CHAPTER 1: It's only the Beginning

It wasn’t long after Jessica’s wedding; Sally began to feel restless again.  Maybe Steve had been right and she wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship she wanted to have.  Daniel had shown her a glimpse of what she ultimately wanted, and it was hard to start at the naive beginning again.  It had been that night Steve had taken her dancing, only a few days after they’d even stared their relationship when it happened.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The kiss sent a tingling shock through her and she felt the heat from the body next to her.  Sally opened her blue eyes to see the brown ones passionately peeping back.  Breaking free from his kisses, she inhaled the cool air.  Steve’s mouth began to kiss down her neck as her body instinctively reacted to his tender touches.  One of her hands slid through his brown locks as the other ran down his bare back. 

Her body ached for the passion to continue and escalate, but somewhere there was a small voice that thought something was wrong; a voice, although small, she always listened to.

Steve immediately felt the change in his girlfriend and looked worriedly her in the eye.

“Steve,” she said apologetically and he knew exactly what she was going to say. 

“It’s alright,” he sighed as he retreated and sat upright on the couch. 

Sally ran a hand through her loose locks.  “I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip as she looked away from him.

He put a hand on her shoulder.  “It’s alright…  Now don’t start crying.” 

“It’s just… I like you a lot Steve.”

“Yeah,” he smirked.  “But it can’t be helped. An ol’ heartbreaker like me gets himself into situations like this more than you know.”

She smiled slightly. 

“I can’t say I understand exactly, but when you come off a deep relationship, it’s hard to get started again.  I’ve been there a few times myself.”

He put his arm around her and she leaned into his bare chest.

“What helps me is: try and think back to when you stared dating Daniel,”  he paused as he thought to himself, That’s smooth, bring up her ex, “you probably didn’t have the same kind of feelings you did right before you broke up.  But those feelings you had back then, do you feel any of those for me?”

She turned and looked up at him cautiously. 

“The truth is best,” he replied.

“The truth is…” she sighed.  “I think you’re really hot, and I want to do with you what every girl dreams about doing with hot guys, but truthfully I’m not that kind of girl.”

Steve smiled wide then started into a fit of laughter.

“What?” Sally asked him.

“That’s … that’s the most… truth I… I have ever heard… a woman say,” he managed to say between laughs.  Sally smiled and started laughing too.

“I guess I just have that effect on a lot of woman, but you’re the first one who’s ever admitted it,” Steve told her after he subdued his funny bone.

Into the night they talked.  Steve, too, admitted that it seemed his attraction for her was only physical.  As the sun rose on the new day, they decided friends were all they’d ever be, anything else would only produce consequences they refused to experience.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And now one of her best friends was married and seemingly had a perfect life and Sally wondered if she’d ever find that kind of love.

She had known it for a little while, but it was no longer there.  Where had it gone wrong?  When had it begun to fade?  Her mind drifted to London, it seemed so far away.  Had it really only been four months ago?  Daniel and she were certainly in love that week they had spent together.  She had thought about him all the rest of the semester with only loving thoughts and dreams of his return (sometimes distracting her in class).  Then he had returned, the gentle kiss to awaken her from her finals exhaustion, that first sight of him, had revived her.  And that first hour had been just as she’d imagined: the soft words, the gentle touches, the familiar feelings of each other…

But disaster came, wanting to show him off to a new friend.  Had he really been that jealous?  And looking back now, how foolish he must feel realizing it was his own brother he had been jealous of.  Or was she the fool for not considering his impression of the situation?

But that’s not what drove them apart, something after that.  A stubbornness perhaps?  They were both quite good at that: neither wishing to admit fault, when there was none.  They didn’t even speak for a week.  It was the hardest week she’d ever lived through.  The one person she wanted for so long to be close again, was only a few blocks away and she had not allowed herself to even call him.

That must have been when it happened: that afternoon in the library.  He sat across from her, showing all his telltale habits of nervousness.  And she couldn’t bare to look at him, knowing that if she did she would cave in to feelings she couldn’t control, the way he made her feel.  And she didn’t like not being in control.  Although she knew deep down inside that he’d always keep her safe.

