Rescuing Carmen, page 35
“Can I share that with them?” I have no idea how Guardian HRS works, and much less about what The Facility can do.
“Yes. They’ll take comfort in hearing it from you.”
With Rafe’s support, I take to the aisle again. I stop at each row, ask the woman her name, and reassure her she’s been rescued.
I recite each name in my head until I have all their names memorized. I hold hands. Give hugs. Answer what questions I can. Rafe supplies answers to the questions I can’t answer, and I translate for the women.
At first, the women shy away from him, but by the time we reach the airport, the very beginnings of hesitant smiles and brighter eyes flit across their faces.
Excitement between the women grows as the reality of their rescue sets in. Some still can’t believe it’s true. Some are too traumatized to react. When we drive up to the plane, their excitement grows until it’s a palpable thing.
“Carmen,” Rafe tugs on my arm.
“Yes?”
“Tell the women what comes next.” He briefs me on how they’ll board the plane, the questions they’ll be asked, and the brief medical exams they’ll undergo—if willing.
Nothing is forced on any of them.
My heart swells with joy as I witness the transformation of the women from the empty husks that boarded the bus to joyous women who eagerly climb out of the bus and board the plane.
As we speak the same language, I become the de-facto interpreter between the women and the Guardian medical team and guide each woman through the initial intake process.
But there’s still no sign of Rosalie.
The women eye the first-class seats hesitantly, not sure if they’re permitted such a luxury. The medical team takes over, relieving me of my assumed duties. I go to the front of the plane where Mitzy sits with CJ staring at a screen.
“Any word?” I’ve asked no less than a dozen times. Each time, Mitzy gives a sharp shake of her head.
“None.” Mitzy glances at CJ. “We’re going to have to call it soon. We can’t sit on here with these women. All it takes is one phone call.”
I lean against the bulkhead and scan the banks of computer screens. Numbers flash across one screen. A map fills another, dotted with several different colors. There are several other screens I give barely any attention to as I listen in on Mitzy and CJ’s conversation. One catches my eye. Tucked in the far corner, it looks like there’s a chess enthusiast on board. For some reason, that makes me smile.
Guardian HRS is a formidable organization, but seeing those series of chess moves reminds me these people are human. Not particularly good at chess from the string of moves on the screen, but an enthusiast of the game.
“What about your drones?” CJ scratches the back of his neck. His lips twist as if he doesn’t like the sour taste in his mouth.
“Only one went with them. It’s not reporting.”
“Shit.” CJ pulls at his chin. He turns to me and gestures for me to take a seat next to him. “Do you know what this is?”
I look at the screen and nod. “It’s a map of the area around my home.” I recognize the walled complex that’s been my prison, as well as the surrounding jungle I used to play inside when I was just a kid.
“Brady, Booker, and Hayes went after Matias,” CJ explains. “Last report, we have them here.” He points at a white dot on the screen, but the way he looks at me says there’s more buried in the subtext he doesn’t say.
But I know.
“Matias has Rosalie.”
CJ nods.
A wave of nausea comes over me. I grab the nearest chair for support as the floor drops out from beneath me.
“What are these?” My voice shakes, because I know. About twenty dots in red converge around the tiny white dot CJ pointed to.
“Those are your father’s men.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and look at CJ. “What do we do?”
Three men against how many? A dozen? More? I don’t dare count, but I can’t help myself. A little over two dozen men pursue of the rest of Bravo team.
“We make a decision.” CJ glances over his shoulder. “Your father and Artemus escaped. Matias as well, although he’s not with your father.”
“But Rosalie…”
“Carmen…” He places a hand over mine. “If we don’t leave soon, your father will close this airport. We’ll be grounded. We lose the advantage we’ve gained tonight.” Again, he looks over his shoulder at the women who survived hell and are witnessing a miracle.
How can I take that from them?
How can I abandon Rosalie?
Forty-Five
Carmen
How do I choose between the women we saved and Rosalie? It’s impossible, and while I won’t make the final choice, CJ wants to hear my thoughts.
A voice speaks in my head. A voice I haven’t heard in a very long time. It’s not Lucinda. For the first time since her death, my mother speaks to me.
May God’s grace protect those in need.
My heart feels as if it’s being ripped in two. I rub at my nose and swipe at my tears. I can’t. It’s impossible to choose, but a choice must be made.
I know this.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. With a heavy heart and tears welling in my eyes, I swallow the lump in my throat and speak.
“We have to go.” My throat closes up on the words.
“Yes.” CJ squeezes my hand. “Have faith in the Guardians. They will bring Rosalie home.”
I stagger backward and find Rafe’s arms folding around me. CJ looks to Rafe and they exchange words without speaking. A signal is given because the door to the jet closes, and the engines whine as they spin up.
People move up and down the aisles, checking that the women are strapped in. Rafe pulls me to the back of the plane, where I collapse in his arms.
“We saved everyone, but Rosalie.” A blubbering mess, my words are nearly incoherent. Nevertheless, Rafe seems to understand. He holds me through takeoff while I weep in his arms.
Later, someone touches my arm.
