Deacon
Of all the people she could’ve known. Of all the names she could’ve said. When the word “Drazen” left her lips, I froze. Everything I’d spent the past eleven months fighting to forget came flooding back. There’s Grace. And then there’s Fiona. And those worlds can’t intertwine. They just can’t.
I don’t have time to process my reaction to what just happened. It’s eight o’clock. I have a meeting with some radicals in an hour. If everything goes as planned, in an hour and ten minutes, they’ll have learned exactly who they’re dealing with, and I’ll be on my way back to the lodge with David.
***
Grace is on her way back to her room, and I’m on my way to an abandoned church outside of the city. Most of the thirty-minute drive, I curse myself for letting the night end the way it did. Once David is safe, and I’ve taken care of business, I’ll find Grace and make amends. But right now, I have to focus on him. This is the gritty part of my job, the necessary evil. This is where being the man in charge means being the man with no conscious.
The photojournalists on my team know what they’re getting into when they sign on the dotted line. They know the assignments are risky, but that’s what makes them worth the risk. So, when something like this happens to one of them, I don’t stop until they’re tucked safely in the warmth of their own bed.
The narrow, gravel road seems to go on for miles in the moonlight. When I finally reach the old, stone building, the cross on the steeple peers down at me in its desecrated state, as if it knows what’s about to happen and has suffered great pain because of it.
A black SUV makes the curve in the road just before the driveway, killing its headlights as it makes the turn. A tall man, much taller than I am, gets out of the passenger side.
After I met with Johannes and confirmed the announcement of military presence, I sent a message to the radicals.
You want action? Keep an eye on the news. Then meet me at 9:00 at the abandoned church off N1. Bring my man.
I wait in the darkness of my own SUV, letting him take a few steps more before I make my presence known. The sound of crushed rock and dirt under the soles of designer shoes grows louder with each step he takes. I glance up at the cross and make my apologies for what I’m about to do. Then I open the driver’s side door and walk to the tail end of my vehicle, about ten feet from where he stopped.
“My leader appreciates your effort to allow our voices to be heard,” he says, his voice thick with a foreboding that might intimidate a weaker man.
“You did as I asked?” I don’t need his thanks. I just need his word.
His face is shadowed by the darkness, only certain features illuminated by the light of the moon. But I catch the movement as he nods toward the SUV he pulled up in, then lifts a hand, motioning to the driver. Or another passenger. I have no idea how many people are in there. And the lack of that knowledge doesn’t distract me one bit. A rear door opens, and David climbs out of the vehicle. I exhale a sigh of relief that he’s able to walk on his own. I’ve seen what these types of people can do when they’re backed into a corner, and it’s a hell of a lot worse than a black eye. As much as I want to meet David halfway, to let him rest his tired weight on my shoulders and help him get to my truck, I stand my ground.
He limps, the gravel driveway dragging and spitting up a cloud of dust as he pulls his ankle with every step. The tall man doesn’t offer him any help as he passes. The driver never turns on his headlights to light the way for him. And with each scrape of the rocks, my anger builds. He finally reaches my tailgate, and his body collapses against the combination of steel and glass. The tall man turns to go back to his SUV.
“Don’t move,” I tell David. Not that I thought he would even be able to at this point. The man can barely see, faintly breathe, hardly walk. I think of Grace. And how she would react to seeing him like this. How desperate she’d be to help him. How much it would pain her to see him so broken. And I know she’d want to fix him. I know she will want to fix him the moment she sees him. But I can’t ask her to do that. I won’t ask her to do that. As a matter of fact, I will do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t see him. So, she won’t have to hurt for him. So, she won’t have to see what I see, feel what I feel.
Am I even going to see her again? Can I walk back into that world?
The loud slam of a car door clears my thoughts, bringing me back to the here and now. I have to finish what I came here for. With no headlights to alert them of my closeness, I approach the driver’s side door and give the window a light tap. The faint sound of a motor breaks the silence as the window lowers, revealing a set of bright green eyes peering out at me. I check the backseat for a third passenger, relieved when I find it empty.
In all of ten seconds, I reach through the open window with one hand, crushing his throat then chopping the side of his neck, rendering him helpless and out of breath. With my other hand, I grab the gun from my waist and point it at the tall guy, forcing him helpless.
“My turn to send a message.”
***
I left the men who took David kneeling on the steps of the old church. Since they seemed to be so fond of quoting the Bible, I thought they’d appreciate properly asking God for forgiveness. And I just happen to be the right guy to arrange that meeting. With their hands tied behind their backs and their heads bowed, I gave them thirty seconds to make their pleas to a higher power before I put a bullet in the back of their skulls.
