Rosa knew baseball. It wasn’t like she never saw the sport in Guadalajara. Honestly, it was everywhere. But that didn’t mean she ever got much of a chance to play it. Or any chance at all really. Her parents rarely focused on enjoyable family activities. Their focus rarely swerved from their narrow-minded view of justice. It definitely didn’t stray to something as casually fun as swinging a bat at a ball.
Now that she faced down the pitching machine, Rosa couldn’t help but be angry at that. Baseball was fun. Lots of fun. And she missed out on it for all these years.
As she continued to wing, it became easier to hit the ball, despite constant variances in the speed and height of each throw. Her control also improved. She didn’t have any problem hitting the fast balls, but as the pitches kept coming, she quickly learned to react to them without the blessing of super speed.
“You’re sure you did this none?” Whitey said.
“Never,” Rosa said.
“Well you are a natural, girl. You could play in any ladies league I’ve ever seen. Maybe even cross the line, play minor league ball. With some training, make it to the top.”
Rosa gave him a smile “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be—”
The back wall suddenly exploded.
Rosa moved as soon as her eye caught the first sign of the damage, only a thousandth of a second after the damage began. She dropped the bat as she saw the fire slowly bloom. She flashed towards Whitey as she saw the first bits of debris fly towards him.
She grabbed Whitey as the deadly shrapnel flew towards him and her. She pulled the old ballplayer back and away, careful not to whiplash his neck. She dodged the debris as she turned back towards the entrance of the batting cage and Stomp.
Garrett’s eyes were wide as he watched the blooming explosion. At his speed, he would only now be realizing its implication. He was watching his own death.
Rosa pushed Whitey up to her right shoulder. He was heavy, but she knew that without the cancer he probably would have been twice as hefty.
She pushed out her left shoulder as she neared Garrett. She needed to make this count or they would all be dead.
She slammed hard into Garrett’s chest. Her velocity was near Mach One and she knew the impact would probably snap a few ribs. But she also knew it was the only way to get him to move.
Garrett flew back as Rosa kept running with all her might.
The shockwave of the explosion caught her a moment later. Rosa and Whitey sprawled forward at the wave of the force struck her. But even as she fell, she realized they were clear of the deadly debris.
Garrett was on the floor in front of them. He clutched at his side, but otherwise seemed all right.
Whitey had a nasty scratch on his forehead. It bled, but not enough to worry. She knew there was no major artery to worry about there. He found the blood with the back of his hand as she looked up at her. Then he looked past her at the batting cage.
Whitey said something but the echo in her ears made him impossible to understand. It just sounded like a different ringing than the other bells in her ears.
“I don’t understand,” she said. She couldn’t make out her own words either. She knew from experience it would be several minutes before her hearing returned to anything close to normal.
Stomp stood. He rubbed his ribs, but otherwise showed no sign of injury. She thanked God that they were at least still alive. But she couldn’t begin to think what happened here.
Doppelganger’s allies seemed broken. Could they have somehow regrouped? It didn’t make sense for them to do so quite so fast. Nor did killing anyone seem to fit their plans. Whatever they wanted, those men did not seem to want to kill them.
Stomp grabbed her by the shoulder. He leaned in and yelled in to her ear. “We need to make sure everyone is safe!”
Despite his volume, she could only guess at some of his words. Her head ached and she assumed with all likelihood she was concussed. It wasn’t the first time. She hoped she had seen the last, but her lot seemed set to move her into danger again and again.
Stomp pointed back towards the café they entered through, then at Whitey. She understood the signal well enough. She bent down and lifted the old man up again. Stomp turned to go farther in to the facility as she helped Whitey towards the door.
Rosa’s head started to clear as she ushered Whitey through the door. The ringing was down to a dull roar. She could hear flames crackling alone with the trademark smells of the smoke and flames.
A pair of police cars were already in front of the building, as were the patrons from the café area. The police officers were ushering fire trucks through a wave of gawkers and onlookers. The fools were so enamored with getting a glance at the destruction, they would let Whitey’s Dugout just burn.
She helped Whitey over to one of the ladies she recognized as she first entered. Her name was Wendy according to her Dugout nametag and it was followed by “assistant manager”, which made her at least the closest thing to the person in charge of the staff.
“Wendy, help me.” The girl’s attention turned to Rosa for the first time. Then it turned to Whitey.
“Oh my god, is he alright?
She ran to help Rosa carry Whitey to the hood of the nearest cop car. They helped him sit up against the bumper.
“He should be all right,” Rosa told her. “See if you can find something to cover that wound on his head. And make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish.”
“What about you? What are you going to do?”
“Whoever set off the bomb might still be in there. So is my friend. I have to go back inside.”
“Are you crazy? The place is on fire. The firemen—””They can’t do what I can do. Keep Whitey safe, all right?”
The woman nodded.
Rosa turned back to the building. Her head ached. Her concentration would be less than perfect. She took a pair of deep breaths, holding the last. She would need to be careful about breathing inside.
She braced herself to run.
Whitey’s Dugout exploded into a massive fireball. She sprawled to the ground at the impact, but her eyes remained on the building as it burned, a raging inferno that nothing could survive.
“Garrett! Garrett!”
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