XVII - Choices

First Commander Tristis sat at the table sullenly examining her glass. She drank a great deal lately -- too much. It took an increasing amount of alcohol to make her insensitive to her troubles. This was only her second drink. She had a long way to go before she could hope to drown out her gloomy thoughts.

Remember, Tristis, a voice from within said, a Clemens child killed your husband. That's right, that's right. A seemingly innocent child had been a killer. Who knew where danger lurked? Everyone was a suspect.....

Damn!! Why was she killing children!?! And defenseless men and women!? How had life come to this?!

Some of them were Clemens terrorists. Had to be! There could be no mistake about that. How many? One? Two? Three? A dozen?

And how many had died in the village of Purus? Two or three dozen perhaps. Maybe more. A successful response to terrorism, a voice inside her rang hollow.

And what about the wounded and homeless in Purus? How many women had lost a husband.........just like her? War was by its very nature a dirty and messy business. But even in war, you should be sure what you were doing! Over there -- the villains. And over here -- the heroines. You should know exactly which ones to shoot and which ones to decorate. But this..........

The first commander began massaging her furrowed forehead with her fingers. How had she been assigned to this hellish place? Join the army! Have a career! Command!

Well, here she was -- with no husband......and killing children. She gulped down the rest of her drink and slammed the empty glass down onto the table. Damn!

She motioned to the bartender to bring her another. He nodded from across the room and began pouring.

Tristis wiped the sweat from the back of her neck. The air conditioning never seemed to work in this part of the country -- western Kefar. You'd think they'd at least have some consideration for the loyal troops condemned to this hellhole. Where would the rest of the country be without loyal soldiers to chase Clemens terrorists all over this wasteland?

'Why can't trained government troops find them?' they ask.

How are you supposed to find Satan herself? And only the devil could survive in this country.

The drink arrived at her table.

"Thanks," the first commander offered tersely.

"You look tired today, Commander," the waiter said. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Tired?" Tristis questioned bitterly. "Why I haven't killed any children in at least a week! Now why would I be tired? A toast!" she exclaimed, lifting her glass. "To First Commander Tristis and the skillful job she is doing in wiping out Clemens children and old men! They should give me a medal." She emptied her glass in a single gulp.

The waiter smiled uncomfortably and slipped quietly away. First Commander Tristis could be a kind woman but when she was in one of her 'moods' it was best to avoid her. She hadn't been the same since her husband had been killed.

Discordant notes suddenly blared from the jukebox behind Tristis. Damn noise! What was wrong with young soldiers today?! Didn't they know what real music was? Only seven years her junior the new recruits were. Where had this huge generation gap sprung from in so short a time?

Well, there were certain advantages in being a First Commander. For one, you could demand obedience. You could order snot-nosed kids to shut off that infernal racket.

Tristis abruptly swiveled in her chair, lashing out with her left arm at the invisible foe drifting through the air. "Hey, dammit! What the hell do you--"

She never finished the sentence. Her elbow hit the midsection of a man who had been unlucky enough to choose this moment to walk by her table. Her feet whirled with the rest of her body and caught the man's legs at the ankles, tripping him as neatly as if she had planned it. He sprawled forward awkwardly.

A surprised Tristis tried to catch the man as he fell, but she did more harm than good. She grabbed an arm but inadvertently turned the man so the back of his head solidly struck the edge of the nearest table. A grunt escaped the man's lips. He was momentarily stunned by the blow.

Tristis knelt next to the man on the floor. She noted the uniform even as she spoke. "Are you alright?!" she exclaimed. Her own morose thoughts were forgotten. The man seemed hurt. "I didn't see you coming!"

The fallen soldier moved sluggishly, groaning, his right hand gingerly feeling the back of his head. He blinked several times as the images around him slowly stopped spinning. The woman kneeling over him finally took shape.

It was an attractive face. He noticed that first. It diffused any anger he might have otherwise felt.

"No, I'm alright," he replied, attempting to smile amiably. His head hurt, but he was focused on the alluring face at the moment.

"I'm really sorry," Tristis gushed. "It was entirely my fault. I just whipped right into you without looking. Do you think you feel well enough to stand?"

Despite the throbbing in his head, the man was enjoying the attention. After all, it wasn't often that an attractive woman could be found fawning over him. The last year had been a lonely one. "Sure. I'm okay," he said with a grin.

