by Arno Joubert
The Captain nodded thoughtfully, then looked up at him with those intense eyes. “Why is there a feeding pen for the cats in the basement of the refinery?”
Ryan chuckled. “Well, that’s how Fitch discovered the shale. About thirty years ago, he caught an Ocelot and tamed it.” He scratched his chin. “It came home one day covered in an oily slick. At first he thought the cat had gotten into the refinery somehow. But the oil on the cat’s fur was different.”
Laiveaux stopped pacing. “Different? How?”
“Premium light sweet crude, the best stuff in town.”
“So Fitch followed the cat?” Alexa asked.
“Yep, followed it to its den. Close by was a warm water spring and the crude bubbled from it like liquid gold.”
Alexa tapped her lower lip with an index finger. “So he reckons the cats were responsible for making him rich?”
“Said they were sent to him by God. And you look after your lucky charms.”
Alexa’s eyebrows arched. “And that is obviously the reason why people aren’t aloud to drill in Dabbort?”
Ryan gave a cynical smile. “Well, we can’t risk someone striking a stratum of shale or oil in one of the catchments, now could we?”
“But why spread the rumor that the Ocelots were extinct?” she asked.
“We didn’t want nosy tourists sneaking around. And we sure as hell didn’t need the tourism dollars.”
“The tanker that exploded, was it carrying liquid gas?” Laiveaux asked.
Ryan nodded. “Yes, we use it to heat the metal rods. Brent crude will sure as hell not explode the way it did in the tanker truck.”
Laiveaux held up a hand. “Okay, that all makes sense. But why would no-one go to the authorities?” He pulled his fingers through his short grey hair. “Surely someone else must have known about the shale?”
“My dear General. Gypsies do not blabber their secrets out to anyone.”
Alexa’s eyes widened. “Everyone here are gypsies?”
“Everyone, but Patricia.” Ryan leaned back in the chair. “And the Becks. Fitch needed them for their geological knowledge, we didn’t have specialists in the community, and we were running out of time to get someone trained to become a specialist.”
“Patricia?” Laiveaux asked.
Ryan nodded. “Patricia McBride. Patsy up at Mo’s diner.”
The Captain nodded slowly, pursing her lips. She glanced up at Ryan. “You’re a gypsy as well?”
Ryan nodded.
“But I thought gypsies stopped going to school at the age of sixteen, even younger? And you’re a doctor?” she asked.
“Becoming a billionaire changes things, and we had the resources and time. I went to study and learn what was needed to set up and run an oil refinery.”
“Is Missy a gypsy as well?” she asked.
He closed his eyes and sighed softly. This was worse than the damn Spanish Inquisition. “Yes, a dark face. She joined us fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, her husband died of cancer when she was still a young woman.”
The Captain nodded thoughtfully, then turned to Laiveaix. “I guess Missy has some explaining to do.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mary-Lou sat on the edge of the windowsill, her favorite doll on her lap. She gave it a hug. “Don’t worry, Katy. Momma’s gonna look after you.” She cradled the doll in her arms and rocked it gently. “Hush now baby, close your eyes, momma’s gonna sing you a lullaby.”
She hummed the song that her momma used to sing, she couldn’t remember the words anymore. Grandma Pauline had sung it once, but momma’s version was sweeter.
Mary-Lou opened the yellowing lace curtain an inch and peered outside. The man that had spanked mommy was there again. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked up at her with a scary grin, then tipped his hat at her.
She pulled the curtains together and bolted to her bunk-bed. She tossed Katy on her cushion, pulled the sheet from the top mattress over the opening to her bunk, and made sure that no-one could see into her stronghold.
She lay down on her back and lifted her legs in the air, examining her toes. They were muddy and black from the dirty river where she liked to play with the cats. Grandma Pauline says the mud is a bitch to wash off, almost like trying to wash the black off of you.
She liked the cats. Bella was her favorite. She knew her name was Bella because Grandma Pauline called her that when she came to fetch her kitty snack. Grandma Pauline knew most of them. She counted the names on her fingers. Bella, Bradshire, Raven, Mooky, Cockeye, Blackback.
