“Is that it?” Vicki managed to say, her voice small and timid. “Is that… him?”
Dr. Sethi chuckled. “Yes, though it’s likely the umbilical cord, and not the actual heart. This little one likes to fidget. Have you felt him move so far?” he asked Vicki. Without waiting for an answer, he looked back at his machine. “Of course you have. Although without an ultrasound, I wouldn’t be able to tell the sex.”
“Could you… if you did?” Vicki wondered if it was a girl, would Will let her go?
“Possibly.” He moved the monitor around, checking the screen above the dial. “But often they like to elude us.”
After a few more minutes, he packed up the machine and lowered her gown.
“Is everything okay?”
Dr. Sethi removed his rubber gloves and tossed them in a nearby trashcan under the table. “Everything looks great, Vicki, and I have no concerns right now. Although for an ultrasound we would have to ask Supreme Leader to get the equipment. I can recommend it to him if you would like.” He frowned at her suddenly, seeing the look of shock on Vicki’s face.
“Dr. Sethi,” Vicki blurted, “you have to get me out of here.”
“Miss, I’m sorry, but…”
“Please!” Vicki cried, throwing her legs out of bed and rushing towards him. She grabbed his arm and lowered her voice. “Please help me escape.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He pried her hand from his arm and turned back to his bag, packing utensils and other supplies away.
“Why?” Tears streamed down her face. “If only you knew what he does to me…”
He turned, pushing his glasses up again, “I could recommend he make your stay more comfortable, but I’m sorry…”
Vicki shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’m a prisoner. He hurts me. You’re a doctor, you have an obligation to help me!”
Dr. Sethi leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “He has my family.”
Vicki gasped.
“Everything alright in here?”
The door creaked open behind the doctor. Will’s interruption was both a curse and a blessing. He was the last person Vicki wanted to see, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. What cruel things did Will have planned for Dr. Sethi’s family? She wanted to pound her fists on his chest, demand he free them. Then maybe he would help her.
“Will that be all, Sir?”
“Yes, my second will escort you back to Lincoln,” he nodded. “And remember our agreement.”
“Yes, Sir.” He threw a look back to Vicki, pinched and pained, and mouthed, I’m sorry.
Me too, Vicki mouthed back. She really was. If it wasn’t for her, he would be safe with his family, far away from here. More lives that were her fault, to add to the list of many.
“If I might have a word, sir?” Dr. Sethi dropped his voice. “There’s some equipment we will need…”
“Of course, anything for the mother of my child.” Will smiled at her, but looked back at the doctor. “In the hallway?”
“I’ll just get dressed then.” Vicki hurried toward the bathroom.
Will waved her away and closed the door behind him and Dr. Sethi.
Vicki hurried through the motions, pulling her clothes back on. She didn’t want to give Will any ideas, and the thin gown barely left anything to the imagination.
Back in the bedroom, Will let himself in, the key turning in her lock with a click. He approached her, his hand pressed into her back. He pushed her gently towards the bed. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve slept enough, thank you.” She didn’t care about the edge in her voice. His grip was firm, however, and she resigned to sitting on the bed.
“Dr. Sethi says you are far enough along we could tell if it was a boy or girl. I’ll get the equipment brought here from Lincoln.”
“Why not just let me go to Lincoln?”
Will shook his head. “I can’t do that, my dear.”
“Are you worried I’ll escape?”
Will looked at her but said nothing. “It’s more comfortable here, isn’t it? Especially in your state…”
“I’m not the first woman to be pregnant!” she shouted, louder than she wanted, and a bit of spittle hit Will’s cheek. On her first night here, she’d fought him and spit in his face, which resulted in him slapping her and binding her hands to the bed posts for the night. Terrified, she backed up on the bed. “I’m sorry,” she quipped immediately. “I didn’t mean to…”
Will wiped his face with a handkerchief, tucking it back in his pocket. “It’s alright,” he said, though she could see his teeth were clenched. “I see you’re in no mood for civil conversation. I’ll check on you later.”
