Get Blank (Fill in the Blank) by Justin Robinson Page B

road tracing the side of the slope and ending at a side road. I knew just looking that Oana’s slick led into that shack and that was where she had kept her car. It looked about big enough for a Mini Cooper, which would have been a luxury sedan to her.
    I turned around. The girls were on the back porch, looking at me with the same fear as someone waiting for a doctor to dispense the bad news. “I think Oana made it out of here,” I said. “I need to check something.”
    The slope was steep, and what started as careful steps turned into an out-of-control dusty slide. The little garage was made of sagging water-damaged wood, and there was so much paint chipped off I couldn’t even tell what color it had been back when the earth was young. The door was open and in the cool shadows beyond, the shed was empty.
    Tire tracks, still intact on the dirt just outside, said what I had thought: Oana had a car in there at one time. The slick emerged from the wall, some dried blood on the wooden door leading into it. Oana was alive. Now the question was: where was she? I thought back to the house, trying to find that one clue that would lead me right to her hiding spot. There was always one of those on TV. The picture on the mantel would have something distinctive in the background, or those cacti in her backyard could only be bought in one nursery.
    I chewed it over as I made my way down the dirt road onto the street. This street wasn’t even connected to Oana’s; to get to that, there was a concrete staircase up a berm, which spat me out right next to the Dead End sign on Oana’s street. I went back to the house to fetch Emily and the Emmas.
    Where would Oana go? Where would she feel safe? Maybe where she learned gymnastics? Where she was recruited? But those places could be found by the same people she was hiding from. I missed Mina. She had a way of cutting through the bullshit while my mind was spinning on an overload of speculation. Oana was in the wind and she was much too smart to leave clues lying around as to where.
    I went back into the house; the girls were still on the porch. One of the Emmas was crying and the other one was heroically trying not to join in. Emily just looked angry.
    “She was alive when she left here,” I said.
    “How about now?” Emily asked.
    “No idea. But if she got away, my guess is she’s holed up somewhere and is gonna stay that way.”
    “Who did this?” asked the crying Emma.
    “Wish I knew.” She almost dissolved into a fresh bout of tears when I added, “But I’m going to find her. You have my word on that.”
    “Who are you?” Emily asked, and now I had three upset teenaged girls looking to me for some hope. I really wished I could grunt, “I’m Batman,” but that didn’t seem like it would be helpful.
    “It’s like I said: I’m a friend.” A friend who is finding more and more that “retired” is a word that, to paraphrase a certain Spaniard, does not mean what I thought it meant.
    I picked up Oana’s medals. I didn’t want them just lying there, probably because I’m a total sucker. I handed them to Emily and asked her to look after it. The girl nodded, folding the ribbons carefully and cradling the clinking discs with the respect due religious relics. I drove the three girls back to their gym and dropped them off.
    “You promise?” Emily said from the curb.
    “I promise,” I said, feeling stupid for promising the impossible.
    She nodded and the gymnasts disappeared back into the building.
    Mina arrested and Oana attacked. Both were or had been members of V.E.N.U.S., a feminist conspiracy dedicated to the advancement of a positive image for women, so it was entirely possible someone was targeting the oldest secret society there was by framing a rising star and taking out their dirty tricks specialist. I might not like management, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see them all dead. Add in the fact that the first two people targeted were important to me, and