Pale moonbeams crept over the desert sand, turning the grains from dull gray to shimmering silver. Under the scrubby trees and sagebrush it crawled, cast down from the blazing super moon watching from the midnight sky above. Slowly, it climbed up the sky to pour it's light into the sleepy town. A few lights glowed here and there in windows. The Stars and Stripes on a flagpole shook in a whisper of wind. Nothing else moved.

Headlights split the darkness. Diesel smoke and engine rumbles shattered the quiet as a box truck bounced through town. The driver stared with eyes like stone through the windshield, while his passenger darted his gaze back and forth, from roadside to road ahead.

"So far," he twisted around to peer around the truck, "So good. Too good. I haven't seen a one singular cop since the Utah border."

The driver scoffed. "That's means we're lucky. It's the border I'm worried about, man." He glanced over. "You sure you got the papers?"

"Of course I do!" He snapped. Reaching down, he unzipped a duffel at his feet. "See?" He snatched then out and waved them in the air. "Papers!"

"Alright, alright!" He batted them away from his face. "That's covered. If luck's on our side, we'll get the boys we dealt with last time."
 "

Yeah, and the cargo doesn't - you know-. Bang around, makes noises."

"WE REALLY shouldn't be worried about that either." A third voice spoke.

The shotgun rider glanced into the back. "Pedro, don't you dare tell that ghost story again."

He leaned forward. "I warned you two not to take this route. You took it anyway."

"Man, you still sweating over that? Why can't you shake it off?"

"Would you be able to shake experiencing a shadow falling from the sky, shooting your windows out, slinging you and your friend from the truck, and leaving you there?"

"You did, man."

"The first time, yes. The second time, when the shadow speaks, rips the gun from your hand, throws you into a barbed wire fence and shoots your friend dead - you can't shake that off. You can't."

"Look, you got jumped by some dude that wanted the goods. No big deal."

Shotgun shot a sharp look at the driver. "The goods ARE a big deal, DUDE!"

Pedro clenched his fists. "He shot Miggy!"

"Cuz he's a scumbag, man." The driver pulled a pistol from his side and gripped it against the steering wheel. "Man, he will pay this time."

"I'm surprised he hasn't attacked us already. He will, I know it."

"If you're ghost story is true," The shotgun pulled a rifle from under his seat and chambered a round. "This time, we'll be ready for 'em."

As their truck bumped over a pothole, a shadow appeared unnoticed behind them. It touched down on the box behind the cab for a moment, then vanished as another vehicle rounded the bend. As the light passed, it descended again, only to vanish among the darker shadows on the side of the truck.

Bang! The truck wobbled. The same moment, a steady thud, thud, thud ensued.

Pedro lurched up. "What was that?!"

"Dude, Pedro, chill." Shotgun looked back. "It's just a flat tire."

"Man, that'll slow us down. We'll be late." The driver grumbled as he guided the truck over to the side of the road.

"Then we'll just change it fast." Shotgun swung open his door, grabbed a flashlight from the console and dropped to the ground.

As he walked, he thudded his fist on the side. "Keep quiet in there. No funny business," He continued as he sauntered to the back door. "Unless you want to become target practice. You know, that actually would be nice if you did.I'm a little rusty on my rapid fire moving target."

Inside, someone gasped and whimpered. One small voice choked out. "Please-don't!"

"Just kidding!" He laughed, as he unbolted the door and pointed his flashlight inside to nine pallets wrapped in shrink wrap. Though the rips and holes, voice's murmured, desperate and afraid. "Good. Still got three Chícas, two blondies, one Belle and three Squaws."

"Hurry it up, man! I need the tire!"

"Dude, I'm working on it." He hoisted the tire up with a grunt, set it on the ground, then bolted the door back.

"Okay, I have got the flat broken loose. C'mon, man, help me with the jack."

"Dude, you are too wound up about this." He set the tire on the ground, then reached for the jack. "We'll make it, let's just-"

A shadow swooped down from atop the truck. Quick as lighting, it grabbed the driver, snapped his neck and dropped him to the ground. And vanished.

"What the-"

"The Shadow! RUN, Carl, RUN!" Pedro screamed, leaping from the truck and fleeing into the night.

A gunshot rang out, followed by a soft thud in the sand.

