Fearless (12 page)

“OH, SHIT,” SAM MUMBLED, STILL clutching Gaia as the guy who had attacked Zolov came near, flanked by two guys on each side. The guy’s lips were grossly misshapen, and he looked mad enough to dismember, if not kill.

Suddenly Sam found himself holding Gaia even tighter, but strangely, his motive had transformed He no longer wanted to pull her limb from limb; now he felt an urgent need to protect her.

There were five of them. Count them, five. Three of them were big. Two of them looked young—in their middle teens, maybe, and not totally filled out. For a moment he buried his eyes in Gaia’s soft, pale hair.

If it weren’t so surreal and horrendous, he would have laughed. In the last five minutes he’d thrown the first and second punches of his life, found himself wrestling on the ground with the object of his infatuation—not only brilliant at chess but a match for Hulk Hogan. Now he was holding her in his arms and smelling her hair as he faced imminent death at the hands of five angry gang members while his ancient friend and mentor was possibly bleeding to death.

“Get off your girlfriend and stand up,” the slasher demanded roughly.

Somehow it didn’t seem necessary to point out that Gaia was not his girlfriend. They sorted out their limbs and both stood up. They exchanged a look, filled with things he couldn’t decipher. Amazing how quickly your enemy seemed like your friend when faced with a worse enemy.

“Jesus, it’s
her”
one of the guys said.

Sam looked at Gaia again. He couldn’t guess what that meant. “Leave her alone,” he barked at them, stepping forward. He suddenly felt like he was playing a role in a movie, portraying a character who said and did things he never would. Best to keep pretending because reality—namely five guys (and possibly one girl) who wanted to kill him—was hard to take.

“Gaia, go,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll be okay.” Ha! Had his character really just said that? She was standing so close, he could still feel the warmth of her body. It was intoxicating—really not what he needed at the moment.

The guy, the swollen-lipped slasher, was only a few feet away now, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. His friends had circled Sam and Gaia. Two of them wore floppy hoods, covering their shaved heads and keeping their faces in shadow. Another had a Doo-Rag pulled low over his forehead. As he looked at them Sam was weirdly calm and disconnected. He was resigned to getting beat up. He felt more scared about what they might do to Gaia.

“Let her go,” Sam said.

The guy’s smile was grotesque with the swollen lip pulling in odd directions. “My bud CJ thinks she did him wrong.”

One of the hooded guys came forward and grabbed Gaia by the shoulders. He dragged her

several yards from Sam, pinning her arms to her sides in a bear hug.

The horror was now dawning on Sam. He felt bile rising in his throat. Anger mixed with fear to make desperation. Gaia’s eyes were huge and luminous.

He went after the guy who held her. Fast, without letting himself think too much, he hauled off and punched the guy, catching his jawbone so hard, his knuckles blazed. Gaia slipped quickly out of the guy’s grip.

Get away, he urged her silently. Run away and get—

He’d grabbed her waist and was about to physically shove her when a slamming blow to the back of his head shattered his mind. He spun around and got a sharp kick in the stomach. He was lying on the ground now, disoriented by the number of arms and feet and faces spinning against a sapphire sky. A kick landed on his chest and took his breath away.

He saw Gaia’s face over him, glowing white like an angel’s. Broken thoughts and feelings lay in pieces, with edges sharp enough to cut. He reached for her. He wanted to tell her something, but he couldn’t fit the aching, full-hearted feelings into words. The last thing he saw from the corner of his eye was a Timberland coming at the side of his head. After that, thankfully, he saw and felt nothing.

GAIA WASN’T AFRAID. SHE WAS never afraid. But she felt the abstract terror of a world without Sam, without the idea or the possibility of Sam, and she didn’t want to live there. It felt so dark and arid that it would surely dry up all of her senses and parch her last blossom of hope.

Her rage exploded, less controlled, more intense than ever before. The five of them became an indistinguishable mass to her, without human features. She took them on as one multilimbed creature. Her adrenaline carried her, so she didn’t have to think or count or predict.

She took one of them out with her fist Clean, just like that. Another one required a combination of kicks to finish him off. In the process she took a sharp jab in the ribs and another guy’s fist caught her in the forehead as she tried to duck. She could feel the blood gathering at the wound. The red drips were a nuisance in her eyes, but she was too far gone to feel pain.

Two of the guys bobbed in her peripheral vision. The third she had head-on in her sights. She planted a kick in that vulnerable place in his neck just as another one slammed her from the side. Another down, she registered as she tried to find her balance. Then

came another slam from the side. The blood stung her eyes and tinctured her mouth with its coppery flavor. Head wounds bled too much. It was a shame. She might not have enough time.

