Dusk

by Romig, Aleatha

  Sparrow leaned against the wall near the windows that opened to the same balcony where the kidnappers entered. He crossed his arms over his chest. While Laurel had been bundled in a sweater, long pants, and socks, with the open windows and doors, Sparrow, like the rest of us was wearing jeans and short sleeves, perceivably unaffected by the cooling air. “This was planned.”

  I nodded. “But when? I haven’t been able to determine when the canister was placed.”

  “Fuck,” Mason said. “It could have been there for a while, waiting for the right time.”

  I looked at Mason. “How? How was someone not detected placing it?”

  “The fucking house sits empty more than it’s occupied.” He took a deep breath and turned my way. “But you’re right. We have no way of knowing when. We need to go back and search for missing time. It wouldn’t have taken long to place.”

  “No,” Sparrow said as he stepped away from the wall. “One day I’ll give a fuck about when the canister was planted. Today isn’t that day. We’re done looking back. We need to proceed with looking forward. The ducts have been searched thoroughly. We know there aren’t more. Right now, we need to determine who masterminded this in advance, who placed the canister, who activated it, and why. We also, and more importantly, need to get Araneae and Lorna home.” His muscles pulled tight, veins and tendons popping to life in his neck. “Give me a goddamned ransom. I’ll pay, and then I’ll make fucking sure the kidnappers suffer for touching my family.”

  The program I’d started was responding. “What kind of dwellings are we looking for?” I asked as I began to set the perimeters on the search.

  Sparrow and Mason began spewing specifics—abandoned storefronts, warehouses, barns...

  “Tomorrow,” Mason said, “we can take my plane up. It only holds one other passenger. We can do a visual of this property and the neighboring properties.”

  “Something is bothering me,” Patrick said as he stared at the maps.

  “Just one thing?” I asked.

  He turned to me. “Can you, with confidence, say the canister that was found was not placed today prior to the kidnapping?”

  “One hundred percent,” I replied.

  “In the last week?”

  “I need to do some more searches, but yes. The only missing time since we arrived on this ranch with the ladies was the missing time earlier today.”

  Patrick looked at Mason. “They weren’t after Araneae and Lorna. You were the target.”

  Mason’s eyes closed and opened before he slowly nodded.

  “But,” Patrick interjected, “think about it. They took two women. They had to know you weren’t one of them.”

  My heart began to beat faster. “Unless you weren’t the target,” I said to Mason as I stood. “Not you, but...”

  “Laurel,” we all said together.

  Lorna

  My grasp of the metal frame tightened, and I willed my pulse to calm as heavy footsteps entered the cell. My mind told me to tip my chin upward and try to see but to see what? I’d already seen the jeans and boots, and the slacks and shoes. My breath caught in my chest as the stale stench returned, the footsteps stilled, and the bunk bed shook.

  Before I could speak, the sound of moaning filled the cell.

  “Araneae?”

  The footsteps moved toward the door, their bearer void of any explanation. It didn’t take long, a second or less, till it closed and the locking mechanism clicked. My breath came forward in a gust as I ripped the blindfold from my eyes and saw my friend lying upon the bottom bunk. “Araneae.”

  She didn’t speak as I moved to her. Her eyes were closed, and her knees drawn upward. Her hands were over her midsection as her facial features contorted. Her skin glistened with perspiration.

  I sat on the edge of the bunk and gently smoothed her long blonde hair away from her face. “Araneae, I’m here. It’s Lorna.”

  Her head moved ever so slightly from side to side, yet she didn’t utter a word.

  I began to scan from her head to her toes, taking in any exposed skin. While contorted in an unusual way, her face was clear of abuse. There were no reddened areas, bruises, or lacerations. As I continued to smooth her hair and speak softly, tears fell from her closed eyes, like small streams, making their way to the pillow beneath her head.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Did they hurt you?”

  Her presence combined with silence was more deafening than when I’d been alone.

