Free Havoc - v4 by Jack du Brul Page B

“That’s exactly the alternative I’m talking about.”
    But in a way, Harry had a point, and his words had stuck. Mercer did soldier on. Maybe what he’d seen and done in his life clouded his once crystalline beliefs, forced him to search through the shades of gray, but the core was still there, the ability to find the good amid the rotten, and hold on to it while the rest eroded with time.
    He sensed that Cali worked the same way. In a week or a month she’d look back and recall an episode from her trip, maybe their profanity-laden struggle to load twenty-seven damp sheep into the truck, and she would smile. That would also bring back the panic she’d felt in the village and the smile would fade, but so too would the intensity of that fear. In six months or a year she’d still smile at the sheep and maintain just a vague unease about the rest.
    In order to do all that, she needed distance, distance from Africa and distance from Mercer. He understood, and as she waited with him at the US Airways counter, they exchanged phone numbers and made indeterminate plans to stay in touch. Both knew they wouldn’t; however, there was comfort in the ritual.
    “Well, good luck with your search,” Cali said stiffly.
    “And I’m sorry about yours.” She shot him a puzzled look. “Your cancer research. It had sounded promising.”
    “Oh. I think I got carried away when I first read about that village and ignored the number one rule in medical research. There are no shortcuts.”
    “Where will you go next?”
    “That’s up to the CDC. Though I won’t be putting in for any new assignments for a while. I think I’ll stick to a desk until…” Her voice trailed off.
    Mercer took both her hands, made sure she was looking into his eyes, then leaned in and kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth. It was perhaps a bit more intimate than he intended, but he had to feel the texture of her full lips, if even just a sliver. They were softer than he’d imagined. “Good luck, Cali Stowe.”
    “Good luck, oh my God, I can’t remember your first name. I’ve just been calling you Mercer.”
    “Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Everyone does.”
    Their eyes remained locked, steady. He held on to her strong fingers a moment longer, and she let him. Both knew this was the last they’d see of each other. It was awkward, but charmingly so. Had they met at another time, in another place, they’d have been making plans for a date, not saying good-bye forever.
    Just before he released her, Cali impulsively returned his kiss. Her lips didn’t linger and she turned, her red hair flaring, catching sunlight and reflecting back like spun copper. “Good-bye.”
    She was swallowed immediately by the throng of commuters and tourists.
    A few moments later an elderly woman in line behind Mercer tapped his elbow. Her hair was a white bush, her eyes blue and friendly. “It’s none of my business but I think you should go after her, young man.”
    Mercer looked to where Cali had vanished. “I think you’re probably right, but such is life.”
    “Yes, I suppose. Making mistakes is how we learn.”
    Mercer smiled at her. “You think I’m making a mistake letting her go?”
    “Only you can answer that.” She pointed. “There’s a spot open at the counter.”
    Mercer grabbed the bag he’d bought in Lagos containing Chester Bowie’s canteen and the mashed bullet the old woman in the village had shown him. He took one step toward the counter, then turned suddenly. “Thank you, ma’am, you go ahead.”
    He dashed out of line. He moved quickly through the terminal, hoping to spot the flash of Cali’s hair above the crowd. Already he was composing what he’d say to her. “This is stupid. I think we’re attracted to each other and I don’t think it’s right that circumstance should bring us together only to force us apart. I know you want to put everything behind you, I do too, but I also think one date wouldn’t kill us. I can be