Fantasy Football Part 28

Seems like maybe we are getting back  into a routine for writing. Maybe the world around us is starting to return to some semblance of normal? We shall see. In the meantime, read and enjoy if you would.

…..

While they ran, the gnome Vinyard, somehow leading the charge despite his small size, a barrage of thoughts assaulted Plex.  He cursed the healer for not working on Glavven first.  He cursed himself for not being faster, being more aware, so he could have avoided the thrown spears on his own.  He cursed the dragon again and again for her part in all of this, in all these years of needless slaughter and bloodshed, in her name, or her honor.  Curse her honor.  Curse the day she was born.

Then his thoughts would circle back to what Baclem had just told him: Glavven was dead.  Dead?  How could that be?  Dead?  It was impossible.  Dead?  The minotaur hadn’t seem that injured.  Glavven was the strongest person on the team.  He could not be slayed so easily.  There must have been a mistake.  Dead?  It was all his fault.  Plex had failed him, failed his team.

No.  No he hadn’t.  This was all the dragon’s doing.  Glavven was dead, despite how unreal that sounded and felt, because the beast meddled in their lives for fun.  She played with them and tossed them away as she saw fit.  She was the monster behind every bad thing that had befallen the races since she seized control.

How had the healers failed to notice Glavven’s more serious wound?  They were supposed to be best among each of the races.  The dragon had demanded the best.  Nothing else would do for her new sport.  How could they have failed to save the minotaur?  It didn’t make sense.  None of it made sense.

Round and round his thoughts me.  Never sticking to any one thought or longer than it took his feet to fall and lift from the pavement as they made their flight through the deserted streets and alleys.

His strength returned in his arm more and more as they ran, the continuing effects of whatever the healer had done for him, but Plex was still certain he would have stumbled and fallen more than once if not for the steadying hand of Baclem.  First a minotaur and then a troll, Plex was racking up quite the debt list to races elves usually had little to nothing to do with.  

He wondered if football had somehow made him soft, despite the workouts and conditioning, the instincts and reactions that mattered most had failed him when called upon.  Or, perhaps the odds were just insurmountable against them?  Lavalandinarial and her honor guard were too strongly entrenched to be overthrown.

Plex shook the thought away.  It was defeatist and unproductive.  It was exactly what the dragon wanted him, and everyone else, to think.  

They slowed and stopped.  Vinyard motioned for them to gather together and be quiet.

“We are nearly there but you must be as quiet as possible and follow my lead.”

Baclem’s grip tightened on Plex.  He tried to let the troll know that he was okay now and no longer needed assistance but they were moving again before Plex could get his message across.

They stepped out of the shadowy alleyway and into a lit square.  The sudden glaring contrast hurt Plex’s eyes and he shielded them with his free hand.  Before he could see clearly, a shout of alarm went up from behind their group.

It was more Honor Guards. Somehow, they had found them. Then again, Plex cursed, they were the best from each of the races, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that they caught up to them. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though. It also meant that they were going to have to resort to drastic measures to lose the pursuit. 

Plex pulled himself free from Baclem’s grip. Any trace of his injury, or the subsequent healing, was gone. He had replaced it with rage. Rage at Glavven’s death. Rage at the state of his world. Rage at Lavalandinarial and her dominance over everything. Rage at the amount of senseless death he had seen at the hands of the dragon. 

He started running back towards the shouted alarm. The weight of a sword held down his right hand and he couldn’t remember how it got there. Did he pick it up before he began running away? He shook that thought from his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baclem running beside him, his own sword in his hand. It seemed that the troll was intending to help him with his attack on the Honor Guard. 

Behind him, he heard Vinyard hollering for him to stop. He knew that Vinyard and his people thought that he was important to the mission, but at that moment, he didn’t care. Not only did he feel like he needed to get revenge for Glavven’s death, but there were others who needed to be saved. Plex wasn’t going to let anyone else fall to the dragon’s whims. Not if he could help it.

He finally came upon someone being accosted by the Honor Guard. An older dwarf, who he remembered as one of the defensive coaches, was surrounded by two of his kinsmen bearing the colors of the dragon. Plex immediately set upon the dwarf closest to him. Baclem circled around towards the other.

