by Night, H. T.
“Sarah-ee?” I asked, slowly.
“Yes, it’s Sarah with an ‘i’ at the end. It’s my middle name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“I don’t want to tell you. I hate it.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Yomaida.”
“Yomaida? I love that name.”
“I hate it.”
“It’s a beautiful name and that’s what I’m calling you. Yomaida,” I said. “I am getting you the hell out of here.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I want you to go into the bathroom and shut the door. I’ll be back here in about five minutes and we’re going to walk out of here.”
“How is that possible?”
“Just trust me.”
Yomaida looked terrified but she went into the bathroom anyway and closed the door. I guess she figured she had nothing to lose.
Game on.
I composed myself and stepped out of the room.
“That was quick. You still have 30 minutes,” the madam said. She was hanging around the door.
I smiled, “I’m thirsty.”
“There’s a bar down the hallway and to the left.”
“Thanks.” I walked down the hallway I went into the bar. Miguel, the guy who had made Yomaida’s life a living hell was still sitting at the bar drinking. There wasn’t anyone else in the bar, not even a bartender. I walked right up to that little fucker and looked that piece of shit in the face. He didn’t even bother to look up at me. I took a seat and sat right beside him.
“Hey there,” I said.
He finally looked up at me. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a thick accent.
“Sure can. You can leave.”
“Excuse me?”
“You speak English well, but your accent sucks.”
“It’s not an accent on this side of the border, gringo. I’d shut up if I were you.”
“But you’re not me and I like to talk. You want to know what I like to do more?”
He looked up at me.
“I like to kick motherfucker’s asses who take advantage of the less fortunate.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
I grabbed him by his head and threw it onto the table. I pressed down on his skull.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled out.
“I’m treating you like a little bitch. I want you to see how it feels to have someone make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“How do you even know me?”
“I know Yomaida, and guess what? She’s done working here and she’s done knowing you.” I pressed down on his skull, crushing it into the bar. He was very weak and he knew he was in some serious trouble with me. I looked around and there still wasn’t anyone in the bar.
“Easy man, I’m just making a living like everyone else.”
“Is that what you call what you do? Making a living?” I laughed out loud. “You make money on the backs of young girls you conned into thinking you were going to take care of them. Instead, you take what you want, and then you toss them to the curb and all they become is one of your providers.”
“I’m warning you, this isn’t the place for you to be a hero,” the man said and snapped his fingers while his head was still pinned to the bar. He was trying to get the attention of anyone outside.
“It’s always the place for a hero.” I let his head up off the bar and slapped him in the face.
“What are you doing?”
I slapped him again.
“You have any idea who I am?” he screamed at me.
He then yelled something in Spanish. I cocked my hand back and slapped him one more time as hard as I could, sending him flying into the wall.
The guy got up and brushed himself off. He was pissed and confused, but most of all he was the thing I wanted the most to see him; he was scared. “Fuck you, gringo!” He charged me and I let him get hold of me. I wanted to see how strong he was. He was weak, very weak. I grabbed him by his scrawny neck and threw him over the bar. He hit the back wall and crashed into all the bottles.
Then, as I expected, about ten guys made their way into the bar. Some had knives in their hands, but none had guns. I took my time as they came at me. Sometimes they came at me individually and sometimes in pairs. They were no match for someone of my skill level, and throw in the fact I had supernatural powers, this was a walk in the park even though there were ten of them. These weren’t vampires or werewolves; these were fat, overweight, humans. All it took was one or two punches and they were laid out unconscious. I spent about three minutes kicking the crap out of everyone in the bar until there was no one left to fight me. When all was said and done, the madam ran into the bar and looked at me. She was terrified.
“You better get out of here. The police are coming!” she yelled at me.
“Well,” I said. “If your police are anything like the ones in the U.S., I could still get a massage before they get here.” I went into the room and opened the bathroom door.
“Let’s go, Yomaida.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
I walked Yomaida out the front door. She peeked into the bar as we passed the room and did a double take at all the bodies lying on the ground. Before we reached the door, I passed the rich, gray-haired man. He didn’t seem at all shocked at what had just happened. He must have stayed back and just observed. He nodded his head at me, almost as if he approved of what I was doing.
Once we hit outside, I could hear sirens. “Okay, Yomaida,” I said. “This is the part you are really going to need to trust me.” I grabbed her around her petite waist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Like I said, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Then I flew up in the air holding Yomaida tightly. She only screamed a little bit at first, and then she was just taking it all in, a big smile on her face and stars in her eyes for me. It was your classic Superman and Lois Lane moment. She was scared and vulnerable and I had just saved the day.
Chapter Nine
“What is going on, Josiah?” she asked, holding me tightly as we flew across the sky.
“It’s exactly what I told you from the beginning. I told you I’d protect you.”
