by Tony Lavely
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Change of Attitude
BECKIE WASN’T THINKING OF MUCH as Jean-Luc began the flight to the motel. Unrelenting panic waited until she grasped that not only was Jean-Luc going to keep the altitude at twelve feet, he was going to fly as fast as the little machine could go, which was far, far faster than Beckie ever thought of traveling while suspended just above the scrub pines.
During the first minutes of the flight, she and Melissa had been busy making sure Kevin and all the others were strapped in—“It’ll be a little bumpy, pull the belts tight!”—then getting blankets to cover the four refugee girls, and one for Melissa before they ran out. Mike dropped his armor on the deck and offered Beckie his tee shirt, but she refused, as she had Kevin’s bloody, single sleeved over-shirt.
But after all that was done, when she closed her eyes the picture in her mind was that of a chair hanging from a hook, swinging wildly in all directions. When she opened her eyes, the swinging subsided to more reasonable levels, to be replaced by scenery flashing by close enough to touch. Neither perception calmed her. Wanting to cry out in her fear, she grabbed Mike’s arm as tightly as she could. His hand found hers; he held tight to her.
Within her mind, along with the tiny—but oh! so insistent—voices screaming that she was going to die, she had… well, one rational thought left: a faint voice, scarcely heard over the others and the rush of the wind past the open window, saying “equal and… equal and… equal and opposite… equal and opposite…”
This voice roused her curiosity, allowing her to suppress—slightly—the hundreds of fear laden ones; in another second she realized that she was pulling up on the seat as hard as she could, hard enough that her muscles would cramp, and her rational mind was telling her it would do no good. The understanding became firm and she giggled to herself. then, Joy! My fear, it’s gone! At least, the unreasoning debilitating part was gone, leaving a great respect for the process—and possible anomalies—of flight. She had no idea where she’d read it, but Satchel Paige’s blurb on flying suddenly rushed into her mind: “They may kill ya, but they ain’t likely to hurt ya.” With wry amusement, she recognized for the first time the comfort in it, however small.
She didn’t throw off Mike’s hold, but hers lost its death-grip nature, becoming more and more an it’s-okay-we’re-both-here-for-each-other kind of clasp. She saw the surprise along with pleasure when he turned toward her.
She kept her head close to his so they could talk over the noise of the wind. “So, tell me what else happened back there, while Lissa and I were… captured?”
“Not much. We found Wendy before we went in; she said they were gonna meet with… customers, I guess—” He bounced off her shoulder as the copter maneuvered abruptly, and she caught his arm tight again. She flashed Melissa a smile.
“Yeah, that’s what she and… Megan, I think. That’s what they said they were gonna do.”
“Well, we got in through a door they left open and found Megan. Had to go… That place is really huge. Three floors just there, and when we went in, we had to go down to where Wendy said you were when she saw you, and then back up to get Megan.
“I was, like, beside myself over finding Lissa and you—”
“More Lissa, I’m thinkin’,” Beckie said with a snort of laughter.
“No… Well, maybe. A little. But I wanted to find both of you,” he finished, twisting around to look her in the eye. “You ask Kevin. Or Mr. Jam—”
“Okay, okay. We’re glad you found us!”
“Anyway, Wendy insisted we had to find Kylie—”
“Oh, yeah, Sue said about her and Kylie. Where was she?”
“They have a hospital, or clinic, or something. That’s where she was. When we went in, somebody knifed Sue, and while I was helping bandage her arm, Kevin and Wendy found Kylie.”
“Wow. I guess Sue’s okay?”
“Yeah. ‘Least, she said it’d heal fine. I was happy I could help her.”
“How come Kylie was in there?”
“Wendy said Kylie got thrown into a sink and broke her skull.”
Beckie gasped. She looked over at Melissa, who just nodded. “Foreplay,” she said with a grimace. “He already told me. That place really, really sucks, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“That was the night she sent the IM.” He slumped in the rough seat. “And then, like I said, she gave me back the armor…” He kicked it, lying at his feet. “and she got shot going to the copter. I hope she’s… she’s gonna be okay,” he said with a little break in his voice.
