CHAPTER 3
I hear three knocks on the door
followed by a pause. Two more knocks and a pause. Then four slower
knocks, a pause, and one last knock. My heart rate soars well above
the resting rate but I breath a little easier because that's our
code. After the code proves correct I'm allowed to ask one question.
In actuality though it's really more of a demand and my voice comes
out steady and hard, “Name the day.”
He speaks clearly, “March twentieth,
two thousand and ten.”
Another check, although my pulse is
already slowing, “Name the actual day.”
“March seventeenth, two thousand and
ten,” he responds calmly.
The final check. I roll my eyes, “Why
does that matter?”
“Because that's the day that St.
Patrick drove out all the snakes from Ireland,” he responds.
I let out a huge sigh, lower my arms,
and push the safety back into the 'on' position on the 1911. I walk
over to the door and unlock it's stupid little privacy lock that
wouldn't do any actual good in an actual situation where someone
wanted in. Locks only keep out honest thieves.
I step away from the door and Joey
turns the knob and the door opens towards him. He stands there,
grinning at me with his perfect smile, and then steps forward to bear
hug me. He lifts me up off the ground and plants a kiss on the tip of
my nose before setting me back down. I protest at him, “I don't
know why we have to do that stupid routine even when I know that it's
you, I mean I saw you get out of the truck!”
He tucks a lock of my errant fiery red
hair behind my ear, “Because it's protocol and you never know,”
he gently takes the gun from my hand and checks the safety,
unchambers the round, pulls the magazine out and sticks the lone
bullet back in the magazine for a full clip, “Besides, practice
makes perfect for when the perfect time comes.” He sets the gun
down, reaches out and play pinches my nose.
I playfully swat his hand away and
grab his wrist, pulling him in for a real hug. I bury my face in his
neck and heave a sign of relief that he's back in my arms. I inhale
and it calms me down because he smells like soap, clean sweat,
leather, and comfort. He tightens his hug and rocks me a little, he
knows me so well that he knows that it calms me down more than words
ever could.
“Did you get the stuff for Diana?”
I murmur into his chest.
“Yup. In fact I need to get that
stuff over to her. She'll be okay for at least a few more days and
what with her father finally joining up with the,” he pauses,
raises his arms, and makes air quotes with his fingers as he speaks,
“neighborhood patrol,” then wraps his arms back around me, “yesterday, I'm pretty positive they'll be okay after we've left.”
I giggle and then I frown a little.
Nothing ever gets past him. He pulls me back, placing his hands on my
shoulders, and looks at me, “Hey, it's okay, I'll be fine. They
know me. The real danger is outside the neighborhood where people
don't know us. At least they know us here.”
“You,” I corrected him. “They
don't even know me here.”
He looks at me with sarcasm in his
green eyes, “Well, outside this neighborhood they don't know us,
and that's the important part, because that's where we're going, so
if it makes you feel any better, we're equal targets once we leave
this part of Pristinewood.”
“That doesn't make me feel any
better,” I quip. I bite my lip because that's not what's really on
my mind. What's really on my mind is why he's risking his life for
Diana.
He reads me like a book, “What's
wrong? What are you thinking about?”
I pull my shoulders out from under his
hands and walk over to the hutch. “Do you really think it was a
good idea to risk your life for Diana? I mean, what if something had
happened to you? Then where does that leave me?”
“But nothing happened to me, I'm
fine,” he responds.
“Yes, but something could have
happened.”
“But it didn't.”
“But it could have!” I cry at him,
tears threatening to stream out of my eyes.
He walks over to me and pulls me into
another hug, “C'mon now, the important part is that I'm here now
and I'm okay.”
I realize that I'm being
extraordinarily selfish and that just makes the lump in my throat
feel that much bigger and that much more tight. I sigh, “I'm sorry.
