26

Inside the Walls

The knife softly thuds into the large, circular cross-section of the old tree used for target
practice, and I stretch my arm while massaging my shoulder with my other hand. I’ve spent too
much time throwing with my right and not enough practicing with my left.
Yanking my knife free from the stump, I realize that almost everyone else has left the
training yard for the day. As usual, it’s only Kowizaki and I still left here. Taking a deep breath
of crisp December air, I note once more how unusually warm it is for this time of year. After all
this time, there’s still something inside me that can’t accept the fact that it’s late December and
there’s still been no snow or freezing temperatures. The wind has kept up, chilling us every
now and then, but other than the occasional frost in the morning light, there’s been no sign of
winter, and the thermometers all across the town typically hover between thirty-seven and fifty
degrees all day and all night.
Still, if the weirdest thing these past three months in Ashborne has been the weather, I
can’t complain. It certainly isn’t uncomfortable by any stretch. What’s uncomfortable is when I
go over to the weapon cleaning station to finish up, which is also where Kowizaki is busy
tending to his katana, causing me to acutely feel the absence of mine. As I run my knife,
hatchet, and short sword through the warm water and scrub them with painstaking detail, I
occasionally glance up at him.
Nakazawa Kowizaki is in charge of security and missions outside the walls here at
Ashborne. As his name and weaponry suggest, he is Japanese. Scratch that - he is exceptionally
Japanese, down to being an uber-traditional Samurai. The only improper thing about him is
that he dresses just like the rest of us (only because there are no authentic Samurai clothes in
this part of the world), but everything else about him is as rigid and stale as it can be. He knows
English well enough, but no one would ever criticize how he speaks it for fear he might take off
a limb, or do something equally as ferocious and probably more painful. No one knows exactly
how old he is; most of us just assume he’s immortal and has returned from samsara for the
second time to help humanity survive the mutant apocalypse (the first time was obviously
when he descended from on high to help Yamamoto compose his seminal work Bushido in the
18th century).
He will allow very few the honor of sparring with him except in occasional hand-to-hand
combat, which he seems to excel at more than anyone else here. I haven’t had the chance to
fight him yet, but others keep telling me I should step into the sparring square with him one of
these days since I tend to win more than I lose. He also practices with his katana in the early
morning, afternoon, and evening, and so far I haven’t been impressed. I’ve never seen him use
it in battle in spite of the fact that he carries it literally everywhere. He even goes to the
bathroom with it, and I’m convinced he doesn’t take it off even for showering. That is the
Samurai way, after all.
Apparently, it’s also the Samurai way to be a complete ass to everyone in sight, because
the only time he’ll spare a glance at me is to give me one of his typical glares, and then return
to the task of putting whetstone to blade until it has regained every micrometer of edge it had
before he used it to chop those thick reed mats, yelling like he was amputating his own fingers
for some reason. He always gathers a small crowd of people who are impressed with his
prowess and muscle tone, but I’m not one of them (anymore).
Glaring back at him before leaving for the day, I send him a scowl I can probably get
away with, then head out, amazed anew by his willful lack of social consciousness. And if I’m
able to say that about someone, it must really mean something. It still blows my mind to think
that the most words he’s ever spoken to me were on the day Ines and I were rescued. I
sometimes wonder if he hates me because I lost my own katana to the mutants. The Samurai
belief of the soul of the warrior residing in his sword must carry weight when it comes to my
honor, even though I’m a not Japanese or Samurai and never claimed to be.
“Dude,” I want to tell him. “It’s all gone. All of that is in the past. Get with the
program.” But I’ve never said that to him, partly due to the fact that he’d likely break my face,
and also partly due to my realization that I’m just as happy outside the walls as in. Not
everyone was born to thrive in this era like I was, and living in society again is going to take
some getting used to for all of us.
