The Darwin Sacrifice: A Thriller (The Last Peak Book 3)

by William Oday

“Don’t worry, babe,” the deeper voice of Miro replied. “It’s gonna be fine.”

  Beth grinned at Noor. “Sounds like dinner might not be so yummy.”

  “Smells like a fire at a trash dump,” Noor said as she wrinkled her button nose.

  “I heard that!” Iridia yelled from the kitchen.

  “Don’t pay them any mind,” Miro said. “Trust me. It won’t be the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  Beth winced. She knew it was intended to be reassuring but the delivery left a little something to be desired.

  “I knew it! It is terrible! I’m good for nothing!”

  “No, babe. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Out!” Iridia screamed. “Go set the table! Maybe you can do something that doesn’t require words.”

  Miro appeared through the kitchen doorway a few seconds later with bowls and spoons in his arms. He silently made a face warning everyone to be careful. He set about arranging places at the table.

  Beth turned back to Noor. “Where’s Theresa?”

  Footsteps ascended the stairs from the ground floor.

  “What is that God awful stench?” Theresa said as she arrived at the top of the stairs. She glanced over and saw Beth. “Hey, mom.”

  Beth’s eyebrows arched involuntarily. That’s all she got? A Hey, mom? Theresa was fifteen going on twenty-two. “I don’t know what family you were raised in, but this mama gets a hug from her baby girl.”

  “Mother,” Theresa said with a pained look on her face, “I’m not a baby girl and haven’t been for over a decade.”

  “I hear words, but I don’t feel hugs.”

  Theresa marched over as like it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. She leaned into Beth letting her arms hang like wet noodles.

  Beth wrapped her in a hug and squeezed. She’d take what she could get. Who knew how much longer Theresa would be living in their house and available for hugs? She swiped Theresa’s hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “You’ll always be my baby girl.”

  Theresa gagged. “Mom, Elio’s here. Please.”

  “Hi, Mrs. West,” Elio waved at her from across the room. “Theresa invited me over for dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

  Beth waved him over. “Less words. More hugs.”

  He gave her a quick hug, though with the expected feeling that Theresa’s more pathetic version lacked.

  “And if you call me Mrs. West again,” Beth lowered her voice, “I’ll make sure you eat two portions tonight.”

  Elio grimaced.

  “It’s time to eat,” Iridia called from the kitchen. “I hope everybody is hungry because I made a lot.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  They all sat around the table waiting anxiously for dinner to be served. Usually that would mean looking forward to the experience, but not in this case. Beth sat at one end of the rectangle table with Theresa and Elio to her left and Noor and Iridia’s empty place opposite. Miro sat at the other end because Mason wasn’t going to make it for dinner tonight.

  Lucky him.

  Iridia shuffled out of the kitchen carrying a large stock pot with towels wrapped around the handles. Steam drifted into the air and swirled across her face. An overpowering odor preceded her. She set the pot down on a hot pad and dipped a ladle inside.

  “Tonight, we are having borscht. It’s a customary Ukrainian recipe. This one is from a recipe that’s been in my family for generations. My mother always made it when I was young.”

  Why would a family punish so many generations like that?

  “Miro, would you please serve everyone while I get the bread?”

  Miro jumped out of his seat nodding in enthusiasm. “Sure, babe!”

  Iridia retreated to the kitchen to retrieve what was likely going to be the only thing any of them would find edible.

  Miro reached for Theresa’s bowl but she cut him off holding her hands above the bowl and shaking her head. Miro glanced at Beth with a silent plea in his eyes.

  “Theresa!” Beth whisper-shouted.

  Her daughter relented and allowed Miro to pick up the bowl. She held her hand up with her thumb and pointer finger an inch apart. She mouthed An inch.

  He ladled in a good four inches and passed the bowl back. He shrugged apologetically.

  Before anyone else could try their luck with the personal volume request, Iridia reappeared with a serving platter of dinner rolls. Rather, they may have once been identified as dinner rolls. Now, they looked more like briquettes of coal ready for a summer barbecue.

  So much for the one thing that might’ve been edible.

  Iridia set the platter next to the pot of borscht and took her seat. “Sorry, I was so focused on the main dish I burned the bread a little.”

  Elio picked up one of the hard black bricks and tapped it on his dish with a clanging sound. He nodded. “Only a little,” he said with a smirk.

  “I can’t wait to dig in,” Miro cut in before any fireworks went off. He dished out a portion for everyone and then filled his own bowl to the brim.

  He had a big, dumb heart.

  “Iridia,” Beth said, “I’d like to thank you for going to the trouble of making dinner.” She let her gaze circle around the table falling on each person individually. “And I know all of us feel the same way.”

  Half a smile curled up on Iridia’s face. “You’re welcome.”

  Beth grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the thick blood red broth. She stirred it around and a black irregular chunk of something floated up. Her stomach squirmed in protest but unfortunately it wasn’t going to get a vote.