Mooky was gone, she hadn’t come for a visit in ages. But Blackback and Cockeye had been here last night. Grandma Pauline shooed them away, she said that they were sick. Grandma didn’t put any food out for them this morning either. And she wasn’t allowed to go playing with them no more.
She rolled over on her stomach, pulled a stack of papers from beneath the bed and started arranging them neatly in front of her. The nasty man downstairs made her shiver. The pictures she had drawn made her feel better, somehow less afraid. She always felt better about scary things after she drew them. Then they’re not as scary anymore, because she made them herself.
She paged through the papers, searching for a blank one. She found one and stared up at the bunk above her, pursed her lips and thought for a while. She drew what she could remember, her tongue squiggling over her lips as she draw. It had been two birthdays ago. The nasty man had pointed his finger in momma’s face, shouting at her. Momma cried, begged the man to leave her alone. He gave her a hiding to her stomach, and momma held onto the man’s legs, sobbing like a baby.
Then he kicked and kicked until momma could cry no more because she didn’t have eyes to cry out of, she didn’t have a face no more. And then the man turned to her and smiled and pointed a gun at her and the fire exploded from the gun. She felt a warm sting in her head, and something hot running down her cheek and down her back. And then she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.
After that, everything changed. Momma and the nasty man went away. Grandma Pauline picked her up at the hospital, told her that momma was in heaven and the nasty man was gone.
But he wasn’t. He was right there outside her window, laughing at her.
Alexa felt dog-tired, but she couldn’t sleep. She massaged her stiff limbs, then sat up in her bunk. It was useless, as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw haunting images of Neil’s final moments, his body bouncing on the ground as the bullets ripped through him, the pained grimace on his face.
She felt desperately alone. She thought about Mary-Lou and how fond Neil had been of her. She glanced at her watch, quarter past eight. She stood up and sauntered to the mess tent. Four men stood up as soon as she entered. “Where’s Major Bryden?”
Major Joel Rosh stepped forward. “Sleeping.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “His on watch from two AM.”
Alexa nodded. “I need a lift to the Ocelot Inn.”
Rosh touched her elbow. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy, Captain?”
Alexa stuck a tuft of hair behind her ear, then shrugged. “I can walk if I must, you know?”
The Major smiled and clicked his fingers. “Keys please.”
A soldier threw a set of keys to Rosh, they jingled in Rosh’s hand as he caught them. “Come on then, I’ll be your designated driver.” He strode to the exit and Alexa followed, jogging to keep up.
“So what’s so important up at the Ocelot Inn?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Alexa shrugged. “I guess there’s a little girl that I need to see.”
Rosh stopped and studied her face. He pursed his lips then turned around again, heading toward the vehicles. He unlocked the Humvee and held the door open for her, then slid into the driver’s seat.
Rosh glanced at her as they drove, the soft glow of a streetlight casting shadows over the deep furrows around his mouth and brow. “I’m sorry.”
Alexa nodded, staring straight ahead.
A
lexa was out of the door before the car came to a stop in the parking area of the Ocelot Inn and started jogging up the walkway toward the reception area, Rosh following close behind. She strode into the reception office and rang the bell on the counter.
Alexa heard the beat of tiny feet pounding down the wooden stairway. Mary-Lou pulled a chair from behind the counter, and climbed on top.
“Good, day. My name is Mary-Lou, how may I be of assistance?” she reeled off.
Alexa almost cried. “Missy at Bingo night again?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Mary-Lou leaned on the counter and shook her head. “Nah, she’s sleeping.”
“Do you mind if we talk for a while?” Alexa asked.
Mary-Lou looked down at her feet and popped her thumb in her mouth. “Grandma Paula says we’re not supposed to be flapping our jaws to paying guests. She says loose lips sink ships.”
Mary-Lou glanced at Alexa, and then her face brightened. “But I’ll show you my den,” she said, bouncing up and down. She stuck her hand out to Alexa.
Alexa smiled and took it. She followed the young girl as she was unceremoniously dragged up the stairs, then Mary-Lou stopped and looked back. “But that man needs to stay here. Only girls allowed.”
