The Lion's Mouth

by Brian Christopher Shea

“Sounds better than water,” Nick said, forcing a smile.

  “I’ll be outside for a bit. I’ve gotta let Jasper stretch his legs,” Rusty said.

  “Hey, Rusty, you and your partner can cut loose for a while. I’ll hit you up if we need your services,” Jones said.

  “Nope, I’d rather stay close. Seems every time I leave, y’all call me right back. I’m gonna ride this out,” Rusty said with a cock of his head.

  The group temporarily separated. Nick took small steps and the walk to the break room seemed a marathon’s distance. Anaya followed, keeping his slow pace. She smiled at his efforts and kept her hand near the small of his back. Not touching him, but prepared to react if he needed. She looked like a parent hovering over their toddler as the first steps were taken.

  “I’m fine,” Nick said.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t. Can’t a girl get a cup of coffee?” Anaya jested.

  “Sorry, I just hate being a lame duck,” Nick said with an uncharacteristic timidity.

  “There’s nothing lame about you,” Anaya said playfully.

  “Says you,” Nick said. He changed the subject, adding, “So, I never really got a chance to thank you before.”

  “Thank me? For what?” Anaya asked.

  “For saving my life. If it wasn’t for you and Mouse, I’d most likely be dead,” Nick said, humbly.

  “Oh that. Geesh, that was nothing,” Anaya said, feigning bashfulness.

  “You ever shot a gun before?” Nick asked, genuinely.

  “Why? Did I do bad?” Anaya asked coyly.

  “Not at all. Under the circumstances, you did great! It’s harder than people realize. You shot at a moving target in the dark and hit him. Best part was you didn’t hit me,” Nick said, giving her a kind smile.

  “I was actually aiming for you. Thank God I’m such a lousy shot,” Anaya said, laughing at her own joke.

  Nick chuckled, but the pain struck him like a sledgehammer and caused him to stop.

  “How’d you get into all this?” Nick asked.

  “All what? Social work?”

  “Yeah. From what Jones tells me, you’re the go-to person around here on cases like this,” Nick said, paying forward the compliment.

  “I guess you could say it’s my calling. Someone helped me out of a bad situation a long time ago, and ever since that day, I knew this was something I had to do,” Anaya said, instantly regretting the exposure to her past.

  “How bad?” Nick didn’t want to pry but he was fascinated by the woman and wanted to know more.

  “I don’t usually talk about it, but let’s just say that Mouse and I aren’t so different,” Anaya said softly. She then added, “Well there’s one glaring difference. She’s ten times tougher than I ever was.”

  “I’d say you’re pretty damn tough,” Nick said. His cheeks flushed at his cheesy attempt at a compliment. He knew his delivery did little to bely its flirtatious undertones.

  Anaya smiled and busied herself at the counter of the breakroom, pouring the coffee.

  “I don’t even know where to begin with the other girls on that map,” Nick said, easing back from the last comment.

  “I think, right now, it’s important to focus on Mouse. Once she’s safe, we can figure out the next step,” Anaya said. She was pensive for a moment before she added, “One thing I do know is the first indication they get that we’re on to them, they will change tactics. This is why they’re so hard to catch.”

  “I know. That’s my fear. These groups are always two steps ahead of us. We usually only catch the sloppy ones,” Nick said, glumly.

  Chapter 44

  The overhead speaker crackled, and the boarding announcement for the 1214 bus was barely audible over the noise of other travelers. Her full belly had brought on a weariness she hadn’t felt in a while. The adrenaline dump that had fueled her for the past few days was gone. Mouse was left with a strong desire to sleep. That’s what she planned to do as soon as she got on the bus.

  There was a slow gaggle of people making their way toward the side exit that would bring them to the bus departure area. Mouse moved quickly, wanting to ensure she secured a seat in the rear again. She exited the air-conditioned building and was smacked with the heavy humidity of the Tennessee air. The smell of diesel fuel was overwhelming and caused her to cough. As she fell in line with the other passengers, something caught her eye. It was something in the movement, a directness that seemed out of place.

