Page 104 of The Man with a Treasure

I laughed. “Nope, we have just found another’s, oh,” I thought of all the beautiful things that float toward the sky, “kite to help us touch the sky.”

Apparently, my analogy sucked because he lifted a brow. “A kite? Not very manly, no? Do we still love women?”

I slapped my forehead. “Yes, we still love women, Sal.”

In this dream, Isabella was younger, like Scarlett, and she was standing at the entrance of the cave I once found her in back in Italy. The one where Sal and I made love to Noemi, over and over again. In the glow of a fire inside, Isabella’s smile was soft, surreal, but immediately faded as soon as she heard a baby’s cry from within the cave. When her blue eyes followed the sound of the baby, I knew she would follow it anywhere.

“No!” I shouted, but was ignored. Too far away, I couldn’t stop her. Isabella ran inside the cave, so I chased. “Wait!” By the time I turned the corner of the cave’s opening, she was gone.

The cry got louder. “Isabella!”

A tunnel suddenly appeared at the rear of the cave. Without hesitation, I rushed forward into the dark channel that only led to more channels.

“Isabella!”

Running around a sloping wall, I ended up back outside, this time in a field of grass. Next to her was a section of untamed taller brown grass. It was dusk, but I could see mountains off in the distance all around us. I say ‘us’ because Isabella was in the center of the field, next to an old metal swing set, cradling a baby.

Adoration beamed from her as she rocked the no longer crying baby. Then she peered up at me, still standing by the cave’s entrance. “You found her, Angel of the Night.” Tears began to drip down her smiling face. “Just like I will find you… when it is time. Hold on to your Faith. It is with—” she gasped when the baby suddenly disappeared from her arms. “No.” Frantically, she looked around. “No!”

I spun around to search for the child. Behind me, I found the dilapidated home where I had rescued Scarlett. “No.”

A wild wind started blowing. I could hear rusty swings creaking in the growing storm.

I turned back to Isabella to see her hair eerily whipping through the air. “Angel!” She stood still and deliberate, pointing at me with rage. “Do not call again! Do not call again!”

She kept repeating it until I finally noticed Sal, now close by her, with the baby in his arms. There was a gun floating in the air, pointed directly at his temple.

“Do not call again!” Isabella demanded.

In terror, I screamed, “I won’t! I won’t! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot him!”

My heart pounding, I sat up in bed, yelling, “I won’t! Don’t shoot—”

I was alone. A bit of dawn was shining in my room. The light wasn’t enough to keep me from swinging my legs over the edge of my bed and slipping into my shoes, nor taking off down the hallway. Sal should’ve responded to my screams.

Scarlett’s room was empty.

“No.”

I rushed into the living room, only to calm as soon as I spotted Scarlett and Sal sitting outside on the balcony’s bench swing. He had a blanket covering her and an arm around her shoulders. In her lap, she was holding her plastic cup.

Casually talking, I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but instantly recognized the shift in Scarlett as her body went rigid and her eyes vacant. She was experiencing a flashback. Just like her mother. I hadn’t realized Scarlett had lost memories until this very moment.

By the time Sal yelled for me, I was already running toward the door to get to Scarlett, who was now on her feet. In her trance state, her plastic cup had fallen because she believed her arms were being restrained above her head.

No! I couldn’t bear watching Scarlett stuck in this memory, so similar to Isabella’s. “Can you see me?” I quickly asked the one now gasping for air as if feeling horrible things. My stomach roiled and flipped.

Eerily distracted, she asked, “Angel?”

“Right here.” Trembling with worry, I lifted my arms over my head and grabbed hold of her suspended hands. If she was going to be violently strung up, I was going to be there with her. “Right in front of you.”

I wanted to scream as her eyes slammed shut, the memory stealing her from me again. “T-Two tired cars.”

I could barely breathe. “W-What? Two tire—” It dawned on me that she was talking of motorcycles.

Needing her free of the thought of being raped by motherfucking bikers, I released her hands and firmly grasped her exquisite face, now drawn and tense. I wasn’t going to let her experience more terror, not while my heart beat for her. “Scarlett, look at me.”

As if the imaginary rope had been cut, her arms fell. Her head lolled. “Scar. My name is Scar.”