  It was then I noticed the two water bottles lying upon the floor near the door. I hadn’t heard them as they were dropped, but my attention had been on the man’s steps and the squeak coming from the bunk bed as he’d laid Araneae down.

  I hurried to gather the bottles and brought them back to the bunk bed. In the split second I’d been gone, Araneae had begun to shiver. Instead of struggling with the covers she was lying upon, I returned the bottles again to the floor, reached for the covers on the top bunk, and pulled the thin blanket from the mattress. Next, I covered her from her chin to her toes, tucking the edges around her to help retain her warmth. Through it all, her eyes stayed closed.

  Her expression had eased as if she had fallen into a much-needed sleep. I wanted to tell myself that was all that this was. Araneae was exhausted and to combat that state, her body needed sleep.

  Next, I pulled the top bunk pillow down and moved her into a more inclined position. The last thing I tried was the water. After first ensuring that the bottles had been sealed, I opened one and brought the spout to her mouth. “Come on, Araneae. You need to drink.”

  I tilted the bottle until the liquid reached her lips. That was as far as it went. She didn’t move or acknowledge my assistance. The water flowed from her lips down her chin.

  “It’s all right,” I soothed as I sopped it with the blanket. “Sleep first and drink later.”

  Though her skin felt warm, her body trembled beneath the blanket. Getting up, I went to the sink and saturated a thin washcloth with cold water from the faucet. Squeezing out the excess, I folded the cloth and took it back to Araneae. I placed it on her forehead and looked around our cell. The supplies were limited at best.

  Unsure what else to do with what I had, I took a small sip of the water, wanting to save most if it for her, and again sat on the mattress beside her. After a few minutes, I stretched out on the few inches of space beside her. With my head next to hers on the pillow, I wrapped one arm over her and softly spoke.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” Though she didn’t respond, I imagined her voice full of zeal and joy. I pretended to hear her determination in the way she voiced her power as queen of Chicago.

  “I do,” I said, “like I’ve said several times, I was nervous about your arrival, and then when you did arrive, you were like you are now.” I took a ragged breath. “No, you were unconscious, but then it was because someone tried to hurt you. Now, you’re only tired.”

  I worked to slow my breathing. “That first morning, Sparrow carried you down to the kitchen.” I smirked at the memory. “He was all caveman. Even though you were weak from whatever had happened, you were still strong and spunky. In only a few minutes, my worries about you disappeared. And then later that day, you called me. He’d left strict instructions that you were to remain upstairs.” My smile grew bigger. “But he forgot to inform you of his supreme authoritarian power. Or...” I turned toward Araneae, saw her closed eyes, and heard her even breaths. “Or maybe you didn’t care. Maybe you already knew you had him wrapped around your little finger.” I moved my hand down, momentarily over her midsection. “Just like this baby will. If she’s a girl, God help us. Sparrow is a goner. If he’s a boy, he’ll need you to be the mom Sparrow never had.” I looked back at her closed eyes. “Anyway, on with my story, you wanted your laptop.

  “Gosh, that was three years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I’m not sure Sparrow knew. No, I’m sure he didn’t. I think we told you...a little, but the truth was that
all of us—Reid, Patrick, and I—we were all rooting for you. We were on your side from day one, even though we knew Sparrow better. It wasn’t that we were rooting against him.” I tried to articulate my thoughts. “It was that you were and are who is best for him.

  “You see, there have only really been two people that I know of who can dish shit out to your husband unfiltered and get away with it.”

  I thought back to the very beginning, to nine years ago.

  “I never knew his father, the man who ran Sparrow Enterprises and the Sparrow we’re not supposed to talk about, before Sterling...” I let his name hang in the air. While Madeline and Laurel called him by his first name, I was of the old group. To me he was Sparrow. “I don’t know how his father talked to him.” I rolled on my back and stared up at the top bunk. “I know his mother.” My voice grew a bit louder. “You are not what she had planned. And that may be another reason we’re all on your side.