As I flew higher I could see terror spilled over Yomaida’s face. “Who are you? Are you sure you’re not an angel?”
“I’m something,” I laughed. “Just hold on tight, I’ll make sure your life is very safe.”
I flew above the clouds and headed north. I knew what I was doing was against the law, but so is human trafficking. Sometimes what is right is not necessarily the law of the land.
I flew across the sky, holding Yomaida close. After a while, she trusted what was happening and she seemed to be enjoying her flight. I decided to land us in Temecula, California. There is an isolated area over by Pechanga Casino and I knew we’d be okay. We landed off of Highway 79, near a wine vineyard.
After I safely landed, I led Yomaida to a bench in front of the Vineyard and we sat down.
“Are you okay?” I asked. She was pretty awestruck.
“I’m dreaming,” she said, closing her eyes.
“No, this is very real.”
“Josiah, who are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. Just know I’m going to bring you back to your family.”
“Really?” Yomaida still seemed shocked that I didn’t want anything from her.
“You’re going to see your parents real soon,” I said.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I have trusted the wrong people for so long.”
“You’re safe now.” She reached her hand over to mine and held it. She squeezed my hand hard and leaned her head into my chest.
“Why did you help me?” she asked.
“It’s a funny thing, I wasn’t planning on helping you tonigh
t, but once I saw you and then heard your story, I knew it was what I had to do. I needed to protect you from that place and especially that awful man you were with. I wanted to return you to your father. You deserve to be reunited with your family after all you’ve been through.”
Tears dripped from Yomaida’s eyes. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m going to see my father.”
“You can see him right now if you like. I could get you to Anaheim in about 10 minutes.”
“Would you?” she asked.
“There’s nothing more I want to do.”
“You are a good man.” Yomaida leaned in and kissed me gently on my lips. I touched her cheek and tenderly kissed her back on her forehead.
“Let’s go.”
“Right now?” she asked.
“Right now,” I confirmed.
I stood up and grabbed her by the waist once again and hoisted myself back into the air.
“How can you fly?” she asked as we ascended higher into the sky.
“Oh, you’d be amazed at all the things I can do.” I blazed through the sky and the cold morning air felt a bit chilled, but I was determined to quickly get her to Anaheim.
Within minutes, I could see Disneyland and Yomaida guided me to a house near Ball and Euclid Street.
She pointed to a bright yellow house at the west end of a cul-de-sac. “That is the one.” She began crying. “That is my home! That’s my dad’s black work truck out front and my mom’s white car! They still have the same cars!” she yelled out, with a celebratory glee.
We landed in the front yard.
We composed ourselves and Yomaida hugged me tightly “I’m nervous. I haven’t seen them in over a year.”
“Why didn’t you ever contact them from Mexico?” I asked.
“Miguel wouldn’t let me. He never left me alone or had any kind of telephone access.”
“Do they know you’re alive?”
“I don’t know. They must know something.”
Yomaida leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Sweet Josiah, you might not say you’re an angel, but you are my guardian angel.”
“I’m just a guy,” I said.
“You’re an amazing one at that.” She turned around and held her breath, then walked over to the door and knocked.
I watched from the driveway; I didn’t want her dad to think I had anything to do with her disappearance.
“Papa!” Yomaida yelled, as a burly, old Hispanic man wearing a white, wife beater tank top and boxers answered the door.
“Yomaida!” he flung the door opened and hugged his daughter. They were both crying and sobbing joyfully. Soon the whole house was up and made their way to the door. They were all speaking Spanish, so I had a hard time understanding.
Yomaida was talking to her father and then he stepped over and looked to where I was standing. He made his way over to me.
“Josiah,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“My daughter says you are kind and you helped her return. She said you never asked for anything in return. She says that you are a wonderful man. I want to thank you with all my heart for bringing her back to me.”
“It was my pleasure, sir. You have a very special daughter. Always protect her.”
“I will never let her leave the house alone again,” he laughed.
“For the meantime, that’s probably a good idea.”
“You are always welcome in my home. Please come back soon so we can celebrate.”
“I’d like that, sir.”
“Where is your car!” he asked looking down the street.
“I don’t have one.”
“You two walked?”
“You can say that.” Cloud walking.
Yomaida walked over to us and hugged me tightly. She was a beautiful woman and now she was home.
“Come back to me, Josiah. I know you need to do whatever you do. But, come back and see me.”
I kissed her cheek and said, “Goodbye, Yomaida. It was a pleasure meeting you.” I turned around and walked down the street.
“Son!” Yomaida’s father yelled to me.
I turned around and Yomaida’s father kissed his fist and raised it up in celebratory fashion and I returned the gesture.
Son? It’s been a long time since I’d been called son. Yeah, I would definitely be coming back.