Vicki sighed, relieved. He was going to leave her alone, at least for now. He turned towards the door, unlocking it.
“And Vicki?”
“Yes?”
“It will be a boy. At least, you better hope it is.” He left without another word, but his menacing tone was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
As soon as the door locked behind him, Vicki scrambled off the bed and pulled out the satellite phone. She didn’t unlock the box, but instead cradled it to her chest.
The tiny heartbeat echoed in her head, a haunting sound of her reality.
I’m trapped here, she thought. But for how much longer? I can’t have the baby here…he’ll surely kill me after it’s all over.
What other choice did she have?
Chapter Sixteen
Ambrose turned and spit red on the concrete. Blood poured from the cut above his left eye, which he knew was a shallow cut, but it still stung like a bitch. He shook his head and ducked back into the makeshift ring. The police ribbon and caution tape that cut the square ring was an interesting touch for all the illegal activities that took place in this abandoned garage.
His opponent was small and scrawny, but fast and wily. This fight was no holds barred, cheating allowed, brawn and cruelty encouraged. Ambrose knew he had to just land one, maybe two blows and he would be triumphant. However, this little man had twice avoided a right hook by dancing under it, returning a fury of blows to Ambrose’s shoulder and cheek when he least expected it. One connected right about his eye, and that was the most painful. This was his sixth fight since arriving here, and combined with his training in Portland, he was nearly an expert at this. He threw in another hook, connecting this time against his opponent’s left cheek. The man spun with his arms out like a confused sprinkler, collapsing to a heap on the floor.
“Winner!” Julio held up Ambrose’s white-wrapped hand. “Although I don’t know what you would need with a hundred gallons of gas, my friend,” he whispered sideways in Ambrose’s ear.
The crowd around them, all workers from the military base, erupted into cheers. Without money to trade, the barter system had exploded in the small commune of workers. There was every type of contraband, from lipstick to gummy bears, cigarettes and bottles of wine, and even long-gone sports jerseys and memorabilia, as people tried to cling to every bit of their heritage as they could.
Ambrose locked eyes with the two large red plastic containers sitting by the corner of the make-shift ring. It was the last thing he needed, and with little time to spare. The plan was coming into focus. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, he would be headed over the Rockies, a thousand miles closer to her.
Ambrose slid through the police tape sectioning off the ring, as another two fighters took their places. He approached the bare-chested, bald man who stood over the red containers. “Good fight,” he grunted, stepping out of the way. “Your wager, sir.”
Ambrose nodded and hefted the heavy plastic under each arm, 50 gallons in each one. “Pleasure doing business with you, Sergeant Rodgers.”
Rodgers nodded, narrowed his eyes, and then smiled broadly, much to Ambrose’s surprise. The man never, ever smiled. He clapped Ambrose on the back. “You up for another wager, maybe?”
“Sorry, this was the last one.” Ambrose smiled and t
ried to push past him. Thank God, Ambrose thought, the stinging over his eyes and the throbbing in his knuckles told him he couldn’t take much more of this.
“I’ll have a spot for you in my ring any time you want it!” The man called after him.
Ambrose tried to ignore him.
Parts of his plan were still shadowed, as Ambrose returned home late that night and collapsed into bed. He still had no idea how to get to the actual plane. He hadn’t thought about what he would do when he arrived there, either. But he had the map. He had the airplane fuel, tucked in the back of his closet, next to the satellite phone. Now all he needed was the plane, and a lot of luck.
Sleep didn’t come easy, as his wounds from boxing kept him tossing and turning, wincing and moaning as his tender hands got caught in the sheets of his bunk. In the wee hours of the morning he finally saw his eyelids shut and dipped into a fitful sleep at last.
Within minutes, a shrill ring blared, waking Ambrose from his sleep so powerfully he jumped out of bed. In a panic, he realized it must be a fire alarm, which would be havoc with the 100 gallons of gas in his closet. It was still dark, three hours before sunrise, he realized, glancing at his watch. In the blackness of his room, he dug past boxes and work uniforms in a hurry, and the ringing grew louder. His hand wrapped around the handle of the satellite phone and he pulled it free.
