CHAPTER SIX
XII
"Baby I been waitin', I been waitin' night and day." Amber leant against the wall of the 7-11, chin to chest, hands deep in her pockets, singing to herself. "I didn't see the time, and now I've waited half my life away." Around her the honks of cars, shouts of laughter, the wail of sirens rose and fell. "There were lots of invitations… I know you sent me some." A carful of young boys screeched past and she heard one of them scream: "Ya fucken dirty slut!" "But I was waitin'… waitin' for the miracle to come."
She felt off tonight, head so heavy she could barely hold it up, a bracing pain across her chest, worsened whenever she coughed, which was often.
"Nothin' left to do when you know you've been taken. Nothin' left to do when you're beggin' for a crumb." Georgie passed by, whistled at Amber in her short, sharp way, kept on strolling when Amber did not look up. "Nothin' left to do when you're waitin'…" A cop car slid past, the rookie in the passenger seat shooting her a dirty look she might've flipped the bird at, if she'd been looking. "…for the miracle to come…"
"I dreamed about you baby, it was just the other night." Her thoughts turned to the guardian angel, and she wondered if he'd visit her tonight, take her for another ride, lift her clear off the ground in those big arms of his. "Mostly you was naked, but some of you was light." She just couldn't muster energy to step out and work it. It was all too hard, tonight. Cars kept whizzing past, and she kept missing them. "Waitin'… for the miracle… for the miracle to come…"
A horn honked, nearby, then again. And again. Finally, she dragged her head upwards, eyes smarting in the neon light, gazing dully out into the street. A bright red convertible, hood up, was tooling there, right in front of her. Anyone who owned a red convertible was stupid enough for her to cope with, she thought through a clouded haze, and somehow urged her body to move, pushing off the glass and putting one foot in front of the other until she reached the car and hopped in, slumping in the leather seat, still bearing that new car smell.
The car screeched off and the driver began yammering.
"Shit, oh shit. I've never done this before. Do you think the cops saw us?"
She managed to twist her neck to look at him where he was tense and nervous, hands gripping the steering wheel.
"Will the cops come after us, do you think?" He continued, looking anxiously in the rearview mirror. "Shit, man, my wife would kill me. Oh man." He flicked a switch by his elbow, locking the doors. Amber didn't like that and it roused her a little. Something was wrong here. The driver was giving her a bashful smile, the scent of his aftershave sharp in the closed air of the car. "It's just that I caught sight of you looking so preWtty there and just had to stop. "
Suddenly, Amber sat up a little straighter. People had to stop for Lucinda. They had to stop for Georgie. Noone had to stop for Amber. Something was very wrong here.
Willing herself to remain calm, Amber managed a little smile. "Don't sweat it, baby. No one saw. But if you're that worried about it, you can let me out here."
The mug laughed and turned a corner. "Oh no, it's cool. Now I've got you, I'm not going to let you get away."
She managed to half-laugh. Every instinct Amber had was screaming at her that this was all wrong, all off. She knew she was in danger and forced herself to breathe deep and look around her. The car was clean, no debris that she might use as a weapon. She had fits in her bag. The threat of some nasty blood borne virus might scare him off… if she could get one popped and put in her syringe that is… shit! She should've been paying more attention before he locked the door. For all that he was carrying on she realised his hands were calm and steady on the wheel and he drove surely and at a reasonable speed. No jiggling feet or sudden turns. Premeditated, she was sure of it. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Maybe all he wanted was to steal a freebie then he'd let her out somewhere. She didn't like it but it was better than any other alternative. Just go along with him then… don't piss him off.
He drove into a long, dark alleyway and her heart hammered painfully against her ribs.
"What would you like then, baby?" She spoke quietly to keep her voice steady as he killed the motor, and sat there silently, in the dark.
"I'd like something special." His voice was calm now, no trace of the jibbering pansy from a moment ago.
"Well," she talked tough, turning her body towards him in the seat so that she could watch his every move. "That would be extra, you know."
He smiled in the darkness and she caught the movement of his hand emerging from his pocket. "Oh, that's not a problem. "
He reached toward her then and as quick as she could she jammed forward with her fist, past his arm and directly into his groin. He gave a little whuff of shock as she fumbled with the door, trying to pop the lock. No luck. Then he was grasping hold of her hair and wrenching her neck back so that she gasped and cried out. You fucken bitch she heard him yell and then her nose and mouth were covered with a pungent cloth and she tried to wriggle around in the seat, trying to get her booted legs up to kick out at him. She couldn't believe it. After all that time telling anyone who'd listen that streetwork was nowhere near as dangerous as television made out, she was about to become a fuckin' statistic! One leg lashed out against the gear stick, another slammed into the roof as she inhaled the sharp substance that covered the cloth and then her thread of consciousness began to unwind, pulling apart. She panicked, slammed upwards against the hand that covered her face, but it was immoveable and she felt a sharp pain stab through the back of her neck before slumping backwards.
