Seconds turned into minutes and into what felt like hours. There was no sound. And then there was an explosion and Kurt emitted an inhuman cry of rage. Or was it pain? Kurt! I don’t care what I said, I’m coming to you.
But Gloria couldn’t run to him and risk the baby making noise. She scanned the surrounding jungle. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and now she noticed a hollowed-out tree. A makeshift door constructed of twigs partially covered the hole. She moved the door and discovered some towels and blankets, packaged snacks and a portable radio. This must be where the girls run to get away. They are all so innocent.
Gloria hesitated then nestled the infant onto the blanket inside the tree, covering the hole to keep anything out. I promise I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes. Then she ran like a bat of hell to save Kurt.
8.
Woods behind Maison D’Espoir, same time-Mick
Mick smiled when he saw the silhouette of his prey crumble to the ground. Yes, direct hit.
Two down, two to go. Of all of them, Martine was the one he had worried least about. She didn’t speak English, she was stupid, and she had no family except Boris who could be bought. Mick figured he could probably have let Martine go because she really wasn’t a threat. Who knew if she understood what he had divulged about Luke and Donnie. Probably not. He could have just sent her off from Maison and she could have drifted around from village to village selling woven purses or something. Wood carvings maybe. Even if she told her story to the locals, no one would care. They all knew it wasn’t really a nursing school.
But she made the mistake of preventing him from getting to Kurt and Gloria. Had she not done that, she could have kept her life.
“Oh well,” Mick said. He walked toward her lifeless form. I’m a great shot and I saw her fall but one more bullet to the head for insurance—
Holy shit!
From out of nowhere, Kurt Malone dove at him, screaming with primal fury, knocking the wind out of him. He broke my ribs.
“You killed her you fucking bastard!” Kurt yelled then hopped off Mick and stared down at him.
Mick had no reply. His ribs really hurt. His hand went to his chest. Wet? Why am I wet?
Kurt reached down and pulled something out of Mick’s body. Moonlight glowed red off something silver not much bigger than a pen. What is that? Fuck. A scalpel?
“You think that’s enough to kill me? A little fucking knife?” I’ve still got my gun, asshole.
Mick’s hand still held the gun firm so he lifted his arm and aimed it at Kurt. “How much you wanna bet I can kill you before you can kill me?”
Kurt didn’t speak. “Put your arms up and drop the knife.” Kurt did as he was told. Mick got to his feet, took aim. Then Gloria, out of breath, came up behind Kurt.
Mick smiled. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Is Martine dead?” Gloria asked Kurt.
“I’ll answer that. Ooh, a resounding yes,” Mick bragged. This is falling into place just fine. “Wait, where’s the baby? I saw you running with it.”
“None of your fucking business,” Gloria spat.
“Really, Where is it? What the hell is wrong with you two? You can’t just leave a baby in the woods.” No way he’d ever let people like them adopt one of his Hope House kids if they walked into his agency. No way in—
The sounds of popcorn kernels exploding out of control, bursting through the silent night, jarred him before he felt his chest split open. His body fell to the ground in slow motion; and when his body finally crashed to the ground, one hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight. He knew he was royally fucked.
Boris was suddenly standing beside Kurt and Gloria, a gun slung over his shoulder. How the hell did he sneak by? Fucking Haitian Ninja.
Mick looked down at a large circle of blood on his crisp white sweat-stained shirt. Bullet holes. Lots of them. So this is what it feels like.
Agony. Every nerve in his body tied up together to explode into pain in his abdomen. Or his chest. The pain and blood spread too fast for him to comprehend where it hurt.
He gazed up and saw a monolith surrounded by a blue halo. “God?” he asked to the holy figure. “Am I dying?”
The shape moved and Mick saw it was only Boris with the full moon behind him.
“You killed my sister,” the giant man spat.
There was no good reply to that.
Mick clutched his chest and wondered how long he had left. He hoped he’d pass out, die in his sleep. Not linger on and suffer with Boris relishing every second and Kurt and Gloria along for the show.
Mick’s whole life didn’t flash before his eyes. He wasn’t overcome with fear or grief or longing. There was no white light or feeling of buoyancy or great joy all those TV movies portrayed. What a gyp, he thought.
“Daddy?” Mick looked up. His son was standing there next to Boris in the moonlight. His hair was highlighted with a bluish tint. The light ran through him and Mick knew his son wasn’t really there but there some kind of near-death hallucination.
“Luke?”
“You were a bad boy, Daddy. You killed my mommy and Donnie’s mommy. You killed lots of people and Luke is very mad at you.”
Mick reached out for the boy but he was just out of reach.
“No, I w-wasn’t. I’m not bad.” God, it fucking hurts to talk. Mick closed his eyes and when he opened them Luke was gone. Mick rolled his head to the side and searched for his phone. “Gotta ‘splain to him. Boy’s wrong. I’m a good man.”
He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Boris, Kurt, and Gloria stood watching him, the big ass gun aimed at his chest.
“Just getting my phone. I need to call my son. To say goodbye. And I have to say goodbye to my sister. You understand?”
