Savior in the Shadows

I hold the note out from my body like it’s a rattler getting ready to strike. This decision has to be a quick one. Torch it or don’t torch it? If I torch it, Sienna will never hear her father’s last words. If I don’t torch it, she could lose the innocence that’s shrouded her life since she was six years old. Life ain’t easy, huh?

I’m not an evil guy, in fact, this one act is defining, in that I don’t want my daughter to suffer any more at the hands of that loser of a drug dealer who played a part in her existence. Her father is not who she thought he was...does she really need to know that? In black and white? I mean, I’ve been her daddy all these years, this man only made her.

I move the lighter closer to the paper and watch as the corner starts to flame up, a satisfying inferno in the making that will change the course of time.

“What the world, Jax?” I hear behind me. That would be Kara, my wife, swooping in and grabbing the now burning paper out of my hand. She’s thrown it on the ground, stomping out the vestiges of life the fire had gathered.

Why did I do it, you might ask. Well, to understand it, I’d have to take you back to a different time and place and draw you a nice, detailed picture of the type of man Noel Briscoe was, and I’ll let you decide if he deserves the honor of being called a man.

Ten years before…

“I’ve seen you with that look before,” says my girlfriend, Kara, drawing me out of my memories from Afghanistan. The one that got away, not because I couldn’t catch him, but rather because I was ordered to stand back and let him go. He was pure evil.

Kara’s the only one lately who has the nerve to talk to me when I’m reliving some of the nightmare that took me hostage.

“Babe,” I say, trying to rein in my emotions, not wanting to lose my cool right here in the coffeeshop, “You always interrupt before I get to the good stuff.”

Running her hand along my arm, she hands me the cup of coffee with the mysterious sun-god lady on it.

“The way I understand it, there’s no good stuff, Jackson,” she says as she lowers herself into the seat across from me, “ain’t that why you live out here in the middle of nowhere drinking flavorless coffee and becoming a recluse with no ties?”

“No,” I answer her, scanning the coffee shop for the sixteenth time since we’ve been in this little hole in the wall strip mall, “I’m a recluse because I could be dangerous. I’m a trained soldier and I was denied permission to eliminate one of the most abhorrent, sick men in the world.”

“Melodramatic much?” she quips, rolling her eyes and taking a big un-lady-like swig off her coffee, “anyway, it’s been too long since we’ve spent time together. We need that time, Jax; we just got engaged and I spend as much time with you as I do my tax preparer. Besides, you need to be around people sometimes, even if it’s not me.”

I shake my head and reach into my inside jacket pocket to fumble with the corners of the worn little black book that resides there. She thinks it’s weak of me to hide out here, but I don’t care what she thinks.

“Listen, Jax,” she mumbles through her too-hot sip of coffee, “I’m a psychologist for heaven’s sake; you need to process your pain and move on; stop living in this limbo.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before she stands to leave, giving me a brief kiss and nearly bumping into the little girl who is making her way inside the coffee shop.

I continue to savor my coffee, pulling the little black book out of my pocket. Memories descend upon me like heat-seeking missiles. Grandpa…I sure do miss him…we spent hours flipping through this book of names, each one with a story that Gran was happy to share with me.

As a young boy, hearing the stories he told from his time in the Army affected me deeply, making me long for the day I would also have comrades who would die for each other and their country.

It was fitting that this was the only thing left by the time I came home from my last deployment. My cousins had descended on his house before the formaldehyde settled in his veins, I am sure. His little black book, such a big part of his life, was tossed aside, like a broken dish, because they didn’t know how to appreciate the truly invaluable things in his life. Their loss was my reward though.

Suddenly, I feel a small hand lightly touching my wrist from the side, causing me to jerk in that direction, ready to act against whatever threat there might be. Instead of a threat, I come face to face with the tiny face of a small girl. Instinctually, I return the book to my pocket and turn my head to study the child who has come over to the table.

“Mister, can you help me?” she whispers, little brown eyes darting back and forth around the room.

“What do you need?” I ask, wishing she’d keep her grubby little hands to herself.

Leaning in closer to me, trying to get to my ear, the little rug rat presses herself against my arm.

“I’m lost,” she says, “I was outside with my daddy and some people came that I didn’t know and wanted me to go with them, but I stuck close to daddy and didn’t go with them. But now I can’t find him.”