Plex knew that the Honor Guard couldn’t have heard him approach over the commotion going on around them, so it must’ve been the dwarf’s warrior instincts that warned him that he was coming. It didn’t matter. Plex’s superior speed, coupled with his unbridled rage, allowed him to deliver a killing blow to the Honor Guard before the dwarf could put up his defenses. Hot blood shot out of the dwarf’s throat as the blade dug all the way through his neck.

Baclem wasn’t as lucky. Because he was going after an opponent who was further away, the Honor Guard that he was fighting had more time to react. The troll moved in and swung his sword from the side. After disengaging from the dwarven coach, the Honor Guard put his sword in line to block. The dwarf then stepped to the side and let the troll’s weapon go past unobstructed. Now off balance, Baclem left himself exposed to attack.

Plex shouted a warning and moved to help but he knew he was going to be too late.  The honor guard spun his blade with precision and skill, flowing into the space left open by Baclem’s unobstructed swing.  The strike surely would have delivered a mortal blow if the coach the Honor Guard had been accosting hadn’t stuck a foot out and tripped him.  The blade slashed harmlessly and the troll brought his outstretched elbow up into a crouching blow with the guards chin.

The guard’s head whipped back and his weapon dropped from nerveless fingers.  Rather than deliver the killing blow himself though he was in a good position to do so, Plex grabbed the dwarven coaches shoulder and shouted, “Let’s go.” 

Baclem had followed the elbow with a smooth attack of his own, bring his hands together overhead on the hilt of his sword and sweeping the blow down straight onto the guard’s head.  Plex had already turned and began to run back to the rest of the team, pulling the coach with him, when he heard the crunch of metal on metal and then sickening thud of the blade embedding in the guard’s skull.

A moment later Baclem was once again at his side.  Some of Plex’s rage had cooled but it wasn’t gone completely and when another shout of alarm rose behind him, he was tempted to turn and face whoever was there.  He felt as though he could and would stand against the dragon herself in that moment.  But, enough of his anger had been unleashed that he could let logic carry the moment.

Vinyard was still waiting for them as they returned to where they had been.  The gnome wore a look of frustrated annoyance and as Plex passed, Vinyard seethed, “You need to stop running off.”

Plex wasn’t sure why they thought he was such a big deal.  They could find others to lead if he should fall.  They could find other entries into the teams.  He was not indispensable.  But, he kept his retort from reaching his lips.  While he was replaceable, they had also pinned a lot of their hopes and plans on him and had set those in motion.  It would be hard to change things now that the play had already started.  Besides, now that he was really allowing himself to feel the anger he had been harboring for the beast and her minions, Plex was beginning to think he was going to like leading the line against her, calling the plays, running the offense.  

He’d been picked to be a quarterback just because he could throw the ball.  He was a leader whether he liked to admit it or not.  That Baclem would follow him towards the sound of fighting was proof enough of that.

Somehow Vinyard had gotten ahead of them again and was ushering the team into a dark alley.  The heavy booted footsteps of men at arms rang out behind them.  Plex felt like they were too close to lose and they would have to stand and fight again but once he entered the alley the sound of their approach disappeared entirely.  

Vinyard stood at the cusp of the alley, just inside the shadows of the surrounding.  He wore a mischievous smile and when Plex caught his eyes, the gnome just held a finger over his lips to indicate silence was still needed.  A moment later a troop of Honor Guard, fully armed and armored, passed the alley without even a sideways glance.  There is magic at play here, Plex thought.

Fantasy Football Part 20

And, after a slight delay of game, we’re back. Read on to see what happens next with our favorite elven quarterback and the rest of his team.

…..

The roar of the crowed was being slowly replaced by a confused hush as a rush of whispers sped around the stadium.  It seemed to Plex that the switch the Honor Guard had made at the behest of the dragon had not gone unnoticed and word was spreading that the dragon was interfering with the game.

Plex scanned the crowd and found the pocket of dwarves he had noticed at the beginning of the game, the ones who hadn’t be cheering, who hadn’t looked like they were interested in the game at all.  He finally spotted them and they were huddled together in a spirited conversation with much gesturing and pointing amongst themselves. The elf wondered what they were up to but couldn’t imagine they would do anything now in the final seconds of the game.

Lavalandinarial shifted her weight on her stage.  The platform creaked and all eyes moved to rest with the beast.  She had once again adopted an expression of indifference but Plex was certain that was far from the truth.  The dragon very much cared.  

