Shadowboxer

by Jessica L. Webb

  “But you are a wolf, Helena,” Madi said. “You’ve always been a wolf.”

  Helena smiled sadly. “I was born a sheep, Madigan.” She pointed at Ali. “That one is a wolf. Born a wolf, lives her life amongst wolves, congratulates herself on being a wolf. She is all pride, that one.”

  Jordan didn’t like the way Helena had focused on Ali. Her eyes had gone cold, and though Ali was silent and impassive, Jordan needed to bring Helena’s focus back.

  “What am I?”

  Helena switched her gaze back to Jordan. “What are you, Jordan? You tell me.”

  “A sheep,” Madi said, before Jordan could find the words. Her dark eyes bored into Jordan, alive now with anger. “Content to be a sheep though the world keeps offering her a chance to be a wolf.”

  Helena looked at Madi approvingly. “Yes, very good. Exactly.”

  Jordan steeled herself against the hurt of Madi’s words. She blinked as Rachel spoke quietly in her ear.

  “We’ve got a problem. Intel on the convenience store fire shows an incendiary device was used, which means this group has had access to the materials needed for explosives as well as the knowledge and capacity to put it together.” Jordan risked a quick look at Ali, who had obviously heard the same thing. Ali shivered. “We’re assuming the bridge has been set with explosive charges. We need whatever intel you can give us. Fast.”

  Jordan tuned back in to the chanting and the wind and the bright overhead lights and the dark sea around them. She felt shuddering beneath her feet, the instability of fear, of facing an opponent so much bigger.

  “They’re asking something of you,” Helena said, sounding more curious than concerned. “What is it?”

  “The police know about the explosives,” Ali said, her voice calm confidence. “They want to know your demands.”

  “Really,” Helena said. “And are you volunteering to relay my demands to the police?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m an excellent negotiator,” Ali said. “And I speak wolf.”

  Helena’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t fuck with me, Ms. Clarke.”

  “I’m not. You’ve set the stage for a takeover, all the stakeholders are here. We’ve all agreed the power lies in your hands. We’re all just waiting here for you to tell us your demands. Show us your teeth, Helena.”

  Each of Ali’s words seemed to hit like a blow to Helena. She shrank visibly as Ali handed her the power and outlined the magnitude of the moment. Helena took a step back.

  “Let Jordan and Ali take the kids off the bridge,” Madi said, obviously seizing Helena’s moment of indecision. “Give Jordan the manifesto we wrote. She’ll read it to the media. There will be change. Just let my friends off the bridge.”

  Helena blinked and grabbed Madi’s arm. “Madigan?”

  “The manifesto, give it to Jordan,” Madi said quietly. “Give the all-clear to let them off the bridge. They’ve played their part. They have come to meetings, they have taken risks and built up their voices. They need to take their own messages out into the world.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Jordan began to protest, but Madi shot her a scathing look and Jordan swallowed her protest. She had to trust Madi knew what she was doing.

  Helena reached into her oversized pocket with a shaking hand and pulled out some folded papers. She gazed at them with incredulity, then confusion eclipsed the happiness and she reached into her other pocket and pulled out a small flip phone. She stared at them both.

  “It’s not enough,” Helena whispered, her words nearly carried away by the wind. “Words on the page, spoken to the uncaring media and viewed by an uncaring community.”

  Helena was getting her strength back, and Madi looked distraught.

  “We have to tear their hearts open, Madigan. Tear them open, and they’ll understand layers of pain. Then we’ll see change. Then we’ll see caring. Then we’ll see collaboration.” Helena gestured at the two men standing beside her. “Escort these two over to the black box, please.” She looked at Jordan. “You can say goodbye to your kids on the way. Don’t forget to tell them they’ve been strong and good.”

