Part IV
Dellis was last seen on the east side of the city with a prostitute, headed north.
"I need a favor," behind dark glasses the man spoke into the phone the moment he heard an answer.
"Man, its four in the morning," the man on the line croaked roughly. Auggie know he should have felt guilty about his abrupt call, but whether or not he had forgotten his braille watch back in DC, he was in this too deep already to think much about it. "And do you have any idea how much we're already covering for you?"
Auggie breathed in deeply. He knew too well this mission he'd set out on by himself was stupid and risky on its best day, but that message he'd received, the proof that Annie was out there somewhere, alive, it made all the risk worth it. "You know why I'm here Eric. Its not just for me."
The man on the other line sighed heavily, and Auggie sprouted the first genuine smile in over six months at the success. "I need you to get me a photo of Annie, but change her hair to a dark brown, maybe a few variations of it."
"How do you know she's brunette?"
Auggie didn't answer. "Also I need you to ship that package I left with you to the exact destination I left you instructions for."
"Any chance you'll be able to tell me where exactly this package is going or where you are?"
"Just email me those pictures as soon as you can. I'll keep you updated…"
"Auggie," Barber's voice cut him off before he was finished. Both men and both ends of the conversation went quiet for a moment. "How long were you with her before this happened?"
The blind man didn't want to answer the question, but he knew in the tone of which it was delivered this wasn't a question of one colleague asking another. This was one friend trying to help another, and despite the bubbling rot that seemed to constantly be growing in his chest these past six months, he knew this was a bridge he needed, not one he was ready to burn down.
"What if she doesn't want to be found?" The DC-based tech op asked again, this time successfully catching the other man by surprise.
What if she doesn't want to be found? That question echoed deep inside his head and he felt it reverberate off his bones and veins, leaving his body in a strange sensation of numbness. What if she didn't want him to find her? What if every time he got closer to her, she was purposely sabotaging his efforts to avoid being found? What if when or if he did find her one day, in a way he wouldn't stop at even Earth's end to do, she rejected him?
"Then I need to get a message to her that she needs to find me."
"Fine," the DC based man finally gave in with a hint of pity. Ordinarily Auggie Anderson would reject even any hint of the word, but he was past the point of pushing away pity or help. If he was going to bring back the woman he thought dead for half a year, he was going to use any and all aid thrown his way. He could fix his ego later.
"Just promise me something, man," Eric added one last time before his blind friend had a chance to drop a call. Faintly in the background, a low 'ding' announced the arrival of Auggie's requested images. "Find her, bring her back, and marry her so I can get the whole story one day."
Auggie didn't even reply to the request before closing the phone, but the sly look that passed his expression for a moment made obvious that he'd heard, and at least partially appreciated the request.
Auggie heard someone approach his table then and place what he assumed was a bill on his table, so he called them out before they had a chance to walk away.
"Excuse me," his voice carried evenly and loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone who understood any English in the area. "English?" He asked loudly again and hoping he had at least gotten the attention of the waitress who had previously served him. He wasn't fluent in the medley of languages he was picking up in the area, but he knew enough bits and pieces to know this area bordered a town that was very low income, and where Alexandre Dellis had last been seen.
"I speak English very little," a small voice replied just to Auggie's right. Without hesitation, the blind man put on his charming smile as he attempted to face the small voice to the best of his ability.
"That's ok, I was just hoping you could help me a moment." He pulled the phone he had just prepared to slip back into his pocket out and flipped it open to his new message. He sincerely hoped Barber had only sent pictures and nothing else because his current phone was not well equipped for the visually impaired. "I'm looking for a woman," he spoke a little lower as he showed her the picture. He couldn't see it, but he listened to the silence of the woman and scrunching of her stiff apron fabric as she leaned into the image for better inspection. "She's thin, brown hair, I think she has brown eyes and she speaks more than language."
There was silence a moment more before the young woman finally frowned backing away.
