Bitsy sidled over to Wynne who wrapped a consoling arm around the child and admonished Dorrie with one word, her given name. “Dorothy.”
“Don’t Dorothy me,” Dorrie said in defiance of the hated name. “She’s old enough to know better and her crying could have got Matty caught.”
“And they were already looking for him anyway,” Rashonda added.
Dorrie rolled her eyes and Royal gave his twin a shove. “I told you you’d screw it up.”
“Stop!” Mira called out before another argument began. “What do you mean they were looking for Matty?”
“One of them said my name,” he confessed. “We were close enough to hear them talking, but it was hard, you know, because of the faceplates. One of them said Dorrie’s name, too, and one of them laughed and said something I couldn’t hear and then the third guy punched him. It must have hurt because the guy dropped the f-bomb.”
Royal nodded. “We all heard that one.”
Now that everyone else was talking, Rashonda jumped back in. “Even Mr. Tomaselli heard it. He told them to watch their mouths. He’s the one who made them leave. He must have known we were there, too, because he yelled at us to tell Mira she needed to think about who could do her the most good.”
“Which side her bread is buttered on,” Royal corrected. At Rashonda’s elbow jab to the ribs, he added defensively, “That’s what he said.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“And then?” Wynne prompted sharply. If anything, her face was whiter than before. “Did he say anything else? Did you answer him?”
“No,” Dorrie snapped, clearly affronted. “We did what Mira taught us and stayed where we were for fifteen minutes to be sure they were gone. Then we came home.”
“Then she made us wait while she circled around the neighborhood to make sure no one was watching,” Rashonda complained. “I’m hungry.”
~*~
Later, long after they had their late supper and enjoyed their apple cobbler for dessert, Mira stole away to the roof. The children were in bed and Wynne was enjoying a much needed hot bath. Mira knew she shouldn’t be there, but it was the only place she could think of where she could be alone with her thoughts and she needed to be alone.
Ahnyis had promised that Roark was different. No children had been taken since his arrival, so Mira had believed her. The reappearance of the Godan soldiers made her question that belief. And what did she really know about Ahnyis? What kind of heart lay beneath that pretty face and innocent smile? She was a childhood friend of Roark’s, and had made it clear she would do anything to see him happy.
Roark knew about the children and knew she’d lied about them. He also knew that the one thing that stood in the way of her moving in was her family. Had she mentioned their names? Mira couldn’t remember.
She knew Roark was ruthless in battle. He’d likened his pursual of her to a war. Would he be ruthless there, too? Did he see the removal of the children as the elimination of an obstacle, another battle won?
Anthony Tomaselli was somehow involved, too, and that surprised her. According to David, Tomaselli was pretty damn vocal about people who ‘collaborated’ with the enemy. In a way though, it made sense. If Anthony was working with them in some underhanded way, he wouldn’t want anyone to know about it, or have a chance to share in the profits. He made a lot of his money in black market goods. Who would have better access to those goods than the Godan? Was that the trade? Children for goods?
Mason had told her to trust no one, yet she had trusted them all. She felt like a fool. Worse, she now had to wonder how much of a role David had played. He was angry with the amount of time, attention, and money the children took; time, attention, and money he thought should be his. Was he angry enough to turn them in to his new idol?
Mira had always seen herself as the rock on which her family stood. She was the strong one, the one whose job it was to protect them from a world gone to hell. And what had she done? She’d driven her brother into a den of thieves and placed the children in danger. She’d betrayed her sister who placed her trust in Mira’s good sense. She’d allowed her heart to rule her head and she should have known better. When had her heart ever shown good sense? She’d put her own happiness before her family.
“Mira,” her sister called softly as she approached. “Are you okay?”
Head wrapped in a towel, Wynne took a seat beside her.
“No,” Mira answered honestly. “I’ve screwed it up. I’ve screwed everything up.”
“Everything’s all right.”
“It’s not right, Wynne. They shouldn’t have to live this way. They shouldn’t get excited over a bag of rotten apples and a can of dried fruit. They shouldn’t be playing Queen of the Mountain on a pile of rubble. Matias shouldn’t have seen what he saw in that apartment today. I should have been there. I should have...”
Her sister leaned into her shoulder. “You can’t protect them, Mira. You can’t protect me, either. Don’t look at me like that. You think I don’t know? I hear things on the street and I’ve seen things I wish I didn’t. Dorrie’s right, you know. As much as we might want them to be, they’re not little kids anymore. They can’t afford to be and we can’t afford to let them. Look what’s happened to Davey.”
“I failed him.”
“No,” Wynne said sharply. “I’m not letting you take that one on yourself. If anything, we failed him. Together. We tried to give him the childhood he would have had in the old world. We didn’t know then what we know now. God willing, these kids will grow up and start families of their own. They need to know how to survive in the world as it is and not in the world as we want it to be. That world’s never coming back.”
Mira remembered her similar conversation with Roark. “You’ve always known that, haven’t you? I just figured that out last night.”
Wynne laughed softly and bumped her shoulder into Mira’s. “I’m the smart one, remember? I accept things as they are.” She bumped her sister again. “But you, my darling, pigheaded sister, you’re the clever one. You try to change them.”