She let out a sigh and a puff of smoke billowed from her mouth.  The crowd quieted and shifted uneasily in their seats. A small smile, barely discernible, twisted the dragon’s lips.  At first Plex had assumed she would be upset that her interference hadn’t gone unnoticed but now he realized that she was still enjoying this spectacle.  

The whole thing, the teams, the game, the crowd, all of it was for her amusement and her amusement alone.  

Plex’s anger reached a new level.  

Needing to do something to calm down he turned his attention back to the field where the healer was still working with the dwarf who had been robbed of the ball and then punched twice by the Honor Guard.  The dwarf shouldn’t have been that injured but his face was white as if he were in a great deal of pain and on the verge of going into shock.

“It isn’t pain,” Plex muttered.

“No,” Coach Sprout said, suddenly at Plex’s side.  “It’s fear. He doesn’t need to worry, though. She won’t need to eat him to keep him quiet.  She obviously doesn’t care who knows she is cheating.”

Some of Plex’s rage had been tempered by Sprout’s arrival at his elbow startling him.  He could still feel it burning slow and low in his gut. It wasn’t just the charade of it, the destruction of the game and the waste of time and lives it had already cost.  The anger was churning hotter and hotter because there was nothing he could do about any of it.

Looking briefly down to his coach and then back to the field, where the healer was finally getting the dwarf to his feet and the Honor Guard was signaling for the teams to take their places to resume play, Plex asked, “What do we do now?”

Sprout didn’t answer and, surprised, Plex looked back to his Coach.  The gnome had always had an answer before. Plex couldn’t believe that Sprout wouldn’t have some sort of plan. “Well, Coach?” he prompted the still silent gnome.

With a sigh, Coach Sprout looked up at Plex with defeat on his face. “Now, we try our best, despite knowing that it might all be for nothing if the dragon decides she wants the other team to win.”

Anger began building up in Plex once again. He watched as his defense did their best to stop the offense of the other team. While he couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw a couple of instances where magic had moved a ball out of a defender’s reach or into an offensive player’s hands. Each time he saw it, he became more and more angry.

The whistle blew as the other team called their final time out. Plex looked up and saw that there was only time for one more play. Gilania’s team sent out their kicker to attempt a mid-range field goal. If it was good, the game would go into overtime and only the dragon knew what would happen if the game made it to overtime. Without realizing it, Plex found himself running out onto the field to try to block the kick. He heard Coach Sprout yelling at him to get back to the sideline, but he ignored it. Finally, the gnome called for another player to run off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his teammate exit the field just as the other team got set up for the try. Plex kept going over everything that had happened in the game up until this point and felt his face turn red in anger. He focused all of his energy on that rage. It built up inside of him until he felt like he was going to burst. 

A primal scream erupted from his throat as the ball was snapped back to the holder. Plex took two steps forward and jumped over both his teammates and those trying to block them. He couldn’t remember ever jumping that high before, but didn’t take the time to dwell on it. All he could focus on was using his rage to block the kick. Just as the kicker’s foot touched the ball, Plex felt something trying to touch his mind. It was the same sensation he had felt earlier in the game, right before the dragon had used its magic to mess with his head. “Not this time,” he roared as he flooded his thoughts with his anger.

Somehow, some way, it worked. His rage had allowed him to fight through the mental intrusion. Whatever magic the dragon was using still hurt him, but it wasn’t debilitating like it had been last time. Plex leapt again. The ball hit his swinging arms and went flying back the way it had come from. It landed on the ground ten yards behind the kicker and rolled towards the sideline. Before anyone from either team could get to it, the ball rolled out of bounds.

Stunned silence filled the stadium. All eyes slowly made their way up to the dragon’s platform, where a low growl was beginning to form.

The honor guard blew their whistles and then huddled together in deep discussion.  Plex trotted to the sideline with the rest of his teammates, away their decision. Almost absentmindedly, one of the honor guard threw a flag without care of where it landed.  

Plex’s head throbbed in time to the blood flowing through his veins.  Pulse, pulse, pulsing with his still boiling anger. The momentary outlet of athleticism had done little to assuage his rage.  The dawning realization that his attempt to stand up to the dragon’s interference would not be allowed to stand made him even angrier.

His teeth ground together.  His fists clenched. The muscles in his lengths twisted tightened until he lost feeling in his feet.  His vision shrunk to where he could only see the huddled honor guard circled by a blurry red.  

