Three worlds collide, p.41
Three Worlds Collide, page 41
Jackie was hunched with a hand on the wall, transfixed, not sure if what she saw was real or a manifestation of her desire to find her lost little girl. “Momma?” Elena yelped as she took off down the hall and into her mother’s embrace.
Jackie wept softly and closed her arms around her sweet little Elena, vowing silently to never again let her out of her sight.
Sean stepped back up to the window, the deep thrumming sound more distinct. Closer. He looked back at Michael, who had pulled a miraculously undamaged phone from his pocket. He had two text notifications from Agent Connor.
‘Rescue on the way,’ the first one read.
The next said, ‘We’ve been monitoring drone feed. My team got wind of what you were doing, all on-duty agents wanted to help. Hang in there.’
Michael let his hand fall to his side, the screen of his phone illuminating his leg. “Those are helicopters. They’ve sent a rescue team.”
The sounds of soft grateful sobs from Jackie and Elena spilled out into the cool night air. The others murmured their thankfulness as well.
𓂓
Slade watched the hacked video feed on the DEA drone and felt a sigh of relief when they arrived. He hoped everyone made it out.
As he logged off the feed, he heard footsteps in the stairwell just outside his door. The second-floor door swung open and two men poured through, dressed in similar suits. A few steps and they were in Slade’s office without a word. He shifted in his chair and asked, “Can I help you?”
One of the men took out his ID, showed it to Slade. “Agent Sparkman, DEA,” he said. “We’d like to talk to you about the drone you just hacked—our drone.”
“Look, guys, I was just trying to help one of our detectives,” Slade said. “One of the good ones.”
“Yeah, we know,” Sparkman said.
“All I did was distribute the feed to the mobile devices used by the DEA team members, the same people Officer Street had been working with. It was a long shot, but I figured once they saw what was going down, they would back him up.”
“Well, you were right,” Sparkman said. “But this isn’t what you think it is.”
“Okay, so what is it?” Slade asked.
“We want to hire you.”
“Hire me, the DEA?” Slade said.
“We could use your... particular tech skill set.”
“Look, I’m trying to be a detective, not a technician,” Slade replied.
“Maybe you can be both.” Sparkman paused, pulled something up on his phone, and showed it to Slade. “We have a case in Central Florida, Orlando area. An old friend of yours is in too deep.” With that, he showed Slade a photo of a man.
Slade sat back in his chair and turned away, shaking his head. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, face tensed. I thought I was done with all that.
“We know you might have an in. We want to plant you in Florida as an undercover agent. You can work the detective job in the department, sure, but you’ll also work on this for us.”
“I’ll have to think about it... talk to my wife about a move to Florida,” Slade replied.
“Do that,” Agent Sparkman said as he pointed to the floor. “This department is about to get gutted, corrupt to the core. You want to be long gone before that happens.”
𓂓
The Shaman hustled around inside his adobe dwelling, packing only what he would need. He had received word of Armando’s failure and knew they would come for him.
“True, the Demon Scorpion has been defeated,” he had implored the leader of the Scorpion Cartel on the early morning phone call. “But look what he accomplished.”
“He has left a path of destruction in his wake, and we have lost all we gained. The cartels have already fallen back into chaos,” the leader said.
“You call it failure. I call it success. Think of what more we can do if you—”
“Enough. Stay where you are. My men will be there to pick you up.”
The call ended. The Shaman walked outside, set the phone on a rock, and smashed it with another. He went back into his dwelling and sat on his cot with a huff. So much work lost. He knew he needed to leave right away, so he would only take the essentials. As he scanned his home for the items he would need, his gaze fell on a bundle of papers sticking out of the antique backpack that had been handed down to him. He reached for the olive-green canvas pack and searched for the hidden inner pocket. He found the flask of Himbeergeist raspberry Schnapps and regarded it for a moment before taking a satisfying drink and returning the flask to its hiding spot.
