Chapter Eleven
I just want one person I can rescue, and I want one person who needs me. Who can't live without me. I want to be a hero, but not just one time.
~Chuck Palahniuk~
Romano
After almost 14 hours, I landed in Marseille. It was cool at this time of the year; I guess even the weather agreed to this rescue mission. I knew I needed some supplies to carry out my mission. I laid out everything I would need, guns, bullets, and a few tear gas canisters; this especially could come in handy.
I picked up a cab at the airport after sending the pilot to Italy to pick up Raphael. If anything were to happen to me, if I went missing, for instance, at least the pilot knew where my last location was. Everything I needed was packed in a bag pack, squeezed was more like it. The bag was full. It reminded me of my boyhood, our boyhood- Raph, Bruno, and I. We had a bag almost like this one, smaller, cheaper, and less fancy, but still nearly the same. Each day we went out and stole food and other items that we would later sell for a buck; we saved the money in case of emergencies, money that none of us could touch unless it were an emergency. Truth be told that cash taught us about loyalty than anything else that followed. It taught us that we could trust each other, that we could rely on each other.
I heard the cab driver speak.
"I'm sorry I didn't hear you," I said, looking at his eyes on the rear mirror.
"I asked which route should I take, right or left?" We had left civilization behind. This road was dusty and unmarked. I had memorized the direction Mac had printed out for me, but to go through this without raising the alarm, I had to walk.
"I will walk the rest of the distance," I said, pulling my bag out of the back seat. "But I have a favor to ask of you." The man shot his eyes straight to mine; I could sense unease in the way he stood.
"What do you need?" He asked the question like a man who knew he had no choice. He was probably in his fifties, tall and slim, perhaps from too much drinking on an empty stomach. He was also a man who was afraid of his own shadow, which was one of the reasons I picked him; the other was his love for the bottle. I knew if I gave him more than enough money, he would be too busy drinking to go to work for a couple of days, which was what I wanted.
"Take this," I said, putting the envelope full of cash on the bonnet of the cab. "There is enough there to last you a month, but I need you to go into hiding for at least two weeks. Can you do that?" The man stepped back instinctively, his eyes now clouding in fear. I almost felt pity for him, but that is another luxury I couldn't afford.
"Look, man, as long as you can hide for the next two weeks, you'll be okay. If you don't, I guarantee someone will kill you immediately you describe me to them"
"Why?" His voice shook, eyeing me in distrust.
"Trust me; you don't want to know," I retorted. "But if by bad luck they find out about you, then describe me exactly as you can remember down to the scar on my right cheek." Of course, the scar was fake; it was also a replica of the scar on one of Antonio's men. It excited me, that no matter what happened today, if I wasn't captured, Stefano will never know it was me who took the girl. However, the fact that I felt no remorse whatsoever for having dragged this man into this mess spoke volumes of how much humanity I had lost. Still, then again, I was here because I had chosen to rescue another human being who wasn't part of my family, maybe my humanity wasn't completely gone after all. I was still capable of feeling empathy.
"But you said whether I describe you or not, they will still kill me" he was nervously wiping the sweat off his face using the back of his right hand.
"But there is something that can guarantee your safety?"
And so I told him. Made sure he understood that the rule to survive this was by following every one of my instructions, and I hoped, for his sake, he did.
I didn't tell him that no matter how well he hid, Stefano will eventually get him. But before that happened, I had enough time to rescue Amelia and get us both of this country. I had about 10 kilometers to walk. That would me take me around one hour or so. I didn't take the defined path to Stefono's hideout house; I walked through what appeared to be a mini forest and wished I didn't come across a man-eating creature.
I thought a lot about her, Amelia. This girl whose life was no longer hers. I wondered whether she had had a chance to reflect on her life, and if she did, what did she find? Was there something she could have done differently. Though I find regrets a waste of time, I wanted to know what others regret the most in their final hour.
Wasn't it crazy, though? That someone in the 20th century had a platform to sell another human being through a channel that frequents so many people and no organization, and that included governments, knew about it? Or maybe they did.
I climbed and walked through small hills, making a path using my booted feet. I did not mind walking; I wasn't tired of it; what kept me going was what awaited me. Maybe I should have been afraid; fear is good; sometimes, it becomes a motivation, but I was not scared, anxious, but not afraid.