  “Helena, no—” Someone yanked Jordan’s arms painfully behind her back. Jordan struggled and then dropped her weight. Her knees hit the ground painfully, but Jordan pivoted and kicked out with her leg even as she blocked a swing from above. Her kick landed with a satisfying thud, but Jordan was soon lost under a flurry of legs and arms, at least three men now trying to subdue her. An elbow to the eye had her seeing stars and a kick to the gut made her double over in pain. Her face pressed to the cold, wet pavement, Jordan gasped for air as her arms were once again wrenched and bound behind her back. They hauled her to her feet and held her there with a bruising grip.

  Ali was on the ground with a man kneeling on the small of her back. “Jesus, Ali. No! Get the fuck off her.” She saw the blow coming at her from the corner of her eye, and she turned her head just in time to avoid a broken nose.

  Ali was still struggling but then she too was hauled to her feet. Her face had a long red scratch down one side and she was shaking, her eyes murderous. Jordan shook her head to clear the pain and fear.

  Helena was staring at Madi, who was being held from behind by a huge man, one hand over her face, one wrapped around her small frame. Madi struggled and tried to scream.

  “Black box,” Helena said. “All of them.”

  They spun Jordan and Ali around and pushed them forward across the bridge. The line between them and the demonstrators, hard men and women with anger and resolve etched into their expressions, melted away as Helena approached. The demonstrators were lifting their voice in protest, completely unaware of what was happening around them. Which was obviously the point, Jordan thought. She imagined Helena had convinced them they were safe in this circle. Her kids and the others, maybe forty in all, did not know they were trapped. This line of defense was meant to keep them here, a circle of sacrifice.

  “Jordan? What the hell?”

  Jordan didn’t recognize the voice, but she saw some of the protesters turn and watch as she and Ali and Madi were pushed along. She saw Rupert’s face briefly, his goofy grin quickly replaced by shock. Jordan said nothing, just concentrated on what was ahead of her. If she was going to keep her kids safe, she needed to figure out Helena’s plan.

  Jordan needed to talk to Rachel. She shook her head but couldn’t feel the earpiece in her ear anymore. Shit. She tucked her chin into the neck of her coat and felt the microphone rub against her chin. Jordan whispered, hoping like hell the guy behind her couldn’t hear over the din.

  “No earpiece, I can’t hear. Ali and I restrained, taking us to east side of bridge. Called it a black box.” They pushed Jordan the last few steps, and the crowd cleared so Jordan had an unobstructed view of a heavy plastic box taking up most of the space on the bed of a truck. Jordan whispered all the details of what she could see into her coat.

  “Why’d you piss off the boss lady, Jordan? I thought you were on our side.”

  Creaser pushed off from where he was leaning against the pickup truck, looking confused and hurt.

  “Creaser, I am on your side,” Jordan said quietly. “What’s in the van you were guarding?”

  Creaser’s face lit up. “Snacks. Helena said we’d need fuel for the protest, and because so many teenagers were here, I’d have to make sure they didn’t eat them all.”

  Jordan closed her eyes briefly. “It’s not snacks, Creaser. Go look in the van.”

  The man holding Jordan shook her, and Jordan bit back a cry of pain as he wrenched the muscles in her shoulders. “Shut up and listen. Creaser, fuck off.”

  The chants of the protesters had died down, and Jordan could feel the crowd like a silent presence at her back. Ali was being held on the other side of the semicircle. The cut on her cheek dripped blood and her top lip was puffy.

  “I’m sorry,” Jordan mouthed to Ali.

  Ali mouthed somethi
ng back. Jordan shook her head; she didn’t understand. Ali did it again, slower.

  “Five minutes.”

  It must be a message from Rachel. They needed five minutes. How to delay what Helena had planned?

  Helena now stood beside the black box with Madi still held captive beside her. She waved away the huge man until it was just the two petite, powerful women.

  “This is a proud moment,” Helena said, her voice lifted and carried in the wind. “I hope you all feel it as I feel it. You have used your voices, your minds, and your hearts to get us to this moment. I am proud to call you all family.”

  Some cheers and clapping met Helena’s announcement, and her expression became infused with benign resolve. The look terrified Jordan, and her fear leapt into her throat as Helena reached for the sniffling, broken Madi, who stood complacently beside her.