The head of the honor guard walked over to Coach Sprout and told the gnome something.  The coach nodded his head once and then started calling out instructions. There was a ringing in his ears that kept Plex from hearing what was being said so he trotted over to stand next to the Sprout.  Before he’d made it to the gnome, Plex noticed that his sister’s team was setting up to retake the kick, and a few yards closer at that.

Before Plex could ask what happened, his coach said, “We were called for a penalty.  Too many players on the field or something like that. Also, it has been suggested that I bench you for the remainder of the game for insubordination.  Given the alternative to benching, I feel like we have little choice. I’m not going to leave you out here, though. You are too exposed. Head back to our camp.”

Plex opened his mouth to protest but all his anger left him and he felt suddenly deflated.  The game was out of his hands. The game always had been. His own indifference, how he had felt before his queen asked him to join the elven team, returned and, with a shrug of his shoulders, he turned his back on the field and walked away.

He heard murmurs running around the stands and wondered how much of it was directed at him.  He wanted to look back to see if Lavalandinarial was watching him but didn’t want to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing his face in defeat, in retreat.  So, Plex kept his head down and left the stadium.

He hadn’t gone very far when the stadium erupted in a new wave of cheers.  He assumed that his sister’s team had converted the field goal to tie-up the game.  A part of him hoped they would go on to win. His refusal to be ruled by the dragon had likely sealed his death anyway.  It would be better if his sister won and then could live on.

Lost in these dark thoughs, Plex nearly missed his whispered name.  Whipping his head to the side he saw a dwarf motioning to him from a dark alleyway behind the business that had sprung up around the stadium.  The elf didn’t hesitate. He wanted to know what the dwarves were up to. And, if he was powerless on the field, perhaps he could find his power again off of it.  He quickly stepped into the shadows to join the dwarf.

Echo, Part 25

Within five minutes of being home, the doorbell rang.  Henry and Ana went to answer it together and smiled at the two men, the same two from the restaurant days earlier, standing there.  Henry opened the door wide and ushered the men in with a friendly wave.  They seemed surprised by the reception but stepped inside and moved aside so Henry could shut the door.

“Hello, again.”

The men smiled tentatively at Ana and the one who’d taken his sunglasses off at the restaurant said, “Thank you for letting us in.”

“How can we help you?” Charles asked while leading the group into the living so they could sit down.

“Well, this is a bit awkward, but we are trying to find two people who have fallen off the grid.  They look very much like the two of you.”

Henry laughed, “Well, you know what they say.  We’ve all got a doppelganger out there somewhere.”

They all sat and this time the two men both took their glasses off.

“if we can cut all the pretense,” the man who spoke at the restaurant started, “we know who you are and we don’t care.  If you are happy with your lives now than we are happy for you.”

Ana asked, “You aren’t feds?”

The men laughed and they both said, “No.”

“You’re with the system,” Henry stated.

They nodded yes and the man who’d spoken before said, “We represent their interests on occasion and they’ve asked us to check in with you.”

Henry immediately wanted to ask why but the man continued before he could get the question out.

“Things are beginning to happen on the legal side of things and there may be an opportunity for you to come forward and reclaim your real names.”

“Ana and Henry are our real names,” Ana said firmly.

The man held up an apologetic hand.  “I’m not saying they aren’t.  We’re just here to see if you are happy with your new lives or if you want to come clean, for lack of a better word.”

Henry glanced to Ana.  Her jaw was set and her eyes burned.  He felt much the same.  To discredit their current names was to threaten their life together.  Neither of them would stand for that.

The men seemed to sense their agitation and the speaker quickly added, “We aren’t here to demand you come forward.  We’ve been given assurances that enough of those who were helped into hiding will come forward that the legal process can happen without everyone participating.  In other words, if you want your old life wiped away, forgotten, we can make that happen.”

Henry had no idea how they would accomplish that but he said, “We are Henry and Ana.”

His wife added, “Exactly.”

The men considered that for a moment, their eyes looking back and forth between Henry and Ana, and then they nodded almost in unison.

Standing up, the put their sunglasses back on and the speaker said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Henry and Ana.  Congratulations on your growing family.  We wish you the best in your future together.”