Knowing what was coming, he removed the bundle of papers along with a sack of coins. He spilled the coins on the bed beside him, then flipped through the papers until he located the one he needed. Setting the bundle down, he smoothed his fingers over his copy of the Liber Linteus de Cetamura with reverence. After the initial flush of warmth from the spirit, he felt a sudden chill and a rush of air. Hints of orange light filled his vision. The coins rattled with tension, emitting reddish and orangish glows. The Shaman placed a calming hand on them as the apparition appeared before him, then consumed him—merged with him. His eyes lit the inside of the dwelling with an orange glow. Then he understood. He would have to go into hiding for a time before making the journey to America.
In his mind, he heard Seti I. “The restoration of my inner circle must wait. Keep them safe. We are in danger, but you must tie up loose ends here before moving on. Then you must find this older woman. The one your pupil mentioned. And above all else, you must retrieve the Ouija.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jackie sat by the hospital bed, a wistful look on her face. Elena stood dutifully by her side. It had been a couple weeks since the events at Little Guantanamo. They had been airlifted out of the desert by the DEA response team and rushed to the hospital. Frederica and Rosaria were rescued along with Jackie, Clay, and Michael. Sean and Martha had gathered their gear, then drove the Suburban back to town.
Jackie’s and Michael’s wounds had been cleaned and dressed. A few stitches were needed. Michael required minor surgery on his shoulder. They’d both stayed in the hospital for a few nights for observation. Both eventually found themselves in Clay’s room along with Martha and Sean. Clay had not been alone since he’d arrived in a coma. He lost a significant amount of blood, but Sean’s field dressings had saved his life.
The sun began to set on another day. Still no movement from Clay. The machines beeped slowly, monitoring his vitals. Jackie reached out again and took his hand as she had done so many times over the past few days. She murmured soft words of encouragement, uncertain if he could hear. Then she stopped and looked down in surprise. He’d tightened his grip on her hand. She looked up and saw him staring back at her, a soft white glow emanating from his eyes.
Jackie put her hands on her mouth and sat back, unable to control her tears. Then, something in Clay shifted as the light left his eyes. He blinked and looked around at the people in his room. His gaze settled back on Elena and Jackie. His eyes clear and normal. No white light.
“So glad you’re safe, little one,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Water,” he croaked. They rang for a nurse, who appeared instantly. Everyone gave him room as he worked. Checking vitals, adjusting a drip, helping Clay slowly drink fluids. In a few minutes, he turned, smiled, and walked out of the room.
Everyone huddled around his bed, smiling and welcoming him back. Clay’s eyes welled with tears as the reality set in. Somehow, they’d made it through and saved Elena. Overcome with gratitude, he thanked each of his friends in turn. When he finally came around to Martha, he raised his eyelids.
Martha understood. “Yes, Clay, Evan is here.”
Clay paused a beat. He didn’t know it yet, but since the incident, no one, not even Jackie, had spoken openly about the circumstances revolving around his connections with Evan. “Tell him I said thank you.”
“He can hear you,” Martha said.
“He stayed with me. I remember lying on the floor in the hallway, then that’s it. Somehow, Evan stayed with me to make sure I made it back from the coma.”
Jackie gasped. Martha gave a knowing nod. “Clay, he wants you to know he thinks you are a good guy.”
“I’d shake his hand if I could,” Clay replied.
Martha turned her attention to Jackie. They shrugged at each other, men, and smiled warmly knowing the other’s thoughts. Then Jackie put her arm around Elena and gave Martha an expectant look.
“Is Evan still here?” Jackie asked softly.
“Yes,” Martha replied.
“He can hear me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll always love you, Evan. You saved my little girl. Words can’t express...” Jackie began to weep softly.
Elena put her arms around Jackie, comforting her. Then she looked into her mother’s eyes, a mischievous grin on her face. “Can we ask Evan who’s right?”
Martha looked over to Evan, who had a puzzled look on his face, then back to Jackie, who also looked confused.
Jackie cupped Elena’s cheek. “What do you mean, honey?”
“Is it Package Corps or Package Fairies?” Elena whispered.
