Three barred cells—cages for humans—filled the concrete block room from end to end leaving only a small walkway against the wall. The hall was barricaded on both ends by heavy metal doors. A single narrow window by the ceiling let in the only light. A round clock ticked underneath.
Abby Siegel sat on a cot in the middle cell. She was the room’s only occupant. She didn’t move as the guards brought Xana through one of the doors and unlocked the closest cage. Xana stepped inside, her hands still cuffed in front of her. She looked at her neighbor through the greenish bars. Abby was slouching so low against the wall that her chin nearly touched her chest. She didn’t turn.
The barred door of the cell slid closed with a clatter, and Xana sat on the cot against the back wall.
Several minutes passed and neither woman spoke. Xana wondered why Abby was there. She wondered if being locked in a room with the reporter was part of her punishment, the first of many tortures. She wondered how long it would be before the American started talking. She broke the silence preemptively. “I was wrong. Before.”
“Hm?” Abby didn’t turn.
“I have worn a mask. Once. When I was a girl.”
“And?”
“I felt like I could be anything.”
Abby sat up. “I know, right?”
“You were wrong, too.”
“Oh?”
“When you said you don’t play by their rules. That’s exactly what you do. The only difference between you and them is that you’re bad at it and you got caught. That’s why you’re in Guyana. And in here.”
“Ha.” Abby liked the new Xana. “If I was wrong about anything, it was believing there are rules at all.”
“There are rules. Above even the laws of men.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you’re not gonna start witnessing to me, are you?”
Xana snorted. “No.” She took a deep breath and spoke softly. “I am not that good of a Christian.”
Abby leaned forward toward the bars and lowered her voice. “I’m pretty sure I can get us out of here. All we have to do—”
“No.” Xana was resolute. “I have made many bad choices, most of which came from listening to you.”
“But if we—”
“Please stop talking.”
“Don’t be stupi—”
“SHUT UP!” Xana stood and punched the bars with handcuffed fists. She was tired of Abby treating her like a schoolyard groupie. The row of cells shook. Dust dropped from the fixtures, which rocked on their wires.
Abby froze. She listened to the metal bars hum from the blow. She looked at the bare skin on Xana’s fingers, now red and swollen. She noticed the big woman had a blackened eye and a fat lip.
Xana sat back down. She felt guilty. She shouldn’t have gotten angry. She shouldn’t have opened her mouth. It was her fault. She had started it. She realized she was trying to punish the American, to show her that she was wrong, but that wasn’t Xana’s job. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness.
One of the heavy metal doors swung open and a guard walked in. It was the policeman from the junkyard, the lean bully with the thinning hair. He was a lighter-skinned Indo-Guyanese, like the McDooms. “What’s going on in here?”
He shut the door behind him. He was carrying a chair. He set it in front of Xana’s cage and sat down.
No one spoke.
The man leaned back and crossed his legs. He stared at Xana as if sizing her up.
She stared back through narrow eyes. If he tried anything, he would regret it.
“You can break those, you know.” He motioned to her handcuffs.
Xana looked down. The cuffs barely fit. They were digging into her skin.
“Just pull them apart to break the chain, then snap them off one at a time.”
Abby sat up. It was an odd thing for a policeman to say.
Xana looked skeptical.
The guard smirked. He looked at the door. “We have a few minutes. I thought maybe we could have a chat. Now seemed as good a time as any.” He paused. “Prophet sent me.”
Abby’s mouth opened. She stood but didn’t speak.
The guard didn’t take his eyes off Xana. “You do know who I’m talking about, right?”
She nodded.
The man looked to Abby, his silent observer, then back to Xana. “I’m going to make you an offer. You have sixty seconds to decide. Yes or no. If you say no, or nothing at all, I walk out that door and no one will ever contact you again.”
“And if she says yes?” Abby couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“That’s between me and her.” He turned back to the big woman. “But it starts by getting you out of here. Right now. And it ends with an American visa and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Take it, Xan.”
“Shut up,” Xana chided.
“The clock starts now.” The man looked at his watch.
Xana stared at the guard. “Will I have to do anything illegal?”
“Absolutely.”
“Violent?”
The policeman nodded. “Probably.”
She looked down.
The man leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I won’t pretend we’re the good guys, but I can promise you this. The people we’re gonna hit, they absolutely deserve it. You’ll see that clear as day. If you don’t agree, you walk. But no money and no visa unless the job is done.”
“I won’t kill anyone.”
“We’re not asking you to.”
“How do I know I can tru—”
“You don’t. And if I were you, I wouldn’t. You’re doing the right thing now. Question everything.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“That’s a difficult question to answer, and I’m not inclined to say in front of company.” He nodded to Abby. “Let’s just say I found myself in a similar situation facing a similar offer. Thirty seconds.”
“Jesus, Xan, don’t be stupid. Take it. At least if you get out of here, you get a chanc—”
“I asked you to please be quiet.” Xana took a deep breath. “How does it work?”
“Is that a yes?”
Xana looked down at her handcuffs. They hurt. She didn’t want to wear them anymore. She didn’t want to be chained or caged or manipulated. She didn’t want to rely on the kindness of family or suffer liars like Abby. And Renkist. She wanted to see her son. If only one more time, she wanted to hold AJ and tell him she loved him always.
