Then he dived at me.
It was so fast I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been looking directly at him. My obsession with his voice had relaxed my innate self-preservation. I’d let my guard down and now it was too late. Standing next to me, he was huge, towering over my five-foot ten-inch frame. He held my right arm again, gently this time. Don’t ask me how that happened. My movements were in slow motion compared to his. He flipped over my wrist and we stared at the diamond-shaped mark just visible in the dim lighting. Curved around the small of my wrist, the smooth purple mark looked larger than usual.
“Miqueriona, my little one. Have you ever wondered why you have this mark?”
Abigail, get the hell out of there.
I wasn’t sure if that was my inner voice or an outside force issuing direction. But something was telling me to ignore the inviting warmth and ... well ... get the hell out of there.
I stared up into his piercing blue eyes and continued the conversation. What? I’m a slow learner.
“I know why I have this mark. It’s a birthmark.” I used my I’m-speaking-to-a-two-year-old tone. “Again, who are you?”
The man smiled. His teeth were straight, white and perfect. Not typical of many street people. He was definitely keeping some secrets.
“Who am I? Not important.” He continued, and I admit it, I was in love with his accent. “What do I want? Much more important. But right now there is no time to explain.”
Between the randomness of the conversation and his accent, I was struggling to understand.
“But you are the most important of all, young Aribella. Now is not the time for questions. Danger lurks in the darkness. I will locate you again. And as difficult as you will find this, try to be patient. Your time is coming.”
No! He couldn’t leave yet. My hands tangled in the extra cloth along his sleeves. The material was unusual; it looked rough and coarse, but felt as smooth as silk. I opened my mouth to stall him, but he never let me speak.
“And stop roaming the streets. It’s too dangerous for you. Salutia, miqueriona.”
Then he tipped his head and, escaping my grip, was gone.
More than annoyed, I took off after him, following his path onto the street, but it was deserted.
Impossible!
I’d just met the older, grumpier Superman, because no one could disappear that quickly. Taking a few hurried breaths, I winced. Now that he was gone I noticed the increased pulse of hot sharp jabs under my ribs. If I didn’t stop falling down, my body was going to go on strike and refuse all movement. I glanced at my battered old watch. Crap! It was after eight; I was going to miss last class. The matron was sure to kill me this time. I had no idea why people worried about the danger on the streets. They should live in my house. It was time to get back there.
I took off along the path at a reasonably fast pace, the entire way my tumultuous thoughts beating at me. That was such a strange meeting. The man had called me Aribella and miquw awara something or other. The first one was a name, for sure, and the second definitely another language. My heart raced. I needed to find him again. I wanted to look now, but he was right: the dark was hunting-time; the predators emerged. Tomorrow, I decided, would be much safer.
I was passing familiar streets; I was almost home. Though, trust me, it was missing a few of the homely essentials. The cold stone building where I grew up was Compound 23, one of the dozens of hidden dwellings where children were stashed. I’d been dumped on this one’s doorstep. Figuratively speaking. These under-eighteen compounds are single sex and secluded. The training grounds for future rebels.
Lucy, my best friend, lived there with me. She helped me smack down a couple of bullies when we were three and we’d been inseparable ever since.
I side-stepped a large pile of rusted-out bike frames. It was second nature to run and dodge the random array of trash. Downtown New York was just rubble now. I hadn’t seen her in the prime of her life, but I imagined she was magnificent.
Pausing before the compound’s front gates, I glanced around to determine I was alone. Crazy vines covered the outside of what looked like an abandoned building. But there was a minute high-tech security panel hidden in the wall. I pressed my palm against the scanner before entering the password and finishing with voice authentication. All of this security plus barbed wire fences, video surveillance ... and still girls disappeared.
The human-trafficking movement had gained strength over the years. We lived in constant fear of ending up in that life.