To some, what I do may seem barbaric. But those men weren’t going to stop at David. They have a message they want to send. So, if taking two lives saves ten, then that’s what I’ll do.
“Can I call my wife?” David asks, his arm draped over my shoulders as I carry him to his room when we get back to the lodge. He didn’t speak a word the whole ride here. He just rested his head against the back of the leather seat and sobbed. I don’t want to even imagine the horror he’s lived through for the past three weeks, the things he’s seen, the things they did. His jeans are ripped at the knees where dried blood covers broken flesh full of tiny fragments of asphalt and dirt. The tips of his fingers are bloody and bruised like he’d been trying to force a way out of a box… or through a door… that wasn’t meant to be opened. And his ankle is swollen and discolored, and he groans the moment he puts any weight on it.
“Of course. As soon as we get you cleaned up.” I reach into my back pocket for the room key and swipe it across the black magnetic pad on the door. I turn the knob, and my shoulder nudges the heavy door open as I pull him into the dark room. He tenses under my grip, so I hurry and flick the switch, filling the room with the soft light of two floor lamps.
“No,” he says, immediately. “Now. I need to hear her voice.”
As if he’s been poisoned and her voice is the anti-venom, there’s a desperation in his tone. I lead him to the bed and guide him down gently. “Okay. Call first. Shower later.” I take my cell phone from my coat pocket and scroll my recents until I find her number. It’s fourth on the list. And that was two days ago. Right after my meeting, when I knew one way or another I’d get her husband back.
I open the curtains and look out into the courtyard, giving them as much privacy as possible right now. I’m not leaving him alone until I know he’s not seriously wounded and that the wounds he does have are properly cleaned and treated. Across the pool, past full green leaves and colorful wildflowers, through the open curtains of a sliding glass door, long dark hair falls down the back of a curvy silhouette. She walks across the room, her plaid pajamas hanging loosely over her frame, and clicks off the lamp. I wonder if she sees me when she comes back to close the curtains. If she feels me watching.
Do I want her to see me? I should just let it go. I should just let her go.
I think about the darkness. I remember how Fiona felt when I had to leave her for weeks at a time. And I remember the pain in David’s wife’s voice every time she would call for an update. And I know I would never put anyone through that. I would never bring anyone into this world.
Then I look at David as he talks to his wife, tears falling from his good eye. His voice shakes with delight as her sweet voice reminds him of what kept him fighting to be free. And I wonder what it must be like to have someone. Someone you can’t wait another single second to talk to. Someone to bring you light when you’ve spent so much time in that darkness. Someone worth fighting for.
***
I tell myself I’m on the N2 driving through the city because I need medical supplies for David. That I’m on my way to the hospital to make a donation. That seeing the conditions of so many underprivileged people made me realize that while I can’t be like Grace and throw on a stethoscope and a white coat, I can make a contribution. I can help them purchase the things they need. Every little bit helps, right? That’s what I tell myself.
But the truth is, I want to see her. I’m not going to explain my reaction to her connection to my past. That’s not something she needs to know. It doesn’t even matter. But I do need to apologize for being an ass when she did nothing to deserve it.
Dawie greets me with a smile as soon as I walk through the door, making me feel like an old friend who belongs here.
“Ready to help again so soon?”
I glance down at my navy-blue tie and dress pants then back at him. “Something like that, yes.”
“You’ll actually have to fill out the form this time,” he says with a laugh that reflects in his bright brown eyes.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a donation.”
He notes my appearance, and his smile grows. “Well, that’s above my pay grade. But I can direct you to the right woman.”
That’s why I’m here.
He makes a call from the phone behind a nearby desk while I process the solemnness of the waiting room. Mothers with crying infants. Children with pale skin and sunken cheeks from undernourishment. Elderly men and women with uncontrollable shaking or coughs. And I realize that I spent the night thinking I had to protect Grace from the things I see, to hide the true face of the world from her. But she faces it every single day. Head on. With a smile. And a determination to make it better. The darkness hasn’t claimed her. It motivates her.
“We’re really going to miss your friend,” Dawie says, as he places the phone back on the charging dock. “The doctor you assisted the other day.”
“Miss her?” What’s he talking about? What happened to Grace?
“You didn’t know?”
“Know what?” I feel the heat rising in my bloodstream at the thought of someone hurting her.
“She left this morning. Went back home. I’m sorry. I assumed you were close. I thought you knew.”
My temperature cools. She’s not hurt. Thank fuck. But she is gone. Without as much as a goodbye. Not that I deserved one after last night. It’s not like I gave her a chance to tell me she was leaving. My quest to save David is over. Johan is healing fine. The Ambassador has finally decided to do something about the unrest. Time is finally on my side. And the one woman I wanted to spend it with is gone with no promise that I’ll ever see her again.