  Mouse turned and saw him approaching. He was closing the gap quickly. Caught in her momentary lapse of contentedness, she’d let her guard down. Frantic, she looked for an escape. She opened her mouth to scream.

  “Mouse!” the man yelled.

  Hearing her name caused her to pause, stopping the scream before it began. Perplexed, she stood frozen by indecision.

  “It’s okay! We’re here to help,” a woman’s voice shouted.

  The woman appeared, stepping into sight from behind the man. She had dark hair and tanned skin. They both stopped approximately ten feet away and put their hands out. The two looked like they were trying to calmly approach a stray dog. Unsure and cautious.

  “We’re friends with Nick and Anaya. We’re here to help you,” Izzy said.

  Mouse looked around nervously, her eyes ping-ponging between the approaching pair and the bus she was about to board. She’d never seen these two people before. They knew her name, but life had taught her many lessons. Trust was not given easily.

  She looked toward the bus and then back at the two, who had stopped their slow approach. Some of the other passengers had taken notice of this odd exchange, not knowing what to make of it.

  The man had kind eyes, but the rest of him looked like he was cut from stone, standing rigid as if ready to pounce. She heard her father’s words. Commit to the action needed. Then act. The problem was Mouse could not make a decision.

  And then something strange happened. The stone man slapped at his neck as if reacting to a bee sting. Seconds later, he crumpled to the ground. The woman next to him panicked, dropping to her knees to render aid. He lay on the ground, unmoving.

  “Declan! What the…” Izzy couldn’t finish the statement.

  She dropped to her knees next to Declan. Someone appeared beside her. Izzy moved for her sidearm, which was concealed under her untucked shirt.

  “I’m a doctor! Is this your husband?” he asked.

  He took up a position alongside her and rapidly moved his hands along his neck, checking for a pulse. He bent low putting his right ear just above Declan’s mouth as he looked for the rise and fall of his chest.

  “Huh? What? No. Not his wife. You’re a doctor?” Izzy jumbled the barrage of questions.

  “Relax. He has a pulse and he’s breathing. Any history?” the doctor asked.

  He sat up and pulled a phone from his pocket.

  “I…I don’t know,” Izzy stammered.

  Their plan to recover the girl was quickly falling apart. Izzy shot a glance toward the girl. She was still standing in the same spot. Frozen in place. Izzy held up a finger toward that girl, indicating for her to wait while she figured out what to do with her fallen partner.

  “Yes. Hello. I’ve got a man unconscious. He’s got a pulse and is breathing. Please step it up,” the doctor said into the phone. He ended the call and turned to Izzy. “Good news, there is an ambulance close by. Should be here in a minute.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Izzy asked.

  “Not sure. Looks like a bee sting,” the doctor said.

  He directed Izzy’s attention, pointing to a small red dot along the right side of Declan’s neck. There was a tiny drop of blood and the skin around it was raised slightly.

  “Is your friend allergic?”

  “I don’t know. Shit! Bee sting?” Izzy asked. The question was more to herself than the doctor.

  A loud siren filled the air as an ambulance rounded the corner. The blue and red lights bounced off the windows of the bus termin
al creating a disco tech effect.

  “Jesus, that was fast,” Izzy said, looking in the direction of the noise.

  “Well, the lady on the phone did say they were just around the corner,” the doctor said, reassuringly.

  He then stood and began waving his arms overhead, flagging down the ambulance. He pointed down at Declan as the ambulance pulled along the curb.

  In the commotion, Izzy looked back toward Mouse or where she used to be. The girl was gone and so was the bus. Izzy pulled out her phone as the two large EMTs approached purposefully, wheeling a gurney between them.

  “Something happened to Declan! Bee sting. He just collapsed. The girl is on the move. Keep tracking her! I’ll figure this out. They’re prepping him to move,” Izzy said in rapid fire succession to Nick.

  She hung up without waiting for a response and addressed the medical team. Izzy lifted her shirt just enough to expose her badge that was clipped to her beltline. They nodded to her, indicating they got the message.

  “I’ll follow. Where are you taking him?” Izzy asked one of the paramedics as he loaded Declan onto a gurney.

