Pushing Up Daisies

by Melanie Thompson

  “That’s Nasr,” Dimah said. “He’s my cousin.”

  Sarah sighed with relief. “Come on.” She lifted her hand and waved. “Nasr.”

  The young man turned and ran toward them. Sarah saw him speak into a phone. Was he calling House? Why did he have a phone?

  Nasr grabbed Dimah by the arm. “Why are your faces uncovered?” He demanded in a harsh voice. “You embarrass your family. You disgrace yourselves and me.”

  “The pirates took them,” she whimpered. “Nasr, you’re hurting my arm.

  Nasr grabbed Sarah. “And you, infidel bitch, where is your burqa? You’re practically naked.”

  Sarah shook off his grip and backed away. “What’s wrong with you, Nasr?”

  He snarled and grinned showing long canines. “Nothing. Everything is as it should be.”

  “I thought you were our friend.”

  He ignored her as a small helicopter swooped over the hill and circled. For a moment, Sarah thought they were saved, but it wasn’t a Company bird. When it landed, three heavily armed men wearing black robes and a black keffiyeh leaped out. Lights from the bird illuminated the men. Nasr grabbed her arm and pulled her toward them. “I have the woman,” he announced proudly.

  The men’s faces were covered with checkered scarves. Only their glittering black eyes were visible. Sarah struggled. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  Nasr gripped her arm hard and pinched it. “We are al Qaida.”

  Sarah gasped. Terror filled her as one of the men from the helicopter grabbed her arm and jerked her toward the chopper. Another of the al Qaida looked to an older man with a gray beard for orders. He pointed to Nasr. “Where is the man from Gray Thunder?”

  Nasr looked around. “He went after Omar.” Nasr pointed at his cousins. “What do we do with these two women?”

  “Leave them.”

  Nasr protested. “But they are my cousins.”

  The older man lifted his arm and waved. Immediately, Nasr was gunned down where he stood. Two shots were fired into him from six feet away. He dropped to the ground. Horror filled Sarah and she gasped but had no time to reflect.

  Omar, the pirate who had killed Daisy, arrived huffing with exertion. He grinned showing his gold tooth and leaped aboard the aircraft.

  Nasr lay in a crumpled heap on the ground in an ever-widening pool of blood. Sarah glanced back at the two girls once before she was jerked into the chopper and thrown to the floor on her face. Her hands were grabbed, held together and tied in front of her, this time with plastic ties. A filthy burlap bag was slipped over her head.

  The whine of the rotors increased and Sarah sobbed. This was either al Qaida or al Shebab. Who knew where they were taking her?

  * * * *

  House loped after the pirate who had killed Daisy. Skinny Mr. Goldtooth was fast, but when he was in his wolf form, a man on foot, alone without a weapon, was as good as dead. Lights suddenly erupted from behind a hill. He heard the familiar sound of helicopter blades. The chopper was not one of theirs. It landed and three members of al Qaida in their signature black robes leaped out. House was at least three miles away. He switched directions and started running toward the bird.

  As he ran, he saw Nasr get gunned down. He saw the pirate he’d been chasing show up and leap into the bird as the pilot pulled Sarah on board and the men in black robes followed her into the helicopter. He put on a burst of speed, determined to reach the bird before it took off. House was only fifty feet away when it lifted and took off toward the coast.

  Filled with determination, he put on a surge of speed, gathered his legs and leaped for the open door. His front paws grasped for the edge of the door. His claws scrabbled for purchase, but couldn’t hold on. He fell, landing hard on the rust-colored sand of the desert floor. He shifted, his heart bursting in his chest. “Sarah!” he called to the sky.

  The two girls huddled over Nasr who lay bleeding his life out on the ground. Beside him was the I-Phone and it was on. Nasr had called al Qaida. He’d been playing them all along. House crawled to him. “Shift,” he ordered Nasr.

  “Too hard,” the young man gasped.

  “Concentrate,” House growled. “You’re hurt, but not that badly. Shift you fuck.”

