A Little Bit Ninja

Epilogue: Make New Accomplices, but Keep the Old

Epilogue:  Make New Accomplices, but Keep the Old

We waited, cloaked in darkness, hidden in the alcove around the back of the building.  My head inched far enough forward for one eye to see all the way to the front of the building, and beyond, to the empty parking lot.

“It’s the only way,” I whispered again.

Even though we agreed not to use each other’s names outside—you never knew who might be listening—Abe knew it was directed at him, because he was the biggest impediment to my plan. I checked my disposable cell phone: 1:10 a.m., no new texts, and no missed calls.

“For the last time, no,” Abe sighed at me, “We have to keep it down to us six.”

Erica and Millie were late. They should have been here with the goods ten minutes ago, and each minute spent lurking in the near blackness stretched my nerves further than the last. I was ready to snap, my mind constantly running different scenarios as to why they didn’t make it on time.

Could they be lying in a ditch somewhere?

“But we don’t know how to do the stuff we need! We need an expert, or even just someone who knows what they’re doing,” I argued back, “We’ll end up dead before the mafia even shows up.”  

We’d had this particular discussion no less than fifty times—today.

What if my two best friends were captives of the mafia by now? And for the umpteenth time, I second guessed my decision to let them help in operation Homies Eat Dirt. We let Landon name it, because he was still upset about me beating him up, and rejecting him, and Millie too. But that’s beside the point.

 “If we let traitors in, we’ll get killed even faster. And since we don’t know who we can trust, we can’t trust anyone. Why else do you think the FBI hasn’t been able to take the mafia down by now?”

Even if the mafia hadn’t staged any overt attacks on Millie, Erica, and Landon yet, they would sooner or later. If they had half a brain cell to share among them, they would know that the girls who jumped out of the van to rescue us that night were my two besties. Our best theory as to why they hadn’t done anything rash—like killing, or hurting, or kidnapping our getaway helpers—was because they were watching them, hoping one of them would lead them to us.

And that’s why a rendezvous like this was so risky. The problem was, Abe, Anton and I couldn’t be seen in public. We learned that at the Paramore concert. But we still needed supplies and whatnot, and if we started stealing from the establishment where we hid, our presence wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.  

Abe ceased arguing for the moment, but I would probably bring it up again within fifteen minutes. I’m persistent like that. But at least Anton turned out to be an intelligent being. He didn’t get involved in the fights between me and Abe. 

After a moment of silence Anton moved up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my head. A smile crept onto my lips when Abe’s response was to turn back toward the parking lot without saying a word.

Maybe they stopped at Chick-fil-A for a late chicken sandwich? They’d better bring us some.

There were just so many things that could go wrong at any given moment, and the consequence for slip ups was as far reaching as death.  I sighed, praying that they were okay, and that I didn’t have two more reasons to hate The Boss after tonight.

I ran my hands up and down Anton’s arms, still awed, that Abe wasn’t threatening to chop parts of Anton’s anatomy off. He must have earned Abe’s impossible stamp of approval. Maybe my brother just couldn’t resist respecting a guy who left everything he knew behind, plus double crossed the mafia to help us get free. Oh, yeah, and then there was the bit when Anton saved Abe’s life, when he was bleeding out at a Bieber concert. That probably helped.