Henry walked the men to the door and turned the dead bolt once they were gone.  He leaned his head against the cool, smooth wood and breathed deeply.  Could it be that easy?  Was that truly the end of it?

Returning to his wife, who had remained in the other room, he didn’t need to ask what she was thinking.  Fear and doubt were etched in her features.

He reached for her and she curled into his arms without a word.

They stayed that way for several minutes before she asked, “Do you believe them?”

“Not entirely.”

“Me neither.”

After another moment of quiet comfort in each other’s arms, Henry said, “At least we know they aren’t in our heads anymore.  If they could read our thoughts still they wouldn’t had to ask.”

Ana looked up at him with a half-smile.  “Silver lining,” she murmured.

“So we know they are out there and maybe they are planning something that will put us out of our hidden life here.  And, maybe they will leave us alone.  And, maybe they can erase who we used to be.  And maybe the feds are still hunting us and they will knock on our door next.  What can we do?  I’m Henry.  You are Ana.  That is our child,” he put one hand on her belly.  “And that is our truth regardless of what came before or what happens next.”

“Exactly,” she said in an echo of what she’d said to the men.  Then she pushed herself on her toes and kissed her husband.

Echo, Part 24

“I think those guys were with the system.”

Ana nodded in agreement and added, “If they were the feds, they would have taken us into custody.  And they probably wouldn’t have been so out in the open.  But why would the system want to spy on us?”

Henry scratched his chin where a small amount of stubble had begun to come in.  After leaving the restaurant, they had ended up walking the few blocks back to his office where he told his boss he needed to take the rest of the day.  From there they had taken a cab to the closest mall where they hoped they’d be able to slip away, figuring their home and his office and their normal routes in between were being watched.  They ended up at a nicer hotel on the far side of town and Henry probably could have gotten a razor to shave with but it hadn’t been a priority.  They’d been there a day and a half, trying to figure out what was going  on and what they should do next, along with seeing if they had been followed to their new location or if they had gotten away clean.

“I haven’t figured that part out,” Henry replied.  “Maybe the system just wanted to see how we were getting on and didn’t think they would get a straight answer if they reached out directly.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know,” Henry laughed.  “But none of this really makes much sense.”

Ana countered, “I think the system knows that something is coming and was trying to figure out how we would respond to being spied on, to know if we need to be worried about again.”

Henry had considered this possibility, too.  He hadn’t wanted to vocalize it but agreed with his wife that it was the most likely conclusion.  If the feds were close to tracking them down, the system would need to know how much of a liability they were.  If Henry and Ana were captured, would they hold to their new identities or would they admit to who they used to be and talk about everything the system had done for them.  The system hadn’t been in the news much lately and that was probably exactly how they liked it.

Carrying the conversation forward as if Ana could read his thoughts, Henry said, “It could be something good.  Perhaps the moment has come for the promised battle to reclaim our old lives.”

She smirked.  “Neither of us care anymore.”

“Maybe that’s what they were, are, trying to figure out.”

Ana, who had been pacing around the room, stretching her legs and back, came and sat next to Henry.  She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her.

“So what do we do?”

He shrugged.  “Go home.”

She looked up at him with her brows furrowed.  “Just like that?  Just that easy?”

“It probably won’t be easy.  If it is just the system spying us, whatever their reasons are, we will have to deal with whatever comes of that.  The least of which is the knowledge that they are out there watching us.”  He closed his eyes and shuddered before continuing.  “If it is the feds trying to figure out if we are who they are looking for, perhaps the best thing to do would be pretend we don’t see them and go on living our lives.  Let’s not give them any reason to think we are more than we appear, right?  Either of them.  I love this life with you and have no interest in going back to who I used to be.”

Ana relaxed into him, evidently pleased with what she’d heard.  “Okay, let’s do it.”

They stayed that way for a long time, enjoying the closeness, the touch.  Only when Ana needed to get up to stretch again, something she needed to do more and more frequently as the baby grew within her, did they finally break apart.  Even then, Henry lingered.  He was loathe to leave the room without her, though there had been no evidence that their flight to the hotel had been spotted.  The fear of leaving the room either to be captured himself or to come back to find that she had disappeared suddenly loomed large over his heart.  The odds were low and the fear illogical but he couldn’t help the way he felt.  His resolve to return home slipped ever so slightly.

There was nothing else to do, though.  So, trying to suppress the sigh he felt rising up, he said, “I’ll go check us out.”