Beckie brushed a kiss above his ear. “She’ll be fine.” She squeezed his hand before sitting back against the bulkhead. “That settles it. I’m goin’ back with Jean-Luc to help Mr. Jamse finish up. He’ll need extra hands, especially if there’s a bunch of other girls there, like whoever it was was sayin.’” Her voice, while quiet, managed to convey her urgency.
“Kie, you can’t—”
“I can. And will! I need to do this. You and Lissa are gonna stay back this time, hear!” She put her fingers against his lips before he could protest further. “It’s not over. I want to work with them as something ‘sides a captive.” A grin. “And someone’s gotta stand up for these girls. Now rest, so your ribs heal. That’s your job!”
After three years, or two lifetimes of twelve minutes, the copter slowed and dropped to the parking lot outside the motel’s cabins. Alongside, Beckie saw a white trailer, doors open at the back and side, light spilling out like sugar from a turned bowl.
In the light, people were waiting. A couple in white at the door of the trailer; several others in more casual outfits behind the fence between the parking area and what passed for the cabins’ lawn. Until the rotor slowed and the door opened, she didn’t see the woman looking over the scene. She was dressed as Beckie thought she herself should be: in a gray, tan and brown camouflage outfit.
Beckie helped Jean-Luc get the copter unloaded. She took the initiative, assisting, guiding, doing a little directing as it seemed useful. Quickly, all the riders were in the medical station—except Beckie.
Postponing the meeting with her parents for the moment, she joined Jean-Luc with the woman, looking curiously at her.
Jean-Luc apparently took notice, he introduced them. “Mademoiselle…” Both women turned to him. “Mesdemoiselles, may I present Beckie Sverdupe? And Elena Rios?”
With a quick shake of hands and a smile, Beckie took stock of the other woman. She was young, early thirties or perhaps late twenties. From the name, Beckie guessed an Hispanic background and the dark hair and facial features seemed to confirm it. She was a little taller than Beckie, and pleasingly put together. Her smile made her very attractive.
Conscious of her own disarray, Beckie chose what she hoped would be a neutral topic. “What’s all this?” She waved her hand at the trailer and the people moving purposefully in and out of it.
Elena had to look around to see what Beckie was referring to. “Oh, that,” she said, a little dismissively Beckie thought. “That’s Millie’s hospital away from home. Millie Ardan, our doctor. Honest to God, I think she has to live in an OR.” Her laugh brought Beckie’s head around; uncertain, she joined with a weak giggle. “No, I’m kidding. We owe her a lot.” She smiled and started to put her arm around Beckie’s shoulders before withdrawing. “Sorry. You’re not dressed for incidental affection.”
Beckie grinned, hoping her embarrassment wasn’t too obvious. “Yeah.” She made yet another attempt to improve the coverage her garments provided. “About that, can—”
“Anyway,” Elena continued, “we flew in earlier today, after Ian called. As you can see, we come equipped for most anything. That’s our field hospital, and it is Millie’s pride and joy. She hates that we sometimes need it, but loves that she can be there when we do, if that makes sense.”
“It does, I think.” She looked around. “You flew in? Where—”
“The plane’s a couple of miles
over that way.” She pointed into the east. “Karen found a straight road out there. We brought the Hercules…” She shook her head as if she didn’t believe it. “She can land it damn near anywhere.”
“What’s a Hercules?”
Jean-Luc responded, “A C-130, built by Lockheed for the US Air Force and other customers. In the US, they also use the airframe for hurricane hunters. If you’ve watched any action movies, it’s used pretty frequently. With the full rear ramp, it makes an impressive airdrop platform. It was designed as a combat troop carrier for short unimproved airstrips, only a kilometer in length. It can haul troops, vehicles or firefighting equipment, almost its own weight again in load. As—”
“Whoa!” Elena laughed. “We’re not looking to buy one.”
Beckie had to join in, but then turned to Jean-Luc. “Don’t look so forlorn, Jean-Luc. And thanks for the, overview, I guess. How much can it carry? In terms that make sense?”
“Almost a hundred troops with their gear.” He scowled at Elena. “It is a very good aircraft.”
“Ah,” Beckie said, to forestall anything Elena might say. “Thanks.”
