Page 2 of Seamus: Unconventional
Chris starts explaining so my eyes go to him with a smaller window of dizzy this time. “I got it,Sombra. We were called to help a Club fight off what we thought was a Mexican biker attack on a small Club town in Texas. It was actually some form of military hunting you. Your dogs pulled you to the Club with a bunch of workers from your farm. They call you Scott but we didn’t find any ID on you. When Pres saw the dogs, he had Justice fly you here to the Colorado Club. He thinks they were attacking because of the military or jobs you did.”
I squeeze my eyes tight trying to remember and clear my vision. “My chair?” It’s the missing piece of me that should be seen anywhere I am.
“Blown up. The farm is gone. The Texas Club is taking care of the workers and has them planting fields there. You’ve been down for a while and they needed jobs.”
That’s a decent thing to do for my workers. The Badass Club is a good forty miles from where the farm was. I regretted moving there as soon as spring hit. Winter was nice, but spring was a precursor to the hell summer ended up being. Even my dogs hated the farm. My Malinois X partners had no problem no matter where we were sent, but long-term in the Texas summer was draining them. They were losing that little bounce and excitement our days always started with. The dream of fighting cartels like action movie characters was truly a dream and the stories that got us there had truth to them, but not enough to base a lifetime chained to dry, hot and hell like weather conditions. I grew up in an opposite universe. Rolling hills, plenty of rain and the much cooler climate were a taunting, probably exaggerated, memory that always reared during irrigation issues that needed a repair at fifteen hundred on one of the numerous record-breaking hottest days in history. Every day was a record-breaking hottest day in history.
Chris laughs on the side of me causing my eyes to snap to his again.
“I’m a reader. Texas isn’t an option anymore?” He isn’t hiding a thing here.
Pictures of me in this room hit my brain as if the dogs are sending it but I don’t feel the connection to the pictures like with our chip. It’s the young VP.My breath stops and eyes see him clear for the first time when his hand touches my arm. ‘Holy shit.’ I send seeing my partners focus on his hand.
He smiles wider. “Yeah, that about sums it up. We’re freaky, Native Indian and from the Princes of Prophecy in Rhode Island.” His words settle the partners down.
He looks about as Indian as I do. “You’re Indian?” My brain is still running too slow, he just said it.
He nods seriously. “Adopted into the Mohegans but, yeah, we all have Indian in us. Aiyana bridged the ancestors so we’re all one tribe now. I don’t think ancestry matters anymore. It never mattered to us but we’re young and didn’t grow up on a reservation.”
I get it. “Me either. What’s wrong with my throat and how can I get another chair?”
He smiles like I’m cracking jokes here. “Mucimi said they were looking for tracking or something in your neck. They left it an open wound figuring you were dying, but your dogs got you away and to the Club with your workers. The workers said the dogs took care of them and had secured three trucks and a supply truck.”
I smile, proud of the partners. “The dogs aren’t dogs, they are my partners. The emergency trucks were for them to make it back to Mexico or Central America. They could sell the supplies or use them while finding another job. It’s legal and I had the papers for them. They don’t need it, but one form stops them from being deported. They all have tribal community cards so they don’t need more but local cops and nitpickers don’t understand Native.”
His eyes watch mine in a weird way. “They have permanent visas or something close to it now. Whatever the probation was could have been a problem for them, Native or not. Kaleb said the visa means they’re not tracked or given shit if they’re stopped because it has some Native form number listed on it. Hell, even visas can be a problem today, but they’ll be safe in the Badass towns. The SAA in Texas said they’re happy but ask about you daily.”
I nod once. “They have visas? We just started the paperwork for the US forms. They said it would take a year at the least.”
“We did all the background checks and sent lawyers with the paperwork to four immigration judges waiting for an opening. It took two days but we got in one and the judge signed them all. You had work records, Native affiliations and all the forms filled out. Verifying your work was easy. The judge asked for Badass to help clear his docket but Cort has been busy.”
“You help with courts?”
He laughs. “No or yes, but not usually immigration shit. Our Boss had to get lawyers explaining why they even needed the visa or whatever fix. It’s a stupid reason and waste of money when they’re already legal. There is so much going on, I don’t think it’s a Badass priority right now. Educating the government isn’t high on his list. It doesn’t matter now but Pres called Kaleb for your workers. He knew that dog from some base he visited last year for an Op Badass was involved in but not your name.”
I nod getting it and let the dog thing slide. “I’ll have to thank him. My workers are good people and technically, they can move throughout American countries but some of their family were already picked up by ICE agents. They’re Native but only Americans think Native American only pertains to the US. They never have a problem moving through Mexico or down through Central America with their tribal or community ID. US Border Patrol were breathing down our necks.”
His gleaming eyes and nodding head stops me. “We had this whole debate about America in school when I was like twelve. I was on the right side so pulling information was easy for me. We just used laws and treaties. The kids on the US only side were scrambling. It’s tough to fight what’s common knowledge but they did okay by jumping to a defense stance. It did teach us that entitlement leads to so much more than attitude. Canada, Greenland, Mexico, parts of the Caribbean and all of Central and South America being “America” is overlooked. South America has twelve different countries. Only US Americans believe our one country with fifty small states is more special than all the other parts of America that dwarf our size.”
I smile at the young VP with a better education than I’ve seen from US Americans in the military. Being an American raised by my uncle in Scotland, after my parents died, gives me a little different view of the US than most US citizens. “We did come out of the global pandemic faster and stronger than any other nation, Americas included.” I smile at the little quip.
He nods seriously, looking older than a second ago. Chris has some tough life lived under his belt. “We did and I know Badass is honored to be at the top of that list but we have a whole country that worked, sacrificed and retrained to get us to that globally recognized spot. It’s not every day you get envy of the world recognition. The Little Brothers were proud and had screenshots of the articles…” he chuckles, “some were Google shots from other countries that caused a new multi-language interest. They’re funny kids.”
I nod. “So, the chair?” Not having a way out makes me feel trapped.
Chris points to the corner and raises the bed up. What looks like a black standard wheelchair is there. Black isn’t a normal color for the metal on chairs but I guess in Badass it is. It relieves me to see it.
“Harper is on her way. She was at Bravo so it’s taking a minute. Do you need to get up?”
I’m not telling him my ridiculous psychological need for a way out when I don’t need a way out right now. I’ve got nowhere to go and no idea what’s wrong with me, so I have no idea what our new normal is or will be. “No, but it’s part of me and was set up for me and the partners.”
“Alder is coming so you can ask him about options for a chair. He could make you a skeleton so you can walk instead of ride. Ask Alder about chairs, medical or computer shit. The dog thing may be something Harky knows. I’m not a handler but he rescues all kinds of dogs now. The CIA was growing them again. You knew about injections, which is more than me, so ask Harky about dog shit.”
I smile at that too. ‘Dog shit’ isn’t a conversation I’m having with anyone, but I’ll ask about parts to build what I need for the chair. I’m never walking again but need those modifications for my partners and my own security. “I’ll ask Alder and Harky. Thepartnersare chipped to me. The CIA is all screwed up. The experiment was listed as too dangerous butLuzfound two more that were chipped. They were only with us for a week before the bikers came.”
His head is shaking like he doesn’t like that. “Not bikers, they were military but the Flight Lead that transported you here said MERCS.”
That makes more sense. “Ex-military. Yeah, it was so fast and I was focused on the workers. I sent Shadow to lead the women to the tunnel with the trucks but they were dropping from the sky before he got back.”
