plate. Unsuccessful, she snuck another peek at her dining
partner. Looking up through veiled eyelashes, she could see as him as
clearly as if she had raised her head up. He was angry.
Furious even, but he was hiding it well. If he hadn’t been glaring at
her like a cockroach in a Napoleon she might have almost
thought he’d get over it. One day, not today though; that’d be too much
to ask from anyone. Still . . . she was half way
tempted to try to say something. Anything, just to make some noise to
help cover the deafening silence that had taken over the
hotel room.
     Raising her head to speak a dark scowl sent her back to staring at
her dinner plate. *This is ridiculous,* Malana thought to
herself, a scowl as intense as her husband’s focused on the steamed,
limp broccoli sitting on her plate. She took a stab at a
particularly mocking piece. It slipped off her fork and remain stuck to
the plate.*I’m sitting her with the man who’s supposed
to be my equal, cowering like some underling. And for what? You’d think
I’d killed someone.*Malana picked at the piece,
putting all her pent up anger into mutilating the innocent
yellowish-green vegetable. *It’s not like I was breaking a law or
anything . . .* A particularly vicious stab severed the deranged stem,
finishing it off.
     She hadn’t done anything that deserved this kind of treatment. It’s
not like she’d committed some kind of crime, or at least
not one punishable by law. And she hadn’t been wrong! Well, maybe; if
she was completely honest with herself; what she’d
done was a little bit wrong. And a little underhanded, but still . . .
     “Hadji,” Malana said suddenly, fed up with this. Not taking her
eyes off the plate she waited it for a response. Only silence
answered, but Malana could practically hear the wheels in her husbands
head turning as he fumed at her. She could picture his
face too; the furrow lines at his brow, the slight downward turn of his
mouth, the tightened quality of his jaw. “Hadji, we should
talk about this.” Malana could feel the heat of his eyes as they drilled
twin holes in her forehead. *Or not,* she added
miserably to herself. It had only been a month since she’d had her last
baby and she still felt emotional at times. If she’d actually
been looking at him she might have cried, but as she wasn’t Malana was
able to keep her hormones in check. Mostly. Her lip
trembled and she bit it with the same fever she’d used on the decimated
broccoli. She couldn’t wait until her body was back to
normal and she could control herself.
     But even when she was fine she hated it when he was mad at her.
This was different though. He wasn’t mad at her, he was
furious. In fact she hadn’t seen him this angry at her since the first
time they met. She remembered that. She’d been in college
and had just-
     “What do you have to say?” Malana blinked and her head snapped up
at the sound of his voice, closed and cold.
     “Excuse me?” she asked, eyes wide and startled like a doe’s.
     “You said we should talk,” he said calmly, his strong hands knotted
together as he looked at her with those depth less
eyes.     “What do you have to say?”
     *Oh Hadji . . . * Malana’s mind reeled at the list. *More than you
could ever guess, my love. So much more . . .* Her
body felt heavy with an unseen weight and she sighed tiredly.
     “Well . . .” *Where do I start?* She raised her head to look him
straight in the eye. Cool brown gazed back at her with a
false carelessness.  “I’m sorry.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

    *Changing the subject, Jessica?* Bryne studied her for a minuted,
than nodded at her. Pulling off his shirt with an easy tug,
he casually shook his hair out to show he was willing to drop the
subject. If she didn’t want to talk about it any more, they
didn’t have to talk about it any more right now. He’d remind her about
this later, they could continue the conversation on the
way home just as easily as here. But if she thought the matter was
dropped altogether, she definitely had another thing coming
to her.
     Reaching for his boot, Bryne tugged at it for a minute. When it
didn’t give, he sat and began to untie the laces one at a time.