Martha looked over to see a broad smile come over Evan’s face as he turned to step into an expanding light. It seemed to extend back into a swirling tunnel, deepening with each moment. The walls of the tunnel appeared to Martha to be cloudy, but as the formation came into resolve, she could see the tunnels were formed not of cloud but of the energies of the deceased, spiriting Evan to the light. Assuring him he could move on now. The people he cared about were safe. He was finally at peace. They didn’t speak, but she understood their intent.
Elena asked again, more urgently now, “It’s Fairies, isn’t it?”
Evan turned to face Elena and Jackie, uttering his response.
“Yes. Fairies,” Martha said for Evan. “Definitely fairies.”
With that, Evan stepped into The Beyond.
𓂓
A couple more weeks passed. As had become their habit each morning after Jackie dropped Elena off at school, she and Clay sat watching the morning news. Jackie had decided to take some extended vacation time in order to recover and help Clay. She stopped each day at her favorite spot for fresh steamy coffees and healthy snacks. Aside from the fact he may have lost a few marbles this time, Clay’s injuries, though extensive, were healing just fine. He’d regained full mobility and was set to be released from the hospital in a couple days. Michael, Sean, and Martha dropped by regularly, but mornings were just for them.
Even though Clay never met John the driver or the woman who had been slain at Little Guantanamo, Jackie had told him all about them and the events surrounding their deaths. Clay was not only shocked to learn about how the guy acted while he lay unconscious on the street but also of John’s brutal death. Agents had found his shallow grave near the compound along with the mutilated remains of dozens of other victims. But when he heard of Carmen’s sacrifice to try and save little Elena, he was deeply saddened. On their way out, he briefly met the surviving two women of the Paititi Three. They were scheduled to return to their home country along with Carmen’s body. She would receive a proper burial according to their customs. Many people would have her picture in their home for día de Los Muertos. A great honor.
Clay, Jackie, and the others hadn’t exactly understood the popularity of the Paititi Three in Latin America, but their disappearance was a scandal across Latino America. A tragic crime that had never been solved. Which is why the news headline caught their eye. Clay turned up the volume on the TV, which hadn’t shown any signs of blowing out since Evan left them. The ticker at the bottom read, ‘Paititi Three found after six years, two alive, one slain in dramatic rescue involving a kidnapped child.’
The reporter repeated the headline, then continued with the story, “...long suspected to have been the work of a notorious drug lord that had fled Latin America, Armando Beltrain Cardentias, who called himself The Alphabet King. These suspicions were confirmed when DEA agents stormed his hideout. Carmen, the lead vocalist for the group, was tragically killed trying to protect a little girl from being taken into the underground flesh trade. The so-called Alphabet King, who was killed in his notorious tunnel system, fancied himself a modern-day Robin Hood, much like drug lords of the past. But despite his apparent delusions, when the kidnapping was linked to him, he was widely condemned by the people. An unusual stance given the universal fear of drug lords. Locals are quoted as calling him ‘non’runa’—a derogatory term for someone who stepped too far outside of acceptable societal norms, even for a criminal. The Paititi Three were precious to everyone. The surviving members, Frederica, and Rosaria, returned to their hometown and laid to rest their sister-in-spirit, Carmen. While they recover from their ordeal, the surviving women have vowed to take up their instruments again and dedicate their career to Carmen’s memory.”
Clay and Jackie looked at each other with blank stares. Although their involvement and that of Sean and Martha had been wisely omitted in the DEA’s statement to the press, they had played a hand in rescuing these women. Now it turned out they were cultural icons to millions of Latin Americans. They’d had no idea. When the shock wore off, Clay reached for Jackie’s hand. “I know I say this every day, but I’m really thankful to have you and Elena in my life.”
She took his hand in both of hers. “I hope it stays that way.” Then she leaned over to give him a hug.
𓂓
Leaning in the doorway, Michael watched as they embraced. “Hands off my girl, buddy.”
Jackie stood up, a look of surprise on her face. “Hey, baby, she said.”