Carl spun around, only to be lifted off the ground and thrown onto his knees.

Cold, hard, steel pressed against the back of his head. "One chance to redeem yerself." The shadow spoke, firm and grim."Get that tire on the truck or ya die."

"Dude, ok-ay." Carl groped for the jack, then seized a wrench instead. "You didn't have to kill Dreggs and Pe-"

Another gunshot rang out. Another soft thud.

Several minutes slipped by with no sound but the rushing of the wind over the desert.

Then came a steady, rhythmic and metallic wrenching.

A few minutes later, it silenced. The truck lowered to the ground with a soft bump.


The shadow entered the cab and shut the door. With a rumble, the truck rolled back onto the road. Within minutes, it turned onto a single lane road and vanished into the desert.

Fifteen minutes later, it stopped. The engine silenced as the headlights flicked off.

The shadow took shape from the dark, walking around to the back doors. It took strong, even strides with the bearing of a man. And yet, it bore wings. Great black wings that glistened in the moonlight.

In a moment, he undid the latch of the door and hoisted it up. The gentle glow of the moon poured in around a figure's shadow, tall and darker than the sky behind him. It fell on the crates, all marked with an different colored X. 
 

"Hey," He called, his baritone voice both gentle and mysterious. "Don't be 'fraid!" 


Drawing a knife from his belt, he stepped up into the box truck. With a quick slash, he cut the wrap of the nearest pallet, tearing it off with his other hand. Balling it his fingers, he tossed it aside and moved the boxes aside to reveal it hollow center.
 

And a girl inside the pallet, cowering in fear.

"¡NO! ¡Por favor no me hagas daño!" The girl cried, hiding her tanned face behind her raven hair. 


He dropped the knife, extended an open palm. "No tengas miedo. No te haré daño."

She stared at him, at his black wings spread out against the sky, highlighted with silver and starlight. "An angel. " She whispered in broken English. "The Virgin sent angel to save us."

He sighed, almost like a laugh. "Don't know 'bout bein' an angel, m'am." His wings folded back and vanished from view as he turned on a small flashlight. "But I do believe that Someone sent me to help." He offered her a hand. 
 

She grasped it. With gentle ease, he lifted her out and helped her stand. "Sit next to the truck while I git the rest out."
 

"Yes, yes thank you!" She jumped off the truck, only to press her hands against the sand and cry. 


He ripped into the next crate. A timid blonde peered up at him, blood streaked down her head.

"Here, lemme git ya out." He reached in slowly and lifted her up. She shuddered at his touch in silence, too weak to protest.
 

Cradling in her in arms, he carried her outside and laid her in the sand beside the first girl. "Mírala un momento por favor."
 

She nodded, murmuring "Oh, Sabrina." 
 

One by one, he ripped open the cardboard prisons and freed their captives until nine girls huddled before him on the sand. 
 

"It's ok." He knelt beside Sabrina. "Not gonna hurt ya." He nodded to her. "How'd she get hurt?" 


One of the other blonde girls spoke. "The one with the gun - he pushed her down and she hit her head."

"You got a peep hole in yer box?" He asked, lifting Sabrina's head with large, sinewy but gentle hands.

"I made it." 
 She replied through gritted teeth.

"Good for you." He brushed back Sabrina's hair and examined the blood-crusted wound. "Ain't a doctor, but I'll do what I can. Sabrina,"

She looked up at him as he spoke. "I'll git ya patched up. Just stay 'wake, ok?"

She nodded, staring with big brown eyes. 


He dug into the pocket of his leather coat, pulled out a first aid pouch and set it on the ground. Sticking the end of the flashlight in his mouth, he set to work.

Nobody spoke. All the girls huddled around watching. When he had finished, he stood and lifted her in his arms. "I'll take her into the cab with me." He nodded to the blonde girl, "What's yer name?"

"Jessie."

"Come on up to cab and keep an eye on her. I'm gonna get ya outta here."

"Wait!" The first girl grabbed his arm, "Seniõr, where are you taking us?"

He turned to her. "What's yer name?"

"Maya. Please, don't take me back to the border. They will kill me!"

"Está bien. We're not goin' there."

Jessie spoke up. "Then where are we going?"

