25. Alice
25
ALICE
I 'm on pins and needles. I know something is happening. I can feel it in my bones. Mario has been planning and strategizing for this moment for so long, and now it's here and he's walked into battle a wounded warrior. He can't actually think he can do anything in his state. When I left him, he could barely sit up straight.
"Honey, relax. These men know what they're doing." The woman, whom I've come to learn is named Sandy, sits with a key in her hand attached to a chain around her neck. She slides the key up and down the chain, around and around until it’s driving me mad. It has to be the key for the door. She's toying with me.
"How can I relax when he's out there and he's injured? You didn't see him. He was bleeding and weak." I chew on my bottom lip and curl into myself farther. The couch feels like it's swallowing me whole. I may be clean on the outside, but my insides are dirty, stained with the guilt of having brought my troubles to Mario's doorstep. He could die, and it will be my fault if he does.
"They know how to handle themselves, sweetheart." If anyone would know, it would be someone like Sandy. She sits in this safehouse night and day watching television, being used as a sex toy for someone who is out there fighting alongside Mario. She's probably done this a million times, seen her man come home bloodied and beaten more than once.
But I haven't. This isn't my life. Tom never fought in any battles or "wars", as Mario would call this if he were here. He wasn't a soldier. He was an accountant, a money pusher. Tom was safe and predictable, which is why I was so utterly shocked to learn he wasn't so predictable. Mario is a loose cannon, someone I'll never be able to predict or understand. I'm terrified he'll never come back and save me, and what then? I don't know the plan. Will I just stay here with Sandy forever?
"Can we watch the news?" I'm sure if something goes down, it's going to be newsworthy. It will be huge. Mario hasn't been amassing a small army for weeks just to go into Paolo's home or business stealthily. He will make waves, and when he does, the news people will be there.
"Yeah, sure," Sandy drawls and reaches for the remote. "Want a beer?" she asks me, and all I can think about is the baby. How good would a beer taste right now? Or a bottle of rum, but I can't.
"No, thanks," I tell her, and she switches to a news broadcast before heading into the kitchen. I hear the fridge open, and I want to run to the door and break it down, run away, but there isn't any point. It's reinforced steel with several locks. I can unlock all of them but one, and in my head, I practice how that would work if I can only get that key from her neck.
The news is talking about the weather, drier over the next few days but a promise of cooler temps in the long-range forecast. It feels eerie how this whole thing with Mario started on a night when they said it was going to rain. The weatherman telling me how the region would receive record rainfall. We could do with some of that moisture now, about two months later, for the heavens to open and shower on us .
I could use some showers too—showers from heaven full of blessings, protection, safety. Hope. I need Mario by my side. He quickly became my anchor in all things, and now without him, I feel lost. It feels like I'm going to be alone the rest of my life, however short that is. I don’t know his plan, and the fear of the unknown is almost as bad as the panic over what has been. Almost.
"Told ya it's boring…" Sandy slurps her beer and sits back down in her recliner, and I hug my knees to my chest. So far, things are quiet, but I know it's going down. I’m waiting, almost holding my breath, and when the news broadcast is interrupted by a special alert, I know it’s him.
"Hold on, Peter," the news anchor says. "We have an incoming alert. Police are on the scene at Our Lady of Resurrection church to respond to an active shooter situation. They say there are multiple gunmen in what appears to be a gang-related turf war." The broadcast goes to a live feed from a helicopter where smoke rises from the church's spires, and I stand to my feet in shock, covering my mouth.
"My God." I feel sick, and not your average morning sickness nausea. I feel like my heart will stop beating, that my mind will stop thinking and my body will cease to function. "Mario…"
"Hey, I told you, honey. They know what they're doing." Sandy is no help at all. This is old news to her, same-old thing she's used to. She stands, though, and she tries to comfort me, but I've had enough. I have to get to him. The police are there now. Paolo won't dare harm me with that many cops around.
When Sandy tries to touch my back, I turn and grab the key and yank it off her neck. The chain breaks, and she tries to grab me, but I shove her hard and she topples backward, slamming her head on the coffee table as she falls. Her eyes shut, and she slumps to the floor out cold, and I rush to the door.
With no shoes and no cash, no way to call for help, the only thing I can do is run. I unlock the door and bolt down the stairs before she wakes up and stops me. Then I dart into the mid-afternoon sunshine with my arms flailing. I hope someone sees me and stops, but I run at least five blocks before I even get to a major intersection. It's like the world has stopped, as if they've seen the report of the church exploding and they're all sitting behind television screens watching it unfold. I don’t have that luxury.
When a cab finally stops, I'm so out of breath I can hardly speak. The cabby graciously waits for me to catch my breath a little, and I huff out, "Please… Take me to Our Lady of Resurrection."
"Whoa, lady. Don’t you know they shut that part of town down? There was some sort of bomb there." The cabby looks at me over his shoulder, and I wish I had that gun I took from Mario right now. I'm livid.
"My partner is there. I have to make sure he's okay." I'm frantic, hanging on the back of the front seats, pleading with this man who doesn’t seem to care.
"That'll be a hundred bucks." He holds out his hand as if I will pay him cash right now, but I'm broke. I have nothing at all, not even a penny.
"Please, I need to know he's okay. I'm freaking out." I'm still heaving from the run, and I may yet throw up now. "Don’t you have a wife, or a partner? Can you tell how upset I am?"
He rolls his eyes at me and turns around. "Dammit, lady…" He sighs. "Buckle up."
The trip goes faster than I think it will. With so many people headed away from that side of town, and so few moving toward it, our path is mostly clear. Until we get to a spot still several blocks from the actual church and police have a roadblock up. There are uniformed officers standing behind their cars parked in the middle of the intersection.
"Road ends here, honey. I hope you find him." The man sounds nicer now than he did before, but I’m still just as panicked .
"Thank you!" I blurt out as I open the door and dart out. The cops at the intersection seem to take notice of me, but I won't be stopped. They’ll have to gun me down if they want to keep me from getting to that church.
I take off running, dodging the back end of one of the cop cars as the two officers scream at me. I'm fast, though, slipping past them and darting between parked cars to get to the sidewalk. My feet slap the concrete. I’ll have blisters before this is all over with. But that doesn’t stop me. I tear up the street, managing to hide from a few more police who stand guard at the next intersection, though I'm sure by now the first set of cops has warned them. They seem to be looking in the wrong direction, which is good for me.
I approach the block the church sits on, and there is nothing but a row of cops, ambulances, three fire trucks, and several news vans. They clog up the street with barricades now surrounding everything. This wasn't like this when I saw the news video from the helicopter. There are way more first responders here. How will I ever find Mario in all of this mess? What if he's not even here? What if they've taken him to a hospital? God knows, he already needed one.
What if he's dead?
My heart is pounding so hard I can't see straight. I'm dizzy, and I push past a few reporters, only to be stopped by a big, burly police officer.
"Hey, lady, you can't go in there." His arm curls around my waist and pins me back, and I claw at him and scream.
"Mario! No! Please… I have to go in there." I'm leaning, straining against his thick bicep, and he still holds me back.
"Honey, you can't go in there. The church exploded. We can't let you in."
"Please," I plead, leaning so hard he stumbles and has to take a few steps to keep himself upright, but he still doesn't relent. "Please," I sob .
"Let her go," I hear, and I know the voice.
The crowd parts, and I see him, bloodied, ice pack on his head, seated in the back of an ambulance with two EMTs seated next to him. He looks pale, like he's lost too much blood, and my heart is so relieved that he's alive.
The cop lets me go, and I am in Mario's arms in seconds. It has never felt better to be here, either, and no one will ever tear me away again.