Running back to Ava, I gather her up again.
“The Jeep is ahead of us. We’re going to make it,” I tell her. My arms ache and my legs feel like jelly, but I push us forward. Norse drives the Jeep off the road and meets us halfway.
“What happened to you?” he asks, helping me into the backseat. Bennito slides over to make room.
“Fouquet.” I lift Ava up and Bennito reaches over to help me settle her.
“Do I need to go back?”
“No, he’s dead.” I shut the door and point forward. “Let’s go.”
We make it to the Captain David Abenzur Rengifo International Airport in short time. Guards patrol the exterior with their semiautomatic weapons slung over their backs. We’re not dripping with blood, but we don’t look exactly reputable. I’m beat up. Ava’s shoulder is bandaged and she’s slipping in and out of consciousness.
“I have a shot of adrenaline,” Bennito offers.
“It’s too dangerous. She’ll have to try to walk.” I prop Ava up. “Baby, I need you to walk through the terminal. It’s a very short trip. I’ll be on one side and Bennito on the other. All you need to do is to move your feet.”
“I can’t do it,” she whimpers. “The pain is too much.”
Even Bennito flinches at the anguished sound.
“I know, baby, I know. But we need to get you out of here. We’re almost home where it’s safe. You just need to stay upright for a hundred yards. I know you can do that. I know it.”
She rolls her head to the side and looks out the window. I have no idea whether she is seeing the squat glass and metal building or whether it’s just a haze of pain.
“I can try,” she says finally.
“That’s my girl.” At those words, everyone is out of the Jeep and we head toward the entrance. A guard looks our way. I can see the men hesitate but pausing means guilt. “Go,” I order harshly, and everyone begins to move again. The guard takes another step and then another.
We keep moving.
He takes one more step and I see Norse reach inside his loose nylon jacket.
“El compa?ero,” another guard calls out. The man hesitates but we keep walking forward. When his friend calls for him again, he gives us one last look and then turns away.
We breathe a sigh of relief and no one stops us.
“Am I going to die?” she whimpers, her hand going to press against her wound as if by touching it, she could will the pain away.
“Of course not.” I draw her hand away and clutch it in mine. I don’t want her to hurt more, not even from her own touch. “No one is going to hurt you again.”
“Where are you taking me? I don’t have anywhere to go. Rose is gone.” Her voice is hoarse from choking the tears back but she doesn’t let them spill, doesn’t let them draw undue attention to us.
“My island. Remember I told you about that.”
She nods. “Where there’s no tears or pain?”
“That’s right. I’ve got people there who will fix you up.”
“What about Rose? Did you bury her? She shouldn’t be left here all alone.”
“She’s not alone,” I tell her. “You were with her when she died. Her best friend. That means something.”
“She didn’t know what she was getting into,” Ava says, and her eyes beg for understanding.
“Of course she didn’t.”
Ava gasps for breath and sweat is breaking out along her pale forehead. I tighten my grip around her waist. “Why does it hurt so much when I breathe? Are you sure I’m not dying? You wouldn’t lie about that, would you?”
“Never. You are shot in the shoulder close to your lung. When you breathe, it pulls on the muscles, tendons, and nerves near your heart.”
The explanation seems to calm her. “I’m being a huge baby, aren’t I? You got stabbed and you didn’t say a thing.”
“It’s different,” I tell her.
She nods drowsily. “I got into modeling because of Rose. I wasn’t good enough to be on the cover of any magazine or walk the runway.”
“Then those people don’t know what they are doing, because you are more beautiful than anyone I’ve seen on a magazine cover.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Models are a different beautiful. They have to have angles and planes that look good under lights and makeup. They are unusual and striking. Like Rose. It’s a different sort of beautiful.” Her breath comes in short, agitated pants. “Rose got me the modeling jobs,” she repeats.
Over her head, Bennito gives me a worried look. Ava is beginning to sound a bit delirious. She’s lost in her past. Maybe it is the pain, maybe it is grief, but her legs are moving and we are almost there. I can see the private lounge ahead of us.
“Stay strong for Rose,” I tell her. “The mind can fuel you in miraculous ways.”
It’s why I’m still alive. I have refused to die no matter how many times the reaper has been at my feet, waving his scythe. He might be here now. Ava might be seeing him but I won’t let him take her.
Ava’s beautiful face is contorted with pain.