At his side, Jessie started in on her shoes as well, fighting with the
tangled strings, really though, strings wasn’t accurate. More
like tatters, considering the condition of the shoelaces, or what was
left of them. Bits of briar looking plant stuck in various
parts, hanging on and sitting, waiting to jab a careless finger. Bryne’s
laces hadn’t faired much better, the top half came off in
his hand as he tried to undo the double knot. Holding it at eye level
Bryne examined it. Not impressive looking, the scraggly
thing hung limply. With a shrug he tossed it, earning him a glare from
Jessie.
     “Do you always do that?” she demanded, scowling.
     “What?” Bryne asked, working on the other shoe. Jessie made a face
at him.
     “What do you think?”
     “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”  Off came the boot with a final
tug. His socks followed shortly after. A sound of disgust
came from Jessie’s general direction.
     “You’re so annoying,” she informed him scathingly.
     Bryne looked up at her to retort- *Look who’s talking, Bannon* and
stopped, mouth still open.
     “What?” she demanded, looking at him over her shoulder as she
wasn’t turned toward him. Bryne shook his head and
looked back at his feet to the hem of his pants, pretending to be
engrossed with the fabric. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten shy all
of a sudden,” she snorted, disbelieving as she stood to face him and
planted her hands firmly on her hips. That was the only
thing on her hips, which was part of the reason Bryne had stopped.
     “Nope,” he responded curtly, forcing himself just to turn away from
her, and stood. Reaching down he undid his zipper and
discarded his pants, giving pause before tossing his shorts as well. The
articles landed with a faint puffing of air in a pile to his
right. Not far off sat his shoes. Through the trees a soft breeze blew,
bringing up goose bumps on his bare flesh. Having
hesitated long enough, Bryne walked over to the shore and waded into the
water.
     He was pleasantly surprised by the temperature; it was cool enough
to be refreshing but warm enough to let you stay in for
a while. Moving forward he continued in until he was covered just over
his belly button. From his side Bryne could hear Jessie
moving around in the water  as well. He watched as her movements made
the water ripple around him, but did not look her
way. He stayed where he was and facing away from her, Bryne cupped
handfuls of water over himself. Rubbing vigorously at
patches of dirt and mud, he used his nails to try and scratch off
various substances that insisted on sticking to his skin. He made
a face as he encountered a particularly unpleasant spot of gunk and
tried to get it off.
     “You’re so strange.” Bryne continued to wash up.
     “I thought I was annoying,” he replied nonchalantly, examining his
elbow for dirt.
     “You are, but you’re more strange.”
     “Oh?” he asked, picking a stray leaf off his chest and tossing it
back to the water. It floated away.
     “You’re not going to look up, are you?” she asked. Bryne ran a hand
through his wet hair.
     “Nope.” He dunked himself to finish up his bath.
     “Well fine,” Jessie said to the spot where he had been standing.
************************************************************************************************

                                                         8:17pm

     “That’s great Dennis, thanks.” Myshell felt a strange warmth spread
through her chest as she put down the phone, letting the
extension click in its cradle. Reaching past it and around all the other
junk littering her desk, she reached for a note pad and
pen. For the first time that month, things were finally looking all
right. Harvey had found Jessica, healthy and intact, if a bit
cranky. They had met up with Estella, Jessica’s mother, and were all
flying back to New York even as she sat there. It was a
good thing too, a lot had been happening within Vertutech since she had
been kidnapped. Nothing Myshell and the partners
couldn’t take care of, they weren’t total incapable morons, but there
was a reason Jessica was in charge of everything.
     Scribbling down the flight times and wind current direction and gas
milage, Myshell did a quick mathematical calculation to
figure out their arrival time. Twelve or so hours, exactly what Dennis
had told her. *Well, I guess the flight official’s aloud to be
right every once and a while,* she grumbled to herself. Myshell crumpled
up the piece of looseleaf and threw it at the garbage.
It missed completely, landing in the potted plant near the window. *But
if he keeps this up, he’s going to throw me totally off.*
With a heavy plop Myshell sat down in her big rolly chair. Languidly she
stretched out a leg and used it to push away from the
wooden desk. The chair rolled easily away, gliding against the smooth
wood floor, bringing her away from the piles of tasks
and papers marked in bold, red letters.
