Blind Sky

Present Day

After two years of brutality and assignments, the war came to a close, and anyone affiliated, linked, associated, allied, or had any connection what so ever with the masterminds behind the war were either killed, or in custody, and Logue agency served as a central role in helping.

As a result of the war, Government and Authority Official’s instituted several security measures, and new laws to reinforce and maintain order for all divisions, with the exception of Division 19 which had their separate affiliation. My hometown, Gold Coast belonged to Division 18.

All weapons were apprehended from all divisions, and could no longer be bought or sold to citizens. Only officials and a select few approved citizens were allowed to carry or have weapons. There was tight security and amplified border control on anything entering or exiting the continent. Everything was regulated, controlled, restricted, and to be managed only by Authority Officials.

Once we won the war, my assignments declined, and it took a while before I settled into a regular routine, though I wanted to. I tried to maintain as much normality as possible, even getting a job doing mammal research for the Australian Science Department. It was predictable and conventional, and what I needed, though it took time to adjust.

The guy that murdered my mother was killed, unfortunately not by me. Within days after completing my training, a message, which included him and four other members of their group sent messages to all local and major news station and the agency, warning everyone to surrender.

He walked into one of Authority Official’s’ headquarters in Sydney with a bomb strapped to him. He killed himself and other innocent civilians.

Life apparently gives us one chance to get it right, or so they say. And I’ve come to the same conclusion every time. Life’s not always fair. Instead of two worlds, marked good and evil, there should be an in between. A median for those who aren’t saints, but don’t want to harm anyone.

Killers like Von, a contract assassin, responsible for four bombings, hundreds of fatalities and a rap sheet of convictions longer than a Santa’s helpers shopping list was capable of surviving six attempts on his life before I baited and trapped him, after a private invite to dinner. He had a weakness for women. Why was he given so many chances?

Then there’s Marge, mother of three and the city’s local charity helper. She donated several years to countless charities, though she struggled with arthritis and a bad back. She loved serving her pineapple upside down cake, greeted everyone with warmth, kindness, and took care of others more than she took care of herself, giving whatever she had to people in need. Her brow would curl in delight when all the recruits scuffled down her food, while the years of service showed on her ivory skin now blotched with age spots and a leathery exterior, which marked her earlier years sunbathing on the beach.

On assignment to capture Saveen, charged with swindling $100,000, and shooting an Australian guard inside the buildings second floor headquarters in Gold Coast, Saveen held Jamie, Marge’s son hostage, and shot him, and Misty fired the shot that killed Saveen.

Misty and I both knew Jamie. He was seventeen, medium height, slender with a great deal of mousy brown hair, despite never properly grooming it. Still being in a band allowed him the exemption to do so. He was a fantastic drummer, and known around town for his band. He lived in Misty’s community, two miles from my house and never caused any problems, minus the few noise compliments from neighbors Misty told me. Eventually, the event of that day was too much for Misty and she resigned from the agency after a few months.

******

Derek calls and he is overly ecstatic, so I suspect he is up to something. An explosive noise erupts and roars. I glance outside the window viewing the antique cranberry red car. The paint job looks new, custom paint I assume. It’s a nice car, though definitely too big and something I wouldn’t select.

Derek waves up, signaling me to come down, and I have to go, or my neighbors might report him.

“I’ll be right down,” yelling through window. “And stop honking the horn. Are you trying to piss off the neighborhood?”

“Then get down here already.”

He is beaming from ear to ear, standing next to the car, feet crossed in front of him.

“This yours?”

“Yup, all mines,” and grins. “Come see.

“Derek, it’s nice.”

“Nice!” he exclaims.

“Oh, she’s more than nice. She’s a beauty, just look at her, her form, her curves. And the speed…It’s just not a car, Sky. This is a classic; a 1965 Chevy Impala SS. I’ve been eyeing it for a while and I finally got it,” he pride fully brags on.

“Were did you get it?”

He slides his fingers on top of the front hood, mesmerized….“Online. I almost got out bid, but I got it. I won the bid.”

“I am happy for you, Derek, if this is what you wanted.”

“Yes it is,” his eyes fixed on the car.

