by CJ Lyons
“Rashid?” Haddad twisted in his seat and reached for the radio. “Are you sure? Was he okay? Were Fatima and the baby with him?”
“He was alive and walking. Couldn’t tell much else. One guard with him. Carrying what looked like an AK-47.”
So Raziq was a prisoner. Still, Lucy couldn't shake her doubts about the man. Too many contradictions, too many coincidences—like Zapata targeting the hockey tournament where Mina's boyfriend was playing. No evidence, but enough to make her anxious.
“Taylor, send us a map of the zoo and mark exactly where that RV is. Keep an eye on it—if it moves, we need to know.” They could track Andre via his GPS while using the drone to watch Raziq.
Lucy hit the gas pedal. Maybe this plan wasn’t such a crapshoot after all. Maybe she really could save Mina and Badria’s family. The two girls deserved much more—like their killer caught—but it would be a start.
<><><>
MD, the guy with the gold on his teeth spelling out his initials, directed Morgan to the zoo’s employee entrance off Lake Drive. Two men stood guard. MD stuck his head out the window and they opened the gate. Morgan had never been to the zoo before. She hadn’t realized it was surrounded by forest—you’d never know you were in the middle of a city.
They passed through the gate. There were amber lights lining the narrow street. To their left was a large glass building with a wavy roof. The sounds of an elephant trumpeting drifted through MD’s open window.
His hand rubbed against her crotch and he asked her, not for the first time, “This how you like it, bitch?”
She’d decided that MD stood for Must Die.
Happy to oblige, bitch. In addition to the toys in her purse she had a wicked little switchblade hanging from a chain around her neck and another, larger one clipped to the small of her back. If good ole MD got any more friendly she might not wait until they arrived at their destination.
Andre had tried his best to distract MD, asking him questions, pointing to the fires in East Liberty, pretending to spot cops and telling MD to get down.
Morgan had been impressed by his volunteering to help Lucy—although she’d wondered if he had some kind of death wish. She’d also taken note of the bond he and Nick shared and had even been a little envious of the way he and his grandmother cared for each other.
But watching him trying so hard to protect her—especially as he was more than clueless about who or what she was—well, that was too precious for words.
She’d do her best to keep him alive, she decided.
She indulged herself in a little shiver of delight. It reminded her of that moment before she’d stepped in front of Nick’s car earlier tonight—that exhilarating feeling that anything was possible. This being a hero was kind of fun. Maybe Nick was right, there were better ways to channel her talents.
MD laughed, thinking her shudder was amorous in nature. Oh yeah, she just couldn’t wait to get up close and personal with him. Give her a few minutes and she’d have his heart in her hand. Literally.
They came to a crossroads. An Escalade was parked below a street sign. Lions and tigers and aquarium to the left. Bears to the right. And straight ahead the African Painted Dogs.
“We get out here,” MD announced.
Morgan gave a little shriek that she hoped sounded like she was terrified. In reality she was trying to decide which animal species would most enjoy snacking on MD’s heart.
Chapter 35
Andre got out of the Honda on the passenger side. He stood, blocking Mad Dog’s door, hoping the girl would take a hint and run. She turned the car off, took her time getting out, even grabbing her purse and carefully arranging it over her shoulder. Like they’d just arrived at a restaurant for a date or some shit.
Mad Dog shoved his door against Andre. Leaning his weight against Mad Dog, Andre looked over the hood of the car and met the girl’s eyes.
She winked at him. What the fuck?
Mad Dog pushed the door again, harder. Andre stumbled back. When he looked up, the girl had vanished into the shadows.
“Shit, where’d she go?” Mad Dog shouted. “Andre, you idiot.”
“No time for that,” Andre said. “I killed a fucking fed, man! We’ve got to find Darius and get the fuck out of here. Now.”
“Chill. Darius will take care of you. He’s right over there.” Mad Dog pointed past the Escalade down the path to a food stand lit up in the darkness. “Right across from the bears. Don’t fall in, let them eat you.”
