Innocent Monsters: An Orphic Assassin Novel (The Orphic Assassin Trilogy Book 3) by Sam Luna

Author:Sam Luna [Luna, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Capsaicin Press
Published: 2023-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

31

Crossroads, Troissy, France; February 1945

Ignatius knows it’s Demián trudging through the forest behind him, but at the same time he knows it’s not. Not the Demián he defended in court, anyway. Ignatius has had this dream so many times he doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s following him anymore, a German-made flammenwerfer strapped to the man’s back, freshly topped off with gasoline. No, not the man, the man is the cowboy in the desert. That’s a different dream. Here, in the snowy forests of eastern France, Demián is the woman.

The lieutenant.

Ignatius raises his hands to his face. When he sees the pale-white skin, he always thinks it will wake him up, like in a falling dream right before hitting the ground. It doesn’t, so he pulls up his sleeve, inspecting the rest of his arm, as if perhaps it might be the correct hue. It isn’t. Demián the woman is now next to him, her green eyes meeting his. He has seen these eyes before, countless times over…what? Years? Decades?

Lifetimes?

“You okay, Sergeant?” Demián asks him. No, not Demián. It’s Dee.

No, it’s not Dee either.

It’s ma’am.

“Just fine. Thank you kindly,” Ignatius hears himself say, in a voice that’s not his own. “And how are you holding up, ma’am?”

Dee takes a deep breath of chilled forest air and exhales steam. “Couldn’t be better. Feel like I’m finally on my way.”

They march along, their companions speaking French in low, urgent voices.

“You ever get homesick?” Dee asks him.

“Homesick, ma’am?” Ignatius replies. “I suppose so, yes.”

“What do you miss most about home?”

Ignatius thinks for a moment before answering. “Just city life, ma’am. Patriots games. Had season tickets. The harbor. Always knowing which way is east. And snow, believe it or not. We don’t get much snow in Albuquerque.”

Dee’s expression is one of utter confusion.

“I thought you said you were from Illinois, Sergeant,” she says. “Sandwich. That’s a small town, isn’t it?”

His childhood—no, not his, but a childhood—flashes in his memory. Mom and Dad and his sister Jenny and a pair of goldfish named Dean and Jerry in a bowl on the piano. Mom plays the piano. This child’s memories are as warm as his own.

“I’m from Boston,” Ignatius replies. “I think. I know I’m not making any sense. I really apologize, ma’am.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dee asks.

“Thing of it is, ma’am, I can’t seem to wake up,” he says, voice cracking. Forty-seven years in the future, his arms and legs twitch on the mattress.

“I feel like that too sometimes,” Dee says, her bright-green eyes going dull and sad. “No matter how hard I try, I just…lay there.”

“That’s what I’m doing, ma’am,” Ignatius says. “Exactly that. Will you help me?”

Dee pulls the flammenwerfer off her back and cradles it in her arms. “Help you do what, Sergeant?”

“Wake up,” Ignatius says. He’s begging. “Please, ma’am. I want to wake up.”

Now everything is in slow motion. Ignatius hears his heart beating in his ears. It’s as if he’s moving through liquid just before it solidifies into ice.

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