     There was so much work to do before Jessie got back, not that it
compared to the amount there would be once she had
actually got back to work. The thought was daunting what with the dozens
of reports to prepare on what had been happening,
files on project completions and deadlines, new approval sheets on
designs, stock numbers, monthly biddings . . . a mountain
of paperwork, but right now Myshell didn’t feel like doing any of that.
All she felt like doing was sitting down in front of a big
clock and watching away the time until she got home.
     There would be plenty of time when Jessie got back to inundate her
with files, the minute she stepped off the plane was not
the time to jump her. At least not with files; with hugs, now that was a
different story. Myshell hadn’t spoken to anyone about
it, but she really did miss her friend. Missed the companionship in the
lab, the conversation at lunch, the gossiping like teenagers
at home. Very few people had work relationships quite like the one
Jessie and Myshell did. Of course, there were few people
like Jessica Bannon in the world, if any.
     Myshell smiled at that, a feature that had been noticeably absent
the past few weeks. After losing her best friend to
kidnappers and then learning her mentor had been killed, there didn’t
seem like there was much left worth smiling about. But
now, with her coming home, Myshell could let herself relax a little bit.
Unwind herself just a notch and allow someone else to
take over while she sat, waiting in her chair, swinging back and forth.
The strange moved over her again, stronger this time than
last and she hugged herself. She felt so good, like a kid who’s best
friend had been sick with chicken pox and was finally better
enough to come out and play again. Tucking her legs up Indian style, she
spun all the way around in celebration, making a
lopsided circle as the chair wobbled out of place.
     “Whoa!” she cried out loud, grinning at herself as she went around.
The room flashed before her eyes, a swirl of color as it
all blurred together. “Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!” she cried.  The chair rolled
haphazardly across the floor of the office and Myshell’s
smile brightened to full out laughter. Jessie and she had spent a whole
afternoon spinning each other in the chair once, when
they were still interning. Back then they’d been equals at the same
level on the corporate food chain; the bottom. Now
though . . . now they were employer and employee and still, nothing had
changed between them.
     The spinning slowed and the chair slid to a stop, its journey
ending beside a small, metal file cabinet. Myshell stood up, her
legs unsteady, using the cabinet for support. There, sitting on top of
the cabinet was a picture of the girls. Reaching out, she
picked it up, touching the two smiling interns through the glass. Their
smiles seemed to convey some private joke, like they
were laughing at something no one else could see and it made her smile
even wider to see it. Yes, they were best friends,
nothing could change that, and when Jessie got back everything would be
good again. Things would go back to the way they
were supposed to be and they’d go back to being the sisters they’d never
had and the lab rats that always finished the job.
 Things were definitely looking up, now that Jessie was coming home.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

     “And you say Estella’s with her?” Race repeated. Moving the phone
away from his ear to stare, he held it like it was some
poisonous serpent, trying to make a meal out of his hand. Benton looked
at the ceiling to avoid Race’s murderous gaze.
 “Well, at least you won’t have to explain where Jessie’s been,” Benton
supplied with forced optimism. The truth was, had
Estella discovered Jessie’s kidnapping from either of them she would
have been a handful. Having found out from her daughter
who was still fleeing her attackers would make her harder to deal with.
Much harder.
     “Thank you.” Benton heard the click of the phone as Race hung up
and his friend’s sigh. “At least she’s safe,” he mumbled
unhappily, rubbing his face in aggravation. “That’s what matters most;
that Jessie’s okay.”
     “That’s the important thing,” Benton agreed, coming over to his
friend’s side.
     “So long as she’s okay, I can deal with whatever Estella’s
planning.” He sat down on the bed hard, producing a loud
poofing sound as the air rushed out of the mattress. There was a hollow
quality to his face, like he’d been fighting too hard for
too long and was ready to toss in the towel for good.