And then he had said the words she never thought he’d say.  And she couldn’t react, couldn’t respond.  Had she even really heard correctly?  Daniel would never do anything that wouldn’t be for the best.  She didn’t protest, being stunned into compliance, and agreed to remain his friend.

Sally smirked disapprovingly at herself, Friend.  Sally took another sip from the glass in front of her.  This is good, she thought as the smooth flavor washed over her tongue.  Who ever would have thought this quiet little bar served the best Shirley Temple I’ve ever tasted?

When she thought about it, she couldn’t believe that she disapproved of Teri.  From what she could tell, Teri was very nice and she made Daniel smile.  Isn’t that what really counts?  She sighed.  But there was something inside that disliked the brunette. And no matter how hard she had tried to shake it, it kept resurfacing.

As she took another sip a man sitting alone at a dark table in the corner caught her eye.  Through the dim light she couldn’t make out his features, but somehow his shape seemed familiar.  She averted her eyes, trying to conceal her intrigue.  After looking down at her slowly draining glass for a minute, she casually glanced in the direction of the corner.

“Aw, crap,” a man called as his pool stick hit the lamp above the billiards table.  The woman with him snickered; it was the second time this evening and her boyfriend had yet to catch on to the game.

“It’s all right honey,” she cooed, grinning.

The glow from the swinging lamp cast oscillating rays of light onto the walls and for an instant Sally saw the light reflect off the man’s hairless head.  Her breath somehow caught in her throat as she realized who the familiar figure was.  And as if on cue, he stood from his seat and stepped fully into the light as the lamp made another pass.  He was tall with caramel skin, wearing black pants and a well fitting t-shirt that seemed to form to his chest.  His head was hairless except for the thin strip of black on his chin and two thin eyebrows that framed his haunting dark eyes, which were looking right at her.

A tiny voice in her head sounded.  It was weak and barely audible, but it called out run.

Her brave side replied.  If I leave now he’ll know I saw him and was frightened.

Run! The little voice said louder.

I’m not giving him the satisfaction.  She straightened slightly in her chair.

He’s coming closer.  Now’s the LAST CHANCE! The little voice was on the verge of hysteria.

But now he was standing next to her, looking down at her with deep brown eyes.

“Hallo,” he said in his South American accent.  “I saw you from across the room and was wondering if we had met before, your beauty seems familiar.”

Oh, please… While the little voice screamed RUN!

Sally looked casually up at him, cloaking the turmoil inside her.  “I do believe so.  Perhaps a few months ago in this very bar on karaoke night.”

“Ah,” he put on an aire of remembrance.  “Thair es a first time for everything, no?”  He smiled at her.

She politely returned it.

“I am very sorry we were so rudely interrupted from our conversación that evening.  My colleague was so impatient.”  He gestured to an empty chair beside her, and she nodded, permitting him to sit.

What are you DOING?!?!

Shut up.  He doesn’t know who I am, what does it matter if I talk to him?

As he sat she asked, “What is it you do?”

“Ah, government work, shuffle papers en an office as I wear a stuffy suit.”

Ha!  She couldn’t imagine that, even if she hadn’t known who he was.

“And you?” he asked, his eyes seeming to get deeper and darker.

“Just a student at the university.”

“Do you get the time to do the activities you enjoy?” he leaned in closer to the table, and placed his hand upon it. 

He’s trying to pick me up?  She couldn’t believe it.  The frantic little voice was stunned silent.

But suddenly she didn’t mind.  She hardly even noticed the faint run as it was lost in the deepness of his eyes, which were so full of concern and passion.

“Every so often,” she replied quietly.  He grinned.

“I remember from our last conversación that you wanted to break that mold others cast you in.”

“That’s right,” she said. “I’m always the reliable one, the loyal one, the one that does the right thing.” She sounded full of scorn.

“You know what they say…” He smirked.