The adjustment period has weighed less on me since I took the job with the Away Team,
the group of men (and one woman) who are tasked with doing whatever needs to be done
outside of Ashborne’s thick, defensive walls. The walls, by the way, are remarkable in their
construction - there’s a team of eight engineers who do nothing but focus on building and
improving Ashborne’s walls, assisted by the rest of us as needed. They started with a bunch of
old cars stacked on top of each other, and it’s grown into this massive construction of wood,
metal, and adhesive. On my way home from the training ground, I pass the main gate, two sets
of double-doors that run on a pulley system of cables, each one powered by their own
generator. Ashborne has a massive supply of fuel - it’s the primary goal of every away mission
to bring back gasoline and wood, and we do a good job (if I do say so myself). We have an
entire warehouse that only stores gasoline in every size and shape of container imaginable and
it's closely monitored. Although, no one has stolen any gasoline from the warehouse for a long
time, now. It’s so plentiful that no one needs to do it. It’s the only form of communism I’ve
ever known to function probably. Of course, it took the end of the world for that to happen.
The Away Team also goes out to look for survivors and leave signs of Ashborne’s
existence, and those trips take us pretty far outside the walls. The most we’ve ever spent out
there is four days - two going out and two going back. I’m told the record is six, and that was
the trip that got the big orange sign out to the shopping center where Ines and I first found out
about this place. They showed me on one of their maps where that is in relation to here, and
I’m realizing how slim our chances were of reaching here when we started out.
That’s another thing we’re doing out there: mapping the territory. We’re somewhere in
southern Nebraska (which makes the weather patterns here even stranger), and we’ve been
slowly expanding our knowledge of the area. Although, as Kowizaki said in a recent meeting
with Ashborne leadership, staking out a claim on maps is useless if we can’t reliably patrol all of
the territory, and that’s impossible right now. Ashborne encompasses some four square miles
of land, which is tiny compared to a real city or town, and we barely have enough security and
weapons to protect it, let alone anyplace outside the walls.
That’s why Denzel said that we have to think of it not as our land, but the land outside
our borders we need to know about. Denzel Spence is the leader here in Ashborne, and he
does a good job of it. Or, at least he does his best. He’s already got some grey hair, and he’s
only in his late thirties. He used to be some kind of high school teacher (like I almost was), not
sure which subject. Whatever it was, he taught in a pretty hard-core area, and he doesn’t take
a lot of crap from people. But he’s fair, and he wants everyone to do well. Those traits put
together make him a good leader for Ashborne. There are only two people in this entire town
besides Ines that I would say I’m close to trusting, and Denzel is one of them.
The other one is waiting for me on his front porch on the way home as the sun goes
down.
“Matt!” Adam calls, beckoning me over to where he sits in front of his abode, rocking
back and forth in a rocking chair. He offers me a cold glass of homemade lemonade to
compliment his own, and I sit beside him in the other identical rocking chair on the porch.
“You ‘bout done?” he asks, his wide smile contrasting with his dark skin, which seems
even darker in the dimming light.
I grin. Adam Young never misses a chance to infer (or outright say) that I’m an
overachiever in something. He likes to pretend he’s lazy, sometimes to the point of actually
acting it out, but he’s honestly one of the hardest-working people in Ashborne. In addition to
being a sniper on the Security Team guarding the front gate, he’s also a fairly handy wood-
craftsman. The two chairs we’re sitting in now are some of his highest-quality work.
“Think so,” I sigh, rubbing my sore shoulder and taking a sip from the glass. I set the
glass on the deck beside my chair and rub the cold condensation around on my calloused
hands. “Thanks for the drink.”
“No prob, man,” he says. “I was hopin’ you’s gonna stop by.”
“You that bored?” I ask.
He laughs and nods. We shoot the breeze for a little bit, and I remark at how similarly
our minds work. We bonded shortly after I arrived when one of the doctors wanted to examine
Ines. Obviously, I was less than thrilled at the prospect, and Adam stepped in to smooth things
over. He helped us get into the house we’re in now, and he backed me up in front of Denzel
when I wanted to join the Away Team. Also, he’s a really good shot, and he’s not shy about it
(but he’s not a jerk like Kowizaki is, either).
“Denzel wants ta pull a guy from Away and put ‘im on Security,” Adam mused.
“Really? Who?”