  “Memorial,” the man said, strapping in Declan’s chest.

  “Thank you,” Izzy said to the doctor before running off toward the parking lot.

  Cain had planned it. He would wait until the Heathen was in line for the bus and then approach. His lines rehearsed, he would have acted like a thankful parent finding his runaway daughter. If she resisted, then any onlookers would understand. It would be perceived as a father trying to recover his rebellious teen. The gun pressed against her side would quickly calm her down, and he would extricate her to his Ford Escape. Quick and easy.

  In a moment of chaos, it all fell apart. Just as he’d begun moving toward the Heathen, someone called out to her. A man and woman had known where she was. They were there to intercept her.

  This man and woman knew exactly where she was. How was that possible? And then, in the midst of their intrusion, the man collapsed. There were so many things wrong with what Cain had just witnessed. His small window of opportunity had been stolen from him. Rage caused his hands to tremble as he watched the Heathen’s bus pull out from the depot.

  Chapter 45

  Izzy broke into a sprint to the Camry as she saw that the ambulance was already pulling out of the bus terminal parking lot. She entered the car and dropped it into drive and accelerated to catch up. Pulling out her cellphone, she called Nick again. Her last message had been an onslaught of craziness and she wanted to clarify things.

  “We saw the girl. Almost had her. Declan’s in an ambulance, and we’re heading to the hospital,” Izzy said in rapid-fire succession.

  “What? Declan’s hurt?” Nick asked, wrought with guilt.

  “Bee sting or something,” Izzy said. The fog of confusion still evident in her disjointed explanation.

  “I don’t understand. Bee sting?” Nick asked.

  “Strangest thing. We saw the girl as she was about to get on a Greyhound bus. We were talking to her, and then all of a sudden, Declan went down,” Izzy said, slowing the pace of her words.

  “The girl?” Nick asked.

  “Gone. I’m assuming she got on the bus. I was distracted by Declan’s situation,” Izzy said, expressing her frustration.

  “At least we know she is on a bus. We can get some local assistance and pick her up. Keep me posted on Declan’s condition,” Nick said.

  “Thank goodness a doctor was standing by when he went down. Who would’ve thought that tough old Declan could be brought down by a bee sting?” Izzy paused as she spoke the words. Realizing the improbable likelihood of the occurrence, she froze.

  “Crazy,” Nick said.

  Izzy didn’t hear him. Her mind quickly replayed the events that just transpired.

  “Izzy?” Nick asked.

  “Shit! Gotta go. Keep me posted on the girl,” Izzy said, hanging up the phone without waiting for a response.

  The bus moved onto I-57 heading north. Cain followed a few cars behind in his Ford Escape. The disappointment of the failed intercept at the bus station plagued his mind, causing him to press hard into his injured thigh. With the sharp pain came a temporary relief.

  He would have to wait for the bus to stop again. He knew his timeline had just been extended. A need to hear some reassurance from the Pastor overwhelmed him, but he refrained from relaying his latest missed opportunity. Instead, he inserted a new CD and allowed the words to provide comfort, like that of a worn blanket.

  It is in the deepest moments of desperation that we seek His strength. For to turn your back at those times is a recipe for certain disaster. But don’t be fooled. Another hand will reach out for you. That hand will feel familiar. It will give you hope, but then it will pull you deeper. Into that dark place. For the seeker of souls will use those moments of weakness to twist you. To confuse you.

  How do you see the difference? How do you know which hand is the Way? The answer is simple. In the darkness, you will feel that light cascade upon you. You will know because it will be brilliant.

  As if on cue, the high-beams of a passing 18-wheeler momentarily blinded Cain. He smiled faintly, knowing he was on the right path.

  Chapter 46

  The red light seeped in through his eyes as they opened. He was moving and could feel the shake of the vehicle. On his back, he tried without success to sit upright. His chest was restrained. His wrists slid along a railing and were also secured. Declan replayed the events, and he recalled finding the girl, Mouse. He was talking with her, and then it all went dark.

