by Bella Knight
“You spend more time with her than most people spend with their daughters,” said Callie. “You’re a fantastic mom. Kind, loving. Gentle.”
“I hope I didn’t break Grace,” Ivy said. “I try, really, really hard not to carry resentment toward her. It’s just that, she has tools. She refused to use the sparkly, water, lava lamp thingy that Damia uses to control her emotions. She says it’s for babies. We’ve watched dozens of ADD videos on YouTube, and read books. She won’t read or watch a thing.”
“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt,” said Callie. “Maybe now, she’ll realize she needs help.”
Ivy snorted. “Time for the big guns.”
“Henry,” said Callie.
“Henry,” said Ivy.
“Separation causes anxiety, and sometimes outright insanity.”
2
EXFILTRATION
“I’ve spent a lifetime guarding people who should have had someone guarding me from them.”
Saber looked out of the bus window. Jamison Grady, the “money manager” he was supposedly guarding, sat on the outside. Grady didn’t want to be near an open window, but Saber would have to leap over him to defend him. He had a gun, a knife in his boot, and a telescoping baton in his other boot. He was helping Jamison “escape” from his gunrunning group. Jamison knew no one would expect him to be with an Asian man on a bus. The homophobic and racist views of Dyson Ranier, the group’s head, were clear. Saber had nearly been forced to sleep with an underage informant, but he claimed that he was gay, and got her out of there in one piece. Actually, his handler had gotten her out of there, and she’d turned state’s evidence. Saber billed himself as a gunrunner with knowledge of the drug business, contacts that the group used to get their guns, and to sell drugs to fund their crusade. Saber personally knew of at least three bunkers of illegal weapons in the desert. He’d help stock them with illegal weapons he’d fronted. He’d made so many gun sales, and received so much in bath salts and other drugs, that he’d actually gotten bored. And, in this line of business, bored was dangerous.
Grady was on the run because he’d made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person —another male on the team. The other guy, Damian Yellan, had rejected the suit to the point of trying to shoot Grady. In fact, Grady had a hole in his shirt that had been put there by a .22. He prevailed upon Saber to save him. Grady had several USBs on his body, and the books, contacts, and more of the group. He’d actually recorded drug deals using “salts” for bath salts, “white” for cocaine, “black” for black tar heroin, and various other pills as well. They were transferred on the backs of Hondas and Kawasakis; not Harleys, because Jamison thought the “rice burners” were less conspicuous when making deals. He had a point. Drugs were also bolted under the chassis of trucks.
Both the ATF and DEA were involved in taking down this group. The FBI had turned them onto the group, and Saber was doing a favor for people who had helped him to find out who had run over his wife, Wraith. He regretted some favors. He’d spent two weeks destroying a child pornography ring first. Wiping these people off the planet (at least figuratively), by putting them in prison, pleased him to no end. But, he felt like scrubbing his own skin off, and taking his brain out and washing it, after pretending to be a child molester for two weeks. Then, he spent a week doing buys at a roughneck camp, which seemed a little bit like bailing out a boat with a sieve. They’d do some time, and go back and do the same damn thing when they got out of jail, hired to work in the exact same place.
This gun and drug-running racist group was a mess. There were people crisscrossing state lines, and he was the third infiltrator. He’d been brought in to cause a confrontation that would allow any key player to be spirited out. This one had fallen into Saber’s lap, almost literally, and none too soon. His wives were in the hospital, and he needed to be with them.
“Damn man,” said Grady. “I gave him my love, and he fucken-well shot me!”
“Keep your voice down,” said Saber. “And, to be realistic, he might have been trying to protect himself.”
“You think?” asked Grady, with hope in his voice. He was a small man, with a small nose, watery blue eyes, and nervous fingers.
“Play a video game on your phone,” said Saber. “It’s what everyone else does on the bus. Or sleep.”
“What should I load?” asked Grady.
Saber took out his phone, which he’d long-since cloned, and sent him to Google Play. “Download the free ones.” It was a silly statement, he knew.
