Incarcerate

Entry Seventeen

 Entry Seventeen.

 29-08-2012

There is a hushed buzz in the air, energy crackling and seeping through the walls. Preparations have begun, I can tell because there’s more movement, more sound – more activity.

Shay has also been gone for days; he seems so distant since that day when Arlo visited. I know that he’s burdening himself to make this plan perfect but he doesn’t understand…his effort is perfect enough.

I wonder how Grace is taking this.

I am scared shitless.

-End of Entry

The sound of crushing waves echoed through the noisy streets. People jostled by and kids ran and yelled but the dingy café stayed almost mute – without the exception of a few hushed whispers here and there. Shay pulled his hoodie closer to his face even though the humidity in the air did little for the amount of sweat that poured down his head. The rickety fan didn’t assist either as it lazily whirled in its axis.

He tapped his fingers impatiently as he took yet another drag from his cigarette and puffed the toxic smoke out and then switched to his badly made coffee to take a sip. He kept the combination going till the hanging doorbell broke the rhythm, signaling a new visitor.  Very discreetly, Shay took a peak at the stranger standing at the entrance. He stood still and scanned the area until his eyes zeroed on Shay’s slouching figure. He strode towards him with strong, purposeful steps until he loomed right in front of Shay.

“Walker,” the man gave a nod of acknowledgment and thrust his large palm forward, “Brandon Shaw, FBI agent.”

Shay and Brandon exchanged a strong handshake before Brandon took the seat opposite his very interesting client.

“So, I’m here as Mr. Clemont, I suppose you know that already, and I would appreciate it if you fill me in on the case,” Brandon got straight to business, “Can’t be making any mistake.”

“No, there’s no space for mistakes, Shaw, but some coffee?” Shay offered.

“No thank you, I see you’ve had enough for the whole community as it is,” Brandon glanced at the lined cups of coffee and then looked back up at Shay, his dark eyes ready to take in mission perimeters. Shay leaned forward, getting comfortable for all the details that were to be poured.

“I’ve already slipped your name into the guest book as a new bidder, your fake records have been researched and it looks all good…too good,” Shay muttered the last bit but Brandon gave it no heed and waited for further instructions.

“You are going to bid for Aalia Steyn and Grace Merwe. At eight-thirty, you enter through the main entrance on the North end of the building. I assume you have the blueprints of the building,” Shay raised his eyebrow, waiting for a confirmation.

Brandon gave him a single nod of conformation.

“Good. And you’ll be wearing a black trench coat and jeans. Don’t carry any weapon because you will be thoroughly searched but I will slip you a fully loaded revolver as soon as you get in, clear?”

Another nod.

“Any questions, Shaw?”  Brandon leaned closer, his stiff shoulders finally slumping and he gazed at Shay with curiosity.

“Does anyone else, in Arlo’s company, know about this charade?” Brandon interwove his large, ebony hands in a very… business-like manner.

“No, of course not,” Shay replied, a little confused.

“Then you better be sneaking out Walter, because two of your minions are just outside the café,” he said this so nonchalantly that it took Shay a few minutes to absorb the fact and suddenly, he leaped up. His head twisting to the window, and surely, two confused idiots stood gazing at the opposite direction.

“Not very subtle, are you,” Brandon chuckled, “use the kitchen door; it’ll lead to the alleyway. They’ll be walking in here any minute.”

“See you at the auction, Shaw. I’m counting on this same kind of precision and judgment,” Shay stated and with that, sneaked into the kitchen and out the door. Leaving behind an angry chef and confused staff.

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As he walked through the hallway, towards Alia, his heartbeat picked up speed. He couldn’t look at her; he couldn’t talk to her because the probability of everything going haywire was working up on him. He stood at the door, glaring at the multiple bolt mechanisms that kept her trapped and all the while listened to see if he could hear anything. But nothing, it was silent; the silence before a storm.

However, he heard a slight humming from a few doors away and the tune sounded vaguely familiar. He curiously followed the sing-song sound until he was standing right in front of another bolted hell, another door he was acquainted to. He put his ear to the door to listen to Grace as she sang to herself.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high

There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

A sob and a sniff followed.

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me

Grace’s voice got wobblier and the flow became choppy. She sniffled some more and as she sang, the pitch turned squeaky, almost dead

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh why can't I?

Her voice almost faded into oblivious. Shay started unbolting the door and swung it open, revealing a small girl hurdled in the corner. Her small hands were wrapped around her torso and the light illuminated the crystalline tear tracks on her cheek. Her head whipped to face him and slowly, he watched the fear subside to be replaced by a look that he knew very well; a look of a child who could use a parent.

Shay closed the door behind him and walked over to her, flopping down against the wall right next to her. He put his arm around Grace’s small shoulder and pulled her to his side, where she snuggled and let go of a few watery hiccups.

That night, a little girl needed him more than he could imagine Alia would.

So he stayed there for hours, reassuring and singing that heartbreaking lullaby, until he was asleep. He stayed even after that, just holding the little girls hand as she soundly slept in the begrimed bed.

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A/N: So I decided to get over my writers block and hopefully, it won't be coming back for a while :)

I think I have you guys to thank -- all of you adding my book to your reading list, voting and even you silent readers! Thank you for being such great motivation.

Well, not much of Incarcerate left. Just a little more left till the grand finale, so stick with me peeps.

Cheers.