste anything, so it didn’t matter if it was tasty or not. He drank a lot of water and some fruit juice, then went to the bathroom. Moving caused pain, but he managed.

  Vicky waited outside with a glass of water and the medications.

  He took the antibiotic the doctor had prescribed and also another one of those black pills. Then he lay down and slept for another twelve hours.

  Everything around him moved in slow motion. Vicky was just a blurry silhouette, and her voice sounded distant, as if he were hearing her from underwater. Sometimes he felt warm; other times, cold. He’d look down and find himself in bed wearing the torn tracksuit; he’d close his eyes and reopen them to find himself in his underwear, and then later, in pajamas. When had he changed clothes? Or had Vicky done it for him?

  Vicky, I’m cold, he said—or did he just think it? Did he have a fever?

  Juzo, you’re here.

  I’m here.

  The room spun as if it were on a disc rotating on an invisible axis—a disc that would stop spinning when he closed his eyes. The urge to succumb to unconsciousness was overwhelming; it was the only thing that eased his suffering. In his dreams, the Satellite agents appeared, the doctor who had treated him in the emergency room, Kitty, Vicky, the summons, the days of the week, the bruises, and the pain; the agents again, along with Kitty, Vicky, the summons, the agents, the paramedics, the nature reserve, and then Juzo appeared, along with the A60 and his doppelg?nger—the same one who had startled him in the B-Crush restroom. But his doppelg?nger would put on a mask and become the A60. Everything was so confusing.

  “Broga…” he called him.

  ‘You’re him, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am.’

  “Broga and Brun…” he murmured.

  Vicky, who had come to give him his medication, froze in the doorway, goosebumps rising on her skin and a chill prickling the back of her neck at what she’d just heard.

  “Adam? You okay?”

  He nodded, then, drowsy but with a cheerful smile, pointed toward her face and said, “I’m glad you’re still wearing them, y’know? They cost me a fortune.”

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  Stunned, Vicky raised a hand to her ear and rubbed her earring. “Yeah… Thanks…” was all she could manage to say.

  What else could she have done? Tell him it wasn’t him who had given them to her, but Juzo?

  Adam closed his eyes again, letting his surroundings fade away and his mind drift back into nothingness.

  “So, what are you doing?” he asked Tony. It was daytime, and he was in his office at Homam Enterprises. How? He hadn’t moved. Yet there was Tony, the company’s computer genius from IT Support, working away on his computer.

  “I’m transferring the data from your hard drive to mine,” Tony had replied that time. On the screen, there was a cute animation of a cartoon caterpillar dragging a little box back and forth from one door to another. “It’ll take a few minutes. You’ve got a lot of junk files on your computer, Adam.”

  “It’s those damned malwares, Tony. They clog my system with garbage,” he had defended himself.

  “And those malwares come from the dirty websites you visit, Adam.”

  “Ha! I know, but keep it down, will you? If Trevor hears, he’ll lose it. You know how uptight he is.”

  Tony had continued working, while Adam, as fascinated as a child, kept watching the caterpillar dragging its little box, depositing it at one door, then heading back to the other to grab another box.

  “I’m transferring my data to your main drive,” Tony said.

  But Tony had now turned into Juzo.

  And then…

  “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?”

  At his question, Vicky kicked the sheet off with her feet and turned toward him; her dark hair, slightly messy. She looked beautiful, even just waking up. The soft light from the lamp caressed her bare body; everything else in the room dissolved into darkness.

  “Too fast?” she repeated, brushing her hair out of her face. “Juzo, I didn’t know there was a speed limit on this road. The road of…”

  “Please,” he interrupted, “don’t say the road of love.”

  Vicky frowned in that adorable way only she could manage. “The road of love? Ugh, Juzo! How corny do you think I am? I was going to say the road of understanding.”

  He said nothing. Was sealed lips his answer to everything?

  Vicky climbed on top of him and kissed him. Smooth, tan skin against light, weathered skin covered in coppery hairs.

  “And let me tell you, one night in bed a week,” she said, “is just a tick above zero on the speedometer.”

  Juzo looked into her eyes. “It’s all I can offer for now.”

  “I know,” she said, “I wasn’t complaining. You’ve brought it up three times tonight, though. It’s the kind of question I’d expect from a lovesick teenager, or maybe even Pablo, but not from you.”

  “Great to hear you bringing up your ex,” he sighed.