  While the rest of them pushed the soup around delaying the inevitable, Miro took the first bite. Iridia stared at him intently. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips tightly together. The muscles in his jaws flickered as he gnawed on something. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. He stared intently forward while he took a long drink of water. Finally, he turned to Iridia and smiled. “That’s some delicious home cooking, babe. Eat up, y’all!”

  She grinned like a child finding a giant gift next to the Christmas tree.

  The rest of dinner was a brutal exercise in feigned enthusiasm and swallowed disgust. While everyone added their praise for Iridia’s efforts, the grimace she made every time she took a bite herself made it clear that either this old recipe should’ve been killed off eons ago or else Iridia’s translation of it left out all the important consonants and vowels.

  The best thing about dinner was that it was short.

  Each person powered through as many horrific spoonfuls as they could stomach. They each begged off finishing their bowls saying they were stuffed or had a big lunch or really wanted to save enough for tomorrow.

  Through willful ignorance or otherwise, Iridia appeared to believe the soup was a hit. Miro helped the misconception by enthusiastically finishing three full bowls.

  Beth already had plenty of reasons to hold Miro in high regard, not the least of which was his having saved her husband in Iraq. But this show of devotion made her appreciate him on a whole new level. The flirtatious relationship between he and Iridia over the last two months had blossomed into something deeper.

  They were in love.

  Mason wouldn’t have said it was possible in that short a span of time, but Beth knew better.

  Love could happen at any time to anyone. It could appear in a second and last forever.

  And Miro’s love and support was something Iridia needed more than ever.

  Iridia stood up and grabbed the ladle. “Anyone want more before I put it away?”

  Miro jumped up and took the ladle from her and dropped it back into the pot. “We’re all stuffed, babe.” He picked up the pot in one hand and squeezed her butt with the other as he headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll have more of that later.”

  She giggled and slapped his arm away.

  Theresa sighed loud enough that the neighbors could hear. “Seriously guys? It’s bad enough my innocent mind has to see that kind
of stuff with my parents.” She looked around the ceiling theatrically. “Can we cut down the giant mistletoe hanging over our house already?”

  Elio grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “What’s wrong with mistletoe?”

  Beth laughed, knowing he would’ve never been so bold with Mason present. But Elio knew she had a warmer view of his courting their daughter. It wasn’t that Mason didn’t like Elio. He did. It was more that no one should be dating their daughter.

  Her husband would come around. Eventually.

  Cleaning up afterwards went uncharacteristically smooth. There were no complaints or leading questions about who had done what last. Everyone was just relieved to not be facing down another spoonful of borscht.

  After it was finished, Miro looked at his watch. “It’s way passed curfew. Elio, I’ll walk you home.”

  Elio waved him off. “I’ll be fine. No police patrol is going to catch me.”

  Miro’s expression turned serious. “After what happened last night, it’s not the patrols I’m worried about.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Beth said before Elio could respond. There was no way she was going to let Elio walk home alone in the dark.

  The two boys gathered their things and headed toward the door a few minutes later.

  A heinous hiss followed by an excited chirp echoed down the stairs from the second floor.

  ”Leave Mr. Piddles alone!” Iridia yelled.

  Clyde was engaged in his favorite past time — pestering their cat, Mr. Piddles. Beth was about to run upstairs to save Mr. Piddles when she heard Noor’s sweet giggle interrupt the hissing and the chirping. Noor had become a peace keeper between the youthful chimp and the elderly feline.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Theresa said as she followed Elio to the front door. They stepped outside and Miro and Iridia followed. The front door hadn’t closed before Beth was scurrying over to the front window with a view to the street, and more importantly, to the front porch.

  Somehow, in the mixup of walking outside and turning toward each other, Elio was standing in front of Iridia and Miro was standing in front of Theresa. They all looked at each other awkwardly for a second and then tried to move at once.

  Which ended up with everyone bumping into each other in the middle. They laughed nervously and then the two boys switched places.

  Beth chuckled, careful to cover her mouth to muffle the sound.

  Elio stood with his hands shoved in his pants pockets. He glanced up at Miro at his side and said something. Miro laughed and punched his shoulder.

  They each turned back to the woman in front of them. And Beth had to acknowledge her daughter had become a young woman. Like a synchronized swimming routine, the boys leaned forward and kissed their prospective partners.

  Adorable.

  Hilarious and awkward. But adorable, too.

  Young love.

  Beth prayed they had a future.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THERESA WEST slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to lock her bedroom door. The only sounds in the house were the occasional creak or knock that all old houses made. Tito used to say it was a house telling its story and that, if you listened just right, you could know everything that had ever happened inside its walls. When she was younger, she used to stay up for hours at night trying to decode the language.

  She didn’t believe the story anymore. And anyway, she didn’t want to know all the stories a house might tell these days.

  Everyone had been asleep for hours. Everyone except her dad who hadn’t gotten home yet. She’d drifted off a couple of times despite the bubbling anticipation in her belly.

  In the dim light leaking under the door from the hallway, she changed out of her pajamas and into an all black outfit. She pulled on a coat of the same color and zipped it up tight.