“Prolly Vili.”
I nod. Vili Mernik, a former Slovenian military man, tough as nails on the outside and
soft as a teddy bear on the inside. He’s all packed with muscles and smiles, and he makes a
great door. It’s a good fit.
“Nat’s not gonna be thrilled, tho,” Adam continues.
I nod again. Natalia Klemenc, Vili’s partner and maybe soon-to-be wife. I remember her
face from the office building when Scar-Face dragged her inside, then later when I cut her loose
from her slimy bonds right before I found Ines. She and Ines have been visiting Doctor Levi
together for the past few weeks.
“Nah, she’ll be fine,” I insist. “She’s stuck here until she delivers anyway, so she might
as well keep him around to help out.”
Adam laughs. “Man, you know she goin’ say she don’t need no man ‘round her
house!”
I laugh, too. “Maybe not, but she will afterward.”
 He chuckles a little at that. “Well, I guess it’s for the best. ‘Spose Denzel don’t want Vili
dyin’ out there and leavin’ his woman with their kid. Someone’d hafta step up and take care’a
them, no matter what Nat wants ta say ‘bout it.”
Adam and I talk a little more, and then I down the lemonade in one big gulp and
continue on home. As much as I appreciate his friendship, I can only handle so much of the
pregnancy topic right now.

--------------------

She’s sitting in the window watching the sunset when I arrive, brushing out her long,
auburn hair. She looks radiant, but I know better than to say that to her out loud. I’m hoping
that my long-held gaze is enough to tell her that instead, but even that is starting to become
too much for her.
When I enter, she stays seated and waves to me. Once I’ve set my gear down from the
day’s activities, I put my hands on her shoulders and lean down, putting my lips to her cheek.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she says back.
I remember the shopping mall fountain because she smells like shampoo, which means
she took a shower not long ago, which means she must have gone to exercise today after
seeing Dr. Levi. Maybe she and Nat went together.
“How was the doctor’s today?” I ask.
She shrugs. Other than a few small details, she hasn’t relayed much to me about what
her visits to him entail. I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it, so I haven’t said anything for
the past few months, other than the logistics. New clothes, her sore back, the aches and pains.
The nausea passed quickly, much more quickly than expected. She was also showing very
soon. I haven’t spoken to Dr. Levi, but I’ve done some reading in the main hall where the
library is housed, and I’ve worked a few numbers. If my math is correct, she’ll deliver three
months sooner than normal. Natalia, too.
Having never been a father in any sense of the word, there’s no preexisting schema for
this wave of emotions I’ve been suppressing for the past several weeks. But even in the midst
of that, one sensation is prominent above all the rest: I’m terrified. In fact, I’m more terrified
about this than everything else we’ve been through so far. The anxiety of having to watch Ines
go through with this dwarfs the throat-clutching horror I felt when she was taken by Scar-Face
from the mall. It’s all I can do to have a simple conversation with her when that rears its ugly
head, so I do what I do best - I ignore it and move on to something else.
“I’ll get dinner started,” comes out of my mouth. Ines grabs my arm.
“No, you go take a shower,” she replies, rising from the chair. “You smell awful. I can
start dinner.”
I muster a grin and head into the tiny room to do as she suggests. The whole bathroom
is a single unit. The sink and toilet are crammed next to each other inside the shower. It’s
amazing how little difference that genuinely makes to someone living in this era compared to
before, and I can appreciate the efficiency. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t tried to use all three
utilities at the same time, and if I said that it worked out as planned. It was interesting trying to
explain that to Ines when Adam had to come over and help me fix the bathroom. He was
straight up with her about my blunder, and she still hasn’t let me get over it.
Changing in the bedroom returns me to the most significant adjustment since we
arrived. As I lay out my armor and remove my utility belt, the conspicuous absence of my
weaponry takes my anxiety to the next level. We’re required to leave all weapons in the
capable hands of the head of security, the illustrious Kowizaki, when we’re not on duty or in the
practice ring. I argued the point with Adam, who was far more patient with me than I was with
him, but Adam was determined to enforce that edict, and not all enthusiastic about going
against Kowizaki. So I had to give up my guns, as it were. Literally, my guns are in a storehouse
only accessible by the Security and Away teams, and only under Kowizaki’s direct supervision.