In truth, the man had money squirreled away in seven different accounts. He’d been skimming for years, and would have eventually run afoul of Jamison, anyway. Saber had been doing quite a bit of digging. He had been ready to get the guy separated that way. Then, Grady had done something stupid, and they were now “on the run.”
“What kind?” asked Grady, running his fingers through his longish brown hair.
“Jewel? Mystery? Finding hidden objects? Puzzle? Dude, whatever you like. Maybe download one of each. They’re free.”
“Fuck,” said Grady. “Lots of choices.”
“Pipe down,” said Saber. “Relax. You don’t wanna make the people around you pissed off because you won’t stop talking.”
“Okay,” said Grady. “So, five is good?”
Saber knew his guy was talking way too much because he was scared. “Dude, you’re drawing attention to yourself. That’s bad. You wanna talk to me, then text me.”
“Damned chink,” said Grady.
Saber took out his knife, and put it into Grady’s ribs. “You call me that one more time, I’ll gut you like a fish, cover you with the blanket in my pack, and hop off at the next stop like nothing happened,” he whispered in Grady’s ears. “I put up with that from Jamison for money and contacts. You’re paying me to get you out, but a lot less than I’ve made from him. I’m not putting up with crap. It’s not good business.” He made the knife disappear.
Grady was absolutely frozen, and for far too long. He was tense, with his neck muscles standing out. He then downloaded a video game, and started playing it. Saber relaxed, and pretended to sleep.
They went west, and crossed into Arizona. They hopped off, and had lunch in a coffee shop. Saber’s handler, Thierry Martinez came in, sat down, and ate lunch with them. He had long black hair and dark eyes, and was wearing black jeans, a pale blue shirt, boots, and a ball cap.
He sat down, and slid an envelope under the table. “Plane ticket,” said Thierry.
“Thanks,” said Saber, finishing his pecan waffle. “Can you get this guy where you’re going?” He slipped an envelope with six USBs in it to Thierry, it contained all of the information he’d compiled —photos, websites, everything.
“Of course,” said Thierry. “The price is right.”
“Where am I going?” asked Grady, pushing around the sausages on his plate.
“You’re getting a whole new life,” said Thierry. Thierry had failed to finish the sentence. He smiled. “In federal lockup, after ratting out all your ‘friends.’”
All three men stood, and they filed out. Saber watched Thierry arrest Grady, and put him into a black SUV. He waved, and called an Uber. He went off to ship his gun and knife first, the ones he couldn’t take on a plane, in a specialized box. He gave the tracking number to his bosses, so Homeland Security didn’t freak out.
The plane flight didn’t take long. He barely had time for a tiny bag of pretzels and a Coke. He landed, and called another Uber. He went home first, and the cat attacked his feet. He laughed, petted her, and gave her a treat. He saw the strips of feathers on the floor, and was delighted. It was obviously Sigrun’s handiwork. He washed the stink of case after case off his body, and dressed in comfortable blue jeans and a T-shirt. He filed away his David Chang ID, and picked up his real one. He rode his bike to the hospital, but took a side trip to Sonic.
Sigrun saw him first, squealed, and then attacked him. He barely got the food on the tray before the
drinks went sloshing to the floor. He held her gently, worried about her ribs, and felt her tears on his neck.
“I am so sorry I wasn’t here,” he said. He carried Sigrun forward, and managed to bend down to kiss Wraith. “My love, I am so sorry for your pain, and that I wasn’t here to help.”
“I get why,” said Wraith. “I’m really pissed, primarily at them. They knew I needed you and took you away from me. Did you get the baddies?”
“Several jobs, and all of them either went down or are going down,” he said. He put his finger to his lips, then blew on them.
“We’ll never speak of it again,” she said.
“Off, Sigrun,” said Saber, contradicting himself by holding her close. “I need to sleep with our wife.”
“I’ll lock the door,” said Sigrun, finally letting him go.
“Can we do that?” asked Saber, kicking off his motorcycle boots.
