“Sam, we’re going to need a place to lie low for a day or so. Somewhere safe and not an abandoned warehouse we’ve used twice already. Then you're going to explain exactly what is going on here between you and this woman.” We were driving south on the I35 in a stolen SUV having left behind a truck full of dead bodies and a bunch of gasoline poured all over them. I had shoved a rag into the tank to light it off, but Sam had pulled a boyscout move building some weird contraption that was essentially a delayed fuse inside a closed truck cab filled with gasoline soaked dead people using nothing more than a cigarette and a piece of leather he cut off his boot laces. Fucking showoff.

  We were almost 5 minutes down the road before we saw the black smoke cloud we assumed was ‘ole Bessie going up in flames. It sucked to lose her, but we had five people now and the SUV could hold us. ‘Ole Bessie could not.

  Frank was still delirious and half dead in the back with Sarah hovering over him and whispering to him so quietly I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  “I know a place, keep driving.” he said from the passenger seat.

  The mysterious and so far unexplained Martina sat behind me silently, making my skin crawl. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her specifically, but I couldn’t shake that look she gave Sam when he pulled her gag out. He knew her, she knew him, and she didn’t like him at all. On top of that, she was sitting behind me unrestrained, a complete unknown quantity. And she definitely wasn’t human.

  And Godsdamn it, she reminded me of someone I once knew! I could feel it, even if I couldn't remember who it was. In my mind I saw white face, blue paint.

  In the here and now, this woman had dark hair with a green tint to it and a complexion straight out the South American Rainforest - a gorgeous dark brown - with brown eyes a good bit larger than typical and a rather fit body. She was bruised and a little battered from captivity, but unlike Frank, she had not been disfigured or tortured. The biggest physical difference between her and us was an obvious case of Syndactyly - the webbing between her fingers was pronounced and extended much farther than commonly seen in human hands.

  I looked up into the rearview mirror to catch her eye and asked, “Martina, do you want us to drop you off somewhere? You do not have to stay with us. You are not a prisoner anymore.”

  Staring back at me with a sneer, she replied, “No habla Inglés.”

  Fucking great. I don’t speak Spanish.

  “Knock it off, Martina!” Sam said. To me he said, “She’s fluent in Spanish, English, Italian, and Mandarin. She’s just pissed off she got grabbed by Broadhead and is blaming me.”

  “It was your fault, stupid Pombéro! I knew I shouldn’t have slept with you again!”

  Cue the very uncomfortable silence in the car.

  “Soooo…you two know each other, then?” I asked.

  Oddly, she looked over at Sarah, who never turned her gaze from Frank.

  “She is one of that group of people I work with that I told you about.” he answered. "A few days ago she wandered off and disappeared."

  “He’s an asshole and son of a bitch!" To Sam she said, "Every time I see you, you try to make me one of your little eco-warriors, so that you can have me around every time you get horny.” she snarled.

  “And you’re a Gods-damned Iara! Fucking is what you do!” Sam snarled back.

  “What the hell is going on?” I yelled. “And what’s an Iara, damnit?”

  “An oversexed Mermaid!”

  “Fuck you!"

  “Uhh…I don’t mean to sound ignorant,” I said, “but she doesn’t look like a mermaid. You know, no tail…or anything…fishy?”

  “Get her in the water, you won’t regret it.”

  “If I ever get you in the water again, Se?or de la noche, you’ll never come back up!”

  Laughing lasciviously, Sam replied, “I bet you’d try, my lovely little psychopath!”

  “Can y'all stop bitching for five minutes and get us to the safehouse?” Sarah yelled. “My Frank needs medical attention!”

  Martina looked at Sarah with confusion on her face and questions in her eyes, but said nothing.

  “Is it a safe house?” I asked Sam.

  “Not in the professional sense. It’s a private home with great internet connectivity, and nobody bad knows about it. It’s also got a faraday cage. And a boat."

  “And you own it? You? A Shaman from Alaska owns a house in Texas?”

