RESILIENCE (Resilient Saga Book 1)

by Marcia DM

  “If you say so…”

  “I know so… Here, there and everywhere.” I sigh with relief.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  We arrive at the cemetery, relaxed and somewhat more connected to each other. I always thought that music brings people together, but hell, she’s not letting my hand go.

  I park the car on top of a slope, with a clear sight to where the service is being held. I step out after signaling Sarah to stay put while I check the surroundings. It seems to be clear, no threats in sight. At this point, I don’t know why I was expecting them to be stupid enough to try something here. The only logical and safe way to do something around here would be to snipe your target from afar, given that there’s a clear line of sight pretty much everywhere, with only a few old trees in the way. But they won’t do that— the deed must be done up close, because it’s personal. I turn around and slightly nod, but she doesn’t step out. I walk towards the car and I see her, sitting there, as if frozen in time.

  “It’s safe, come on out.”

  “I don’t think I can do this.” I open the passenger door.

  “Yes, you can. Take my hand.” She grabs my hand, tight. “Come on, let’s go.”

  She walks in complete silence and looking grim. I guess that’s to be expected given that:

  A.That’s her mother in the coffin.

  B.Her life is highly likely at risk.

  C.She can’t get close and give her the proper goodbye.

  We stay a few feet away from the car. She’s still holding my hand, interlocked fingers and all. The air got dense and Sarah’s looking stiff; she’s fighting something inside of her and she doesn’t want me to notice, which is why she started to put up her shield, as usual. She’s a strong woman, very strong, even stronger than me and a lot of ‘tough’ men out there.

  From this position we can hear and see pretty much everything. On the one hand, there are a lot of people sitting, some are openly wiping, others are trying to conceal it; one can clearly see that her mother was truly loved by friends and of course, family. On the other hand, we are surrounded by nature, the grass is green and well maintained, the smell of water saturating the atmosphere indicates that the sprinklers were on before the service started, making me want to take a deep breath and fill my lungs with fresh air, just like when it’s about to rain. There’s another slope to our right. This one is taller and casts a shadow over our position, giving the scenery the final touch to make it a solid candidate for an oil painting. However, none of that can change the fact that I fucking hate funerals. To me, they are a waste of time. Whomever is about to go into the ground doesn’t care if you’re there or not. But since this means so much to Sarah, then it means that much to me as well.

  I can’t keep fooling myself— she’s my number one priority and has been for a long time. It’s very strange to feel like this right now: this limbo, where every feeling meets its counterpart, where I clearly want and need her close, but far at the same time.

  I want her to be free and mine.

  Happy but just with me.

  I know, I’m fucking selfish, but we are who we are, and I’m not gonna pretend I’m not.

  The sunglasses I made her wear are making it impossible to look into her eyes, and yet I’m sure she’s having a conversation with her mother inside her head.

  The service is almost over, and the coffin starts to go down slowly, like they always do, which is kind of shitty if you think about it. Your loved one is going under the ground and instead of doing it quickly to save you a lot of pain, like ripping a Band-Aid off, no, they make it extra slow, to extend your agony.

  Fucking assholes.

  The ceremony comes to an end; everybody gives each other a proper goodbye and leaves the premises.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have any family.”

  “I don’t. I’ve never seen any of those people before.” She sounds resentful. That’s totally understandable. The fact that she just saw her mother’s coffin surrounded by strangers who were close enough to give the last goodbye while she had to stay away in a fucking disguise to avoid drawing attention of any kind finally got to her.

  My pocket vibrates— my cell’s getting a call. I reach for it, pull it out, check the screen. The name ‘Carter’ is being displayed.

  “I gotta take this, it could be important. Stay here, don’t go anywhere,” I excuse myself to her and let go of her hand. I turn my back and take a few steps away from her. She’s all by herself now, watching a plot of land with a hole in it.

  “This isn’t a good time, cuz.”

