She shimmered gold, green, and purple, then leaped off the ledge – diving for the deepest part of the lake. Shawn watched, his body unnaturally still. Then he turned back to Micah, pulling a crystal from his pocket.
"What's that for?" asked Micah.
"Protection." He didn’t elaborate further.
The light at the back of the tunnel was moving forward now, drawing Micah's attention. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes. It was a moot point; light was oozing from him as well. He couldn't stop it if he tried. He followed the pull, walking forward, merging his light with the other.
Chapter 15
Lake Kivu, Rwanda
Randy approached the thick wooden door at the end of the hall, hesitating only a few moments before raising his hand to knock.
No answer.
He sighed, then turned the handle to poke his head in. The news couldn't wait. "Sir? We have local protesters."
"And?" The manager didn't even look up from his laptop.
"And they are blocking the trucks from entering the work area." Randy entered the room, closing the door behind him.
"So run them over."
"Sir?"
His boss finally stopped clacking away on the keyboard and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, I'm not the decision maker here. I just make sure the big boss back home is happy. And what the big boss wants is for the trucks to get there, and the methane extraction to begin. I have enough to deal with this yahoo Rwandan company running operations on the barge." He rose and walked to his large picturesque window looking out at the expansive Lake Kivu.
Randy joined him at the window. "Who is the big boss?"
He shrugged. "Some majority shareholder – I don't know. Never met him. But the board has been backing all of his decisions." He turned on his second in command. "So if you want to keep your job, I suggest you take care of the situation."
Randy reluctantly left the office, wondering how in God's name he was going to get the trucks through. He should've listened to his wife and passed on the job. But the money offered couldn't be passed up, even after his teenage daughter's research on the lake revealed ominous warnings of the potential release of carbon dioxide into the air.
Randy boarded the small, motorized boat, and the driver motioned for him to sit as they bounced over the water. As they traveled, Randy decided his best bet would be to let the locals deal with the locals. The large KivuWatt barge in the middle of the lake grew bigger. Operations to separate and clean the gasses had been underway for more than a week. Precious gasses held underneath the lake could generate twenty-five megawatts of electrical capacity, thereby increasing Rwanda's energy generation capability by twenty times. With these stakes, the required approvals made it through the Rwandan government in record time.
About halfway to the barge, Randy heard a commotion back on the shore. People ran, covering their heads. Many stumbled and fell, quickly getting trampled in the panic that seemed to grip the entire shoreline. Had the protests gone south already?
Randy shook his head. Doesn't take long in this country.
But there was no gunfire, just screaming. Randy stood, realizing his tiny boat was vibrating from more than just the engine. The water around him rippled unnaturally. A loud rumbling, like a freight train shaking a city, started in the distance. Randy and the boat driver turned to look. Landslides. Several of them, dumping debris, buildings, and people into the lake.
Turning white, Randy shouted at the boat driver, "Gas masks!"
The driver looked at him, confused.
Randy began rummaging through the tiny storage bin on the boat, throwing aside life jackets and a first aid kit. "We need gas masks!"
Randy and his driver were in between the only two places where gas masks were stored. Randy yelled, "Help! Somebody help us!"
Their small boat was still moving forward, but there wasn't enough time to cover the distance. The boat veered off course, and Randy looked at the driver. He was clutching at his throat and chest, gurgling with the effort to breathe.
Randy screamed again, first at the barge, then to the shore. But everyone was succumbing to their own panic.
Ten seconds, Randy thought, while he stepped back from the driver, as far as the small boat would allow him to go. The asphyxiated brain loses consciousness in ten seconds. Randy tore off his shirt, dipped it in the lake water, and attempted to breathe the soaked cotton fibers instead of the poisoned air. It didn't work.
He began gasping, his lungs working to pull in oxygen. All they got was the deadly carbon monoxide released from the earthquake, or perhaps from the landslides caused by the earthquake. The sounds around him began to dull and his vision grayed out. By the time his body went overboard, splashing into the rippling lake, he was unconscious.
Chapter 16
Building an Army
Waiting for Andrés on Avenue Tekema was my new morning routine. I paced in front of the library, holding both our coffees in hand. They had already cooled. He pulled up in his scooter fifteen minutes late without a passenger roster in hand, or in his pants.
"Sorry, Chica. Couldn't get my hands on a list today. New boss." I handed him the coffee. He took a sip and made a face.
I stared him down, daring him to say something.
He cleared his throat, then quickly took another sip. "It's good."
"Hmm." I made a conscious effort not to retort. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep. Mostly, I paced the room ready in case Bee broke out in flames. Thus far, no incidents – but it would only take one. I didn't want to take it out on Andrés. I needed him and his damn lists; my first line of defense. I took a deep breath. "New boss? Why?"
He shrugged. "Just showed up today. Said Matthew quit. It was weird. I'm actually headed to Matt's place now to check up on him."
I frowned.
He put his arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry, Chica. I'll get those rosters. Same time tomorrow?"
"Uh, yeah. Minus fifteen minutes."
