The Unwanted Society

Chapter VII: Mission

Barcelona was going on her first so called mission today. All the others were noisily getting prepared in the living room. She stood alone in Christopher's bedroom. She'd been sleeping on the floor lately, her blankets bunched together in the corner. The radio hanging from the waistband of her leggings cackled.

            "Black bird to city. Read."

            Barcelona stood there for a second. The radio signaled again. "Blake to Barcelona. Please reply."

            Instead of talking, Barcelona clicked her button a couple times. Short, short, short. Long. Short, short, long. Short, long, long, short. Short, short. Long, short, short. S-T-U-P-I-D.

            She slipped on a tight fitting black t-shirt and strode outside. Blake was staring at her. "What was that?"

            Barcelona did a small smirk and reached for her radio. Long, long. Long, long, long. Short, long, short. Short, short, short. Short. M-O-R-S-E.

            Christopher came up from behind her. She didn't flinch. "It's Morse Code, Mr. Montez."

            His own radio hung low on his belt. Christopher glanced at Barcelona. "You ready?"

            She nodded, and that seemed to be the signal to take off. Blake, Alie, and Kristi stayed at home to monitor the statistics and radio communication. Typically, only Jason and Tanner would go, and Christopher would be supervision, but they wanted Barcelona to experience her first mission. She was determined not to let them down.

            Tanner and Jason stayed back, supervising this time at Christopher's command. The young leader led her behind a set of bushes. They were at 14325 Hopscotch Lane, a little pink house in a neighborhood of red-brick cottages.

            A little girl walked outside. She held a teddy bear close to her chest. A man trailed after her, his hands shaking, a strange glass shard lodged in his flesh. His entire body trembled as he collapsed to the ground. The girl tilted her head, putting an arm out. "Daddy?"

            He slapped her hand away, the action causing a metal object to slide off his belt. It didn't take Barcelona long to realize it was a kitchen knife. "Not now, Anne."

            She stared at the weapon, squeezing the stuffed animal harder. "What is that?"

            Her father picked up the handle. The blade facing her. He swayed as he stood up. The little girl's eyes widened as he held up the knife higher, steadier. Barcelona exchanged a look with Christopher. He pulled out his radio. "Child services. Now," he whisper-screamed.

            The father looked over at the bush, but quickly passed of the noise. "We might be too late," Christopher muttered.

            "Is he...drunk?" Barcelona asked.

            Christopher nodded. "And the mother isn't home to stop it."

            The little girl, Anne, took a step backward. In return, her father slashed once, making a slight slash mark on the teddy bear. Barcelona couldn't stand it anymore. She stood. Christopher looked up, his eyes almost as wide as the child's.

            "HEY." Barcelona screamed. The only time she'd been that loud was when her own father would fight with her.

            The man turned. The focus of his knife turned from Anne to Barcelona. Quick on her feet, Barcelona ran to the man. Just like before, she thought, hit, twist, take.

            That was just what she did. She disarmed the man in mere seconds. The weapon lay on the grass in the front lawn. Barcelona looked at the man dead in the eye. She slapped him once in the cheek. Hard. Like she used to with her father. "Think about what you are doing."

            He just stood there, reality catching up to him faster than lightning. He fell to his knees. From the left, Barcelona heard a little noise. "Daddy?"

            Barcelona looked over. The girl flinched. Barcelona's lips twisted into a frown. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispered.

            Anne looked up. "Are you here to take Daddy away?"

            Barcelona snuck a glance at the man pulsating on the ground. "I'm not."

            "Is someone going to take Daddy away?" Her voice trailed off as Christopher arrived behind them, followed by two child service officials.

            Barcelona went down on one knee, her voice sweet as honey. "Anne, listen to me. Your dad loves you. Just remember that. Promise me?"

            "Okay." Tears slid down her cheeks.

            "These people are going to help him get all better. All you have to do while you wait is remember what I said," Barcelona said.

            Anne nodded.

            "No matter what happens, he loves you."

            Anne rushed over and hugged Barcelona. "Promise me Daddy will be okay?"

            Barcelona hesitated. "Yes, honey. He'll come back because he loves you so much."

            The little girl let go, and child services took over. Since Christopher already presented their alibi – that they were walking together until they saw the father – the officials asked no questions. Barcelona walked down the driveway, hands in her pockets, a pools of tears glittered in her eyes. Christopher matched her stride. "Why did you keep saying that her dad loves her?"

            The eyes that looked at Christopher were filled with pain. "Because I wish someone had said that to me."