Drastic Measures

“Where’d you get your hands on something like that?” asked the Captain, peering over Amber’s shoulder at the breakfast table.
She took a sip of her coffee and turned the page. She answered, “…library.”
She could feel his look of disbelief. “I don’t think so, lass,” he said.
She paused, deliberately, for a long time. She didn’t have a good answer. There were no good answers. “….I found it,” she finally responded.

The Captain set a skeletal hand on one of the book’s yellowed pages; the off-white bones obstructed Amber’s view of the drawing beneath. He tapped the mandala beneath his middle finger and the ghostly visage of muscle and blood and skin wrapped around his hand for no more than a few seconds. Amber swallowed hard, though her impassive expression did not change.
“These be dark things, Lass.” The Captain’s voice was low and quiet.

“It is not yet against the law to read,” Amber said. She kept her eyes on the book and away from her friend. It did not help, their connection a constant reminder of his concern.
“Aye, but it ain’t against the law to search bomb making on that fancy internet machine either. Doesn’t mean it ain’t dangerous all the same.”
She looked up at him. Her shoulders sunk just slightly.
“You won’t be able to help anyone from prison, lass.”

Amber slowly mover her hands to grab at her arms; a small self hug. The Captain closed the book. Amber could swear she saw it pulse. The room filled with whispers that she couldn’t make sense of; too many voiced layered one over the other. She tightened the grip on her arms and closed her eyes. She felt the Captain’s hand on the back of her head, and the world quieted just a little.

“Amber,” he said. The whispers stopped completely. The noises of the world came back. The cat knocked something off a shelf in another room. The fridge was humming in the kitchen. A car drove by outside. She felt a tear drip down her cheek. She felt a hundred thoughts race through her head.

She felt the gentle sound of a wave crashing against the shore.

Amber opened her eyes and turned to look at the Captain.
“The protesters are getting arrested,” she said. It wasn’t an argument to let her continue. It wasn’t a plea to offer something more. It was her expression of hopelessness that the world had dropped upon her. “People are dying.”
“Aye,” the Captain replied. “So what are you gonna do?”

Amber looked down at the book again. She leaned back and pushed the chair out from under the table. She stood up and adjusted her socks over her prosthesis.
“She wants me to be safe…but I cannot sit here in silence.”
The Captain put his hands on her shoulders. She felt the weight of him like armor, even as he stood behind her.

“You’ll be safe, Lass. Let’s get out there.”