by Gary Sapp
the devastation of Scar not through television or internet but on a far more personal level.
Once again Angel Hicks Dupree wondered what terrors her husband had been exposed to since he’d arrived in Atlanta.
“No, she told him. “I believe that this—all of this is about Serena Tennyson and the vast belief she wields for her Dragon and her flames.”
“Oh my God in Heaven,” Was all that Seth could manage to say.
Seth attempted to lift himself out of his bed and stand up. Angel didn’t fight him. She helped her husband to his feet. The open areas of his gown exposed more blemishes, scars and bruises on his lower back, thighs and calves. From a mere physical sense, he looked as if he’d suffered far worse in this ordeal than even she had. She knew of her husband’s past traumatic episodes involving the boast accident and the loss of life as he reached early adulthood. She knew that he was strong but where her husband was at from a mental standpoint she could only guess without a thorough examination. She was as professional with her medical practice as Seth was at his—and professionals didn’t guess about such a prognosis. But all she could do is guess at this point.
“I know about Roxane Sanchez,” Seth said as a matter of fact. “I know that the two of you had unique relationship that bonded you together the rest of your lives,” They watched each other—waited on the other to react to his news.
Angel said, “She’s okay. I think that she’s okay for the moment. We’ve spent some time together since you last saw her. We talked through some of our differences. I think it’s highly unlikely that we will ever be besties but I think we reached some level of acceptance of whom the other woman is and where she is coming from when it comes to the unfortunate death of her sister. I respect her, Seth. I can’t argue with the decisions that she’s made. I can respect them.” She saw a reflection of her big brown eyes in his gray ones. She could only guess what Seth and Roxanne were doing together. “I respect your decisions as well, Seth.”
“For a time I was angry with you, Angel,” Seth said to her. “I was confused about my own feelings. I knew that she wanted to kill you. I did everything that I could to reach you but you wouldn’t answer my calls. Like I said, I was confused but I knew that I couldn’t hurt you. I wanted to save you.”
Angel nodded.
“You wanted to save me from Roxanne—“
“I wanted and still want to save you from yourself, Angel.”
She pulled him close again. She closed her eyes and blocked out everyone and everything in this room…and soaked in all of her husband’s love like a well overflowing with water.
“I know that you do, Seth. I know that more now than ever before. Even after everything that I’ve said to you, even after everything that I’ve done to you—done to us…
Seth lovingly placed his index finger on top of her thick lips to silence them.
They embraced and anyone in this room who was uncomfortable with that be damned.
Perhaps Angel could go home again.
Perhaps.
Roxanne
She felt the eyes of God watching her in this place.
They weren’t, not in a physical sense at the least.
Hundreds of Atlanta residents of all races, creeds and colors had turned, as she had, to the Martin Luther King Memorial Center as a center of refuge, of solitude and for prayer in the hours before Martial Law was to be imposed on the city.
She’d remembered learning in middle school about the great Civil Rights leader and how he’d spoken to a crowd even more packed than this place was today. Roxanne Sanchez hadn’t minded the intrusion of all of these other strangers—at least half as much as she would have believed she thought would have.
God’s eyes weren’t on her but the glaring of someone seemingly as powerful was.
Victor Gonzales had found her.
She was unsure of how she knew…but she knew nonetheless.
Roxanne limped out of the main building as quickly as her cast around her shattered ankle had allowed her. She heard her former lover walking up behind her…and perhaps a second set of heavier footsteps coming up behind her. If this man was to kill her she knew that he possessed the means to do so silently and discreetly enough not to disturb the other refugees. It was all that Roxanne Sanchez could wish for now. The other residents had been through so very much. They didn’t deserve to be exposed to further violence in the one place where they thought that they’d it here—under the roof of a man who spent his life preaching the importance of non-violence to achieve equality.