He unlocked the phone and dialed the number. Thank God, it was going through.
“My sister was not allowed the chance to say goodbye,” Boris said, the semi automatic weapon just inches from Mick’s ribcage.
Gloria gently placed a hand on Boris’ arm. “Let him say goodbye. His son deserves that, even though Puglisi doesn’t.”
Malone and Boris exchanged a look and the walking monolith nodded consent.
“Daddy?” Luke said when he answered the phone.
“Love you, buddy. Gotta say bye now, but be good. Take care of Donnie and Auntie Angie.”
“Daddy, Luke had a bad dream, bad man go bang-bang and—”
Boris pulled the trigger and the phone flew out of Mick’s hand, its white light dancing sadly on the ground before it slid shut and went black. Boris hovered over Mick, waiting eagerly for his light to extinguish as well.
A baby’s faint cry carried through the air and Gloria and Kurt fled toward the sound.
As Mick sank into the depths of death he felt horror, regret, sickness, and overwhelming sadness. No white light, no happiness, no relatives waiting for him. Just agony and loneliness as he felt his soul drop off into eternal blackness.
9.
Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, morning
“Gloria, got a minute?” Kurt asked.
She opened her groggy eyes. Gloria had fallen asleep feeding the baby in Tad’s bed a few hours ago.
Kurt held a large white bucket. He had dark circles under his eyes and his facial hair had grown into a rough beard in the two days since he’d shaven.
“What’s that?”
“It’s all of them. The embryos. I put some water on the bottom and just poured the Petri dishes in.”
Gloria got up slowly and put the little girl in a clear hospital bassinet they’d brought over.
“How many?”
“I’m not sure. Four, five hundred?”
“My God. You’re sure it’s all of them.”
“I cleaned out all tanks. Listen, I know how important this was to Martine and to you. Not gonna be any more of your grandchildren born this way. This stops today.”
Gloria’s eyes filled with tears. Kurt pulled her to him. “Thank you
so much for understanding. For, God, for everything you did for me,” she said.
“Just glad we came out of it alive,” he said, holding her tighter.
“Me too,” Gloria replied.
“Want me to come down to the river to help you dump them out? I mean, um, set them free?”
“I need to do this alone but thanks.” Gloria pulled away and faced him. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me either. Boris carried her back after we went to get the kid and now she’s in a makeshift morgue. Boris is waiting till we’re on the plane before he tells the other girls what happened. Gonna let them get their things, strip the place and take off before till he calls the authorities. Doesn’t want us messed up in all this.”
“No one’s gonna try to take our baby away are they?”
“So long as we get across the border, we’ll be fine. We’ve got the birth record so I think we’ll be okay.”
Gloria nodded. “I hope so. Hey, Boris didn’t put Mick’s body in there with Martine did he?”
Kurt shook his head. “God no. Puglisi’s right where we left him, out behind the compound. Boris said Mick’s body is never crossing the threshold of Maison D’Espoir again.”
“Good for him. Okay, let me have the bucket. Can you watch the baby?”
“Sure. Take as much time as you need.”
10.
Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, same time
Gloria heard the river before she saw it. Raging. Loud. Freeing. When she approached, the mist from it took her breath away. It was a powerful current. One that would do the trick.
She knelt by the riverside and poured the contents of the bucket out into the rushing water.
“Swim away, little ones. Go in peace.” Gloria wiped the dirt and water from her face and dabbed at her tears. “My little grandchildren, go play and swim free to a happier place.” She knew they were dead already of course. The moment Kurt opened the tanks they most likely died, but Martine was right. Their little souls had to be released, given back to nature. So many years they had spent in a dark man-made tank, waiting to gain life through inhuman methods. So far removed from the way it was supposed to be.
Now you are free.
“And you are free too, Martine,” Gloria whispered beneath the sound of the crashing waters. “You are free too.”
Chapter Eleven
1.
Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, morning, Monday February 13th
Bright sun in Kurt’s eyes woke him up. “The baby? Where’s the baby?” He rose from the bed too quickly and got a head rush.
“She’s right here,” Gloria said. “Don’t worry.”
“I was supposed to be watching her.” He felt like a failure.
“And you did watch her. I wasn’t gone long and then I took her to sleep with me in the other room. I just came back in to check on you.”
He smiled that Gloria was here. Just the existence of her brought him such joy. Yesterday he had been in shock mode. The bad flights here, finding out the sick truth behind the birth mothers, delivering a baby, seeing Martine get shot. . . It was a great deal even for Kurt to handle. But today was a new day.
The sun gleamed over Gloria’s freshly shampooed hair. She had located her bag and had changed her clothes. Even the baby seemed more normal today. She’d had a bath too. Cleaning dirt, blood, and mud off an infant, in Kurt’s mind, made such a difference.
Kurt knew he needed a shower and change of clothes.
“I’m sorry I was such a miserable jerk last night,” he said as he got up and headed to the bathroom. “I just—”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. If I’m going to stick around you and her I need to stay focused. I can’t be popping in and out of killer mode. I’m making a choice and that choice means a new life with new behaviors. None of the old habits.”