     “You don’t know she’s looking for a fight,” Benton said gently.
Race and Estella had traveled down this road many times
before. Even now, after all this time, the pain of their failed marriage
was still hanging over their heads, preventing them from
making up. If they could just let go of it; the arguments, the hurt, the
guilt, maybe they’d have a chance to make up. Or at least
to be at peace with one another.
     “Nah, I don’t. But I have a mighty strong feeling she is . . .
always has been.” Benton didn’t mention Race’s part in their
fighting. “Just kind of comes with our relationship. Whenever we’re in
the same room. Heck, whenever we’re on the same
continent.”
     “Hemisphere too,” Benton added under his breath. Race laughed
ruefully, remembering all the transcontinental phone
conversations. “It’ll be okay this time, Race. Estella knows Jessie’s a
big girl with her own life, she’ll understand this wasn’t
your fault.” Benton shook his head. He patted Race’s shoulder. “She’s a
logical enough to understand that.” Race heaved
another sigh and nodded in defeat.
     “You’re right Benton,” he said wearily, “she’ll understand. She’s
the one who made the kid so independent.”
     “I don’t know about THAT. Seems to me you played quite the part in
that yourself.” Race snickered.
     “Suppose I did.” He sat forward and put his head in his hands
tiredly. “Guess I’m not worried about her blaming me after
all.” Benton frowned at that.
     “But you still don’t feel better,” he put in. Race shook his head
and Benton moved to sit down beside him. When younger
man didn’t continue, Benton probed him gently. “Then what’s the
problem?”
     “Huh?” Race looked up for a minute, then to the floor. “I don’t
know. Maybe I’m worried about Jess.”
     “Baloney. You’re nervous about seeing Estella again.” Race shifted
uncomfortably in his seat
     “No,” he replied, looking sulky even as he turned his head to stare
over at the tacky painting on the wall across from them.
Some kind of landscape or something with lots of blue, positioned next
to a simple mirror.
     “Really?” Race shifted his gaze back to the Doctor. Blinking twice
as if to clear his mind, he smiled grimly, his face full of a
twisted humor. Like he was seeing everything the opposite of what they
were and found the backwards world amusing.
 “You know, there was a time when our positions were reversed.”
     “Sometimes even you need help. It’s not like you can be in control
all the time,” Benton stated plainly. He knew why his
friend was changing the subject, but he let him get away with it. If
Race didn’t want to talk about his feelings for Estella, then
Benton wasn’t going to force him. Not even if he thought Race was
hurting himself.
     Race sighed in that heavy hearted way he had developed since the
kids had gone off and inched away from the Doctor,
sliding across the single bed to stand.
     “I suppose not. Though it would sure as hell make it easier to deal
with ‘Stella if I could.” Benton leaned comfortably back
against the wall, legs out.
     “Well that goes without saying.” The Doctor lowered his head down
to gaze at the carpet and examine his shoe. “So, you
okay?”
     “Compared to what?” Race shook his head, sending bits of white hair
to and fro. He pulled a piece. “Needs a cut,” he
mumbled distractedly, tugging on it before letting go. “I’m just gonna
deal with what ever she dishes out. Just like I’m supposed
to.”
     “Good man.” That earned a toothy grin.
     “And maybe give some back.”
     “So that means a temporary truce fire’s out of the question?”
     “I have no intention of starting anything so long as she’s civil.
     “Though you’ll jump all over her if she so much as breathes wrong?”
He shook his head. “And Jessie wonders why the two
of you can’t be left alone in the same room.”
***********************************************************************************************

                                                                 10:16pm

     “Thought you could get away from us so easy, chiquita?” a tall man
with dark skin asked, holding her roughly by the chin as
he crouched in front of her. He was trying to intimidate her, but Jessie
just gritted her teeth. Lord, she hated it when they called
her that. “I know, I know,” he said patronizingly. “You hate me.” He
made a sympathetic face, frowning sadly. “You were so
close to the airport, to freedom. But ay, those jungle roads are
treacherous.” He gave a throaty chuckle and his gold incisor
showed when he smiled.
