by Schafer, Ben
And snagged it out of the air with his left.
He fired without aiming, but at this range it was hard to miss. The round hit me in the ribs on my left side. My jacket caught the bullet and absorbed much of the force, redirecting what would have otherwise been a fatal shot. It hurt like hell and probably cracked a rib or two. That wound, and the shock of the sudden impact, was enough to knock me flat on my ass.
I saw that the slide of that weapon was locked back, meaning that Abbas was out of ammunition. I was sure that he would have another magazine somewhere on his person, but he would have to reload first. Abbas knew that, too, and he wasn’t about to let me take advantage of him during that time.
Abbas smiled and stepped forward, putting his boot on my chest. It was the same technique I had used to control Nadir. I had no time to appreciate the irony. I winced in pain, and the big man seemed to notice. He twisted his foot back and forth, pressing his weight onto my wounded ribs.
I looked up and the blood drained from my face. Odd as it may sound, it wasn’t the huge soldier with the bulky weapon pointed at my face that scared me. In the chaos of the fight, I failed to notice two very important things. The first was that, without the operator to stop it, the crane above us was going to collide with one of the lighting towers and send its cargo crashing to the ground. The second thing was that Hashim, fleeing the fight, had placed himself directly in its path. In a matter of seconds, a rain of steel rods would come down on the boy’s head.
And here I was: bloody, bruised, and in no position to get to him in time.
Abbas noticed the terror on my face and his mouth spread into a wide grin. Then he realized that I wasn’t looking at him. He took a brief, hesitant glance over his shoulder. The smile died. He recognized the impending disaster, as well.
Abbas turned his head back toward me. His dark, shark-like eyes seemed to bore a hole into my soul. He considered the empty gun in his hand. I could almost see the thoughts rush through his mind. He was a few feet closer to Hashim than I was and he was still on his feet. There was still a chance for him to save his son, but to do so he would have to turn his back on a deadly enemy. That choice would define his entire life.
In the end, it was no choice at all.
Abbas tossed the gun aside and sprinted toward Hashim, each long stride taking him closer to his son. Given his injuries, that full-out sprint must have hurt like hell. Abbas never hesitated. As I watched, bruised and helpless, the crane seemed to have picked up speed. Abbas would be cutting it extremely close.
The boom arm of the crane collided with the lighting tower. A reverberating crash echoed across the concrete. Shattered glass fell from the broken light bulbs and the tower swayed ominously but remained upright. For a brief second, nothing else happened and I thought that Abbas and I had worried over nothing. Then slowly, almost gracefully, the steel rods twisted up into the air and the cable snapped.
Abbas moved like a freight train, arms pumping in time with his legs. He threw himself forward and shoved his son out of the path of the deadly shower of steel rods. Hashim wasn’t ready for the blow. The boy landed hard, slamming against the side of a shipping container. He stirred for a moment, then went still.
Abbas, meanwhile, landed on his belly. He had just enough time to roll onto his back before a cascade of metal crashed down all around him. When the dust finally settled, I could see three long pieces of rebar sticking out of his chest and abdomen. It was a grisly way to go, but I couldn’t help admiring his sacrifice. He was still an evil bastard, but his last act proved that human beings can’t be quantified quite that easily.
I made my way to Hashim, taking care not to trip over any of the debris. I nearly collapsed in relief when I saw his little chest rise and fall in regular intervals. The boy’s eyes were closed. I gave him a gentle shake. He awoke, unsteady at first, then seized up in sudden fear.
I pulled him tight to my chest, both to comfort him and to prevent him from getting a glimpse of his father’s remains. “You’re okay.” I brushed the hair away from his forehead and kissed it. “You’re okay. Let’s get you out of here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
MY pursuit and subsequent fight with Abbas ate up a lot of time. I didn’t realize exactly how much until I caught a glimpse of the dashboard clock in the dump truck. My window of opportunity was slamming shut. If I didn’t get Hashim back to the Haroutyoun soon, we would both be stuck in Syria.
