We're barreling out of the city and through colourful hills of sand within seconds, I hold the child close to my chest while Antonio hits the gas, maneuvering his way past people and over ditches until we finally break free into the vast opening of the desert. But Antonio continues to drive, refusing to let up and risk them catching up to us.
I've ruined everything. I fucked up.
But when I gaze down at this tiny child, a fraction of my size, some part of me feels relief with the choice I had made.
For now, I'll choose to believe I made the right choice. I saved a child, an innocent child.
Our superiors wouldn't be upset by an innocent person being saved, especially if I can fix this somehow.
Think.
Our cover hasn't been blown.
"Ow," The girl groans, blocking her face with her hands as the shooting sand slices at her soft, fragile skin.
Shit, I didn't even realize.
She's hardly covered up, just some casual clothing; a t-shirt and pants, no eye or face coverings, she's not even wearing socks.
Fuck. I can't risk any psychos finding her like this; they'll turn ravenous.
Holding onto her tight, I carefully remove my head scarf and wrap it around her, silently noting her immediate calming and relaxation as she lowers her arm, pushing herself further into me. We hold each other close as Antonio drives, continuing even after every structure and sign of life has disappeared.
Once we're in the clear, he finally stops the truck and turns to me in an instant, removing his face mask and revealing his harsh glare and deep scar.
Fuck.
Everytime I fuck up it's always Antonio that ends up taking the hit for me. We need to fix this, and fast, otherwise I can't imagine what might happen to him.
It's okay. Everything will be okay. We just have a child to worry about now while we're in the middle of an undercover operation to take down a gang of drug dealers that have managed to start controlling other parts of the world. It's no big deal. This is fine.
"What in the absolute fuck were you thinking?" Antonio raises his voice, and I don't cower away from it, instead, facing it head on.
"I couldn't just sit around and let them take advantage of her!" I instinctually cover her ears, protecting them from our loud voices.
"I don't give a shit, you could've potentially just put the entire mission, hell, even the whole world at risk, just to save some kid!"
Does he really not care that an innocent child was probably going to be raped?
I guess, in some sense, I shouldn't care either. But these are the exact people we would've been tasked to hunt down back in school, meaning that it should be an obvious choice to prioritize the child! But then again, the drugs that they're dealing are likely putting millions more at risk.
Maybe sacrificing this one child's innocence would've been better for everyone in the long wrong, get us in with the group no problem.
"Well then? What's your plan now? You must have one if you're willing to make such a drastic choice." He continues after I don't speak, instead silently staring down at the little girl in my lap, safely wrapped in my arms. Her heart is racing, but breathing is steadying out, a bit of moisture is clinging to my chest, she's either crying or drooling. "You've ruined this for all of us, there was a plan."
"And who came up with that plan? Huh?" It escapes me, the rocket of rage that had been slowly building this entire time. Following everything Antonio plans, making sure to have his back and take out whoever's needed just to keep him safe, being pulled in every direction and not even getting a word in. Like? How stupid is it for us to just go in and take apart their vehicles just to sell the parts back to them days later? How boring it is for me to be holed up in our tent, slowing cooking, while he went out and socialized and gathered information just because 'it's too dangerous for me.'
No, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of just being dragged around, not being able to say a word solely because I can't speak the language. I don't need to! Our targets are multilingual and can speak the same language as us!
No. I refuse to continue going this route, either we do things my way, or I can head into their warehouse right the fuck now, find their drug supply, blow it up, and escape before anyone notices.
But that's far too brash. No. We need a plan. An actual one. A mutual one. We can still infiltrate. Our identities are no longer of use to us other than to ensure we're not followed once all of this is over. But that's fine, we can create new identities.
We just need disguises.
Sure, they've never seen our faces, for all we know, but the voice is the major issue.
"Well?" He shouts, exasperated, slamming his hands on the wheel.
Quietly, I shake my head, and hop down from the truck, balancing the girl in front of me so we don't fall, and begin walking. Off in the distance I find a collection of cacti, some with large black flowers growing on them beautifully. Behind me, the truck turns off again, and my eyes burn, picturing him just driving off without me, or perhaps it's the sand. Either way, it makes sense, guess we were just never meant for each other to begin with.
Once we're far enough away, I set the girl down on the ground, placing a gentle hand on her cheek as I speak softly, "What's your name?"
Finally finding the courage, she raises her head, meeting my eye, her youthful voice cracking through tears, "My daddy calls me Hydra, but my mommy insists my name is Hydrangea."
"Hydrangea? That's a beautiful name, and a gorgeous flower too." One that isn't native here, her parents might be diplomats. "Do you have any other family members you can stay with for the time being?"
"Why not my parents? What happened to my mommy and daddy?" Her cries turn sharp as she soaks through my head scarf.
Shit, I really don't know how to break the news to her. My training dictates that I tell her head on, use neutral and proper terms rather than euphemisms that lead to unachievable hopes and dreams.
I just need to tell her, but I can't be harsh about it. She's clearly a smart kid, able to talk so clearly. It makes sense, you do pretty much need to be a genius to live here, so all the smart people breeding together is bound to lead to expeditiously developed children.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, Hydrangea, but your parents are dead."
The tears come spilling out not a moment later, and I pull her into me for comfort, risking my own safety and allowing her to wrap her arms around me. Her cries are earsplitting, but I don't hush her, we'll be fine out here for the time being, she can let loose all she'd like. Antonio can wait. This mission can wait.
We continue kneeling there for a long while, until both our clothes have been soaked through and she's cried herself numb. By the time she's let it out she's passed out in my arms, and I turn to find Antonio leading on the side of the truck, staring at me with his arms crossed, ignoring the mounds of sand as it lasers his face. He doesn't look pissed off anymore, nor disappointed, he isn't happy either.
No, he's still waiting for me to answer his question, expectant that after all this time spent crying, that I'll finally have a plan.
And I do.
We're going to infiltrate them, my way.
But first, we need to get this girl to some kind of trusted family member.