Hazina's Revenge

Chapter 2 - Storm Surge

Suddenly, I was forcibly ripped away from Tristen’s body and thrown over a man’s shoulder. As the man sprinted away from Tristen and Estella, I heard him shout, “We have to hurry, Bruce! The storm surge is practically on top of us!”

As the sound of rushing water followed the special agent’s words, I watched the force of nature swoop in behind us. It covered my fiance and best friend’s bodies with three feet of volatile ocean water in a matter of seconds, and there was no stopping the tears from cascading out of my eyes and mixing with the rain that was blasting me in the face.

Screaming and shouting could be heard all around us, as the water continued to consume the entire area. It rushed around Dante and Bruce with so much force, they literally had to run as fast as they could to keep themselves from being knocked forward.

My eyes frantically darted around, watching the chaos unfold and praying to survive this horrible ordeal. The hurricane wasn’t supposed to hit us with so much force. If we had known, Tristen and I would have evacuated, but there I was... Being carried away from his dead body, which was now three feet under water.

I cried in anguish, not wanting to believe I had lost all of my loved ones. How could this have happened? Why were they all gunned down with no mercy whatsoever? Who was responsible for this travesty? Who was I going to get revenge on when all is said and done?

All of these questions and more swirled in my mind, as Dante ran to safety with me hanging over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” Bruce shouted from beside us.

“Headquarters!” Dante shouted back.

If not for the water surrounding us, I would have demanded they take me back to the police station, where I left my bag of personal belongings. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the time for me to make demands.

I don’t know how much time passed before I was carried into a tall building, but it felt like hours. The whole time, rain and hail pelted the entire backside of my body.

The hail was the worst. At times, the large size of it combined with the gale force winds made it feel like I was getting blasted with baseballs.

The first floor of the building was mostly underwater, so I was carried up a few flights of stairs before Dante finally set me down on top of a small desk. As he looked over my face and arms, I wept for multiple reasons.

First and foremost was the loss of my loved ones. Coming in behind that was the pain I was experiencing from the hall blasting me.

My face only had a few small injuries, but there were several large goose-eggs on my head, and one spot that had split open on the crown of my head. As for my arms, they were covered in welts and scrapes.

Dante shouted for somebody to bring him a first-aid kit, and it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before I was surrounded by several new faces. An older lady with long, graying hair and a warm smile immediately started fussing over my wounds, then she insisted that Dante let her take me to her office, so she could fix me up.

I could see the hesitation on Dante’s face, but he couldn’t deny my need for a little privacy. After almost a minute of contemplation, he gave in and helped me to my feet.

With the first-aid kit in hand, the lady led me down a hall and into a small office. The hall was light gray on both the walls and floor, but her office was painted a nice shade of light blue and her floor was covered with dark blue and white checkered tiles.

As I stood in the middle of her office with tears continuing to roll down my cheeks, she went to a small closet on my right. After grabbing a dark purple sweater, a black tank-top and a pair of dark gray sweatpants, she held the clothes out and mumbled, “Here, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

I looked down at my clothes and gasped at the sight of Tristen’s blood that had stained them. My body shook from the sobbing, as I rushed to strip off the clothing as fast as humanly possible.

The kind lady turned around to give me some semblance of privacy, but she kept the clothes held out, so I could easily grab them. After pulling on everything but the sweater, I choked out a thank you to let her know I was done.

Not wasting a second longer, she insisted I sit down on the chair behind me, then she went through the motion of cleaning the scrapes on my arms and bandaging them. Next, she cleaned and bandaged the wound on my head to the best of her ability.

While mending my wounds, she curiously asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Hazina,” I whispered, unable to find my voice at that point.

“Hazina Cleaver?” she asked.

“Yes?” I whispered with questioning eyes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I thought for sure your parents would always be safe here, but clearly I was wrong,” she grumbled, sending my head reeling with more questions.

Finding my voice, I raspily croaked, “You knew my parents? How?”

“Yes, I met your parents when you were just a fetus in your mom’s belly. I can still remember the twinkle in your mom’s eyes when she told me she was pregnant with you,” the woman informed me.

“Do you know why they were murdered?” I asked, needing to know.

She pulled her desk chair over and sat directly in front of me, then she proceeded to explain, “There was once a time when your father was mixed up with some really bad people. When he found out your mother was pregnant, your father came to us, requesting to go into witness protection in exchange for the information needed to put away the leader of the Solito Cartel.”

“The Solito Cartel? Aren’t they based in Mexico?” I mumbled in confusion.

“No, dear. Their main compound is located in the states, but they have managed to expand into Mexico, making it harder for us to put an end to them,” she muttered, looking frustrated about it.

“So, you mean to tell me… my father came to you, asking for witness protection? He gave you the information to take down the leader, but the cartel is still intact? If you were supposed to be protecting them, why are they now dead?” I growled, not hiding the anger I was feeling at that moment.

“I did everything I could for your parents and for you. I set them up with new identities; new names, new birth certificates, new anything we could think of. Everything was fine until El Chapo escaped from the federal penitentiary where he was being housed. I let your parents know of his escape right away, but they didn’t want to uproot you from the only life you had ever known,” she explained.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

The gray-haired woman smacked herself on the forehead before officially greeting, “My name is Cheryl Fiscus. I am the director of operations for this branch.”

“Cheryl, what am I supposed to do now? I have no family left. My fiance and best friend were also murdered. Whoever this Solito Cartel leader is, he’s probably looking to kill me next,” I rambled in total bewilderment.

“Hazina, I made a promise to your parents and I intend to keep that promise,” Cheryl replied.

“What promise?” I immediately questioned.

“I promised your parents that if something happened to them, I would personally see to it that you are protected and taken care of. I give you my word, Hazina… I won’t let you down,” Cheryl attempted to assure me, but nothing could give me assurance or comfort at that moment.