Page 53 of The Dirty Saint

I clamp my hand over my mouth, careful not to let any of the civilians see the sadness on my face.

“No,” I whisper. “Please, no.”

“Maya, I need you to gather any intel that you can. I want to find the fucker that set off that bomb!”

I brush a tear from my cheek and then quickly take a breath.

Now is not the time to cry or get angry or do something stupid. It is not the time to try and avenge Jordan’s death.

He won’t have wanted that anyway.

“Copy that, Captain Bard.”

Next to me, an older lady is crying out for her grandson. She is clutching her wrist in her hand, her body covered in ash and soot.

“Ma’am, can I help you?” I ask.

The woman turns to face my direction, her eyes riddled with fear.

“My grandson, David, he was with me, and then the blast went off, and I lost him—”

“Ma’am,” I interrupt, holding out my hands for her to take. “Why don’t you tell me what he looks like so I can try to find him?”

She nods softly.

“Okay.”

I drag my feet along the rubble, holding onto the lady as I do so. I call out to David, listening out for any sound that can indicate that the little boy has heard me.

“David! David! Where are you bud? My name is Ezra Maya, and I am with the army. I am here with your grandmother—”

“Nana.”

“I am here with your Nana. And she’s very worried about you.” I crouch down, brushing away the rocks, “if you can hear me, honey, please call out.”

I trot along the gravel surface, careful to shield the woman from the dead bodies on the ground.

“Come on.”

We continue calling out for the young boy, asking other scared civilians if they have seen a five-year-old small child with blonde hair and green eyes, wearing a Paw Patrol hoodie. They all claim to have not witnessed the child, instead insisting that I get the cut on my forehead checked out.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “But thank you for the concern. I appreciate it.”

When we stop at the end of the block, I see a blurry figure in my peripheral vision. I saunter over, motioning Nana to do the same.

“It’s him!” she screams. “It’s my David!”

She points to the clear vision, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The boy does not appear to have been harmed.Thank you, universe. Nana is screaming and crying, holding her arms out for her grandson to fall into. David quickly comes over, tears in his eyes.

“Oh, darling, I was so worried,” Nana cradles the boy to her body.

“I’m okay, Nana. Just a little dirty.”

Nana chuckles, kissing the tip of the boy’s nose, and I smile, my heart not as broken as it had been not too long ago.

“David, this is Ezra. She helped me find you. Why don’t you give her a hug?”

The young boy holds onto Nana’s legs, peeking his head out from beneath her. He clutches a tiny stuffed monkey in his hands.

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