  “But as I was saying, two people...Mason was and is one. But after Mason...” I swallowed. “...left us for a while, there wasn’t anyone who threw shit back at him. Patrick is all about diplomacy. He will disagree with Sparrow, but he does it in a way that is nonconfrontational. Reid is usually quiet. He isn’t against voicing his opinion when necessary, but it isn’t the way Mace does.” I turned back to her. “Or you.”

  I lay still for a moment, my mind filling with memories, ones that took me away from this cool cell.

  “The elevator. We weren’t joking. Reid, Patrick, and I had a bet going.”

  Araneae moved her head from side to side. “No...” The word was barely audible.

  I sat upward. “Araneae.”

  Her face was again in a grimace, but there were no more movements or sounds.

  Suddenly, I considered what could have happened to her in the hours she was out of this room. Despite her chill, I stood and peeled back the blanket that I’d wrapped around her. My mind and body cooled with fear of what I’d discover.

  Who had us captive?

  What kind of an animal would hurt a pregnant woman?

  Even if someone could forget her affiliation with Sterling Sparrow, she was carrying a child within her.

  I held my breath as I scanned her now-prone body—no longer were her knees pulled up. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the bottom hem of her shirt. Her soft pants came to the middle of her baby bump. Her bra was in place. Nothing looked abnormal.

  “Araneae, I’m going to turn you.”

  If only she would have protested. She didn’t.

  Closing my eyes, I said a prayer to the God my grandmother served. She daily talked to him in prayer. Now it was my turn. I asked him for a miracle. I asked him to keep Araneae and her child safe. I even offered him a payment in return.

  With my eyes still closed, I tilted my chin upward and spoke in a whisper. “Keep her baby safe, and I don’t need to ever have my own.”

  The offer was said. I couldn’t take it back. I wouldn’t because I meant it.

  With the new pregnancies in our extended family, Reid and I had discussed the subject, one that had never been on the table in the past. To my surprise, we were both willing and excited. I thought of the sister I helped raise, the one we’d lost. I found myself thinking about my own child.

  Each month I told myself it took time for the birth control to get out of my system. And yet with Madeline’s news, and then Araneae’s, I still felt joy like I couldn’t describe.

  Yes, I would offer my future children to keep this one safe. I’d do the same for Madeline and Patrick’s. Without a doubt, I’d do the same for Ruby.

  Opening my eyes, I moved my friend, fearful of what I’d find. As I turned her on her side, I exhaled. The blood I’d feared I’d find was nonexistent.

  She moaned as she settled on her side, facing the wall.

  I covered her again with the blanket and climbed back onto the bed. With my pulse thumping in my ears, I whispered, “We can rest now. But since I gave you my blanket and pillow, you’re going to have to put up with me.”

  After taking another swig of the water, I closed my eyes. My emotions counterbalanced one another. I’d meant what I said. I’d give up my future children to keep Araneae’s child safe. I wasn’t certain God was in the dealmaking business.

  If he was, I’d keep my word.

  “I have one additional request,” I whispered to the Supreme Being. “Please get us home.”

  With my arm again around my friend, I finally drifted off to sleep.

  Lorna

  The tower – nine years ago

  I looked around Mason’s apartment with a heavy heart. It seemed impossible that after spending most of our lives together, there were still too many things we’d left unsaid. For the last week, since I’d learned of my brother’s death, I’d cried more tears than I knew were possible. I’d spent long nights and endless days, grieving and also going through his things as more tears streamed down my cheeks.

  Probably the most difficult was the trip to the coroner. I don’t know if I could have made it alone. I do know. I wouldn’t have made it. I wouldn’t have stayed upright without the support of his friends. Reid was there, holding my hand. Patrick was there, a steady shoulder to take my tears. Even Mr. Sparrow was there, silently emanating his remorse and growing need for vengeance.

  Mason’s body was unidentifiable.

  The man I’d known since my first breath was no longer who I remembered.

  The story I’d heard about the explosion that took my brother made him out to be the hero he’d always been to me. He walked into a building near the docks because the Sparrows had received a call about a shipment.

