Theta by Lizzy Ford Page B

needed to use
some common sense.
    I nudged the door open and examined the
three-room cottage quickly. Menelaus owned few possessions. The
cottage contained minimal furniture, fit for one occupant, few
decorations and no pictures anywhere. It was neat and clean despite
the three dogs who circled the living space and promptly piled onto
the couch acting as the only sitting space, aside from a rocking
chair.
    I went to the bedroom off the main room and
carefully set Menelaus down. I straightened and debated leaving. He
shifted with a pain-filled grimace. With nothing left to do this
day, except wait on the beach, I sat on the edge of the bed. His
eyes were dark again in the relative shadows of the house. I noted
the change without understanding why it occurred.
    “ What hurts?” I
asked.
    “ My knee.” Menelaus bent to
pull up the leg of his pants. “Doesn’t look too bad.”
    I frowned and reached out to straighten the
man’s leg. The kneecap was off to one side, and the bony man’s knee
was swollen thicker than his thigh.
    “ It’s bad,” I
said.
    “ You a doctor?” Menelaus
squinted at me.
    “ Not exactly.” As the head
of the SISA interrogation program, I knew as much about anatomy as
most doctors for the purpose of learning how to manipulate or
otherwise cause pain to the human body. I also recognized the
extent of damage done, in order to gauge how much more the person
could stand or how much more pressure was necessary for the desired
results.
    Menelaus didn’t need to know anything other
than I was aware of how badly he was hurt.
    I rose. “I’ll get some ice,” I said.
    “ I wouldn’t want to keep
you from the beach.”
    I said nothing. I crossed to the tiny
kitchen and the fridge that came up only to my shoulder. I wrapped
ice in a towel from the sink and returned to Menelaus.
    “ I have pain pills in the
bathroom,” the old man said and accepted the ice.
    I retrieved the bottle and a glass of water.
The knee looked bad enough for a trip to the hospital, which wasn’t
an option since the Holy Wars destroyed most medical centers.
    One of the dogs scratched at the front door.
I opened it to let him out then stepped into the late morning. I
could understand why Menelaus wasn’t interested in giving up his
home. From this perch on the rocks, the sea stretched out in three
directions. In the far distance was the smudge of land on the
horizon. The rocking of waves against the base of the slope below
was peaceful, and the sea air was cool.
    I stood at the top of the shallow cliff
running ten meters down to the sea and breathed in deeply. I had
come too far to return without finding what I sought. Isolated here
across the world, I had no access to the internet or television to
learn what was happening in DC. Restless, I tried to recall some
details of my past that might aid me in finding the plaque Artemis
sent me to find.
    I circled the cottage to discover a small
vegetable, herb, and fruit garden on the other side. The dog
trotted back inside, and I followed.
    “ Menelaus, I’m going back
to …” I trailed off as I reached the door to the old man’s
bedroom.
    Menelaus was sound asleep. One of his dogs
had leapt onto the bed and knocked the ice pack off.
    I straightened it and lingered. How had
someone this old, and in this shape, survived out here on his own
for five years? My guardian instincts stirred. As the warden of a
kingdom, and a protector for the gods’ temples, I had spent most of
my life in the role of protector. If ever anyone needed a guardian,
it was the feeble old man snoring peacefully in his bed.
    I closed the door to the bedroom and went to
the living area. It was too cramped for my preference, so I propped
the front door open and went to sit on the cliff overlooking the
ocean. Hours stretched between now and when dusk fell and I could
dive beneath the surface of the sea to search for the ruins of a
four thousand year old kingdom.
    One of Menelaus’ dogs joined me, and I