Dark Sky Falling

by Richard Ryker

  The woman looked up from her book. “Can I help you?” Her Russian was not quite native.

  “Yes,” Stormy started, then paused. She’d had hours to prepare what she would say, how she would explain their situation. But here she was, struggling to find the right words. “There was a little girl…her name is Alyssa.” She had the teacher’s full attention now. She stood and approached Stormy.

  “What do you know about her?” the teacher asked. When Stormy didn’t answer immediately, the teacher continued. “My name is Amelia.”

  Amelia was a very American sounding name. “Are you American?” Stormy asked in English.

  “Yes,” Amelia replied with a sense of relief. “As are you by your perfect American English. So what brings you to Dagestan asking questions about our newest orphan? She’s been telling us all kinds of wild stories.”

  Telling stories? That meant she was here. They had found Alyssa!

  Stormy was overwhelmed by an urge to wrap her arms around Marcus, to hold him and tell him they’d done it. Alyssa was safe.

  But he wasn’t there, and Stormy mentally swiped away the hollow feeling in her chest. This was about Alyssa’s safety, not about Stormy’s —or even Marcus’s—feelings.

  “Whatever she has told you is probably true,” Stormy said. “Her aunt abducted her. Alyssa’s father and I have been searching for her for weeks.”

  “Are you a relative?”

  “No,” Stormy replied. “I’m a…friend.”

  Amelia nodded slowly. “Alyssa thought her father would come looking for her.”

  “He…I lost him somewhere in Chechnya.”

  “Lost him?” she asked curiously.

  “It’s a long story,” Stormy said. She didn’t want to recount everything that had happened over the past two weeks. She was here for Alyssa, that’s what mattered. “I’d like to see Alyssa if I can.”

  “And I’d like to hear about her father, what happened to him.” Amelia said patiently and with a little stubbornness. “The children aren’t due back to my class for another hour.”

  “I just have to know first. Is she okay?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude Ms…

  “Sullivan.”

  “But kidnapping and pretending to be someone you are not is almost the norm in this area.”

  Stormy had been chasing Alyssa’s kidnapper for two weeks, and only a day ago had been abducted at gunpoint herself. She didn’t need a lecture on the risks of this region. But if she wanted to see Alyssa, she would have to talk to Amelia.

  Stormy detailed what she and Marcus had been through over the last several weeks, how they had chased Kamila and Alyssa across Russia and Chechnya, and how she herself had been kidnapped and escaped.

  “Thank you,” Amelia said after listening to Stormy’s recounting of events. “Alyssa told some of this to me already. But I had to hear it from you, if I could, that you are who you say you are. How well do you know Alyssa’s father?”

  “Pretty well. We’ve worked together for many years.”

  “Alyssa knows you then?”

  “Well, actually…I’ve never met her,” she replied. She knew it sounded ludicrous. She had crossed the globe and risked her own life for a girl she had never met. “I think, you know, after Alyssa’s mother died, Marcus had wanted to keep her out of his romantic life.”

  “So you are dating her father but you’ve never met Alyssa?”

  Stormy stared back at the teacher who, it seemed, was the last roadblock between her and Alyssa. Stormy wanted to say that the reason she hadn’t met Alyssa is because that’s the way Marcus is. Protective. Guarded. Not wanting anyone to get too close to Alyssa in case it didn’t work out. It made sense, to a point. But it wasn’t helping right now.

  “That’s right. We’re…together.” Stormy replied with a little more doubt than she would have liked.

  “I’m sorry Ms. Sullivan. You do understand my caution?”

  “Yes,” Stormy said. But she really didn’t. After all Stormy and Marcus had been through together, with the sole goal of saving Alyssa, and now this woman was acting like she had a right to stand between Stormy and Alyssa.

  Amelia crossed her arms and stared down at her feet. “Alright, then. Why don’t I introduce you to her?”

  Chapter 61

  Marcus slammed the hood shut. It was obvious Kamila had broken the distributor cap.

  “What’s the matter?” Kamila asked. There was the slightest trace of fear in her voice.

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Give me the keys.”

  “Maybe we should talk about—”

  “Give me the keys. Now.”

  She handed him the keys. “I don’t know why you are acting like this is my fault.”

  “Who else would have smashed the distributer?”

  “Anyone…someone who doesn’t want us to find Alyssa. Maybe your girlfriend.”

  “Stop,” he said. He put the gun in the trunk and locked the doors. “Let’s walk.”

  Marcus took a few steps, leading the way. Suddenly, his head spun. He staggered, reaching out for something to hold on to for balance.

  Kamila took his arm. “What’s the matter?”

  He bent over, wanted to sit down but thought he might not get back up if he did. What was happening to him?

  “You’re not well. Why don’t you stay here and let me get help.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, forcing down the nausea.

  It took half an hour to reach the town. Kamila insisted on holding onto his arm, resisting his attempts to pull away. He refused her help, until once, he almost swerved into the path of an oncoming delivery truck.

  Marcus tried to explain their situation to the only mechanic in town. But his words weren’t right, and it seemed that his own voice didn’t belong to him, that someone else had taken control of his tongue.

