“You’re a bit skinny, do you know that?” he asks me as I attempt push-ups. “Do you eat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll need to eat more. Build muscle mass, but not too much. You must retain your natural figure. And you’ll need to join sports at school. That way, I know you’re exercising when you’re not with me.”
“Yes, sir,” I pant, about to drop. My arms tremble from the strain.
“Don’t call me sir,” he says. “That’s for the military, and I’m no military man. Anymore.”
My body collapses on the cement. I can sense Witt’s eyes on me.
“Why do you want to do this?”
I do not want to explain my reasoning for choosing to be the harbinger of death. This is how I now see myself after the long talk Dad and I had, and I like the sound of it. I give Witt the same answer I gave my new family.
“To be safe and get your power back?” he scoffs. “You don’t have to endure this training to be safe. You are a Knight now. That’s as safe as you can get. You’re safer than the goddamn royals! And being told when and where to dispatch people is not very powerful, if you ask me.”
I sneak a look at him. “I need to make myself safe, and I want to dispatch.” That’s all I say. Luckily Witt accepts the answer, and we move on.
“I am your trainer and will be your team lead when you become part of Dispatch,” Witt explains, giving me a tour of the facilities. “Network is the eye in the sky who watches your back when you’re out there. I’m in Network, and that means I have your back. We must learn to trust each other more than anything else. You, me, and the rest of the team.” He frowns. “It’ll take them some time to get used to you, as you will be the youngest team member—if you make the team, that is. I’ll teach you everything I know. And shit I don’t.”
His voice is heavy with accent, but it won’t be until months later that I learn Witt is from Rwanda and experienced the genocide of the Hutu, and he wasn’t one of the good guys. I will not hold Witt’s past against him, because in this present, he is good to me, and he is my teacher. Plus, I learn he has atoned tenfold for what he did in Rwanda, and that speaks volumes.
For the remainder of my years in school and university, I do as I am told, joining the soccer team, where I learn stamina and increase my leg strength and endurance. I do not enjoy being on a team, but I do enjoy the thrill of winning games. And I learn how to be on a different kind of team.
“You are on the soccer team to develop passable social skills, Nena,” Witt tells me. “You can’t only talk to your dad, mum, sister, and me all the time.”
“But I don’t like anyone else,” I answer, doing my last round of burpees. “I barely like you as it is.”
“Now, that is a goddamn lie.” Witt smirks, handing me rope for me to jump. “Dear girl, you’ll pay for that comment.”
57
AFTER
It was hard to believe the woman staring back at Nena was her and that she was going out like a normal thirtysomething woman. It wasn’t like when she had to dress up for work. Those were uniforms, part of a mirage. Tonight was for her. And yes, Cort too.
A sudden surge of embarrassment hit her that she was giddy with her first boyfriend—if she could call Cort that at her age. And she felt some guilt, too, that she was excited about going out when she should be with her mum, ensuring her dad stayed on his slow but steady path to recovery after he’d regained consciousness. The doctors were still puzzled about what had made him ill, and the only person who knew was Paul, not that she’d ever ask.
She shouldn’t be feeling like a schoolgirl, worried if Cort would see her as woman enough. Did she want him to? Did she have what it took to be someone’s lover? Would she even like it? Up until this point, the only feelings Nena associated with sex were pain and shame. She looked down at her hands, at her perfectly polished nails. These hands had done things no other woman Cort knew would do. These hands had killed. Could these hands love?
She’d spent her adult life accepting the idea she would never love a man, not in that way. Never again have sex because she wanted it. The thought of intimacy had always repulsed her. But since Cort, the revulsion had grown less and less. The thought had become not so unimaginable.
She was curious about what that life was like, the one where she could give herself to someone and them to her. A life that was beyond the strict and regimented one in which she cocooned herself. The thought was both scary and exciting. Nena was still trying to decide which was stronger when Elin appeared behind her in the doorway of her guest room, which no one used because Elin was not into overnight guests.