Larkspur

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  Katy closed her eyes. When she opened them, Paddie sitting across from her, sound asleep. He wore his fuzzy, blue pirate-pajamas with feet. She felt better just looking at him.

  “Did you do that?” Katy asked.

  “You did,” Edie said.

  “Should we wake him?” Katy asked.

  “I think we should let him sleep,” Edie said. “You should sleep too.”

  “I thought you were going to teach me things,” Katy said.

  “You’ve just moved two things,” Edie said. “That’s enough to do for a while. When you get older, more used to doing it, you can do more. But right now, you should rest.”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to . . .” Katy started.

  Edie waved her wand, and Katy fell asleep.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” An angry man’s accented voice came from the room outside.

  There were sounds of scuffling.

  “Get off me!” the man with the accent yelled.

  “Fuck you,” a menacing voice said.

  The tiny fairy returned to her place by the door. She was not going to let anything happen to Katy—not on her watch—and from now on, her little student was on her watch. Edie nodded.

  She was ready to protect Katy and her Paddie.

  The other man grunted with his effort. One man fought for breath. There was a shuffle, followed by silence and death.

  Edie swallowed hard and raised her wand to the ready.

  Nothing happened. The man was too caught up in his own drama to think of Katy.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 11:00 p.m. MST

  Denver, Colorado

  “What’s going on?” a young man asked when he came into the lobby. The man in the wool slacks was crouching in front of Yvonne. He stood up the moment the young man spoke. “Where’s Rubén?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man in the wool slacks said. “Did you see him leave?”

  “No,” the young man said.

  “Weren’t you paying attention?” the man in the wool slacks asked. “Shit, you’re supposed to be watching. Are you and Sebastian watching the house or getting high?”

  “No, we’re watching.” The young man and Sebastian had been smoking bad seed—marijuana, heroin, and peyote. The young man didn’t respond. “No one came even close to this house.”

  He gestured out the door.

  “You’d better be right.” The man in the wool slacks didn’t disguise the threat in his voice.

  The young man pointed to the blood smear on the ground. “What happened here?”

  “No idea.” The man in the wool slacks shrugged.

  The young man squinted with disbelief.

  “You think I had something to do with it?” the man in the wool slacks asked. “I’ve been working to keep these folks asleep. When I looked up, Rubén was just gone.”

  “And this?” The young man pointed to the blood on the floor.

  “No idea,” the man in the wool slacks said. “It was here when we got here.”

  The young man raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. His eyes fell on Yvonne. Like the other men, lust rushed through him. He glanced at the man in the wool slacks. The man in wool slacks hadn’t missed his interest in Yvonne.

  “Why are you here?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  “I wanted to let you know the cleaning crew is here,” the young man said. “They had the code to the electric fence and keys to the house. They say they come every night at this time to clean up the main areas of the house.”

  “And you let them in?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  “This place is a wreck. The assault team made a mess,” the young man said. “I figured the cleaning crew could clean up, so we’ll have an easy getaway. Clean house, and they’ll never think we stole those boys. I brought them up, in case you wanted to see them.”

  “Where are they?” the man in the wool slacks asked.

  “In the hall,” the young man said.

  When the man in the wool slacks turned to leave, the young man took a step toward Yvonne. The man in the wool slacks pushed the young man out of the room. Once in the hallway, he took a look at the cleaning crew. There was a tall black man. He was powerfully built, but he looked like moron. He wore thick glasses and he reeked of stale beer and cigarettes. The man was vaguely moving an enormous string mop along the floor. A small Mexican woman was dusting with a rag, while a stooped, older black woman carried what looked like a heavy upright vacuum cleaner.

  “What’s your name?” the man in the wool slacks asked.

  “No sé,” the Mexican woman said. She gave him a dull look. “No habla.”

  “She don’ speak English,” the older black woman said in a heavy urban accent. “We don’ want no trouble. But if we don’ clean, we don’ get paid.”

  “We gots to get paid,” the tall black man said in a deep southern accent.

  “What’s your name, boy?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  “Lee-roy, sur,” the tall black man said.

  “Well, Leroy, there’s been some trouble here tonight,” the man in wool slacks said.

  “Yes, sur.” The tall black man’s voice had a dull, unintelligent tone that fed the man in wool slack’s sense of superiority. “We don’ want no trouble, no sur.”

  “There’s a mess right here,” the man in wool slack said.

  The tall black man moved into the waiting room with his mop.

  “Say . . .” the man in wool slacks said. “You. Mexican lady.”

  The woman looked up at him.

  “You have kids? Bambinos?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  “She gots fourteen kids,” the older black woman said. “I gots eight. You want some loving? Me and her, we can have some fun for not too much money.”

  The man was intoxicated by the beautiful Yvonne. This woman disgusted him. He sneered.

  “You like kids instead?” the older black woman asked.

  “There’s a pregnant woman in labor in here.” The man in wool slacks raised his voice as if he was talking to someone stupid. “You.”

  He pointed to the Mexican woman.

  “Qué?” The woman moved closer to him. Her eyes were blazing red and she reeked of marijuana. The man in wool slacks waved his hand in front of his face.