“Just did rounds, and I’m drugged up,” said Wraith.
He laid his summer-vented jacket over the ugly pink chair, and slid in with her. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. “Please, please… tell me what you want. I don’t want to damage you.”
In response, she grabbed his hand, and put it on her breasts. He pulled up her soft shirt, and gently sucked on her breasts. He put a hand down her shorts and she groaned.
“Keep your head still, baby,” he said. “Don’t damage yourself.”
He used his tongue on her breasts, then sucked each one. He used his fingers, and put them deep inside. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. He put his fingers deep inside, and made her come, again and again. He cleaned them both up with a helpful wet wipe, and gently held her.
“My turn,” said Sigrun.
She dragged him to the ugly pink chair, and then sat him down. She kissed his face and his neck, biting his ear. She put her hands down his pants, and grabbed him. She pulled down his jeans, and bit, sucked, and kissed him until he came. She cleaned them both up, and he held her for a long time.
He slid into the bed with Wraith. “How the hell did you get a single room?” he asked.
“Connections. Contacts. And the fact I’m an agent,” she said. He laid on his side and draped an arm over his stomach. He was terrified of jostling her.
“Let’s get the Netflix going,” said Sigrun.
“I brought Sonic,” Saber said.
“I love you,” said Wraith.
There were kisses all around, and cherry lime drinks, and cheese fries, and lots more. Sigrun unlocked the door before the next rounds were due. They sat and laughed, and watched action movies and giggled over the silly parts. They had their hands on each other, unable to stop touching, when Saber fell into an exhausted sleep.
“Sleep, baby,” said Sigrun. “I’ll watch out for both of you.”
“We’ve got to all of us exchange rings,” said Wraith.
“When you’re outta here,” said Sigrun. “And with our man back, that’ll be before you know it.”
“We have the coolest family,” said Wraith.
“That we do,” said Sigrun. “Close your eyes.” She put on a video on how to run your own business, and she made little feather toys while they slept.
Henry examined the feather toy. “Not my thing, but I’m not a cat.”
David held up the strand of leather with fake feathers sewn on, as well as soft, chewy, plastic knobs in various colors that were tied to the toy. “The workmanship is exquisite. Eye-catching colors; blue, maroon, yellow. Cats love them. The materials are cheap enough to make in bulk. I know of at least three crafters on the res that can do it. I do far more intricate work, so I wouldn’t be interested, but these could sell well online. By the case.”
“Well then,” said Henry. “What are you going to do about it?”
David stroked his cheek. “Have a crafters’ powwow, of course,” he said.
Sigrun brought the parts, and showed how to make it. Tracy Bonesta quickly picked up on it, and created one while sitting in front of Sigrun. Tracy was left-handed. Tracy had a square face, her hair back in a bun, nimble fingers, a ready smile, and an infectious laugh. She made two, then showed the others.
“How much you paying?” asked Tracy. “I can do this two hours a day, four days a week. Do a dozen to start, but once we get going, we’ll fill up a warehouse. You provide the materials.”
“Got a Las Vegas party company going out of business,” said Sigrun. “Bought fake, feather boas by the case.”
“Deerskin would be softest,” said Regina Moore. “But be a waste of good deerskin to use on cats.”
“Got a supplier for that,” said Sigrun. “Fake leather. Already dyed. And the soft plastic knobs are a part to a discontinued toy. Got ‘em cheap. I suggest paying you sixty percent of the final price.” She sighed. “The toys haven’t caught on that well. Only did orders for singles. I sent them to various large pet stores, but they haven’t replied.”
“Go to the boutique pet stores, groomers and the like,” suggested Regina. “It would be a good thing to sell them, brightly colored, on the wall by the cash register. Need a nice-looking cardboard card to attach it to, to catch the eye.”
“Feline Feathers,” said Sigrun, holding up the blue cardboard card with a white cat on one side, a tabby kitten near the bottom of the other one. “Got Alo to design it for me. They attach with simple twist ties.”