I felt guilty about stealing the truck, but it was the only logical option. It wasn’t pretty, and it definitely wasn’t fast, but it sure beat walking the whole way. As two brown security cars with blazing lights shot past us, it occurred to me that the dump truck had another advantage: invisibility. Security forces, alerted by reports of gunfire and the testimony of the panicked crane operator, would be swarming the scene in minutes. But as armed men in uniforms began scouring the port for the shooter, they would overlook our truck as merely one of dozens of construction vehicles roaming the area.
There was no way that I could repay the owners of the truck. What little money I had was already spent and I had nothing of real value to trade. The best that I could do was not bleed all over the seats. I glanced down to see that I was failing at that, too.
I growled and clenched the steering wheel. Despite my assurances to Azima, I had a sickening feeling that Captain Grimm would be long gone by the time I returned. If that was the case, I had begun to form a hasty plan to steal a small boat from the harbor and make my way to Lebanon. From there, I could get a message to the Haroutyoun, either to organize a rendezvous with the ship at a friendly port or to discover their destination so Hashim and I could meet them there. While that could work, it required a lot of things to happen in my favor. There were far too many things that could go wrong, but it was better than doing nothing.
I began taking a mental inventory of the ships we passed, both the small boats I could steal and the larger ships that we could sneak aboard. My attention was so focused on that task I nearly missed the obvious. It was only when I pulled to a stop beside a battered Proton Arena, the truck that had carried us from Rastan, that I noticed the Haroutyoun was still waiting for us in its berth. If the churning water at the ship’s stern was any indication, it wasn’t going to wait long. The large ship gave the impression of a powerful beast barely restrained on a leash.
I wasted no time. I grabbed Hashim and carried him up the gangplank. The moment my feet hit the main deck, the gangplank began to retract and the crew cast off the lines that held the ship to the dock. The engine chugged fiercely, and the ship began moving.
“Kyle!” I heard Azima shout. I was already off-balance from the sudden burst of acceleration. When she appeared out of nowhere and rushed toward me I lost my footing entirely. Azima, her arms wrapped around my neck, squealed as we went down together in a heap. She giggled as she tried to extract herself. Then she noticed the blood on my shirt. “Oh, Kyle, I’m so sorry!” She raised herself up to a kneeling position, and looked to one of the crew members busily preparing the Haroutyoun for its departure. “We need a doctor over here!”
I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine.” I assured her. “The jacket absorbed most of the impact. It just looks,” I winced as I stood, “and feels worse than it actually is.” Azima’s golden eyes never wavered from the bloodstain on my shirt. I raised my hands in surrender, ignoring the ache that came with the motion. “Fine. I’ll get down to the ship’s medic as soon as I can. Deal?”
She considered it for a moment. “Deal.” Azima turned her attention to Hashim. She hugged her son as if he had come back from the dead. “I never thought I’d see you again!”
“That’s not entirely true,” Nadir said. I looked over Azima’s shoulder to see him, along with his wife, smiling at us. Aside from them, a handful of sailors also wandered around the deck. They paid us no mind as they performed their jobs. “She refused to let Captain Grimm leave the harbor without you.”
I raised one eyebrow.
“Really?”
Azima shrugged. “He didn’t take that much convincing. Beneath that gruff exterior, the captain’s a good man.”
“Don’t say that too loud,” one of the passing sailors said with mock seriousness. “He might hear you.”
I watched for a moment as Azima continued to smother her son with affection. I decided to give them a private moment, so I rose to my feet and took a few steps toward Nadir and Khamilah.
“You should have someone look at that,” Nadir pointed to my bloody shirt.
“I’ve had worse. It would have been much uglier if you hadn’t stepped in. Thanks for the covering fire back at the warehouse,” I told him. “You really saved our butts.” More seriously, I added, “I’m sorry that I forced you into a situation where you had to compromise your principles.”
Nadir waved the concern away. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I chose to come along with you. I chose to take up that rifle.”
