"HOTEL CEUTA" - PART 11
FEBRUARY 19, 2018
CEUTA, SPAIN
SuperSol Supermarket (Outside)
Years of experience and some pointers from Doc had taught Jackal that pain was a sense like any other, and could be stifled - and in some cases, outright ignored.
Half an hour after the abrupt shootout with Nicolás and his men, Ryad sat in the passenger seat of the car, waiting for Mira in the parking lot of the SuperSol Supermercados near Juan de Borbón Avenue. The pair had decided quickly that a supply run was in order... medical supplies and first-aid kits made the top of the list.
A wave of numbness had blanketed Ryad before settling in, skin-deep and relentless. He couldn't stop replaying Nicolás's death. His childhood friend had been murdered in cold blood right before his eyes.
Ryad could picture Nico hollering obnoxiously after scoring another goal in a street game after school. He could remember Nico's crooked-toothed smile as he flipped an obscene gesture at the goalie, sparking laughter from their teammates.
The goalie, another kid named Miguel, sullenly scooped the fútbol up and hurled it at Nico, along with a colorful torrent of friendly insults.
Ryad could hear his young self laughing with the others. Nico turned and flashed another vulgarity with such finesse that even Miguel burst into laughter.
Suddenly he was back in the warehouse with Elena. The gunshot rang out. Echoed in his head. Bounced through his memories.
This time, he saw Nicolás as a young boy, dressed in the same t-shirt and shorts as he was on the day he scored four goals on Miguel.
The boy pitched forward. Blood in the air. Face smashed against the table.
Ryad blinked, forcing the distorted flashback away. He hated this part of deaths in the field. For some, flashbacks didn't come until years after the incidents. For him, they came immediately.
It made him feel weak.
The man cracked open the door and spat out onto the asphalt. All around him, people were living their lives as usual. Just to the north, beautiful blue waters called for all eyes to admire. Clusters of small stores and café shops were any direction he looked - windows to a life more ordinary, one he would never be able to live.
He saw a mother pushing her little girl in a stroller. The woman bounced with every step, loving life, confident in where she was going and what she was doing.
Ryad.
Ryad drew in a sharp breath and shut his eyes tight. He knew it was just in his head, but Faisal lingered a bit longer in his mind before taking leave.
He opened them again and breathed the coastal air in before shutting the door once more. As he did, Ryad saw Elena stroll out of the supermarket with a paper bag in hand, forcing a smile as a young man rushed to hold the door open for her.
There was a different light to her eyes, out here in normalcy and away from gunfire. Ryad chuckled to himself when she squinted against the sunlight, fumbling for the sunglasses that hung at the collar of her shirt.
As she neared the car, he leaned over and popped the driver's side door open for her.
"Careful, now," Ryad jabbed mischievously. "The sun is bright, remember? I saw it nearly blind you, Elena. Maybe you need to leave Hereford for a few months, sí? Get some sunshine in your life."
Elena slumped down in the seat. "You're an idiot. And don't dote on me," she mumbled. "You know I hate that shit. I can open the door myself."
YOU ARE READING
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