  Martina jumped back in, “No, the little ass doesn’t own it. I do. It’s at Lake L.B.J. And as typical, he left out the important part, we have lots of medical supplies there.”

  To Sam, she said, “They think you’re a Shaman from Alaska?”

  He looked at her with a frown that was clearly a warning. “Martina, I am a shaman from Alaska.”

  “You’re an asshole, Pombéro.”

  “Why does she keep calling you that?” I asked.

  “Pombéro is a Guarani imp. A mischief maker and oversexed legend from the rainforests of Brazil and Argentina. She’s trying to insult me. To be fair, pretty much all the Guarani extras are oversexed. Isn’t that right, Iara?” he smirked.

  Martina leapt from the backseat across the prone body of Frank and punched Sam hard across the jaw, screaming incoherently. She also slammed into my shoulder causing me to swerve the car and almost go off the road.

  “Jesus Christ!” I yelled as I wrestled the car back into a straight line.

  Sarah instantly reacted. “Enough, Goddamn it!” She twisted around in the backseat, getting on the back of Martina and rather expertly wrestling her off Sam and back into her seat.

  “Watch out and be careful! If you hurt my husband I will kill you,” she growled into her ear. “I appreciate you’re dealing with this jerk, and thank you for the use of your house, but I swear I’ll tear you apart if you cause my husband to die!” she turned to Sam, “And Sam, cut it out you stupid child! Stop taunting Martina and grow up! I don’t give a damn about your past together, but it’s endangering Frank. Cut it out, now!”

  Martina had the good grace to look ashamed and apologized, “Disculpá.”

  Sam, on the other hand, looked angry, and started sulking in the front seat, staring out the front windshield and rubbing his jaw.

  So go ahead and imagine the most horrible family road trip vacation in history and understand that our trip to Lake L.B.J. was worse. I turned on the radio and tried to drive. Sarah spent the entire time agonizing over her insensate husband, and the incipient violence in the air between Martina and Sam never abated the entire way to the house. For the remainder of the trip, the only voice heard in the car was the voice of the navigation app (In two miles stay right to take exit for Rt.2471… In a quarter mile stay right to take exit for Rt.2471).

  It drove me crazy, but I couldn't stop sneaking peeks of Martina in the back seat. My fractured memories kept showing me a blue painted face matching Martina's attitude and expressions, and I knew it was a lost person from my past. Somebody important.

  Lake L.B.J. was out northwest of Austin, but southwest of us. We spent three hours driving through the empty lands of Texas Hill country. We stopped early in the trip at Hico for some gas, food, and supplies as we caught Rt. 281 which took us the rest of the way before we wrapped around some local streets to a nice little row of houses all tucked tightly together on the lake.

  As we pulled into the driveway and parked, I basically crashed out the door in my haste to get out of that car and ran around to the back to open the door for Frank and Sarah.

  Sarah calmly said, “Martina, thank you for the use of your house. Please open that door and direct us to the medical supplies. We need to check out Frank in detail right now.”

  To her credit, Martina seemed much calmer and quickly went to the door and typed in a code at the door lock that opened the door and let her in. She left the door open and moved through the house towards a bedroom that had been expertly turned into a first aid station and guest room.

  Sarah and I lifted the stretcher with Frank on it and carried it inside.

  Sam sat in the front seat of the car still sulking, but honestly, I didn’t give a shit. We left him there.

  We got the stretcher in the room and I looked around at the well appointed space. It wasn’t a surgical hospital or anything, but they had a hospital bed, and some serious first aid equipment. There was a defib mounted on the wall, and some professional looking equipment that reminded me of a field medical tent. This room was meant for emergency medical treatment of serious wounds, but maybe not set up for significant procedures. I figured they could set broken bones, remove bullets from extremities, and perform emergency services to stabilize a person for a trip to the hospital. All in all, I was quite impressed.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I moved out of the way as Martina and Sarah started working over Frank. As I watched them, a few suspicions jumped back up into my mind. Sarah and Martina moved with the smooth confidence of experience as they professionally looked over Frank, giving him a better evaluation than many I’d seen in the field. But it wasn’t that they were both good at it, it was that they were so good at it together.

