Darnell sat, alone, gazing at the cornfield’s nocturnal secrets illuminated by moonlight on this late-summer night. He listened to the wind’s gentle caress as it swirled around and over every leaf, cob, and stalk, whether they glowed with pale whiteness from above, or trembled in the darkness below. The young man contemplated intimacy, which he construed as not so much the knowing of secrets, but, rather, the act of sharing them.
Darnell did not believe that intimacy could be forced, but, in rare cases, it could not be stopped either. He had just spent six days with a strong, terrified, beautiful, crazy, opinionated woman who was as broken as himself. The black man and white woman were from vastly different worlds and could not be less compatible. Yet, Darnell had never been so intimate with anyone in his life, nor had he realized how recently and deeply American enslavement practices had impacted his family. He sighed as he reflected upon the events that began here less than a week ago.
Sholene froze as the broken corn stalk snapped under her foot but relaxed when no one else appeared to notice the noise. She and her five companions were silently stalking three suspects through a partially-harvested cornfield in Western New York. The fugitives had abandoned their stolen vehicle deep in the field and traveled to a small copse of trees to deliver their illicit package. The handoff was already underway when the agents reached the woods’ edge and paused to strategize.
Sholene shivered as a breeze rustled the leaves on the late-summer corn crop. The air was warm on this early-August night, meaning the young agent’s chills were due to nervousness rather than temperature. The twenty-three-year-old was barely out of the Academy and knew she shouldn’t be here. But Agent 463 tore his ACL less than an hour before the call came in, and Sholene, Agent 237, was the only person on site who knew the mission. Her team considered her a liability, and she agreed.
Eliena, their commander, directed her to a spot far down the dirt lane near the road. This assignment was the safety position responsible for stopping anyone from leaving should the mission fail. The rest of the team were seasoned agents, so it was unlikely she would be needed. This redundant responsibility was OK with Sholene, who preferred to stay out of the way.
The young woman took one last glance at the criminals meeting in the woods before trotting to her assigned position. Three, tall, blonde people dressed in white robes were talking to a group of men illuminated by flashlights. They were oblivious to the team surrounding them and would all soon be captured or killed. Everyone understood that they had to stop these extremists and safely recover the package at any cost.
Sholene waited on the side of the muddy access road for ten minutes. She had not been anywhere like this in fifteen years and quietly listened to the crickets, frogs, and other animals chirping in the night. The musky aroma of dirt, vegetation, and lingering diesel fumes filled her nose as she stared at the clear, dark sky. She recognized the stars and moon, but nothing else appeared familiar to this urban woman who never ventured beyond her city’s limits.
Gunfire shattered Sholene’s reverie, and, moments later, a pickup truck’s headlights blinded her as it barreled down the road. Agent 237’s training kicked in as she stepped into the lane and fired her handgun four times at the truck. She couldn’t recall whether drivers sat on the right or left side of cars here, so she spread her shots. All four bullets struck the windshield, two on the right and two on the left.
Sholene dived out of the way as the truck veered into the corn and slowed to a stop a hundred feet ahead. She scrambled to her feet as a body fell out, and the replacement driver slammed the door shut. But she couldn’t get a clean shot as the truck bounced and lurched out of the field and down the heavily-rutted lane. Sholene was a fast runner and was so close when the vehicle reached the paved road at the end of the path that she saw it was white with a large, Church of the Redeemed Sinner decal on its back window.
Darnell bashed his fist against his steering wheel and screamed, “Dammit!” for the fiftieth time today. The fantastic weekend in Toronto he had anticipated for weeks was ruined, and he was driving back to Rochester after dining alone. “Dammit!” he yelled again, and his seven-year-old Camry swerved as he shook the wheel in his frustration.
Darnell had met Brienne online a month ago, and their conversations and messages had quickly escalated from curious but guarded, to friendly, to explicitly intimate. She was a twenty-seven-year-old architect who was competitive, successful, and gorgeous. Darnell knew better than to trust someone’s online persona, but he believed that she was intelligent due to their lengthy conversations. Her points were well-considered and always delivered in complete sentences. She had shared some of her in-progress designs, and the girl’s artistic abilities were off the charts. And, during last night’s video call, Brienne graphically demonstrated how she was as excited about this weekend as Darnell.
