Talon

by Ronie Kendig

  Feet pounded behind her. The men’s shouts as unrelenting as their pace. Didn’t they need to breathe? And who was it exactly? She didn’t know the people chasing her. How did they know her? How had they known about the coin?

  Why had she thought this was a good idea?

  Because you always want to rescue people.

  Plaster leapt at her.

  She yelped, shielded her face, and banked right.

  Two feet in, darkness dropped on her. About the time her mind registered the dead end, a form emerged from the shadows. “Back!” she snapped.

  “Here,” the man said in a hushed whisper. “Hide in here.” He pointed to the side.

  Aspen stopped. “You’re helping me?”

  With a nod, he lifted a panel and waved her into the spot. “Hurry!” As he bent forward and waved, his dark hair dipped into the light.

  Talon did his high-pitched whimper thing.

  Aspen didn’t have time to lose. She scuttled into the narrow space and tugged Talon in with her. “Talon, heel! Sit! Stay!” She said the commands rapid-fire.

  Two large pieces of two-by-fours strung together dropped over the space, sealing them in.

  Aspen sucked in a breath and placed a hand on the wood. “Wait!” Thunk!

  Though she thought it impossibly dark, Aspen could see through the slivers of light that the man had sat down in front of the wood. What was he doing? His head was down. He looked…asleep?

  Feet pounded nearby.

  “You got her?”

  Head against the wall, Aspen closed her eyes and held her breath. God…this would be a great time for Talon to be completely happy hiding.

  “Nothing—hey, you!”

  The man flinched. “Hey, was—”

  “Drunken fool. What are you doing back here?”

  “I’m not drunk,” the man, the hero who’d stepped into the line of fire to help her, stood tall.

  “Then what are you doing back here?”

  Her lungs were on fire from the exertion of slowing her breathing from a dead run to a quiet rhythm not detectable through the wood. Talon wasn’t panting hard—or at all. Maybe he sensed the danger. When he was on alert, his jaw snapped shut. Was he doing that now? She traced her fingers along the top of his broad skull.

  “Getting away from my boss for a nap.”

  “Did you see a girl run past here with a dog?”

  “I didn’t see anything—I was asleep. Besides, why would she run past here? It’s a dead end.” Her hero shifted away from the wood, toward the other side of the alley.

  “Forget him,” another man shouted. “We can’t lose her.”

  “Can I help if you have lousy aim?”

  The voices faded and with them, Aspen’s alarm. Her muscles ached. She opened her mouth and expelled the fiery breath, slowly bringing her heartbeat to a normal rate. Quiet descended over the next several minutes, even though somewhere not too far, she heard the two men still shouting.

  “Stay here till nightfall,” the hero said.

  “My dog needs water. He’s dehydrated.”

  “You’ll have to wait. If I bring water back, they might see.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Aspen nodded, not trusting herself to speak—to fall apart.

  Time ticked by with the weight of an anvil, each second pummeling her courage. Wait until night? Panic thumped against her silent consent of his order. She couldn’t wait till dark. Then she’d have no way to get back to Lemonnier. In fact, if she didn’t find a way back soon, she’d be alone. All night.

  Indecision rooted her to the hiding spot.

  Letting herself slide down, Aspen wedged herself in the tiny space. Her knees grazed the plaster. This must be some kind of stoop. A steel door pressed against her spine, but the lock wouldn’t budge. Trapped.

  Then it registered—Talon’s rapid breathing. His lethargy.

  She couldn’t look at his gums, but she’d bet the heat was getting to him again. You are the most irresponsible handler ever. Austin would string you up.

  But Austin was gone. Or here. Or…whatever.

  Had the coin simply been a coincidence? She thumped her head against the wall. Leaping without looking to help others. Good intentions—she always had good intentions, but they most often got her into a ton of trouble.

  God, I need serious help. And I have no idea what to pray for. Just…get us out safely.

  Quiet coiled around her as the city slowed and the traffic, both foot and vehicular, dulled from the roar it’d been when she was running for her life.