  Nasr closed his eyes. The air around him shimmered and his body began to contort. Because he was injured, it took longer for him to assume the form of a golden wolf, but he did it. When he was a wolf, the two bullets slowly emerged and fell to the dirt. The holes healed from the inside out and Nasr panted softly.

  “Shift back,” House ordered. “I got some pretty important questions and you need to answer them.”

  Chapter 17

  House wasn’t just mad, he was furious. Anger filled him to the point where all he could see was red. Oblivious to his nudity, he grabbed Nasr by the arm and jerked him to his feet. “You did this,” he snarled and jerked Nasr close. House could visualize Nasr dying right in front of his face. He wanted to kill him so badly his teeth ached with the need. He wanted to extinguish the light in Nasr’s eyes. “Where are they taking her?”

  Tears leaked down Nasr’s face and House threw him to the ground. “I don’t know,” Nasr whimpered. “They didn’t tell me. Please don’t kill me. I was supposed to go with them but they shot me.”

  House glanced around and saw the two girls. Their eyes bulged and their mouths hung open with shock and horror which was not being helped by his and Nasr’s nudity. “Find some fucking clothes,” he growled. “You’re scaring your cousins.”

  House found a pair of khakis big enough to fit but a little short. Snarling and growling, he pulled them on. Fuck the shirt. The wrecked Rover was fifty feet away. He strode towards it, cursing under his breath. He had to find out where they were taking Sarah because he would find her and save her if it took his last breath.

  Four men were still inside the Rover. He knew instantly three of them were dead. But one pirate was alive. The crushed front end of the vehicle had him pinned. He was struggling to free himself.

  The passenger door hung by one hinge. House snatched it off and threw it away. He grabbed the crushed dash and grunted as he forced it up. The pirate looked up at him with terror in his eyes. When House was able to bend the dash with only his hands, the pirate cringed in his seat. Fear filled his wide-opened eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” House said. “I’m a frigging nightmare and you’re about to find out just how bad I really am.”

  He yanked the pirate out by one arm. The man was very black, but his skin was a ghastly gray. One of his legs was broken in several places. House didn’t care. He laid the pirate on the ground and pointed to his leg. “You’re leg is badly broken. Without medical care, you will probably lose it,” he said with a scary smile.

  The pirate began a steady whine, saying over and over in Somali, “It was not my fault. Please help me.”

  House shook his head. “I don’t savvy Somali,” which was a lie. He leaned closer. “Now, I know most of you pirates speak perfect English. If you can’t speak English, you can’t help me. If you can’t help me, I’m gonna leave you here and let the scavengers get you.”

  The pirate closed his eyes. “Please help me,” he said in clear English with a slight Oxford accent.

  House nodded. “Knew you’d understand the gravity of the situation. So…where did they take the woman?”

  The Somali lifted his head so he could see his damaged limb and began to weep. “I don’t know, I swear I don’t.”

  House rested his big foot on the Somali’s broken leg. “Then you’re not useful to me, are you? And if you’re not useful, I think I’ll step on your leg. Just for the hell of it.”

  The Somali’s head dropped to the ground. He sighed. “They took her to Qandala.”

  “Where the fuck is that?”

  “It’s close to Boosaaso, just further down the coast toward the point. No roads go there from this side and the pirates own the town. There are boats. You understand.”

  “Wh
ere are the bodies of my men?”

  “Your Company recovered all but one.” The pirate grinned. “He’s still alive.”

  House ground his teeth in frustration and anger. “What about the two men from the U.N.?”

  “Al Qaida has them and your man. They are holding them for ransom.”

  House straightened and stared toward the north. “What are they asking for?”

  “You.”

  House was genuinely shocked. “Me, why me?”

  “You really don’t know?” The pirate groaned deeply and tried to move. His effort made him scream with pain. “Give me something for my pain and I will tell you.”

  House shrugged. “Sorry, we’re fresh out of morphine.”

  “In the Rover. There’s a med kit.”