Two weaving heads, eight thrashing limbs. It was an ugly but simpler creature that remained.

Her gaze swept over Sam’s still body, and she had an almost overwhelming need to go to him, to kneel over him and make sure he was breathing.

Bam! A blow to her stomach sent her sprawling on the ground.
Focus, Gaia,
she urged herself. She had to focus as hard as she possibly could to get them through this. Loss of blood made her hazy and faint.

Another guy came rushing toward her at an angle she could use. She caught his momentum and threw him over her head. He rolled twice. It gave her enough time to get back to her feet. But just as she did the other one smashed her from behind and sent her back to the pavement. As she raised her head, she saw a pale, scared face peering from a stand of trees. She knew the face. He took a few steps forward.

“Renny, you little shit, get over here!” the bigger of the guys bellowed.

Renny was frozen, except for his face, which quivered like a squirrel’s.

Suddenly Gaia felt her arms wrenched roughly behind her back. The two of them were holding her. She

tried to jab her way free with her elbow, but she couldn’t move it.

“Come on, little boy, here’s your big chance!” the other guy called.

Gaia didn’t feel like writhing to get out of their grip. It was a waste of time. The blood was leaving her head and making her feel tired. She wished she could just pass out and be done with it.

“Renny! Step up, man. You in or out?”

Renny took another step forward. He looked terrified at the sight of Gaia, no doubt something right out of a horror movie with all that blood on her face and shirt.

Suddenly Gaia saw the dull glint of steel. She thought she was imagining it at first. But even the idea was enough to clear her foggy head.

Yes, it was real. She could see it clearly now. The fat-lipped guy was pushing a gun, a .38-caliber pistol, into Renny’s hand. Where had it come from? Why hadn’t she been paying better attention? “Finish her off, Renny. Do it now!”

Gaia’s adrenaline level notched up. Her body was on full alert, but her mind had entered that dreamlike state, wondering numbly, philosophically, whether this was the end of her life. There were few physical brawls she couldn’t find her way out of, but a gun changed everything. It empowered the cowardly and rendered skill, bravery, and character useless.

That was why Gaia, though she was trained to be an exceptional markswoman, never used one. She’d rather lose on her terms than win on those. Now the gun was in Renny’s hand. Shaky, but pointing directly at her. He wasn’t looking anywhere near her eyes.

Oh, this was hard to take. Was little Renny, her favorite chess whiz, really going to sink a bullet into her? It seemed like a very bad life where that would happen. If he was going to, she hoped he would get on with it because she didn’t feel like sticking around much longer to watch.

Renny looked like he was going to puke. His eyes were glazing over, and his skin was the color of iceberg lettuce. He came up so close, she could hear his breath. She was staring down the barrel of the gun. She pulled her eyes back to Renny’s.

Look at me, she demanded of him silently. Look at me!
Look at me!
If he was going to do this, let him do it for real. Let him know the full meaning of popping that trigger.

Don’t be a coward, Renny. Look at me!

At last he did. His eyes lighted on hers. He hesitated only a moment Then he turned and ran like hell. Gaia heard the gun clattering on the pavement.

Good boy, Renny, she told him silently as he sprinted for the streetlights.

“Freakin’ coward,” one of the guys muttered.

It gave Gaia the burst she needed. She slammed her heel as hard as she could into one guy’s shin. When he let her go to clutch his leg, she wrenched herself free from the other guy and followed up with a searing blow to the side of the injured guy’s head. Then another rapid jab to his abdomen. He crumpled, gasping for breath.

She lunged for the gun, grabbing it from the ground. Without a pause she hauled off and threw it. It traced a high arc through the sky. She didn’t have time to watch where it landed.

She faced the last one now. He was familiar to her from another time, but her head was too blurry to cobble together a memory. His lips were swollen, and his jacket was speckled with blood, probably hers. Gray spots grew and multiplied, clouding her vision. She heard the punch to her shoulder before she felt it. She stepped back and shook her head in the hope of clearing it. She came forward and cracked her fist across his nose. His fist landed hard on her cheekbone. She reeled back, losing her footing, almost falling directly onto Sam.

On your feet, girl, she begged herself. But then she heard something. It was faint but approaching fast and sounded to her more beautiful than a Mozart symphony. The guy heard it, too. He stopped. Listened. He gave her a last look before he ran.

Bless you, Renny, she thought as she fell back against Sam, listening to the siren coming near.

She turned as gingerly as she could. She put her hand on Sam’s chest. He was breathing. He definitely was. She put her hand gently on his cheek, then skimmed her fingers over his battered eye. She smoothed his hair back from his beautiful forehead. She hadn’t touched another human being like this in almost five years. Transfixed, she ran her trembling hand from the cool softness of his upper cheek to the masculine stubble of his chin. His perfect skin was broken in several places. What had she done to him?

