Finished purging any remaining doubts, Michael began to go over the plan. “I think we have a feasible way to get into ABCs’ stronghold, but it is a longshot. I’m going to review, as quickly as I can, safety procedures while using these rifles. I also want to go over some basic hand and arm signals.”
𓂓
Elena sat silently, a distant look in her eyes, as the woman used a damp towel to clean her face. They kept the small room very clean. It had one window, a single metal frame bed, a sink, and a toilet. Although a pair of handcuffs dangled ominously from the bed frame, there was no grate in the center of the floor. Two other women had silently made their way in after ABCs left. They stood nearby.
“Pobre cita,” the woman said as she cleaned her arms. They were bruised from the scuffle to kidnap her as well as the rough treatment from their malign captor. The other women gasped when they saw her injuries. They exchanged glances and murmured disapproval in Spanish, which Elena didn’t understand.
“What’s happening to me?” Elena asked. Her soft cries filled the small room.
The woman cleaning her stopped and put her arms around the frightened little girl. The other two women knelt on either side to comfort her. “There, there, don’t cry, ninita.” All three women cooed over her and did their best to comfort her.
“You are with us now and we will do everything we can to protect you,” one woman said as she kneeled.
“I want my momma,” Elena said with determination. Her arms stiffened and her fists tightened.
The women leaned back to give her some space, noticing her tenseness. They looked at each other and nodded in approval. “Chica valiente,” they murmured to one another.
“Brave girl,” the woman with the towel said to her so Elena could understand. Not wanting to make empty promises, she looked down and resigned herself to say, “We will do what we can to help you.”
The other two women nodded in agreement. “Si, si... yes, yes, we’ll help.”
The sobbing subsided and Elena looked up. “Thank you.”
The three women cooed again and gave her light reassuring hugs. “We are here too. We stick together. Okay?”
“Okay,” Elena said softly.
The first woman paused thoughtfully for a moment, silently assessing the little girl before her. She knew the life of unspeakable misery that awaited this child. Something moved in her that she hadn’t connected with for some time. The instinctual drive to protect a helpless child that every adult possesses. Because of the savage beatings and other abuse she had taken from ABCs, she would likely never be able to have children of her own, even if they found a way to escape. The admission deeply wounded the part of her that knew she would have been a wonderful mother. But looking into the bravery behind the eyes of this unbroken little girl reconnected her with a strength she thought had completely abandoned her. Gathering herself, she put the towel down, stood on clean bare feet, took a pace back from Elena, and put her right hand on her heart. “I am Carmen,” she said as she nodded her head forward in greeting.
Elena looked up with wide eyes. Carmen had a small form that exuded strength. She wore a clean and simple white shift. She had large brown eyes with flecks of green. The lines in her skin radiating around them spoke of her weariness. Her long dark straight hair was down and slightly disheveled.
The other two women joined Carmen and stood in a similar manner, hands on their heart.
“I am Frederica.”
“I am Rosaria.”
Frederica and Rosaria wore the same shift, also barefoot.
“We are pleased to meet you,” Carmen said. Frederica and Rosaria repeated the same greeting. They also had the same brown eyes, long dark straight hair, and beautiful almond skin. Although each shared similar dress and complexion, their unique features shone before Elena like warm morning suns watching over a peaceful faraway world. They gave her the impression of a family.
Elena slipped off the bed and stood. She put her hand on her heart and inclined her chin. “I am Elena.”
𓂓
As Michael wrapped up his discussion of the plan and weapons, Martha made her way over to Clay. “While Evan is here and we have a minute, can we talk?”
Jackie and Sean took the cue and went to help Michael pack up the duffels and load the SUV. Clay and Martha stepped toward the seating area. Clay took a seat in one of the chairs. Martha sat across from him.
“Have you had enough time to process what we talked about earlier?” Martha asked.
“I think so. As much as I can. The whole thing is still kinda strange,” Clay admitted, scratching at the back of his head.
“I’m sure. Now that Evan is with us, he wants you to know a few more things that may help.”
“Okay.” Clay sort of cocked his head to the side and smirked, visibly uncomfortable with taking tips from someone not alive.
Martha sensed his hesitation again. She paused to take out a tea candle and her Zippo lighter. The small orange flame danced as she lit the wick. In the light of the workshop, it was nearly unnoticeable. However, a very faint vision of Evan materialized. He stood—more like hovered—near the table between Clay and Martha. A sort of out-of-focus black-and-white picture you might see on an old TV getting poor reception from a storm-weary antenna clinging desperately to the roof of an abandoned house sitting alone on a dry prairie ravaged from the dust bowl era. Clay leaned back, eyes widened. The others took no notice. Apparently, they couldn’t see the apparition.
Clay did his best to steel his demeanor before speaking. “Tell him I said thank you for his help so far.”
“He can hear you, but you can’t hear him. He also wants to say thank you for being there for Jackie and Elena.”
Clay silently nodded to Evan.
“He says to assure you that if he can no longer be a warrior in the flesh, then he will be one with you in spirit.”
Clay raised his chin slightly, narrowed his eyes, and regarded Evan with an assessing gaze. “Okay. We’ll do this together.”
Martha sighed with relief seeing them reach an understanding. Men.
Tiny golden orange sparks began to rotate around the irises of Martha’s eyes. Clay, who focused on a more animated but silent vision of Evan, didn’t notice.
“He is saying that the reason you drop the connection is because you are losing focus once the fighting begins. Evan practiced meditation along with his martial arts. Having amalgamated with you, he can tell that you do not. He can help with this.”
“How?” Clay continued to regard Evan.
“Connecting with you becomes possible when you get angry and worried about Jackie or Elena, and you want to do something about it. Your heightened emotional state combined with your focus and intention on saving them matches his. However, once the fight begins, you are allowing other concerns to distract you, likely due to your lack of experience in combat.” Martha knew that Evan really meant fear caused the loss of focus, tainting his intention to protect with a primordial instinct to flee as the fight progressed. But realizing Clay’s confidence may be shaky, she had wisely decided to phrase that part a little more gently.