“Aren’t you coming with?”
“Nah. Gotta a hot date with some white pussy.” Mad Dog hitched up his jeans and strolled toward the bushes surrounding the aquarium where the girl had disappeared.
Andre blew his breath out in frustration. The girl was gone, he had to focus on finding Fatima and the baby. He checked his watch. Working just fine. He jogged toward the food stand.
The bears were in pits to his right. They must have missed dinner because they made snuffly growling noises as he passed. He moved to the other side of the trail. Another elephant called out in the distance. At the end of the path, on the other side of the food stand, was a huge pyramid shaped glass building. The sign pointing to it said "Primate Habitat" and had pictures of monkeys and apes on it.
Andre had almost reached the food stand when he pulled up short. This side of the trail was lined by a chain link fence. Rustling came from the other side accompanied by strange high-pitched chirping. Like a dolphin’s song—only it was coming from the high grass and bushes.
The rustling grew louder. Andre scanned the darkness beyond the fence. Yellow eyes flicked in and out of sight. He started jogging again, passing a sign that read "African Painted Dogs" and had a picture of a dog with a long snout and large, saucer-like ears.
They didn’t look or sound like any dogs he’d ever met. Andre figured any dog that could survive the wilds of Africa probably wasn’t one he wanted to meet. He took another two steps towards the food stand when he heard another noise. Not the weird chirping dogs, not this time. This time the noise was distinctly man-made.
The sound of a shotgun shell being chambered. From behind him.
“Glad you could make it, Andre,” Darius said as two men flanked Andre. Darius still wore his fancy designer suit. Giselle trailed along behind him, but even in the faint yellow glow of the lights lining the path Andre could see she now sported a black eye and split lip. She cut him a sidelong gaze and he had the feeling he was somehow to blame for her beating.
Darius caught her looking at Andre and grabbed her wrist, yanking her almost off her heels. “What you looking at, bitch?”
Andre let Darius’ men pat him down. They didn’t bother with his watch.
“Where’s your mask?” Darius asked.
“Lost it.” Andre fought to remember to play his role. Hard to do when anger lit through him like a wildfire and all he wanted to do was haul off and plant Darius on his ass, give him a taste of a good old fashioned beat down. “I need your help. Mad Dog and me, we shot a Fed, killed them. They’re gonna be looking for us. He said you had a way out of the city without the cops knowing.”
Darius squinted at Andre as if deciding whether to trust him or not. Then he nodded. “Come with me.”
Andre and the guards followed Darius and Giselle the rest of the way towards the food stand. It was a small rectangular building. Wood siding and a metal roof covered with fake thatching, like it was supposed to be out of Africa or some bullshit like that. Round metal tables with attached benches surrounded the entrance.
At the table farthest from them sat Fatima, holding her baby close.
<><><>
Holy Trinity’s bell tower was square, open on four sides with a narrow catwalk around its perimeter. It was only three stories high, but since the church was on the top of the hill and faced down over the city, it felt much taller.
Walking its perimeter Nick felt like an ancient Centurion, guarding the Roman Empire. Silly, he knew, but he never would hav
e dreamed that he’d be standing in a tower, looking out over a city at war, holding a weapon, and responsible for the lives of over a dozen people.
Every day he listened to his patients recount their stories of their war—and he prided himself on not just empathizing with them but really seeing each story as a separate, unique, individual war. All of them woven together added up to nothing remotely like the fiction the media twisted “war” into, but it was the individual perspective he was most interested in. Each person’s private story of what being a soldier fighting for their country meant to them.
What a jackass he’d been, thinking he understood anything! And Lucy, God, she must think him an idiot. All those times he lectured her on being safe and not taking risks and putting her family first.