“How do you shut this thing up?” he cried to his empty compartment, flinging the clasps open and dumping the contents onto his bed. “Shut up!” He picked up the phone. “Dear God…”
Fumbling, his fingers slid across the green answer button and landed on the red button.
Who would call me? He stood frozen in front of his bed, looking down at the phone that now lay lifeless in his hands.
It could only be one person…
He didn’t know if he should shove it back in the box and hide it again, but he was worried had Julio been home, he would have been busted. Julio was a good friend, an awesome roommate, but Ambrose always got the feeling the most important person in the world to Julio was Julio. As he fumbled with trying to locate a volume button, a voice crackled from the speakers.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Ambrose pressed the phone to his ear. “Vicki?” He winced when he felt the pain it took to say her name. He thought he never would again.
The voice on the other end was so quiet, he strained to hear. She quietly sobbed. “Oh, Ambrose,” she whispered. “Ambrose, I thought I’d never hear your voice...”
“I’m here.” Even as he said it, he struggled to be strong, for her. “Where are you?”
A bit of static, then her voice projected clearly: “Governor’s Mansion, forty miles west of Lincoln.”
“Lincoln, Nebraska? Jesus, Vicki. Are you okay?”
He could almost hear her shake her head, then another suppressed sob. “Ambrose.”
“Vicki, did that bastard hurt you?”
“Ambrose, he could be tracing this call, so I don’t have long. You can’t come here. He’ll kill you.”
“But I thought you wanted me to save you?” Ambrose looked at his closet where the hidden tanks lay under piles of clothes and some carefully collected garbage, just to ward off the strong smell.
“I want to save you.” Vicki’s voice was small.
“I can save myself,” Ambrose blurted before he could control himself.
“If you’re out there, I can hang on a little longer,” she whispered, “but if you’re not… I don’t have any reason to.”
“Hey, now, don’t talk like that,” Ambrose urged. “Don’t ever talk like that, you hear me?”
Vicki sobbed on the other end, sniffling quietly.
“I am coming for you,” he told her.
“He’s got a hundred or more soldiers here. I can’t really tell. Mostly he keeps me locked in the mansion.”
“Can you get away? Crawl out a window? Meet me at the airport?”
“My balcony has bars, but Will is leaving for three days, to make the final preparations for our…” she choked on another sob, “wedding.”
The last word made Ambrose curl his fist around the phone so tight he could hear the plastic creaking under his grasp. “Look, if I have to blast down all those walls and take another bullet in the process, I will come for you.”
“Ambrose,” she sobbed, and he felt as if a hole was being torn in his chest.
“Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, but please, please don’t.”
“Then you come to me. Figure out how to escape, Vicki, you can do it, I know you can. You saved my life, you got me to the farmhouse, and you got us away from the soldiers. You can do it again.”
“Where will I go?”
“The airport. I’ll be there in three days.” Even as he said it, he didn’t know how, but he would try.
He could hear her gasp. “How will you…”
“Don’t worry about the how; just worry about getting there as safely as you can. Hide in a hanger and put something outside so I know where you are.”
“Okay, Ambrose.” On her end, Ambrose could hear voices. “I have to go.” Her voice was so urgent even Ambrose shivered. “Someone is outside my room.”
“Three days’ time,” Ambrose repeated, trying to keep his voice even, through his gritted his teeth.
“I will try.”
The line went dead, and Ambrose took the phone from his ear, staring at it before laying it on the cradle again. He had no idea if he could even make it to Nebraska in two days, but she was running out of time. The flight would only take about five hours, but he’d have to stop to fuel up about half way, hopefully around Cheyenne area in Wyoming. He hoped to find an abandoned air strip where he could land. It was risky, but it was worth it.
“Hey roomie.” A knock sounded on his door. “Who you talking to?”
Ambrose scrambled to slam the phone case shut and shove it behind the fuel tanks. He threw on the light and flung the bedroom door open to see Julio standing there, stark naked.