As he moved to gather his legs under him, Tristis' hands reached out to help him. His eyes moved up her arm where he found the insignia on her shoulder. "Commander!" the man blurted out in surprise as he rose to his feet. He stood stiffly at attention, the rules of discipline seizing him.

"Good heavens, man! Forget about that!" Tristis exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders and easing him down into a chair at her table. "I just clobbered you! Don't salute me for that!" Nonetheless, his reaction pleased Tristis. She appreciated the opportunity to put him at ease. It certainly made an apology easier. She had already noted the handsome face. "Now you stay right here and I'll get some ice for your head," Tristis continued. She looked in the direction of the bar. "Barnaby!" she shouted. "Would you get me some ice in a rag, please?!"

The bartender nodded and began walking toward the cooler.

"We'll have some ice for your head in a minute," Tristis announced, her adrenaline flowing. "Do you have a bump there?"

"No. I mean -- just a little one," he stammered self-consciously, "Commander," he finished.

"Would you please drop the 'Commander' stuff?" she encouraged him. "It would make me feel a little easier." She slid into the chair across from him at the small table. "Lieutenant," she added, finally focusing on the markings on his shoulder. A junior officer, Tristis thought to herself, but an officer nonetheless.

"Only if you agree not to call me 'Lieutenant'," he grinned. He suddenly panicked inside. She had been extremely friendly up till this point, but his suggestion was more than a little impertinent. After all, she was a First Commander! "If that's okay with you, Com--," he hastily added, biting off the title, suddenly remembering her suggestion. What a klutz he was being!

"TRISTIS," she said with emphasis and a smile. "Please call me Tristis. And your name?"

"Accidre," he replied with a nervous smile. She seemed unaffected by his blunders. Maybe this was going in a positive direction after all!

"Well, Accidre, what brought you from wherever you were into my path of destruction?" she asked amiably.

"It's a pretty long story," he drawled. "And a very strange one."

"Well, I have time," she invited. "That is if you do." Small talk. She wasn't much good at it, but she had no choice. She really wanted this man to stay a while. All her attention was focused on this goal. She was spurred on by the threat of loneliness she had felt only a few moments ago.

"Oh yes," he nodded hastily. "I won't be going anywhere soon. My jeep broke down."

"You walked into town?!" Tristis asked in amazement. "My heavens, you could have baked in this heat!"

"No," he answered. "That what makes it all so odd. My jeep didn't quit till I reached this very bar. Just died dead away as I pulled to a stop."

A waiter arrived with a bag of ice, interrupting the conversation.

"Thanks," Accidre said, taking the proffered ice pack.

"You're welcome," the waiter replied. "Would you like a drink, sir?"

"Ah, well, I'm not much for alcohol. Do you have any of that morganberry soda?"

"Certainly. Would you like that with ice?"

"Please," he said with emphasis. "Lots of ice."

The waiter smiled and nodded, then left the pair at the table.

Accidre self-consciously put the ice pack on the back of his head. It really did not hurt that much anymore. Yet, here the bag was. What else was he to do with it?

"Boy, it sure can get hot here!" Accidre exclaimed. Idle conversation. Not his forte. He looked at the woman across from him. He did have considerable motivation to engage in it, though.

"Yes, the heat does seem considerably more intense in western Kefar, doesn't it?" Tristis commented. "They say it's due to the jet flow and how it has chosen this part of the island as a stopping off point or change in direction or something like that, I guess. I confess I'm not a meteorologist." She continued to say nothing of importance, but then, that's what idle social chatter was all about.

"Look," Accidre said, taking the ice pack from the back of his head and placing it on the table, "my head really doesn't hurt that bad, anymore. It did at first, but it's really much better now and I feel quite silly pressing a bag full of ice against my head. Although some would say my head is swelled most of the time anyway," he finished with a grin. Pretty good line, he thought to himself. He was starting to feel at ease here.

Tristis smiled in return. "Oh, I doubt that. Any man with an inflated ego would most certainly have belted me after I knocked him to the floor. I'll bet your wife would agree." Not very subtle, Tristis would have to concede, but she had to get at the key issue here. Was this guy married or not? Most likely he was, but her eyes had already searched for the wedding bracelet on his wrist and had found none. Of course, he could have removed it. Perhaps it irritated his skin in this heat. Most anything would. Still, maybe there was another reason he did not wear it, the reason she was looking for.