XIII
I'd been watchin' Amber all night.
She was having a rough night, that much I could tell. Whether she was sick or too sober or just in a bad mood, I couldn't say, but it wasn't helpin' my state of mind.
I was nervous as all hell.
Everytime she got into a car I followed. Watched. Followed her back. Kept watchin'.
The sports car was no different. I saw a flurry of movement within, heard Amber cry out, the mug swear, heard the thumps. I didn't hesitate.
The doors were locked. The butt of my sai through the windscreen sorted that out. The glass spilled like rain into the front seats, revealing the mug with one ham-fist over Amber's face, a cloth concealing her features, and she was slumped there, out cold.
Rage racketed through me like electricity and I grabbed the guy's wrist, wrenched it away, twisted it and pulled, feeling the arm suddenly pop from its socket. That felt almost too good.
The mug was screaming, face contorted with fear and pain and I saw him reach with his good arm, fumble beneath his coat.
Get Amber out of there, the thought sprung automatically to mind and I reached forward, grasped her slight body and pulled it clear, rolled off the hood as the mug found his gun and began shooting wildly in our direction. One bullet ripped past my shoulder, tearing a stinging lash in the suit.
I hit the asphalt on my shell, cradling Amber's body in my arms, then rolled again and kept on rolling until I was well clear. I heard a car engine hum to life and leapt to my feet and made a jump for the car.
Too late. He hit the accelerator and tore off, still bellowing in agony.
I couldn't go after him and leave Amber there, unconscious and alone.
I punched the nearest brick wall and swore as loud and as furious as I could. Damn.
I'd recognised that guy.
He'd been at the factory last night.
Behind me Amber was crumpled in a heap, senseless. I took her pulse, checked she was breathing, then lifted her up and easily, draping her over my shoulder. Then I went for the roofs.
I sat, cross-legged, on cold cement under an unfriendly full moon, and stretched her out before me. Her red hair fanned around her, her dry lips were slightly parted and her rough hands were curled into loose fists. She'd need water when she woke up. I didn't dare leave her, though, in case she woke up while I was gone.
What was I supposed to do? Donnie would know – but I was on my own.
"Amber?" I muttered, touching her cheek. "Amber? Time to wake up, sweet cheeks. C'mon." I grasped hold of her shoulders and shook gently, so that her head lolled. "Aw, shit." I finally succumbed, and slapped her.
Well, it worked.
With a gasp she woke, jerking upwards and kicking out against me.
"Whoah, whoah, it's me, it's Raphael!" I exclaimed, grabbing hold of her tight so that she couldn't move.
Her eyes rolled wildly for a moment, then she calmed, heaving with breath and stared at me.
"Fuck me." She whispered. "What happened?"
"You were in the midst of a very bad date." I said shortly, getting to my feet and dragging her into a standing position with me. I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing, but it occurred to me to make her walk around, clear her head.
She swayed, lifting a hand to her forehead. "Oh, man," she whimpered, and then puked.
It didn't occur to me to hold her hair back until she'd finished, but she seemed to manage ok.
She stayed bent over for a while, hands on her knees, panting and gagging before slowly standing upright, wiping at her mouth with the back of a hand.
"I feel like I've been hit by a mac truck." She moaned. "Christ, you think you can spot the signs and then… bam…"
"Amber," I pause, realising she didn't know. "That guy – I've seen him before."
Her head snaps up, staring at me in shock. I nod and continue, tense as a bow string. "He was at that address you gave me to check out. I think he's involved with the whole thing."
Her brow creases and I wait while she mulls this over. "Shit." She says finally and collapses heavily back on her rear on the dusty roof. I crouch down beside her.
"Amber, why would they come after you like that?"
She chuckles, folds her arms across her knees. "I kinda hinted to the professor I knew Maria was missing."
Inside the helmet my vision blurs red. "You what? Are you fuckin' serious, Amber?"
She jerks her head, scowling. I turn and kick out at the air, wanting to crush something. I settle for slamming my fist into the rooftop door a few times.
After I've calmed down, Amber turns over onto her knees, pushes herself up with immense effort from the ground, sighing.
"So now they're after me." She says and I grit my teeth, turning away from her in the darkness.
"Looks like. They'll be even more aggressive about it now, too. Have you got someplace to go – some place secret?"
Her laugh is hollow, husky. I can't look at her.
"I got nowhere, baby. I got nowhere but a locker in the subway. I don't think I'll fit."
"No friends? No relatives?"
I sense, rather than see, she shakes her head. I make myself turn around.
"What about your family?"
She steps backwards, alarmed, lip curling savagely. "No way!"
"You need to go somewhere, Amber. You can't stay out on the streets. You won't be able to work for awhile. Not until I've sorted this out. Don't you understand that?"