     Jessie’s eyes moved as she gazed up at the circle of men with
automatic weapons standing around her, looking directly at
each to memorize their face. Her eyes fell back on him and, calling up
as much hatred as she could muster, she glared in a way
that usually made interns pee their pants but did not speak. “What? The
cat got your tongue?” Jessie let out her most menacing
growl.“Oh-ho! The kitten forgets its place, no? But no matter, we have
you now. Soon, you will belong to Señor Xanthus.” He
tightened his hold on her chin. “And if you are smart, you do what we
tell you and maybe, maybe we let them live.” He
motioned with a move of his head to Bryne and Estella who sat her side,
silently watching. Jessie sneered at him.
     “Funny,” she said, her voice cold, “that’s just what I was going to
say to you.” The man moved back slightly in surprise,
eyelids flickering open like shades being snapped up. A small ‘oh’
shaped his mouth.
     “What was that? YOU are threatening ME?” he asked in disbelief, his
brown eyes wide as tea saucers. He turned to his
small posse as if to confirm. “SHE is threatening ME?” The men burst out
laughing, throwing their heads back comically as they
hooted loudly in appreciation of a well told joke. “Ay chicka, you have
much to learn about the world.” He let go of her and
gave her a light pat on the cheek, the way an amused parent would,
pinching the skin tightly.
     Jessie blinked back tears of pain, but did not speak or cry out.
Seeing the tears of pain glistening in her eyes, he squeezed
harder maliciously. She took a small, quick intake of breath then bit
her tongue fiercely. “Such a little girl.” Letting go all at
once,  he stood abruptly, rising up to a towering height above the
captives. “But if you do happen to get out of those ropes,
you are more than welcome to try your best to hurt us.” He reached
behind her and tugged on the ropes binding her hands for
emphasis. “You can even have one free swing before I tie you up again
and send you to Senor Xanthus.” He leaned over to
look at her. “Está bien?” He laughed at himself and turned. “Watch
them,” he spat at two of the men and walked out of the
large, open room. All but two of the others followed, filing out single
file.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

     “I don’t believe this,” Harvey muttered under his breath. “I don’t
BELIEVE this!” He put his fist straight through the
concrete wall.
     “Senor!” the man cried in alarm, jumping up from his seat. Harvey
clenched and unclenched his jaw in a human gesture,
berating himself mentally. This was not the time to lose his cool and
fly off the handle. Of all the things he could be doing, that
was actually the worse. Blowing his cover would only make things harder.
No, this was the time to be in control. The time to
be the machine, the weapon,  and not the man. The time to follow his
programming and do his job.
     “I’m fine,” he said calmly, brown eyes steadied on the wall.
“You’ll have to excuse me.” He gave a pull and his hand came
free of the wall. Bits of crumbly rock fell out around him. Landing on
the dirt floor, they bounced once or twice and were still.
“Your news is most shocking.” He turned and the man gasped as Harvey
leveled that level stare on him.
     “Oh, of course. I understand completely, Senor.” The man, a local
manager of some kind for Vertutech supply storage and
harvesting, looked at the hole in the wall then back to the man with the
brown hair and calm brown eyes. He gulped and
looked very much like he wanted to be as far away from where he was as
possible.
     “You’ll understand then that I have to find my friends.” The man
tore his gaze from the wall and looked back at Harvey.
The man’s eyes seemed to focus and he started himself.
     “Yes, yes of course,” he responded again shakily. He nodded
vigorously. “Very important for you to find them.”
     “If there is any information you might give me- Let’s say that
Vertutech would be very grateful for any help you might
provide.” If he had been anyone else, he would have given the manager a
significant look, a glance he couldn’t fail to
misunderstand. Capable of being no one other than himself, however, he
continued to look on steadily which was a far more
effective prompting than anything else he could have done.