“Good,” said Tracy. “I hate cutting off that plastic stuff. And you can reuse the twist ties.”
“We’ll go with you,” said Regina. She stood up. “I’m finished with this one. Hand me one of those cardboard things and two twist ties.”
So, David ended up driving Regina, Sigrun and Tracy to several groomers and pet stores, and left the pretty cards and the attached toys. They took two into each shop, and played with kittens. David was shocked when Regina adopted two kittens, one a gold male with a white chin, and one a female; a gray tabby. And then they had to take the kittens to the vet. The vet loved the toy, and they gave him three. He put in an order, right then and there, for three boxes. Sigrun priced them at three dollars, per toy, and gave him a ten percent, bulk discount. They then used the kittens as examples with three more vets and boutique pet supply stores, and got sales in three out of four, before taking the well-loved kittens home to the res. Then, David took Sigrun back to the Big House to retrieve her Harley.
“That was fun, and unexpected,” said Sigrun. “Nice to get out of that damned hospital. If I never see another one, it will be too soon.”
David nodded. “For all of us, too. When is Wraith getting out?”
Sigrun laughed. “Yesterday, she says. The doctors and nurses want her out because she’s being bitchy. The last holdout, Dr. Friedman, the PT guy, he is gonna get overruled. We’re at the point that she can move around to the bathroom with a walker, and we can take her back and forth for physical therapy.”
“Let us know what we can do to help,” he said. They hugged. “And thank you.”
“For what?” asked Sigrun.
“For something that brings in a little more. A little more means a good winter. A little more means the bills get paid. A little more means they can stay in their own house. A little more means… so much. If they piece together enough of those ‘a little more’ things, they can make a real living, and can stay on the res.”
Sigrun wiped away the tears that sprung into her eyes. “I have been so wrapped up in Wraith, and Saber being gone, and trying to get my classes done, that in some way, that didn’t involve being there. One minute at a time, you know? And the medical bills are piling up. I want a way to pay for my own school, which is fucking expensive, you know? Pay my own way. My insurance sucks, got it through the school. Wraith and Saber both have government insurance, but they still had deductibles. Stuff the insurance refuses to pay. So, Saber gets taken away from us to go do the deal. Pay everyone off, and we do a little happy dance, you know? The Valkyries stepped in, said they’d help us fight the insurance company for wh
at we need, showed us ways to cut costs. Lily is helping us with the books, took it over from me. The Valkyries will front us for everything, and we gotta pay it back. But, I hate it.” She brushed tears from her eyes. “My sisters shouldn’t have to pay. But then, we won’t have the power cut off or someone repossess our condo. I was living in Candyland, in a fantasy world. I forgot other people got it tough too, you know?”
David stepped forward and held her close. “I wouldn’t call it Candyland,” he said into her hair. “Just let it go.” She wept into his shirt, all the pain, and fear, and anguish, and suffering of the last months were now running out of her like rain from the sky.
When her sobs began to recede, he sang the sacred songs to her, and stroked her hair, the smooth bits, and ran his fingers over the braided bits. He took a tissue packet out of the back of his jeans pocket, and gave it to her.
He sang her down, and soon she was smiling again. “Thank you,” she said.
“Go, and don’t worry. We will find a way to help you pay the Valkyries back. And, it may not seem like it now, but I know Wraith. She will push and push and be back at work before you know it. It may not be what she did before. Her agency needs all kinds of people. Or, she may switch agencies. But, she’ll be bringing in a paycheck, not just her medical leave money. So, don’t worry. Let it go. You are three, and three people can do a lot.”
Sigrun wiped her eyes, then popped them open. “My medical sketches! Dr. Ho and Dr. Friedman say that I can use my sketches to help design 3D parts, artificial limbs, and all sorts of things!”
“Look into drafting,” said David. “And anatomy and physiology.”
“More medical stuff!” Sigrun groaned. David laughed. “But, you’re right. If I understand what I’m drawing, and how that can be applied to 3D printers… I can help people.” She looked up and smiled. “Really help people.”