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The guts on these kids. If I wasn’t so consumed by rage, I might feel a sliver of pride. Look what you’ve inspired in these people, Angel. They’re ready to bring down armies and governments for you.
“Do you have a radio?” I ask, pulling Cat onto her feet. I wrap her arm around my shoulder and carry her sad dead weight.
“No, sir. Sorry. There weren’t enough to go around.”
Fuck. “We need to find a car, quick.”
“They took Oscar...” Cat mutters under her breath. I swallow my shame and my dread and focus instead on my rage. She may be falling apart right now, but I can’t. For our son’s sake, I need to stay focused and alert.
“They have your son!?” None of these new men look familiar, and I doubt any of them were there earlier today when Cat, Oscar and I were discovered by the crowd near Wilmar’s, but they already know about our son. It’s no surprise that Dante does, too.
I fucking knew that would happen, but not even I knew it would all spread so fast. A new flare of rage flickers from my fireball at the thought of who’s responsible for that. We could have been long gone by now...
But this is no time to point fingers, and Cat has already suffered enough. I need to get her somewhere safe and I need to go after Oscar.
“Find me a car, now!” I order the man who appears to be the leader of this roaming pack of revolutionaries. He nods and gestures for two of his men
to come with him. “The rest of you stay here,” I continue. “You are to protect Catalina with your lives. Understand?”
None of them hesitate to agree.
I check the guns I’ve just picked up to make sure they’re loaded, then I carry Cat to the edge of the alley, surrounded by our new security detail.
“Did you see any cars on your way here?” I ask the group.
“There were some,” a young man answers.
“But most were already firebombed and useless,” another adds.
“Fuck,” I growl.
Suddenly, bright headlights screech around a nearby corner, blinding me. Cat tenses in my arms as I whip her back around the alley wall for protection.
“It’s us!” a familiar voice calls from the window of a beat-up old Pinto as it pulls to a stop in front of us.
The three men who went looking for the car file out. “I guess no one thought this hunk of junk was worth setting fire to,” one of them laughs, smacking the pockmarked hood with a fist.
The engine sounds worn out and sickly, like it’s on its last legs, but I don’t have any other options. Oscar needs me.
Suddenly, Cat feels very heavy on my arm. What do I do with her? Do I bring her with me, or is it safer to leave her behind with these men?
I’m torn, but Cat seems to sense my hesitation. It’s enough to snap her out of her anguished daze, if even only for a second.
“Go,” she pleads. “I’ll only slow you down.”
“We won’t let anything happen to her, boss!” one of my men shouts.
“We’ll get her somewhere safe; I swear it!” support echoes through the humid air. Despite all of the chaos that surrounds us, the violent winds seemed to have calmed.
My decision becomes an easy one.
“Take this,” I say, throwing my cell phone at the nearest soldier. I have the number memorized. “I’ll call you when I’m done. Don’t let anything happen to her!”
Cat’s weight transfers to new shoulders and I’m freed from her heavy sorrow. I hardly feel any lighter. Anxious dread undercuts my intense fury; I desperately try to smother it.
Stay focused, Angel.
Cat looks at me like a lost soul trying to find a hand to pull her out of the darkness. Our eyes meet and I feel numb. This is our fault. How can I ever forgive her? How can I ever forgive myself?