I knew I was almost to the house when I heard a loud laugh. A man was laughing gleefully like someone had made a dirty joke, and I was sure they were talking about Ameria. I had memorized every aspect of Stefano's house, the one entrance that directly faced the undeveloped land instead of the marked road, the rough stoned wall that was too high for me yet the only option to getting in.
From my estimation, a maximum of five minutes to climb over the wall and another 10 minutes to get Mia and I out without getting both us killed. While I was confident I could climb the wall within that time, getting Mia out had to be done through the gate, and that would be a hard task.
God! I must be crazy. I thought. Coming all this way alone. Why can't I just leave her to her fate? Why must I be involved in someone's life? It is not my fault that she was in this situation. But no matter how much I chastised myself or tried to give myself reasons not to rescue her, I still charged forward.
Sauntering, making sure not to make a single sound, I came closer to the house, the bag firmly on my back, hands in black leather gloves, and a confidence that might kill me someday.
The first sound I heard when I climbed the wall was a hissing sound of a cat. It was perched on the wall, his eyes bravely on mine, his entire body ready to jump me at any given time, but there was no time to get into a fight with a cat, and the attention would be catastrophic to my plan. So I averted my eyes, which I hoped was a sign that I came in peace.
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Her room was bathed in darkness, but I could see her. She was seated on the bed leaning on the bedpost. I could see she had cried because of the dried tears on her face. Our eyes met, hers were stricken, mine probably mesmerized. She looked hopeless like she had already surrendered her life to the fate that awaited her. She said nothing; neither did I for almost a minute, but it was the sign of new tears blinking in her eyes that threw me to action.
"Ciao Bella" Those were my first words to her. If I was to go back to that moment, I have wondered if I would still choose to say that.
She blinked twice. "I'm sorry I don't know Italian," She cried. I hated that sound. The fear in it brought out a sense of protectiveness that I never thought I would experience.
"Shhh...It's okay; Please don't cry. I came for you" Now her eyes were filled with distrust and uncertainty.
"What? Why?" This time she whispered in a muffled voice.
" Because I can." I had hunched down so our eyes would be on the same level. I could see her very clearly, even in the dark, but I doubted very much she could make out my face.
"We need to leave immediately if we are to make out of this alive," I whispered. She had stopped crying now only hiccuping every time she tried to speak. "c'mon baby girl, take a leap of faith and come with me."
I don't know what it was I said that made her spring up from the bed. "Do I need to change?"
"No. There is no time just wear flat shoes, preferably canvas."
"I don't have canvas but have sneaker."
She was now in motion walking towards what appeared to be a shoe-lack.
"No. don't turn the lights on." my voice stopped her as I pulled out a pair of white sneakers for her. "Wear this."
"How can you see in the dark?"
"I'm sure we do not have time to talk about that right now. Let's go."
I held her hand as we moved from the room, her small soft hand feeling alien in mine. We stood for a while at the door as I slowly opened it to take a second to look if there was anyone on the corridor. Stefano must have been sure Mia wouldn't escape, and none of his employees had the guts to steal her from him, seeing that there was no one stationed at her door.
"Make sure you stick to me no matter what."
She nodded. We did get out of Stefano's house but not without me killing one of his men and getting three bullets of my own, but I made sure Mia wasn't shot.
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I grew up with guns, and I have a hundred bullet scars on my body, especially both of my thighs. It must have been an unwritten rule for teenage boys trying so hard to be men to shoot their counterparts at the thighs to keep from killing them. That I must confess was a smart move. If there is anything I've learned in my life is that killing someone no matter how justified left an even bigger scar on your heart. Taking a life is a burden I wouldn't wish on anyone, and I hoped Mia didn't have to use the gun I gave her. Not to say I wouldn't have to kill any fucker who tried to fuck with me, I would and still sleep at night, peacefully and wait for judgment day. But those same boys grew up to be killers. That is why I had three bullets inside my body.
My leg stung like a bitch. I was aware that I needed to remove the bullet soon, but I didn't have the time. I needed to walk if I wanted to make sure Mia got out of this safely, so I left a trail of blood everywhere, which is what I wanted. The trail was to mislead Stefano and his men. There was no time to waste, so I got up and started walking.
Walking through the same woods alone with blood all over me in almost indescribable pain was the loneliest I had felt in a long time. I felt like the world closed up and left me outside.
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