  There were too many oddities about Sarah and her skills that didn’t make sense. Why was she so knowledgeable about medicine and first aide? Why could she shoot so well? And how come she worked with Martina so smoothly? It became painfully obvious they knew each other as they worked on Frank. Shaking my head and disappointed in her, I went to the living room to think it through and wait to hear if my once friend Frank was going to survive. I wasn’t sure what would happen if he died.

  After they finished working on Frank and got him comfortably ensconced in the bed, the ladies came out of the room and crossed over to the living room where I was sitting. Sarah dropped into the recliner while Martina plopped onto the couch next to me.

  “You two worked hard. Is Frank going to be ok?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Martina replied. “He will never walk again without the help of prosthetics, but he is stable and sleeping.”

  “Sarah, are you ok?”

  She looked down at the floor. “My husband is alive and back with me. I’m furious, and I still want to kill every single one of those bastards." she sighed. "But I’m also on the way to being okay.”

  She looked up and over at me with genuine gratitude pouring out of her eyes and posture. “Thank you. You helped me get Frank back alive. I owe you forever.”

  “No problem,” I said while standing up and heading to the kitchen. “I'm going to grab a drink. Anybody want something?”

  “No, thanks.” Martina said.

  “I’m good, thank you.” replied Sarah.

  I kept my voice flat and neutral. The exact opposite of my emotions and my gut. “Cool. Hey Sarah, where are the cups?” I called from the kitchen. I stood there coiled and wound tight.

  “…Shit. When did you figure it out?”

  “Yeah. Shit” I said, turning around and stalking back into the room to face her. Martina was sitting on the edge of the couch looking like she was about to launch herself at me in attack.

  “Don’t do it, Martina.” I warned. “You won’t like the results.”

  “Let it go, Martina. He deserves to know the truth, and I believe we can trust him.”

  “You believe?” I asked, incredulously. “You believe? How could you think any different?”

  Her voice grew hard. “Because this is about runaway Extras, and you kill them for a living.”

  Aww shit. The last pieces fell into place then. Married to an Extra forced into service. Angry about it. Lots of money. “You run a Godsdamned underground railroad, don’t you?” I started pacing angrily around the room.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Damn it, Sarah. You’re not doing anything that hasn’t been tried before. It never lasts. You’ll get caught and killed.” I paused, “Not by me, you’re safe there, but by somebody. Eventually. They always catch the runaways eventually.”

  “No, you don’t.” Martina said. “Lot’s of times in the past, sure. Most of the time, maybe. But since Sarah joined and got us organized with strong finances, we’ve saved dozens in the last three years. Almost a hundred so far without a single one lost or captured. And we all know how to fight.”

  “So I’ve seen. Gods, I am an idiot.” I pointed at her, “So you three run around saving Extras and sticking it to Broadhead?”

  “Hell no!” exclaimed Martina. “Pombéro doesn’t work with us! He’s a stupid little ass that almost ruined everything!"

  “Wait. Where is the damn fool? Where’s Mr. Sam?” Sarah asked.

  We all stood looking at each other like idiots and then as if from an unheard signal, we all took off and headed to the driveway.

  The car was gone.

  Motherfucker. I could feel it. I was slipping away into the rage, the fear, the disassociation that comes upon me sometimes when it all goes to shit. Not in combat. Never in combat. In combat I’m relaxed and at ease. Fighting for my life is my natural state of being.

  No, this is when I’m betrayed, abandoned, or abused by people I tried to trust. When there’s no one around that’s an ally. No family I can lean on for support. At times like this I either get away and get alone for a while, or people get hurt. I took a deep breath and started counting. I went with the calming breath of four beats in, four beats held, and four beats to release. I closed my eyes as Martina finally let out frustrations of her own.

  “La concha de tu madre!” she yelled at the sky. “That asshole stole our car!”