He lives there. Figures. The only thing we’re allowed to keep with us in our homes is knives. I
have several, but for me, it isn’t enough.
By her own admission, Ines was never very good at food preparation, but she’s been
determined to become at least mildly capable at it since we came here. It seems to help calm
her down; maybe it was advice she got from Dr. Levi. I haven’t asked about that, either. All I
can do is work against my own nature and be encouraging when she makes the effort. Taking
my seat at the small, two-person table in our cozy kitchen, thanking her for making the carefully
portioned helpings of juicy venison and homegrown vegetables is becoming a little less forced.
To think that less than half a year ago, a meal like this would have only existed in our dreams!
As we eat, we have what passes for mealtime banter.
“So, Denzel is prolly going to take Vili off the Away Team and put him on Security.”
Ines chides me for talking with my mouth full.
“Nat won’t like that,” she says, grinning just a little.
“I know,” I chuckle. “I’ll try to remember to rub it in the next time I see her.”
She smiles a wan smile and looks at her food, slowly bringing up another piece of
venison to her lips. It pauses before passing through, and she chews it deliberately. I stare at
her, watching her eat.
“Whatcha thinking about?” I ask.
She comes out of a daze and looks up at me. “Hmm?”
“What are you thinking about?” I repeat a little more slowly. “You were zoning out
there for a minute.”
“Oh…” she hums. Her eyes hover absently over her plate. “It’s nothing.”
I take off a chunk of my own food and eat it with gusto. “It tastes delicious,” I tell her a
second time.
She smiles that soft, sad smile again and pushes her food around with her fork.
“It’s okay,” she counters. “I’ve made better.”
It’s strange to hear such a lack of self-confidence come out of the usual boisterous
mouth, but before I can argue back, her chest heaves like she’s about to vomit, and she
flinches. Her fork clinks on the floor; her fingers grip the sides of the table tightly.
“Ines!” I gasp, jumping out of my chair.
She lifts a hand and wards me away.
“No,” she pants, searching for words and breath. “I am fine. It’s...it’s the baby.”
Her head slowly tilts up so that I can see her reddened face. We lock eyes for the
briefest of moments, but then she looks away.
 “I...it doesn’t like the food…” she mumbles.
We both sit in silence. Once again, I try to think of something to say; I’m desperate for
something to say, just like after we escaped the office building, but I’m not sure what. I keep
my mouth shut. In the end, it will be just one more moment where I wish I had done things
differently, that I had known what to say. But the words just aren’t there, so I keep the deep-
welling terror and anxiety I’ve been feeling to myself.
The moment takes forever to pass - every single detail is excruciating. Our feet shuffle
on the floor. She reaches down and picks up her fork; the metal utensil makes a soft plink on
her plate when she slowly picks it up and sets it down. My breathing is deathly silent, but she
takes in a deep breath audibly and makes greater effort to force a genuine smile through.
“You eat,” she says. “I’m not hungry, and I want to tell you about my day.”
Consciously, I swallow the venison. Ines seems to completely push the awkwardness
aside, like doing so will make me forget about it, too.
“I went to the library and found several books. I got a few for you - they’re in the
bedroom by your side of the bed, I hope you like them - and then I went to…”
She continues, and I try to listen. It takes every ounce of effort to sit there and pretend
like this. Chewing is laborious. I have no appetite, but she spent time and energy on this, so I
can’t just let it go to waste. Besides, if I only ate food when I felt like it these days, I would have
starved to death by now. She tells about all of the places in Ashborne she went - library,
market, Natalia’s house, Dr. Levi’s. That last one she mentions only in passing (“...and after my
checkup at the doctor’s, I came home, and…”), and I’m grateful. If she had dwelt even for a
second on any details, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up the charade.
Dinner can’t end quickly enough. I wolf down the now tasteless morsels, and Ines
remarks with her trademark sass how much of a pig I am, how living in Ashborne is fated to
turn me into a fat blob that can’t get out of bed.