Elena shook her head, this time Beckie saw amusement and resignation. The rest of the discussion was brief; Elena would pass Sue’s message to Millie. The Hercules was ready to leave as soon as it was loaded with the hospital and the people.
“Elena, I started to ask if I could borrow one of your uniforms, please? If you have an extra? Otherwise, I’ll haveta go back like this.” She smoothed her ‘outfit.’
“Sure, but I didn’t know you were goin’ back?”
Jean-Luc also looked askance. “Mr. Jamse mentioned nothing about anyone returning, and certainly not you, cherie.”
“That doesn’t matter. Kevin’s here. Sue’s hurt. I’m goin’ back to at least be another pair of hands.” Her forehead creased slightly into a thoughtful frown. “How far away are we, anyway?”
“About forty kilometers, maybe fifty, flying. Over twice that on the ground.”
“There are likely another twenty girls there, or more. And all of us, and anyone Mr. Jamse wants to bring out. Maybe thirty-five, forty, people.” She let the unspoken question hang.
Elena filled in the uncomfortable silence. “We’ve already got ten, that’ll make most of fifty, plus the people here… Your parents, for example.” Beckie winced at her piercing stare.
“Yeah, I’ll have to talk to them soon. But I’d rather be in, you know, other clothes.”
Jean-Luc nodded along with Elena. “Come on then,” the woman said. “I’ve got some gear in here. It’ll be a little big, but…” Elena led Beckie to a cabin beside the trailer. There Beckie was outfitted in a camo outfit, although Elena held off adding the ancillary equipment till after Beckie talked with her parents.
She found them with Mike and Melissa in the trailer next to Rosa and Ana, who were having their lash marks redressed. The portable hospital didn’t accommodate modesty well, so Mike and her dad were standing facing away from the unclad girls. Mom was assisting the doctor.
Beckie recognized Melissa’s surprise at Beckie’s outfit. “Don’t mention it, please,” she pleaded when the girls hugged hello. Melissa shook her head, but Beckie ignored the sign, asking her parents to join her outside.
“Mom, Dad, I’m awful sorry about Mike. Have they said how serious it is?”
“Two ribs are broken, and there’s a big bruise, too. They haven’t x-rayed to see if there’s any other damage; there are more urgent cases to take care of.”
“But it looks like you have something to say, too?” Jean said. “Or you couldn’t find your own clothes?”
“Didn’t look, Mom. I’m going back with the copter so I borrowed these from Elena. There’s still—”
“Don’t!” Jim said, as firm as he was quiet. “There’s nothing you can tell us that will convince us to let you go back there. And…” He gave a sigh of resignation. “And there’s nothing we can say that will prevent you going.”
Beckie looked at them, comprehending perhaps for the first time, that the parents standing before her were people, people with hopes and dreams of their own, no less strong or important than her own. For the second time that night, her heart swelled with love and understanding and pride.
“No, Dad, that’s not true. If you can go back in there…” She waved at the white trailer. “look around, and then tell me not to go back, I will stay here, and I won’t argue with you about it, ever.”
“Come back, say good bye to Mike and Melissa,” he said, his voice shaking. “I thought I heard the doctor say she probably won’t need the helicopter till we’re ready to go.” He half turned to her. “Where are they taking us?”
“A clinic in the Bahamas, I think. Kevin can say. Mr. deVeel.”
In the trailer, she hugged Melissa again, telling her not to worry, and take care of things for her. A quick hug for Mike.
“Please come back, Beckie,” her father breathed in her ear as she hugged him.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll put the body armor on in the copter. Elena didn’t have extra long johns, so I decided to wait. But I’ll be okay.” She drew back enough that they could be face to face without noses touching or eyes crossing. “I just now understand how much you and Mom give up for us; what it costs. And some of what it’s worth. That’s important. I’ve not always had what I wanted, and this may be a part of that. But I’ve always had you and Mom, and I’ve never doubted your love or concern or interest. Thanks. I love you!”
With Jean, a quicker leave taking: “I’ll be back, Mom. I love you. Take care of Dad, please; help him to believe I love you both.” A hug, cheek against cheek.