She looked at him wondering as a new voice arose, the one she hardly ever listened to, the daring adventurous one: He is slightly charming…

“…‘Good little girls make some mighty wild women.’” He leaned in even closer, his hand brushed against hers.  She glanced down at it, evaluating the plan that was forming in her mind.  It was not like her at all, and yet… You know you want to, she egged herself on.  But suddenly there was no convincing needed, it was as if the dangerous voice was the one she had always listened to and obeyed.

Her stormy blue eyes locked on his as her hand moved slowly to cover his. She grinned back, “Shall we find out if that’s true?”

- - - - - -

It didn’t take long to reach his motel room; it was two blocks away, right across from campus.  As he slowly slipped the key card into the slot she asked him, “Do you do this often?”

“Occasionally,” he stated as he opened the door and flipped on the lights.  “I find that the best women are those, like you, who have an inner wild side dying to get out.”  He shut the door behind them, locked it, and turned back to her.  “I just want to give you the opportunity to unleash it.”  He looked her up and down with lustful eyes.  “You’ll thank me afterwards.”  An almost crazy smile appeared on his face as he forcefully grabbed her and pulled her close, his lips devouring hers.

The tiny voice was heard for a fraction of a second yelling Push him away; hit him, hit him hard! But it was quickly drowned out by something else: a bold, powerful voice convincing her to give him what he asked for.

And the voice grew louder, more powerful, and a wicked lust washed over her as she kissed him back, more fiercely, more passionately than he was expecting.  Immediately she began to feel him respond.

He forcibly pushed her back, and she fell upon the starchy motel bed.  In an instant he had pulled his shirt over his head and had leapt atop her, straddling her hips and feasting on her lips.  He lapped his tongue across her jaw, then down her neck as her arms wrapped around him and her fingers hungrily groped his back.

His mouth traveled down farther until it was hindered by the neckline of her shirt. He moved to unbutton it. But in a swift move, the girl had flipped him and he rolled off the bed.  She turned on her side and smirked daringly as his dark eyes glared passionately up at her.

He got to his knees at the edge of the bed and stared at her for a moment.  She cocked a seductive eyebrow, noticing the Japanese symbol tattooed on his right shoulder.

“Life es nothing but a war,” he said in a matter of fact way.  “We fight to get ahead, we fight to stay on top.” He smirked suggestively.  “The only things en life worth having are those worth fighting for.  That es the adventure.”

In an instant his hands were on her hips, dragging her to the edge of the bed.  As he did so, he stood slightly and pressed his lips to her neck.  Instinctively her head reared back as her body arched.  At this moment his hand began to invade her shirt.  It was warm and headed straight to her breast. 

She gasped and he smirked against her skin.  Suddenly he had flipped again and was lying on the floor on the other side of the bed.  But he wasn’t alone for long.  Straddling his hips she brushed her warm breath over his chest, and felt him shudder in anticipation.  She brushed her lips against his, but denied him a kiss, and then hardly audible, her breath tickled his ear as she whispered.

“Thank you for setting me free.  This will be your greatest adventure.”

- - - - - - - -

As the summer sun filled the kitchen, the early morning breakfast eaters were busy with their morning routines.  Looking up from his now empty food dish, Bowie pricked his ears and rushed to the front door.

“Alec must be back,” Daniel stated as he poured some nutrients into his watering can.

“About time,” Poopsie commented, looking up at the wall clock.  “Must have been a busy night.”

“Good morning,” Alec stated weakly as he removed his cover, with Bowie right at his heals.

“’Morning, Hun,” Poopsie gave him a peck on the cheek as he collapsed into a chair.  “Tough night?”

“You’ll never guess what happened.”

“Bet I can.” T slid the newspaper over to Alec.

Man Murdered, No Leads

“Yup,” Alec nodded.  “That’s it.  It was a nightmare.  It was a motel, hundreds of prints to take, suspects to question, and no one saw or heard anything out of the ordinary:  apparently… he liked it rough.”  Alec shook his head.

“It sounds like that Miller guy, Sally described,” T added as he skimmed the article. “Bald man in his late twenties, distinguishable goatee.”

Daniel looked up.  “The one who…” his hand unconsciously fell upon his abdomen.

