Page 57 of Factory Controller

“The kids we’re considering do not have families to return to,” Andrew says, his eyes cold and hard. “Besides, my dears. It’s not your problem or your concern. Your time with the Factory is over, and you’ll never hear from us again. Unless you want to become one of our generous donors.”

Andrew crushes out his cigarette and throws a bill on the table. More than enough to cover a coffee and a croissant. He stands, blows me a kiss and walks away.

TRENT

Andrew leaves and Heather reels, her face contorted with anger over the fates of the indigenous children that will not be returned to their families. I reach out and put my hand on top of her own.

“Hey,” I give her hand a squeeze. “You did great, Heather.”

She flinches at my compliment. A look of gratitude flashes over her face for an instant, only to be replaced by a glum frown.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t save those kids, I just turned them over to a different type of captor.”

“Not all of them. Under the circumstances, I think you did a fantastic job. Most of the children are going back to their families. That’s better than none, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Heather says, hanging her head and staring at our entwined hands. “It still doesn’t feel like a victory.”

“Isabella was right about one thing.” I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. “You have a tendency to see things in terms of black and white, good and evil.”

“Those aren’t shifting points on a sliding scale for me, Trent,” Heather says firmly. “They’re absolutes.”

“I know.” I squeeze her hand again. “I know, and I wasn’t finding fault. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your unflinching dedication to doing the right thing is one of the things I admire about you.”

A flush comes to her cheeks, and she looks away for a moment. “Thank you. It’s nice to be validated.”

Heather turns her gaze back on me, a sly grin at her lips. “You’re not much different than me in that regard, though, when you really think about it.”

“What?” I shake my head. “I told you when this whole thing started, I’m not a hero.”

“Sure, you are,” she says, lifting my spirits. It’s not that I like the idea of being the big hero. I’m happy that Heather thinks so highly of me. “Let me tell you something about heroes. They don’t wear capes, or even necessarily badges or uniforms. A hero can be anyone who chooses to do the right thing when it would be so much easier not to. You’re my hero, Trent.”

I let out a laugh. “Some hero. Tarzan fights apes and lions and elephants, and I can’t even take out a measly jaguar.”

“That cat was huge.” Heather laughs softly. “Two hundred pounds of pure muscle and sinew, too. It’s incredible you even survived, let alone drove it off.”

“Keep this up and my head’s going to swell so much I can’t get this turtleneck off.” I tug at my collar for emphasis.

She laughs, but her face grows serious soon after. “Trent, what happens now?”

“Now, I imagine the Factory leaves you alone.”

“No, I mean…what happens with us?”

“There’s an us?” I perk up and grin. “I like the sound of an us.”

“Do you? Do you really? We were thrown into an extreme set of circumstances, Trent. I wouldn’t blame you if you felt…I don’t know. That you got…carried away.”

“No way.” I grab her hand in both of mine and look her dead in the eye. “I’ve lost so much in my life, Heather. I don’t want to lose you.”

She smiles, putting her free hand on top of the pile. My heart’s so warm I’ve barely noticed we’re outside in the cold.

“I don’t want to lose you, either.” Her face splits in a wide grin. “I’d even live in a shack in the rainforest, if it meant we could be together.”

“You wouldn’t miss the trappings of civilization?” I ask.

“I might miss some of it,” Heather says. “But what you said earlier is right. I have a black and white view of morality, and modern society doesn’t. Things were so much easier down in the jungle. Simpler.”

“Do you really mean what you’re saying right now?” I can’t help being a little incredulous. “What about the spiders, and the snakes, and the jaguars—”

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