“That’s the best way to keep your identity from being found out right? That’s what you told me.”
He grinned at her and would have kissed her if he didn’t reek. “Glad you were paying attention.”
“So you’re going to stay? With us?”
Gloria’s eyes were so hopeful that he felt tears well up. “I’m staying. I need to take a shower but after that I’ll never leave you two again.”
He dashed out.
The road not taken. That’s what he was choosing. Okay, maybe it was the road most often taken: wife, kids, house in the suburbs . . . but for him, that was the other road and he couldn’t wait to go down that path.
2.
Airplane headed to Miami, afternoon
Gloria and Kurt buckled into their seats on the Maison private plane. Boris’ friend “took care of” the regular pilot and got them a substitute. A few weeks ago, Gloria would have been horrified to know the ease with which people could be killed, but now? Well, her views had changed. Kurt had said that you got used to death and she had disagreed; but in a sad way, it was true. It didn’t seem real anymore. She didn’t think of the dead pilot as having a grieving wife and family. Instead she pictured him taking kickbacks from Mick and smuggling her grandchildren into the United States for fraudulent adoptions. Maybe he didn’t deserve to die for that, but Martine didn’t deserve to die either. Gloria could spend all day holding court in her mind about who deserved what kind of punishment but in the end it didn’t matter. The only thing of importance was going forward with her new child and with Kurt.
If they brought all this before the American authorities they’d investigate it. In several years, maybe, they’d start prosecuting. But then what? The Puglisis, from what she’d learned this week formed a powerful crime family. Would they really go to prison? The adoption agencies were Mick’s enterprise and he was dead. Tad Boucher was dead. The pilot was dead. All the extra embryos had been destroy—released.
It’s over.
“You got the Hope House papers right?” Kurt asked.
“Yes. We’re smuggling the baby into our country, but if something goes wrong at Customs, Maison D’Espoir’s paperwork should get us in. Glad Tad had the foresight to make both. Once we’re settled, I’ll use the Hope House document to get her a formal birth certificate.” Gloria explained.
“Think the document looks legit?”
“It’s the same one they’ve used for years for the adoptions. It’ll suffice.” She sighed.
“You okay?” Kurt asked.
“We left behind a trail of death, are using false papers that list this little girl as my daughter, and now we’re flying back home as if we’re returning from a cruise.”
The plane lurched and the still nameless baby gurgled from her cat seat, buckled next to Gloria. Kurt clutched her hand. “You need to put it behind you and move ahead.”
“That easy huh?” She rolled her eyes.
“Choose to let it be that easy. Live your story and it’ll become the truth.”
She shook her head, glanced out the window and then back to Kurt.
“I read Dr. Tad’s journal, the one with all the birthdates.”
Kurt nodded. “And?”
“So many babies born through me. Donna’s fetus must have been used to generate another whole compound of infants. You said there were other international centers. And who’s to say the Puglisis were the only ones using this technology? Mick got it from some guy from Israel. Are they doing this too?”
“I think any legitimate scientist worth his spit would maybe, big maybe, make one embryo to see if he could. And then he’d destroy it. Only sick people like the Puglisis would turn it into a business and mass produce them. Once we destroy the Puglisi enterprises, it ends.”
“But I thought we agreed we weren’t taking this to the authorities because too many children would be hurt by it.”
“I’m not taking this to the authorities.”
Gloria looked around but there was no one on the plane except the pilot. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve got to meet with the head of the Puglisi c
lan and get him to agree to stop this once and for all.”
“Just like that huh?”
“I’ve got a way with words. Don’t you worry. In a week, I promise you, the Puglisi baby farming industry will be a thing of the past.”
Gloria didn’t want the details. If she knew exactly what he had planned, she’d feel obligated to stop him. Kurt had made it this far doing what he needed to do to keep them safe. What was one more week if it meant they could spend the rest of their lives in peace?
Gloria closed her eyes and tried to rest. It felt like days since she’d had more than a few minutes of sleep.
“Daisies,” Kurt said.
“What?” She opened her eyes.
“You wanted to know something about me. I used to pick my mother daisies. I loved my mother more than anything. She was kind and soft. She used to make me banana bread with chocolate chips in it. We had a field of daisies right by our house where I grew up and when they were in bloom I’d pick them for her everyday.
“My Dad got upset about it sometimes because she didn’t throw them away until they were brown and dead. I brought more in and she’d use glasses and pitchers as vases. Anything she could. Even those little Looney Tunes jelly jar glasses, remember those?”
Gloria nodded and smiled.
“There were times when Mom’d have ten bouquets of the flowers in the house. I swear, they just didn’t die. Mom said that was because I put so much love into picking them and love never really dies.”
Gloria’s heart swelled that Kurt was finally sharing something with her. “Until she died three years ago I still sent her daisies on her birthday and mother’s day every year.”
“So you weren’t in hiding the whole time?”
“I was. I’d send them anonymously from flower shops all over the country to throw off the authorities. I haven’t talked to her since I ran away the first time but I just know getting the daisies made her smile. When you told me you picked daisies by your house I knew—well, I just—anyway I wasn’t ready to tell you then.”
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