"Oh, I'm not married," Accidre said, shaking his head. "I mean I was, but....well, my wife died over a year ago," he finished in a low tone, looking down at the table.

"I'm sorry," Tristis apologized. "I didn't know. I--I didn't mean to offend you or bring back any painful memories." She was genuinely contrite. She did not wish to have this man revisit unpleasant feelings from the past. What a ghastly way to find out that he was single!

"No, it's alright," Accidre said with a shake of his head. "I don't mind talking about it. I can't change the past and we all have to move on at some point. That time has come for me. What about you? There must be some lucky man waiting for you to come home from the war at night."

Tristis could feel her face suddenly grow hot, if it were possible to become warmer in this heat. She was reacting like a teenager! The man's sudden compliment had taken her entirely aback. "No," she replied, finding her voice. "The plots may be different but my story ends like yours. My husband died two years ago." She did not give details. No reason to at this point. It was like this man had said -- time to move on.

"Well, it's my turn to express apologies," he stated earnestly. "I hope I didn't offend you."

"Not at all," came the hasty reply.

A momentary lull developed in the conversation. Tristis wondered how next to proceed. Fifteen minutes ago, she had been attempting to drown her gloomy thoughts in a pool of alcohol. And now --- a handsome man sat across the table from her. Strange how fast circumstances could change.

She studied his face. He couldn't be more than a few years younger than she was. This was ridiculous! Her emotions were racing ahead of her! The man must have a unit to join and it certainly was not hers! Only a jeep in need of repair had kept him from it. He would be moving on as soon as it was fixed! Still........who knew when a chance like this might next present itself? Perhaps never.

The waiter arrived back at the table and placed the man's drink in front of him. Accidre reached into his pocket to pull out some money, but Tristis quickly intervened. "Never mind that. This drink's on me. Put it on my tab, Hector," she said to the waiter, "and give yourself a tip."

"Thank you, Commander," the waiter replied graciously, then turned and walked away.

"Thanks," Accidre said, "but you really didn't have to do that."

"Nonsense!" Tristis said. "Of course I did. It's the least I could do. So, why don't you tell me exactly how you came to be here? This place isn't exactly on the beaten path."

"I'm ashamed to say I got lost," Accidre replied. "Funny thing, too; I'm usually pretty good with maps. I was on my way to join Unit 23 in Cicero. It's where I'm going to be stationed, at least temporarily. I guess the army just can't make up its mind where to put me. I really don't know what happened -- how I lost my way I mean."

"You certainly were lost," Tristis commented emphatically but warmly, "and far out of your way. Wainscot is hours off the path to Cicero."

"I can believe that," he said with certainty. "As a matter of fact, I was driving around for hours on one back road after another. They all seem the same after a while. Anyway, I was out there eating dust when my jeep suddenly died. Didn't even sputter. Just quit right out in the middle of nowhere. The sun was really beating down on me, too. Worse than a desert."

"Indeed it is," Tristis nodded emphatically. "A person could die if she were stranded out there for long."

"I'd have to admit the thought did cross my mind," Accidre confessed. "But the strangest thing happened," he said with a shake of his head. "No sooner had I stepped out of the jeep when a woman came walking over the hill. She was just strolling along like it was a fine, cool afternoon. Anyway, she made a beeline straight for me, like she wasn't surprised at all to see me. She said 'Hello' and I said 'Hi' back. I asked her if she lived around there and she admitted she was a little ways from home. Then I asked her where her vehicle was and she said she didn't have one. Can you beat that?!" Accidre asked emphatically leaning forward in his chair, his arms on the table. "Where did she come from in that heat?!" he asked rhetorically. "I mean the sweat's rolling off me like a river and there's not a drop of perspiration on the woman!" He paused to wet his palate with the morganberry soda. Accidre took a long, deep drink, savoring its coolness. "Excuse me. I'm really thirsty. I suppose I'm boring you to death."

"No. This is fascinating," Tristis encouraged him with a smile. It had been a long time since she had talked with a man, not as commander to subordinate but woman to man. She was enjoying it.