Elena waved from the door. “Gear’s in; we’ll talk about it on the way. I talked to Ian; I think resigned acceptance would best describe him.” Elena gave her a grin that Beckie didn’t associate with resigned acceptance. “And you gave Jean-Luc something to think about. He’s called a buddy who can bring another chopper in, bigger than this, but noisier, so we don’t want to call it till we’re ready.”
Jean-Luc was lifting off, taking the copter back to the twelve foot altitude.
“Jean-Luc, can you get high enough so we don’t have to go around every cactus, please?” Elena pleaded. “We’ve gotta get some things done back here, standing up.”
He brought the altitude to fifteen feet. The girls looked at each other, then laughed. Beckie stripped the uniform shirt; as she started to don the armor, Jean-Luc whistled a note of appreciation. Over the wind noise, she hollered to him: “you’ve been ferrying naked girls for the past couple hours, what’s that for?” Failing to find a comfortable way to wear the armor, she exclaimed, “God, that’s uncomfortable!” and cast about for something soft to slip between her breasts and the armor as she heard Jean-Luc from forward:
“But none were as enchanté as you, mademoiselle.”
“Bull!” laughing again. “But thanks for the confidence.”
Elena kept her so busy that the fact of flying held off at about arm’s length, unable to encroach. By the time she stood on the sand again, she knew a little about every piece of equipment Elena had said was the minimum, her lone weapon, a knife. “For self defense; no throwing it. It’s a poniard, mine, custom made, very dear.” Beckie had held it, feeling its heft, noticing that, like Sue’s, both edges were sharpened; she gingerly tested them on her finger before returning it to the sheath.
Other gear was, if not mundane, at least more realistic, Beckie guessed: radio, communicator, a few tools, different gloves, helmet with a night vision device—“which someone may appropriate,” Elena warned, “let them”—a canteen, full, and some rations. I hope I won’t need those!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Playpen
NO WORDS WERE NECESSARY AS Karen rejoined Jamse; the group was soon approaching the Playpen. Short Stack first said no one would be there, but when Sue asked “Nine and ten?”
He responded, “Ah, Neuf and Dix. Their clients… yes, it�
��s possible.” The hallway he led them down ended at a double door. “There. Electricity is probably still on. I should open the door; go in first.”
“If you think it best.” Jamse had no intention of dissuading him.
“You’ll have the surprise, at least.”
They spread themselves along the walls leading to the doorway; Short Stack waited until they settled, then walked up and waved his hand by the doorframe. The door clicked; he opened it.
Three quick shots took Short Stack down. From the rear of the line, Karen had the best view of the flashes; she was able to return fire with two shots before the door slammed shut. Her last shot splintered the door above the latch, to no avail.
Sue was working on Short Stack even as Dan and Freddy dragged him from the door. “Not good,” she confirmed to Jamse. “Hollow points. This one, probably survivable. The other two…” Short Stack gave a final gasp of air mixed with frothy blood; he lay silent. Jamse dropped to a crouch and carefully closed his eyes.
“Damn.” He strode to the door which Derek and Karen were festooning with cord.
“Look what Karen had the foresight to bring!” Derek enthused. “Smokeless and very high temperature. We’ll use it at the hinges and the handle.”
“How long?”
“Minute more to rig it,” Karen said, “and a couple minutes after it goes off before we can try to get it open. ‘Less it just falls in, of course.” She glanced back at Short Stack. “Didn’t make it, eh?” Jamse nodded.
They planned as the cord was set. Derek moved about fifteen feet back to take a prone position, mostly covered by a hallway. Except for Short Stack’s body—which they’d moved closer to the door again—the others were along the walls further back. “Derek has a clear view of the center of the hall. Derek, leave targets close to the sides for either Karen or myself.”
The cord was fired; the left hand door panel glowed, then slowly fell into the hallway. Derek had the first shot, nearly; it was simultaneous with one from inside the room. Ready for the action and using the image intensifier to assist in the subdued light, Derek’s round took the man in the throat, pitching him heels over head against the sofa behind him. His shot had left the barrel less than a millisecond before the weapon was thrown in his last spasmodic grasp. Later they agreed he’d fired blind; the bullet dented the top of Jamse’s helmet before spending itself in the wall. A last twitch of the guard’s finger left his compatriots ducking as the gun fired without control.