#117

She tried to get a sense of direction and time of day. The sun was low, but the temperature felt more like late morning than early evening, not that she was familiar with the February climate in Syria at all. Maybe she'd only been there an hour. Then why did she feel so parched and hungry? Could she have been lying there for more than twenty-four hours? Had she survived an entire day and a frozen desert night exposed to the elements, after being flung from a speeding car?

It suddenly occurred to her how fortunate she was to be alive. She thanked her lucky stars that she had no open wounds; she could've bled to death. Her goal now was to keep breathing, in honor of God or fate or whatever had managed to carry her this far. She thought of Andy and her friends, of seeing them as soon as possible.

She needed medical attention quickly. And that meant getting to the highway and getting a ride.

Fighting through the pain, she managed to slowly roll herself onto her belly. Then she reached out her hands, dug her fingers into the sandy soil and inched forward using her elbows, hips, knees and toes, as vehicles continued to pass by not twenty yards away. The pain was excruciating. She traveled half a body length before she was forced to stop and rest.

#116

She felt a warm wind whipping over her body. Where was she? A hotel room somewhere? Syria...she had flown to Syria. Had she forgotten to lower the shade? So bright. Cars driving at highway speeds every few seconds, not far away. This bed...it wasn't a bed at all...

She opened her eyes slowly. Holy Lord, she was outside. There was no vegetation in sight, only barren desert. She tried to lift herself, but her body ached all over. What had happened to her? She turned her head in the direction of the passing cars. Suddenly she remembered. The cab she'd entered at the airport didn't belong to a taxi service. How could they get away with...must have something to do with the riots. It was chaos here, and she'd become a victim of evil intent the moment she arrived.

She checked herself over. No sign of sexual aggression. Nothing left to her but the clothes she was wearing. How many passing drivers had noticed her there and done nothing? How long had she been there?

Every attempt to stand was met with unbearable pain. For the first time since she was a child, Michelle realized she may have to depend on the mercy of another human being to survive.

#115

Paul arrived, and Emily made her apologies as they had made reservations at an expensive restaurant months prior. Once they'd left, Brian made a proposal.

"Hey, we should all go to a nice place for dinner, too."

Ricardo, Rachel, and Andy Haines liked that idea and started discussing possibilities. Black Andy wasn't in the mood.

"Andy," said Ricardo, "we all love Michelle. We'll all be thinking of her. Let's do this in her honor. Let's celebrate her...and hope our thoughts and prayers bring her back to us."

A few minutes later they began making their way out of the restaurant to find a cab to pile into. But before they reached the door, a couple of familiar faces entered through it.

"Oh my Go...look who it is!" Ricardo shouted.

Hugs and handshakes ensued all the way back to their table, and questions were asked and stories begun. Aggie and Brady were finally home.

#114

When Ricardo and Rachel showed up at Little Nemo's, the others had already been there an hour and were embroiled in conversation at their usual table. It was Andy Haines' first time out with them since the events of Friday night that had led to his move into a hotel room, and he seemed to be doing alright. But Ricardo noticed all the fun had gone out of the younger Andy. He engaged him when he reached the table, as the others continued talking.

"Got it sent off?"

"Yep. I think we did ok."

"Awesome. So how you holdin' up, man?"

"Man, I dunno. All I can think about is 'Where's Michelle?'" Ricardo just looked at him, hoping to lend an ear and help in any way. Andy continued. "I just remembered on the way over here that it's Valentine's Day. Hadn't thought about it since I found out she was missing. Course, all I could'a done is call her at her hotel, but I'da done that anyway."

Rachel was listening in. "Man, your first Valentine's together and...that's terrible," she said, barely audible over the din of the restaurant. She put a hand on his shoulder, a very unusual gesture for her. "I'm so sorry."

#113

"And, sent." It was Tuesday afternoon and Emily sat at the head of the giant table in the largest conference room. Black Andy and Brian stood on either side of her. The other Andy sat a few chairs away. A large screen portrayed the contents of Emily's laptop display on the other end of the room. They had just delivered the entire contents of the next issue to their printing vendor electronically, a monthly ritual for the four of them. After five years using this vendor, the process was relatively smooth, though it always took at least three hours in this room together to work out last-minute kinks.

Normally Dave would be in the room with them, running things, but he was still en route from El Salvador. Number ninety-six would be the magazine's first issue that would go to print without Dave Pike's micromanagement on the last day. Brian therefore saw Aggie's and Brady's very brief incarceration as an unfortunate boost to his career, since it had been up to him to take the leadership reins. He would always think of this issue as his. He wanted to hug the others, but he restrained himself.

"Well, that's that," said the elder Andy, still looking at the screen. "Hope Dave likes it."

"If he doesn't hate it, I'll feel like we succeeded," the other Andy joked.

"Come on, Black, we did great work here," Brian said, grinning.

"I agree," Emily said. "Brian, congrats. I think it's a great issue. Look at that cover. I'm ready to see Belarus myself now! Michelle's pictures are fantastic." The reminder brought an ominous silence to the room.

"Four thirty," Brian said after a few moments, looking at his phone out of habit even though the time was displayed on the large screen. He sighed, his grin now gone. "Let's sneak outta here and head for Nemo's. First drink's on me today."

#112

"Excuse me," Jason said to the black-clad woman behind the reception desk. He spoke slowly to be sure she'd understand. "I'm looking for someone staying at this hotel. We work together. Her name is Michelle Owens. O-W-E-N-S." She didn't bother making eye contact and continued typing into her computer, so he wondered for a moment if she'd heard him at all. Finally she stopped typing and looked at him. She spoke with a thick accent.

"Michelle Owens reserved a room with us for five nights. Check-in date was Tuesday, yesterday." Hope sprang up in Jason's heart as she resumed her typing. "But she did not check in."  She continued typing and staring at her screen, as if making sure. Again she said, "She has not checked in, sir."

He thought about asking if he could be notified if she did check in, but he decided that was extremely unlikely. He briefly imagined her spending the night with some handsome Syrian man she met in the airport. No, all signs pointed to something bad happening to her.

"Thank you very much."

His next step, following Dave's orders, was to ask around elsewhere. He had no idea where to start.

#111

After Dave gave his orders to Jason, he and Pierce had argued, over delicious tamales de elote, about whether the police in Damascus should be notified. Then a sudden silence overtook the table as each of their thoughts turned toward Michelle. It was Brady who interrupted the solemnity.

"Thanks for breakfast, Dave."

Dave ignored him. The waitress filled their coffee cups. He ignored her, too. Suddenly the group wasn't speaking because they were afraid to. Aggie sipped her coffee, thinking a prayer for Michelle, and another for Jason, and wondering what would happen next. The waitress cleared the table; Dave paid and continued to drink his coffee in silence. Finally, after an eternity, he spoke.

"Let's go home."