by Rimmy London
He propped me back on my feet, looking a little guilty. “Sorry, but…” He stopped with a gust of breath. “Who knows where today will end.”
I smiled, “Don’t apologize—just promise me you’ll kiss me like that even when we aren’t about to die.”
His lips pressed together, and whether he felt like laughing or arguing I couldn’t tell. He glanced across my face for a moment, studying it. “I promise.” He said seriously.
And just like that, the moment was over. We both turned to the building that we couldn’t ignore. The infamous Guadalupe as I had called it—the first Shellbrook. No doubt Marco had been the brains in the construction. It had his drab realism written all over it.
Givanni tapped my hand, leaning his head toward our only hope of cover. A couple scraggly trees flanked the building, with a padlocked door directly behind them. We pushed off the grass together and more than once Givanni glanced back with surprise on his face. I guessed that I hadn’t been so stealthy before.
We settled under the skeletal trees, hugging the concrete. Producing a long pick, Givanni winked before placing it in the lock. I almost glared, wishing he wouldn’t do that. It was hard to concentrate when he constantly melted any chance of a functioning brain.
He pulled the door open with a horrifying screech and we both froze. The growth of grass underneath made it impossible to open any farther. With my heart pounding, I squeezed in the narrow gap after him. He didn’t bother trying to close the obnoxious thing, and I wondered at the bright ray of sunshine streaming through the otherwise dark interior—it would surely be noticed. But Givanni didn’t seem to care, and with another glance outside I continued on.
We’d entered a maintenance tunnel with a web of pipes above that snaked off in every direction. For a moment we only listened. Cold wind filtered through the space in waves, drying the perspiration on my skin.
Silence.
“Okay,” Givanni whispered. “At the end of this tunnel, we should find a good access point. Usually, this space remains empty—no guards, but I wouldn’t really count on anything at this point. I’m sure we’ve shaken them up a bit.”
I nodded, peering down the tunnel and anxious to move. We started forward, reaching the back of the building quick enough. At the end of the hallway, pipes from overhead shot straight into the ground. Givanni handed me his gun and pointed back the way we’d come before sliding his small pack to the ground.
I settled down on one knee and rested the gun atop the other. Glancing back as often as I dared, I watched Givanni fill a plastic canister scattered with holes. He packed it with a fuzzy grey material, pulling pieces through a few of the holes. With a torch he burned a small, round stick, his face glowing in the firelight. The object, whatever it was, smoldered proudly. Securing a mesh net under the it, he twisted the top on.
Givanni held the torch to the pipe, and I jumped—the sound echoed loudly. If anyone were down the corridors, they would hear it. The light reflected off the floor in front of us and I flinched more than once when an especially dark shadow would flutter across my view. Firelight was a tricky thing.
But when a dark shape came from the back of the hallway, there was no second guessing it. The huge shadow ran forward, but I couldn’t shoot. Something wasn’t right—he wore a suit coat, and not a single worker on the island had worn one of those. He came to a stop just outside of the light.
I could tell Givanni had turned with the way he bumped my side, but the torch continued to slice through the pipe until it stopped with a crack. Givanni pulled the square piece of pipe away and dropped the canister in.
The stranger took a step forward. “No! What are you doing?!” He yelled, with one hand outstretched. I gasped, but not nearly as hard as Givanni. In one movement he was on his feet, whipping the gun from my hands and aiming.
I reached for the torch and lifted it in front of me—It really was him.
“Marco,” Givanni breathed, almost choking on the words. “How completely unexpected it is to see you here. Let me just ask you one question.” His paused, pulling in a steadying breath. “How long have you been on this island?” Metal creaked against metal as Givanni tightened his grip. “Did you know I was here?”
And although he raised his hands defensively, Marco stood firm. His breath was gusting and he leaned over to look at the pipe. “My boy, you can always trust me. But this—we need to get out of here!”
“Save it, Marco!” Givanni bellowed, clearly not caring about stealth any longer. “You know as well as I that those tanks are empty. Tell me what you’re doing here!”