“But,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes and a coy smile at the corner of her
mouth. “We can stay in bed as long as we like, can’t we?”
I grin back, but we both know better. The only thing we’ve done in bed together so far
is sleep. I’ve thought about more, and I know she has also (she makes suggestive comments
constantly), but after Scar-Face...neither of us seems to know how.
Maybe...maybe after...after the birth…
I can’t think about it, which puts an end to the conversation. Looks like it’s time for
bed.
My nightmares are the usual, so at least it’s predictable.

--------------------

The meeting I’m going to with Denzel Spence today is apparently what happens with
every resident of Ashborne at their three-month mark, so I’m told not to be nervous. It’s really
only a formality, but Denzel insists on having a rapport with every member of the community
he’s been elected to lead.
There’s an away mission today, and it’s supposedly a bit of a trek, but it’s to a place I’ve
been before, so Kowizaki is taking the team out ahead of me, and I’ll catch up on my own
later. That wasn’t a decision made lightly; usually, no one is allowed outside the wall alone, but
I’ll have a long-range radio on me (like always), and everyone else on the team except Kowizaki
seems to trust that I can handle myself alone out there. They’re not wrong, and it’s nice to be
taken seriously, even if not by everyone.
Although, Kowizaki leads the team with his iron fist (which is prepared to commit
Seppuku at any time), so if he didn’t at least tacitly agree, there’s no way he would let it
happen. I suppose he just didn’t want to seem like he was attributing any positive qualities to
me on the outside, so he sighed through his nose and told the team it would be okay just this
once. He also told me to try not to die, but the way he said it showed that it was clearly more
because he thinks I’m weak and bound to get into trouble than because he is worried for my
safety.
When I get to the communal building (which has been affectionately dubbed the
Center), I’m once again struck by how inventive it really is. They’ve recreated all of the
advantages of modern living without most of the surface visuals. The main section is a local
neighborhood square station that’s been added onto since Ashborne was founded a year and a
half ago, and other than the wall that surrounds the town, the highest-quality materials and
efforts are invested into making this place better. The wooden supports are secure, electricity
flows through wiring insulated and fastened out of the way, and where curtains once hung for
separation, now sheet metal walls provide a modicum of privacy, even if listening through them
is extremely easy.
Other than the main warehouse and doctor’s office, every group has their own spot in
this town center. Kowizaki runs both the Security Team and the Away Team out of two
adjacent rooms. All town meetings, meals, and important items of business take place in the
large multifunction room. Food prep happens in a long, narrow lane in the back, and the crew
of mostly women that runs it is one of the most strict and dependable groups I’ve ever seen in
any industry, in some ways even more professional and on-the-ball than Kowizaki’s teams.
I wave to Jace, the older, white-haired gentleman who works non-stop to keep the
Center clean and tidy, and then make my way around where he’s already mopped over to
Denzel’s office. It’s not bad as far as offices go around here. He’s taken most of the furniture
from his house down the road and relocated it here since this is where he spends all of his
time.
Denzel sees me coming and motions for me to come through the always-open door and
sit in the plush, red-leader chair beside his desk as he types away at his laptop. It feels strange
to see the device here, and it’s one of only three or four devices of its kind outside of Dr. Levi’s
building, but Denzel has a system that keeps all his work organized, a mixture of pencil/paper
and his laptop.
He taps the ‘Enter’ key and sighs, leaning back and stretching, looking as common as
ever. His loose button-up shirt that is almost never actually buttoned drapes over the thin tee
underneath, and I’m almost envious of his old, worn jeans (they’d never fit me, though - he’s
barely five-six). He scratches at the ever-present three-day scruff on his face and runs his hands
through a tattered mess of hair, looking almost like a haggard evil genius whose plans for world
domination are about to tip over the edge of a cliff, and then he grins at me.
“How are you, Matt?” he asks, leaning forward to shake my hand before I take my
seat. I grip his hand firmly and settle in.