  Sarah answered, “Well, he stole our stolen car sweetie, but…yeah, he did.”

  I opened my eyes on the third breath. After a few seconds staring out at the road, we all turned back and walked silently into the house as only three people completely exhausted with the drama of the day and totally out of fucks to give can do. We made it back into the living room and dropped into our seats, Sarah in the recliner and Martina and I on the couch.

  Four in, four held, four out. Repeat.

  “So.” I said.

  “So.” from Sarah.

  “So.” Martina.

  Four in, four held, four out.

  Trying to stay calm, I asked, “Anything stronger than water in this house, Martina?”

  “Oh hell yes. I’ll grab it.” I felt my shoulders and chest start to relax, and I thought I might be lucky enough to survive today without killing anyone else. But I kept breathing four in, four held, four out. Just to be safe.

  And that’s how we found ourselves each quietly drinking a glass of an outstanding Malbec from Argentina and wondering what went wrong in our lives leading us to this moment. We were still drinking that wine and studiously not talking to each other when we heard a groan and a muffled series of movements in the room I had mentally dubbed the “medical suite”.

  Sarah jumped up immediately and charged into said suite, with Martina and I right behind her.

  Frank was awake and trying to sit up. He froze, shock writ plainly across his face as he saw Sarah, Martina, and I crowd through the doorway into his room like actors in a Sitcom.

  For a frozen moment no one spoke. Then Frank, staring at me and Sarah, croaked out, “What the hell are you two doing here?” Sarah rushed to the bed and threw her arms around Frank and crushed him a hug as a small sob escaped her throat and for a second, Frank forgot all about his question as he closed his eyes and gripped his wife with his arms crying out softly, “It’s really you. I thought I had lost you forever. Oh Sarah, I thought I was dead. I thought I had left you alone. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know, I know,” she said. “I thought you were gone too. But I found you. I got you back. Don’t you ever leave me again.”

  “I won’t.” he said at once.

  She pulled back, gripped his shoulders and said, “I mean it. Never again. You don’t leave me. Not for war, not for a job, not for this slavery. You never leave me, you hear me? Never.”

  He stared into her eyes and we could all hear the promise and the iron in his words as he grated out through parched lips, “Yes. I hear you. Never again. I promise.”

  And as simple as that, my friend was a runner. He had promised his wife to be a man hunted to the ends of the Earth by every government on the planet. And he had been crippled by those bastards at Broadhead. I briefly, insanely wondered if I’d be the one sent to kill him. Then I remembered I had been discharged permanently, and for the first time, felt that was good thing.

  He looked back to Martina and I with a serious expression on his face and said, “What the hell are you doing here, Dru?”

  All that rage from earlier came crashing back. What am I doing here? After all this, I still wasn’t trusted? Unwanted?

  Feared.

  A sick feeling spread in the pit of my stomach and I could feel the entire universe shutting down again. Sounds became muted and I felt like I was underwater, looking towards a blurry, imperfect image in front of me. With a sick smile I said, “Well, Lieutenant, I feel like I was saving your life.

  “I went and got him, honey. I remembered what you said before you disappeared about reaching out to Dru if there was a problem.”

  “I what?”

  “Baby, you said to me, 'If you need anything while I'm gone, call Dru’.”

  “Oh…yeah. Uh, Sorry. I’m a little addled still.” He looked a little uncomfortable and asked, “So is it only you three? And I’m sorry, I don’t know you.” he added, looking at Martina.

  “No.” I jumped in before the others could speak. “Not just us three. Your buddy Sam was around, before he stole our only vehicle. You and Martina here apparently know and work with the same people.” I said, pointing at Martina. “You sure you don’t know her?”

  Frank leaned back on the bed and sighed. “Crap. No, Dru, I don’t know…Martina, is it? And you have no idea how sorry I am to hear that name.”

  I was shaking now. “Hey Frank? Maybe you’d better start telling us a story.”