“Mostly all I’ve done is tilt at windmills.”
“Huh?”
Mira smiled ruefully. “Don Quixote, oh smart one. The Impossible Dream? Nona used to make Uncle Frank sing it all the time. She said he sounded like Pavarotti.”
Wynne snickered. “Nona was tone deaf.”
“So was Uncle Frank.”
They both made the sign of the Cross to bless the dead, and then snorted together and burst into laughter. When they were finished, they put their arms around each other’s shoulder and tilted their heads together.
“I think there’s a windmill over on the military base that needs tilting at. He calls you my Mirakins.” It was the closest her sister could get in translation.
Mira didn’t smile at her teasing. “I can’t, Wynne. Don’t you see? What happened to the kids tonight, he’s a part of it. They’re all in on it.” She told her sister everything.
When Mira finished, Wynne shook her head. “Now I see why they called me the smart one. All you know for sure is that Anthony, the lowlife, is involved. Big surprise. That’s all you’ll ever know unless you go back and find out the truth.” With another shoulder bump, she added, “Besides, after your next bout of hot sex, I need you to ask about electricity and hot water? Oh, and Mrs. Pulaski wants to know how the dress worked out and did you give him her list. She stopped by twice this morning before you got home.”
Mira’s shoulders slumped. “Which means the whole damn neighborhood knows where I spent the night.”
Wynne unfolded her crossed legs and stood up. She held out her hand. “Yes,” she laughed as she helped Mira to her feet, “and ninety percent of those neighbors are women who’ve mostly forgotten what sex with a man feels like. They’d kill for the details, so going back to your Commander really is for your own safety.”
Like Royal, Mira gave her sister a shove.
The explosion a few blocks away rocked
the building hard enough to send them sprawling. The structure shuddered as it settled back into place. Brick fell from the edge of the roof. Another explosion followed the first, but neither sister saw where it came from or cared. Sirens began to wail as they tore down the stairs to herd the terrified children into the basement.
Chapter 16
“Where are the damned fighters?” Roark shouted as he maneuvered the skitt around the debris littering the newly cleared the streets.
A building up ahead to the right was struck. It shuddered violently, seemed to stabilize, and then collapsed one story onto the next. The side wall of the two story brick structure next to it went down, too. Unable to withstand the vibrations, the front wall followed in one piece, crashing down into the road. Ahnyis screamed and clutched at Mason as Roark slid the skitt up on its side to skim along the facades of the buildings opposite.
The bombing stopped as quickly as it began. The silver eagles had finally arrived and as the big birds of prey began their battle in the sky, Roark zipped through the streets toward Mira’s building. He stopped the hovercraft so abruptly its passengers were thrown forward.
Only one corner of the structure still stood. Locked in an embrace of terror, an older couple stood against the second story wall on a two foot ledge. It was all that was left of their kitchen.
Roark settled the skitt to the street and called up to the couple. “I’ll bring you down one at a time. You’re going to have to jump.”
“Roark, you can’t hover that high,” Ahnyis warned. “Jumping the fence was risky enough. The added weight will bring us crashing down.”
“Which is why you’re getting out. All of you.”
“But Roark...”
“Don’t argue with me. Out. Now. Move out of the way in case the wall gives way.”
The higher the skitt rose, the more unstable it became. It was wobbling badly by the time he brought it to the necessary height. The woman was sobbing hysterically and clinging to the man who was urging her to make the short leap off the ledge and onto the hovercraft. He finally tore her hands from his shirt and pushed her from the ledge. Roark did what he could to break her fall, but she still landed heavily.
The skitt tilted precariously to the side and losing the air pressure beneath it, crashed downward and dangerously close to the pile of rubble beneath it. Roark righted it just in time and brought the skitt to a halt in front of the three waiting safely across the street. He then returned to the man who, frightened but in control, stepped from the ledge and into the passenger seat. The hovercraft wobbled but held and Roark lowered it safely to the ground.
The man had no sooner stepped from the skitt than Roark was stepping out, too. A small crowd had gathered and more were moving up the street. Most were covered in the filth of the explosion. A few were bleeding.
“The women, the women who live here, where are they?”
The woman was still too hysterical to answer. The man shook his head in confusion.
“No one lives here but us. No one has for months.”
“Mira Donazetto and her sister,” Roark clarified as if the man had misunderstood. “They live here with the sister’s children.”
“I’m telling you, mister, no one lives here but me and the missus, and it looks like we don’t live here now either. I gotta thank you for showing up when you did. I thought me and Mama were goners.”
As if to prove his point, what was left of the structure collapsed in a cloud of dust. He looked to his wife who was now seated on the ground with Ahnyis kneeling beside her. He blinked twice as if his eyes might not be seeing clearly and shook his head again.
“Damned if she don’t look like a cat.” He looked back at Roark and seemed surprised there, too. “Well hell, I thought you were one of us, but you ain’t. Never expected to see one of you fellas in here saving folks like us.” He bobbed his head. “Grateful. Real grateful. Wish I could return the favor, but I can’t.”
