Day Sixteen ∞ Saturday
"WE'VE GOT AN ASSAULT VIC," Corporal Neil said. "Young female."
Detective Patel finished his cup of Joe. "Seriously hurt?"
"Doesn't seem so. Just roughed up and traumatized."
Patel looked across the half busy office. A short black girl sat in the waiting area with her arms around the shoulders of a hunched-up Caucasian brunette.
"She looks familiar, the black girl," he said.
The brunette raised her head a little, rubbing her dirty arm in an obsessive-compulsive manner.
Patel frowned as the recognition slipped away. "Or not... I'll take it. Bring her to Interview Room Two."
"Copy that," Neil said.
Patel got the notepad and pen from his desk. When he reached the room, the two girls were still outside, the brunette shaking her head and stepping away from the door.
"Hey, hey," the short girl said, rubbing the brunette's arms. "It's okay."
The brunette squeezed her elbows to her sides, making herself smaller, her hands half-covering her chin with an occasional tremor. But she allowed the short girl to touch her.
Neil shrugged at Patel and left him to it.
"Afternoon, ladies. I'm Detective Patel—I'll be taking your report. Sooo... how can I help you?"
He studied the victim. He couldn't see her face properly with her head bent, her ruffled bob-cut and bangs hiding most of her face. She looked like she'd had a scuffle on the ground by the dirt on her clothes and the torn sleeve. But he couldn't see any scrapes or bruising. She would have to clean up first.
"Come on," her friend said. "We're here to report those thugs." She tried to touch the brunette's face but she backed another step, shaking her head.
The friend looked at Patel with a shake of her head. "I think she might be claustrophobic."
Patel tried to gain eye contact with the victim, but she shrank away. "Ma'am, is that the problem?"
She hunched herself even more, but she was looking through her thick bangs.
"I'm not sure if she can speak," the friend said. "I dunno. She might be deaf."
"Where did you find her? Have a name or anything?"
"Don't know her. Just heard her cry out when I was going to... um... She was across from the plaza at the riverfront. Next to the construction, ya'know?"
"Did you see anything else? Any signs of abuse? Anything that was out of the ordinary?"
"Two guys running away. Didn't see their faces, but... I heard one say something like... umm..." She stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then an amused look fleeted across her face before she met Patel's gaze again, "Like, 'Trey, let's go'."
"Trey?" he said. "Alright, I'll have Corporal Neil take your complaint."
At the counter, Patel jotted the name on his pad, waved Neil over, and picked up the phone. As soon as Patel heard the voice at the other end, he said, "Dispatch two units to—"
He broke off, a sudden pain cutting through his train of thought. He rubbed his temple.
"Detective? Hello? ... We're not your personal operator, thank you."
Neil came to him as he hung up on the voice. "Weren't you going to call dispatch?" he asked.
"No," Patel frowned, "that won't be necessary."
"Not necessary? You okay? You look off. Want me to take over while you take five?" Neil scrutinized him. "I think there might be a bug going around."
Patel shook off the strange feeling, gathering his thoughts. "No... I'll wrap this up."
The girls were still standing outside the interview room.
Patel bent in front of the victim, making sure to mouth his words distinctly, "You're safe here. I'd like us to sit and talk inside the room. We can leave the door open if you like. I'll wait for you in there, and you can come when you're ready. Is that okay?"
The girl bowed her head further.
"Okay." Patel walked into the room and sat down on the far side of the table. After a few moments, the brunette took hesitant steps through the door, the black girl holding her by the elbow.
"There you go," the friend said, guiding the brunette to the chair nearest to the door.
Patel leaned forward. "Can you tell me your name, where you're from?"
The victim didn't answer. Patel was not entirely certain that she could not hear. Maybe she was just so traumatized that she'd swallowed her tongue. He tried again.
"Your friend said she saw two men running away, one by the name of Trey. Do you know either of them?"
Rubbing herself again, the victim turned her head to the door. Patel waited for her to get back to him as her friend patted her on the shoulder. She jumped up, startled.
"Hey, it's just me—don't worry."
The brunette looked at the dark-skinned hand holding her arm, and sank down on the chair with hunched shoulders. She was clearly not ready to communicate.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Patel said. "You just take your time. Why don't you hang out here a minute. I'll have someone bring you in something. Are you hungry, thirsty?"
This time she shook her head. Patel couldn't tell if it was because she'd been paying attention to his lip movements, or if she could hear.