  The mechanic nodded, explained a few things.

  “We have to wait until tomorrow to get the parts,” Kamila said.

  Marcus had understood the man but hadn’t moved to respond.

  Marcus blinked and now he was standing in a hotel lobby. It was warm. He was tired, not sure how he’d got there, but he didn’t care. He was feeling better now. No nausea. No spinning. Relaxed. The smell of fried food. Spiced meat. He was hungry.

  “We need your card,” Kamila said.

  He handed her his credit card, and she paid for a room. This had something to do with the car and waiting. Waiting for a long time. It didn’t really matter. He just wanted to lay down. Sink into something. Let the world collapse around him like a bed full of soft pillows.

  Kamila held his hand, pulling him past a row of green doors. Numbers on motel doors. Did he get his card back? He touched the wallet in his back pocket.

  Marcus woke up on his back. A hard bed. He was on top of the blankets. Marcus looked around the room. The curtains were closed, a grey light reaching him. It felt like evening. Where was Anna? He had a vague memory of her standing over him, asking for his ATM number. She already had his ATM code. Why was she asking for it?

  He remembered now. She was getting food. He was hungry. Something about being on vacation. He sat up on the edge of the bed, fought off a brief fit of nausea.

  A phrase, one that had repeated in his head over and over, came to him again. Something isn’t right.

  Anna was gone. All the way gone. She had left him years ago. He had dreamed that they were here—wherever this was—just the two of them. Their car had broken down. He shook his head once, twice. He wasn’t right. God, did he need to see a doctor? A psychiatrist? He was getting as bad as—

  The door opened.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay. Better.”

  “I brought you food. Just what you asked for.”

  She unpacked the steaming food onto two
little plates.

  “Come on and eat,” she said.

  Marcus slid over to the table, careful to keep his balance. His stomach grumbled as the steam rose, wafting over his face. He breathed it in. Meat. Rice. Vegetables.

  He didn’t talk again until he had finished the food.

  She smiled at him. “You’d better drink something with that. You’re going to get dehydrated.” She pushed a Styrofoam cup closer. He took a sip. It was lukewarm, sweet.

  “Black tea?”

  “You like it?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Anything for my love.” She rose, stood next to him, put her arm around his shoulder.

  “Who are you?” It was a strange thing to ask. Insane, really. But the words slipped out naturally, as if it were the most logical question in the world.

  She tapped him on the shoulder playfully. “You know who I am, silly. Your wife.”

  He looked up at her. Her smile. Her nose, and her hair. Yes. Familiar. Almost right, but not exact. But nothing in life is perfect.

  She bent down, kissed him.

  He rose, pulled her closer, and their embrace intensified. A minute later, they were still there, mouths exploring each other. That wasn’t how Anna kissed, was it?

  It’s me, not her.

  She put her hand on his chest. “That’s enough for now,” she said. Smiling. Always smiling.

  “Why?”

  “Drink your tea. I need you to be strong.”

  He sat back down. The room seemed to be getting warmer.

  He adjusted his shirt, rolled up his sleeves. The friendship bracelet Alyssa had given him. It had blood on it.

  “Where’s Alyssa?” Panic—softened but still present—sounded a muffled alarm.

  “Safe at home. Where else would she be?” She was laying on the bed now.

  “Alone?”

  “Your parents are watching her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You really aren’t feeling well, are you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, twisting Alyssa’s bracelet around. She was safe. Good.

  But a question picked at the back of his mind, wouldn’t leave him alone. It was a faceless question, one he couldn’t name or put words to. That sense of a missing link, when your thoughts wander away mid-sentence and refuse to come back, no matter how much you bribe or cajole them.

  The world was blunted, confused. She was right, he wasn’t well. At least Anna was here to help him.

  Chapter 62

  Amelia led Stormy into the largest structure on the campus. From the outside it looked like a warehouse, but inside it was a lunchroom and gymnasium. Stormy surveyed the rows of tables where there were what looked like healthy, happy children. Eating, laughing, whispering to each other, giggling some more.

  “Can you pick her out?” Amelia asked with a smile.

  All of the children had dark hair. Skin tone wasn’t a giveaway either because there were a wide variety of races among the children, a few with a fair complexion. She approached the tables for a closer look. None of the children seemed to notice Stormy or their teacher.

  There was one girl, silent, but surrounded on both sides by chattering children. Her hair was back in a ponytail, her dress similar to that of the other girls, her head covered. But her face…the resemblance to Marcus was unmistakable. She had the same high cheekbones and slightly pointy nose.

  She wasn’t the smiling, bright-eyed girl in the picture on Marcus’s desk at work, but it was her. Alyssa seemed to notice Stormy watching and turned to face her. And the eyes, she thought. Not the same color, but that look. Their eyes met and she could see that the girl sensed that something was happening. Maybe she didn’t know what, but she knew.

  “Her,” Stormy said, pointing at the girl. “She looks just like him.”

  “Alyssa,” the teacher called to the girl in English. “Come over here please.”