"Well," he continued enthusiastically, bolstered by her reassurance, "this woman didn't even ask me what was wrong. She just told me to open the hood. I guess she doesn't like people looking over her shoulder because she told me to go sit in the driver's seat while she worked on it. It didn't take her long, either. After only about a minute, she told me to give it a try. I turned the key and it started right up! Amazing! Then she shut the hood and pointed me in this direction. Said that her temporary repair wouldn't last long and that I better head for Wainscot. Told me to stop at a bar called 'Barnaby's'. Said someone there would be able to help me. I guess she meant this Barnaby fellow would know where I could get my jeep fixed, because then she just turned around and started walking away, going in the same direction that she had come from. The heat waves rising off the horizon just seemed to swallow her up as she went over the hill! Weird!" Accidre finished with wide eyes as he paused to take another drink from his glass.

Tristis nodded, acknowledging his excitement. It was a strange story, she had to admit that. It made no sense that a lone woman would be out in the desert-like heat on foot. But more importantly, Tristis simply enjoyed being in the presence of this man. He was full of life! She made him feel good, a sensation she had not experienced in quite some time. Too long.

He had said he was being assigned to Unit 23. 'At least temporarily,' had been his exact words. Maybe she could do something to have him reassigned to a more permanent position, like Unit 14 in Wainscot, for instance. Her unit.

Dammit! she scolded herself. It wasn't the thing to do --- using one's command position for personal reasons. But how many chances in life like this was she likely to get?! Not many! she was sure. In fact, this could be her last chance. Officers were allowed to fraternize in western Kefar, as long as they informed headquarters. Special rules for this draining assignment.

"......So I drove to Wainscot," Accidre continued, "and like I told you before, my jeep died right as I pulled up to this bar." He shook his head in bewilderment. "I tell you, there was something more than luck involved in all this."

A young woman in uniform suddenly appeared at the first commander's side. So intent had she been on Accidre's story that Tristis did not immediately notice the young woman's arrival.

"Excuse me, Commander," the young soldier finally said formally, standing stiffly at attention.

"Yes, Annamon," Tristis answered. "What is it?"

"I have a dispatch for you from Headquarters, Commander!" Annamon answered crisply, handing her commander a folded note. "Communications officer Henderson said I should bring it to you immediately!" The young woman continued to stand stiffly at attention.

"Thank you, private," Tristis said, holding the note. "You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Commander!" Annamon spoke, still rigidly at attention, holding a clenched fist on her chest in a salute. Then she turned crisply and walked briskly away from them and out the door.

"New woman," Tristis said simply to Accidre in way of explanation. "She thinks she's still at the Academy. I give her about two more weeks for this heat to take the starch out of her gait." The first commander opened the note. "If you'll excuse me, I better read this. Headquarters probably wants me to rescue some tourists stranded in the heat," she said with a smile.

Accidre smiled and nodded in reply.

As First Commander Tristis read the communication, the soft look on her face faded. Then nausea swept over her.

The words on the paper stood out bold and clear. The order was explicit. There was no way to avoid it. Tristis stared at it for a long time, perhaps hoping the message would miraculously change, but knowing that it would not.

How could this be happening?! She had no stomach for killing more old men and children, not now, especially not at this moment!

Tristis finally looked up at the expectant face sitting across from her. Why now!?!! The question roared through her head. Everything had been going so well in the last few minutes, like a gift from heaven. She looked down again at the note. But this order ---- it came straight from hell!

"Is something the matter?" Accidre asked cautiously at last. Something in the note had shocked Tristis, at least he thought so. Her demeanor had definitely changed. Since the note was none of his business, he had chosen to remain silent. But in the short time he had been talking to this woman he had come to enjoy her presence very much. He was very much concerned by her now troubled visage, and thus could restrain himself no longer.

Tristis glanced up from the note and stared into the face of Accidre. It was a kind face, a handsome face, an inviting face. Her eyebrows beetled together in puzzlement. What was happening here?!

"The woman who helped you," Tristis finally found her voice. "What was her name?"

"I didn't think to ask," Accidre answered. "I barely had a chance to thank her, so quickly did she leave."

The first commander nodded solemnly, still pondering the note in her hand and the man across from her. "What did she look like?"

Accidre was puzzled by the questions. What did they have to do with the note in Tristis' hand? Nonetheless, he answered as best he could. "Well, she was about your height, and attractive -- like you."