Marco wiped one arm across his face. “I will—I will tell you everything. Starting with Manwell. But my nephew, those tanks were never drained.”
Givanni’s face was white when he looked back at me, and time turned in slow motion at the hissing sound of air escaping. There was a flickering light from inside the pipe before sparks began pouring from the opening, bouncing off the static electricity. “Go, go, go!” Givanni yelled, pulling me to my feet. The ground shook below us like it might open up altogether.
“This way!” Marco stood at a steel door two feet thick, beckoning frantically. With what sounded like a growl, Givanni turned towards it. Hurdling through the doorway, he kept ahold of my hand even after Marco had pulled the massive wall of metal shut, running through the small control room and down another dark hallway. This time it looked more like the interior of a building, and red-lighted sirens deafened our ears with each pass. There was no time to speak—we only ran. And as I struggled to keep up I half expected everything around us to explode.
At first, the trembling was just enough to be noticed. But it landed like a clap of thunder, knocking us to the ground. Dust clouded the tunnel and I looked back to see Marco on the ground as well, littered with debris.
The instant I took a breath it felt like I’d sucked in poison, the mock air eating away at my insides. It came out in lung wrenching coughs. I pulled the neckline of my shirt over my mouth and nose and searched for Givanni. But the dust had created a wall too thick to see through. Alternating from hand to elbow I finally felt his legs. I shook him, but he didn’t respond.
Sirens blared and boots pounded against concrete from every direction. They were leaving, just like we wanted. I crawled over pieces of stone ceiling that littered the floor. The light filtering in from above exposed a dim outline of Givanni’s face, and I patted his cheek, speaking his name between coughs. With my head against his chest, I caught the rhythm of his heart. Still coughing relentlessly, I managed to rip a piece of my shirt and drape it over his face. From what I could see he was okay. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes since the explosion, and yet my mind had gone through my entire life more than once. The dust began to settle enough to let streams of sunlight in—from the gaping holes in the exterior.
I gripped Givanni’s shoulders and shook him hard. Finally, he coughed, and the fabric on his face whisked into the air. With his next breath he was hacking, sitting up and covering his face with his shirt even before he’d opened his eyes.
We needed to get out.
Feeling a sense of déjà vu, I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled. He lifted with me, still coughing but on his feet. I glanced back to where Marco had been, but the dust and smoke were too thick. The small portion of cotton shirt that acted as my mask quickly slipped off my face as we scrambled over rubble to the crumbled gap in the wall. Not able to hold my breath for another second I sucked in a lungful of air—and regretted it. We were still surrounded by fumes and I coughed uncontrollably, the stinging fumes coating my throat.
Through glimpses between smoke, I caught sight of the farthest end of the island. Small boats were pushing off and paddling to the mainland. Men filled the last vessel and shoved off. A gust of wind brought warm clean air, and I breathed in eagerly. Givanni kept a hold of my hand and we ran through brush and black clouds of smoke.
We’d almost reached the edge of the vegetation where we
’d hoped to meet Enrica and Jordyn. My mind brought up an image of Jordyn crushed under the stone building, and I shook it away. It was impossible to know if he was okay or not. Marco’s shape lying in the dark tunnel was making its way to my thoughts as well and I glanced over at Givanni as we ran, wondering what was going through his head.
As we reached the edge of the cliffs wind suddenly thudded past us in intervals, and we both skidded to a stop. I recognized it immediately, but the question of whether or not we could trust the pilot of Marco’s helicopter hovering twenty feet from us was another matter. It settled on a sloping area clear of vegetation and sat there with its blades chopping—waiting.
I couldn’t shake the thoughts crowding my head. The guilt of leaving Marco was already eating a hole in my stomach. I had to yell over the raging chaos around us. “Marco—I don’t know if he got up.”
Givanni watched my face for a moment before looking back at the crumbled, smoking pile of rubble.
