NOVEL NEXT Chapter 135: Secondary Location
––––––
Hiram: Sometimes I despair of your brother. We were so alike when he was young.
Claire: Maybe he got something from his mom, too—how did you two communicate?
Hiram: A valid thought. But then, you always were my most perceptive daughter.
––––––
November 29th, 2090, about 8:45 pm MST, Montana City
"Where am I?" she asked.
She was lying on a bundled hoodie, sideways in a warm lap, soft hands stroking her hair.
"This is the 'secondary location' they warn people about," Claire answered. "But we're closed today, so instead you get a sub sandwich and I've called an EMT."
"What?"
"You fell—apparently. Hi, I'm Claire, your best friend. You're safe, but you've been in an accident."
"No, I'm sure I'm fine," argued Karen. She paused with a wince when she tried to roll over and settled for looking at Claire sideways. "You have pretty eyebrows."
"Yeah, yeah," scoffed Claire. "You couldn't count my fingers a minute ago, so you're to wait for the nice gentlemen with the stethoscopes."
Karen processed this. She considered the sub sandwich. It had banana peppers and olives on it.
"You shouldn't feed people who might have surgery," Karen argued half-heartedly.
"You won't," Claire replied confidently, rolling her eyes but clearly not unaffected. "But your sugar's about to crash in, like. . . two minutes. So eat." She paused, lowering her voice just slightly. "Unless you want to pass out again and miss your chance to flirt with the EMTs."
Karen considered it. "I think . . . I feel too sick." She rolled upright, still strong, but achingly sore. The world spun a bit.
Claire caught her arm, steadying her. "One bite. I'll bring you all the guys you want."
Karen took a bite of Claire's pristine double-meat Italian sub. Claire visibly pushed away the sense of loss over her sandwich as frivolous. After all, this was an emergency. "Now another."
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The bite stuck for a second in her throat. She swallowed anyway.
"Where's Gordon?" Karen whimpered. She didn't mean to; it just came out that way. Claire winced. "Playing hero."
Karen blinked, trying to process that, but her confusion must have bled through. "I. . . don't understand," she admitted, her brow furrowing. It felt like the world had tilted and left her unsteady. She settled into a cross-legged sit, and felt the warm hoodie being draped over her shoulders. It smelled like Claire.
Claire sat facing her and sighed, her fingers twitching at her sides. "He's running off to deal with . . . the bad guys. Apparently, watching you get hurt was his breaking point."
Karen felt her eyes widen slightly, and her breath hitched. "He was chasing me," Karen murmured, her voice trembling. "I didn't even know why. I didn't mean for it to get. . . like that."
"I know," Claire said gently. "And you got away, which is what matters. But Gordon's gone to 'deal with' it because, apparently, breaking someone's leg wasn't enough retribution for him."
"Why? He doesn't need to—he doesn't—" She broke off, her voice cracking as she shook her head weakly. Her hair was tangled with leaves and twigs and stuff. She started picking at it, but her hands were trembling.
Claire's hand found her shoulder—warm, firm, not letting her drift. Karen didn't pull away. "Hey. It's okay. He's impulsive, not stupid. I am worried about what he'll do—but I'm sure he'll be okay." She paused, her voice softening. "But right now, I need you to take one more bite for me. Just one more. Then we'll deal with everything else."
Karen hesitated, her lips pressing together before she reclaimed the sandwich and took another bite. Claire exhaled slowly, watching her friend with a mix of relief and quiet worry.
"I've already checked—we have the video," said Claire. She hesitated. Karen could tell she was searching for an alternate phrasing, but apparently, there was just no easy way to put it. "Unfortunately, so does the internet at large. You're. . . the woman of the hour."
"Security camera," Claire explained. Claire eyed the sandwich again and visibly gave in. She took a bite herself, moaning involuntarily at the garlic aoli, oil and vinegar, spinach and pepperoni—but focused quickly. "Sorry, I'm going to need to order another . . . four of these on the way home."
"I'm famous?"
"You already were, but now everybody knows your in-game matrix moves are something you can and will do in real life. You're something of a feminist icon."
"Oh."
"Security footage. Public domain now, unfortunately."
Karen digested that, and the sandwich, for a moment. Aioli dripped down her chin and Claire thumbed it away expertly.
"I don't want them to see me as a victim," Karen said quietly. She was becoming aware of the cold of the wind again. She shivered.
"Good thing then. They don't. The guy had a hundred pounds on you and left in a stretcher."
"I don't really like that, either—"
"—good, but it's better than it could have been. Could have been you."
Karen stiffened. "If the guy who hit me is on a stretcher, what the hell is Gordon doing?"
Claire's smile faded. "Nipping the problem in the bud."