“Then maybe he finally got what he was asking for,” Sally said as she entered, still in her pajamas. They all looked over at her. “It’s all over the local news.  Sure sounds like Miller to me.”

Poopsie reached over and turned on the radio.

“…not to mention the secrecy the Police are trying to keep on the case.  However, it was confirmed that the man, in his late twenties, was stabbed in the gut with a ‘yet-to-be-identified’ weapon.  Police Chief Humphrey stated this morning that there is no suspect in custody, and any other evidence is undisclosed at this time.  We will bring you up to date news after this break.”

Sally reached for the pop-tart box and pulled out a silver package.  As she turned, she noticed Daniel watching her, but he turned his eyes away.

“Maybe another member of SECRET finally caught up to him,” Alec said.

Sally watched Daniel turn slightly paler.  Then he grabbed his watering can and left for the den.

“I didn’t mean…” Alec started.

Poopsie quieted him as Sally left after the gardener.  “It’s alright, you’ve had a long night.”

- - - - - - - - -

Daniel was in the den, knelt down beside a potted plant by the large window as Sally walked in.

“I’m sure it wasn’t Friedrich, Daniel,” she offered. “He has much more class than to just go stab someone.”

Daniel put down the canister, but didn’t look at her.  “He said he’d kill him for what he did.”

“Daniel, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” she tried to sound comforting; she never was any good at it.

“It shocked me at first,” he said. His words seemed detached. “To hear this man was dead, and that he had died horribly.”  He paused to swallow.  “But then I wished I had been there.”  Finally he turned toward her, his jaw was tight. “I wish I had done it.”

“Daniel…,” she whispered.  “no…”

“…if it meant that he didn’t have to.”

“He didn’t do it, Daniel.” She stepped closer to him.

“How can you be so sure?”  He stood, his questioning eyes staring into hers as a faint buzzer sounded somewhere in the mansion.

“If he’d been in town, he… he would have come to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

“Unless this is why he came to town.  Free wouldn’t want me knowing he was in town when this happened.”

“Daniel,” Sally slightly chastised him.  “Is this really what you think your brother does?  Goes around killing people? He’s a spy: he’s into espionage and secret stuff.” She gestured rather wildly.  “I doubt he’s killed anyone in his life.  He told me they issued him a gun, but he never used it because he thought taking life was wrong.  If you don’t trust me when I say those words against Miller were merely said in anger, trust Friedrich.”

“I don’t even know my brother,  I haven’t known him since I was ten,” he said quietly.  “How … how can I trust him?”

Daniel bit his lip, and she saw him clench his fist.  Her hand slowly reached out and set on his shoulder and instantly he fell into her arms, his own wrapping tightly around her.  For a moment everything felt warm, felt right.  Then suddenly a wave of panic surged through her, and she began to pull away.

“You’re right,” he muttered slowly unwrapping his embrace.

“Of course I’m right,” she said lightly, stepping back.

“Hey Daniel,” Poopsie called from the doorway.  “There’s someone here to see you.”

Sally exited as the visitor entered the den.

Maybe it wasn’t under the best circumstances that brought him to Tequila Heights, but when the man walked in, Daniel’s life seemed to fall into place once more.  Before him, stood his brother. Although looking quite official in a dark suit and neatly arranged brown hair and a trimmed goatee, Daniel knew his real identity.  The young man didn’t know whether to hug him or just shake his hand and say ‘hello, sir.’

“How is everything?” the man asked formally.

“Just fine,” Daniel said then gestured.  “Please sit down.”

“Why thank you,” the man said, nodding graciously and sat stiffly in a large chair.

“We can speak privately here, if you wish, no one will disturb us.”

“I can’t stay long and I’ve much to tell you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“The Face was here and I didn’t get to say ‘hi’?” Tonya asked disbelievingly as she joined the little briefing in the cave.

Sally looked up at her.  “You were at the refuge.”

“And besides he only had a few minutes,” Daniel added.  “He thought he was being trailed by other rouge SECRET agents.  It was a big risk he took coming here just to prove to us his innocence of Miller’s death.”