 “I’m good,” comes out of my mouth, even with all that’s swirling around in my gut. He
doesn’t seem to notice, but he is watching me.
“Good to hear. Just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re adjusting to our cozy
little kingdom here.”
“I’m doing fine,” I tell him. I’m not sure what else there is to say. Making casual
conversation like this isn’t really my thing. Is this what it was like coming home from school at
fifteen and being forced to talk to mom and dad about my day? I can’t remember.
“Are you satisfied with your position on the Away Team, or should we look at putting
you somewhere else?”
“No!” I remark, a little suddenly and too strongly. Denzel seems only slightly surprised.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to switch jobs,” he says with a smile. “You’re very suited
for away missions.”
When I do nothing but grin slightly, he adds, “Some of the others are telling me you
enjoy being out there.”
I shrug. “I guess I do.”
He eyes me with interest. “That’s fascinating,” he says. “You mind if I ask why? No
judgement - I’m just curious.”
It takes a second for me to figure out how to answer that question.
“Well…maybe I was made for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I was born to live in this type of world.”
Denzel gazes at me, deep in contemplation. “Hmmm...that’s a good guess. I can’t deny
the help you’ve been these past few months. A lot of the people here want nothing to do with
whatever’s outside the walls. But ever since you showed up, our Away Team is bolder and has
gotten a lot done. I appreciate everything you’ve done, by the way.”
I shrug again, a little more at ease. “I mean, I haven’t done all that much, and I haven’t
done any of it by myself.”
Denzel flashes one of his charismatic smiles again. “Good answer! I didn’t peg you for a
team player, but I guess I was wrong.”
“I don’t know about that,” I counter. “At least, not yet. I’m still getting used to being
back with people again.”
“That always happens,” he says reassuringly. “Do you feel like it’s taking you longer
than it should?”
“I don’t know how long it should take,” I reply. “But if being a little uncomfortable
inside the walls makes me better at what I do outside, then maybe staying on the Away Team is
the right place for me.”
“I said the exact same thing to Nakazawa!” Denzel exclaims. “Using almost those same
words, even.”
“I’m sure he was thrilled,” I mutter.
“Do you get along with him?” Denzel asks, hearing the disparaging note of my
response.
“I’m...not sure. I’m fine, but I don’t think he likes me very much.”
Denzel laughs. “Matt, I don’t know if Nakazawa likes anyone very much. He’s about as
hardcore as they come. Trust me, I know him better than anyone else here, and I’m still
nervous around him sometimes. I never know how to act when he’s giving orders...you know
how he is when he gets going.”
“That’s probably the only thing about him that I find comfortable,” I say.
“That makes sense,” Denzel grins. “You’re a soldier, a warrior. You’re a very black-and-
white kind of guy.”
I nod.
“So, all that to ask, do you feel like you belong here in Ashborne yet?”
Again, another question I don’t know how to answer at first. How should it feel to
belong here? Denzel sees my hesitation, and he helps me along.
“Any worthwhile connections yet?”
Immediately, the smiling face and the taste of lemonade flashes into my mind.
“Adam,” I say without hesitation. “He’s been great.”
“He was the first person you met from here, wasn’t he?”
“Yep. We grab grub together sometimes. He makes a kickass glass of lemonade.”
“Are you and Vili getting along?”
“Sure. I don’t know him as well as Adam, but give it a bit of time and I’m pretty sure we
could be friends.”
“Good. Vili is a close friend of mine, as well. You two will get along wonderfully. How
about Doctor Levi?”
Suddenly, a red flare goes off in my brain and I don’t quite know why.
“Actually...I’ve hardly spoken to him. I think the last time we talked was...well, I saw
him in passing the last time we came back from an away mission, the one where Owen almost
lost those three fingers.”
Denzel reclines in his chair, his interested eyes still searching me. “I’m surprised by
that,” he admits. “I would think you and he would interact substantially more, what with Ines
so far along and how often she sees him. Vili always goes with Natalia to her checkups.”
“I...I’ve never been with Ines,” I say, suddenly realizing it. “I’m always busy. Her
checkups are always scheduled during my work hours.”
