“Sonya, please. At least let me try to talk my way out of this with everyone outside.”
“I already told you, I’m leaving when I decide it’s time. I don’t need your help running. Did your people even think of the roof? I have exits all over this place, on purpose. You still haven’t told me the rest of the plan, and I need to know before I leave here.”
Martin nodded, conceding this mission, conceding his life. If he made it back to Denver, he had no idea how he’d face the Council or the membership again. Sonya had planted too much doubt about his actual role in the organization. Did the other commanders secretly agree to a pact to get rid of Chris, despite their clear opposition on all their group phone calls? They were the ones who endorsed Martin and ensured him a victory. It had grown clear that the organization as a whole had no problem eliminating one or two members if it guaranteed peace.
“The plan . . .” Martin said, convinced these would be the final words spoken of his storied life. “The plan is to kill you, then kill Chris before he has time to realize you’re gone.”
“Does that mean there are people already waiting for the word of my death?”
Martin shook his head. “Not exactly. I’m supposed to go kill him. I’ve been in contact with an old friend from Europe, Steffan Privvy. He’s going to freeze time for us and allow me to face Chris one-on-one.”
Sonya nodded. “It sounds so simple when you put it like that, but we all know how many factors are out of your control. My life is one. Your life is another. Things have to fall into place so perfectly, and here you are, knocking on the door of your destiny to be the greatest commander in the history of an organization you know nothing about. The world is a beautiful, romantic place, isn’t it? Do you ever think about fate, Martin? Have you ever taken the time to look at the map of your life and see how everything fell perfectly into place to land you where you are today?”
“Sure, sometimes.”
“I do it all the time. Every single day. When I wake up in this shitty apartment, in this shitty year, I wonder, what on Earth brought me here? After I graduated high school I could’ve gone anywhere. Could’ve moved to Australia and started a new life. But I was so sheltered, afraid to take such a wild gamble. And I hated my dad, so when the opportunity arose to join the organization that hates him as much as me, I dove into their open arms. That was my first mistake. But here’s what I’ve realized: they already knew. The Road Runners have a copy of your map, you see. They study lives, see what paths lie ahead for everyone they recruit. They’re patient—always playing the long game. They have to since they can’t match the resources Chris has.
“Once I was inside the Road Runner bubble, my pathway was already set for me without realizing it. I had the impression that I was directing my own life, but they put tracking chips into us, for God’s sake. I wasn’t in control of anything. They always know to set up their pawns for the best position possible to further their agenda. Whoever is calling the shots knew this moment would come, but they can’t account for what will happen in the heat of the moment. What happens if I shoot you? Then there is no one to encounter Chris with time frozen—back to square one. Either way, I don’t make it out of this building alive.”
“Sonya, I can help. Just let me. Please.”
“I’ve recently spent my time looking ahead instead of back, trying to see what lies ahead on my map of life. I don’t see a moment where my life can return to normal. I will always be on the run, always worried about someone trying to shoot me. My life has been reduced to that of a caged animal, but I have no one to blame but myself. Mental awareness will keep you out of unwanted situations, but too many factors play with our emotions to let us see straight.”
Tears flooded from her eyes, the lower half of her face glistening from the moisture. She wiped her nose and lowered the shotgun, not quite letting it go.
Martin still refused to make a movement, not understanding what was happening. “Sonya?”
Her head had dropped toward the floor, tears splashing onto her lap. It was a silent cry, no heaving, not even a tremble in her shoulders. She raised her head, watery eyes falling on Martin. “I’ve seen the hand I’ve been dealt, and I’ve been left no choice. I hope you can forgive me, Martin, but you and I both need to do the right thing. Go take care of business. I love you.”
Sonya flipped the shotgun back up, inserting the muzzle into her mouth.
“NOOOOOO!” Martin jumped from his chair, lunging across the table, the moment coming to a momentary standstill just before Sonya pulled the trigger, her blood and brains decorating the refrigerator and kitchen walls behind her. The shotgun slid in slow motion from her hands, clattering on the floor.
Martin landed on the table, causing it to collapse under his weight, as he crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, his flailing hands brushing Sonya’s dead legs on the way down. He rolled to the side, bumped into the trash can, and hurried to his knees to vomit inside of it.
After hurling his breakfast for a minute, Martin brought himself up on his trembling legs, the room spinning around him as he fought the urge to faint. His radio crackled something inaudible, surely someone on the team having heard the gunshot and demanding an explanation.
He stared across the kitchen to Sonya, her body still