“Van!” We swung around to find Enrica and Max, sprinting along the pebbly beach towards us. Untangling the rope from his harness, Max slowed. But Enrica dropped down next to Givanni, wrapping her arms around him. I swayed back a little, not sure what to make of it. But no doubt they’d watched the explosion—had maybe even seen us enter the building. It couldn’t have looked very hopeful.
Leaning back from Givanni she placed a hand gently on my shoulder. I stiffened, but her face was so full of relief that it left her every fear exposed—she only had us. My thoughts jumped to Jordyn and clearly seeing the question on her face I could only shrug and glance at the building again. He might have made it if we did.
I caught a look of surprise on Max’s face, and only had time to turn my head before he was practically pinning us down. “Get down!” He shouted. We huddled behind a pileup of boulders and I could just make out the pilot beyond. He’d stepped from the helicopter, and even before he removed his sunglasses I could tell it was Manwell.
Our heads swung around in unison as he beckoned toward the building. Two men stumbled from the farthest mass of smoke. Marco was easy to spot. It took me a moment to realize it was Jordyn supporting him.
“What’s Manwell doing here?” Enrica sounded irritated with her own question.
“He shouldn’t be here,” Max agreed. “But it might explain the strange orders we got. Maybe it wasn’t Boswik making the plans after all.”
I glanced again at the three distant men. They stopped to talk—or argue was more like it. Manwell threw his hands in the air, and Jordyn looked ready to tackle anyone close enough. “That’s as unstable a group as I’ve ever seen,” I said. “But what I’d like to know is why it looks like they’re working together.”
All eyes turned to Enrica, although she made no reaction. She only watched the trio as they continued to debate just out of earshot. With the whisp of a sigh, she dropped her eyes to us. “Jordyn doesn’t take orders, and he can’t be bought. So you might as well get those thoughts out of your head. Because he’s not in league with anyone, which is most likely what the argument is about. They want him in their little club.”
Enrica’s piercing stare turned away again, and Givanni nodded at Max. “Can we make it to the chopper before them?” Givanni asked, already on his feet. Max’s lips had stretched into a wicked smile and I felt my stomach turn—not sure what exactly they were suggesting.
“Don’t worry about me and Jordyn,” Enrica said, waving a hand at us. “He has a way off the island.” We gawked at Enrica, but she just flicked her hair off one dainty shoulder. “Always a way out—he just couldn’t accommodate everyone.” Her eyes brushed by me, and I realized now why she had been so irritated with my very existence on this trip. I’d about doomed them. “Do you need a distraction?” She purred, looking more eager than I’d ever seen—her eyes glinting with energy.
Max and Givanni nodded together, and all heads turned as Enrica left our makeshift hideout and strode like a runway model through the clearing
Chapter 19
Even smudged with dirt and covered in a tint of blackened smoke, Enrica had a way of keeping attention—drawing eyes in and trapping them until she gave them leave to look away. And this was one of the few times I didn’t care. Let her entice them with her strangely hostile beauty, it was exactly the chance we needed. Nothing on our trip had gone as planned. In fact, it had all gone so absolutely wrong that jumping into Marco’s helicopter when the pilot was the President, didn’t seem that bad.
“Ella,” Givanni’s voice sent chills scattering across my arm, especially when his breath gusted in my face like that. “You…” the way he dropped his eyes to the ground wasn’t like him. “You never trusted Marco. Can you tell me why?” When his eyes did lift they were filled with inquiry, waiting on my every word.
I swallowed, wishing I could give him a noble and well-researched answer, but the truth was far from that. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I haven’t trusted Marco, but really I didn’t have any reason not to—even now, we don’t know what his role is in all this.” I shrugged, “It was just the way he treated you. He can compliment and insult you in one breath together and think nothing of it. How can you trust someone like that?”
His face changed with each word I spoke. Finally, he responded with a tight smirk lifting his mouth “Very true,” he agreed. “But whatever he is, he’s always taken care of. He knows how to protect himself. So... there should be nothing wrong with abandoning him here to take advantage of the chance to help ourselves for once.”
