Summers of Yesteryear Sneak Peak

From Chapter Two...

“Hey, aren’t you Franklin’s son?”

I glance up from my phone to see Alex standing halfway between the vending machine and my bench, being approached by two men wearing US flag-colored shirts.

Wonderful. This entire airport, and our fellow Americans somehow found us.

The stouter of the two glares at Alex. “My sister almost died from that stupid ‘Cure’ she was given at school because of your fool of a dad.”

Alex steps back cautiously. “I’m very sorry about that. Is she all right now?”

“You have no right to talk about her!” the man yells.

His taller counterpart looms over Alex menacingly. “You’re a psychopath just like the rest of them!”

Pushing the glasses that didn’t work for a disguise up his face, Alex clears his throat. “I’m not sure you thought about the ignorance behind your statement before it escaped through your mouth, let me explain-”

Oh. No.

Pocketing my phone and picking up my drink, I start walking toward my foolish fellow teammate I never asked for. It’s time for an extraction.

Even as I start moving forward, the stout man pulls back his fist and shoves it into Alex’s face.

Alex staggers backwards, grabbing at his glasses.

I slide behind the two men and splash my water on the floor in front of them just as they move closer toward Alex.

Kicking behind me, I make just enough contact with the nearest one to hear him fall.

I turn to see the stout one go crashing down- and drag his taller companion down with him.

Then I reach and grab Alex’s arm, slightly surprised to feel so firm of a bicep in my grip and tug him forward.

He staggers blindly after me.

Just as two air marshals move forward.

Oh, drat.

“Officers,” Alex mumbles, still covering his eyes with one hand while his other grabs a paper out of his pocket and holds it out to them.

The men take one glance at it before waving us onward and moving toward his two assailants.

“A traveling gift from Jesse,” Alex offers.

I glance at the paper in Alex’s hand to try and see what our new supervising officer gave to give us such a powerful passport through trouble, but it looks like boring words and a picture of shield with the word ‘Peacemaker’ written across from it. Our team insignia, I suppose.

Tugging Alex forward a few more steps, I turn to see that he still hasn’t moved his hand from his eyes. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know. Scratched corneas hurt like the dickens, but aren’t usually serious-”

I groan and drag him into the nearest family bathroom.

Locking the door behind us, I back him against the wall. “Okay, lean forward and move your hand.”

He obediently lowers his face toward mine, almost hitting his nose on mine in his blindness. But he doesn’t move his hand.

“Light makes scratched corneas hurt even more.”

“We don’t even know if it is that. Now move your hand, you baby.”

Slowly, very slowly, he slides his hand off his face.

I look heavenward. “Good grief, I’m going to have to go out on the field with you?”

“Well?”

Moving my gaze back down, I almost hit my chin on his nose and then find my gaze on level with his gray eyes. Only, black now rims one eye, and the skin just under the other is sliced open slightly.

“Well?” Alex asks, and his breath is against my face. Thankfully, it’s minty and not something worse.

I step back an inch. “Can you see clearly?”

Blinking, he looks around the room. “A bit blurry, but clearing up. I don’t think they actually got my cornea.”

“You were just being a baby.” Reaching my arm around him, I have to lean into him to grab a paper towel.

He grins. “I appreciate the hug. It really helps me feel better.”

“Don’t be a dork.” I wet the paper towel with sink water and pat it on his scratch. “I’m only doing this so Jesse doesn’t think I can’t take care of even one teammate.”

His grin deepens, and his eyes dance. “But you can. You’re my hero.”
"Dork."