  She stopped her trail of kisses. “Oh, c’mon, Juzo! Where’s your self-confidence? Don’t tell me it’s just a front you use to lead revolutionaries and charm ex-military types, because I won’t believe it.” She touched his chest. “I know you’re like marble on the inside, hard and kind of…”

  “Cold,” he finished. “Or so you say.”

  “Exactly! So why the sudden flurry of questions? If you’ve got something to say, just say it. You know I hate playing ‘Guess Juzo’s Intentions.’”

  “Vicky, not all of us can talk so easily.”

  “Ugh, Juzo! Why are you always so serious? Look—want to hear a story?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, you’re going to hear it anyway,” she said, sitting up on the bed. “When I met you, I knew there wouldn’t be another man I’d want to be with. I know, I sound like some hopeless romantic, but in that moment, all I could think was, ‘Dear, this guy knows what he wants, how he wants it, and exactly what he’s doing. He’ll keep you safe way more often than he’ll get you into trouble, and for a fresh deserter, that’s a pretty damn good deal.’”

  She paused. “I knew I might be getting myself into a world of trouble. Never once did I stop to ask if you were taken, married, widowed, or gay… or just a complete lunatic like most of the Troublemakers.”

  Juzo couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the description. “Lunatics? Isn’t that a little harsh?”

  “Juzo? C’mon! I’m sorry, I know a lot of them are your friends, but let’s face it—your crew’s full of nutcases,” she smiled. “Like I was saying, all I wanted was to be by your side, and I decided right then I wouldn’t leave until the day I die. I didn’t care if it broke my heart. I know, it’s twisted, and it could’ve turned out way more toxic than I would’ve liked, but that’s how I felt. And as I got to know you better, I realized I wasn’t wrong. Then something incredible happened—you noticed me. You actually took an interest in me. And you know what I realized?”

  Juzo shook his head.

  “I realized I’d never have a normal relationship,” she said. “So, I let go of those last little dreams of starting a family. Not that I ever fantasized about a perfect wedding or anything like that. None of the women in my family ever did. My mom put the Military before her own daughter, and my two cousins are following the same path. Still, it’s nice to have the option of settling down, right? You know, to at least dream about a stable relationship. And not just women dream about that.”

  “No one said they did.”

  “I know, I know…” Vicky made a face, like, ‘You know what I mean.’ “But being with you, I knew I wouldn’t even have that. If my father or Pablo didn’t get in the way, your personality would. You’re the most closed-off person I’ve ever met, and there’s no way you’d ever agree to anything resembling a normal relationship. This…” She gestured between them. “This is me wedging my foot in the door to keep you from locking yourself in that cold little room you love so much—the one that’ll eventually drive you crazy. And who knows? Maybe even to suicide, like what happened to Peter.”

  “Peter was depressed. I’m just a loner,” Juzo said calmly. “There’s a difference.”

  “Juzo, ending your life doesn’t always mean putting a gun to your head. There are slower, quieter ways of letting yourself die.”

  Juzo didn’t nod, but he got her point.

  “So, to answer your question,” she said, “no, we’re not moving too fast. For someone like you, I know this probably feels like a car race, but trust me—it’s not. You just keep running, and I’ll keep driving slow right next to you, so when you get tired, you can hop on without a problem.”

  He chuckled and pulled her into a hug.

  “Damn, you talk a lot,” he said, rolling her onto her back and shifting on top of her.

  “There’s the Juzo I like! Less talking, more doing!”

  Then, Juzo silenced her with a kiss, and they played in bed.

  By accident, they kicked the lamp, knocking it over on the nightstand. The lamp’s light cast a yellowish crater on the wall, splashing them with shadows.

  They laughed and kept tangling in the sheets until they lost themselves in an ocean of darkness.

  “Peter…” Adam whispered, swimming through the darkness. “Peter… Who was Peter?”

  Vicky, who had just handed him the black pill, paused in the doorway, holding a half-full glass of water. She turned back toward him.

  “What?” she asked, her face caught between astonishment and curiosity.

  “Peter,” he repeated, coughing. His mouth felt dry and thick. “Who was Peter?”

  “Peter was Juzo’s father,” she replied. “Well, the man who raised him. He was a… troubled man.”

  “Right, right,” Adam nodded. “I remember now.”

  Of course. How could he have forgotten Peter?

  Wait… had he actually known Peter?

  “You know something?” he added. Vicky shook her head. “I’ve always liked your accent. It’s… cute.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a small smile, then left the room.

  Adam closed his eyes and drifted back into the world of dreams and mingled lives.