Morning light crept through the cracked blinds. The heavy drumming of the acid rain had faded to a slow drip against the clogged gutters outside.
The motel room was freezing. Caleb sat on the edge of the sagging mattress. The rusted springs groaned under his weight. He pulled his stiff canvas trousers up and fastened his combat belt with his left hand. His right arm felt heavy, the bruised muscles protesting the movement. He kept his head perfectly straight. The torn muscle across his collarbone pulled tight with every breath.
Kikaru stood near the foggy bathroom mirror. She had her gray academy jacket zipped all the way to her throat. She smoothed a crease on her sleeve, pulling the fabric taut over her wrist. Her carbon-fiber leg brace clicked loudly as she shifted her weight. She kept her back to the bed.
Caleb stared at the worn toes of his surplus boots. He reached for his blood-stained undershirt, wadded it into a tight ball, and shoved it into his canvas duffel bag.
