The Gypsy At Sunrise

Chapter 2: This Can't be Happening

Chapter 2:

This Can’t be Happening

District 17, Halayeb, June 2011

“What are you talking about Joey? Did Aro finally find out what Timbo means?” I asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go!” he said as he pulled me onward. Azra put an arm around my shoulders, making me blush, and pushed me forward. I could feel his stare burning on the side of my face, and my heart quickened. I looked up at him and half-smiled.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied. I turned and we walked into the meeting room, which is really a small kitchen with a couch and some chairs around here and there. All the twenty ripped men huddled together, while Tore, the man who, other than Azra, raised me, placed me on his lap. This left Azra with a pout—he and Tore used to argue for hours when I was younger in who should feed me, bathe me or clothe me. Now, they argue who I should sit beside, or sit on top of. I am not a rag doll to be passed around. But I giggle anyway, despite my pride. It is really hard being the only girl, other than Tasha, Aro’s girlfriend, in a rebel group. I inwardly sighed.

The thing is, I secretly wish to be in Azra’s lap, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. The very few times that I was on Azra’s lap, I felt really tingly. Shit, I hope this stops—I don’t want to be thinking of my best friend like that.

Everyone looked cheerful as they looked up to Aro. He smiled proudly of himself and told everyone the plan.

“Hey everyone, I have some good news. We know what ‘Timbo’ means!” he started. Everyone blasted in wolf howls and smacked each other’s backs, hugging. Except Azra—he just stood at the corner, completely still, staring off into space. I, on the other hand, sat on Tore’s lap, impatiently waiting for Aro to continue.

“Okay, what does it mean and how do we get to the vantage point?” I asked. Everyone shot a glare at me for ruining a great moment. I rolled my eyes, and gestured Aro to continue.

“Okay Miss Cranky, here it is. Timbo is key password often used in ancient relics here in Egypt. It symbolizes spirals—my guess is a spiral stair case. The government rebels have recently built a tunnel underground, and I thought that they were going to attack from underneath. But after our encounter this morning, I went to their main camp alone and sought out a blue-print. It was staircase underneath to a cockpit. It’s called the Timbo. I put the blueprint back though—so they don’t notice anything suspicious.” So it wasn’t at all mountains like we thought it was. It was underground.

“That’s great! When do we leave?” I asked.

“Right after dinner tomorrow—we’ll attack at night.”

---

I was putting on my gear, placing my knife in the hook of my boot strap, slung a gun over my shoulder and out some Ammo in my bag. I was about to paint my face with black marks when a warm hand took my own. I gasped, prepared to take the knife from my boots, but the hand took that too. I followed his muscular arms, to his chest, to his shoulders and met blue eyes under the moonlight. The very same eyes I met almost eight years ago.

“Azra?” I asked. He simply nodded and took the black paint from my hand.

“Let me paint you,” he said, not asking for permission. I simply let him work his magic. When his fingers touched my skin, it went sparking with electricity and my breath caught short. His fingers were almost done as they made their way to my lips. He stared at them for a long time and the snapped to my eyes. I realized that I was staring at his soft lips as well.