  “You deliver baby?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  “No sé.” The woman shrugged.

  “She don’ know what you talking about,” the older black woman said. “But I’sa birthed my little sister’s kids.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure,” the older black woman said. “We don’ have money for no doctor.”

  “Can you deliver twins?” the young man from outside asked.

  “I don’ see why not,” the older black woman said. “You care if the mother lives?”

  “Not particularly,” the man in wool slacks said.

  The older black woman nodded.

  “I don’ know, Jobolea,” Leroy said. “We gots to clean. Da boss’s gonna be mad if we don’.”

  “What you goin’ to give us?” the older black woman asked. “We taking a big risk.”

  “What do you want?” the man in wool slacks asked.

  The man in wool slacks whipped out his handgun. He took a step toward the tall black man.

  Bumpy threw a quick, hard punch into the man’s face. The man in wool slacks dropped to the ground. Bumpy took rope from his pocket and made quick work tying the man up.

  “Whaaaaa?” the young man started.

  Dionne bashed him over the head with the upright vacuum she was carrying. He crumpled. Camille stuffed her dust rag in his mouth. Bumpy threw Camille some rope, and she quickly tied up the young man.

  Bumpy ran into the waiting room, and began checking on people. Camille ran through the waiting room to where Jill was in labor.

  “She’s been given Pitocin,” Camille yelled.

  “I’ve got this,” Dionne said. “You
help Jill.”

  Bumpy nodded and jogged into the room. Dionne noticed that Yvonne’s top was unbuttoned. She buttoned her best friend’s blouse and woke her son.

  Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-seven

  In the pit

  Friday night — 11:00 p.m. MST

  Construction site near airport

  Rodney landed on his rear on a pile of mud in the bottom of the sink hole at the earthquake-shattered construction site. His landing jarred every bone in his body. He had to take a moment to get his bearings.

  It was very dark. On the opposite side of the pit, the methane fire glowed yellow and orange. The light from the helicopter shone on the military people, who were digging out their dirt-covered team member. He heard one of Jerry’s sharp whistles. He looked up to see what was happening. They must have found MJ and connected his safety rope to a wench. There was a low whine and MJ rose out of the mud in front of him. There was another sharp whistle and Colin was hauled out of the mud. MJ and Colin swung on their safety ropes until they were just above the upended construction trailer. Jerry and his team dropped them on top of the trailer. The military people cheered.

  Rodney groaned as he got to his feet.

  “For a tough man,” Abi said, “you complain a lot.”

  “Me? What did I say?”

  “In your head.” Abi pointed to her head and Rodney grinned.

  “Why am I . . .?”

  There was a whoosh and a whomp when something heavy dropped near him. Rodney instinctively moved toward the sound.

  “Wait!” Abi flew beside him. She held a headlamp out to him. “Put this on.”

  He grabbed the headlamp. In the circle of light, he saw something strange. He squinted.

  “Honey?” Rodney ran to her side. “What . . .?”

  “I know, right?” Honey shook her head. “Let’s throw the girl in the wheelchair into the mud pit. Damned fairies.”

  A bedraggled-looking pink fairy appeared next to Honey. The little fairy must have said something, because Honey laughed.

  “Never trust a fairy,” Honey said. “That’s what MJ’s dad used to say.”

  The fairy laughed so hard that even Rodney heard it.

  “That’s Mari,” Abi said. “She likes to harass people. She thinks it’s funny.”

  “She’s met her match in Honey,” Rodney said.

  Abi crossed her arms and nodded.

  “Any idea why we’re down here?” Honey asked.

  Rodney glanced at Abi. She pointed to the side of a trailer.

  “I think we’re here to help get people out,” Rodney said. “But don’t quote me.”

  “Why us?” Honey asked.

  “We’re tough?” Rodney raised his eyebrows to see if he was right. Abi smiled. “She needs a light.”

  A headlamp appeared on Honey’s head.

  “Can you move your chair through all this mud and muck and rubble?” Rodney asked.

  “Mari says I can,” Honey said. “But who knows?”

  Rodney smiled when he saw how offended her fairy acted. Abi pointed straight in front of them.

  “Abi says we need to go this way,” Rodney pointed.

  “Good as any,” Honey said.

  They started down the mound of mud. The landscape in front of them seemed like another planet. The vibrating earth had caused mud to pool in places and large boulders to appear out of nowhere. They moved as fast as they could, while the fairies flew next to their ears.

  “It’s like a video game,” Honey said, and ducked under a low beam.

  “Honey?” MJ leaned off the construction trailer so that he could see. “What . . .?”

  “Hey look, it’s MJ!”

  Honey pointed above where MJ was working. She waved.

  “What are you doing?” MJ asked.

  “I’ll explain everything later,” Honey said.

  “Rodney?” MJ asked.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Rodney said. “I swear it on my Yvonne.”

  “Get back to work.” Honey blew him a kiss. He gave her a worried nod and went back to work.

  “Up here!” Abi pointed up a mud hill near where MJ was working.

  “Over here!” Rodney yelled to Honey.

  Honey took off up the hill and Rodney had to run to catch up with her. He was halfway up the hill when he heard a tired voice say, “Help me.”