His decision was a shock, and I stared back at him waiting for him to change his plans. Behind us, Max grinned like a kid and was already cinching his pack up. “Okay,” I huffed, feeling caught in a whirlwind. “We’d better get going.”
We inched forward at first, each of us watching the way Enrica had captured the attention of the entire group. We would have to be quick—there was no place to hide between us and the chopper. It wasn’t until Enrica’s shouting lifted over the thrumming helicopter blades that I dashed forward. I didn’t look behind me—Givanni and Max would be there. There was no telling what the commotion from Enrica’s group meant, but not one of us cared to find out. I leaped up first, practically diving through the open door and behind the pilot seats. Max took control of the chopper and in seconds we were off the ground.
Marco reacted, finally spotting us. He ran towards us with Manwell close on his heels. What he thought he was going to do, I had no idea—maybe attempting to win over our sympathies.
But Givanni seemed way past that, as he nearly smiled watching Manwell stumble to keep up. The radio crackled, and even though the group below was already miniaturized, I could see Manwell had an arm raised. He was holding something out to us.
“…Wouldn’t leave without this would you?” The voice on the radio crackled. Givanni leaned closer to the window at the black briefcase Manwell held. “Evidence to clear you name? Right now you are a murderer Mr. Alarrno,” Manwell said. Static cut through, and I leaned in to study Givanni’s face. “…Is that how you want to live your life? When you have a chance to be free? To be an innocent man?”
Max pulled up on the controls with an irritated jerk, but Givanni held a hand up. The helicopter stopped suddenly, and my stomach rose to my throat.
I huffed, angry. Who cared what Manwell said? “Givanni, don’t—” He didn’t let me finish,
“Wait,” He cut in, looking at Max’s equally irritated face. “Just wait a minute…”
“You know there isn’t anywhere you can hide. Is that the life you want for your friends?” Manwell continued to banter. “For Ms. Lane?”
Givanni glanced at me, and I tried to look as incredulous as possible—why was he even considering this? “Givanni,” I started again, but he pushed a set of headphones over his ears, speaking into the curved microphone at his lips.
“Manwell, my guess is you don’t want to be caught on this island – am I right?” Static buzzed in our ears, and the tiny briefcase below fe
ll to Manwell’s side.
A gust of breath puffed in the speakers, “It could potentially ruin me, yes.”
“Well then stop negotiating and start listening,” The sting in Givanni’s voice was stronger with each word. “Since you chose to look the other way while I was abducted, tortured, and nearly killed, believe me when I say I could care less what happens to you—President or not.”
With a surge of satisfaction, I looked down at the group below, and thought for sure I could see Enrica’s grin.
“But, as I’m sure you know,” Givanni added. “I need your help.” Grumbling a little, I wished he would have left it with his threat and flown away. Manwell didn’t deserve the satisfaction of having a say in things.
“Let’s talk then—quickly. I am unarmed and outnumbered. You have nothing to fear.” Manwell sounded relieved, and I ground my teeth together. He was good at this.
A slight nod was all the communication it took for Max to lower the helicopter, setting it down gently in the grass. But while Givanni and I exited, he remained where he was, with his hands never leaving the controls. Max was a smart man.
I stood back from the group, avoiding eye contact with Manwell and remembering very clearly the goodness I had seen in him on the yacht—I’d never imagined he was the kind of person to do any of this. Jordyn and Enrica stepped in, creating a distinct appearance of sides and leaving Marco and Manwell separated. But the second Manwell took a step towards us, Givanni’s voice roared over the chopper.
“Let me see those documents.” He demanded, receiving the briefcase without a single protest. Manwell handed it over at arms-length and stepped back to a wider distance than before. I eyed him curiously before leaning in to watch the briefcase pop open. There on the first page was Givanni’s name. It was a transcription of events—times and details of the day Callisto was shot. It was all there, and clearly proved Givanni innocent.