  An urgency clutched her by the throat. “Go, now.” She tried to quell the thought, not give in to panic. But then realized—it’s not panic.

  Just urgency.

  That still, small voice. “Go.”

  Aspen pressed her hand against the wood. It budged, but barely. She straightened in the space and pressed both palms against the wood. When she gained an inch on the left side, she dug her fingers in and pulled it aside. A heavy crate sat in front of it. She hiked her leg over it then hopped out. “Talon, come.”

  Slow moving, he appeared, just his head.

  Aspen sat on the crate, realizing this was what the hero had done, then wrapped her arms around Talon’s chest and hindquarters. With a small grunt, she heaved him over the crate and set him down. He plopped his rear on the ground, panting, and turned those soulful brown eyes to her, as if to ask, “Do we have to?”

  “Come on, boy. We need to find water.”

  She stood, noticing the aching burn in her thighs from her flight earlier. Her legs trembled, but she’d have to shove mental steel down them to hoof it back to the orphanage in order to get the ride back to Lemonnier.

  “Hey.”

  Aspen spun around, fully expecting Talon to lunge at this person. “Talon—” But she froze. Tail wagging, Talon let out that pathetic whimper again.

  “I told you to stay hidden till dark.”

  “My dog needs water, and I have to get back…home.”

  “You don’t live here.” His brown eyes seemed to enjoy knowing that.

  “I didn’t say I did.”

  “Look.” He came closer, glancing over his shoulder then back to her. “You need to get out of here.”

  “That’s what I intend to do.”

  “No, I mean out of Djibouti. Now.” He stood closer and reached a hand toward Talon. “Hey there, buddy.”

  Talon whimpered more, wagged his tail so hard she thought he might break in two, then rubbed against the man’s hand.

  “Heel!”

  “He’s okay.” The man looked at her. “Seriously—get out. There’s some bad stuff going down. Those men who were after you—”

  The man tripped. Only he hadn’t been moving. But he pitched forward and rolled to the ground.

  “Go! Run!” he grunted as he collapsed. Something dark spread over his chest.

  “You’re shot!”

  “Go, now! Talon—seek, seek, seek!”

  Talon tore off, Aspen hauled behind him.

  Twenty-Five

  Where? Where?” Cardinal shouted into the phone as he drove the tiny import away from the Sheraton, barreling through traffic like a drunk.

  “Last known reporting of shots fired is on Avenue Georges Clemenceau. A woman called the police and reported two men chasing a woman and dog through the alleys,” Lieutenant Brie Hastings said. “You’re about a mile from the address provided. Take the next right— Rue de Paris, north for about a half mile, then left on Rue de Bender.”

  “Thanks, Brie. Do we have a satellite monitoring the area?”

  “Officially, no.”

  Then unofficially—yes. “Good. Get on it, find her. That area’s pretty heavy with sidewalk vendors and market shops. I need an extra set of eyes.”

  “Okay, but you are so going to owe me.”

  Why couldn’t Brie just let it go? He wasn’t interested. Never would be. She knew his profile, knew his history. Knew he didn’t date.<
br />
  No, but you try to kiss cute blonds in chapels.

  The pang of conscience clunked him over the head.

  Cardinal concentrated on weaving through the tangle of pedestrians and traffic. If he didn’t exert more restraint, he’d draw attention to himself. He’d been at the hotel not twenty minutes when he got the call that police were flooding the scene of an incident. By now, he’d be too late. Unless…somehow…by some miracle…Aspen had escaped.

  He’d questioned God’s existence, His power, since his mother’s death, but he could not deny the strange draw he had to cathedrals. All the same, putting his life in the hands of some greater power defied good sense. Make your own destiny. Master your own life.

  He swung into the painted area of the street that divided the two lanes and stuffed the gear in PARK. “Going to foot.”

  “Satellite’s coming online…now.”

  Running would draw attention. Walking would be too slow.

  Cardinal would love to crawl out of his skin, break into wings like his moniker implied, and soar over this place. C’mon, Aspen. Where are you?