"Okay. If you need anything just ask."
He left the room to get a can of soda from the vending machine. As he dropped the coins in, the two Feds passed him, talking to each other, "—him roast for another two hours, that should get him on edge," Casserly said. They disappeared into the office they'd taken over as their own.
Patel made his selection and was about to retrieve the soda when the brunette left the interview room with brisk, short steps, rubbing her arm. She seemed to be looking at him as she passed him.
"Miss... I haven't finished with your report." He sighed as he watched her head through the doors.
"I'm sorry," the black girl said as she approached Patel. "I couldn't get her to stay."
"That's understandable, she's obviously traumatized. Get her to drink something sweet." He handed her the soda can. "I'd strongly recommend that you get her to the hospital so she can be checked up and her condition recorded. A nurse will be able to call it in and I'll come to get a statement. Maybe by then your friend will be ready to make a report."
"I'll try to do that. Thanks!" She jogged after the brunette.
Patel watched her exit, absently rubbing his temple.
Another assault vic. He shook his head. Too many allowed the perpetrators to get away. At least he could check whether there was a Trey on file.
∞
Director of Operations O'Malley was in a foul mood. His day had started with the alert that a body matching Dawson's description was found in an empty parking lot in Eufaula, Alabama—and no word on Weaver. As soon as the photo came through the facsimile, he pulled two of his most trusted men Petersen and Barrett off their assignments to fly with him to the lakeside city.
Inspection of the crime scene and the car, and knowing that activities by 'the Storm' had been at a lull here for the past day and a half, eliminated the possibility that an outsider might have been involved. Inspection of the body at the morgue confirmed that.
That left him with one conclusion—Weaver, one of his best operatives, had killed his own partner. It could only mean that Weaver had compromised himself, that he didn't want anybody to see what he was about to do.
As far as anyone in the department knew, Weaver and Dawson had gone dark on a highly classified, non-existent operation, where only the immediate handler would be aware of the purpose. In this case, that was O'Malley himself.
Nobody could know that it was unauthorized, that O'Malley had condoned Weaver's decision to go off the rez with his partner, by keeping Weaver apprised of threats in the area. Nobody knew that he'd wanted his men to continue surveillance of the suspected EBE even though their department had officially been kicked off the mission by Major Sterling of Air Force SOCOM. O'Malley had dangerously and knowingly breached the chain of command just to get a leg up. Bringing the EBE in would have done it for him: rank, position, money. Instead, it had to backfire on him big time.
As if that was not enough, a ghost team of operatives from that unknown agency nicknamed 'Apocalypse' now controlled the entire ET operation. The Storm. It didn't matter what reason Weaver might have had—Weaver needed to die or O'Malley would find himself in the crosshairs of Apoc's employer.
Not to mention Oversight, who'd be asking hard questions.
O'Malley stood in the basement in deep contemplation when he was interrupted by steps approaching on the stairs.
"It's all clear," Barrett said. "The grill outside's been used to burn material. Still warm."
O'Malley was not surprised. The base vacated, all records and recordings destroyed, only the equipment remaining in place.
"Okay, pack this up." The new occupants would never know that this house had been used for surveillance.
Barrett unplugged the recording console for Petersen to carry upstairs to load into their van. As Barrett moved the table to access the cables for the rest of the equipment, a figure moved into one of the indoor feeds.
"D'you still want to go out on the lake?"
"Hold it. Leave that monitor," O'Malley said.
Barrett nodded as he continued working.
The feed showed the subject Danny McGahn entering the kitchen, followed by the suspected ET girl. O'Malley stepped closer, wondering what conclusions Weaver might have drawn.
"Aye, it should be interesting," the girl responded.
"Okay, then we'd better hurry up. The quarterfinals start in an hour. Once they go out, they're not coming back to shore 'til it's finished 'cause Mister Myers usually helps with—" The subject broke off, staring at the girl. Then he seemed to catch himself and touched her arm. "I forgot something. Why don't you pack a couple of apples in the bag? We'll be rushing to catch them so we won't get a chance to buy anything. I'll be right back."
"Okay." The girl disappeared under the camera while the subject left the room.
O'Malley nodded slowly, his eyes tightening with resolve. So the subjects were going to the event at the lake. If Weaver wasn't long gone by now, then that was the perfect place for him to hide in plain sight.
Sorry, Weaver, you've got to go.
∞
Me and my big mouth. Danny muttered to himself as he headed to the garage. They're listening, and I just had to blab my boss's name.