  “Would you rather have me show up at your doorstep again? Plus, if you think about it, it’s never a good time lately. Did you realize that? I’m kinda jealous over here.” That’s Carter for you. He’s the only one who can break the ice in a tense situation like this, like nothing.

  “Come one, man. What do you got?”

  “My sources are getting richer thanks to our friend Leon. Apparently, he has been giving money away and also buying friends whose connections might help him find you and Sarah.”

  “So… you’re telling me that there’s no safe place in the entire state?” I answer and lower my voice, while checking on Sarah with the corner of my eye. She’s still there looking at the scenery.

  “Seems that way, cuz. I’d keep Sarah off the streets for good. You know, lay low for a while until we can take him out.”

  “If what you told me is true, chances are that the police are involved. That would make him twice as hard to find, let alone neutralize him. How long do you think I will be able to keep her quiet doing nothing?”

  “That’s my whole point— if the police are involved, you can bet your ass that every punk in town is, too. Which means there will be a ton more of eyeballs looking for both of you. We don’t know who we can trust right now, but us.” I look back at Sarah and I don’t see her.

  “I’ll call you back.” Where is she!?

  I scan the area for Sarah and find her kneeling beside her mother’s grave.

  What is she doing there?

  I walk towards her, stomping on the tall grass. She disobeyed me and that makes me mad. I should probably take a few deep breaths and try to understand that her mother just went to the ground, but it’s not safe here at all.

  I crouch next to her.

  “Sarah, we need to move.” I look around, trying to see if anyone noticed us.

  “Okay, I just wanted to say goodbye one last time,” she says with the sweetest voice.

  She stands up and dusts off some dirt from her dress. She smiles but I can see the sadness she’s trying to conceal; her eyes are filled with pain. She’s killing me. That smile disarms me, leaves me vulnerable like a two-year-old. I’ve got nothing against that smile. I want to kiss her so bad and her eyes… Oh, God, her eyes are so beautiful… But this is not the time or the place to let myself go and give in to me desires.

  While we go up the slope towards the car, I say, “I understand how you feel, Sarah, but by going down there, you increased the risk of being noticed. It’s not safe. You promised to play by the rules.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was walking down the hill until I was already there.”

  “Alright. Let’s just get out of here. Get in the car.” She circles around the front of the car. I open the driver’s door and hear a twig snap behind me.

  Someone’s here.

  I turn around and see a guy walking towards me with a gun in his hand. He’s not blinking, meaning he’s focused and the arm holding the gun looks relaxed at waist level, giving me the idea that this is not the first time he points a gun at someone. The trigger is not pulled back and the safety is also on.

  This guy is not gonna shoot me.

  I have to let him get close to me before I try to disarm him.

  “Don’t you fucking move,” he says to me. I say nothing back.

  “Bruno, what’s going on?” Sarah asks nervously.

  “Shut up, bitch!” A secon
d player yells at her.

  “You, turn around,” says the guy pointing the gun at me. I turn around and the second player is behind Sarah, holding a knife to her neck.

  You’re dead, pal.

  “Move an inch and my friend over there will start slicing your chick up.” He gets close to me and starts to frisk me with one hand. He’ll find my weapon soon. I have to do something.

  “Let me go!” Sarah screams.

  “Stay still, you fucking bitch, or me carving you up will be the least of your problems.”

  The guy frisking me is done with my left leg.

  “I’m not afraid of you, asshole,” she says. The guy punches her in the stomach.

  “There. You liked that? Did you fucking like that?” Sarah coughs and gasps for air.

  “Hey! Hey… you. I’m gonna put a bullet between your eyebrows.” He’s done with the right leg and is moving up to my waist.

  “Ha-ha! You ain’t doing jack shit, bro.” That’s it, keep distracting yourself and your partner.

  “Rat, shut your pie hole and keep her controlled.” His gun is visible to me and it’s not directly pointed at my body anymore.

