Free Fog by Annelie Wendeberg Page A

take them down quickly without any problem. But they’ve wiped Taiwan clean, it seems. The question is: have part of their original forces left or is everyone still here? The latter is more likely, I think. Considering their control over satellites, the fact that they chose this isolated location to set up camp, and the possibility that they might turn this into their headquarters, I wonder if reinforcements are on the way. I need to know if there are any movements at sea or land that would indicate a plan to strengthen their position here. And I have to know what the Chinese satellite cluster can do, which of their systems was hacked.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It’s a big difference whether someone controls a weather satellite or a cluster of military and espionage satellites.’
    The latter sounds somewhat more dangerous or sophisticated, but I don’t even really know what a weather satellite can do (except tell us when it’s raining, but I can do that by looking up at the sky), or how that one is any different from military satellites. Runner seems tense, worried. I opt for a diversion. ‘Okay. Let’s go for a swim. We have time. We don’t leave until nightfall.’
    He coughs and slams a fist to his chest. ‘Bone,’ he explains and clears his throat violently.
    ‘You are scared. That’s okay. In an hour, you’ll love it. I promise.’
    ‘You are overly convinced of yourself.’ He stands, throws the chestnuts into the embers, and shovels handfuls of dirt on top.
    ‘One has to know one’s own qualities.’ I grin.
    He frowns at me, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Okay, let’s go then.’ A casual and light remark. I know he’s faking it.
    When we arrive at the pool, he takes off his pants and shirt, and stands there with only his shorts hugging his hips. I realise with shock that I didn’t think it all through to the end. Staring at Runner, I can’t help but count the battle scars. There’s one on his shoulder that looks like a bullet passed through it a few years ago. The scar on his neck is still thick and the blackish tint won’t ever go away. That’s where the wild dog mauled him. There’s another one just above the hipbone, right where… Shit, the whole man is made of raw physical power; the muscular edge curving along the top of his hipbones has nothing of the gently sloping contours of Yi-Ting’s body.
    My stomach cramps. He squints at me in puzzlement and I begin to stutter, ‘Um…stupid idea. You are…you can drown the two of us. All that’s needed is a little panic and…’
    ‘Micka—’
    ‘I mean…if I were to panic, I could drown you if you are not prepared. You know, fear of death makes everyone strong as an ox. See this?’ I wave my hand at him. He looks down at himself and shrugs, as if the rippling of stomach muscles is totally harmless. ‘Dude, I’ll never get a good grip on you if you are about to drown and panic and then—’
    ‘I won’t panic.’
    Of course he will! Or I will. A growl thrums in my chest. Shit. No excuses left. I look down at my pants and fumble with the waistband. My fingers quiver.
    ‘I, too, have scars,’ he says softly and I remember that he knows I’m a cutter. He’s even seen the 1/2986 carved into my lower arm.
    ‘Yeah, but you are…’ I bite my tongue. I was about to blurt out “beautiful.” That’d be so awkward that I’d dig myself a hole.
    ‘You are, too,’ he says.
    I burst out laughing. This man is nuts.
    He crosses his arms over his chest.  
    Hoping he’ll soon put his shirt back on, I tear my eyes off him and stare up at the treetops. If all fails, I’ll pretend to be annoyed.
    ‘You are a warrior and warriors have scars. Suck it up. Now show me your swimming skills.’
    My cheeks grow hot. I give him a stiff nod and put my hands back to my waistband to pull the strings tighter. I don’t want my pants to slide down when they are wet and heavy.
    Runner grins and shakes his head. ‘I guess I’m supposed to go