A Daughter's Duty

Chapter 11

The train had almost reached St. Davids, the only place near the Welsh edge with very little population, so there was a very good chance the oil refinery would be there. The sun had almost touched the horizon. An overnight train turned out to be very tiring. But all of us were alert, ready, and having very black bags under our eyes.

"Alright, let's go over it one more time." I said.

"Why?" Michael yawned, as he finished plastering his wound again and tapping it on the ground to make sure it didn't hurt.

"You know why." I said. "Now, when we reach St. Davids, we need to split up and search the around the borders of this city, looking for the refinery. And we have to do this within three hours. Then, once we find the refinery, we need to steal a few of the workers' uniforms. How do we do that?"

"We ambush a few that are going to work." said Mrs. N.

"Exactly." I said. "Then, what?"

"Mr. A, Ms. M, Mr. E, you and I will go to work," said Mr. O. "Mr. A, Ms. M and I will question the other workers and record the information on our tape recorders, which," he patted his pocket. "We already have."

"Precisely. Meanwhile, Mrs. N will go to the oil pumps, use a wrench to loosen one of pipes, so that at least a few quarts of oil spill. She will set a fire there, and to herself, and near the workers around her, so it will seem like it is an accident. Since she will be covered in fire retardant gel, she will come to no harm. This accident is certain to draw the attention the manager, who will leave his office to inspect it, which will give Mr. E and I enough time to break into the office and steal whatever proof we can find. We can escape during lunch."

"It is a very good plan, Ms. R," said Mr. A. "We will have all our firearms under our clothes. Let's hope we succeed." He glanced at Ms. M, whose brown eyes were staring outside the window, maybe wondering if she could see the refinery from here. I sighed.

"Well, it's not like we have a choice." I said. "If we don't succeed, Dunaway will be released from prison. Then, he will start tracking Michael and me down, and if he finds us," I shuddered. "I suppose today will be the last day we see you all." I shared a look with Michael, sitting next to me. I could see that, in his eyes, behind the determination and exhaustion, there was fear. Plain fear. Fear of death. Just like mine.

He placed a warm hand on my arm. I don't know why, but that touch took my conscious to years ago, as if the pages of a book had violently been blown backwards by a sudden gust of wind. It reminded me of the day I'd first met him.

It had been an August, in the year of 1973. My parents had just bid me goodbye as they got in their tiny Toyota, which had then been light blue in color. I saw my mum waving at me, but I just smiled at her, because, before age of ten, I hadn't been entirely sure if they were my parents or not.

"Cupcake," my Gran said, who could then walk without a walking stick. "What is wrong?"

"Where are they going?" I asked in my tiny childish voice.

"They-they have to get on an airplane, sweetheart," she said. "They're going to India, can you believe it? They will go to all the old places and search for the belongings of the people from olden times. Doesn't that sound magnificent?"

I shrugged. "But why can't they stay here?"

She sighed and hesitated. "I told you, they're archeologists. They can never stay home." She  gave me the keys to my bike's lock. "Go, have some fresh air." And she went home before I could even ask her what an archeologist was.

I rode the bike all across the neighborhood and was just coming back when I saw a huge moving truck behind a red car head my way. I skid into the parking lot of my apartment, and observed as the vehicles had parked right in front of it. A couple came out of the car. The man looked inside it again and said, "Alright, stop complaining! Just take the keys and go!"