Alexa winked at Rosh and followed Mary-Lou up the stairs. She pulled Alexa onto the bed, yanked the sheet off of the mattress on the top bed and tucked it into the lower bunk-bed, forming an enclosing wall around them. She crawled in beside Alexa. “This is Fort McHenry, like in Grandma Paula’s picture book.”
Alexa smiled, admiring the interior of her makeshift fort. “Nice.”
Mary-Lou nodded. “It’s invisible,” she said, beaming at Alexa. “Grandma Paula says I’ll always be safe here.”
Alexa laughed, gave Mary-Lou a hug and planted a kiss on her forehead.
Mary-Lou giggled. “Where is uncle Neil?”
“He’s resting,” Alexa said with a strained voice, her throat constricting as she spoke. She swallowed, trying to blink away the painful memory. “Are these your pictures?” she picked up a drawing.
She studied the picture and sucked in a deep breath. A man with a cowboy hat was kicking a woman lying on the ground. The woman’s hand was covering her head, the other hand in the air, begging for mercy.
“What the…?” She flipped to the next one and saw a drawing of Mary-Lou as a toddler; an obvious self-portrait, but her head was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages.
The next one was of Missy sitting in a chair, her hands covering her face. Andy Fitch was leaning over her threateningly, a finger jabbing in her face.
Next was the inn being constructed. Sweaty men were hoisting ceiling beams and rafters, half a dozen pictures of the inn at various stages of completion.
She flipped to the next page and her eyes widened in shock. Her hand started shaking as she brought the picture closer to her eyes. A man wearing a cowboy hat was shouting at Mary-Lou, a finger jammed in her face. The man was Bis Latorre.
“Who is this?” she asked Mary-Lou, pointing to the picture.
Mary-Lou put her thumb is her mouth. “That’s my daddy,” she said and looked up at Alexa. “Grandma Paula says he be a bad man, he killed mommy. She says it’s best to stay away from him.” She pointed to the window. “He always be lookin’ at me with a bad smile.”
“Outside?” Alexa asked.
Mary-Lou nodded.
Alexa jumped off the bed and dashed to the window. A man in dark clothes stood, looking up at the window. He tipped an invisible hat at Alexa and waved. And then a loud explosion blasted through the inn. Flickering shadows were cast over his face, and a warm glow emanated from the kitchen window.
Alexa spun around and ran to Mary-Lou as she realized that the building was on fire.
Alexa ran toward the door and peered out. Two shots barked and splintered chunks of wood from the doorframe. She ducked back inside, bolted to the window and pushed it open. Mary-Lou was watching her frantic movements with her thumb stuck in her mouth.
Another explosion shook the building as Alexa grabbed Mary-Lou’s hand and made her stand beside the bed. She ripped the sheet from the bed and pulled the lid off the toilet tank. She dunked the sheets in the tank and shouted over her shoulder. “Come on, Mary-Lou. I’m going to show you how to climb out the window like a monkey.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide. “That’s dangerous. Grandma Missy told me never to climb out of the window.” Mary-Lou shook her little finger. “She said she would beat the black off me.”
Alexa pulled the sheet from the tank, spilling water on the floor. “It’s okay when I am here,” Alexa said and started winding the sheet tight, forming three loops in a trefoil.
She looked around, and picked a cup up from a side table. “Come, I need to make us wet so we don’t get warm.” Mary-Lou stood making a fuss as Alexa sloshed water over them. She instructed Mary-Lou to climb into the two smaller loops and pulled the loops all the way up to the girl’s bottom.
“Okay, Mary-Lou, grab my neck and hold on tight. Don’t look down.” She hoisted Mary-Lou onto her back and slipped the larger loop over her neck. She was light as a feather. “Wait,” Mary-Lou shouted. “My pictures.”
Alexa ran to the bed and bundled the drawings into the front of her jersey. She leaned out of the window and peered down, climbed out of the window and swung her legs over the sill. She swung her entire body out of the window and stood precariously on the sill, the young girl gripping tightly around her neck. “Okay, hold on tight, here we go,” Alexa said. She lunged and caught a gutter to the side of the building, suppressing the urge to scream as the pain shot through her shoulder and neck. This was not helping the healing process. She shifted her hands over each other, following the gutter around the side of the building.