  House ripped open the back door, shoved the dead body out of the way and found the medical kit in the rear compartment. He snapped it open and saw a prepared needle inside labeled morphine. He held it in front of the pirate’s eyes. “I’m not stupid. Once you get this, you’ll never tell me shit. Why do they want me?”

  “You are Gray Thunder’s number-one asset. Didn’t you know? Al Qaida has been hunting you for some time, ever since Afghanistan. They know who you are…and what you are. Now can I have my morphine?” He punctuated his request with a long moan.

  House yanked the smelly man’s shorts down six inches and stabbed the needle into his hip. “Enjoy, when this wears off, you’re screwed.”

  House glanced at Nasr. “You watch him. I‘m going after Sarah.”

  Nasr had garbed himself in a faded pair of jean shorts. His thin brown chest heaved with barely suppressed emotions. “You can’t leave me here.”

  House laughed. “Can and will. As soon as I find a clean phone, I’ll call for a pickup. Of course, it might take a while. And don’t even think they’ll find you by using my chip. I’m leaving so if they track me, it won’t help you.”

  “Come on, girls,” he said to the sisters. They cast one last look at Nasr and obediently followed House. They had to hike the three miles to the remaining Rover, the one that still functioned. When they got there, House put them in the back and started the motor. It cranked right up and he thanked British engineering under his breath as he slammed it into gear and took off with the wheels spinning.

  * * * *

  Sarah could hear the men talking in Farsi. They must not know she was fluent in that language. It also showed her they weren’t Somalis. From what she was hearing, they were from Yemen, just a stone’s throw across the Gulf of Aden from Somalia, and a hot bed of al Qaida insurgents.

  Her heart felt like a rock in her chest. They wanted House and planned to use her as a lure to get to him. The assholes didn’t know they’d almost had him inside their chopper. Apparently, they were unaware he was a werewolf.

  He would never give up trying to save her. He might die in the effort and she couldn’t stand the thought of being the cause of his death. With a sudden jolt, she realized she loved House. What wasn’t to love? He was strong, handsome, a fearsome warrior and tender lover. And she knew without a doubt that he would cross the earth from end to end until he found her and rescued her because he loved her. The ache of this knowledge was so strong she thought it might choke her.

  The men sitting around her began to discuss her. Apparently, they could see her legs and even higher. She fought the urge to cover herself. Then they would know she understood them. Never had she wanted to be wrapped in a burqa like she did right now. Men from this part of the world thought of women as being good for only one thing.

  She eased one of her bound hands into her pocket and found the snake. It warmed in her grip and a soft breath brushed her ear beneath the smelly burlap bag. Daisy was with her. “House will find you,” Daisy breathed into her ear.

  Sarah whispered her answer in English praying the men didn’t understand it. “Where is he?”

  “He’s driving across the desert with the two women.”

  Sarah nodded. House would never stop until her found her. But she didn’t even know where they were going and so far the men hadn’t mentioned it so how could he know? As she lay there listening and praying, she wished they would talk about their destination.

  They lit cigarettes and smoked. The cigarettes were Egyptian. Sarah recognized the harsh smell. Relaxing, they began to joke about the town they were heading to. There were no loose women and no Arab women, only disgusting, starving Somalis. Sarah’s heart rate increased. They weren’t going out of country…at least not yet.

  “Do we have to get on the boat?” One asked.

  The older man answered. By now, Sarah recognized his raspy voice. “You will do as you are told for the grace of Allah.”

  “The Somalis are filthy and live without honor,” the man said. “How can there be grace in starving your people? How can they even call themselves Muslims?”

  “Quiet, my son, they are new to the true faith. They will learn to follow the Quran even as we do. They kill the infidels. We can ask no more of them at this time.”

  “They do it only for profit. There is no honor in that. The town of Qandala is a hole of perversions and degradation. The stench of the fish and the filthy people fills my nostrils. Must we get on the boat with them?”

  Sarah ceased listening when she knew where they were headed. “Daisy, did you hear? Are you there?”

  Warm breath tickled her ear. “I hear but what can I do?”

  “Find House. Make him see you.”