“Carmen?” I blink and stare into the kindest face I’ve ever known. Doc Summers, Skye, looks down at me with a serene smile. “We could use some help, if you’re feeling up for it.”
“Help?”
“Yes. We’ve got fourteen women to process. You were so kind and comforting to them. I was wondering if you could help.”
“What do you need?” Listlessness fills me, but I can help these women. It’s a moral imperative that I do what I can for them.
“We have two full-sized lavatories in back,” Skye says. “If you could take them back, two at a time, so they can get cleaned up?”
“What about clothes? And…” I glance around the cabin. “They need shampoo, combs, brushes, and…”
“All taken care of, and Carmen…” She places a hand on my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“You’re going to be surprised by what happens. It’s magical.” Her words make no sense.
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Take two of the women to the lavatories. Show them how to take a shower. You should probably limit their time. Mention that up front. What they need right now is to feel human again. It’s amazing how powerful a hot shower and a bit of soap can be.”
“Okay.” At least taking care of the women will take my mind off Rosalie. I explain to the women what we’re going to do and gesture to two of the women furthest back.
To my surprise, they refuse to be separated. The two of them head into the lavatory on the left, clinging to each other. After I show them how to adjust the water, use the soap provided, and show them the clothing we’ve provided, shock fills their faces, then joy pushes all evidence of their fear away. I leave the two women to help each another and head back to grab two more.
Ten minutes.
That’s what I say, and they don’t spend a single second past their allotted time. Once the first pair of women is done, they rush to grab the next two, crowding inside the lavatories, helping them through the process.
Eyes get brighter. Smiles push away listless expressions. The women begin to speak, talking softly to one another, helping one another. They comb each other’s hair. Hug. Praise God. They absolutely adore the clothing Guardian HRS provides.
I stand back, amazed. This must be what Skye alluded to with her mysterious comment about magic happening. In tragedy, these women find fellowship and strength in each other.
Another tear slips free. I swipe it from my cheek and check in on Rafe. He’s not in his seat. I wander to the front of the plane looking for him.
The Guardians divide the plane into three main sections. Four if you count the lavatories in the back and the gear lockers beyond. Up front is Command and Control. Immediately behind that are four medical tables, two to a side.
To my surprise, Rafe sits on one of the medical exam tables. The medical team gathers around him, blocking my view. Something’s wrong and it takes a minute before what that might be kicks in.
I was certain Rafe took a hit to his leg back in the courtyard, but when he rolled on his shoulder and popped back to his feet, I thought I imagined it. Add to that how he ran through the jungle and scaled down the wall? I dismissed the whole thing and put it out of my mind.
But the medical team surrounds him. They wouldn’t do that without reason. Curious, I peek between those gathered, trying to see.
Skye notices me and gestures to the man blocking my view. One of Charlie team, he turns toward me.
“Here.” Stepping back, he makes a hole for me to see.
And what I see makes my heart stop.
Rafe’s leg…
Is not a leg.
Where his leg is supposed to be, a piece of metal is there instead. That metal has a chunk missing out of it. I gape at the mangled metal, certain my eyes play tricks on me.
When I look at him, my brows practically touch with the confusion flooding my mind. I try to formulate a question but can’t seem to string together the words. He tries to hide his reaction, but the pain of rejection is scrawled across his face.
Which is weird.
“I thought you were hit, but there was no blood.” I look at the leg, look at Rafe, then look at the leg again. “You tucked, rolled, and popped to your…” My voice trails off.
How did I not know?
“I thought I imagined…” I turn to Skye Summers. “He ran with me clinging to his back and rappelled…” I shake my head, astounded.
“Fortunately, he took a bullet to the prosthetic rather than his other leg.” Skye examines the metal. “It’s a mangled mess, but still serviceable. We’ll have a new one waiting once we’re home.” She glances up at Rafe. “I’d like to look at your…”
“Stump?” Rafe spits out the words and withdraws when I try to touch him.
“Yes, Rafe.” Doc Summers doesn’t take Rafe’s lip. “I want to look at your stump. No need to be a grump about it, but we need to see if all that running hurt the…”
“Stump?” I think I hear wrong. Are they talking about his leg?
“Yeah. I’ve got a bloody stump.” Rafe practically bites my head off.
“Why are you being mean to me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide…” I don’t finish that sentence. A feeling of betrayal overcomes me, making me question a lot of things.
“Don’t you have something to do?” His upper lip curls.
“Check yourself, dude.” Alec wanders past, stopping to listen to our very odd, and painful, exchange. “Your ass is showing. Apologize.”
“Because I have a stump?”
“No, dickwad. Apologize for being a bloody ass for not telling her sooner. After all the fu…”
“You better watch what comes out of that mouth next.” Rafe shifts his anger from me to Alec. “Or I’ll beat you over the head with my mangled leg.”
“I’d like to see you try, but seriously, dude? This is how she finds out? That’s fucking harsh.” Alec shakes his head and turns to me. “Give the fucker some grace. His ass is showing.”
“Why you bloody…” Rafe makes a move to climb off the table, but without the prosthetic, he’s not getting very far. Fortunately, he figures that out before he makes a fool of himself.
“Rafe.” I place my hand on his arm again. As expected, he flinches at my touch.