Xana pulled her hands apart. After a brief snag, the chain snapped and she stood. “I want to see the visa ahead of time.”
The man nodded.
“I won’t kill anyone,” she repeated. She grabbed the block of one of her cuffs and twisted. She grunted and heaved and the crossbar snapped. She threw the cuff to the ground. Then she broke the other. She stepped forward to the cage door. “What about this?” She rattled it. “How will you get it open?”
The guard stood. “I won’t. You will.”
Xana looked down at the heavy metal bars.
“I doubt you can bend it, at least not enough to fit through. Try breaking the lock. Grab a bar on either side and pull.”
Xana nodded and did as she was told. She grabbed and pulled. She strained. Her face turned red. But there was nothing. She gasped and let go. “It’s too strong,” she panted.
“No, it’s not. Try again.”
“I can—”
“It’s the only way you’ll ever see your son again. Now try again,” the man was stern. “Do it for AJ.”
Xana stared at the officer. He was testing her, but he seemed like such a different person than the loud-mouthed bully from the junkyard. He was calm, patient. “I guess you know a lot about me.”
“Yes, we do.”
Xana looked again at the cage door. For AJ, she thought. She wrapped her hands around the bars. She spread her legs and squatted to get better leverage. She took a deep breath and held it. She pulled. She pulled and pulled. Her face tilted to the sky and turned red. Her neck strained. Her jaw strained. Her arms shook—first a little, then a lot. Metal groaned. She let out a yell.
Snap.
The lock cracked and the cage door flew back along its track and crashed against its cradle. Abby gasped and stepped back.
Xana doubled over and put her arms on her knees, palms up. Her chest heaved in labored breaths. She couldn’t believe it. Her hands stung. They were red and throbbing. Her fingers tingled and twitched uncontrollably. It felt like she’d almost torn her skin loose from her bones. But the door was open.
The noise raised the alarm in the next room. There was yelling. Xana looked nervous.
“Do mine now,” Abby said.
“Wait here a minute.” The guard moved to the door.
“But,” Xana panted, “there are half a dozen men out there.”
The policeman turned and looked at the clock on the wall. “In that case, wait here for twenty-six seconds.” He opened the door, walked through, and shut it behind him.
With her arms still on her knees, Xana turned to Abby.
“Do mine,” Abby repeated. “Quick.”
Yelling. A clatter. Overlapping screams. A gunshot. More clatter. The sound of a desk crashing. Broken glass. A second shot. A third. More screams. A rolling crash. A muffled plea. A thump.
Silence.
The door opened again and the thin-haired guard motioned Xana through.
“You can’t just leave me here!” Abby called.
Xana turned. “But this is where you belong.”
“Jail?” The reporter was incredulous.
“Guyana.”
“Same difference!”
But Xana was already out the door.
“What happens if we get stopped?” Xana threw her luggage into the back of an old covered pickup. Everything was happening so quickly. She had twisted the padlock off the shed behind her old school. She hoped Sister Rosa would forgive her. She had hoped to say goodbye, but her new friend had made her wait until no one was around. He wasn’t much for conversation.
“I’m a policeman. That should be enough.”
Xana climbed in after her bags and he shut the back behind her. It was hot under the hard plastic cover, and it stank of fish and oily rags, but there was no other option. She had to stay out of sight. She was hard to miss.
The front seat creaked as the officer sat behind the wheel. He opened the little window that connected the cab to the back of the truck. “Settle in. Keep your head down.”
“But how will you get me out of the country?”
The truck started. It was loud and the man had to raise his voice. “We have a little plane waiting at a jungle strip a couple hours from here. We’ll fly low over the back country, land in Suriname. We’ll head out through there. Our handler will fake some entry records so we can leave through the airport, no problem. Trust me. I’ve been through Suriname before. Not exactly the world’s tightest security.”
“Handler?” Xana had to raise her voice as well.
The engine sputtered as the truck moved down the road.
“Yeah. Prophet never makes an appearance. I couldn’t tell you what he looks like. Everything comes through Wink. Or the computer.”
“Wink? What’s a wink?”
The guard chuckled. “You’re just gonna have to meet her. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I don’t like it when you say things like that.”
“It’s not a secret. You’ll see. You’re gonna see a lot of things, actually. Starting when we get to the airstrip. Things you won’t want to believe right away. Think you can handle it?”
“I believe that a man who walked on water also rose from the dead, and through that act, saved all of mankind. Nothing you can show me is more amazing than that.”
“Yeah.” The guard smiled. “Maybe. You might want to see it before you make a promise like that.”
Xana frowned. “You never told me your name.”
But the man shook his head as he drove. “Nuh uh. No introductions. Not yet.”
“Why not yet?”
“Because this isn’t me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
He turned back for a moment. “You’ll see.”
Xana scowled. He was teasing her.
“Also, we’ll need to take some pictures.”
“Of what?”
The guard laughed. “Of you. Your face for the paperwork and your body for the rest.”
“I’m not getting naked.”
“Good!”