  “Madigan represents our future, the moving forward in our fight to be seen and heard. And as our future, Madigan will be making the decision for what happens next.”

  Helena took the phone out of her pocket again. Madi reached for it, but Helena smiled and pulled it out of reach. “Your friends can leave the bridge before our final announcement,” Helena said, and Jordan had to strain to hear the words. “But you have to choose either Jordan or Alison to lead them. One will stay and be witness, immortalized in the message we have to send.”

  Jordan saw the moment Madi broke.

  “I can’t,” Madi said, staring at the ground.

  “You must,” Helena said, quietly triumphant. “Who stays, Madigan? The sheep or the wolf?” Helena leaned in closer to Madi, and Jordan could just read the words on Helena’s lips as she whispered, “Who lives?”

  Jordan couldn’t breathe. It couldn’t end like this. All of them needed to walk off the bridge. We just need minutes, she thought. Rachel has our backs. Minutes.

  “I’ll stay,” Jordan called out. Madi lifted her head and Jordan saw her defiance. Good. “Madi, I’ll stay. Tell Ali to get the kids and go.”

  “Not your decision, Jordan,” Ali said. “I’ll stay.”

  Jordan noticed a movement out of the corner of her vision. She thought she saw Creaser moving toward the front of the truck, but she didn’t want to give him away by looking. She just hoped like hell she’d convinced him.

  “Madigan? You see my vision, don’t you?” Helena said. “You always have. This burden will be carried by the many. When the bridge goes, we fall and we rip their hearts open. They see what they have done to us. We will use the sun to light the dark and help them see. They will carry your name and your memory along with the burden. You will be beloved as you have always wanted to be beloved. We all must sacrifice in our own way.”

  Madi looked at Helen, and Jordan read eerie calmness. And resolve.

  “I see your vision, Helena. But I don’t agree with it. I—”

  The sound of helicopter rotors drowned out Madi’s words. A chopper with lights blazing rose up out of the darkness, just out of reach of the suspension wires, a confusion of lights and noise. The pressure of the downdraft made people duck and cower. The chopper gained altitude and dropped again, blasting everyone with a downdraft so hard most fell to their knees.

  Jordan used the moment to turn on her captor, kicking him hard between the legs as he fell. Ali was fighting as well, using the back of her head to smash into the nose of the man holding her. Where was Madi? Jordan fought through the chaos of noise and movement. She heard the sound of a revving engine and looked up to see Creaser pulling away in the truck, smashing through other vehicles and careening against the railings of the bridge.

  Jordan caught a glimpse of Madi, squaring off against Helena, who still held the cell phone in her hand. Then someone hit Jordan from behind, knocking the breath out of her as she hit the ground again.

  “Lie still! Lie still! Police!”

  Jordan’s shoulders screamed in protest as she tried to lift the weight off her back. She managed to get her head up just enough to see Helena try to take Madi out, the cell phone clenched in her hand. Madi blocked Helena’s strike with her forearm, ducked under the intended blow and landed a perfect, solid right hook into Helena’s solar plexus. Helena folded under the punch, and Jordan stopped struggling as officers in tactical gear swarmed Helena and grabbed the cell phone.

  Madi sank to the ground and covered her face with her hands. Jordan wanted to go to her, but she was so tired and everything hurt and her heart was shredded. She closed her eyes, feeling every piece of rocky asphalt press into her cheek, the smell of gasoline and seawater. Her muscles were jelly as an officer hauled her to her feet, asking her questions as she released Jordan’s hands from the plastic ties cutting into her wrists.

  Jordan ignored the officer and looked around, dazed and unsteady. Scuffles and fights were still happening around her as officers subdued the last of Helena’s lieutenants. Jordan could see her kids huddled together, Rachel in their midst shouting orders and sheltering as many of the kids as she could. Then Jordan’s eyes landed on Ali, also unbound now, crouching down next to Madi and holding Madi’s head between her hands.