     “I wish there was,” the manager began, sounding quite sincere as he
looked at Harvey, “but I told you what I know. Only
that the airport control tower called to relay a message from the Quest
pilot.”
     “The message?”
     “The same one I told you before señor,” the man said, his body
smaller than ever and almost trembling. Harvey could have
smacked himself for forgetting humans needed visual cues as well as
verbal. He produced the most calming smile his weary
circuits would allow.
     “Tell me again.” He kept his voice low and soothing so as to help
the man relax.
     “The pilot sends word that no one arrived, not even after Doctor
Velasquez phoned to say they were leaving and that if the
passengers didn’t arrive soon they were going to lose their departure
time.” Harvey nodded and considered the possibilities.
Car trouble; the jeep had seen its share of battle but Jessica was a
capable mechanic and even Estella knew some
rudimentaries. It there had been a problem someone would have called
with the cell phone Estella carried. The man with them,
Bryne West, would have called even if the other two had been too
stubborn. He seemed like that type. They could have left
late, but Harvey knew that was ridiculous. Even late they’d have made it
in a reasonable amount of time. Though a human
could fool to themselves and quiet their minds by convincing themselves
it wasn’t so bad, an android would short his logic
processors lying like that. So there was no way around it, not by reason
or imagination.
                                 They’d been kidnapped. Again. My, this
was getting repetitive.
     “And that was all?” The man bobbed his head up and down
enthusiastically; eyes wide as saucers, face pale as paper. At
his temple a vein beat rapidly. “Well, thank you very much-” Harvey
glanced over at the desk, neat as a pin, behind the
manager. A name plate stared back at him, the metal face shining in the
light. “-Mister Santiago.” Santiago looked faintly
relieved at that. He moved to extend his hand, thought the better of it
and pulled back. Harvey pretended not to notice gave a
courteous bow before leaving the crude office building. There was a
sound of the man hitting the floor behind him. This time
Harvey couldn’t stifle the sound of a human sigh.
     It really had been a mistake to put his fist through the wall like
that in front of the manager. The poor thing really hadn’t
deserved that. He had obviously been at the end of his rope. Harvey
wondered if all office workers were that high strung. Oh
well, he’d recover soon enough. Maybe he’d chalk the whole thing up to
work induced hallucinations. He walked off into the
night, moving quietly through the sleeping town.  Jessie was going to be
ticked when she found out he’d been scaring people
again. When she found out. If she found out. Harvey just might keep his
mouth shut about this little incident when he caught up
with her. After he yelled at her for getting caught again that was. And
he would yell at her. Didn’t she know androids couldn’t
replace gray hairs?
     Now that she was gone though, all he could do was go after her,
again, and this time stay with her to the airport and home.
A nagging morsel tugged at his anodes. The man’s use of Spanish troubled
him, Brazil’s national language was Portugese,
though it could have been a result of diffusion from one country to
another. Harvey pondered that a bit as he made his way to
pay phone before tucking it away to think about later. Right now, he had
a date with a satellite.
***********************************************************************************************


11:43pm

     “Don’t worry mom, I’ve been in worse,” Jessie muttered under her
breath. Estella smiled tightly at her daughter.
     “I know.” She looked around at the poorly lit space. “But this is
so cliché. Why is it ALWAYS a warehouse? I remember
your father complaining about that once after a particularly nasty
assignment.” She shook her head. “Couldn’t they think of
anything less predictable? Like maybe a nice four star hotel-”
     “Cierre la boca!” one of the men yelled, coming over and back
handing her in the face. Estella fell back, smacking into the
wall behind her. Her head made a sick thunk like a casaba melon hitting
concrete. She let out a faint moan and was still. “No
hable!” he shouted at the motionless figure.
     “Mom!” Jessie cried in alarm, promptly receiving her own blow for
speaking. She fell to the side, landing on her back with a
hard smack.