Xana got embarrassed. “Why?” She looked at her hands again. They were still swollen and speckled in subcutaneous bleeding.
“Look, this isn’t gonna work if you need a full explanation every time we have to do something. We got a couple hours on the road. You should decide if you’re with the program or not. Completely and in full.”
“You said I should ask questions.”
“No. I said you should question everything. There’s a difference.”
Xana was silent as the truck bounced over the dirt. She pulled out her picture of baby AJ. His cheeks were so fat. She smiled at it. Behind it was the picture Sister Rosa had given her. “What if I changed my mind?”
“Then I’ll wish you good luck and you’ll never hear from us again.” He paused. “Why? Having second thoughts about driving to God-knows-where with a man you never met?”
Xana made a face. “Maybe.” It was all happening so quickly.
The truck pulled to the side of the road and stopped. The engine idled in park.
The guard motioned to the door. “Go on.”
Xana turned and looked out the windshield. They were just down the road from the village of McDoom. She stared out the dirty window for several long moments. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered.
The man nodded.
Xana looked at the picture of AJ in her hand. “If I stay here, people will die. Because of me. I’ll end up in prison. Or worse.”
“That’s tough.”
“But I’ve never left Guyana.”
“Big world. Lots to see.”
Xana nodded. She could tell he was being very patient with her, probably more than she deserved. “I’d like to believe this is a chance, that maybe I could see my son one day, but . . .” Xana turned to look at the man’s face. She could only see it from the side, but there was something about it, about his eyes, something unusual.
“But?”
“People say I’m too trusting.”
The policeman snorted.
Xana scowled again. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No, no.” The man shook his head. “Not at all. It’s just . . . people say that I’m not trusting enough.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that.
“You can’t be anyone but who you are. Neither of us can.”
Xana nodded. That’s what Sister Rosa had taught her. But it wasn’t always easy. She thought about her old teacher. She vowed to write the nun a letter as soon as she could. Oja, too. “So what does that make us?”
The man turned to face her. He stuck his hand through the little window. “A good team?”
Xana looked at the open palm. She took it gently. Her hand swallowed his. “When I prayed for a way out, this isn’t what I imagined.”
“Is it ever?”
“No.” Xana smiled wide. “God is so mysterious.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“You do not believe?”
“Is that a problem?”
Xana thought for a moment. “I suppose not.”
The policeman turned back around. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the pictures thing. I just thought you should know ahead of time. They’re for Wink.” He put the car in drive and pulled away. Everything was noisy again. “I’d say she’s ‘good with tech,’ but that’s like saying Mozart was ‘good with music.’ She’s got an exoframe designed for you. She needs your exact dimensions to fabricate it. She wants to have it ready before we get to the States.”
Xana’s face was blank. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s like a brace. You know, a splint? Only it’s made of some composite material like they use in next-gen air frames. Fighter jets. It goes along your limbs, down your spine. She seems to think your bones are a limiting factor. She likes to talk.” The man smiled and turned back his passenger. “A lot.”
“That can be very annoying.” Xana thought about Abby. She hoped she hadn’t done the wrong thing by leaving the woman in jail.
“Big time.” The man shook his head. “But I’ll say this. If Wink doesn’t know, that means there’s not a single person on this planet who has any idea just how strong you can be. Including you. And if what you did back there is just the beginning . . .” He shook his head. “Boggles the mind.”
Xana looked at her hands again. “You should know, I’m not much of a fighter.”
The man laughed hard. “That’s not what I saw.”
“That was different.”
“In a former life I made a living picking the fighters from a bunch of applicant-bullies. Trust me. You got it where it counts. I wouldn’t have busted you out otherwise.”
“It feels like this was all a test.”
“Who said it wasn’t?”
Xana smirked. “Fine. But if I’m going to fight, I have a condition.”
“Alright.” The man nodded as the truck bounced.
“I want to wear a mask. So that my son will never know.”
The man smiled. “Bullet-proof. Rebreather. Radio. Heads-up display. Computer downlink. It’s more like a helmet than a mask, but you can paint it however you want. You want to put racing stripes on it, be my guest.”
“I had something else in mind.”
“That reminds me.” He reached under the seat and produced a tablet computer. “Here.” He pushed it through the window. “I loaded some reading material. For now and for the flight. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
Xana touched the screen and the symbol appeared, the one on the containers in the warehouse. Three circles connected in the center by three lines. Underneath was a countdown. Thirty-six days and ticking fast. “What does it mean?”
A phone beeped. The policeman pulled it from his pocket. “Message.”
“From?” Xana was nervous.
He read in silence. “Plane’s ready, and we’re booked on a flight out of Suriname, but there’s been a change of plans.”
“Change? What change? I can’t go bac—”
“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal. Prophet got a new hit, that’s all.”
“Hit?”
“Search algorithm. I was supposed to go to New York, talk to a chef.”
“A chef?”
The man nodded. “Don’t worry. Deal’s off. That was always a long shot, anyway. He’s not exactly a team player. Now it looks like we’re both heading to Seattle.”
“Seattle?”
“West coast, up near Canada.”
“I know where it is. But what’s there?”
“A young man with a big problem.”
[end episode two]