He looked at her, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight."Somewhere safe. To someone who can help you. Help ya get back to yer families."

He glanced to the others. "Sound a'right to y'all?"

They nodded. "Thank you."

"A'right then." He turned to Jessie. "Let's go."

"Do they have to ride back there? We've been stuck back there into those crates for two days." She gazed pleadingly up into his eyes. "Please."

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Some of y'all have to sit on the floor. Gonna be tight. But I'll do what I can to get y'all comfortable."

"Thank you!" and "Gracias Seniõr!" They gasped. Some of them cried as they followed him to the cab.

He quickly made Sabrina comfortable in the passenger seat and buckled her in, then helped the girls up into the cab, one by one. Some sat on the floor, other crammed into the back seat.

Jessie sat on the floor between him and Sabrina. "I think we're ready."

"A'right." He took the wheel and turned the key.

One Hour Later . . .

He braked, easing the truck to a stop before the front porch of a white washed, two story ranch house. Parking, he stepped to the ground, hurried onto the porch and knocked on the window.

After a moment, a woman appeared on the other side of the glass, gray-streaked hair draped over one shoulder. She tapped on the glass three times.

He tapped back three times and nodded.

She vanished. The door opened and she stepped out. "Eagle, good to see you are safe."

"Thank you, M'am."

She glanced at the truck. "How many girls?"

"Nine." He lead the way. "Three of 'em Mexican - Maya, Carmen and Flores, one from New York - Abby, one from Illinois - Jessie, one from Miami - Sabrina and three from the Blackfoot reservation in Montana - Monica, River and Talli."

"You know all that? The girls don't usually give out their life story."

"Jessie, she filled me in. She's resourceful and the other girls trust her. 'Parently told her things."

"Well, that's good. The more I know, the better I can help these girls."

He paused by the driver's door. "Sabrina, she got a nasty bump and cut on her head. And," His jaw tightened, "Pretty sure one of - their captors, forced Abby to - ya know. She won't tell me outright. Jessie didn't know for sure. But I - I just know it."

"Poor things." She shook her head, opening the door. Reaching out, she touched Jessie's arm.

She jolted awake, eyes wide with fear.

"Don't be afraid. My name is Darla. Your rescuer knows me."

Eagle held out his hand to help her down. "C'mon. Y'all be safe here."

One by one, he helped the girls out of the truck. Sabrina and Abby he carried inside, laying them down on couches the living room.

At last, Maya stepped onto the porch. Turning, she hugged him. "¡Que la Santísima Virgen os bendiga! Thank you!"

For a moment, he stood very still. Then slowly, he wrapped an arm around her. "Yer welcome," he murmured.

She stepped back, wiping her eyes.

Darla escorted her into the house, then turned to him. "You'll have to take anymore to another safe house."

"I know. But I'm thinkin' that gang won't be movin' any more girls for a while."

She nodded, studying him with keen eyes. "How many did you kill?"

He gazed off into the night, his face unchanged, but eyes dim. " 'Nough to git the job done."

She reached up and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Allen. Don't become like the monsters you try so hard to defeat."

"Yes M'am." He tipped an invisible hat to her. "Best be on my way."

"Wait a moment," She disappeared back inside a moment, to return with a coal black stetson in her hand. "You left this the last time you were here."

He smiled, a tiny one corner of the mouth smile. "Thought it had fallen off while flyin'."

"It did, into my aloe patch. I've modified the hat band, so it will stay on your head."

His smile grew as he put it on and tipped it to her. "Good night. Stay safe."

"You too."

As he strode to the truck, she called out, "They'll be looking for that truck you know, both cops and the gang."

"Don't worry." He opened the driver's door. "I'mma take care of it right now."

Two hour later, he stood beside the truck, now submerged above the wheels in a shimmering sand dune in the middle of nowhere, engine still running. He pulled something from his pocket. With a soft metal flick, a tiny flame shot up and touched the dripping rang in his hand. With a swift throw, it stuck in the open gas cap.

He turned away. His wings unfolded and he sprang into the air. As the truck exploded into flame below him, he was already climbing with steady wing beats up into a moon and star lit sky.

Soon, he vanished among the shadows, leaving a gray pillar of smoke and a fiery eye of flame behind.