I just don't want anything bad to happen to you.” It's true, I
don't want anything bad to happen to him, my whole world would be
turned upside down if I lost him. I remind myself though that he's an
Eagle Scout and it's in his nature to help people. I smile up at him
and he nibbles on my nose before planting a kiss on my lips. That's
all that it takes to make tears come poring out of my eyes and I
press my lips hard against his, trying to tell him without words how
much I love him. He kisses me in 3 quick little successions like a
chicken plucking up feed from the dirt and then acts like he's going
to bite down and chomp my nose with his incisors. I can't help but
laugh because I can't understand his weird obsession with my nose as
I push his face away and swat his arm playfully, “Stop that,” I
half-heartedly admonish, not really meaning it.
He chuckles and plants another kiss on
my lips before he starts heading for the backpack that he brought in
with him from the truck. “I guess I'd better get this stuff over to
Diana before we head out. What time is it?”
I look at my wristwatch, “A quarter
to ten.”
“Okay good, we still have plenty of
daylight left. Besides, Platypus,” he tweaks my nose again, “I've
known Diana since I was nine so she's like a sister to me, I want to
help any way I can.”
I watch him as he slings the pack over
his shoulder and fishes in his pocket for his keys. I pause a little
and then blurt, “Just be careful okay? I know it's just right
across the street but...” Words fail me as panic threatens to push
tears down my face again, “Just please be careful.”
He crosses the short distance between
the backdoor and where I'm standing to wrap me up in a hug and
sweetly kiss me on the forehead, “Stop worrying, you goofball.
We'll have plenty of time to worry later. Save some for then, okay?”
I nod and he releases me, gliding the backs of his fingers across my
cheek. He turns and walks out into the living room and down the front
entryway. He opens the door and pauses to look down at the two packs
already sitting there, “Do you mind doing one last check on the
bags while I get this to Diana and then I'll do a final check before
we head out?”
I laugh, “Always be prepared,
right?”
“Exactly. I'll be back before you
know it.” He smiles at me and then slips out the door, shutting it
softly behind him.
I check my watch. 9:55am. I take a
quick couple of steps to the door to look out the window at his
retreating back. I laugh because he checks the street both ways
before crossing even though a car isn't in sight or for that fact,
even within hearing distance. He's dressed accordingly, in
green-toned military issue cargo pants that we picked up years ago at
the military surplus store, black tightly-laced combat boots, a
greenish moisture-wicking top, and a bandana on his head to hold his
longish dirty blonde hair off of the back of his neck. I watch as the
sunlight catches the blonde in his hair and turns it into spun gold
momentarily before he's quickly across the street and under the shade
of a tree.
I looked down at my own clothing, it's very similar to
what he's wearing with slight variations. About the only difference
is that I'm wearing a back tank top with a light weight jacket belted
around my waist with the same camouflage pattern as my leggings,
which are a little more streamlined since they're women’s. My boots
are a deep forest green though and that's about the only difference.
I look down at my bare feet and then
to the packs by the door, obviously heavy laden and full, not packed
for just a day's travel or a light excursion. My boots are nestled
closely to one of the packs and so I decide to sit down and put them
on. As I'm lacing them up I notice that both packs are marked with a
symbol of some kind, it's not very noticeable, instead it's almost
like added camouflage; like someone drew on the already green packs
with just a shade darker of a green marker. I shrug because the
markings look like the familiar line drawings that Joey does.
When
I'm through lacing my boots I sit cross-legged in front of the packs
and start checking them; a seventy-two hour supply of water and food,
paracord, various small weapons like knives, two handguns in each
with more than enough ammo, field guides to plant identification,
several maps. I pause and lean against the wall. If I stop to think
about it, it all becomes so terribly overwhelming that I can't do
anything but just sit there. I turn my head, trying to pop my neck
and notice two smaller yet equally overstuffed bags laying near ours.
I don't even want to think about what those are for, we're already
carrying about seventy-five pounds each. I close my eyes and rest my
head against the wall. We trained for this, though, we prepared
for it. Everything is going to be fine... I hope.
______
Until Next Time,
<3 Shade
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