It’s then that I see him, walking through the door and coming toward the two of us with a pathetic, spaced-out look. Noel Briscoe, he’s clearly the same lowlife that he always was, missing a few teeth and appearing to have not taken a shower in at least a month. It’s not just him though. Appearing on each side of him are two equally sleazy looking creatures. One, a big guy, I swear he looks like Shrek. Then there’s one who looks like the Boogy Man has come alive.

“Clearly happy to see her daddy, Sienna runs over and wraps her little arms around his leg.

“Sienna…” he huffs, a little annoyed and a lot distracted by whatever is going on between him and Fric and Frac here, “you left your backpack out on the sidewalk.” He hands her the princess backpack, grabbing her little arms and shoving them through the straps.

“Daddy,” she says, her voice suddenly lowered, “Who are these people?”

“These are some old friends of mine,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I’m going with them for a little while and I need you to stay here. If anybody asks you why you’re here, you just tell them that I’ll be back in a little while to pick you up.”

“I’m just six years old, daddy,” she stammers, fighting off tears, clearly terrified to let him go, “I can’t…”

“You’ll be alright now, ya hear?” he says, nervously cutting her off.

I’m sitting here taking this all in with about a hundred questions going on in my head. I’m wary of this man who I know is one of the most feared drug peddlers in the area. Really, he’s why I came to this po-dunk town on this side gig after returning home.

I’m supposed to be bringing him down. Who would believe that I’d find my mark and he’d have a sweet little girl attached to his hip, begging him not to leave her? There’s no way I’d put this little girl in danger to take him in. Besides, I’m getting a feeling that these two men are staking their own claim on him. I’m sure he has no shortage of enemies.

As the men leave the room, I see that each of the men has a gun digging into Noel’s sides. The tingles begin and I know there’s real danger. The air around us has changed and I vaguely hear screams coming from outside.

“Run!” I yell, grabbing Sienna’s arm and shoving her toward the back door. We start running from the building like the devil himself is chasing us, heading for the woods that line the back of the building. The streetlight in the parking lot casts a glow over her features, illuminating the vulnerability in her eyes, in her entire demeanor. I notice her shadow and how it stretches, much bigger than she is, surrounding her in darkness. She’s suddenly swallowed up by her own silhouette as the light shifts and heavy blackness engulfs her. It’s as though the murkiness from her life is trying to grab her, to keep her from leaving.

I pull her up into my arms, jerking her away from that shadow that is trying to overtake her. I’ve got her now and I’m dragging her through weeds and brambles, climbing a muddy hill when we hear the first blast, which slams us to the ground. Glancing back, I see the entire strip mall blazing up, people running and scattering at a distance.

I carry her, stumbling, through the woods until we arrive at my cabin. I set to work cleaning her up and giving her a bowl of cereal.

Before she’s finished eating, her head starts nodding and I lean her back on the threadbare couch in my living room. Pulling a blanket over her, I see the backpack slipping from her little hands as though in slow motion. When it hits the floor, I see that it’s open and there’s a lot of money that comes tumbling out.

My eyes are drawn to the envelope tied around the bunch of hundred-dollar bills. I open the letter that is folded inside to read:

Her name’s Sienna and I’ve been taking care of her. Her real dad was in trouble and I had to end him. Couldn’t bring myself to harm her though. She was squalling so loud, I had to wrap her in a sheet and smuggle her out of the house. I couldn’t leave her there; she was just a baby back then. This money is hers; it’s $20,000. I took that when I took her; figured I’d need a way to feed her.

I shake my head, still processing those words, and glance over to the still-sleeping girl on my couch. I don’t know how it will work out, but what I do know is that I will make sure that no one ever hurts her again.

Present Day

The party’s still going on as I step out onto the back porch with the broom and dustpan. We always celebrate this anniversary of her adoption as though it were Sienna’s birthday. My gift to her is destroying this letter, though she doesn't know it.

I start to sweep up the remnants of the now-unreadable letter, sending the dark shadows that threaten her into the dustpan with the charred paper. I hear Sienna’s laugh inside, coming closer to where I am.

“Hey, Daddy,” she calls out, “what are you doing out there?”

“Just taking out the trash, baby girl,” I answer, quickly, “I’ll be right there.”

I take out grandpa’s little black book and run my fingers over the worn edges again, going through the options I had once more. I always think more clearly while getting lost in thoughts of the closeness that Gran and I shared. I think Gran would agree that this is what had to happen.

I pocket the book and join my family to finish celebrating Sienna’s Sweet Sixteen.