Page 109 of Every Which Way

Kenna’s bare feet touched the cold white tile on the floor. It actually felt good on the warm cuts and scrapes. She didn’t think she was bleeding, but she definitely had some abrasions. “Who is he?”

“I suppose you could say he’s my uncle, after a fashion.” Woodford walked to the left side of the bed, scanning the readings on the monitors. “He seems to be doing well today.”

Kenna heard a shuffle, then saw a short, heavyset woman in a maid outfit scurry from a corner. The woman had to be in her sixties. “Yes, Mister Woodford. The doctor say he respond well to the treatment. His body isn’t rejecting the liver.”

“That’s good.” Woodford ran his fingers over the old man’s forehead, then down his cheek. “That’s very good.”

“Whose liver was it?” Kenna spoke before she could stop herself. She bit the inside of her lip.

“Your sister has proven very useful.”

“I am going to kill you,” Kenna said. “Just so you know.”

Woodford actually chuckled. He straightened from leaning over the bed. “You and I are going to form a different kind of bargain.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“I think, in time, you’ll come to see things from my point of view.”

Kenna said, “I highly doubt that.”

What she wasn’t so sure of was their ability to drug her, coerce her around to their thinking, or generally torture her until she broke and did whatever they wanted. But right here and right now, in control of her own mind, she knew what was true—and what she wanted.

Woodford looked from the man in the bed to her. “My uncle is a powerful man whose will holds much sway in our organization.”

“Not so much anymore, by the look of him.”

She heard a slight shuffle behind her. Woodford lifted his hand, and the movement stopped. The man behind her wanted to lash out because she’d spoken disparagingly about the old man in the bed.

Kenna asked, “So who is he? Apart from your uncle.”

“You might call him the Grand Master. Or so I’ve heard that’s how the resistance has taken to referring to him. He raised me.” Woodford glanced affectionately at the man in the hospital bed.

“Sorry for your loss.”

“He is far from dead, I assure you.”

“Because you’re kidnapping people, removing their organs, and putting them in him?” She lifted her chin in the direction of the bed, still holding the coat wrapped closely around her. “All in a futile attempt to prolong his life.”

“It’s far from futile.”

“Instead, you could just kill him and take his position.”

Woodford moved faster than she expected. His hand swung toward her, and his palm cracked across her already swollen cheek.

Kenna looked at the floor, her chin almost at her right shoulder. “Or not.” After a second, she straightened and looked at him. “So he lives. No matter the cost.”

“Cost is irrelevant. There is only our will and nothing else.”

She nodded as if that was fascinating, even though it seemed completely narcissistic in a weird, collective way. “And me? You’re gonna carve me up?”

“We die so that others may live,” Woodford said. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Sounds familiar. But I think it might be a military, wartime thing. Not you choosing who sacrifices a piece of themselves foryourgain. The people you take from aren’t volunteers. They don’t choose to give their lives for you.”

“In the end, we all choose to give everything. As will you.”

She just stared at him.

---