“I get that. Really. I’m not lacking confidence in our plans or even my ability to carry out this mission. It’s just Chris. Even if he’s weak, he has been nothing but unpredictable as long as I’ve known him. He’s a lunatic. And do we really think he’s just sitting in that cabin waiting for the time to pass? If I know him, then he’s making plans as well, ready to counter whatever comes his way. Ready to kill.”
“He’s gonna put up a fight. I expect nothing less. This is his very existence at stake, and that of the Keeper of Time status. No one actually knows what happens when the acting Keeper is murdered, but we have teams ready to raid all of his known properties and Revolution offices across the continent to search for those answers. They will literally be barging into those places as soon as we get word that he’s dead, likely during your victory speech.”
“I hadn’t realized that was planned. You’ve covered all our bases once again. I have to know—are there plans in place in case Chris wins this battle?”
Now Alina was the one avoiding eye contact, staring to the curtains enclosing them. “Of course. Not plans you’d like to hear about—no need to pollute your mind with any more doubt.”
“As Commander, I demand you tell me the plans,” Martin said sternly, his turn to glare at the lieutenant.
Alina shifted in her seat, clearly seeking a way out of this conversation, but running into the brick wall of a fact that Martin was indeed the highest-ranking official, and what he said had to be honored. She cleared her throat. “There are two scenarios we have planned for aside from a victory. The first one is an unlikely possibility that both you and Chris end up dead. Should that happen, I’ll become the commander, and Arielle has agreed to be my lieutenant. We will move forward with the rest of the plan after a month-long memorial in your honor.”
“Wow, so you already know how long my funeral will be,” Martin said, forever impressed by the level of planning.
“It won’t come to that, we just have to be prepared for every possibility. The second scenario is one where you die and Chris lives. The plans for that will be to disband the North American Road Runners and allow our members to hide away in a remote location since we won’t be able to offer any sort of protection. We’d be closing the doors on the organization forever.”
Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “You wouldn’t keep fighting? How can that be?”
“Commander, you asked me to lead this mission. I’ve had the late-night meetings with people from every corner of the organization and have run these plans by everyone, including the other commanders and yourself—minus these particulars. The consensus is that this is our final chance to kill Chris. A real chance. We’ve never been this close. Never has a Road Runner sat a couple hundred miles away from Chris, with a real opportunity to take his life. Almost fifty years of existence. If this mission fails, then we believe the organization will fail with it. No more excuses, no more second chances. Just an acceptance of the reality that we’ll never beat Chris at his own game.”
“So you’ll let me die in vain,” Martin said, more to himself. “Interesting. I suppose this isn’t the organization I thought.”
Martin stood as if to leave, but Alina shot her hand out, grabbing his forearm and urging him to sit back down. “Commander, please.”
He paused a moment, locking eyes with her and debating everything from storming out of the curtains, to resigning as commander and running away forever. Begrudgingly, he sat down and crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”
“This isn’t a decision we just threw together for the sake of discussion. It was calculated and considered, even the Council reviewed it and had quite the heated debate. Eventually, everyone involved came to an agreement that should we lose a commander for the second time this year, then we’re probably not meant to stay in operation. Your death would only spark further division and fear, and the organization would likely fizzle away on its own because of it. None of this is ideal, but we felt it was the right decision.”
Martin rubbed his temples. He had always known he was responsible for the lives of millions of Road Runners, but this mission now seemed as direct of a correlation as any, bringing back the grueling sickness to his entire body.
“I didn’t realize any of this—you should have told me. I’d have had a different mindset during these past few weeks. Why wouldn’t you tell me that our very existence depended on this mission?”
Alina shrugged. “I thought that already seemed pretty obvious, and we didn’t want to add any more pressure. We’re well aware of the risk and severity of what we’re asking you.”
Martin shook his head. “I think you’re forgetting. No one asked me to do anything. This mission was my idea, you just figured out the details. I’ve been on board with everything you’ve proposed and will continue to be. Don’t worry about scaring me and be honest, that’s all I want.”
“I will—I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
Martin drew a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth. “This is a lot to process, but I’m ready. I can’t say it’s necessarily changed how nervous I am about going into those woods. I’m going to need to face the music at some point, regardless of how much I drag out the next few hours.”
“You know what the best way to pass time is?” Alina asked, prompting a shrug from Martin. “Conversation. We’ve already been behind this curtain for twenty-five minutes. How about you and I go around the jet