She sets her jaw, stubborn, and shakes her head, eyes flashing. "I've got a police record. What if these creeps can access it? They'll find my parents' address – what if they hurt them?"
Strangely, that tugs at me someplace deep inside. For some reason, I didn't think she'd worry about something like that. I feel a cool breeze move past the flesh wound on my arm, passing between us and lifting her hair. The stuff he knocked her out with has turned her sallow. She's so small out here. If I hadn't been there, she wouldn't have stood a chance. I can't watch her all the time and no one else will.
I know what I have to do.
I can feel my heart sinking heavily, my guts coiling. I sigh.
"I never planned on doing this." I lift my hands then hesitate. "But I think it's best if I prepare you now."
Across from me her eyes widen as she realises what I'm about to do. I can tell she wants to stop me, but it's too late. As I grasp the helmet on either side and pull, she tugs her coat tight over her chest, cowering backwards in the empty air surrounding us on the roof.
The cool air hits my flesh, feeling fresh and sharp after the humidity of the helmet. The sounds of the city rise sharply and the dim film the glass visor lays over everything is lifted.
I stand before Amber, revealed for what I am, and watch as she inhales sharply and takes several stumbling steps backwards, unable to tear her eyes away. It feels like there's something gripping my heart, tearing it downwards. I want to look away but force myself to keep my eyes on her as she squints, trying to make sense of what she's seeing. Her eyebrows are knotted together, she's tearing at her lower lip with her teeth, and trembling.
The silence is unbearable.
"So…" I shrug, try to laugh. "You afraid?"
Still staring, she nods her head, once, up and down. "Yes." I feel my hands clench, my jaw tighten. "But it doesn't change anything." She whispers then. Now I look away.
"There's only one place I can take you I know for sure is safe." I tell her.
I better call ahead.
XIV
Michelangelo snapped shut his cellphone and kicked his skateboard onto the ramp, leaping across the den in a few quick bounds.
"Hey bros! Bros! Look alive, you won't believe what Raph's just told me!" He pounded on the door of Donnie's lab with both fists, ignoring the 'hey!' that came from within. Darting over to the dojo, he slammed back the door revealing Leonardo in the midst of his kata, shooting Michelangelo a furious glare at the interruption.
Cackling, Michelangelo raced for the entertainment corner, strewn with empty pizza boxes, old bowls and plates bearing the remnants of past meals, soda cans and chip packets, DVD cases, resistance straps and a small barbell or two. Michelangelo leapt into the midst of the mess and began throwing things around in no particular order whilst his two brothers approached him with evil looks. They surveyed him in silence for a moment before Leonardo spoke:
"Mikey, what exactly are you doing?"
Michelangelo looked up from where he was jamming DVD cases into a space between two of the screens that sat against he wall. "Dudes! We totally gotta clean this joint up!"
Donatello raised an eyebrow ridge and his lip curved up in a half-smile. "I'm not sure that's the word I'd use for what you're doing, Mikey. However, dare I enquire as to what's prompted this miraculous and entirely unprecedented interest in cleanliness?"
Exasperated, Mikey whirled around to his brothers, throwing a cushion from the floor onto the sofa. "Guys! Would you quit talkin' and give me a hand here? Raph's bringin' a girl over!"
Donatello started whilst Leonardo stepped forward, disbelieving: "What?"
Michelangelo straightened from where he'd been bending over, arms filled with comics, barbells and a slinky. "That's what he said, Leo! I know as much as you do. Now, do you wanna be useful and wash these dishes up?"
Donatello had whipped out his cell and tried phoning. Now he snapped it shut and turned to Leonardo, who stood, fists clenched, and sighed: "He's not answering his cell."
"How can he do this?" Leonardo exploded, and his two brothers jumped. "How can be so thoughtless all the damn time? What the hell is he thinking?"
"Uhh," Michelangelo glanced at Donatello, then back to his older brother. "I dunno, Leo, he sounded kind of stressed out on the phone."
"And for that matter, why did he call you instead of me?" Leonardo rounded on Michelangelo who couldn't suppress a grin.
"Maybe cos he knew you'd act like this?"
Leonardo looked then as though he might fly right off the handle. Michelangelo yelped and ducked his head down, but then Leonardo shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, calming himself. Michelangelo laughed silently at Donatello, pointing a mocking finger at Leonardo's solemn, serene expression, but Donatello merely frowned back.
After a moment, Leonardo opened his eyes again and exhaled heavily.
"I can't wait to hear his explanation for this one." He said coolly.
He did not have to wait so long.
Within the half-hour, there was the familiar humming sound from the elevator, and the doors slid open revealing Raphael and another, strange, figure, supported by his arm.
Leonardo stiffened at the sound, but remained where he was, calmly sitting on the couch gazing ahead at the show that flickered across the screen. Donatello was at his fleet of computers, tapping quickly away but could not resist glancing around the monitors. Michelangelo leapt up eagerly, hanging over the back of the sofa for a look.