The man was a sincere charmer when he wanted to be. A few moments ago, Tristis would have savored such a comment, but now she concentrated only on the facts about the strange woman Accidre had encountered in the rocky desert.

"Her skin tone was a little darker than yours, though," Accidre went on. "Her hair was dark brown and her eyes ---- her eyes were a deep brown that seemed as if they could penetrate you. It was a strange feeling, but then, like I said, everything about her was pretty queer."

It could be her!! the thought came to an amazed Tristis. My Nome, it could be her!! The woman in the village! 'Jasmine', her papers had said!

It could be anybody, Tristis' logical mind argued in return. Lots of people fit that description. It didn't prove anything. Everything here could be just one series of peculiar coincidences. It happened sometimes.

But still, Tristis thought. She had to be sure, if that were possible. She had to know. "Think hard, Accidre," she implored. "Is there anything the woman might have said that you haven't told me, anything at all? What about just before she left you? Did she say anything then? Specifically, what were her exact words?"

Accidre searched his memory. This was obviously of great importance to Tristis, so he was determined to comply if he could. "Yes," he said after a moment of concentration, his face lighting with recognition. "She did say something. She said, 'Go in peace, Accidre, for it will find you.' I'd forgotten until now, but at the time I thought it was very odd, because I couldn't remember telling her my name." Accidre looked straight at Tristis. "Isn't that strange?"

The first commander froze, astonished, simply staring at the lieutenant, not responding to his question.

Then she looked down at the note in her hand. She found her eyes could no longer focus on it; the words were blurred, as if they had metamorphosed into black bugs and were now swimming across the paper. She looked back up at the concerned face staring at her. Accidre was silently asking if she needed help.

Her eyes went down to the note again. It remained hazy, the bugs crawling everywhere. She squinted, but still the words would not come into focus.

"Tristis? Tristis?" Finally the soft, male voice intruded into her thoughts. "Are you alright, Tristis?"

"What?" she asked, looking up into Accidre's concerned face, as if awakening from a trance.

"Are you alright?" Accidre repeated. "Something seems to be troubling you. Maybe it's none of my business, but I'd like to help if I could."

"Would you stay here?" Tristis asked abruptly. "Stay right here and don't move while I go do something?!" she implored desperately, almost in a panic.

"Well.....yeah.....sure," he replied slowly and in bewilderment.

Tristis suddenly rose from her chair. It slid back, the wooden legs screeching on the floor. "You won't go?! Please!" she beseeched him frantically.

Tristis was pleading with him. Accidre was at a complete loss to understand the reason, but he was determined to comply with her request. "I won't budge from this spot until you return," he stated emphatically. "Guaranteed!"

"Thanks!" she said with obvious relief. "I won't be gone long."

With that, Tristis wheeled and strode quickly to the door, flinging it open and stepping out into the oppressive heat of late afternoon. Her boots kicked up little clouds of dust as she stepped briskly across the street. Her pace was fast and occasionally she would skip forward a step or two, almost breaking into a trot, but she managed to restrain herself.

Soon, she was at the door to the communications building. She pushed it open and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind her. Then she paused to take a deep breath.

Calm yourself, Tristis, she silently told herself.

Then she moved quickly on. She walked the length of the room and opened another door. She stepped inside a small, compact room and closed the door behind her.

A short man with auburn hair sat at a control console with his back to Tristis, but he seemed not to be monitoring the dials in front of him. Instead, he wore a set of earphones, held together by a thin flat metal strip arcing across the top of his head. He was tapping the wooden counter in front of him, keeping time to the sound of music. He was totally oblivious to the presence of his commanding officer.

The first commander clasped her hands behind her back and took a step forward, playing her formal role as commanding officer. Her eyes roamed the instrument panel. She deliberately ignored the communications officer, but she was well aware that she had just moved into line of his peripheral vision.

Startled, the man reached up with his right hand and tore the earphones from his head, stuffing them between his right thigh and the arm of the chair. "Commander!" he exclaimed, moving to jump to his feet.

But Tristis' right hand reached out and rested on his shoulder, pushing him back down. "No need to get up, Lieutenant," she stated amiably, her eyes still roving the instrument panel. "I just stopped by to see how things were going."

"Yes, commander," Lieutenant Henderson replied nervously. In the middle of the afternoon?! he thought. What the hell was going on?! And what was she going to say about him listening to music?! He was in deep trouble here! The old woman was going to have his ass for sure!