“Really?” Denzel says, surprised. “Does that bother you?”
I shake my head. “No. To be honest, just the subject makes me a little nervous.”
It’s then that I realize that I’ve become very relaxed with Denzel, and I need to be
extremely cautious about what I say here. The only time Ines and I spoke about this subject
overtly was the day we were brought in. She told me she was scared they would find out who
the father of the baby is, and we both silently agreed that we would never reveal it. I can’t
imagine how she’s kept it from Doctor Levi this whole time, unless…
...no, she would have told me if he had found out. Unless she doesn’t know, in which
case…
...this meeting could be a setup.
Denzel shows no hint of hostility and no ounce of suspicion. That’s typical of
charismatic sociopaths, who are masters at manipulating others to get what they want.
What am I thinking?! This is Denzel, the man who took us in, who leads Ashborne. Why
am I being this way? Why can’t I just live inside the walls?
“Sorry…” I tell him. “Yeah, it makes me nervous.”
 He nods understandingly. “I know. Being a father is not a small thing, especially in the
world we have today.”
My heart thunders in my ears. “You can say that again.”
He leans forward cautiously. “Not to pry, but how are you two doing? You
are...together...unless I’m mistaken…”
“No,” I say. “We’re together.”
“Are you married?”
“No. Not...I mean, I guess not yet, anyway.”
“You see that in your future?”
Do I? After the birth...do I? I never considered that. I never considered leaving her,
that much is clear to me (and to her, too, I hope). But marriage? Is that in the cards for us?
“I would assume so,” I tell Denzel. “Eventually.”
He chuckles, but it quickly turns sour. “Well, we don’t have a pastor here at the
moment…”
“I heard about Reverend Clarke,” I tell him, referencing a horrible event that took place
only weeks before Ines and I arrived. Apparently, the funeral was held the day before the Away
Team found us.
“He was...he was a good man…” Denzel sighs, his face contorting with internal pain.
He pulls himself out of his sorrow and gives me a forced smile. “I’d like to think that
with you here, something like that is less likely to happen again.”
There’s a moment of silence between us filled with emotion, and then he asks the last
thing on his mind before wrapping things up.
“Is there anything I can do to make your place here more satisfying and fulfilling?”
I was hoping he would ask that, and I knew the moment I heard about this meeting
what I would say.
“I’d like my weapons back, please,” I tell him.
He laughs, maybe a little too much, but it’s probably because he knew that was going to
come up (that’s probably why he saved it for last).
“Matt, you’re going to be one of my favorite people here, I can tell,” he hums as he slaps
the armrest of his chair. “Look, you’ve had this talk with Adam and with Nakazawa, but I’ll tell
you what - I’ll talk with Nakazawa about it at our morning briefing tomorrow and we’ll see if we
can reach some sort of compromise. That’s his biggest rule, and he’s a stickler for the rules (not
that I blame him), but I’d be willing to play the negotiator and work something out between the
both of you. Sound fair?”
“More than fair,” I say, standing and shaking his hand.
“And while I’m at it,” he adds. “I’ll ask him about scheduling you in some time to go
with Ines to her checkups. Or maybe I can talk that over with Uriel - excuse me, with Doctor
Levi.”
“Thank-you, sir,” I tell him, the ‘sir’ coming out reflexively. I guess I really am a soldier.
“No, sir’s here, Matt,” he tells me in all seriousness. “It’s ‘Denzel’. I’m no one’s boss, at
least not by choice.”
“Right. Thank-you, Denzel.”
“My pleasure, Matt. Now I think you’ve got a mission, am I right?”
 “Yep,” I say, uplifted in mood and mind at the prospect of donning my gear and getting
outside the walls.
“Well, be careful,” he says while walking me out of the Center. “You know better than
most how dangerous it is out there. I mean this when I say it to everyone, but with you right
now, I think I mean it a little more: I’d really hate to lose you.”
I chuckle. “I’ll be careful. Like I said, I was born to be out there.”
“I don’t doubt it. See you later, Matt, and godspeed.”