They followed her into an area that served as a balcony to that you could look east into the heart of the city. The smoke out on the deck was near suffocating levels and Roxanne coughed into her hands. Time to die; and so she spun around quickly to face her executioners at last. She was right when she felt the Victor’s presence here. She was also correct when she guessed that his man Gonzales was one step behind him. All of the events, all of the business of death and living over the past days hadn’t dulled her instincts at the least.
Roxanne bit back tears despite the danger and the smoke present. Or at the least she’d convinced herself of such as the first tear threatened to run down her cheek. She cautioned herself against making any sudden movements in Victor’s presence. She was unarmed. Even with her injuries she was more than a match against any of the residents foolish enough to attack her in the group below them. Victor and to a lesser extent Gonzales were another matter.
Victor gave their surroundings a once over. He seemed to especially find the statue of Martin Luther King Jr himself interesting. Roxanne felt a sudden bout of shame wash over her. On one hand she didn’t want the refugees below to witness yet another murder in this city but an act of senseless violence here in front of a great man’s statue felt wrong as well.
“I find it funny that you would seek asylum in a place like this one, Senorita,” Victor spoke in his raspy voice at last. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You do like the company of powerful men.”
Roxanne felt herself tense at the authority that his voice ushered out even with the simple words he was saying. It amazed her of how much that same voice had comforted her doing their lovemaking frightened her so much now.
“I can’t say that it doesn’t surprise me as well, Victor.” She then acknowledged Gonzales with a curt nod but dared not take her dark eyes off her former lover for long. “Sometimes desperation forces us to search for strength and courage in places where we least expect to find them.”
“Perhaps it does at that, but that fact alone won’t save you from what’s coming now, Senorita.” Victor reached into his jacket pocket for his cigar—Roxanne tensed as she’d mistaken the gesture for him reaching for a mall gun. He gave the place another long once over and decided that this wasn’t the place to share his Cuban experience. “If I in fact have chosen to kill you, Senorita, this place will do as well as any other.”
“How did you find me, Victor?”
“The devils, as they say, are in the details. Those details also tend to be long and drawn out.” He flashed a curt smile that Roxanne could remember adoring. “But you do deserve an answer. Let’s just say that you danced once too often with a devil named Andre Knight of the Carver Street Apartments. He turned out to be an expensive but invaluable asset in finalizing my search.”
Roxanne laughed aloud to hide her embarrassment.
“How could he?” Roxanne said as she pounded the smoky air with her fist. She’d held that little bastard when he’d lost his friends in the Peacekeeper’s raid on Carver. How could he turn her over to a complete stranger to him? “One of the lasting things that you told me is that trusting people would be my undoing.” And Maria had trusted Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree and she’d seen what the price her sister had paid for that trust. “I can’t help but wonder how much of a reward he got for selling me out?”
Gonzales grin grew lopsided and disgusting looking. He pulled his jacket back far enough so Roxanne could see the butt of his gun w
ithout much effort.
“Don’t worry about that, young lady.” He said with his heavier Spanish accident shining through. “He asked for $5000 and we paid him every red cent.”
Victor took a step towards her. “And then Gonzales here slowly killed him. Your boy died screaming leaving this world much the way I’m sure he did when he was brought into it. I got my refund but I will credit him with being right about one thing: he promised me that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Even after you found Agent Prince’s step daughter in that dumpster you weren’t going anywhere.”
“I want you to leave Chris out of this.” And for the first time Roxanne allowed her voice to slip into her more familiar dangerous tone that matched Victor’s own. “This business is our business no one else’s.”
“I’m glad that you’ve taken my words to heart if not into practice, Senorita.” He said. “If you’ll remember me also telling you that showing mercy would also be your undoing.” Roxanne was unsure if Victor’s failure to comment on her last words meant that the man she now loved was safe from this former lover or not. She’d only spoken to Chris by phone after Angel sent the help that she promised that she would for her and the other victims of the Marta upheaval. “I’m disappointed that you haven’t learned that for yourself by now.”
“And what about honor, duty and family,” Roxanne asked Victor but