  It was the height of summer and the city was still too cold at night for her comfort. Too cold most days, too. She shivered. Fifteen years in sunny Southern California called to her like they were an airplane ride away.

  But they weren’t.

  The convenience of an airplane no longer existed. Not for regular people, at least. The few who got access to that kind of thing were like her father—close to the president and on official business. Her days in the SoCal sun and warmth were long gone, and she doubted they would ever come back again.

  So, extra layers would have to do. She wrapped a black scarf around her neck. She grabbed the toothpaste tube from her desk and squirted a dollop into her mouth.

  She was not going to go out with borscht breath.

  The minty aroma overpowered the lingering funk that two rounds of teeth brushing hadn’t completely washed away.

  Theresa swished it around and then jumped when there was a tap at the window.

  She hurried over and eased it open. “Shhhhh! Are you trying to wake the neighbors?”

  Elio extended his hand and helped her climb up and out the window. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was gonna be so loud.” He pulled her close and kissed her lips.

  Theresa’s toes tingled and her heart thumped in her chest. After a long kiss that left her breathless, their lips popped softly as he pulled back. She was feeling warmer already. “I accept your apology.”

  He grinned. “That’s what I wanted to do earlier on the porch.”

  Warmth spread from her chest into her belly. “Then, you should have.”

  Elio arched an eyebrow at her. “Not with those two standing right next to us. Besides, guaranteed your mom was spying out the front window.”

  Theresa leaned forward and pecked his cheek. “It’s not my mom you have to worry about.”

  Elio shook his head. “Tell me about it. I figured your dad would cut me some slack considering all the history between us. Yeah, right. I’m not even sure if all the effort is worth it.”

  Theresa pulled back and her eyes narrowed. “I’m not worth it? This relationship is not worth it?”

  How dare he say that?

  The warmth inside her turned into a boil. She started to back away but he grabbed her hands and held on.

  “No,” he said.

  Theresa’s eyes opened wide. “No?”

  Elio’s eyes opened wide in turn. Fear showed in them. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, no, about your getting your dad’s approval, not no, you’re not worth it.” He pulled her back into the warmth of his embrace. “You’re worth everything I could give and more.”

  The anger rising in her chest submerged into the love squirming in her belly. She nestled into his arms. “Did you know you say the sweetest things, Elio Lopez?”

  She stared into his warm brown eyes feeling more alive than ever.

  He grinned in that way that always melted her insides. “I try.”

  Theresa closed her eyes and softly puckered her lips waiting for him to close the distance and so remove the agonizing space between them.

  She waited.

  Instead of kissing her lips, he jerked her back into the shadows between her house and the one next door. He held a finger up to his lips telling her to stay quiet. He pointed around the corner.

  A few seconds later, a curfew patrol appeared walking down the middle of the street. The new Police Chief strutted at the front of the pack. A white bandage covered his lower lip.

  Pebbles under her foot shifted throwing her off balance. She threw her foot to the side to stay upright. Her shoe dragged the pebbles across the concrete, scraping loudly as they went.

  The chief and the six cops following him stopped. All of them turned toward the dark alley where she and Elio were hiding.

  Not good.

  They’d be in deep crap if they got caught outside after curfew.

  “Come on,” Elio whispered in her ear. He squeezed her hand and they took off deeper into the alley.

  “Hey! Who is that?”

  A beam of light pierced the darkness just as they got to the corner and took a right. “Stop! Chief Fowler orders you to stop!”

  A fe
w more turns and they left their pursuers behind. They kept running for a while until Theresa called for a break. “Hold up a second,” she said grabbing her knees and huffing air. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

  Elio helped her up and nodded. “We’re almost there. We can walk the last couple of blocks.” He led her out of an alley and across a wide street, circling around the broad patches of light cast by the streetlights and sticking to the darkness beyond their reach. Another few minutes and they stopped in front of a dented metal door in an otherwise featureless brick wall.

  “Is this the place?” Theresa asked.

  “I think so.” He tapped the door.

  “Not so loud!” she whispered. In the still night air, the door sounded like a clanging gong. They waited a moment and nothing happened. Elio tapped again, this time quieter.

  “Maybe this isn’t—”

  A small rectangle in the door slid open and dark eyes peered out. The eyes scanned each of them.

  “Where can I find the railroad?” A husky voice said from inside the door.

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Where it was and where it will be again,” Elio replied. “Underground.”

  The rectangle slammed shut.

  Theresa turned to Elio. “Was that like a code or something?”

  He nodded.

  She turned back to the door. Nothing happened. “Doesn’t look like you said it right.”

  A series of locks clicked and the door squeaked open on rusty hinges. The gruff voice floated out from the darkness within.

  “Enter.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  They followed a muscular man with long dreadlocks. His flashlight swept across what used to be a commercial kitchen and a storeroom. The shelves were bare, the counters empty. He led them out into a large room filled with people. This place used to be some kind of bar. Probably just like one of the places she and Holly had tried faking their way into in Los Angeles. It never once worked. The bouncer would eye Holly’s curves and wave her in. Then, he’d spot Theresa shuffling along behind.

  And that’s when the charade would end.