Michael strode in and she walked around the bed to meet him. They paused for a moment, then shared a lingering kiss, their lips not wanting to part as they stepped back.
Clay leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Let me know when you’re done.”
Michael chuckled. Jackie patted him playfully on the chest. “We might need a few more minutes.”
“Oh boy,” Clay replied with a small laugh. Then he turned to the door and saw a now familiar face looking back at him.
“Hey, Charlotte,” Clay said, remembering their agreement to keep her nickname private. She had shared with him that she didn’t like being called Charlie in front of strangers.
She breezed into the room. “Hey, tough guy,” she teased. As she walked by Michael and Jackie, she shook her finger and clucked her tongue. “You two.” Then rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. She stopped at Clay’s bedside, fussed with his sheet and pillow for a moment, then leaned in and gave Clay a brief hug, holding his gaze for a lingering moment before standing back up. Over the past couple weeks, Charlotte had been a regular fixture among the makeshift family. But today, she had someone new in tow. The young fella stood in the doorway, peering in with large shy eyes. “Jensen,” Charlotte said. “Come on in, honey.” He pushed back his long straight hair, adjusted his backpack, and stepped in.
Jackie kneeled down and put out a hand. “Hi, Jensen. I’m Jackie.”
Jensen looked to his mom, who nodded. He stepped forward and took her hand. “Hi,” he said with a brief smile.
Jackie nodded approvingly, then motioned up. “This is Michael.”
The young man looked up at the man in the officer uniform and waved a hand. “Hi.”
Michael smiled. “Nice to meet you.” Jensen shuffled by them in a too-big outfit his mom had assured him he would grow into.
“Jensen,” Charlotte said. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend. This is Clay.”
“Hi, Jensen, nice to meet you,” Clay said.
“Hi, Clay,” Jensen said. “Mom told me you do art.”
“Sort of,” he replied. “For my designs.”
“I do too, sort of,” Jensen replied. With that, he slid the backpack off his shoulders, set it on a nearby chair, and pulled out a sketch pad. Clutching the pad, he looked up to his mom.
“It’s okay, go ahead,” she said and motioned to Clay.
Jensen set the pad on the bed between his mom and Clay and leafed through it. “I like to draw plants and flowers,” he said.
𓂓
Michael and Jackie had excused themselves to go for coffee in the cafeteria. Jensen sat back in a nearby chair, looking up at a vase of tiger lilies, then back down to his pad, drawing furiously. Charlotte smiled his way, then turned back to Clay. He patted a space on the hospital bed and she sat down, taking his hand in hers.
They enjoyed the peace and quiet for a moment, then continued their conversation.
“So, he’s still here?” Clay asked.
“He’s here morning and afternoon,” Charlotte replied.
“Still not able to speak?” Clay asked.
“No. The doctors did say her voice box will take time to heal,” Charlotte said.
“Probably better for Baldwin,” Clay quipped.
Charlotte smacked his hand, mouth agape with a look of surprise. “Clay Thompson!”
They shared a laugh. “No, really, I’m glad she’s okay,” Clay said. “But Baldwin seems like he’s here out of a sense of duty, rather than...”
“He does seem cold toward her. I wonder what happened between those two?” Charlotte asked.
“Jackie filled me in a little. She basically drove him off,” Clay replied.
“Well, she seems grateful now to have him here,” Charlotte said.
“I am too,” Clay replied. “He’s much easier to work with, very reasonable. You know... like a normal person.”
“Be nice.” Charlotte patted his hand again. “He does seem pleased with Sean’s work though.”
Clay shook his head. “Sure does.”
After he had awoken from his coma, Sean started running Sally’s job while Clay recovered. Michael had been dropping him off each day to get Clay’s truck. Sean had been picking up the day’s helpers at their designated meeting spot each morning. The project was coming along nicely. On his way to see Sally, Baldwin had stopped by Clay’s room several times to discuss the project. Sean usually met up with them to get updates and tips on how to handle various challenges with the project.
