Page 58 of The Shade of Things
14
It had to be a coincidence,didn’t it? Because working out the series of events that had to have happened for Isla to be deliberately placed here to confront Laurent involved a level of mental gymnastics that I couldn’t fathom.
“Mir.” Eli beckoned me over.
A Black man with a dad bod in an AFC Leopards soccer jersey and some guy with tattoos up his neck and hairy forearms kept to themselves in a far corner.
There were two factions here then: that duo and Laurent’s friend leading the other three. Bad blood or just a difference of opinion? Would the two groups first turn on each other before taking out their own or would new alliances be formed before then?
How exciting, I thought wryly. This place is puzzle heaven.
Eli introduced Emmett and me to the trio in a clear voice, then said the word “Canada.”
I’m not sure if they all understood the word “golem,” but they took Emmett in stride.
A brown-skinned woman in cycling shorts and a sweatshirt touched her chest. “Daw. Thai.” Player number two, she had powerful thighs and a broad back.
“Daw is a rower.” Eli made the motions, so she’d know what he was talking about, and she nodded in confirmation. “She has the same physique as D’Arcy? Remember her from university?”
“Yeah.”
The other two were stocky Mateo wearing business casual attire from Costa Rica (number seven), whose arm was in a makeshift sling, and tall pale Felix in a stained button-down shirt from Germany (number four). Neither were athletes. Mateo was an engineer and Felix was a professional chess player, which surprised me.
The Consortium or whomever didn’t just choose people for their physical prowess then, but also ones with a high intelligence quotient, able to reason and problem solve better than the average person.
“Mateo was the one who figured out how to escape the shifting streets,” Teresa said. “Instead of taking off, he came back to explain it to those of us still picking up our packs at the house.”
Mateo smiled. “We are stronger as a team.”
“You are,” I said. “And now you have us.” I raised my voice so the two men in the corner could hear me as well. “We’re going to get you out of here alive. All of you. I promise.”
A loud crash from outside interrupted any reaction to my vow.
Felix jumped. Daw grabbed the switchblade from inside her bra with a grim look while Mateo stiffened, his good fist up.
All three of them breathed shallowly, their eyes fixated on the elevator, and no one relaxed until it was clear the car wasn’t going anywhere.
Eli grabbed the first aid kit out of the pack and set about examining their injuries while the newcomers filled us in.
Mateo spoke in Spanish-accented English, explaining that player number one, the hairy man in the corner, was Rahm from Israel, and dad bod, number twelve, was Okeyo from Kenya.
He had to pause at this point because Eli had corralled Emmett into helping pop Mateo’s dislocated shoulder back into place. Even though I didn’t look, the cracking sound and Mateo’s cry made my stomach lurch.
Felix took over, saying that the pair kept to themselves. They hadn’t caused any problems since they’d joined forces on the way into this section, but they hadn’t contributed anything either.
I took notes at top speed.
As forthcoming as the group was, they still huddled close together, barely allowing Eli into their personal space. I kept Emmett and myself farther back.
Eli moved on to Daw, examining the ugly gash on the back of her calf.
“How did you get inside?” I asked since none of the other windows had been broken.
Daw made a hand gesture of an explosion. “Boom.”
“Isla had some kind of…” Felix looked to Mateo for the English word.
How would we successfully work together and keep everyone safe if we couldn’t communicate? Mateo seemed bilingual, Felix less so. How much did Daw understand? What about the two other men we had yet to speak to? What if we couldn’t convey crucial instructions and someone got hurt or killed?