  Now.

  I clutch my right arm next to my body, take a step back and to my left. I move my arm up and grab the guy’s wrist. I pull up with my hand and he fires a round while fighting me. I twist the wrist and he loses grip of the gun.

  “Arghh!” He’s now disarmed. I throw my elbow down and crash it on his face, making a loud thud. He grabs his bloody mouth and before he can react, I land a heel kick to his left knee, shattering his knee cap and probably damaging a few ligaments. He loses balance and falls down the slope.

  “Hey! You motherfu—”

  Bang.

  I keep my promise and put a bullet where I said I would.

  “Oh, my God!!” Sarah screams and covers her mouth with both hands.

  “Are you okay?” I say while walking towards her. “Sarah, are you okay?” She doesn’t answer me. Her eyes are fixed on Rat’s dead body.

  “I… I….” She mutters. I quickly check for injuries. I find one— a flesh wound made by the bullet the other idiot fired by reflex. I take off my suit jacket and put it on her.

  “Come on, let’s get in the car and get out of here,” I say while easing her on the passenger seat. I run to the driver’s side and glance at the bottom of the slope, only to find the other guy limping away. I don’t have time to chase him, we gotta go.

  I close the door and turn over the engine, which patiently purrs waiting for me to make it roar. My Aston Martin One-77 understands we’re in a hurry and as soon as I step on the gas, it delivers exceptional acceleration, allowing us to rocket away in a second. Having a car like this on your side is always an advantage. There are a few cars out there that can keep up with it and I doubt either of those two were riding something remotely capable.

  We are gliding over the road at nearly 150. I want to put distance between Sarah and that cemetery as fast as possible.

  I turn to my right to check on her and I see her sitting still and quiet, but her chest moves fast. She’s hyperventilating.

  “You okay there, Sarah?” She says nothing back. “Come on, talk to me. I know we just went through something shitty, but you need to let it out.” I’m trying to play this cool, but…

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  It ain’t working! I knew this was going to happen! I shouldn’t have brought her along. I put her on harm’s way, letting my stupid ‘I-can-protect-her-anywhere’ attitude get in the way.

  Twenty minutes go by and Sarah’s still not saying a word. Her face looks tired and it’s a bit pale. She’s also sweating a lot. Granted, that’s something to be expected when you get shot in the arm.

  Flesh wound or not, I must find a place for us to crash for the rest of the day. It’s not safe for us to be driving around after what happened. I’m sure that limping asshole already reported back to his gang.

  I pull over at a motel conveniently located right off the highway, cash only, according to the neon sign outside. I park in the parking lot and check on her again.

  “Why are we stopping?” She finally says something.

  “We need to lay low for a while, and I’m not gonna pretend that wound is not there.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

  “No, you are not fine. Let me take a look at you.” I reach for her arm.

  “Ouch!” She moves her arm away from my hand.

  “I know it hurts, but we need to make sure it hasn’t worsened.” I fucking hate this. She’s hurt because I’m an idiot.

  Focus, Bruno.

  I really need to tend to that wound.

  I move the car to the front of the motel, right by the registration office. From the outside, I can only see one receptionist bored to death and nobody else around. This is good.

  “Hey, I’m in a hurry…” I say as soon as I walk in “…I need a room, please.” I start counting notes.

  “Sure. Fifteen dollars an hour and eighty for the night.”

  “I’ll take it.” I put the eighty on top of the counter, but she doesn’t move an inch.

  “Huh… ID?”

  “Sure.” I take a fifty-dollar bill and add it to the rest.

  She raises her left eyebrow, thinks for a second, grabs the cash, counts it and says. “You’re fifty bucks short.”

  You little shit.

  “Am I now…” I take another fifty and put it on top of the counter, holding it down with my index finger. She tries to grab it but I’m still holding it. She looks up at me. “You can take this, but no phone calls of any kind under any circumstances, and you’ll fetch me dinner later as well. Deal?”