He smiled, then turned his attention to Bee, hanging on my back in her sling. "And good morning to you, honey bee."
She cooed, catching the finger he held up.
"Bzzz, bzzz."
She giggled at his pokes.
"See you tomorrow. Thanks for the coffee, Kaitlyn!"
I took a sip of my own coffee as Andrés started up his scooter and headed up the hill.
"Ugh. It is cold." I glanced at Bee over my shoulder and help up the cup. "A little help here?"
No response.
I rolled my eyes. "Some Fire you've turned out to be."
She squealed.
"I know, I know, grocery time." Her favorite part of the day.
What should've been a half hour walk through the market turned into an hour after all the appropriate stops to let everyone clamor over Bee. I obliged, mainly as I didn't have a choice. That, and the more friends we had on the island, the better. I wasn't above using Bee's dimples to rally the troops. I just wished the troops weren't so…talkative.
Island life was slow, laid back. Sandals and tank tops, outdoor markets, catching up with friends. Peaceful. Boring. Tolerable. Necessary.
Back at the bike, I loaded bags into the cart tethered to the back.
Bee sucked madly at her fist.
"Almost done," I assured her. "You can eat when we get home. Oh – shoot!"
One of the bags toppled, sending tomatoes rolling down the sidewalk.
"Dang it!" I half-heartedly gave chase. The few I caught were torn or bruised. "Well, no tomatoes for Mama's ensalada." We had picked the vines clean for our feast the other night.
I turned back to the bike. Someone coming out of the police station across the street caught my eye. I froze.
Micah.
He looked exactly the same as when I had left him. Unable to move, I peered closer. No – he wasn't the same. Dark circles hung from his eyes, and his cheeks were slightly sunken. He had lost weight. He ran his hand over his face, and leaned again
st the railing. He was exhausted.
A lump formed in my throat. I actually stepped off the curb of the sidewalk, toward him. The weight of Bee on my back caused me to pause, and reminded me all at once why I was here. I backed up onto the sidewalk, now panicking. I was wide open. All Micah had to do was look up. There was nowhere to hide. Damn this island's lack of trees.
Micah didn't look up. He looked behind him as someone else emerged from the station. Shawn. That one did look exactly the same as when I had last seen him, minus the knife protruding from his belly – the one I had stuck there. Micah was probably about to be ambushed. For some reason, my vocal chords were just as paralyzed as the rest of me.
No fight broke out. Shawn walked up beside Micah, then said something. Micah glanced at Shawn then said something back. They both chuckled. Chuckled!
Alex joined, making for a very traitorous threesome. He had been my best friend; the one with whom I shared everything – the whole pregnancy that Micah missed. I felt sick to my stomach, bile rose in my throat.
How did they find me? And so soon? I had done everything right. No trails. Not one.
No. No I had not done everything right. I hadn’t followed my original plan and gone to the caves. My laziness had got the best of me. I wanted the running water, and the soft couch. I stayed for the help and the food prepared for me every day. Now this was my punishment. I would’ve been okay had I just gone to the caves.
Bee let out a cry.
Like the crack of a pistol at a race, it threw me into action. I backed up further, looking to my right and left.
Which way to run?
A trolley pulled out of the visitor's center, rolling toward us.
I risked a glance back across the street. Two very green eyes returned my stare. Before, they had the power to root me to the spot. Not anymore. Not with Bee at stake. I ran forward, into the street, and straight at the tour bus.
*
As Shawn approached, Micah could almost feel the cold intentions coming off him in waves. Athame’s help or no, he should have come alone, without Shawn.
Shawn slapped Micah on the shoulder. "Feel that? I think we’ve found our girl. We should've never stopped in Yellowstone, first."
Micah smiled back at Shawn. "You better be on your best behavior. In fact, give me back the knife."
Shawn knew his way around the Shades better, but now that Micah had been there, and was able to locate Kaitlyn through her Shade, he certainly didn't need Shawn anymore.
"I don't think so," Shawn said. Both men's fists tightened in anticipation of a fight, fake smiles frozen on their face and false laughter coming out through their teeth.
Alex joined them, also plastered with a fake smile. "Come on you two, they’re still watching. Let’s just get across the street and go inside somewhere. Find someplace where we can figure out what to do next without raising any more suspicion than we apparently already have."
Shawn conceded first, gesturing to a coffee shop down and across the street. The three turned, but a baby's cry from directly across the street caught Micah's attention. His eyes met with Kaitlyn's. She backed away, and Micah felt like he had been punched in the gut. She was so damned beautiful, but her eyes were wide with panic. All this time looking for her – and she was about to run again. He couldn't let that happen.
He bored into her, selfishly willing her to stay. But the energy he put out bounced back, threefold, and knocked him on his ass. Alex obscured his view, trying to help him up. A tour bus passed, and she was no longer there.
A lump formed in Micah's throat. Was it an illusion? Couldn't be. He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. Her hair had grown even longer, and had several new sun-kissed streaks of blond overlaying her gorgeous brown locks. It was wavy, and almost as unkempt as it always was. The white cotton sundress she wore hugged her new, fuller curves. The look in her eyes had more determination than he had ever seen, despite being wide with panic.