He hesitated. “I didn’t do it just for you. I did it for Jamil. He made some bad choices, but he was a good man in his own way. He remained loyal to his cause. In return, Abbas killed him without hesitation. No one deserves to be treated like that. Not by someone who is supposed to be a friend.”
I nodded in understanding. Nadir knew what it was like to be betrayed by supposed friends when the circumstances conspired against him. It made sense that he would feel a sense of empathy toward Jamil.
“In some ways this is a blessing,” Khamilah added. She kissed her husband on the cheek. “Now you can be the man God wants you to be instead of the man that the government told you to be.”
Nadir put his arm around his wife. “Now we can be who God wants us to be,” he said. “No matter what the future brings, we can finally face it with hope instead of fear.”
“Yeah.” I glanced over my shoulder at Azima and Hashim. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Khamilah cuddled up to her husband. “I’m so sorry for the mess that I caused.”
Nadir stroked her hair. “Think nothing of it, my love.”
“I was going to tell her to never forget it.”
Nadir frowned. “What do you mean?”
I looked in Khamilah’s eyes. “Look, what you did had consequences. I don’t pretend to understand the full scope of those consequences. What I can tell you is that they won’t end here. But,” I added in a softer tone, “if you remember the lessons of the past couple of days, you will be much stronger in the long run. That is a consequence I do understand.”
“In that spirit,” Nadir said, “let me once again apologize for my role in—”
I held up a hand to silence him. “Stop. I’ve accepted your apology already. That doesn’t mean that I want to keep hearing about it.”
Nadir grimaced. “Of course.”
Azima came up behind me with Hashim at her heels. “What are we talking about over here?” she asked.
“Nadir and Khamilah were just offering to take Hashim inside for some dinner.” I gave them a brief tilt of my chin. “Wasn’t that right?”
“Uh, well,” Nadir stammered.
“Absolutely,” Khamilah interjected. She offered an outstretched hand. “Come along, little one. Let’s get you something to eat.”
“I am really hungry.” Hashim looked up at his mother. “Can I go, Mom?”
I met Azima’s gaze and gave her a slight nod. She must have understood, because she tousled Hashim’s hair and said, “Sure. But hold someone’s hand the whole time.”
“I will, Mom.” Hashim took Khamilah’s hand, and she led the boy toward the superstructure at the rear of the ship. He stopped a few feet away when he realized that the rest of us were not following. “Aren’t you coming, Mr. Kyle?”
I shook my head. “I’m not very hungry. But maybe later I can convince Captain Grimm to give us a tour of his ship.”
Hashim grinned at the thought. “Really? I’d like that.”
“I thought you might, kiddo. Now go on ahead. Your mom and I will be inside shortly.”
Khamilah and Hashim continued on toward the ship’s mess. Nadir stayed behind a moment longer, then seemed to pick up the vibe that I wanted to talk to Azima alone. He chuckled sheepishly, then broke into a stiff trot to catch up with his wife.
Before they passed out of earshot, I heard Khamilah laugh at something Hashim told her. She said to her husband, “When we get to our new home, what would you think about adopting a child of our own?”
Nadir looked back at me, his eyes as wide as saucers at the unexpected proposition. I just shrugged at him. That was his battle. Now it was time for me to face one of my own.
Azima watched as her son went inside, then turned her attention to me. “You killed him, didn’t you?” she said without preamble. She was referring, of course, to her former husband.
“Technically, I—” I stopped. She deserved better than a technicality. I blew out a sharp breath. “He left me no choice.”
Azima looked down at her feet. “I don’t know why I expected that things would be different. He would never abandon his legacy,” she spat the last word as if it was venom. “Not if there was an ounce of strength in him.”
I took a cautious step toward her. “You should know that his last act was that of a hero. He saved Hashim’s life, sacrificing his own in the process.”
She rubbed her arms nervously. “Are we going to talk about . . . you know?” I had no idea, so she continued. “About what happened in the Russian base?”
“I already spoke to Nadir about that,” I replied.