Chapter Ten
I went around the corner and when the coast was clear, I flew up into the sky and made my way back to Tijuana. I felt good about how everything went down tonight.
I needed to get back to the hotel room before the sun came up. I arrived at Hotel Ticuan and made my way up to see Wyatt and get some rest.
I knocked on the door.
“What’s the password?” Wyatt joked, from inside the room.
“Carni are worthless dogs,” I said, as exhausted as I had felt in some time.
“That works for me,” Wyatt laughed. He opened the door and I saw that he had sun-proofed the room pretty well with some duct tape and cardboard.”
“Where did you get the cardboard?”
“Where else? There is a Dumpster outside.”
“What have you been doing all night?” I asked.
“Watching soccer. It seems to be what they like to watch around here.”
“I think I read somewhere,” I said, sarcastically, “that the Mexican people are pretty fond of the sport.”
“What about you?” Wyatt asked.
“What about me?” I asked.
“Did you save the girl?”
“Don’t I always?” I winked and laid on the bed.
“Yes, you do. You definitely have the biggest hero complex of anyone I ever met.”
“I just do what’s right.”
“You and Spiderman.”
“Spiderman has nothing on me. What’s his super power? Spinning a web?”
“As I recall, he’s a pretty good fighter,” Wyatt said.
“I can kick Spiderman’s ass any day of the week.” I said, with certainty.
“I wouldn’t doubt you could, Josiah. Hey, that guy from last night said he’d meet us around midnight. Hopefully, he found her.”
“He did seem to have an idea of who we were talking about.”
I leaned back on the bed and, I had to admit, the bed was pretty damn comfortable. Within minutes, I was out.
I slept a good nine hours, as did Wyatt. The room was pitch-black all day and we turned on the air conditioner. I was awakened by a knock on the door. I popped up and looked through the peephole.
Dammit, it was the gray-haired fellow from the limo. How the hell did he know where I was staying?
I looked through the peephole to see if I could see police with him, but as far as I could tell, he was alone. “May I help you?” I asked, from behind the door. I spoke with a weird accent that was a cross between Irish and Arabic.
“Pardon me, sir,” the man said. “May I speak with the young blond gentleman?”
Shit, he knows I’m in the room.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“A friend.”
“A friend? I don’t know you.”
“I promise you, all I want to do is talk. I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition? I don’t need any propositions!” I yelled from behind the door.
“I have the answers you are looking for.”
How the hell did he know what I was looking for?
“Like?” I asked.
“I know how to find the Deity,” he said, in a calm manner.
Now I was listening. I opened the door. I looked at the man and he was alone. I looked behind him and saw that there was no one in the hall.
“There’s my man,” he said, excited to see me.
“Who are you?” I asked. “For the record, I’m not comfortable being anybody’s man. How can I help you?”
“Actually, it’s how we can help each other. I would like to speak to you, but not here.”
&nb
sp; “Where then?”
“There’s a conference room downstairs we can go to. We’ll have more privacy.”
I looked back in the room and Wyatt was still out like a light. “Okay, let’s go.”
I followed the man downstairs and he seemed very familiar with the hotel. We took the elevator down and as far as I could tell, he was Tandra. I tried to read his mind, but it sounded like he was only thinking in Spanish, so I had no idea what he was thinking.
“What is your name?” I asked, as the man led me into the conference room. The conference room had a couple of top-of-the-line desks in each corner and a long gorgeous conference table in the middle of the room.
“My name is Romero.” He pulled out a seat for me to sit down. I decided to trust his hospitality and I sat down. Unless he had a silver nail in his pocket there was no way this fifty-ish man could take me, even if I wasn’t a vampire.
He sat down next to me. “Do you like money, Josiah?”
“How do you know my name?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t like surprises and I had a feeling this guy was going to be full of them.
“I know lots of things, but if you could oblige me, would you answer the question?”
“Who doesn’t? But I’m not into the crime business.”
“Crime business?” Romero laughed. “You have this all wrong. Let me ask you another question. Do you miss competition?”
“You mean fighting?”
“Yes.”
“Not really; believe it or not, I’ve been okay in that department.” It seemed like all I’d been doing was fighting ever since I left mixed martial arts. “Okay, you know my name and you know I used to be a fighter.”
“And I know you’re a vampire.”
I stood up. I was right. This guy was full of surprises.
“Please sit down. I’m not here to blackmail you or challenge you. I want to tell you who I am.”
Like I said, I didn’t like surprises, and this guy seemed to be getting off telling me all he knows about me. I’ve seen enough to know when someone wants something from me. This guy was ready to sell me on something. “What do you want, Romero?”
“I think you and I can be very successful together.”
“How so?”
“Josiah, I run the most lucrative, underground, paranormal, supreme fighting league ever organized.”