  Daisy sighed. “I’ll find him, but he won’t see me. You’re the only one who can. I love you, Sarah. I’ll always be right beside you.”

  Tears leaked out of Sarah’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She brought both of her bound hands up and wiped the tears away. “He can’t follow me and help me if he doesn’t know where we are.”

  The men said something about House and she focused her attention back on them.

  “He will come for the woman,” the older man rasped and Sarah thought his voice wouldn’t sound like that if he stopped smoking. They’d all lit up again and the helicopter was filled with cigarette smoke. She coughed, choking on it.

  “We will rest for two nights in the fishing village and wait for him. Then we go home.”

  “How will he know where to find her?” One of the younger men asked.

  The older man sighed. “He is a very powerful man with secret abilities he acquired by selling his soul to the devil. We must kill him. He has killed many of our men in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He is a demon and he will find his woman. I have no doubt of it. Allah wills it and so it will be.”

  “You have to find House,” Sarah hissed into the smelly burlap covering her head. The man hadn’t said House was a werewolf, but al Qaida knew he was different and they wanted him.

  “They’re using you as bait.” Daisy’s voice was so close it was almost inside her head. Maybe it was inside her head. Sarah could no longer tell. “Once they acquire House, they will kill you, torture him and kill him.”

  “Then find him and warn him,” Sarah moaned. “Please, Daisy, try.”

  Daisy’s voice faded. “He’s a stupid, hard-headed dumbass who will never listen to me. But, okay, I’ll try.”

  * * * *

  House drove like the devil was yapping at his heels. He knew from the injured Somali’s vague directions he had to head northeast. His inner demon always knew where he was. As a wolf, his sense of direction was without equal. So he kept the Rover running northeast, hoping he hit the road he knew ran from the east coast and a shithole town called Hordio to Boosaaso with an offshoot, nothing more than a bumpy goat trail, heading to Qandala.

  When they hit the Boosaaso road, one he’d traveled several times, he knew to turn east and hunt for the cutoff road. As he searched, a faint glow lit the eastern horizon. It was almost light. He remembered many night ops where dawn had found him and his men holed up, hiding and waiting for night and a pickup. As he slowed to search for the road they needed, he felt
an itch close to his ear and something like a warm blast of air.

  He slapped at it with his hand never taking his eyes off the road. As the sun began to show an edge above the horizon, the annoying tickle in his left ear persisted and he heard a voice inside his head. He slowed and glanced around. The two girls were slumped against each other in the back seat sound asleep. The itching persisted and House grabbed his ear and rubbed it hard.

  “It’s me, House, Daisy,” he heard faintly. He turned the wheel abruptly, almost flipping the Rover. Where had the words come from? The voice claiming to be Daisy sounded like it was rising out of a deep hole.

  Fatigue and post-traumatic-stress disorder had him hallucinating. “Go away. Daisy’s dead,” he snarled.

  “No shit,” the voice barked back. “Listen to me, you hard-headed fuck. Sarah sent me.”

  Suddenly, House was believing. Sarah could see ghosts. She’d seen Gopher. It was the gold amulet idol thing she’d found. Maybe she really had sent Daisy.

  “Talk,” he growled.

  “They’re using Sarah as bait. They want you.”

  House shook his head like a large dog to clear it. “I know, Nasr told me, but I can’t imagine why, I’m just another merc.”

  “Afghanistan, Pakistan, everywhere you go you leave dead al Qaida behind. I guess they finally fucking noticed, dumbass.”

  It was Daisy. Only she had the balls to call him a dumbass.

  “What do I do?”

  “Save her. Sarah is all that matters. We both love her House. Find her and get her away from them. She’s scared, but stupid. She’s afraid for you. So here I am trying to get your thick-headed attention. I’ve been tickling your ear and yelling at you for an hour.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re headed for some stinking fishing village called Qandala. It’s somewhere on the coast. A boat is waiting to take them to Yemen if you fail to show. They want you, House. They plan to wait for a short time in the shithole village and then if you don’t put in an appearance, they’re gonna take her on the boat.”