Chapter 11- Cutting Short
She dressed comfortably in a pair of black low top work boots and her kick ass Fer de Lance pants, covered over with an ankle length black print skirt. A black turtleneck sweater along with the pea coat, went on, but the knives in her pants weren't easily accessible.
“I will look so stupid stopping to pull up my skirt to get a knife,” she said, raising her finger to touch the imaginary light bulb that popped up above her head.
In her craft room, she located a blade and sliced holes in the skirt pockets for her hands to slide through.
“I will be wearing gloves,” she mumbled, then went to find her gloves.
She slipped them on, tried them out, then opened the holes further for her gloved hands to slide through the slots to grab the knives and be ready to throw.
“Good enough,” she said, taking off the gloves.
She made it as far as the front door and stopped.
Her gut told her to make a mommy basket.
She located a mid-sized rectangular basket from her craft room.
From the pantry, she pulled two bottles of water and two granola bars.
A piece of fruit went in next, and Helen thought a good cold cut sandwich was required as well.
Last but not least, she added a bottle of hand sanitizer along with a pack of wet wipes.
“Thanks, Pear,” she said, remembering the snacks the woman had in her van for kids.
Ready to roll out, she engaged the alarm and headed to the barn for her Technician vehicle.
In her pocket was the 9 mm and she made a mental note this weekend to go weapon shopping, along with calling Azrael to get her credentials.
She didn't need to hit the road with nothing more than a 9mm and three knives.
It was all she had, and it would have to do for today.
As she reached the front gates, she pulled the vehicle out, nearly colliding with a delivery truck.
The shocked driver sat with his mouth open, and Helen put her vehicle in reverse, grateful for the near miss.
An envelope was handed to Helen through her driver's side window, which required no signature, and the driver waved and headed off.
The package was for her. She ripped it open to search the contents to discover her concealed carry permit and 007 credentials.
Grinning, she pointed the Explorer towards Indianapolis.
She knew two outreach centers on East New York Street, and usually, kids made spots near the shelters to get food or showers.
At night, if they could get in the shelters, they would, versus sleeping on the streets.
Helen rolled through the city. Upon arriving at the shelter and seeing no kids outside, she made her way around the back of the building, driving slowly, looking at the kids. A thought hit her, and it creeped her out, but she spotted a couple of kids.
“Hey, I need a couple of girls to help me with a project,” Helen said. “Cute. About fifteen. No drug addiction. Kind of clean. I got a twenty if you can point me to where I can find a few.”
A pimple faced boy spoke up. “What If I just yank your ass out of that nice car and take all your money?”
“What if I put a bullet in your ass for irritating me? You want to the twenty or not, smart butt?”
“Southside, near Meridian,” he said. “Fresh meat always starts there to suck a prick to make a buck. Men troll it, and newbies, well, it either works out or turns bad.”
Helen passed him a twenty. “Thanks.”
“Hope you find her and give her a better life than what she left,” the boy said.
The window rolled up, and Helen headed towards Meridian.
She knew the area, and Cherry had a couple of jobs down there.
It meant she needed to go in on foot, but she wouldn't. Too many variables and she had no backup.
Fifteen minutes later, she wished to be home in her craft room making lovelies.
This was nasty and the things she saw were vile.
Movement in a dark corner caught her eye.
This trick was going wrong, and whoever the young girl was, her face met with a fist. Helen pressed the gas, arriving just as the man raised his arm to hit the girl again.
His pants were halfway down, the erection poking out, and he was at a disadvantage.
Not thinking, Helen sprang from the car.
In her head, she was calculating, but saying it aloud, “E equals, M times C squared.”
She came at the man, swinging for his temple, kicking at his legs to take him down, only to receive a spinning back fist from his hand, knocking her to the ground.
“If you want some of this, Bitch, you can get it next,” the man said, going back for the girl. He raised his hand again to hit her, and Helen took a different approach.
From her pocket, she took out her 9 and pulled the trigger. A bullet sliced through his leg, taking him down to his knees. Helen walked over to him and punched him in the face.
“Who’s the bitch now?” she asked looking at the girl. “Candace?”
She couldn't believe her luck. The girl she was looking for was the one trying to turn the trick and getting her ass beat.