I felt something was off when he never made love to me in bed. Or the shower. He slept on one side of the bed, never switching with me. I didn’t think much of it, but it all kind of makes sense. Not that I understand why he never mentioned it.
I know why I never noticed. Rafe’s quite talented when it comes to making love. Not to mention inventive. We’ve made love everywhere but the bed and shower. Now, I know why. Not that it matters. It changes nothing.
“If Doc Summers needs to check the stump, then let her check the stump.” I glance at the twisted metal of the prosthetic. “That had to hurt.”
“Prosthetic limbs—they don’t feel pain.” He’s being mean on purpose. Trying to push me away.
I don’t have the energy to fight with him.
“I don’t care if you’ve got one leg, two legs, or three legs, but I agree with Alec. You’re being a major jerk about this.” I point to the leg. “Do you think this makes a bit of difference? To me? You’re practically bionic. If it wasn’t for that prosthetic, that bullet would’ve shredded the lower half of your leg. Then I would’ve had to tie you to my back, rappel down that wall, and then carry your sorry ass on my back through the jungle. If you didn’t bleed out, that is. Frankly, with the way you’re acting right now, I probably would’ve left you behind.”
My words bring stunned silence to all gathered. Alec’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Rafe’s jaw gapes like he doesn’t believe what just came out of my mouth. From the way his gaze flicks from side to side checking out the reactions of the others, the gears in his head start to move.
Slowly.
But they’re moving.
Skye simply leans back, arms crossed over her chest, with that serene, all-knowing smile fixed in place.
Mitzy gives one of those slow claps and shoulders her way to the side of the bed. “Dayum, Carmen dressed you down in style. Nice job, girl.” Mitzy pats me on the back. “I’m totally going to enjoy welcoming her into the chick brigade.”
“Chick brigade?” I glance at Mitzy, confused, but hopeful.
“Yeah,” Mitzy gives a vigorous nod. “Us chicks gotta stick together. If we don’t, these macho dudes won’t know which way is up, or how to tie their shoes. Not to mention the stupid stuff that comes out of their mouths.” With a snap of her finger, she points to Rafe’s leg. “Why don’t you show Skye that stump while I welcome Carmen officially into the Chick Brigade?”
Rafe snaps his jaw shut. Alec huffs a laugh. Skye doesn’t move a muscle until Rafe finally leans forward and separates his prosthetic from his leg, muttering something about women under his breath.
Mitzy leans toward me and uses a whisper that everyone can clearly hear. “Let’s give Rafe space to stew about what an ass he is for keeping this from you. Then he can apologize to you later.” Mitzy uses finger quotes implying a particular type of apology. Pulling me away, she leans in and whispers for real. “Give him space to get his thoughts together.”
Mitzy leads me away as Alec lets out a low whistle. “Fuck, they got you good. Looks like Stumpy bit the bullet. Zeb, you owe me a button.”
“You bloody hell did not place a bet about me getting shot.” Rafe glares at his teammate and takes a swing, but Alec dodges out of the way.
“Not about getting shot. That was over whether you told her or not.” Zeb tosses a button at Alec with a grin plastered to his face. “You’re in so much trouble, brother.” He looks at me and shakes his head.
I don’t know what it is, but that look makes me feel included. I’m a part of the gang rather than an outsider. A smile fills my face as my joy and warmth fill me up from the inside out.
The men’s voices continue as Mitzy leads me to the front of the plane. I love Bravo’s banter. I adore how they tease and support each other. What I don’t know is what I think about Rafe keeping something like that from me.
When we get to the front of the plane and the bank of computer screens, one of the technicians turns toward Mitzy. “We’ve got contact,” he says.
That can only mean one thing.
“Is it Rosalie?” My hands clasp in front of my chest as hope stirs within me.
“Let’s find out.” Mitzy gestures to a seat next to the bulkhead. I squeeze past her people and try to follow what they see.
“That’s Brady and Booker.” Mitzy points at the screen. “Why are we only seeing two of them?” A grainy black-and-white image fills the screen, slowly panning a full 360 degrees, but there are only the two men.
“Where’s Rosalie?” My voice shakes and I press my hands together, getting ready to pray.
“Unclear.” Mitzy’s response is quick and dismissive, letting me know my questions are only slowing her down.
I resolve to be silent and try my best to follow along.
“Where’s the audio?” Mitzy asks.
“It’s cutting in and out, but I can confirm it’s only Bravo-One and -Two. There’s no sign of Bravo-Four or the girl.”
In this case, that girl is Rosalie.
“They’ve got company.” Mitzy points to a grouping of red dots.
“What do you make of that?”
“Looks like they split off. Brady and Booker are drawing the men after them. Which means Hayes is with Rosalie.” Mitzy spares me a glance, but I press my lips tight together and keep silent.
Is it too much to hope Rosalie is safe?
“Wish we’d sent a second drone with them instead of the others.” Mitzy leans back and pulls at her hair. “Oh well, can’t cry over spilt milk.”
“What do you want us to do?” The man asks for direction.
“Keep with Bravo One and Two. If they make secondary exfil, we’ll find out. If they’re captured…”