  Jordan forced her legs to hold her for the few feet it took to sink down next to Madi and Ali and hold them in her arms with all the love and strength she had left to offer.

  Epilogue

  “I don’t know about this.”

  Jordan watched Madi fidget with the sleeve of her black sweater. Madi was looking nervously around the ballroom of the posh downtown Chicago hotel hosting Centera Corp’s annual general meeting. Men and women in suits and ties, expensive shoes and pressed shirts filled the space along with the near-deafening din of chatter and the smell of coffee.

  “Hey, I have to present, too,” Ali said, looking utterly relaxed in her summer-weight grey suit and light blue shirt. “Every one of the executives is nervous about their homework assignment.”

  Madi didn’t look convinced.

  Jordan exchanged a look with Ali, seated on Madi’s other side. They’d talked endlessly about whether or not this was a good idea. It had been six months since the incident on the bridge. They’d all healed from the cuts and bruises, but Madi’s confidence had taken a huge hit and was still in recovery. Her and the rest of the kids being cleared by the police of any wrongdoing had helped. Spending time with Jordan and Rachel outlining her involvement with the Unharm group had helped as well, releasing some pent-up secrets.

  It had helped Jordan, learning that Madi had only joined when she’d heard some of the kids were involved. She’d used Helena’s twisted attachment to her to try and keep the others safe. And keep Jordan out of it. Knowing Madi was expected to testify at Helena’s trial in eight months was still a worry. Madi see-sawed up and down, steady and not. She was working so hard, and Jordan wished she could start feeling the payoff for all her effort.

  “You two all ready? We’ll be getting started in a moment.”

  Tom Lawrence leaned on the back of a vacant chair, looking eager about the day’s event.

  Madi nodded. “I’m ready,” she said quietly.

  Tom looked at her sympathetically. “It’s okay to be nervous, Ms. Battiste. I recognize I’ve put a lot of pressure on you as our first speaker. But I think your message will set the tone for the day. I can’t thank you enough for being here. For being a mentor to Alison.”

  Madi cocked her head to the side, and a small smirk emerged. “You’re thanking me even though you’re losing one of your top executives? Your project turned into corporate headhunting. Bet you never expected that.”

  Tom laughed, and Madi’s eyes sparkled with some of her old spirit. “No, you are very right. But I’ve known for a long time Alison was ready to move on. I wish her nothing but the best.” Tom and Ali exchanged an understanding smile.

  Ali would be starting at a small start-up firm in Halifax in August. She’d sold her condo in Chicago and was making her move home permanent in just a few weeks. Jordan’s heart thudded a happy-scared rhythm. They were looking for
a place together. It was finally time.

  Tom straightened and clapped his hands together once. “We need to get this show on the road. I’ll say a few words and then you’re up, Ms. Battiste. Break a leg.”

  Madi nodded, this time with a set to her shoulders that reminded Jordan of her old confidence.

  Jordan shifted in her seat and took a sip of her nearly cold coffee in the small china cup. She straightened the lapel of her new blazer. Madi caught her fidgeting and rolled her eyes.

  “Cut it out. You don’t have to present and you look hot in that outfit.” She turned to Ali. “Doesn’t she?”

  Ali smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Yes, she does.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Jordan muttered, making them both laugh. She wished Ali was sitting beside her right now. She tried to remember these were still Ali’s colleagues and this was still her place of work.

  Up at the podium, Tom called for everyone’s attention and cracked a joke about the similarities between executives and preschoolers. The room quieted, and the lights dimmed as Tom launched into a short speech about why they were all here. He pulled no punches and Jordan respected him for that. He spoke of their previous failures without judgement or excuse. He outlined the purpose of the mentorship project and the itinerary for the day.

  “First on the agenda is a young woman from Halifax who I have had the honour of getting to know over most of the last year. She is a poet and a leader, and when she speaks, we should all listen. Madigan Battiste, the stage is yours.”