“So there are other agents in town?” Alec asked.

“As far as Free could tell, they were all here investigating the murder.”

“Which means no SECRET agent did it.” Techno leaned back in his big black chair.

“In the last few months my brother was with SECRET, he found out that Miller was involved in other illegal activities.  Free said he had a power too… some kind of mind control… he wasn’t really sure.  But it allowed him to make connections and he joined a theft and smuggling ring.”

Techno held up a piece of paper. “That’s where this rendezvous comes in?”

“The government wants this murder dealt with, so other SECRET agents won’t think the government is out to get them.  My brother won’t be able to follow up on this lead and asked if we’d be willing.”

Sally shook her head. “So he wants us to find evidence of criminal activity on a man who’s already been sentenced.”

 “She’s got a point,” Dee cocked an eyebrow. “The man’s already dead.  Do we really have to dig him up so he can go to jail?”

Daniel looked at them. “Someone involved in this could be the murderer.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun seemed to sink quickly over the edge of the earth as a slight breeze brought a fresh prairie smell to the nose of the masked silhouette. Perched upon a small overhang, Abra Pirata sighed as the last rays extinguished behind the horizon. Then a smile crept across her lips at the Kansas wind swooped down in full glory, bending the stalks of grain in the field that was spread before her.

Her blue eyes danced as the grain swayed creating waves of green. This must be what it’s like out on the ocean, she thought to herself as she drew in a deep breath, hoping perhaps it would smell like the sea, but the only aroma she sensed was wheat.

“Abra!” came Slick Pimp Patti’s voice. Abra turned and walked back to the road. SPP and Tygeress were already inside the small gray car. As soon as her door slammed shut, Ty hit the acceleration. “Techno wants us back at the cave,” Ty informed her as they sped down the highway toward Tequila Heights.

That had been her favorite stake out point thus far.

- - - - - -

“Well, somehow they were scared off and rescheduled for Tuesday night,” Techno briefed them. “As far as I know, the same route is being taken, and the info the Face gave us is holding up so we’ll keep the same points until further notice.”

“I’ve got some new info on Miller’s murder,” Alec spoke up. All eyes turned to him as he went over the evidence. “The wound was not made by a flat blade, like a knife. The weapon was round, tapered, with a diameter no greater than a centimeter and a half.”

"What kind of weapon is round?” Jed asked.

“An arrow?” Tonya suggested.

“That would be a pretty thick arrow,” Poopsie said, "and only tapered at the tip." 

"Perhaps it was a weapon of convenience,” Sally said. "Was anything missing from the motel room?”

"The owner says nothing is missing,” Alec clarified. “But who knows what Miller had with him? And no one saw anyone come or go from his room.”

Techno’s eye roamed the faces of the 5 girls in front of him. “I want you all to keep your eyes and ears peeled during your watches. If this elite agent couldn’t stop his own death, there is a high chance that we may not be prepared for the culprit either. Now go upstairs and get some R&R.”

As he turned from the table, Dee mumbled, “Even relaxing is an order. He can be such a anal retentive butt-pirate.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Sally thumbed through the book again.  After spending months pouring over the words and surfing the Internet she determined the writing was in Norwegian.  Sighing, she watched as the pages flipped by, still not comprehending the whole thing.  Looking at her notebook she read what she had translated so far.  So far it seemed like a family history, the beginnings of someone great that had faded from history.  It was going to take forever to do the whole thing.  Why am I so curious about this old book?

After midnight, she finally put down the old leather book.  She arched her back and reached toward the ceiling as she yawned.  She felt as if she hadn’t slept in a week.

For the first time in a long time, she closed her bedroom door.  Bowie would have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.  She walked toward her bed, already in her cotton shorts and loose t-shirt that comprised her sleeping attire.  Her body felt heavy and although she was weary she felt restless and knew she would have trouble sleeping.  As she climbed onto her bed, she closed the curtains around it, blocking out even the moonlight.  For a while she lay in the darkness, no particular thoughts in her head.  She sighed and reached for Paul, pulling him into her arms for one of his reassuring hugs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although the room was very dark, she could see every detail vividly due to cracks in the deck above that let in curtains of light.  She was in the hull of a ship with other women and children, all, like her, chained to the massive pillars. They were all facing her but some had turned their gazes away.  Suddenly a stinging jolt wrenched her being as the vicious cords cut into her back, a reward for her honor, and an example for the other slaves.