  Large parasol umbrellas arched over wares. Tip to tip, the material shielded both the products and their sellers from the unrelenting heat. Even with the sun going down, there was almost no reprieve in the summer heat. It’d topped 113 today. And Aspen was out there with Talon, on foot, running for her life.

  Something in his gut clinched. A dose of guilt sprinkled over his thoughts. Pushing her away, telling her not to trust him—had those words contributed to her willingness to fling herself into the arms of deadly danger?

  “Okay, I’ve got a line on you.”

  “I need your eyes on the market, not on me.”

  “No duh, Sherlock, but I have to know where you are to tell you where to go, and right now, I have someplace very hot in mind.”

  “I’m already there.” He wouldn’t play into her irritation. He had enough of his own as he scanned the long stretch of street. Vegetables, fruit, rugs, clothes, sandals…

  Barking slowed him. “A dog. I hear a dog barking.”

  “Hmm, might want to hurry before they turn it into dinner.”

  “Muslim, smart aleck. They consider them unclean.”

  “You spoiled all my—wait.”

  Cardinal slowed, turning a circle. “What d’you see?”

  “Head toward that three-story apartment complex.”

  As he came around, Cardinal saw a building with three rows of windows. Another with balconies lining the front. Another that seemed abandoned. “Brie, which one?”

  “The one with the dishes on top.”

  Cardinal sprinted in that direction.

  “Yeah, I see two people with a dog. In an alley. Tell me that’s not curious.”

  “Thanks.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket and sprinted toward the buildings.

  He hurdled over a mound of oriental rugs. The seller shouted at him with a raised fist. But Cardinal’s eyes were locked on the building. On searching for any sign of Aspen.

  Movement caught his attention at the top of another building. A man…up there…waiting…

  Sniper!

  “No!” Cardinal pumped his arms harder, faster. His feet felt like they’d tangle over each other. So heavy, so tired. But he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Not till he had Aspen safe again.

  He whipped around a porta potty. The door flashed open. Nailed him in the cheek. He grunted, spun around, and picked up where he’d left off.

  Across the street. He saw the opening to the alley. Saw the laundry strung from balcony to balcony. The clothes draped the alley in darkness. No way to see if Aspen was there. Or still there. Or alive.

  Oh man. He didn’t need that thought.

  Chest burning, legs rubbery, Cardinal pushed. Hard. Harder.

  A car burst from the left.

  Cardinal dove over it. Banged his knee. Cursed but didn’t stop, despite the numbing pain. Couldn’t slow. Couldn’t stop. Aspen.

  Weakness gripped him. Slowed him. His mind screamed not to slow. His body warred for supremacy.

  A scream from the alley punched through his chest, ripped his heart out and bungeed it back to its owner.

  “As—” Her name caught in his dried throat. He nearly choked on the gust of air and his parched esophagus.

  Overhead the clothes danced like soulless ghouls hovering over the city.

  Cardinal propelled himself the last dozen feet, the material flapping above. A fourth building behind the one with the satellites shielded the location from sun.

  A blur exploded from that direction. Rammed into him. Knocked him backward, into the plaster wall of the satellite building. He clamped his arms around whatever barreled into him.

  A scream blasted his ears. Another scream. Barking and tiny punches against his leg warned him of the dog. His mind reengaged as the curls bounced in his face. The fist drove forward. He narrowly avoided another jolt with her fist. “Aspen!”

  The writhing, flailing frame of Aspen Courtland slowed. Terrified eyes stared up at him. “Dane?” Her confusion bled into sheer panic. She fisted his shirt. “Dane!” She glanced back. “They shot him!”

  He guided her out of the sniper’s line of sight, his mind roaring at the sight of blood on her face and shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

  As if the words slowly brought reality into a violent collision with her nightmare, Aspen looked down at her clothes. “No…” She shook her head and swallowed. “It’s not my blood. It’s his. They shot him. He was right there helping me, and they shot him.”

  “Who?”