He sighs. “Sky, you don’t understand. It’s in great condition. The previous owners did a fantastic job with maintenance and upkeep. This is a gem; worth every penny.”

“Hopefully not too much.”

“For the condition this car is in, it was exceptionally priced.”

I wanted to ask how much, but since he was so enthralled in the car, didn’t want to damper his momentous triumph because his eyes are lid up like a child on Christmas day.

“We’re taking it for a spin. You got shotgun. Get in,” he yelps, opening the door then rushes around to the driver’s side.

“Buckle up,” his eyes glowing with excitement.

The car has a pleasant smell, like sweet strawberry or watermelon and the interior matches the cranberry red paint on the outside.

“There’s a lot of room in here,” sinking into the wide seats.

“I know, it’s great,” he replies.

The dashboard in front is painted red, complementing the pearl white seat fabric with vertical red stripes situated down the middle, with the SS inscription engraved in the center of the seats.

“Ready to ride,” gripping the large steering wheel. “You gotta feel this baby move Sky.”

He turns the key, the engine roaring loudly. And it’s only a matter of seconds, before he peels out of the driveway like a maniac.

“Feel that baby….I love this car!” The car accelerates, Derek pressing on the gas like a crazed person.

“Derek,” I yell…. “SLOW DOWN.” My hair is whipping in all sorts of direction while he speeds down the street with the top down, but he is oblivious to my screams.

The tires screech as he whips the car around circling around the neighborhood a couple times.

“Impressive…huh?”

“You’re going to give me a heart palpitation and wake up the neighbors.”

“There fine,” he brushes off. “Call it a mid-day wake up. Come on have a little fun.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so crazy, I would.”

“Alright, alright.”

The car muffles, growls, and my hair an utter wreck is tangled and in all sorts of direction.

“Your hair.”

“Shut up…” I yell. “It’s your fault.”

“It’s not that bad, just a couple hairs out of place…okay I am lying…yes it is.”

“Park the damn car,” I shout.

“Sky, I’m kidding, don’t be mad,” but I’m already pissed, slamming the car door, and storming off.

******

I answer the phone to the ring tone by an artist named Skye; Misty told me about it, a coincidence she couldn’t pass up.

“Hey Mist, what’s up?”

“Hey. Are you at the café already?” she asks.

“Just pulling in.”

“I’m running a little behind, so I’ll be there in about five to ten minutes. Ten if this person in front of me continues to drive like a snail,” she says, and I can tell she is highly frustrated because I can hear her grinding her teeth. Misty hates being late for anything, she deems it fallible and unacceptable. I knew right away she would combust from the thought of holding us up. I have to admit it made me laugh.

“Mist, take your time, Derek’s probably not there yet, and I still have to park. There’s no rush. It’s just us, not a conference meeting.”

“I know, I know, be there as quickly as I can,” she says, while making grunting noises between her words.

“Don’t rush.” I repeat.

“See you in a few,” she says quickly hanging up.

“Hey gorgeous, how’s it going?” Derek greets with a warm grin.

“Hey. Good,” I try to say kindly though I’m still pissed with him from yesterday. “It’s Misty I am worried about.”

“What now, did she break up with one of her boyfriend’s again?” He mimics a woman in distress trying to articulate a feminine speech. “Yuck, I’m so over men. I’m never dating again,” speaking with a high pitched voice.

“Is that supposed to be your feminine accent?” I squirm with laughter.

“Why of course. Don’t you like the sound of my voice?” batting his eyelashes.

“No, it’s terrible.”

“Well,” he huffs; “I wasn’t looking for your approval anyway, folding his arms and pouting.

“You’re a character,” laughing at his playful humor, almost forgetting why I was mad at him.

“I wonder what this is about?” glancing at the guards entering with large guns strapped at their sides, while the customers inside stiffen with curiosity.

“Don’t know. But whatever it is, they are here for a reason,” I say.

The young guy at the counter greets the guards, and as one of the guard’s approaches scanning him over, he takes a gulp, and it’s clear the guy is nervous, avoiding eye contact, looking around anxiously.

“So far so good,” one of the guard shouts as they patrol and roam around, checking restrooms, counter tops, and just about every corner of the café.

“Good here,” another guard standing by the counter replies. “Make sure to double check all areas and any civilians coming in.”