They agreed to meet at her apartment in Bloor West Village at seven. The woman wearing a conservative, designer blouse and skirt who met him at her door was soft-spoken and anxious. Darnell was somewhat surprised after last night’s video escapades but accepted that Brienne had every right to be nervous. She was welcoming a man she had never physically met into her home. Darnell had shared that he was a nurse at Strong Memorial hospital, and they had talked for hours about seemingly everything. They discussed careers, dreams, loves, losses, and fears. But she could not be sure that this tall, powerfully-built, African-American standing on her doorstep was all he claimed to be. Darnell instantly decided that they should start their weekend cautiously until they learned a little more about each other despite his desire for her.
Once they were inside, however, Darnell realized that Brienne did not share his concerns. She wrapped him in her arms and kissed him so hard he thought he would choke on her tongue as soon as the apartment door closed. She was tearing at his clothes within seconds, and he had to push her away physically. He laughed, “Damn, girl. Slow down. We got all weekend for this.” Then he explained how he had been so excited that he hadn’t eaten all day and was starving. She seductively looked at him and suggested that they order in, but Darnell insisted that they go out. That was when their date began to collapse.
Bloor West Village is a trendy, upscale Toronto neighborhood filled with people of a mixture of ages and nationalities living in tightly-packed, older houses and shops on tree-lined streets. The couple had barely passed two houses when someone waved at Brienne and started jogging across the street to chat. Darnell began to wish they had ordered a delivered dinner. He didn’t want a lengthy conversation with a neighbor after noticing the late-afternoon sun dappled through the ancient trees on Brienne’s pretty face and long, chestnut hair. She felt similarly and tried to ignore the woman desperately attempting to get her attention.
Susan caught up with them and immediately began chattering about neighborhood gossip, which Darnell ignored. A frown flickered on his face as he stared at Brienne and wondered whether he honestly preferred petite, white women or was unconsciously attempting to replace Sarah, his former fiancé. His scowl disappeared with a soft chuckle after a glance at Brienne’s impressive cleavage and stylish makeup. He quickly decided that, while this woman was about Sarah’s height, she was certainly not her doppelganger.
Brienne had politely thwarted her neighbor’s torrent of Bloor Street news when Susan finally took a breath and noticed Darnell for the first time. Darnell began to realize that dining in this tight-knit community might involve an entire evening. He concluded that perhaps they should pick up something quick at the corner market instead of eating out. However, rather than introducing Darnell, Brienne claimed she didn’t know him. She explained how they had just met a moment ago and were merely exchanging pleasantries walking to the bus stop.
Darnell was stunned. Race was always an issue at some level in America, but they were in Canada. He saw numerous interracial couples sitting in cafes and walking down the street on his drive into town. No one seemed to be bothered by a black man dating a white woman up here. At least, no one other than Brienne seemed to care. How could he have missed her racial bias? She desired his body but didn’t want anyone to see them together.
Darnell took a deep breath and attempted to find another explanation for her dismissive behavior. Brienne had ended the conversation and left him awkwardly standing with Susan as she resumed walking toward Bloor Street. He considered the possibility that perhaps she didn’t want to be seen with any man. Maybe he was her secret sugar on the side. She had never mentioned a boyfriend, but why would she?
The American shook his head and hurried to catch up with his date as he realized that her reasons didn’t matter. He hadn’t planned or expected to find love or a long-term relationship today. Brienne’s reasons for secrecy had no impact on the passionate weekend ahead. But something changed inside when he met her at the corner, and she said, “This isn’t working. Go have your dinner, and I’ll see you back home after your meal.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke and hurriedly crossed the street before he could reply. Darnell decided he would have a leisurely dinner after all.
By the time Darnell’s meal arrived, he had decided that he didn’t want to be something on the side. After paying his bill, he knew he couldn’t return to this woman’s apartment, spend the weekend with her, and leave with self-respect.
By eight o’clock, Darnell was back in his rusty old car heading toward Rochester. He chose the Niagara Scenic Parkway instead of the thruway to avoid the tolls and take a different route than the one he drove a few hours ago filled with so much anticipation. Shortly after ten, Darnell slammed on his brakes as a white pickup truck cut him off, racing out of a side road onto Route 18. A moment later, he saw and heard a black-clad figure slam into his car, tumble across his hood, and land in the center of the road with a sickening thud.
