Romani Armada Read Free Page A

all. I’ve called for—”
    “Ryan.” It was Nayara’s voice. He looked up to find her in the curtained doorway.
    “There she is,” Fahmido finished.
    Ryan feasted on the sight of her as Nayara stepped into the ‘room’ created by the convergence of two walls of rock and an old tarpaulin strung across the wider end. She studied him with the same intensity as Fahmido and exchanged glances with the albino woman.
    “As far as I can tell, nothing seems to be wrong with him, now,” Fahmido said. “But then, I could find nothing wrong with him when he woke before, either.”
    “Thank you,” Nayara told her. “Could I have the room?”
    Fahmido nodded and stepped out past the tarpaulin. It drew Ryan’s attention beyond the flimsy barrier. He could hear people speaking in low tones, the sound of industry; digital equipment humming, the tap of old-fashioned keyboards.
    “This is the second time I’ve slept?”
    “You don’t remember the first time?”
    Ryan frowned, trying to think back beyond the terrifying blankness that occupied his immediate memories. “There’s something….” He shook his head.
    “Do you remember me bringing you here? From Cáel’s island, two weeks ago?” she asked.
    Ryan rubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to distract himself from the hard knot of tension building in his chest and stomach. He thought of Cáel, of the island retreat. Heat, sun, the dappled shade of the quiet patio. A painful goodbye. “I remember,” he admitted. “How could I forget?” He made himself look at Nia. Her fingers were touching the base of her throat, where his pendant had rested for so many years. Cáel wore it now.
    “If you remember that, then the rest will return, I’m sure,” she told him. “You fell asleep, if sleep it was, three days after I brought you here. You slept for four days. Four days after that, you slept again.”
    “How long did I sleep this time?” Ryan asked. He cleared his throat as it tightened.
    “Three days.” Nayara delivered the fact with her arms crossed and her gaze steady.
    “Three…” He drew in a breath. “The cycle is diminishing each time,” he observed. “And the interval is lengthening.”
    “Then you believe it is an effect from being hit by Gabriel’s weapon. That is the conclusion Fahmido reached, too.” She looked at him oddly.
    “I remember Gabriel’s weapon,” he assured her.
    Nayara turned and reached up to a metal shelf bolted right onto the rough wall, and brought down a long, rifle-shaped weapon. She rested the butt against the floor and held it by the tip of the barrel. “Recognize this?”
    “No, but under the circumstances, I’d say this is the weapon Gabriel used against me. Who took it from him?”
    “No one. Justin found the weapon lying on the floor of the station, at the very last moment just before the station blew. He picked it up because he thought it might be useful as none of his normal fighting skills were helping him.” Her full lips turned down. “That was before he got a good look at it.”
    “Why? What is wrong with it?”
    Nayara flipped the rifle up with expert moves and nestled it into her shoulder, aiming at him. Before Ryan could do more that widen his eyes, she pulled the trigger. There was a dry click and nothing else. “Look at the tip of the barrel,” she husked, still sighting along the length of it. Her single green eye visible above the rifle was somber.
    Ryan looked at the barrel, then reached for it. “It’s solid!”
    Nayara let him take the weapon. He laid it across his knees, examining it. “It’s shaped correctly, but it clearly was never intended to be a working gun,” he mused, operating the simplified trigger. “It won’t even crack open, so no shells, no ammunition....” He rubbed his temple hard, trying to recall when Gabriel had fired the weapon. “My back was turned,” he said. “I didn’t see what hit me.”
    “I saw,” Nayara said quietly. “And it was