  Before this incident, I didn’t really know what the Sparrows did or what their quest involved.

  This was different. Reid decided I deserved more. He told me the details he’d learned from Sparrow. The call said there was a shipment of young girls. Yes, human beings. I wasn’t naive enough to live as a single woman and not understand or comprehend the dangers of human trafficking. I’d heard rumors and taken precautions. As I aged, I wondered about my sister’s fate.

  Had she at one time been a young girl in a shipment?

  Mason didn’t enter the building to move the girls along the franchise line. He went in that building to rescue them. From Reid’s recollection, Sparrow wanted to do it himself. It was Mason who refused to let him. The only man to tell Sparrow no, he’d used that power. He’d saved the kingpin of Chicago and solidified the Sparrow takeover.

  In the process, the building exploded.

  Reid said that Sparrow ran in.

  He didn’t need to tell me that detail. I saw the burns on his hands and the scorched flesh on his cheeks. I saw the eyebrows and eyelashes that were just now beginning to grow back. His visible wounds were superficial: his heart and mindset were where the true battle injuries occurred.

  From what I’d heard, I wasn’t prepared for the body we were shown in the morgue.

  The burns weren’t like Sparrow’s. Mason’s were extensive.

  In the mass destruction, I found solace in the knowledge that he passed quickly.

  I couldn’t comprehend the pain that would be involved in surviving.

  The personal possessions I was given sealed his identity. They were undeniably Mason’s.

  Sparrow left the next decision to me.

  What was I to do with the boy turned man who had always been my rock, my lifelong confidant, and my sibling?

  Through Reid, I was told no expense would be spared. I was also informed about the explosion, the coup, and the trafficking. I couldn’t be responsible for putting my brother’s best friends on display. There would be no celebration of life, no military salute, no funeral, and no burial with a headstone. While my brother deserved all of those, the war in Chicago was still in motion. I chose instead to have my brother cremated.

  The urn was small, but it was something.

  It was more than I had of Missy.

  Nothing was said ab
out my place in this world now that I was without Mason.

  And while Reid had been loving and supportive, we were never alone. Mason was always there, glaring at us as he had the night he died, the last night Reid and I made love, and the night I learned what Sparrow meant when he said to not go anywhere.

  The elevators won’t work.

  The celebration of life wasn’t necessary. Besides the men in this tower, there was only one other person I felt the need to inform of my brother’s demise.

  It wasn’t our mother.

  Hell, I wasn’t sure she hadn’t preceded her son in death. If she hadn’t, I had no way of contacting her.

  There was one person, someone whom Mason had loved a long time ago. I hadn’t thought of her in years until I found a box of letters he’d never bothered to mail. It seemed that for all of my brother’s toughness and aloofness, he had a soft spot for a girl from our childhood. Her father volunteered at a Boys and Girls Club near our apartment. He was a doctor and counselor, and always supportive. She was a blue-eyed girl who came from much more than we had. Yet she never acted that way. She was always kind. There was a time I considered her a friend. And then life happened.

  Mason went off to the army, Laurel went to college, our mother left for the final time, and I moved on.

  Yesterday, using the information on the last letter Mason had written, I asked Reid to help me find her current address. She lived in Indiana, not far and yet a lifetime away. I wrote the only letter to tell anyone about Mason’s death. I didn’t share details, only that he was gone and he’d never forgotten her. I hesitated but then decided to sign my name.

  Reid promised the correspondence would get delivered. He said the USPS was too risky. He didn’t want to take the chance that I could be found. What he didn’t know was that I wouldn’t. I’d soon be gone.

  I woke three days ago to an airline ticket and information on an apartment in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. Being the birthplace of William Shakespeare, it was a tourist town, one where I was sure to be able to find a job. I could clean bed and breakfasts or wait tables. My apartment was paid in full for a year and along with the airline ticket, there was an envelope filled with over a thousand of both American dollars and British pounds. There was also information to a bank account in my name, in Warwick, with fifty thousand pounds.