On second thought, it wouldn't make any difference. They already knew where he worked.
He sighed and pulled the doors open, letting the daylight in.
That was when he caught sight of the bulky shape tucked beside the spare on the truck bed. He halted, staring at it. Who had been messing with his tarp? Then he smiled.
Sis must've left it as a surprise. It was so like her to leave something there before he woke up. And he'd totally missed it when he went for her car.
It wasn't until they stopped at the service station to fill the gas tank that he remembered it.
"Mickmi," he said as he unscrewed the cap to the tank and waved for her to come. He grabbed the gas pump and spotted the attendant serving another customer. "Hey, Terry. Busy day, huh?"
"You've got it, Danny."
Mickmi walked around the truck as Danny started filling the tank. He indicated with a nod.
"I think Gina left us a surprise."
She followed his gaze. "Not your sister," she responded.
He gave her a sharp look, left the pump running in the truck and stretched over the side to pull the tarp. It slid off to reveal a large Army bag with shoulder straps and handle.
"What's this?" His brow wrinkled as he reached for the tied end, but Mickmi put a hand on his arm to pause him. He met her gaze.
"Is this what I think it is?" He found a metal loop-clip at the end and pulled the bag open. The barrel of a rifle popped out beside a box and a roll of clothes.
"Shit!" he hissed, recoiling. He couldn't get the thing closed and covered fast enough.
Is he trying to ruin my reputation? First weed, now this!
"I guess I should be—"
"Prepared for the unexpected," Mickmi said, taking the words from his mouth.
"Yeah... Stupid, stupid, I just had to be the curious cat." He tore his eyes off the tarp and looked around for anybody watching them.
Terry was collecting money from another customer and the woman in the car behind them was preoccupied with her makeup. Nobody was paying them any attention.
"He will not be happy."
"No... He won't." Danny sighed. He'd better be prepared for his punishment. He just hoped he wouldn't end up like the cat. "Okay... I'm soon finished here."
Mickmi nodded and returned to the passenger seat.
They rejoined the line of vehicles to drive through town. Danny kept glancing in the rearview mirror, hyper-aware of the armed luggage behind him. The lights up ahead changed and he turned on the left indicator, glancing in the wing mirror. A black sedan had him look again. He swallowed as he rolled the truck into the intersection. "Are we being followed?
Mickmi looked over her shoulder as Danny steered left. "Nay. Not behind us..."
Danny glanced at her as she paused. She had that distant focus on her face.
"They come our way."
He drew a deep breath. As expected, the traffic was even heavier than yesterday with police posted at strategic locations—what should have taken five minutes through the historic district and across Chewalla Creek took fifteen before he turned his truck off the main, heading for the recreation park. They approached the entrance kiosk, passing vehicles parked on the shoulder of the road, including several campers, delivery trucks, and a trailer. People, teenagers, families strolling along the road added to the traffic, chatting, the excitement evident in their voices, unconcerned about the clouds mounting overhead. But to Danny, it felt like the clouds were sending him an ominous message.
As if he weren't already apprehensive about what lay ahead.
"Welcome to the Lake Eufaula Summer Spectacular," the woman at the kiosk said with a bright smile.
"Two tickets, please," he said, pulling out a ten dollar bill.
The woman returned with the tickets and his change. "The regular car parks are full. Go straight, follow the signs to the field on the left."
"Thanks." Danny handed the tickets to Mickmi and met her gaze. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Are you?" she asked with a brief smile. It made him feel a little calmer. How she managed to maintain her serenity still amazed him.
They caught up with the Beetle that crawled ahead of them, bearing right between the baseball field and the woods.
"He is here," Mickmi said, alert.
Danny scanned the people passing his truck but didn't see anybody he recognized. They passed a group of boisterous truckers, then Danny had to brake again. The line of vehicles moved in spurts as the next car way ahead at the front was directed to a parking spot.
"This is going to take some time," he said and startled at the sound of two thumps on Mickmi's side. Outside her window, a dirty Kenworth trucker's hat tipped low over a two-day-old stubble. An olive drab US Army blouse hung loose to reveal a checkered shirt.
"Move over." A slight lift of the head revealed Atlas's steel-gray eyes as he threw a sharp glance around. Mickmi slid into the middle seat as Atlas opened the door and climbed in. "Turn right."
Danny looked ahead, mentally directing his heart to return to his chest. The sign at the entrance to the concealed parking lot said, 'Parking lot full,' but he held his tongue.
