THE OVERWHELMING STINK and noise of a city hit Alex like an ocean wave, rising up slowly and then engulfing her. She had to fight her initial reaction to go back to Verus's tent, back home, her revulsion making the final moments of the transition feel shaky. She clung to needing Mikey and the world around her solidified, the ground under her feet hardening as the air temperature dropped.
Alex finally opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a perfect location. Holy shit, she thought, not quite believing her good luck at being in an alley between apartment buildings. The overhead light was out and there was a nearby clothes line with a seemingly forgotten load of laundry. Alex studied the alley, memorizing every detail, so that she could come straight to Verus's tent if required. She quickly grabbed a pair of cargo pants, a heavy pull-over shirt, and a hooded, wool sweater off the clothes line, making a mental note to leave money on her way out of town. She wasn't going to waste time returning what she'd taken.
She crammed the stolen clothes into her satchel – best to not hang around to change – and started walking towards the loudest street noises. A line of dumpsters gave her enough cover to change clothes, her caligae and the way she had her hair the only odd things about her appearance now. The satchel just made her look like a 'yuppie', as her American clients would say. Alex transferred the aureus from her cloak to separate pockets in the pants, considered the oversized fit of the clothes for a second, then undid her hair and used the leather strip as a belt. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a dark window and realized she looked like her momma in the old photos from when she was working at the universities. That was good.
Memorizing her route as she went, Alex went a few blocks and was relieved that few people took notice of her. She must be in a larger city where strangers were normal. In less than an hour she found a pawn broker, and after two hours had verified and hocked one of the aureus. When Alex wasn't able to produce any identification papers, the broker had wanted to call the police. Then Alex had asked for approximately half the resale value, seven thousand euro per the website he'd looked up the coin on, with just a receipt and no loan ticket. As there was nobody else in the shop, and he knew the safe combination, he'd agreed.
The broker made a point of watching exactly where Alex stashed the money while fidgeting with his mobile phone, so she noted there was a seven-day shift roster beside the register and let him stand overly close for a moment. She hit him as hard as she needed to, knocking him unconscious, and dragged him to the storage cage in the back. Making sure there were no phones around him or on him, she took his wallet and keys, locked him in the cage, and then locked his items in the cash register.
In less than a minute she found the manager's office and disconnected the security recorder. Alex set the recorder on one of the storage shelves with two other matching units, and switched one of the ticket number stickers to the recorder she'd just disconnected. She left the single coin she'd hocked beside the register key on the desk, on top of the store copy of her receipt, and locked the office door on her way out. She turned off the lights and switched the sign hanging on the door to 'Closed', smiling and nodding to the few people that wished her good evening as she pretended to lock the door.
Needing a passport or a visa for a hotel, Alex stopped at a chain restaurant that usually hadn't made her feel too sick and felt sick by the time she was done eating anyway. She bought a pre-paid mobile phone from the first store she passed that sold them and then went looking for a church. Most didn't offer asylum, but some hosted shelters, and that would be safer – and warmer – than sleeping on the street. She got lucky was given good directions to a nearby shelter, and the shelter still had a couple open beds.
A couple of well-meaning volunteers tried to start conversations with her, but she didn't engage and they wandered away with supportive smiles. Alex gave the few dried dates and nuts she'd packed to a little girl whose mom had a black eye, then gave the mom the biscuit, cheese, and other dried fruit. They didn't look like they'd had dinner and were both grateful as they went back to their cots. Still not sure what to say, Alex sat on her cot and dialed Mikey's mobile number. She shrugged to herself and tapped the green call button.
"Da?" Mikey's voice answered after the second ring, barely heard over the club track.
"Really, Mike," Alex replied in Russian. "How many times have I told you not to answer if you don't recognize the number?" Alex listened to the loud music as Mikey's breathing grew hard.
"This isn't.... Who are you?" Mikayla demanded, her voice shaking. "This isn't funny."
"It's Alex, Mikey, for real," Alex didn't know what else to say. The music got louder and then faded out to background noise as Mikey moved to a quieter place.
"Bullshit," the accusation was clear. "Alex has been missing for three months, and the banks are –"
"What are you doing at a nightclub, Mikayla?" Alex interrupted. "Are you there with Larry? I told you to stay away from him, he'll rufie you."
"Holy shit. Alex," she sounded like she'd just been punched in the gut. "Where have you been?" she suddenly shouted. "I've been worried sick! I thought you were dead! What have you been doing that you couldn't even –"
"I need your help," Alex interrupted the tirade. She couldn't stop grinning. Mikayla had always tried to be a good friend, even though Alex hadn't been good at being one. She didn't realize how much she'd missed Mikey until she got an earful of angry Russian.
"You need my..." Mikayla sounded incredulous. "You disappear for three and a half months and you call now because you need my help?" She was shouting again.
"I found my dad," Alex replied, and Mikey held off in silence. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I really am. I need help and I don't have anyone else I can ask."