  “This way!” Rodney yelled.

  Rodney waved Honey to the left side of the hill. Near the top they found the old site manager for Lipson Construction. The mud had trapped him against the construction trailer.

  Honey and Rodney skidded to a stop. This man was despicable. When Jake, Aden, and Sam weren’t around, he would call the young men who worked for Rodney “monkeys.” He had regularly called Rodney “that gorilla” in site manager meetings and always implied that Honey only had a job there because she was Jacob’s lover. He’d blasted hate-filled talk radio on the job site even after Sam had ordered him to stop. It was no surprise that his child was cruel to Noelle. As if stuck into the mud, Rodney and Honey stared at the man.

  “You have to help him.” Abi flew in front of his face.

  “Why?” Rodney sneered.

  “Because that’s who you are,” Abi said.

  “He doesn’t deserve it,” Rodney whispered.

  He must have spoken loudly enough for Honey to hear, because she looked up at him.

  “He doesn’t,” Honey said. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t help him.”

  Rodney looked down at this little pixie of a woman in the big wheelchair.

  “You know I’m right,” Honey said. “But I won’t help him until we agree.”

  “Why would you help this man?” Rodney asked. “He told Jacob he should pull your health insurance when you were in the hospital the first time!”

  “I know,” Honey said. “But I’m not the kind of person who lets someone die just because they’re different from me. You’re not either.”

  Rodney looked at Honey for a long time before looking up the hill again.

  “If he were a stranger, would you help him?” Honey asked.

  “I would.”

  “A stranger could be just as reprehensible,” Honey said.

  A corner of Rodney’s mouth raised in a smile.

  “What?” Honey asked.

  “Just something Yvonne said while we were in Paris,” Rodney said. “She keeps pressuring me to forgive Alvin.”

  “Big task,” Honey said. “But you’re a big man.”

  Rodney’s head moved in a slight nod.

  “Ready?” Honey asked. He nodded.

  They went the rest of the way up the hill.

  “You’re a lucky man.” Rodney kneeled down next to the man.

  The man looked at Rodney and then at Honey. Honey slipped out of her chair to sit next to him.

  “Can you feel your feet?” Honey asked.

  The man shook his head. Honey grabbed his arm to check his pulse.

  “Are you bleeding?” Honey asked.

  The man was either ignoring her or dazed by his injury. When he didn’t respond, she looked at Mari.

  “He was halfway out of the window when one of those big earthquakes hit,” Mari said. “The glass in the window broke and sliced through his right leg. The pressure from the dirt is what’s keeping him alive.”

  “If we move you from where you are, you’ll easily bleed to death,” Honey said.

  “Don’t leave me here,” the man said.

  Honey looked up at Rodney. He nodded and turned to Abi.

  “I need a shovel, round-tipped, long-handled,” Rodney said.

  He held out his hand and the shovel appeared.

  “How’d you do that?” the man asked.

  “Gorilla magic,” Rodney said. He turned to Honey to ask, “You don’t happen to have medical supplies do you?”

  “Sure. Water, too.” Honey scooted back to her chair and grabbed her medical kit. “We’re going to have to treat you here.”


  Rodney watched Honey for a moment. He took a gallon water jug from her chair and poured some into a plastic cup that appeared in his hand out of nowhere. He helped the man drink.

  “I need a tourniquet,” Honey said. One appeared on top of the medical kit. She took anti-coagulant and pain killers out of her kit. “Ready?”

  She looked at Rodney and he nodded.

  “Here we go,” Honey said. “Wiggle your fingers the second you feel the pressure ease.”

  The man nodded, and Rodney started to dig. He made a quick and easy semi-circlular moat around the man and then carefully scooped the dirt closer to him. He wanted to leave enough dirt to keep the pressure on his wound, but not so much that they couldn’t get him out.

  “Give me a lift,” Honey said. “When he’s out, you know what to do?”

  Rodney nodded. He lifted Honey into her chair.

  “Rope,” Rodney said.

  A long stretch of bright red rope appeared in his hand. He dropped to his knees and wrapped the rope around the man’s chest, just under his shoulders, and tied it tight. He tied the other end of the rope onto Honey’s chair.

  “Try it,” Rodney said.

  Honey started her rugged mechanical chair. It moved an inch and was stuck. Rodney removed more mud and rocks from around the man.

  “Go,” Rodney said.

  Nothing happened.

  “We’re pretty close.” Rodney dug out another inch of dirt. “Okay, try it now.”

  Honey jerked forward, and the man slipped toward her. Rodney used his shovel to remove as much dirt as possible. Honey slowly pulled the man from the mud. Rodney ran to the man.

  “Where’s your injury?” Rodney asked.

  “Don’t touch me, you animal!” the man said.

  Abi dazed the man with a flash of light from her wand. Rodney looked up at her.

  “He’s gross,” Abi said.

  Rodney turned the man onto his left side and found his wound. The window had all but cut his leg off at the knee. Shaking his head, Rodney tied the tourniquet and applied the anti-coagulant. He was almost done when a National Guard medic dropped down from the wire.

  Rodney stepped back.

  “Great job!” Abi said.

  “But?”