Darnell quickly pulled onto the shoulder and ran to the unmoving body. He mentally forced himself to think of the guy as a pedestrian instead of as a body. The man was wearing motorcycle leathers and a helmet, but there was no sign of his bike. Darnell didn’t want to move him but couldn’t risk leaving him lying in the middle of an unlit, rural highway. As the accident victim moaned and started to move, Darnell softly explained that he would carry him off the road. The experienced nurse gently rolled the victim over and immediately made two observations: The injured person was a woman, and she was quite tall.
Darnell laid the woman on the shoulder in front of his idling car. He was unsure how to remove her helmet, which had a full-face shield and no, noticeable release strap. Her helmet had a non-reflective, matte black finish like the rest of her outfit, meaning she would have been nearly invisible standing on the road. Darnell shivered as he realized that he would have hit her squarely with no warning had he passed a few seconds later.
The woman had been muttering something unintelligible and was now attempting to sit. Darnell tried encouraging her to stay down, but she pushed him away with surprising strength, removed her helmet, and promptly vomited.
The woman was in pain and disoriented but was more concerned with following the truck than her well-being. He argued that she needed to rest and go to a hospital because she undoubtedly had a concussion and possibly more extensive injuries. She refused any treatment and, again, insisted they find the truck. After several minutes listening to her demanding the wrong type of help, Darnell agreed to let her attempt to stand.
The woman leaned on his car as she rose but refused any assistance from him. She looked woozy but managed to pull herself up and walk a few steps. Darnell reluctantly agreed to drive her to the hospital, but, again, she refused medical help. The nurse sighed but relented. They had an hour-long journey for him to convince her to accept medical attention. Darnell knew that he should have called 911 despite her protestations. However, an ambulance would probably take nearly an hour to reach this remote location, and he would never permit that after what had happened to Sarah.
Together they managed to get the woman seated and buckled into his passenger seat. Darnell inquired about her bike, but she said she was on foot, and he found nothing to disprove her claim. Darnell took one last look at the blonde, white woman sitting in his car before closing the door. She was stunningly beautiful with the largest, pure-blue eyes he had ever seen. Darnell sighed at the strange turns his weekend had taken and shuddered when he noticed the deep dent in his front quarter-panel. He wasn’t concerned about the damage. Darnell was contemplating how his passenger would not be alive had his car arrived just moments later. His weekend might be disastrous, but it could have been much worse.
Sholene’s world disappeared in a blinding flash of pain when she reached the road. She didn’t know what had happened but found herself face-down on the highway, unable to move. Eventually, a loud voice fully awakened her. Commander Eliena was screaming through her earpiece for confirmation that the package was secure.
Sholene explained that she had killed one of the men but admitted that the other had escaped in the truck. She described the accident and her injuries, but Eliena interrupted her, commanding Sholene to cease giving excuses and retrieve the package at any cost. The extremists were eliminated but had killed two of her teammates in the gunfight. The remaining agents were cleansing the site, and they would return to the same location in six days to collect her and the package.
Sholene accepted her orders and reluctantly added that she had lost her firearm. She suspected that it had landed in the ditch across the road after the collision. Eliena noted her remark and reiterated her mission’s importance. Then she softened her tone and wished her luck before terminating the connection.
The driver who struck Sholene was now asking questions and offering to carry her off the road. The young woman shuddered at his touch but was in no position to argue. She was unsure how severely she was hurt, but needed his help. Sholene required transportation to find that truck, and she might not even be able to walk.
The man placed her on the ground in front of his car, and Sholene assessed her injuries. None of her bones appeared to be broken other than possibly a few ribs, and she didn’t feel as though she had any significant internal damage. Her arms, left leg, and torso felt bruised and swollen, though, and she probably had a concussion and a strained neck.
The agent’s heavily-scratched face-shield made the world a massive blur. Sholene removed her helmet and nearly screamed upon seeing her rescuer clearly for the first time. This man represented everything Sholene hated, but Agent 237 could think of no option other than stifling her revulsion and asking this vile creature for help. Sholene promptly vomited in the dirt, unsure whether her emesis resulted from a concussion or a reaction to her new partner’s appearance.