     “Stupid americanas!” the man yelled at them, his voice echoing off
the walls. “Don’t you understand shut up? Or are you
too stupid?”
     Jessie sat up and scooted over to her mother,  shaking her by
nudging her leg. Estella’s body slumped against the wall a
little more and she let out a soft ‘ay’.
    With a little effort, Jessica managed to wedge her shoulder
underneath Estella’s back to help her forward. Using her nose to
feel around her head, she checked as best she could for breakage.
Already, she could feel a slight swelling coming up on the
back of her head.
     “Juan!” the other guard cried sharply, shouldering his gun to grab
the man by his shoulders and shake him twice. “Leave
them be, Juan! Senor wants the girl to help him. Making her angry will
only make her more stubborn.” Juan knocked the man’s
hands off his shoulders and shoved him back. The man stumbled and fell,
landing hard on his backside and skidding across the
floor.
     “Do not tell me what to do!” Juan shouted down at him, his skin
flushed bright red all the way up to the roots of his hair. “I
am in charge here! You do what I say!” The man stood, rubbing his shin.
     “But Juan-” Juan balled his hand into a fist and leveled it with
the guards nose.
     “Are you questioning me?” he ground out; jaw jutting forward, veins
popping in his temple and neck.
     “Sí, sí Juan,” the man said hastily, eyeing the fist. “It is as you
say.” Juan nodded slowly and deliberately turned his back to
the man. “Now.”
     From where they were on the ground, Jessica protectively cradled
her mother by hunching her shoulders forward and
around. She kissed Estella’s temples, her eyes following the men’s ever
movement. “Look what you did,” she said coldly.
“You knocked her out. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could
have done? She could have a concussion!”
Juan’s nostrils flared and he stepped toward her. The man on the ground
scrambled over and made to stop him, but Juan
knocked him back again before grabbing Jessie by the front of her shirt
loose shirt. He lifted her up off the ground by the
material and raised his free hand back in fury.
     “Don’t you learn?” he growled, spittle flying from the corners of
his mouth as he spoke.
     “I’m going to have to ask you to not touch them.” The guard snapped
his head away from Jessie to face Bryne.
     “And what are you going to do about it?” he snarled, gripping
Jessie tighter. Big mistake. Bryne slammed his foot forward,
hitting Juan in the hip and knocking him on to his backside. Juan let go
of Jessie in surprise, dropping her to the ground. The
other guard let out a startled yip and lunged forward for Bryne.
     He moved quickly, considering the spill he’d just taken, and
latched on to Bryne like a pit bull. Caught by the shoulders,
Bryne and the guard were stuck and as one they fell back to the ground.
In mid-descent Bryne twisted from below,
maneuvering his body over the guard’s and managed to land on top.
Continuing the motion he followed through and kept
rolling to the right, over the other man and onto the floor. Within
seconds he was back up on his feet, legs apart and hands out
to strike. >From his far left Juan ran at him, recovered. Bryne turned
and caught him, hands miraculously free, holding onto his
head as Juan rammed them both toward the wall.
     Running backwards as he was, Bryne couldn’t help it as he stepped
on the fallen guard and tripped. As he fell he used his
momentum to help him throw Juan up and over his shoulders, slamming the
man into the wall. Juan’s body made a thwack as it
smacked flat against the concrete, suspended their for a moment before
gravity took hold. Faster than that, Bryne rolled just in
time to avoid Juan’s falling form. The other guard was not so lucky,
unable to move from being fallen on twice in a row Juan
landed flat on top of him. There was a cracking sound as the two
collided, Juan smashing face down into the other one, and the
whooshing of air out of the bodies. Nothing sounded and the room was
silent except for faint breathing sounds of the five
occupants and nothing moved, not even the prisoners.
     Crouched defensively a step away from the pile Bryne stayed stock
still, watching the two men silently, his blue eyes
focused intensely. Then, convinced they weren’t for the moment, he
brushed himself off and stood up. Looking to Jessie, he
gave her a hard stare, his eyes cutting into her. He nodded faintly
after a bit and, walking over, went to have a look at the men.