"We not promote prostitutes here. If you looking for…"
Auggie cocked an eyebrow. Her cover was a prostitute. "No, no," he said quickly before the waitress had a chance to flea. "I'm not looking to hire, she's a friend, and she needs help. Please, I need to find her." He listened closely, trying to pinpoint the waitress response. He listened for an audible response, or footsteps as she walked away, but above the slight hum of the small square's population walking about, he couldn't hear anything. She was watching the picture again, trying to decide if there was a vague resemblance in the woman in the picture to a particular young girl she had met three days ago.
"I think I see her, but she very different," the young woman finally answered.
Auggie felt his heart jump into his throat. She was here. "How?" he was careful with his words while his mind was stumbling over his own thoughts.
"I...I think I see girl with blue eyes…" the young woman was quiet again, but her tone left Auggie leaning into her voice expecting the remainder of her sentence. "And she much thinner, but it look like her a little bit."
"Do you know where I can find her?" he responded with a calmness that masked the pounding of his heart.
"You go ask Malina, she would know. She working today, so if you wait, I get her." The man listened closely to the young woman's fading footsteps as she walked away leaving him alone and with only his thoughts and the light hum of the background to occupy him.
She was here. He could barely process the information. A week ago he was in a dark and deserted corner of his mind he'd only experienced after coming back from war with once less sense. Today, he was sitting in a town that the woman he loved and thought dead for six months had walked by only days ago. He was getting closer.
Footsteps started coming closer, and Auggie Anderson brought out his charming smile instinctively. Just as the steps approached him however, he immediately noticed the feet were heavier and a much different pattern than the woman's with whom he had just been speaking. He opened his mouth to speak, sensing someone close when an arm roughly grabbed him just below the shoulder and he stumbled to hoist himself to his own feet in a hurry. Before he had the opportunity to question his forceful companion he felt something small and very distinctive pressed roughly into his ribs, and he remained silent as the other person pulled him roughly and at an uncomfortable speed down streets and corners that were lost to the sightless man.
one week later
Deep inside the dirty peeling walls of a motel, a woman attempted to cover her biggest internal scars and fears in the warm mist of a calcium-stained shower stall. She wished, even prayed in a way, that the hot stream could melt her down into goo thin enough to escape down the shower drain. It could not, however, and instead the only materials swirling down that grate was a mixture of mud, dirty, and fresh and dried blood that peeled away as she scrubbed her raw skin pink with a scratchy sponge. She wanted to cry, scream away the pain until her vocal cords were torn apart like broken guitar strings. She wanted to scrub away her raw skin until it peeled away like the old wallpaper and paint of this motel room. She wanted to fill the tub and just let herself drown in it...but it would be too easy, and she was getting closer.
Closer. What did closer even entail? She was always feeling closer to one destination or one goal and farther from the other. She thought she was closer when she took out Dellis and then Silva last night...but it was all a setup. Dellis knew about as much information as the waitress three floors down, and the only thing he got her closer to was Silva, who was a dead end on his own. He didn't speak, not even one bit of useful information, and the moment he had a chance, he put a bullet in his brain, leaving the faux brunette in a hotel room now saturated in a traitor's remains and a multitude of technology and documentation she could only scratch the surface of.
So now she was in this run-down, pay-by-the-hour motel with a stolen vehicle, stolen hard drive she couldn't access, and a cardboard box of paper that to her untrained eyes may as well be gibberish. She didn't feel closer at all. Now, she felt the opposite; she felt like she was taking one step forward to be pushed two steps back, and she only hoped she didn't back up off the edge of this plank she walked or she would be too far to ever get back.
Back. She didn't want to go back, she fantasized about going back. She fantasized about replacing this trashy motel room for a high-class hotel room in an exotic city banked by the beach. She fantasized about replacing the swirling pool of dry blood and filth building at the bottom of the cracked tub floor with the floral, fragrant smells and colors of exotic bath salts and soaps that filled the sticky air in warm aromas and swirled at the bottom of a white, porcelain tub. And that raw, red and purple gash cutting over her collarbone, she could fantasize that battle scar being replaced with an entirely different kind of bruise, one made with moans and kisses and sweet nothings whispered in her ears as he let her melt into his hands. She fantasized about him because that was the only thing keeping her together when she felt like every step closer was sending her two steps back and farther away from turning those fantasies into realities.