“You know me?” The girl said.
“I was sent to find you. Get in the car,” Helen said, but the girl hesitated. “I can take you somewhere safe, or you can continue to take your chances out here sucking dirty dongs and getting your ass whipped.”
The girl moved quickly, climbing in the car. The sound of the gunshot had made the others scatter. Wheels were heard screeching, feet were heard scuttling, and Helen inside of her car, discovered a busted lip which was bleeding. She frowned.
Her arm reached into the back seat, pulling forward the basket. “Here,” she said, passing the basket to the girl.
“Thanks,” she told Helen. “Who sent you to find me? Them?”
“Don't know who ‘them’ is,” Helen said. “As far as I'm concerned, it was a guardian angel. A kid on East New York sent me this way. I just happened to see a bully beating a kid. I'm just as surprised as you are that the person I was sent to find is you.”
“Yeah, but who sent you?”
“Didn't I say your guardian angel?”
“Where did this guardian angel tell you to take me?”
“Stop being combative,” Helen said. “When he finished beating you, he was planning to take a free ride. I brought you a sandwich, fruit, water, and some wipes to clean your face and hands. Sit for a moment, exhale, and eat.”
The girl eyeballed the waters and the food. She looked at them all suspiciously. Helen sighed.
“Honey, I have a gun. Why would I need to lace the food? It's safe. I made that sandwich less than an hour ago,” she told her, pressing the navigation in the vehicle for the next programmed stop, the safe house in Allen Acres outside of Indianapolis.
The girl ate in silence as Helen drove. She normally didn't play music as she drove and didn't see a need today. She heard sniffles as the girl ate the sandwich.
“Life on the street is scary,” Helen said. “I can't begin to imagine what you left in order to take your chances on the street. I won't ask, but if you want to talk, I'm a good listener.”
“Don't want to talk,” Candace said.
“Then neither will I,” Helen replied, entering the interstate to I-465 to take the exit for Highway 421 towards Allen Acres.
Candance used the wipes to clear away her tears. “Have you been to this place you're taking me?”
“I have not.”
Her tearful eyes pleaded with Helen, “You're just going to drop me off or are you coming inside?”
“I'm coming inside to see what the fuck is up,” Helen said. “I wouldn't pluck you off the street to drop you into a nest of cobras. I want to see where you're going and what you're doing and meet who is in charge.”
“Thank you,” Candace said softly. “It's been a long time since someone talked to me like they actually cared. Usually, I get nice words and gifts to get what they want out of me. What are you trying to get out of me?”
“Baby, what do you have that you think a woman like me needs from you?” Helen asked, giving her a smile.
“So, is that your thing, riding around, picking up kids off the street when this guardian angel sends you in to rescue them from the bad people?”
“I think I liked it better when you weren't talking,” Helen said. “Stick that fruit in your mouth to shut yourself up.”
“Your lip is bleeding,” the girl said, passing her a wet nap.
Helen thanked her, dabbing at the blood.
She could feel her lip doubling in size, and maybe an ice pack would bring down the swelling by the time Mustang got home, but she didn't think so. They drove in more silence, reaching a turn off and coming to a residential street. It looked like a slice of Americana with a Homeowner’s Association from Hell. She found the house.
“We're here,” Helen said, pulling into the drive.
The engine idled for a minute before she cut turned off the vehicle.
“Think positive. This could be the break you need for a better life.
There are times when shit happens that seems so unreal you can't believe it is happening to you. Second guessing yourself on the good stuff will constantly put you in the wind tunnel of the bad.”
“What if this is just as bad as them people?”
“What if, when we ring that doorbell, the person who answers will give you a good life and a nice clean bed, and there are no perverted men in the house to sneak into your room at night,” Helen said.
“You sound like you're speaking from experience.”
“Life can be life-ing in a way that can screw up your head, or you can think positively and say, ‘God heard my prayers,’” Helen said. “Let's go see.”
They exited the vehicle and walked up the path to the front door. Helen stepped in front of the girl; her hand in the pocket of the pea coat fondling the weapon as she rang the bell. They heard footsteps and the door opened. Helen burst into laughter.