  She bunched her shoulders, as if warding off the pain, the trauma. She swiveled around and pointed. Aspen jerked. Looked to the left, the right. “He…” She covered her mouth with her hand then lowered it, her eyes glossing. “He…he was right there. He collapsed.” She slumped back against him, and he could tell she was about to lose it. “He was right there. Dead. He was dead!”

  “Hey, it’s okay.”

  She jerked to him. “No. It’s not okay. They shot him. I saw it. Now he’s gone. But I saw it, Dane. I did!”

  “Hey.” He tightened his hold very gently, just enough to give her some grounding, some reassurance. “Let’s get out of here, get you and Talon to safety. We’ll sort it out there. We have sat imaging, so we can scour to see what happened.”

  Her vacant expression warned him of the shock taking over.

  “Aspen?”

  Pools of pale blue looked up at him. Her chin trembled.

  Cardinal wrapped his arm around her and tugged her close. “Just…hold on. I’ll get us out of here.” He couldn’t let her fall apart till they were no longer in the open. He cupped her face, searching for recognition that she was with him. “Okay, Angel?”

  He held her face. Did he know he held her heart?

  Calling her Angel—the nickname her parents and grandparents had given her as a little girl—it righted her universe. Enabled her to muster the minuscule drops of courage left after seeing that man shot right in front of her.

  Aspen lifted her jaw. She would not be a teary, whiny basket case in his arms. She swallowed, coiled Talon’s lead around her wrist once more, then gave Dane a nod.

  Dane wrapped his hand around hers. “Okay, hold on. Don’t let go. We’re going to the safe house.”

  “Got it.” And she did. She got it that Dane was there to help. That even though he said not to trust him, his actions demanded it of her time and again. And honestly, she had no problem giving it. No problem letting him shoulder the burden of this disaster. It was nice not having to carry the world on her back.

  He stalked through the alleys at a pretty fast clip, eyes alert, tension radiating off his strong build. The moments before he showed up were like being on a Tilt-a-Whirl at a fair, where the lights, the images, the people all blurred into one frenetic mural of chaos. Then Dane stepped in, caught her, and made everything right again.

  Darkness had descended by the time they made
it out of the shops and tangle of street vendors into the dusty, abandoned section of Djibouti City. A million questions peppered her mind, but she stowed them. The night, the danger, the men—they all prompted her to follow his lead. If he wasn’t talking, she wouldn’t talk. If he walked fast, she walked fast. If he slowed, as he had now, then she slowed.

  “Just a little more,” he said, sounding as tired as she felt.

  As they strolled up the street, she spotted Santos’s home. Would Dane lead them there?

  Almost as soon as the thought flickered through her exhausted mind, he crossed the street, slipping behind a row of crumbling buildings. “You don’t trust him.”

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  The retort was so quick, so sharp, she wasn’t sure if that included her. She prayed it didn’t. But she was too exhausted to fight the sadness that encompassed her. What was keeping him locked up, his heart smothered?

  She stumbled, her feet tripping over each other. She grunted—everything hurt. Her eyes burned, her feet ached, her back throbbed, her mind screamed…yet her soul was quiet.

  I don’t understand, Lord. She should be a cracked nut by now. But she wasn’t. Why?

  A verse from Psalm 23 drifted into her mind: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” She had nothing to fear. Yet she had everything to fear—the man, whoever he was, warning her to get out before she got hurt. Austin—where was he? They were in this place, and it seemed everything was going wrong. Yet she had peace. The same peace that carried her into the dilapidated safe house.

  Holding her hand, Dane shifted, bolted the door with all four dead bolts. Her shoes crunched over the dirt and debris. Talon padded along beside her, head down, shoulders drooping. In the middle of the building, a room had been walled in to prevent light from seeping out and giving away their position.

  Dane gave a quick rap then eased into the room.

  Two men dressed in ACUs stood with M4s aimed at the door—at them. Aspen remembered them from Candyman’s team, which made her wonder where he and Timbrel were.

  Inside, Dane engaged the locks as he said, “Evening, gentlemen.”

  Rocket let out a whistle. “You scared us. Nobody said you were coming.”