And almost more disturbing, what had he done to her?

Tears spilled from her eyes and mixed with the blood drying on her face. A drop of the pink moisture landed on his forehead. And another. It blended with the beads of sweat on his brow.

She felt like she was entering a trance as she lowered her face toward his. She touched her lips against his with exquisite gentleness, slowly deepening the kiss as she surrendered her heart.

She heard voices coming near. She lifted her head. Sam’s eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

She could die now. She laid her head on his chest and melted away.

To: L

From: ELJ

Date: October 2

File: 776244

Subject: Gaia Moore

Last Seen: Washington Square Park, New York

City, 8:37 P.M.

Update: Subject hospitalized after prolonged fight with several gang members and a man identified as Sam Moon, age 20, sophomore at NYU. Three gang members arrested at the scene, two others fled. Old man known as Zolov was taken to the hospital and treated for a surface wound to the face. Subject received surface wound to the head, resulting in considerable loss of blood. Multiple contusions. Expected discharge 10/3.

To: ELJ

From: L Date: October 2

File: 776244 Subject: Gaia Moore

Unacceptable. Subject was not to be injured under
any circumstances
. Contact me immediately for new placement.

When he was near her, his own mind betrayed him. The smartest thing he could do was stay away from her permanently.

“IT’S SO TRENDY, ALMOST BLEEDING to death. All the cool girls are doing it.”

Gaia didn’t open her eyes. Instead she considered the voice, felt the calloused hand wrapped around hers. She meant to smile, but it came out wobbly. “Hi, Ed,” she said.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a small bundle of orange carnations perched in a Snapple bottle on the bedside table. “Those are such boy flowers,” she noted in a weak, slightly raspy voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Only a boy would buy dyed carnations,” she explained. “Girls buy less obvious stuff, like tulips and irises.”

“Are you saying you don’t like them?”

“No, I do like them. I accept that you are a boy. I’m happy that you are a boy.”

Ed looked happy that he was a boy, too.

“So who did you beat up this time?” he asked.

“That sounded like a question,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. This is like reverse
Jeopardy
. Um … let’s see…. You beat up ten guys, each four times your size, and one poor bastard got in a lucky punch.”

She nodded. “Pretty much. Only multiply the equation by one-half.”

“Only five guys.” He shook his head. “You’re losing your edge.”

Gaia studied his face thoughtfully. “I guess you could say it was six guys—only one was kind of a mistake.”

“A mistake.”

“I got in a fight by accident with Sam—Heather’s boyfriend.”

“Wow, you really do get around.”

“I didn’t mean to. I thought he’d slashed Zolov, the old guy who plays chess in the park. But it turned out Sam was only trying to help.”

“I see. But you discovered that
after
you knocked his head off.” He made an obvious effort not to let the end of his sentence bend into a question.

“Sort of,” she admitted.

“Mmmm. Maybe you’ll find an excuse to beat up Heather’s parents next.”

“Ha-ha-ha.”

Gaia closed her eyes. Her right cheekbone was throbbing, the cut on her forehead stung, and her stomach muscles ached. She was suddenly too tired to think.

“Hey, Ed,” she finally said.

“Yup.”

“Thank you for trying to be my friend.”

“Am I succeeding? Uh … I mean …” He cleared his throat “I am succeeding.” He said it in a deep, smooth voice, like a news anchor.

She laughed. “Annoyingly well.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad.”

She moved her toes under the stiff sheets. “Is Heather still in the hospital?” she asked.

Ed nodded. “Two doors down.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, they moved her out of the ICU. She’s going home tomorrow, just like you. Maybe you two can have a joint party.”

Gaia sighed “I still need to apologize to her.”

“I don’t see why.”

“For almost getting her killed,” Gaia said.

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Was.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Was.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Was.”

Ed let out his breath in frustration. “Gaia.”

“What?”

“You have got to get over yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not everything bad that happens has to be about you.”

For no reason that she could understand, tears flooded Gaia’s eyes. Something big grew in her throat that prevented her from swallowing. Ed was getting

close to a place that hurt, and she wanted him to go away. She tipped back her head so the tears wouldn’t spill over her bottom lids. Thank the Lord for water cohesion.

Ed watched her carefully. His expression was gentle but serious. “You’re tough as hell, Gaia, but you’re not a god. You’re made of the same stuff as the rest of us.”

“Ed?” she asked in a thick voice. “Would you leave now? I think I can only handle having a friend in five-minute bursts.”