  She looks back at the bill, then at me and says, “Deal.” She turns around and takes the room key.

  “Thanks.” I grab the key and go towards the door.

  “No shenanigans, okay?” I chuckle.

  I get back on the car and drive around to the side of the motel. She gave me a room in the west part of the facility. When we arrive, I notice that this wing is under construction. Clever girl. I park the car in a corner spot next to a container filled with rubble. The rear end of the car faces the wall, just in case we have to get the hell out of dodge. I turn off the engine and pop the trunk. I walk towards it and grab the first aid kit.

  “Let’s go inside, so I can take care of you.” We both walk to the room.

  It’s an upper level room and I carry Sarah through a rusty and noisy flight of stairs, making it impossible to move quietly. The balcony walkway that leads to the room has nothing out of the ordinary. I open the door and we enter the room. The smell of bleach is strong enough to make my eyeballs burn. I guess I’d rather have a room soaked in bleach than a plague of whatever it is that lurks around here. From the back windows, you can see a dark road with no street lights, probably used by the employees and/or any shameful customers. In any case, it’s a liability. We better keep the blinds closed.

  I take her to the bathroom and make her sit on the toilet.

  “Sit here and stay still,” I say while grabbing a pair of scissors from the first aid kit.

  I cut the suit jacket sleeve and reveal the wound. I turn the shower on to mask the screams that are about to come out of her. I clean the wound with some gauze drenched in hydrogen peroxide to prevent an infection.

  “Take a deep breath, I need to give you stitches.”

  “Just do it.”

  I give her the first stitch and she doesn’t even flinch. I’m amazed by her endurance to this type of things.

  After the third stich is done, I apply a bandage to keep the wound covered.

  “All done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Here we are once again. I’m inflicting pain upon her, and she’s taking it like a pro.

  She truly is resilient.

  CHAPTER 25

  SARAH

  I’m coughing and gasping for air.

  My stomach pulsates with pain
after taking a punch.

  A gun fires once.

  A loud thud and a painful moan follows.

  An unfinished slur interrupted by another gunshot.

  The whistling bullet is loud enough to wake me up.

  I sit up on the bed, scared by the nightmare. “Easy,” Bruno says before I even realize where I am. He’s walking towards me. I’m trying to focus my eyes on him but for some reason I can’t— I’m feeling a little drowsy. I embrace myself to shake the fear away. “Don’t touch the bandages,” he says as he prevents my hand from reaching my right arm.

  Bandages?

  I look at my right arm and there they are. Seeing them makes me remember: I got shot yesterday and Bruno gave me stitches. “Son of a bitch…” I whisper. Bruno chuckles, turns back and walks towards the windows. Then, he moves the curtain out of the way with his gun to peek outside.

  “We’re not safe here. As soon as the sun comes up, we’re moving,” he claims.

  “Why am I not in pain right now?”

  “That’s the opium in you, doing its job.”

  “You drugged me?”

  “Hardly. I just gave you enough to take the edge off your pain. I can hold it off if you prefer, but I advise against it.” This explains the drowsiness. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving, actually. But if this is not a safe place, then I guess I can wait.” I don’t want to risk getting shot again— I’m not that hungry or high.

  He slowly moves his heavy legs from the window to the side table, picks up the phone, punches a few numbers in and says, “I got Andrew Jackson here asking about our deal,” after a few seconds he says, “sounds good,” and hangs up.

  Fifteen minutes later, someone knocks on the door. He peeks from the side window, shifts the gun from his left to his right hand and hides it behind his back, then proceeds to open the door.

  “There’s an ice machine in the back,” a female says.

  “Good to know,” he replies and hands over a twenty-dollar bill he just pulled from his pocket. He grabs a pizza box with a paper bag on top. The door clicks shut and he engages the dead bolt. “Dinner’s here.”

  Thank God.

  “Who was that?” I ask.