Alexa inched her feet downward, looked over her shoulder, measuring the six foot drop to the roof of the balcony below. She let go and dropped lightly onto the roof, then wiped the cold beads of perspiration from brow with the back of her hand and looked up. Flames started licking out of Mary-Lou’s window.
Alexa peered down from the second story and saw a man run toward her, looking up. It was Sergeant Quentin Mallais.
“Captain, are you okay up there?” he shouted.
“I’m fine,” Alexa shouted and pointed to the back of the building. “An armed assailant forced me this way, go check if Major Rosh is okay.”
He nodded and ran to the back of the building and disappeared around the corner.
Alexa crouched and swung over the gutter of the roof. She felt with her feet, and found a secure footing on the balcony railing below her. She shuffled to her left, then grabbed onto a corner post of the balcony. She jumped on, gripping with her arms and her thighs and slid down. They landed on the ground and Alexa minimized the impact by bending her legs and landing on all fours.
She lifted Mary-Lou from her back and put her down on the ground. The girl clapped her hands and giggled. “That was fun. Let’s go again!”
Alexa smiled and patted her head. “Maybe tomorrow.” Her shoulder was throbbing, and she uncapped the Ketamine and tossed two more tablets in her mouth.
She grabbed the girl’s hand and jogged to reception. Sergeant Quentin Mallais stood crouched over Major Rosh’s body, his finger on the man’s neck. He glanced up as Alexa approached and shook his head.
“Stay here, Mary-Lou.”
Alexa ran up to Quentin. “Shot in the back of the head,” Quentin said as she knelt beside him.
“Any sign of her grandmother?” Alexa asked, jerking her head to the little girl. Quentin shook his head again.
“OK, get her to safety.” She scanned the burning building. “I need to find Missy.”
She peered into the reception area; the first floor was already on fire. “Shit,” she mumbled, then shrugged and leapt inside, lunging up the stairs three at a time. She covered her face with an arm and ran into the passageway on the second floor. She saw Missy, crouching at the far end of the passage
, smoke billowing over her. Alexa bolted forward. “Are you all right?” she asked, crouching next to her, her arm hugging her shoulder protectively.
Missy nodded, soot-faced, her eyes red and teary. “I cannot breathe,” she said with a hoarse voice, clutching her throat as she gagged.
Alexa grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, “OK, follow me.”
Missy resisted, pulling back like a stubborn mule. “No, I need to get Mary-Lou.”
“She’s safe.” Alexa squeezed her hand.
A puffy hand fluttered to her heart. “Oh, thank God.”
Alexa pulled her down the smoky passageway, then stopped and looked back. The stairs were ablaze, thing tongues of flames seeping into the cracks between the woodwork. It wasn’t going to hold. Alexa took a deep breath and glanced back at Missy. “We’ll have to do this, it’s our only way out.”
Missy pursed her lips, uncertain, her hand still clutching at her throat.
“Let’s go!” Alexa shouted and yanked the woman’s arm, pulling her down the staircase.
They pounded down the stairs, Alexa wincing as the larger woman’s weight caused the stairs to creak and shudder beneath them. They got halfway down before it gave in, Alexa holding her arms above her head as the structure crashed to the ground, burning embers falling on top of them. Alexa crawled out of the pile of smoldering wood as Quentin pulled Missy free. She was unconscious.
Together, they dragged her onto the grass, her undergarment was on fire, and Alexa smelled the sickening stench of burning human flesh.
She jogged to the tap and grabbed the hosepipe, opened it and extinguished the flames on Missy’s legs and dress.
Mary-Lou sauntered up, eyeing her grandmother’s unconscious body suspiciously. “Is grandma okay?” she asked, sucking her thumb. “She was burning.”
Alexa cast the Sergeant an irritated glance, then nodded and smiled at Mary-Lou. “She’s going to be just fine.”