"Henderson, would you get me a glass of ice tea?" she asked after a momentary pause. "It's terribly hot and I'm very thirsty."

"Yes, commander," Henderson replied in bewilderment, rising from his chair. He took a step toward the door, pausing for any further orders, expecting a reprimand to come at any moment. However, the first commander said nothing else, so he opened the door and slinked from the room.

Tristis gave the door a little shove. It swung shut. Then she reached up to her left and firmly grasped four wires running into the instrument panel from the ceiling. She gave the wires one swift pull. The dials on the instrument panel suddenly went lifeless. Lights went out, needles slid backward.

Tristis gazed contentedly at the board. A moment later, communications officer Henderson reentered the room.

"I have your iced tea, commander," he announced.

"Thank you, Henderson," she replied, taking the proffered glass.

Henderson stood stiffly at attention.

"Oh, sit down, lieutenant," Tristis said amiably with a wave of her hand.

Henderson did so, noticing the lifeless dials in front of him. He glanced first to his right in puzzlement, then to his left. His eyes rose upward. Then he saw the hanging wires, limp and disconnected. He pondered them in bewilderment for a moment.

"Henderson," the first commander at last said innocently, placing her glass on his work counter, "that dispatch you had sent over to me -- I seem to have lost it before I got a chance to read it. I was going to ask you to call Headquarters and have them resend it, but I see your communications center is malfunctioning in some way."

The bewildered communications officer simply nodded in silence. Better not to respond verbally -- at least not until he knew what in the world was going on here.

"And," Tristis continued pleasantly, "it looks to me like it will take you --- oh --- at least a week to fix it. What do you think?"

Damn! A direct question! He'd have to respond now. Henderson looked up at the wires in indecision, then at the first commander. He cleared his throat. "Well.....I think it will take...just about a week to find and fix the problem, Commander," he managed cautiously. He hoped it had been the right answer.

"Good!" she replied heartily, slapping him on the back. "Always confident you can fix a problem, Henderson! I like that! And only a week! Good man! Well, I have to be going now." She turned toward the door, then paused. "Oh, by the way, I don't want you using any civilian equipment or channels in the meantime. Too much danger of eavesdropping by Clemens terrorists. Can't have that." The amiable expression on the first commanders's face faded as she finished. Her expression became stone cold and very serious. "That's an order, lieutenant."

"Yes, commander," he answered, rising out of his chair and crisply saluting with a clenched fist on his chest.

"Carry on then." And with that, the first commander opened the door and left, closing it behind her.

Henderson let out a huge sigh of relief. "Talk about weird!" he began muttering. " 'Get me a glass of iced tea,' " he mimicked. "Like it's easier for her to walk all the way across the street and have me get her one when she could just raise her hand and Barnaby would bring her one!" he then commented caustically.

"Look! She didn't even drink it!" he exclaimed, waving his hand in frustration at the full glass on the counter.

" 'Your communications center is malfunctioning,' -- It usually does when somebody pulls all the damn wires out!"

" 'At least a week to fix it.' -- Hell! An hour maybe -- when I've got a hangover. The woman has gone nuts! A baked fruitcake!"

Henderson slumped in his chair and pondered the dangling wires. After a few moments, he remembered the earphones he had stuffed into the side of his chair. He pulled them out.

The slim band of wire was bent. He straightened it and placed the padded plugs over his ears. He then leaned far back in his chair and put his feet up on the counter. He noted again the limp wires. Plenty of time for that. A whole week in fact. He began tapping on the arms of his chair to the beat of the music....

Tristis wasted no time in leaving the communications building. She hurried across the street. She must be crazy. She could get in a lot of trouble for what she had just done.

Well what could they do to her? Assign her to a hellhole like this? It couldn't get any worse than this.

What about her rank? They could strip her of it.

So what? Rank didn't mean very much when a person was lonely. Yeah! That's what she was -- lonely! But that could change. And there was a man sitting in the bar right now who could make it happen.

And scores of children will be saved, she thought as she opened the bar door. No, not saved --- their execution would only be delayed a week. Did what she had done really matter? Whether it be tomorrow or a week from tomorrow -- they would still die.

....................Jasmine's voice echoed in her head.

END OF CHAPTER