She clenched her teeth against the next blow, and welcomed the blinding sting and the throbbing ache that followed.  As each dug deeper her face became more determined.  And as the blood flowed, her heart hardened.

- - - - -

Suddenly it was dark and she opened her eyes to the dimness of night: the only sound was the soft creaking of the silent ship on the motionless ocean.  A thick mist had settled on the water and the night air was so still that the sails hung heavily like dead men. 

There was a blade in her hand as she slowly rose up onto the deck into the mist filled air.  She knew exactly what to do, as if destined in her course of action.  She would go to each man in turn, single handedly killing them all.  She would never again be sold to do another man’s bidding.  Her body would no longer ache from unwanted company.  She would be free.

Nine men, there were nine men who had the nerve to take her, and she would take their lives in return.  The first, the guard, had been easy enough to subdue, she had smothered him in his cot: the last taste he would ever have of her bosom.  The second she, the cook, slipped the deathly draught down his throat as he slept.  In the morning the crew would find him poisoned: a bitter end to his favorite drink.  The third, the ships doctor and scholar, she set ablaze upon a skiff and set it off: he had always gloated about his brightness, and she watched it silently sink into the fog, not even bothering to smirk at the dark irony.  The fourth, the magistrate, she gagged and bound bare to the bow near the figurehead, exposing him for what he really was.  The fifth, the coxswain, she pushed from the mainstay with a rope around his neck: he thought he had been well hung before.  The sixth, the financier, awoke before morning and saw the terror around him, and fearing what may happen to him took his own life.  As the musket sounded, the whole crew was awakened. 

As the morning dawned the realization of the one-woman attack did also.  With only three of her foes left, she was not willing to give up the freedom she could almost taste.  Her seventh victim, the captain, approached with his sword ready.  Being yet a girl she dodged and was too quick and sure-footed for her enemy.  A member of the crew tossed her a sword.  Her pursuer cursed at him for his mutiny.  But he forcibly reminded him of his own charter: every man had a right to defend himself equally when turned upon.  And so the duel began: one man fighting for his life and order on his vessel, one girl fighting for her life and her freedom.  In a vengeful lunge, the man fell upon her sword and she looked into his eyes as he breathed his last breath.  His close friend and confidant, the first mate and her eighth victim, charged when he saw his friend’s impalement.  But she pulled back from the body just in time, freeing her own blade and swung it around, lopping the man’s head clean off.

Only three men remained on the boat, staring at her. Each knew it was no easy feat for someone so young to take down eight men in a single night, and each already knew that this was no ordinary girl.  They stood aghast.   She stood before them, the front of her thin clothing stained with blood, and some loose hair caught in a red smear upon her own face.  Looking at her new crew, she stood tall.  She was almost free.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Sally sat up abruptly as her alarm brought her back to consciousness.  It seemed like she had only laid down two minutes ago.  Checking the clock, it was already eight o’clock.  Her hand rubbed over her face, the redness of the dream still blurred her vision when she closed her eyes.  Slowly she opened the curtains around her bed and readied herself for the day.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Jogging down the street towards downtown, Bowie trotted beside Sally.

“This isn’t the way we usually take,” he commented.  “Usually we stay on the outskirts of town.”

The blonde shrugged.  “I guess I needed a change of scenery.”

Turning onto Polar Avenue, Bowie trotted ahead of Sally.  Noticing she was no longer beside her, he turned.  She had stopped in front of Odds and Ends Junk Shop and was looking vaguely at the door. 

Bowie gruffly cleared his throat, trying to imitate a bark.

Sally slightly raised an index finger at him.  “Wait here a sec.”  She opened the door and stepped inside.