  Sounding nervous, Sarah said, “Dru…uh…He needs rest, Dru. We can figure all this out later.”

  Both Martina and Frank seemed way too on board with that suggestion so I put my foot down.

  “No fucking way. There are way too many half secrets, lies, and bullshit floating around right now and I want it settled. This is dangerous. Right now not one of you actually trusts me enough to tell me the truth, so I can damn well not afford to trust you!” By the time I finished, I was screaming at him.

  Still screaming I said, “I packed up, left my home, traveled to Texas, put my life at risk repeatedly, and killed several people to get you into that bed. You sons of bitches owe me! Spill it! What the hell is going on?”

  It was at this point I realized that Martina and Sarah were putting me inside of a triangle with Frank at the tip and me in the middle - an effective way to keep someone in a crossfire without accidentally killing your allies with friendly fire, so long as you shoot first. Time slowed way down like it does during a firefight. Even though my joints and muscles felt like they were on fire, my whole body went loose and relaxed. It was almost go time.

  “Go ahead. Do it. Try to kill me now that I’ve done what you wanted. Show me I was wrong to trust you.” I turned to Sarah. “Show me I was wrong to help you save your husband. Show me, Sarah, what ‘I owe you forever’ actually means to you.”

  Frank spoke. “This is why I didn’t want you anywhere near this, Dru. You - and I’m sorry to be so blunt - you are so profoundly broken, Dru. Nobody is about to kill you. We’re all afraid you’re going to kill us!”

  "Then why did you tell Sarah to bring me in?” I screamed.

  I looked around again, my body rigid with suppressed rage. My fists were clenched so hard they hurt. My legs were quivering with the urge to run, or lash out, or start kicking things until they broke. They still had me in a triangle, but Martina looked nervous and was shifting her eyes between me and Sarah constantly. Sarah…well Sarah was looking at me with tears in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Dru. I did lie to you. But it wasn’t about Frank. It was about my work with Martina and the others. I didn’t know they would be involved. I didn’t even know Martina was gone, let alone had once been involved with Sam or Broadhead! Please forgive me. You did save my Frank, and I do owe you forever, and I swear, I swear by our shared childhoods, that I’m not going to try to hurt you.”

  I was breathing fast and heavy and part of me wanted to kill everyone in the room because it would be easier that way.

  Safer.

  Sarah - how had she gotten so close to me? - reached out slowly and touched my cheek. “Nobody here will hurt you, and if anyone tries, I’ll kill them myself. You’re my family forever now. Forever.”

  I stood shaking like a rabbit waiting for the fox to pounce. In my entire life, I don’t remember anyone ever calling me family and meaning that as a good thing except once, and they’re dead now. So dead I don't even remember their faces.

  From the bed a million fucking miles away I heard Frank, “Stand down, brother. We’ve got your six, and you’re safe here. Why don’t you rack out.”

  Martina spoke softly, “Che, you rescued me from captivity a mere 4 hours ago. I owe you, and if Sarah calls you brother, then I’m your friend too.” The blue painted face flashed across my vision again. I couldn't process.

  Somehow they had both gotten to the bed and were standing protectively on either side of Frank. I hadn’t even seen them move. I couldn’t process the moment. The emotions were conflicting, and my mind was reeling. I was shutting down. Standing there without the ability to move, I simply said the truth, “I don’t have any family.”

  I had to leave. My body started up again on it’s own accord, with no conscious decision on my part. Like an automaton, I turned around and spoke over my shoulder as I shuffled out of the room, “Yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna rack out, LT. Yeah.”

  As I left, Martina quietly said, “Did you see his eyes? They changed colors! PTSD doesn't do that!”

  I could hear Frank whisper to the ladies, “That had nothing to do with PTSD, that was something else entirely. We all almost died. Dru is a very dangerous person to be near when he’s like this. And honey, I never told you to call him. What’s going on?”

  But I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything at that revelation. Anything at all. Down in the Zero again. All alone except for a blue painted face without a name sitting in front of my mind's eye, this time she was crying.