“Wait,” his wife called, somewhat recovered. She patted Ahnyis’s hand and offered her a shaky smile. “Don’t you listen to Ben. You’re a pretty little thing with a gentle touch.” She nodded at Roark. “Not like that big fella there. I’ll bet he’s talking about those two girls who lived here before us. You know, Ben, the ones Jane talked about, the ones with a passel of mismatched kids.”
“They moved out months ago, over to the other side of town or so I heard,” a woman from the crowd called. “I told them keeping those kids was crazy,” she added to the woman standing next to her.
Roark was speaking into his com link before the woman finished her sentence.
“Mohawk,” he said without preamble, “get the name and address of that driver we hired to take care of Mira. I want to know where he takes her. Because it’s not here, damn it!”
While he was listening, a boy arrived crying, “Help me, please. The upstairs collapsed. My mother’s under the floor. I can’t get it off her. She’s crying for help.”
Roark nodded at the blooded warrior who’d shared their wild ride and the young soldier, along with several women, ran off with the boy. Roark hit the comlink button again.
“Harm. We need rescue crews, life scanners, medics, and a couple of MUs. Send a crew out with an OSD. Whoever did this has access to prokash crystals. The place reeks of it, that’s how I know. I want to know where they got it from.”
“Mason, what kind of a person does this to their own people?” Ahnyis asked while tending to the injuries with what little she had from the box stored under the skitt’s back seat.
“Assholes, jackasses, fucking idiots. How would I know?” Mason accepted the plastic bucket filled with clean water from one of the women. “Thank you, darlin’. You’re a lovely girl and I hope you save me a dance at the next country club wingding.”
“The country club’s gone,” the young woman giggled, clearly flattered to be singled out.
The doctor winked. “Then we’ll dance in the streets, luv. You wouldn’t have a needle and thread to go with that water, would you?”
“Mason!” Ahnyis glared at him and hissed.
“What? It’s not the best, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Roark toed Mason with his boot. “Save the flirting for your free time.”
“I have no free time.”
“Exactly.”
A med-unit hovered above them. When the crowd dispersed enough for it to land, the tall, dome shaped vehicle settled slowly into a clear space in the street. The sides opened outward and separated, forming four treatment stations. Six Medics jumped to the ground from the center of the unit.
Two of the larger skimmers carrying a dozen helmeted warriors in each, landed nearby. Before the battle ready troops had a chance to disembark, Roark strode toward the vehicles, hands in the air.
“Peacekeeping.” He shouted the order. “Helmets off, weapons shouldered.”
“You heard him, you lazy assed scum suckers,” the sergeant yelled when he saw a fraction of a second’s hesitation. “His to command, yours to obey. Now, now, now!” he shouted. He yanked his own helmet off and attached it to his belt. “Take over, Sergeant Chuka, and quit eating their shit. They’re supposed to eat yours. All yours, First,” he added with a belated salute.
Roark issued his orders and then turned to glare at Sergeant Mohawk, but before he could question the warrior’s presence, the stocky soldier grinned.
“Since your request was personal-like. I thought I’d better deliver it myself. Never know who’s listening. She left about an hour after you did.” The old warrior shook his head and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I thought you had more stamina, First. I lost a packet on when she’d recover.”
Roark’s answer was a snarl. “Be careful, Sergeant.”
Mohawk laughed. “Yeah, because you might cut off my other leg and stick my fat ass behind a desk at the Local Craphole and Dungheap.” He winked and removed a small disk from the small opening at the front of his chest armor. “Address is programmed in. We gonna s
tand here shootin’ the shit or are we gonna go get our girl? She’s not far from the first tower that fell. I’ve got another skimmer headed there now. They’re awaiting orders, sir.”
“Ahnyis, Mason, to me,” Roark shouted as he headed back to the skitt they arrived in. He made no objection when Mohawk climbed in with them.
~*~
The building held. By the way the basement had filled with dust, Mira was sure it would be shaken from its foundation, but it held. With the exception of those few bricks on the roof, a few dishes that slid to the floor when the cabinet doors sprang open, and one cracked window, all was as it should be. Even the alarm clock that was found wedged beneath the sofa, was still keeping time.
The explosions were like nothing they’d felt before and the newness made them all the more frightening.
“What was it, Mira?”
The children relied on her to give them the answers as if knowing the whys and wherefores somehow made the terrifying world around them a little less frightening. If you knew what you were up against, and knew what to do in the face of it, you could handle anything. That’s what she told them, anyway.
“I think it’s something new they’re using to frighten us. Did you hear how it came before the crows flew in? They wanted us to run into the street when the buildings shook, but we all know it’s safer in the basement, right? You guys did great. You didn’t need Wynne or me to tell you what to do. Pillows, blankets, go-bags; you brought everything you needed. I’m proud of you.”
“Matty and I grabbed as much as we could of David’s stuff, too,” Royal offered in case she hadn’t noticed.
“And that was kind, but don’t ever waste a minute doing it,” she warned. “Your safety’s more important than David’s things.”
Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) Page 15
