Page 3 of Call Sign: Thunder
Allison dragged her thoughts back to the present, deciding on a whim that she'd had enough Kowtowing to others. She would turn twenty-two in less than a month, dammit. She was in control of her life. If she wanted to dance instead of study, by God she was going to dance.
She pulled the threesome to a halt in the middle of the uneven sidewalk. "You guys go ahead and go back. I'm going to stay downtown longer. I'll take a cab back to the dorm."
Kathy was shocked. "No way! Weren't you paying attention during orientation? We aren't supposed to walk or even take a taxi alone. Like never. Ever."
"Yeah, I was there, but I think they're exaggerating." Catching sight of a group of students leaving the nearby cafe, she had an idea. "Look. There's that group of Irish students from our international dorm. I'm sure they won't mind me tagging along with them."
Ken and Kathy turned enough to glance in the direction Allie was pointing, looking unsure. "Have you even met them?"
Allison stretched the truth. She had said hi to them in the student cafeteria at breakfast a few times. She was sure they'd recognize her. "Sure! We had breakfast the other morning when you two slept in."
Ken finally let her pull away from him. "I don't like this. I'd still rather you came back with us."
Allison could see the group of Irish students moving away from them, headed in the direction of the Rio dance club a few blocks away. She needed to leave now if she was going to catch up to them. "Thanks for worrying, Dad." She went to her tippy toes to put a platonic kiss on his cheek before reassuring him. "But I'm sure it will be fine."
"Do you have cash if you do end up needing to catch a taxi?" Kathy injected.
"Oh for crying out loud! You guys are worse than my real dad. I didn't think that was possible. Yes, I have plenty of cash." Watching the look on Kathy's face change, Allie cut her off. "And yes, I'll be sure to watch my purse carefully. No, I won't talk to strangers. Yes, I'll call if I have a problem."
The Irish contingent of students was moving in the opposite direction. With a final wave, she took off in the direction of fun, watching the sidewalk often to avoid tripping on the uneven pavement.
A few blocks into her walk, Allison was regretting her choice of footwear. If her feet were already hurting while walking to the club, she could only imagine how much they'd hurt after dancing and walking back to campus. The group she was tracking down seemed to be going faster and faster and after getting stopped by several stoplights; she had begun to breathe heavily in the warm night air.
It was while she waited to cross a busy cross-street that her sixth sense picked up the first hint of danger. Several poorly dressed men loitered nearby, smoking foul smelling cigars and speaking in Spanish faster than her novice language skills could understand. She didn't like the way they were ogling her while nodding in her direction.
She took off at a brisk pace the second the traffic light changed. Only after crossing the street did she notice that she could no longer see the group of Irish students ahead of her. She fought down the sliver of anxiety that slithered through her like a snake, dousing her anticipation, replacing it with dread.
Allison was almost running by the time she got to the next cross street, stopping to look left and right, praying to see the group of students. She was still two blocks away from the dance club she was sure they'd been headed toward. They couldn't have gotten there already, she knew that. They must have ducked into one of the small shops along the way.
Turning to retrace her steps, she recognized two of the men that had been congregating on the corner before stalking toward her. Her eyes met the taller of the two and his leathery face broke into a near toothless grin. Anxiety turned to fear. They were following her.
She'd need to make it to the dance club. Surely there would be other students there from campus that she could tag along with. The words from orientation came back to her. 'Safety in numbers. Don't go out alone.'
Yeah, well you screwed that up, now didn't you, Allison?
She passed a small corner grocery store and a near-full tobacco store, slowing down to glance inside, hoping to find the students from her dorm and pushing her panic down as shop after shop proved she was on her own. The sound of the men's steps approaching from behind was getting closer.
As she arrived at the next stoplight, Allison made a snap decision. Parked waiting for the light to turn green was an empty taxi. She'd have preferred a woman driver, but since she hadn't seen even one woman taxi driver since arriving in town, she knew that was unlikely. She rushed to the back door, flinging it open and hopped in just as the two men who had been following her got to the vehicle.
She quickly locked the door while giving the driver directions to her dorm. "Calle veintitrés años , el número de edificio de cinco cuarenta y tres."
The men outside her window were bold enough to test opening the door she had just locked. Warnings of how taxi drivers would often rob foreign tourists came crashing back. Would the driver unlock the doors for these men? She was relieved when he started the old-fashioned meter on the front dash and moved the car away from the intersection.
Her sigh of relief was short lived as the driver prompted her, "Americana?"
Allison ignored him. She had enough of a bull’s-eye on her back. She didn't need to announce she was a single female American out doing exactly the opposite of everything she'd been warned against doing.
You are such a dummy, Allie. At least you've learned your lesson to be more careful.
After all, it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out she wasn't Colombian. Even from a distance, her long sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes were a calling card of her nationality. Her expensive designer clothes and shoes were like a billboard. And her average Spanish linguistic skills paired with an even worse accent was like a neon-sign announcing her as an American.
She began to relax as the driver drove her in the direction of the campus. It dawned on her that she might arrive back at the dorm before Kathy and Ken. Wouldn't they be surprised that she'd beaten them home?
She opened her small cross-body purse and pulled out her smartphone. Most of the other students had a cheap phone on a local plan. Allie was grateful that her dad had insisted she keep her full package, despite the additional cost for data roaming. She suspected it was so he could track her location, as if he could actually do something to help from thousands of miles away if she ran into problems.
After checking her email and social media for messages, Allie glanced up, expecting to be nearing the university. Instead, she realized she didn't recognize any landmarks around them. They had turned down a small side street, the buildings encroaching in on the street, putting the narrow sidewalks only inches away from the vehicle. Alarm bells were going off.
She struggled to find the right words in Spanish to tell him he'd missed the turn off to the school. "Se ha perdido la vuelta al campus. Voy a la Universidad." Her eyes met the driver's in the rear-view mirror and it was then that she knew for a fact she was in trouble. She didn't see lust or glee in his weary eyes. She saw anger.Hatred.