Micah pushed himself up on his feet and raced into the road, looking for her. Nowhere to be seen. Good. Micah had brought the very man that could be her undoing to her doorstep.
"There!" He heard Shawn shout.
Micah's shoulders tensed, following Shawn's gaze toward the trolley.
Damn it, Micah thought. They all took off at a dead sprint down the street. Shawn chased the bus, Micah and Alex chased Shawn, and a stray dog joined the pursuit.
Chapter 17
Bad Business
I took a running jump at the trolley, grasping at the metal partition that would separate the windows, had there been any glass. Bee's familiar weight was still on my back. The Japanese couple in the seat on the other side leaned away in surprise, clutching their own child between them.
Protecting your baby from a crazy woman throwing herself at the bus was understandable, but a helping hand would have been nice.
"You need to get yourself one of these," I said, pointing to the sling holding Bee.
They clearly didn't understand English. Unable to pull our combined weight inside the trolley, I slowly moved forward, partition by partition, balancing the ends of my toes on the tiny strip of metal that ran the length of the bus. I looked back as the bus made its first turn off the main street. The three men gave chase, but the bus was picking up speed.
I crouched as low as possible. If the driver saw me, he'd probably slam on the brakes. That wouldn't be helpful for anyone, except Shawn and Micah. I needed to get close enough to yell at him to just keep going. I inched along, wary of the alarmed voices inside the bus.
We hit a bump in the road, and my toes slipped off. The ends of my sandals scraped along the asphalt. I gripped the metal partition tighter and tighter, until I was sure my hands were bleeding. Whether it was blood or sweat, I was slipping off.
One hand came loose, and my opposite shoulder strained at the sudden load. Just as I felt the other arm go, a strong, steady grip pulled at my wrists. The same driver from the tour I took my first day on the island hoisted me and Bee inside. The three of us tumbled into an empty seat, then to the aisle.
I regained my footing, now inside the moving bus. Much more preferable. Thankfully, it was still moving. I looked to the steering wheel. Ahi was there, looking over her shoulder at me. I caught the right bus.
"What happened?" she asked.
I unstrapped Bee as I walked to the front, cradling her with my own two arms. "He found me. How did he find me?" I was asking a question she didn’t have the answer to. She pushed harder on the gas pedal. More alarmed cries from the tourists.
I turned to her, grabbing her arm. "He might know everything. Maybe where your house is. We can’t go back there. Take me to the airport."
"No. You’ll never get out of here before he catches up with you." I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
A small man at the back of the bus stood, pointing and yelling at me with a New Jersey accent. "Where are you taking us? I demand you stop the bus! Stop it this instant or I'll be contacting the Better Business Bureau!"
Apparently I was a bad guy, because most bad guys need saving through the window of a bus with a baby tethered to their backs.
The bus driver, just now regaining balance, stood with arms crossed, in between me and Ahi and the New Jersey man. His large frame took up the entire aisle, making it clear no one would get past him. The tourist sat back down and took out his cell phone.
I turned back to Ahi. "The docks then, I’ll bribe my way out of here. No – wait. All my money is back at your house. Shit! I should’ve planned for this…"
"Calm down. I know what to do." She got out her own cell phone and dialed. "Start the chain," she said simply, and then hung up.
I gave her a sideways glance, but didn't ask. Our fate was in Ahi’s hands. I was just thankful the most remote inhabited place on the planet had cell towers.
Chapter 18
Forming the Circles
By the time Ahi pulled the bus up to her house, the tourists were nice
and subdued. After all, on an island that was all of fifteen miles long, they couldn't very well get too lost. Ahi and I jumped off.
The driver took his seat. "I'll get them back to town, then make sure all the circles on the north side are up."
Ahi nodded, and as the bus pulled away, our attention was drawn back into the town. A thick storm of energy brewed directly above the main street.
"Is that from your friends?" I asked her.
"No, Chica." She patted my shoulder. "That is from your friends."
No way, I thought to myself. They don't have that kind of power.
Then again, each one of those men had surprised me at one time or another with what they really could accomplish.
The storm brewing over the town definitely carried a dark, cold energy – or at least part of it did.
That is the part I need to focus on, the part I need to either quell or evade, if we are to survive.
I looked down at Bee and kissed her on the forehead. "So much excitement," I said. "And all before your breakfast."
"Come on, let's go inside." Ahi pulled me by the hand. "I’ll explain while we prep."
I had barely walked in before Mama had a bottle for Bee in my hand. Bee took it without question. There were two other men I recognized from town. Both had been at the 'cousin' reunion.
One was larger than the bus driver even, his dark skin made darker by several black tattoos that blossomed up and down his arms. It was the tattoo shop owner from town. Behind him, another younger man drew a pentagram on the floor.
"Whoa, whoa there pal. Before you go any further with that very demonic-looking drawing, tell me – everything." I said.
Ahi shook her head, lighting candles around the circle. "I'm afraid we've run out of time for telling."
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