As they rolled between the two rows of cars, Atlas scanned in every direction and said, "Park at the end. See that cream Olds over there? Get in the back seat."
Atlas jumped out of the truck as soon as Danny reversed into the space next to the exit.
"Wait until they're gone," Atlas said through the window before he retrieved the bag from the back and retreated between the vehicles and the woods. Three teenagers jogged past them to a car parked in the facing row.
Danny met Mickmi's gaze and reached over to adjust the scarf over her collar. He glanced at the teens as they retrieved an Igloo and other items from their car.
"This is for good luck. For both of us," he said, cradling her face and kissed her, long and slow. He felt her smile against his lips, and she placed her hand on his chest. He eased back, letting their foreheads rest against each other, and drew a deep breath, "Okay. Let's do this."
She nodded, got out and shouldered her sling bag as he reached for his knapsack behind the seat. He was about to get out when he remembered his Swiss army knife. He retrieved it from the glove compartment, then rejoined Mickmi as he kept an eye on the teens leaving the parking lot.
With a mutual nod, Danny and Mickmi walked to the Oldsmobile Cutlass sedan two cars down. As soon as they got into the backseat, the door to the driver's side opened.
"Put your head in his lap," Atlas said to Mickmi and got behind the wheel.
Mickmi complied, but Danny's attention was on Atlas. He leaned sideways to see Atlas tearing wires out from underneath the dashboard and start the car.
So the adventure begins.
The words came unbidden to Danny's mind. He felt Mickmi's head nod on his lap in response, and he found himself smiling. He met her gaze as she looked up at him, and he put his arm around her.
We'll get through this somehow.
It was like crawling through a sea of bodies, faces. Danny averted his gaze when somebody looked at the car. When he recognized a face, he turned to Mickmi in his lap. They passed his old school. Before he knew it, they were headed north on the main road. Then Atlas turned into the car park for the department store where Danny had bought clothes for Mickmi.
That felt like eons ago.
He gave her two pats as Atlas parked the car and sat silent for a while. She sat up with her eyes on Atlas and suddenly held Danny's arm. Danny looked at her curiously.
"What?" he said and was startled by a movement in the front seat.
Atlas's eyes drilled into Danny. "Let's get something straight," he said and grabbed Danny by the hair, forcing him into the front seat backrest. Danny winced, heart in his throat, struggling to get Atlas to loosen his grip. Mickmi's other hand shot out to grab Atlas's wrist, but Atlas ignored her and leaned closer to Danny's ear.
"Don't ever fucking presume that you can touch anything that belongs to me."
"S–sorry... I thought..." Danny gritted his teeth, twisting to get his face out of the musty leatherette.
"Atlas," Mickmi said.
"Necessary or not, I will kill you," Atlas said releasing Danny's hair with a shove. "Keep that in mind for next time."
Danny massaged his scalp. "I could say the same thing about my tarp," he said through his teeth. "Ever thought of asking for permission?"
Atlas tightened his eyes on him. "Kid... You have no clue of the world you're living in. I can take anything from you that I want. And these people you're messing with—they will make your entire family disappear with no consequence. But not before inflicting the worst pain imaginable, just to make sure they know nothing. So shut the fuck up and don't ever challenge me again. Are we clear?"
Oh no, not torture! "Like crystal..." Danny muttered.
"Atlas." Mickmi's tone was sharp. Danny looked at her in surprise—she had a firm grip on Atlas's wrist again, locking eyes with him.
"Daniel is not separate from me. Your mission to help me is equal to helping him. I said this once—I expect this to be the last time. You shall not – hurt – my friend. Threaten him – not – with violence."
"Yeah, well... whatever, princess." Atlas looked at her hand and back at her, waiting.
After a moment, she straightened herself and withdrew her hand. Atlas's gaze slid from one to the other before he dropped back into his seat and opened the door to get out.
Mickmi turned to Danny, the anger fading from her face. She lifted her palm to cup his cheek, but Danny took her hand in his.
"Don't," he said with a wry smile. "Save your energy—I can take a little pain. I'm fine."
She tilted her head as she regarded him. "Okay."
"I think we're changing cars," he said, looking past her through the window.
As if on cue, Atlas jimmied open the door of the car beside them and reached for the trunk release lever. Danny and Mickmi transferred into the back seat while Atlas got his bag from the Olds. Then they were on the move again.
— ∞ —
©2017 by kemorgan65