Jessie watched him as he moved toward them, that stealthy quality to his
movements. Something about the way he did that
shook her and she could feel her doubts again, nagging at the back of
her mind.
    *How did he do that?* She continued to watch as he bent briefly,
moving his fingers to press against their necks. When he
paused and moved his head to the side in consideration, Jessie spoke up.

     “Are they dead?” she asked more shakily than she would have liked.
Bryne shook his head negatively and Jessie let out the
breath she’d been holding. When Bryne stood and made his way back to her
Jessie fixed her eyes on the guards. There, a faint
rise and fall of the chest. She let her eyes close in thanks that they
were only out cold. She felt steady hands at her back.
     “You okay?” Jessie opened her eyes to find herself face to face
with depthless blue. She nodded but didn’t speak, her
whole concentration focused on his face. Bryne held her gaze for a
while. Then he looked uncomfortably away from her and,
shifting, moved his gaze to the ropes where his hands were already
working. He didn’t speak again, just worked on untying the
bindings that held her wrists together. It didn’t take long for him to
have the knots undone. Jessie felt as the pressure holding
her hands released and the texture of the coarse rope as it fell away.
Bryne slid in place to work on Estella’s ropes.
     Bringing her wrists forward to rub them she could feel the
tightness in her shoulders. She flinched faintly, but grimaced out
right. She knew exactly what was wrong; they were stiff from being
pulled back for too long. Gingerly, she moved them
back and forth in a rotated movement. Her were really going to scream
later. Jessie ignored the aching in her back and
shoulders and scooted over to hold Estella still while Bryne worked. Her
head flopped a bit as he pulled on the tangled mess,
but Jessie held her mother and let her roll her head onto her daughter’s
shoulder. In her arms Estella moaned as her wrists
twisted with the rope. Jessie tightened her grip. Bryne worked a little
bit longer, his face never changing as he finished what he
was doing, and removed the last bits of rope, tossing them carelessly to
the floor. Jessie stroked her mother’s hair lovingly and
murmured to her. The woman stirred a bit but did not wake.
     “Come on, mom,” she said softly, kissing her forehead as she
mumbled against it. “Wake up.” From somewhere outside the
sound of voices floated into the room, wafting with the moist night air.
Jessie’s head came up sharply and she was still, straining
to hear. Beside her Bryne froze as well. Then came the footsteps. The
click clop resounding of shoes on concrete coming
down the corridor outside the open room. Closer, closer; the voices
getting louder as the footsteps were easier to hear. Jessie
held her breath when the steps stopped in front of the large door. Metal
grinded against metal and the door lurched open a bit.
     Panic flooded her mind and she surged to her feet, carefully
putting her mother on the ground to move in front of her. If they
were coming there was no way she was going to just sit there and let
them take her. No, if they wanted Jessica Bannon they
were going to have to fight her. Bryne’s hand shot out and latched on to
her arm so fast Jessie let out an involuntary gasp. Her
mouth opened to speak but his other hand came up to cover her mouth
before she could get the words out. Firmly he pulled
her down into his arms, restraining her movement.
     “Don’t speak,” he hissed in her ear. His body was tense. She could
feel his muscles through their clothing, could feel them
coiled to spring. The image of him fighting the guard flashed through
her head and she imagined those muscles moving beneath
his skin. She saw them flexing and unflexing, seeing the way they worked
with everything else. She could picture them bringing
him forward, punching the man- Juan to protect her. Punching Juan;
throwing him against the wall, knocking him out. She could
visualize him doing that to the others too with those muscles; the ones
pressing against her, the ones holding her in the death
grip against him . . . they stayed crouched there, motionless while the
door opened and stopped. A new voice was talking
outside, calling the others. The door groaned back into place and the
voices of the guards got softer and softer as the footsteps
faded away.