Window of Time--Mission: Oasis de Huacachina

Window of Time--Mission: Oasis de Huacachina Part 1

Someone said the first year of widowhood was the hardest. They lied. Mac died one year ago tomorrow, and Lucy's heart ached for him as much now as it did when she woke in the hospital.

Going on missions with a CIA operative came with innate risks; Lucy had also known that. She'd kept him relatively safe for nearly all five years of their marriage-saving his life more times than she cared to remember. Now she worked alone. Being a courier had its dangers, too, but mostly from over-friendly male operatives who thought they were super-agents, and came looking for no-strings companionship.

Today, CIA operative Dan Warner had her stepping off a tour bus at the Oasis de Huacachina, in Ica, Peru, to meet him. He had a package for her to deliver to the Los Angeles CIA headquarters. A simple assignment. The sand-covered asphalt crunched under the soles of her ankle boots while beads of sweat slowly trickled down along her spine. Peru wasn't the farthest she'd traveled to receive a package, but it felt the hottest. The small body of water, surrounded on three sides by connecting hostels, in the middle of a high desert and huge sand dunes was a strange place to meet.

Using her smartphone's compass app, Lucy found west and started walking. A few tourists wandered the street. Some looked at maps supplied by the bus driver, while a couple others headed toward the hostel the bus had parked behind. Most of the language she heard was English, at least from the backpackers-young men on adventures. The Spanish spoken by locals had a European dialect; nothing she couldn't understand.

When she stepped off the hot paved road onto the warm, softer sand, Lucy straightened the wallet-sized purse slung across her body and lofted her well-worn daypack higher while she walked a little slower. No sense in looking like she wasn't just another tourist enjoying the day. Lucy glanced down at her jeans and loose black t-shirt. Her choice of clothing didn't make her stand out too much, but shorts would've been a better idea, considering the sticky heat. The gun in the sway of her back was tucked low enough it wouldn't be noticed unless someone searched her. She kept her leisurely stroll to the shade of the enormous trees lining the oasis's lake on her way to the bamboo bar set up against the hostel.

From a distance, she didn't see Dan yet. She must've arrived early-or he was a good agent and watched for her from a high spot, probably with air-conditioning. Lucy wiped the sweat from her brow with her fingers. Meeting in Peru might mean Dan's mission had been close enough the oasis was the most convenient safe place to exchange the "package," whatever it was.

Hugo Chávez died last year, and a new president had been "elected," so Venezuela would be a good guess. That might've been a situation worth spying on.

By the time Lucy made it to the tiny bar in front of the quaint Hostel Del Barco, she was tempted to take off her boots, turn around, and go wading in the water to cool off. She resisted. Instead, she dropped her daypack on a plastic chair at the closest table, and pulled her hair up into a low ponytail, securing it with a rubber band she found in her jeans pocket.

For Dan to notice her arrival, if he was watching her from a nearby window, or from behind a shady tree somewhere, Lucy needed to be conspicuous. She went up to the bar. A pretty woman with short pink hair and blonde roots was stringing Christmas lights along the edge of the bamboo roof. When the woman glanced at her, Lucy saw the most beautiful sky blue eyes.

"It doesn't feel like Christmas to me," Lucy told her, leaning against the polyurethane-coated bar top.

The woman laughed. "I know what you mean, ma'am-"

Ouch. Ma'am. That hurt. Twenty-eight wasn't old enough to be called "ma'am," and Lucy was sure she bore no signs of her previous marriage. She'd never worn a ring, even when Mac was alive. "Just call me Lucy."

The woman laughed again. "I'm Sara, and if it wasn't for my phone's calendar, I'd completely lose track of time." With one last leap, she placed the end of the lights across a nail and relaxed. "What can I get for you, Lucy?"

After looking around, Lucy sat on one of the three wooden barstools, and opened her mouth to answer, but-

She gasped as a phantom, icy wind swept across her face, stealing her breath. She knew the sickly cold feeling went unnoticed by anyone except her. It was a precursor to a phenomenon she'd known since she was a child-a warning that someone was about to be killed.

"It's happening!" a quiet voice in her head whispered.

Lucy's bright surroundings sank into the ominous blacks and grays she'd grown used to over the years. Just as quickly, the birds fell silent. The gentle movement of the trees ceased. All motion stopped, leaving the world as lifeless as an old black and white photograph, including Sara.

Lucy looked around until she found a young boy near the lake draped in vivid, surrealistic color, and still moving. It was as if a huge, frameless window encased him, and she could peer inside it to see his promised death. She knew she needed to pay attention to every detail if she was going to save the little boy in that narrow, secret window.

In the next moment, her prespective changed. Lucy stood on the beach. From her vantage point, she saw the child playing in the sand with a small red pail and yellow plastic shovel several feet away from an older girl in a bikini who was laying on a beach towel. She wore earbuds, and her eyes were closed.

The boy dropped his toys and toddled away from the girl. He clumsily scrambled onto a plastic boat stuck in the sand on the lake's edge. The boat rocked as he moved to the back-where he lost his balance. When he fell, he struck his head before rolling over into the water and disappearing beneath the surface.

Things changed.

Time rewound.

It was like it never happened.

Everything that was once in black and white rebounded in full color. The sky returned to its bold blue. The birds twittered playfully again. And Lucy had time to save that little boy from drowning.

"I'll be right back, Sara. I need to go check on someone." It took Lucy a couple of minutes to walk down to the beach and spot the girl on the towel. By the time she got near enough to push the girl's hip with the toe of her boot, the boy was closing in on the line of small boats.

The girl's eyes popped open. "What the-"

"Can he swim?" Lucy asked, lifting her hand toward the boy. He had reached the boat.

The girl sat up, tugging an earbud out. "Mikey!" she yelled. Her words weren't enough. The girl jumped up and ran for the curious boy. "You're so in trouble."

"It's been changed," Lucy said to nobody in particular as the girl picked up the young boy. He didn't climb in the boat-and he didn't drown.

An icy feeling roiled inside Lucy's chest, growing stronger with every heartbeat. In moments, a disabling side effect would overtake her. Changing the outcome to her windows came at a cost to her body. She needed a safe place for a minute. Seeing the abandoned beach towel, it looked as good a place as any. As she laid down, Lucy let the cold waves of unconsciousness flow over her-and she fainted.