The gun, small as it was, was heavy in his hand. He'd tried carrying it in his pocket but it was too hard to pull out fast and too easy to accidentally slide his finger on the trigger. He didn’t dare let it go or put it down—what if he needed it and it was out of reach? What if he was looking in the wrong direction, missed the danger? What if something happened and he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to deal with it in time?
Every automatic thought and anxiety he taught his patients to conquer now held him hostage. He used all the techniques he knew, but under the pressure of adrenalin and responsibility they failed.
His nerves jangled with agitation, he felt at once on edge and drained, jittery and exhausted. Just holding on to all the paradoxes of emotion surging through him sapped his energy. But he couldn’t give in to fatigue. He had to stay alert.
He continued his endless pacing, cataloguing dangers.
East: new fires, several blocks away, accompanied by gunshots. There were cars now on the roads, weaving through the neighborhood. Gangstas on the prowl.
South: the fire at the Rippers’ clubhouse had spread to neighboring houses, both empty, the sisters had told him. Otherwise Ruby Avenue was quiet.
West: two large fires in East Liberty. Helicopters buzzing all over, their blinking red lights and the occasional high-powered spotlight breaking through the haze of smoke.
North: a large blaze where the Zone Five police station and fire department training center had been bombed. Rocket-propelled grenade—RPGs his patients called them. Helicopters circled the destruction.
His city was dying. And his wife was out there somewhere.
Footsteps sounded on the steps below him. He whirled, brought the gun up—and almost shot Sister Patrice. Nausea washed over him as he lowered the pistol. Forced himself to unclench his hand and set it on the wall. “I’m sorry, Sister.”
She smiled, forgiving him. Despite the long night, she still looked refreshed, her navy slacks sharply creased, white blouse crisp, navy veil falling in unwrinkled folds to her shoulder. He couldn’t tell her age; he often had that problem with nuns. Why was it priests always looked older than they were but nuns younger?
“I brought you a fresh thermos of coffee and some cinnamon buns straight from the oven.” Hell was breaking loose under their feet and the nuns were baking? No wonder Lucy had lost her faith. Or maybe that was a reason to keep the faith. More paradoxes his mind couldn't hold together.
“Thank you.” His voice had a tremor. Hard to talk when your teeth were clenched. He had a new appreciation for Lucy’s chronic TMJ symptoms. He had a feeling that after tonight he would see a lot of Lucy’s world in a different light. If only, please God, she made it back to him alive. See, there was that Faith again. Only maybe it was more like foxhole religion.
“Is there anything you need before we go out?” Patrice asked.
“No. I’m fine—wait, go where?”
She pointed to the east. “We got word there are families trapped in the Terraces.” The public housing a few blocks over. “Gangstas breaking in, terrorizing them, looking for Rippers and drugs.”
“You can’t go out there,” he protested.
“They don’t have a way out. We’ll pick them up in the van, bring them back here where they’ll be safe.”
“No, Sister. You can’t. You need—” He picked up the gun. It felt very small, no protection against what was going on out there. Better than nothing. “I’ll come along. Guard you.”
She shook her head as if chiding a child who’d gotten his catechism wrong. “No, Nick. You stay here. Bringing a gun will only make things worse.”
“But—no. You don’t understand. The Gangstas will kill you. You need protection.”
Her smile was both patient and forgiving. She said nothing, simply touched the cross around her neck, its plain silver glinting in the faint moonlight.
To think he’d once accused Lucy of magical thinking. Sister Patrice vanished down the steps as he stood, holding the gun, torn between racing after her and staying to watch over the people she was leaving behind.
Finally he ran after her, the gun clutched tighter than ever in his hand.
<><><>
No sign of Raziq or Zapata. Andre slowed his steps as they passed the tables. Darius looked back. “Hurry up.”
The two goons stayed at his side. He needed to help Fatima get out of here—but doing that meant sacrificing his chance to be extracted. Once he ditched the watch Lucy and her team would have no idea where he was—or their real targets, Raziq and Zapata.
Was he seriously going to blow the op to save the family of the man who’d massacred his men?