Ana reached out to him.  “This is the right move.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“It’s all going to be okay.”  She squeezed his hand.

“I know.”

“Then smile.”  And with that, she smiled herself.

Henry was powerless to do anything but smile in return.

Echo, Part 23

“Should we make a run for it?”

Henry shook his head.  “No, I don’t want to risk it.”

Ana instinctively caressed the bump where their child was growing.

Henry reached out for her and she took his hands.  He hoped they still looked like they were having a casual, intimate conversation over lunch.  He hoped that they were just being paranoid and the men who had walked in with their dark suits, sunglasses, and ear pieces were not what they seemed to be.  He hoped that somehow he and his beloved would find a way out of this mess.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” he mumbled.

“What?”

She squeezed his hands to get his attention, demanding an answer.

“Maybe,” he started to repeat himself but then stopped.  He looked over at the men who looked like federal agents and then looked back to Ana.  “Maybe we don’t have to do anything.  Maybe our new credentials are so good they can’t prove who we used to be.  Maybe we can just ride this out.”

She shook her head.  “If they take is and run our prints, those will tie us back to who we used to be.”

Henry frowned.  He hadn’t thought of that and, while they could argue that the database wasn’t necessarily accurate, it would be a tough sell.  They couldn’t run, though.  That was too risky.  And if they couldn’t run and they couldn’t just pretend like they were only their new identities, that really left only one option as far as Henry was concerned.

“We’ll have to fight back.”

“What?  How can we do that?”

Henry pushed away from the table.  Ana, managing to keep hold of one of his hands, kept him from leaving.  With her eyes she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to talk to them.”

“But…”

He cut her off.  “What’s the worst that can happen?  Whatever it is, it would happen whether we sit here and wait for it.  I’m tired of waiting.  I’m going to ask them what they want.”

Ana seemed about to argue but then nodded in agreement and let go of Henry’s hand.

He smiled, mouthed, “I love you,” and then walked over to the table where the two men sat, still holding their menus in front of their faces.

“You need help picking something?”

Henry wasn’t trying to flippant with the question and wasn’t quite sure where he was getting this burst of courage and aggression.  It was the first question he’d been able to think of on the short walk between tables.

The two men tried to ignore him which just made Henry more certain that they were there to watch and gather information.  A normal patron would have at least acknowledged the question or looked up to make eye contact and then tell him to go away.

Henry pulled out a chair and sat down at their table.  That forced them to pay attention.  They could no longer pretend that Henry wasn’t talking to them.  They folded their menus and placed them on the table.  The one on Henry’s left took his sunglasses off as well.  The other agent did not.

“Really, pretty much anything on the menu is good.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to us.”

The man was more direct than Henry expected.  He’d thought they would continue to play ignorant but since they’d been direct, he chose to as well.  “What do you want?”

“We’re just here to observe.”

“What does that…”

Henry was cut off before he could finish his question by the man’s partner.  “What are you doing?”

The man without sunglasses held up his hand to calm the other agent and then said, “Our cover is already blown.  We could have pretended not to know what he was talking about but based on how we look and his suspensions, there’s nothing we could have done or said to convince he we were anything other than what we are.”

Henry asked, “And what are you?”

“We aren’t authorized to say but you aren’t in any danger from us.”

Henry frowned.  This all seemed like a dream.  Plus it seemed like they wanted to be seen or they wouldn’t have come into the restaurant, dressed like they were, and sat so close to where he and Ana were sitting.  Henry suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this and he quickly pushed away from the table.

He wasn’t sure if Ana had been able to hear the short conversation or if she was just reacting to his body language but he saw her getting up from the corner of his eye too.

“Leave us alone,” he demanded.

“We can’t do that.”

Henry didn’t want to turn his back to the two men but he had no choice.  He quickly collected his wife and together they left the restaurant.

Outside on the sidewalk, Ana asked, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.  I just suddenly felt like we were really in trouble.”

Henry directed them down an alley that ran behind the shopping center they’d been in.  He needed time to think and he hoped that getting off the busy street would help clear things up.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet but we can’t go back to the car.  You didn’t leave anything important in it?”

“Of course not.  I know better than that.”  Her reply was half-indignant but Henry knew that was just from her fighting the same nerves he was.

He squeezed her hand lovingly.  “And that’s just one of the reasons I love you.”