“Is everything alright?” the young guy asks.

“We received a call about a bomb threat here.”

“Do they know who?”

“No, that’s why we are here.”

“Misty is going to be pissed if they don’t let her in.”

Derek shakes his head disapprovingly. “She’s going to have a cardiac arrest stressing over insignificant things, and whoever she ends up with, she’s going to control with a tight leash,” then glances over at the guards. “Maybe one of the guards is what she needs.”

“Some people should not be allowed to have a license, and what is with all the guards outside?” Misty asked stomping into the café. “Sorry I am late.”

“Let’s start with yours,” Dereck mocks.

“Go shove a grenade in your mouth, and why are you looking at me like that?” shooting a glare in Derek’s direction.

“Because,” he says moving closer to her face. “I am trying to see if a vein is going to pop out of your forehead.”

“Shut up you idiot,” she snaps back.

“I’m just saying there’s no reason to get all bent up over a few minutes.”

“It matters to me, but I don’t expect you to understand, that requires respect and courtesy, something you could learn.”

“Just because I don’t get myself all in a tangent, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be courteous,” sticking his tongue out at her.

“Alright you two, enough bickering already.”

“Anyways,” rolling her eyes at Derek. “I hope they’re not going to be here long,” eyeing the guards outside patrolling the premise. “They’re scaring the customers in here. I mean look at the kid, he’s all shook up.”

Derek resting the back of his palm against his forehead, imitates a damsel in distress. Misty ignores him of course, and I change the subject before the tension between the two goes further.

“How is it going with the fashion shows?”

“Don’t even get me started. They added two more shows on my already packed schedule. There is so much to do and the girls just stroll in whenever they want, which makes it difficult to coordinate the show because I need everyone there on time to go over the routine. Every time someone is late, I have to stop then start over again and we don’t have much time. It’s just frustrating. Too boring for you Derek?” Misty asks just as he stretches his arms and yawns.

“No, go on,” fanning his hands, and to avoid another dispute, quickly suggest we order.

“Yes,” Derek agreeing, signaling the waitress over.

“You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks, but she’s distracted staring outside with a concerned look on her face.

“Don’t worry, they’re here to check and make sure everything is okay,” Derek advises. She gives him a smile, returning with our drinks, scurrying off in a hurry.

“That looks so good.”

“You want some?” pushing the strawberry milkshake in front of me.

“This is good. Really good.”

“Do you want some too?” moving the milkshake in front of Misty.

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Everything else okay Mist?” because she usually never turns down strawberry flavored anything.

“I need to converse with someone civilized,” turning to face me,” but I don’t want to bother you with anymore melodrama.”

“Come on Mist, what’s up, spit it out.”

“Boy troubles again?” Derek smirks. “Is it your ex-boyfriend again?”

“Derek,” I yell… “Stop it.”

Misy turns her head to the side, but even from the side can see she’s blushing.

“No, he’s right,” she says.

“What happened, you guys got into a fight?”

“Yeah,” nodding her head. “We got back together, then broke up yesterday. Well I broke up with him.”

“Jeez Mist, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you guys got back together. Why didn’t you tell me?” I wrap my arms around her as she rests her head near my shoulder.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“You’re too good for him anyways,” Derek utters with a wink.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not. It’s true,” smiling at her.

“I’m so frustrated with myself. Why can’t I be more like you Sky and date less.” She must have sensed my apprehension to her statement, because she glances up at me… “I meant that in a good way Sky. You’re not concerned with the dating scene.”

“But that’s my choice, you don’t have to do the same.”

“But I like your approach better,” blowing her nose with a napkin.

“What about the surfer guy?” Derek interjects.

“We went on four dates and we were never an official couple. It doesn’t count. Besides, your one to talk Derek,” throwing a rolled up piece of paper at him.

“What happened to the girl you were dating. She seemed nice. What was her name again?” asking while blowing her nose.

“Bianca,” Derek snaps.

“And how did this conversation become about me?” he asks.

Misty and I eyed one another, knowing Derek’s relationships never lasted longer than a few weeks.

“Because all the girls you’ve dated never make it past a month,” Misty jokes.

“So what was wrong with your ex?” I interject.