The watch was off his wrist and in his hand before he even had a chance to answer his own question.
Sorry guys, it’s the right thing to do, he thought as he turned one way, startling his guards and diverting their attention, while tossing the watch onto the grass in the other direction.
“Where are we going?” he asked to cover his movement.
He wasn’t really expecting an answer, wasn't even sure if it was worth continuing with the act. Darius looked back over his shoulder. “You were Dog Company in the Marines, right? That’s what they called you?”
What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Yeah. So?”
They came to a fork in the path in front of the large glass pyramid that was the Primate Habitat. Darius turned left.
“Then I guess you could say you’re going to a family reunion.” The smile he shot Andre revealed both rows of teeth. If you shook hands with a man smiling like that, you’d count all your fingers after. “Only you’re the main course.” Darius laughed. The sound would have been at home among the hyenas except Andre didn’t see any on display. Instead the nearest sign said African Painted Dogs.
"Cut the joking, Darius," Andre protested, staying in character even though he knew it was useless.
"No joke, Andre." Darius strolled down the path as his men prodded Andre with their guns, forcing him to follow.
“Dog meat” had been his drill sergeant’s favorite name for his recruits. Andre could only hope Lucy and her team got here before that became literal.
Chapter 36
Lucy and Nick had taken Megan to a special nighttime event at the zoo when they first moved to Pittsburgh. It’d been a fun way to see the animals—the darkness made walking among the wildlife feel exciting and exotic.
When she’d pulled up the map of the attacks on the city earlier, she’d noted the lack of activity surrounding Ruby Avenue but had totally discounted the huge swath of land bordering the Allegheny River where the zoo was located. She had to admit it was a brilliant strategy, using the zoo as a staging area. Low priority as a target of concern to law enforcement, no one would think twice about any activity at night, easy access to the river, major highways, and all parts of the city.
“Andre just drove in through an employee entrance,” Taylor reported. “They have guards on the gate, so I’m going to route you to a spot nearby where you can climb over the wall.”
“We’re not going to end up in the lions’ den, are we?” Jenna quipped, her voice high-strung and nervous. Gearing up for action.
“No. You’l
l be between the bears and the gate. So try to stay low and quiet.”
His directions took them off road and out of sight of the guards. Lucy parked the Tahoe alongside the eight-foot high concrete wall.
They hopped out, grabbed their weapons. “Raziq was spotted here, in front of the aquarium.” Lucy pointed to a spot on the map displayed on her phone. “Secure him, destroy their operations center, and then once you’re clear, join me. I’ll be following Andre’s signal.”
Haddad said nothing, just nodded. Jenna cleared her throat. “What if the mother and baby aren’t with Raziq? Should we keep looking for them before we take out the command center?”
Lucy had thought about that. No way was she giving up on Fatima and the baby—but she had a responsibility to Andre to keep him safe. And she had to consider the rest of the city. “No. Cutting their communications takes priority. That’s our best hope of stopping any further attacks they have planned. Last thing we need is a three-day siege like in Mumbai.”
Jenna nodded. She and Haddad climbed to the top of the Tahoe and then over the wall. Just as Lucy was getting ready to follow, Taylor broke radio silence.
“Lucy, I just lost Andre’s heart rate monitor,” he said in a breathless whisper. “That’s the panic signal, right?”
“Give me the coordinates.” Lucy hustled up onto the Tahoe and over the wall. If Andre’s watch stopped broadcasting, it meant he'd either found Fatima and the baby and was ready for them to come in… or he was dead.
<><><>
Jenna lay on her belly in the tall grass at the edge of the wide paved path leading around the zoo. David lay alongside her, scouting the RV with Lucy’s night vision monocular. “No guards on the outside. Lights on inside, but I can’t tell how many people are in there.”
“How do you want to work this?” She slung her AR-15 behind her and drew her SIG. The RV was too small for the rifle to be useful.