Wincing as she let the now cooling water run over the fresh and blistering gash over her collarbone, she finally turned off the faucet and gingerly stepped out of the stained shower tub. The hot and humid air of the bathroom fogged all the glass and cool metal around her as she wrapped a stiff towel around her bruised ribs and stepped towards the mirror. Wiping off the condensation built on the surface of the reflective glass, she frowned at the stranger that stared back at her. A year ago she lived and worked in the capital of the United States, wore a nice suit to work everyday, had a closet of first class shoes and dresses, purses and other frivolous, expensive goods, and she wore these things with pride and a little glee. This stranger that stared back at her however, with the dull brown dye coloring her hair, scrapes and bruises covering her skin, and pale, pasty skin that sunk under malnourished bones and thin muscles didn't even represent a fragment of the poised and beautiful woman she took for granted back then.
The nameless woman sighed heavily as she stared at her reflection when a sound caught her attention. Her vision snapped to the closed door of the bathroom, narrowing as all else around her faded, and all other sounds silenced except the strange noise that had caught her attention.
Footsteps.
The dark-haired woman glanced to the corner of the room where her only personal bag, and concealed gun lay on a nonfunctional heater. Without even the wait of her footsteps breaking the silence of the room, she made her way to the bag and withdrew her only weapon. Poised with the gun aimed, she faced back at the door, listening to the footsteps a third time. She felt her heart rate slow, and the world blur as she aimed for the door, ready to attack her intruder. With a held breath and one strong kick, the door split on its closer as the force of her powerful kick blew it open on its rickety old hinges. Someone collapsed to the floor, a body dashed to the side of her aim, and she readied to pull the trigger of her weapon before the splinters settled when she froze in her spot in a way she never did so professionally ready to take down an opponent.
Because it wasn't an opponent at all. In fact, she recognized the curls and scruffy unshaven face of the man before her.
"Teo?" Her scratchy voice rose out from the depths of her vocal cords in a strange mix between a whisper and a shout. The Latin man stared back at her with a similar expression on his face. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"The same thing you are," he replied back bluntly with big eyes and the characteristic Colombian accent. His eyes narrowed slightly as if a puzzle were being pieced together before his eyes as he connected the metaphorical dots of this woman's harsh appearance and the intel he'd gathered over the past week. "You're not dead."
Her facial expression didn't even falter. "As dead as you are," her reply was just as emotionless as the master spy before her. "I'm dark. I can count the number of people who know I'm still breathing in one had."
"Well you may need to recount that number," he replied much quieter this time. The woman didn't change any expression or physical feature at the response, but deep inside her sore body she felt a pull of fear tug at her soul. "You're boyfriend is looking for you, and he's getting close."
Author's Note:
Ok, show of hands: how many of you thought this was Auggie barging in on her?
*evil laugh* Truth be told, the thought didn't even hit me until I was proofreading it and thought "Oh my God, they're going to think this is the big epic reunion and Annie's all battered and bruised and naked in a towel in some crappy motel room."
Come on, have a little more faith in me. ;) I promise, Annie and Auggie's reunion will be more expected, a little heartbreaking, and absolutely beautiful. Their reunion comes with promises, tears, anger, and finally the long waited for kiss that leaves them breathless. (And a phone call, which is personally one of my favorite parts.)
And if the reunion doesn't put a fireworks show to shame (like my most awesome review I got from a guest the other day) the epilogue will. I promise, the ending will make everything these two are suffering through worth it.
Oh, and random factoid: Google chrome kept changing "Teo" to "Toe" so I hope I caught all the changes, lol.
Please leave love and reviews!
- Liz