Mikey sighed. Alex could picture her, leaning against the sink in some generic discotheque bathroom, rubbing her temple with her free hand. She'd be wearing something that had either sequins or sparkles across the front, her blond hair would be getting messy from dancing, her shoes would be killer heels that most women only dreamed of having the balance to walk in, and she'd barely have any makeup because then she didn't have to worry about sweaty touch-ups. At forty-three, she'd still look better than any other women there.
"Of course I'll help if I can," Mikey relented. "What do you need?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Alex scoffed a quiet laugh. "And you're still going to think I'm crazy."
"So tell me," Mikey said flatly.
"We have to talk in person. I don't have ID anymore, so I can't travel. If I could I'd be calling from the nearest airport and telling you when to pick me up. Just a second, I'll send my coordinates." Alex switched over to the pre-written message and hit send. There were just the thuds of the muted nightclub music on Mikey's end of the call when Alex put the phone back to her ear.
"What are you doing there?" Mikey finally asked. "And how are you expecting me to get there? I have work on Monday."
"Remember when you came and spent that week with me at the cabin?"
"That was last Christmas, Alex."
"Yeah, whatever." Alex easily pictured Mikayla rolling her eyes. "But on the way back to work, you and I were talking on the train and you said that you wished you could just walk away from everything, remember?"
"Of course," Mikey's voice sounded small.
"If you agree to come here, and by some miracle you decide to help, then this is probably a one-way trip. I can't promise to get you back. But you will make a difference," Alex waited, and then grinned. "And you might even get that Mediterranean villa you always wanted." Mikayla was quiet for a while.
"It'll take me a couple days to get there. I'll have to book vacation and –"
"Just climb in Larry's big helicopter and fly down," Alex interrupted, relief flooding over her that Mikey was even considering coming. "Brent can fly the small one if any of the guys get hurt, and the big one has everything. Sooner is better, and a flying hospital is what we need."
"You're making this sound like life or death," Mikey stated.
"Why else do you think I'd call like this?" Alex listened as Mikey heaved a sigh that ended with a disbelieving laugh.
"I honestly never thought you'd call again."
"After the past three months, me either."
"So we're going on an adventure." Alex could hear Mikey's grin. This wasn't the first time she'd talked Mikey into going off into what was – for the older woman – the unknown, but weekend camping was going to be little help for what Alex would ask.
"You bet your ass," Alex responded with her usual reply. "Wear things you don't like because we'll have to burn our clothes. We can't take any electronics or modern gadgets. You'll need whatever we can carry for triaging wounded and treating infections, minus the splints, gauzes and stitching threads; I've got access to that already. I don't have refrigeration or decent medicine, so the meds you bring for treating sepsis have to be okay for non-refrigerated storage, unless you have a way to keep them outside without freezing."
"Are you in some kind of cult?" Mikey asked, her tone gearing up for a full chastising. Alex burst out laughing, drawing startled and angry glares from other patrons in the shelter that were starting to fall asleep.
"They're more like a foreign Legion," Alex replied, still chuckling.
"Oh ..." Mikey's whisper dropped off. "Did your dad join a secret mercenary group? Is that why we have to talk in person?" Alex grinned wider. Mikayla was forever reading whatever trashy books clients left behind.
"Mikey, you are one crappy novel away from a tinfoil hat, and I love that so much right now. Please ditch Larry at the nightclub, don't tell him or book vacation, just hop in the big helicopter and fly down here?"
"I'm not... why do you think I'm here with Larry? I could have a boyfriend, for all you know. I don't have to be here with our boss."
"Don't wear anything you like when you come down, no meds that need refrigeration, and don't drink anything from Larry, he'll rufie you," Alex repeated the instructions, chewing at her lip. "Just get here quick."
"Alex?" Mikayla's voice was worried. "Please tell me you're okay?"
"I wish I could." Alex listened to the beat change as a new song started. "I can only stay two days. Contact me at this number; I picked a mobile up for while I'm here. I have some money so I won't get hungry, and I need to do some research so I'll be snug at the nearest library tomorrow."
"Where are you sleeping if you have no papers?"
"At a shelter," Alex said, and heard Mikey inhale sharply. "At a good shelter; they have security at the door."
"What about tomorrow night?" Mikey asked.
"I'll find another safe place tomorrow. This isn't my first time wandering, Mikey."
"And now I'm coming with you," Alex could hear Mikayla smiling again.
"Only if you agree," Alex replied. "But you have to know the situation first. I'm not taking you without full disclosure." Mikayla laughed at the other end of the connection.
"You could tell me we're going to the moon and I'd follow you after that lead-in."
"Thank you, Mikayla."
"Da. See you soon."
Mikayla hung up without saying anything else, but the music blared through before the mobile went silent. Alex tucked the phone into the satchel and held the bag close. Mikey was coming, and everything would be okay.