“Jesus Christ, man.” Ambrose shielded his eyes casting them downward. Julio often wandered around naked, but that didn’t mean Ambrose had to like it. It still often made him uncomfortable, but for the sake of his manhood, he never said a word. “What do you want?”
“Well, ya woke up my sweetie.”
“Julio! Come back to bed, baby!” A low voice sounded from the other side of the wall that joined the two bedrooms.
“Oh, Christ,” Ambrose exclaimed, dismissing the strange sound from the other room. Something about it bothered him. “No one, I was talking to myself.”
“Coming, baby!” Julio yelled over his shoulder. His smile disappeared, and he leaned closer to Ambrose. “What’s in Lincoln?”
“Nobody.” Ambrose shrugged.
Julio crossed his arms. “Look, ‘Brose, you’ve been so weird the last few weeks. Sneaking out late at night even when we don’t have a fight, and you’re always coming back exhausted, we’ve almost been late for work a few times! What the hell is going on, bro?”
Ambrose just shook his head at Julio.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on.” Julio chuckled. “You got a pretty piece of pink on the side, don’t you?”
Ambrose’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to hotly deny it, but then he decided to go with it. He forced a sideways smile. “Damn, Julio, you’re good. There’s a hot Brazilian girl who works in the kitchen, and she’s a, uh, tiger in the sack?” Ambrose resisted the urge to recoil at his own statement. The thought of describing a woman like that made him want to hurl. His father would be ashamed to hear him say such things – if his father was still alive.
Julio’s face went a little shade of green but then he laughed, shaking his head. “Just… just stop, ‘Brose. Say no more, I got what you mean.”
Ambrose chuckled, then, thought it was odd for Julio to respond that way. It was as if he was, well, keeping up a pretense. “Speaking of tigers…”
“Yeah, I’d better
get back to Tressa.”
‘Tressa,’ huh, Ambrose smiled at him. There was no way that voice from the other room was from a woman. But he wasn’t going to say shit. It was none of his business.
Julio turned, but then looked back at Ambrose. “Hey, buddy, if you are planning something like… I dunno… leaving town, you’d tell me, right?”
Ambrose waved him away. “I’m not that stupid. We’d both be shot.”
“Because if you were planning something, and I’m not saying you are, but,” he dropped his voice to a mere whisper, “I’d want to go with you.”
Ambrose gaped at him. “Um, what?”
Julio turned around and stepped close to Ambrose. He whispered, “Boss been asking questions about Tressa, and ya know, the new law says we have to get even casual dates approved now.”
“You’d better watch your back,” Ambrose whispered back.
“It’s to check for genetic anomalies,” Julio spat quietly, a disgusted look on his face. They both knew the new government was harsh when it came to that. He scratched his head. “You know the penalty for unapproved relationships is execution,” Julio continued, all traces of cheery gone from his face. “You be careful with that new girl, make sure she doesn’t report your crazy ass. Like my…”
“Something up with ‘Tressa’?” Ambrose interrupted, not bothering to hide the code word anymore. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. He wished Julio would leave him alone and stop asking questions he didn’t have answers for.
“Naw, I don’t think so. No worries, just covering my bases.”
“Be careful.” Ambrose started to shut the door, hoping he would take the hint.
“You too,” Julio winked, “you crazy Samoan bastard.”
Ambrose forced himself to chuckle, though he was far from mirthful, and shut the door behind Julio.
He exhaled loudly as he felt the lock click under his fingers. Was Julio on to him? Ambrose frowned. He’d been there at the fight, sure, but he thought he’d managed to hide the red tanks well enough. Ambrose wasn’t stupid, and he knew in these last few months Julio was sharp as a tack. He would have to be more careful in his escape. Julio was smart, but Ambrose didn’t know what side he was on. Not yet. Ambrose could tell he hadn’t bought the story about the girl – of course, after four months together, Julio could tell Ambrose was lying. Exhausted and sore from head to toe, he tried to shake it off. He had to get out tonight, and time was of the essence, now that Julio suspected something was going on.
Lavender Dreams: Life After Us: Book Two Page 14