“Oh.” Azima blinked. “Uh, you did?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I thanked him for protecting us from those soldiers. He says he’s fine with it, but I know that it must have been hard for him.”
“Yes, I suppose it was,” she conceded. “But I meant what happened after that. Before you left to chase Abbas.” A strange look passed over her features. “You kissed me.”
Oh. That.
I sighed. “Look, I was just wrapped up in the moment,” I explained. “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
She met my eyes and gave me a slight smile. “Don’t be. It was nice.”
I noticed that she had taken another step toward me. We were very close now, so close that I could feel the faint touch of her breath on my cheek. “‘Nice,’ huh? How nice?”
Her voice took on a smoky quality. “Very.” She leaned toward me until we were mere inches apart.
I didn’t need any more encouragement. I threw away all of my doubts, all of my guilt, and allowed myself to enjoy the experience. Our lips met, and all of the pain and loneliness and fear washed away, replaced by a warm contentment. I could stay like this forever.
After a subjective eternity, I broke off the kiss. “Come on,” I whispered, our lips still so close that they brushed with every word. “We should get inside.”
“Mmm,” she murmured as she cuddled up against me. “I like it just fine out here.”
I smiled and ran a hand through her hair, then planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Me too. But the others are waiting for us.” I took a step back. “Follow me.” I extended a hand to her.
She took it and nodded. “Anywhere.”
CHAPTER FORTY
CAPTAIN Grimm took an evasive route in case Syrian intelligence was desperate enough to follow us into international waters. As a result, it took three days to get to our destination: Catania, Sicily. It wasn’t the final step of the journey for the refugees, but it was my last stop with them. I was supposed to wait in Catania until Cuvier showed up to debrief me about the mission. I had no intention of sticking around that long. With any luck, I would be on a plane with Azima by the end of the day, soaring to our new life together.
Two men in identical black suits and red ties were waiting for us at the dock. Two of our Squires, more than likely, experienced enough to be entrusted with a task like this without someone here to hold their hand. I recognized one of the men, the one with jet-black
hair and neatly trimmed goatee. He the guard who escorted Cuvier and I to the Operations Center when Hannigan gave me the briefing and started this mess. Hard to believe that it had been less than a week ago.
Hannigan’s men shook hands with each member of the group individually. When they got to me, I held out my hand. Goatee-guy stared at it, then folded his arms. “You’re late,” he said in English with the faint hint of an Italian accent lurking in the corners. “Hannigan’s pissed.”
I withdrew my hand. “Hannigan’s always pissed.” I looked up and down the dock. “Is Cuvier here?” I glanced at Azima, who was excitedly pointing out all the different boats to her son. I cleared my throat. “I need to get a message to him.”
“You can tell him when you debrief,” Goatee-guy said.
I almost told the smug young man that there wasn’t going to be a debriefing because I was going to quit. But I didn’t want there to be any negative repercussions for Cuvier. I simply nodded. “I’ll do that. Thanks for being here.”
Goatee-guy had been ready for a full-on snark attack. I could see it in his eyes. He was caught off-guard by my non-threatening, even appreciative, reply. He loosened his posture a bit. “Sorry if I came off like a jerk. Captain Grimm told us a bit of what you did over there. If half of what he said is true, you’re a damned hero.”
I blinked. If Captain Grimm had given the story, I probably wouldn’t even need to debrief. I also had faith that he hadn’t embellished my role in events, either. “Uh, thanks.”
He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I just passed my qualifiers to become a Knight. I start training next week, and I need to know something. Does this sort of thing . . .” He worked his jaw a bit. “I mean to ask will I have to do stuff like that if I become a Knight?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.” Something Father Abiad told me came to mind. “But I have faith that the Lord will grant you strength to be equal to the task.”
I looked at the man in front of me, that nervous anxiety bubbling up underneath a cocky exterior, and saw what Cuvier probably saw in me. “That means a lot coming from a veteran like you,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Vincenzo. Vincenzo Riva.”