More gunfire.
Ant laughs. “That answer your question?”
Javier’s voice comes on the line, steady and sure. “Ant, we had to hand off the little girl to Hedy, so we’re still a few minutes out. Listen to me. Good job getting more intel from him, but you need to kill the guard.”
There’s a brief pause as the line is muted, then Ant comes back on. “Okay. It’s done.”
“You killed him already?”
“Yes. Should I kill the second guard?”
Gunfire, far too close, fills the line.
“If he’s the one shooting at you, then yes.”
Another extended silence.
“Got him.”
Nacho looks at me, disturbed. “We need to go in there with him. He’s all by himself.”
Nodding, I hit my comms. “Ant, we’re going to join you and make sure the kids are okay.” Turning to Nacho, I confess, “Look, I’ve been working on the blood thing, but when it’s someone I’m close to, like Charlie, I don’t know how it’ll affect me.”
He nods. “I’ve got you.”
“Ant, we’re coming in.”
“Okay. Front door’s open. Just walk in.”
Exiting the car, we cross the street and open the door to an open-plan office with a big window looking out onto a small warehouse, where dozens of cots are lined up in rows. All the children are huddled in the corner. Refocusing on the scene in front of me, bloody drag marks on the linoleum floor lead us to the two dead guards off to the side, lying next to each other with jackets over their heads.
Huh. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me.
Nacho whistles under his breath. “Ant dragged their bodies over here.”
“Sorry,” Ant says, coming up to us. “I tried to cover the blood but didn’t have a chance to get to the floor.”
I shrug. “Looks like bad-guy blood doesn’t bother me much.”
“What about good-guy blood?” Charlie asks, his voice thin and weak. He’s past the bad guys, on the floor under a desk with a makeshift tourniquet tied around his leg above his knee.
It’s a little nausea-inducing, but…he’s alive.
“You’re awake!” Ant says, racing over to him. “Don’t move your leg, Charlie. I’m pretty sure the bullet hit something important.”
“Okay. I’m gonna…hang here for a moment. How are the kids?”
“Terrified,” Ant says, biting his lip, “but okay. We’re going to go check on them right now. Well, Nacho and Levy are going to do that, and I’ll stay here with you.”
“Nope. Go with them. I’ve got my gun.”
Ant hesitates, then faces us with a determined look. “Let’s go tell the kids this nightmare is over.”
I think it’s a little soon to say, but I keep that to myself.
Hiding his gun, Ant pushes past the door and walks into the warehouse area, followed by Nacho and me. He introduces himself in Spanish and tells them we’re here to take them back to their parents.
The oldest kid, maybe twelve, pushes his way to the front. “How can we trust you?”