“Didn’t work,” he shrugs. “Are you guys done with the inquisition?”

“For now,” Misty and I quickly respond.

“Good. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay then. I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to mess up your hair yesterday, or get you all upset. I was just trying to have a little fun with you.”

“I don’t mind fun, but sometimes you go too far.”

“Didn’t mean to and I’m sorry. Am I forgiven now?”

I make him sweat a little and don’t answer for a while, and the stern face I try to maintain disappears when I laugh, even though I tried not to.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Maybe, but don’t push it.”

******

Misty calls to remind me about going shopping. “Don’t forget I’m treating you to whatever you want.”

“Can’t wait…” I mumble sarcastically.

“I need more enthusiasm from you. A girl only turns twenty- one once you know.”

As expected, my shopping excursion with Misty is grueling, long and I’m ready to leave. We walk into store number seven, my attitude unchanging, but I’m distracted, though not by the clothes, noticing a troop of guards surveying the streets with weapons.

“This is the second time this week. I wonder what is going on?” Misty inquires.

Large tanks stream down the streets while shoppers and customers eating lunch look around with caution, pointing and whispering to one another, and something was definitely up, but I wasn’t sure what.

Again I’m distracted, this time by a girl, who looks to be in her early twenties, well dressed with a lot of jewelry on, in skin tight black pants, striped blouse revealing a lot of cleavage, and a fitted blazer. She greets Misty and me eyeing us both.

“What you guys don’t remember an old friend?”

“Relax,” she chuckles. “I don’t want any problems. Sky, come on, there is no animosity,” patting my shoulder.

Misty clutches my arm, and I know she must feel the blood pulsating through my veins, as my aggression mounted from two years ago resurfaces.

“You look different Lacey,” Misty comments.

“Yeah, cut practically all my hair off and dyed it all black.”

Misty holds onto my arm, her nails digging into my skin, then cackles nervously which usually means she is uncomfortable.

Lacey gives Misty a warm smile, then turns glancing around the store.

“Yeah a lot has changed, but I’m proud of what I’ve done.”

“You own the store?” I blurt.

“Yes I own it. I surprised myself and even my dad opening one.”

“Well that’s good,” Misty adds.

She laughs. “Good for me, not so much for my dad. He’s still holding out for me to follow in his footsteps. Anyway, you guys look around and let me know if you need any help.”

“That was unexpected,” Misty says while we browse around.

“Yeah sure was.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good.”

“Well, come on then,” grabbing my arm. “You have clothes to try on, and I want to see you in everything. I head to the dressing room with a few dresses in hand, and Misty impatient as expected is driving me crazy.

“I have been waiting ten minutes and I have not seen you come out in one dress yet.”

“Alright, pipe down,” I snap. “I’ll come out, give me a second.” I adjust the dress slightly embarrassed to walk out.

“Sky, oh my…you look amazing, this is it, this is the dress,” she yelps. “I love it.”

“It’s not too much? You don’t think it’s too revealing?”

“No, it’s perfect, you have to get it,” and applauds full of excitement.

“Come on. I want to get this before you change your mind,” dragging me to the register, and on the way out, see Lacey waving to us.

“Sky you owe me a rematch,” she yells out.

“Just let me know when,” yelling back.

We leave the store when an Australian Official stops us. “I need to see the items in the bag.”

“It’s just a dress,” I voice.

“Do you understand the laws here?” His expression is bleak seeming a tad annoyed.

“Yes, quite well actually.” Misty nudges me in the arm, but I don’t care.

“Is there something we should be concerned about sir?” Misty questions.

He gapes at her dismissively, propping the gun across his chest. “Miss, you should always be concerned.”

His eyes beaming the darkest shade of green I’ve ever seen, is striking, though can’t appreciation it because my admiration is overshadowed by his surly expression.

Misty snatches the bag out of my hand giving it to him.

“Be mindful of cooperation,” he notes searching the bag, then hands it to me, wasting no time stopping someone else on the street.

Misty pulls me to the side and I guess couldn’t resist giving me a lecture. “I know sometimes you want to do your own thing, but it’s going to get you in a lot trouble one day. You don’t have to be so challenging all the time, especially when it’s not necessary.”