  The chatter from the other children died down as they watched Alyssa walk toward the teacher.

  Amelia said, “Are you just about finished with your lunch?”

  “I am finished,” she replied, looking up at Stormy.

  “Go put it away and then we can go talk with my friend here.”

  Stormy watched Alyssa methodically empty her tray and follow them to another room adjacent to the gym. “Go ahead and have a seat,” she said, pointing to two chairs. She sat across from them.

  “Alyssa. This is Stormy.”

  Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You’re the one I talked to on the phone!”

  Stormy smiled. “That’s right.”

  “Where is my dad? Is he here?”

  “Well…” the teacher started, “We don’t know where he is.” Alyssa’s shoulders dropped and a look of hopelessness crossed her face.

  Stormy blinked away a tear. Marcus wasn’t here, but Stormy was. She would do her best to take care of Alyssa until they found Marcus.

  “Your father loves you very much and has been doing everything he could to find you. He won’t give up,” Stormy said.

  “How do you know? I thought you were with him.”

  “I was, but we got separated.”

  Stormy described how they had been searching for her for the past several weeks. She left out the most harrowing parts, including the firefight with the Russians and the fact that her father had been shot.

  “He’ll catch up to us, don’t worry.”

  Alyssa stared at the floor and Stormy wondered if she had heard her. Alyssa sniffled. Her cheeks were red, wet from tears. Stormy wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

  “I miss my dad.”

  “I know honey,” Stormy said, the tears falling from her own cheek onto Alyssa’s hair. “I know.”

  “When is he going to be here?” Alyssa asked. “I want to go home…”

  Stormy looked up at Amelia and their eyes met.

  “The good news is you will be safe from your aunt,” the teacher said. “The person who brought you here from your grandfather’s said that she disappeared for good.”

  Alyssa looked back at the teacher. “She might come back. She might find us.”

  “If that happens,” Stormy said. “We will protect you.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight until we are back in America. And even after that…we’ll have to see.” Alyssa smiled back at Stormy as Amelia handed each of them a tissue. Stormy said to Alyssa, “You have a beautiful smile. You should do that more often.”

  The teacher said, “Why don’t you go get dessert so I can talk to Stormy for a little bit.”

  “What are you going to talk about?”

  “Grown up stuff.”

  “About my dad?” Alyssa looked doubtfully at the two adults standing in front of her.

  Stormy said, “I’ll be there in a little bit. You and I can get to know each other while we wait for your dad.”

  Alyssa turned and left the room.

  “What do you plan to do next?” The teacher asked.

  “I believe Marcus will find us,” Stormy said. “But it seems like anything can happen in this country.”

  “I know that more than you can imagine,” Amelia said. “Earlier this year a local pastor was executed by some radicals.”

  “Why do you stay here?” Stormy asked.

  “I’ve wanted to be a missionary since I was a little girl. I knew going into this, no matter what country I went to, that there would be risks. Back home people might say I’m being careless. But look at these children. They need us. They need to know there is a God who loves them no matter what. That they are loved even if their parents didn’t or couldn’t be here. People aren’t exactly lining up to share love with the rest of the world now days, as far as I can tell.” She sighed. “I’m not sure it’s any different than it has been since the beginning of time…men killing each other.” She clasped her hands together, suddenly
standing taller. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something to bring hope to those most in need...”

  Stormy watched Amelia as she talked. Amelia was smart, attractive, and still young. She probably had heard that she was wasting her time, taking unnecessary risks. For all the perils she, Stormy, had risked over the past several weeks, Amelia faced these on a daily basis simply because of her faith and willingness to help a handful of orphans.

  “You are an amazing woman,” Stormy said almost involuntarily.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, we need to talk about how you are going to get out of Dagestan.”

  “How long can we wait here?”

  “No longer than a couple of days. When the locals hear that there is an American in the orphanage, it will attract attention. That puts the others at risk. In the meantime, I can work on transportation by small airplane over to Georgia where it is considerably safer for westerners. From there you should be able to get home.”

  “Thank you so much,” Stormy said, hugging her as they stood.

  “You’re not out of the woods yet,” she said. “By the way, are you hungry?”

  “Yes!” Stormy replied.

  “Let’s find you some food, and I’ll show you where you and Alyssa can sleep tonight.”

  Alyssa was safe and soon she and Stormy would be returning to the states. But it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Marcus should be here, should be the one celebrating with Alyssa. Stormy was the outsider, the tag-along friend who just wanted to lend Marcus a hand, to support him in finding his daughter.

  Amelia had said they couldn’t stay more than a couple of days.

  Where was Marcus? He was alive, she had to believe that, had to make sure Alyssa kept hope too.

  What about Kamila? Would she really try to take Alyssa back? Stormy had promised to protect Alyssa. She thought about Hassan and what she’d had to do to him. The rifle was still in the car where she’d left it. She hoped she wouldn’t need to use it again.

  Chapter 63

  Marcus fell back onto the bed. He had just vomited for the second time in less than—he wasn’t sure how long it had been? An hour? Two hours? He stared at the clock on the wall. It hadn’t moved. He was sure of that.