  Still dizzy from whatever caused him to blackout, he no longer fought against the restraints. Looking up, he saw a man wearing a light blue shirt with an EMS patch on the sleeve. The man was leaning forward and talking with the driver. It was hard to make out the conversation through the noise of the ambulance’s rumbling. It was in the mannerism of the EMS worker that Declan noticed something was off, an intangible but defining quality in the man. He felt a wave of nervousness rush over him, and he began to wiggle his wrist, attempting to find a way to free himself from the restraint.

  “How far out?” the man in the EMS said, shouting over the noise to the driver.

  The answer was muffled, but it sounded like he said, not long. And then his voice became clear as he yelled, “What the hell is she doing?”

  “Who?” the man in the EMS shirt said, not having a clear visual through the small window.

  “The damn lady from the bus station! She’s passing us,” the driver said, nervously.

  “So? She’s probably trying to get to the hospital before us,” the man in the EMS shirt said. He showed little concern and added, “Better for us, anyway, since we’re not going to the hospital.”

  With that last comment, he turned to look back at Declan. Seeing that he was awake seemed to cause him to panic slightly.

  “He’s coming to,” the man in the EMS shirt relayed.

  “Not to worry. Those restraints are tight,” the driver said.

  It was obvious that the man in the EMS shirt was not convinced, and he shifted his body to the bench seat adjacent to Declan. He began checking the straps one at a time, starting with the chest. Hovering over Declan, he checked the far side wrist strap.

  “Shit!” the driver yelled as he slammed the brakes, causing the ambulance to lurch forward hard.

  The sudden movement caught the unbalanced man in the EMS shirt off-guard, sending him forward over Declan and into a hard metal cabinet above. The ambulance jerked violently to the right as more expletives escaped the mouth of the driver. The hard turn pitched the boxed vehicle to the left. It teetered, fighting against the inertia as it pulled. The burping sound of the skidding tires and then split second of silence before the ambulance crashed down on the driver’s side. Declan was jostled hard, but the tight restraints and the floor-locked gurney proved to be his safeguard.

  The screech of metal on asphalt was deafening as the ambulance slid on its side
until it came to a stop. The tires were still spinning hard but without the street underneath they just made a loud whirring sound.

  The engine stopped and the noise from the wheels went silent. Declan craned his neck and saw the man in the EMS shirt pressed into a corner. He looked like a crumpled laundry heap, except for the bloodied face that protruded. His body had been folded into an unnatural state. Declan couldn’t tell if he was dead, but he was definitely temporarily out of commission.

  He could hear the crunch of glass under foot as someone approached. Someone was walking around the front of the ambulance.

  “Hands! Show me slowly! Slower!” Izzy’s voice was loud but controlled. “Keep ‘em there and don’t move!”

  Declan heard the familiar metallic clink of handcuffs.

  “Izzy, one’s down in here. Not moving. Not sure his status,” Declan called out to his friend.

  The rear door opened and made a loud crashing sound as it swung down onto the pavement. Izzy entered and looked at Declan suspended sideways on the gurney like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. He was smiling.

  Gun out, she moved past him and headed straight for the man in the EMS shirt. She pulled two pairs of zip ties from the small of her back. She went to work, securing his hands and ankles. She ran an additional tie to connect the restraints behind his back, effectively hog-tying him. The crumpled man grunted as Izzy ratcheted down the final tie, indicating that he was still among the living. She searched him and came up holding a gun she’d removed from his waistline.

  “Healthcare ain’t what it used to be,” Declan said with a laugh.

  “Are you just going to hang out all day or what?” Izzy asked as she unstrapped Declan’s sinewy frame from the gurney.

  As the straps came free, he plunked down, landing on his hands and knees. He took a moment to orient himself before standing.

  “How’d you know?” Declan asked.

  “It happened fast. You going down, I mean. But as I was getting in the car to follow, I realized something was off. You going down with a bee sting and a doctor right there were clear red flags in hindsight. But the real aha moment came while I was driving behind the ambulance. I knew you were in trouble. That doctor called for an ambulance but never gave a location. Yet, moments later it appeared,” Izzy said. “Sorry it took me so long to piece it together.”