Epitomizing the long forgotten items it held, inside the dusky shop the air reeked of its undusted shelves and swam about like fog.  The bright morning sun strained to infiltrate through the dirty windows, creating a murky atmosphere.

She pushed aside a rusting wind chime as she wandered into a dark corner, the dull clunking echoing in the deserted shop.  She found herself searching a tall box.  She pulled out an antique umbrella with a long wooden handle, shaking her head.  Then she gasped as her fingers touched cool metal.

Her hand slipped around the leather handle as if she were slipping her hand into an old glove.  Pulling the rustic broadsword from the box she was awed by the feeling that swept over her.  She rubbed a finger over the small, carved V at the base of the blade.

“It’s only fifty dollars,” a craggily voice called from behind her.

She turned to look at the shopkeeper over her shoulder.  “I’ll take it.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

The sun was already down, and tonight the moon shone brightly although it was far from being full. The girls were positioned at various strategic spots along the supposed route and its alternatives. Techno had informed them that the truck, most likely with the logo of Z’s Furniture, would be hauling stolen jewelry from various robberies all over the United States.

Abra glanced around her, again drawn to the wave-like sways of the field below her. They seemed to take her to another time, another place.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The waves rolled although the ocean was calm, an overcast day on the high seas. She could smell the salt and feel the smooth rocking of her sturdy vessel as she watched the clueless vessel approach. She fingered the hilt of her sword and a sly smirk crossed her face as her men readied the cannons. The tenseness filled the ship; the anticipation was the best part, a euphoric high that no drug could compare to. Closer it came, and closer still, into a false sense of security due to the false colors waving high above the mast.

“Hoist our Colors!” she called. “Dead men tell no tales!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Abra lowered herself through the opening she had cut. But when her boots hit nothing solid beneath her, she dropped, landing professionally. She stayed in a crouched position until her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the trailer.

Scattered throughout the interior were various furniture crates all marked with large red letters warning of the fragile contents.

With her weapon still in her hands, she headed for the nearest crate, which came up to her waist. She jammed the sharp tool beneath the lid to pry open the wooden container.

* * * * * *

“Maybe I should pull over if you’re going to check the load?” asked the driver.

“No, we’re behind as it is,” shot back the passenger. “I’ll just take it easy. Just no more sudden lurches, okay?” He opened the door, the highway pavement zooming past three feet below the door jam.

“You sure about this? I could just pull over for a sec…”

“Just keep it straight!” he yelled as he stepped out of the cab and onto the step. As he disappeared around the side of the cockpit, the passenger door slammed shut.

* * * * * * * *

The pirate’s body tensed at the sound of the door. She hurried to the side of the trailer and with one thrust placed a small hole in the thin metal. Looking through to see a hand quickly wiz by, grabbing for a hold above, the pirate then turned and rushed to the large trailer doors, no doubt locked from the outside.

Again wielding her sword, she slashed out at the small sliver of air between the two doors. Then grabbing hold of one she pushed herself out into the night air. The slab of metal creaked as it swung out into the darkness, carrying its masked passenger. Seconds before it slammed into the side of the truck, Abra let go and grabbed onto the side of the trailer and found herself face to face with a rather large, muscular man, who looked surprised and angry to see her.

His large hand flew out to strike her in the jaw, but her free, gloved hand instinctively moved to block it. Then swiftly she jabbed it at the attacker and hit him square in the nose. His head bobbed back with the blow and his hand slipped from the trailer.

Abra reached out, barely grabbing the collar of his shirt, the man’s eyes filled with terror as he realized his life was in the hands of his foe. Then, his feet began to slip off the small ledge that ran around the trailer. Looking back up at the figure, his eyes were filled with unsaid pleading.

“It’s times like this,” she said, “When I think of that old pirate proverb.” She looked down, straight into his eyes. “Dead men tell no tales.” She smirked.

The large man’s eyes widened in terror and he gripped his hands tightly around the gloved wrist. But when she let go, his grip vanished. “Tuck and roll!” she called out after him, smirking wildly. She turned and continued up the side of the trailer to the cab.

* * * * * * * * * *