Project- Heritage

by Rob Horner

  “I…well…all right,” Harry said, casting another wistful glance at the gathered people in the living room.

  Despite the palpable tension in the air—what with three special agents and a Navy Lieutenant all ganging up on one middle-aged woman—Barnes supposed he could understand why Harry didn’t want to leave. What did he have to look forward to, after all, but a return to an empty house, a microwave dinner from a frozen carton, and lonely reruns on Netflix? With Travis and Sherry in the wind, it was unlikely Harry would even have the same job come Monday. He was a good surveillance technician and would get another assignment, but it still meant a change.

  Harry nodded one last time to Lieutenant Barnes, then turned and ambled out of the house.

  “Now what?” Agent Black asked softly.

  “Now we wait,” Travers said, fixing Victoria Galer with his cold stare. “Sooner or later, Sherry will call her newly rediscovered mother, if for no better reason than to tell her that she and her man are fine and dandy shacking up in some motel. When she does, we’ll have them.”

  While he spoke, Travers kept his eyes glued to Victoria’s face, enjoying her reactions. Barnes couldn’t decide if he looked more like a predator enjoying the scent of fear, or a bully relishing his greater strength.

  It wasn’t fear, however, that made Victoria draw herself up in her chair. With remarkable conviction she said, “And if you think my daughter will be that stupid, then you are as ignorant as you are impolite. They’ve already managed to get away from your high-tech listening devices. What makes you so certain they’ll put themselves in jeopardy by calling me?”

  “Let me put it to you this way,” Agent Travers said, neither his voice nor his features betraying a hint of compromise, “if they don’t call you, and soon, you’ll die.” He waited while Victoria’s face went red with barely suppressed outrage, then began to pale as she realized the agent meant every word he said. “You understand now, I see. They hold your life in their hands. If we can’t use you to bring them back to the nest, then you’re worthless to us.”

  Victoria lowered her head into her hands, alternately praying that Sherry was hundreds of miles away, and that she would hurry up and call, no matter if it meant that she’d be recaptured. At least they’d be together, and then they could worry about the rest.

  11

  Sherry reached the entrance to the store slightly before Travis. Apparently, his recent clothing choices required a little less picking it off the rack and a lot more trying it on first than he was used to. The deep and incessant rumblings in her stomach disturbed her, but she appeased herself with the knowledge that their next stop would be a restaurant. Honestly, she had no idea how she’d lasted so long without something to eat and could only assume surprise and excitement were responsible. Certainly, she would never fast this long voluntarily.

  She thought over her recent purchases while she waited. She’d made her first selections based on purely practical reasons, limiting herself to jeans and shirts that complimented but weren’t too much of anything. Then she’d turned her attention to a few other choices, clothes that could be called practical, considering the warm weather Virginia Beach endured during August and September. But she couldn’t really fool herself with those reasons, not when her choices included a short skirt and an almost transparent halter top. When she’d finally turned her attention to undergarments, she’d found several items that did not meet the definition of practical, but which she was sure would catch Travis’s attention, if only she had the nerve to wear any of it in front of him. The area devoted to toiletries didn’t provide everything she needed, but it did have scented soaps. Hopefully the hotel could provide a toothbrush.

  Sherry was drawn from her contemplation by the sudden resurgence of the soft buzzing in her head that signified Travis’s thoughts. Either he was trying to contact her or… Then he appeared at her side but came from farther in the mall rather than from inside Kohl’s.

  Turning, she offered him a smile. Travis carried only two bags, and the handles were looped over one of his forearms, leaving his hands free to carry two cups of cappuccino from the Nestle Toll House Cafe.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Sherry said automatically, though that didn’t stop her from transferring the bags in one hand to the other and reaching greedily for the cup.

  Travis didn’t say anything as Sherry brought the beverage to her lips. Closing her eyes, she sipped through the small plastic opening, anticipating the rush of frothy milk and the syrupy coffee beneath. When the liquid hit her mouth, she swallowed with pleasure. Surprise lit her eyes as she looked at Travis, who’d had the cappuccino made exactly as she liked it.

  “How did you—” Sherry began, at which point Travis’s smile spread from one side of his face to the other.

  “You like?”

  “It’s perfect. But how?”

  Travis shook his head, already reaching to take her bags.

  “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “What’d you have in mind?” Travis asked.

  “Well, there is the Village Inn right across the street. They serve breakfast all day.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Sherry couldn’t resist another smile as Travis shouldered open the glass doors for her. The brilliance of the sunlight echoed her frame of mind. Despite all the strangeness, it was turning out to be one of the best days of her life, with a man so incredible that nothing could go wrong in his presence.

  And, for the next few hours, she might even be able to forget the reasons why they were together and just enjoy the time as any woman would with a man so deliciously attentive and attractive.

  12

  Victoria Galer had never been so afraid in her life. Or for her life, she amended thoughtfully. She had to deliberately concentrate on the situation in her living room to prevent the impossible events of the day from overwhelming her.

  First came the sudden appearance of her daughter, whom she’d believed dead. Hell, she’d attended the funeral. Which made it difficult to reconcile her memories of grief with the joy she felt at seeing Sherry alive and holding her close to her bosom.

  Then came her daughter’s revelations, events so incomprehensible that Victoria could have discounted them entirely, preferring to believe it had all been a terrible mistake, except something about the way her daughter explained everything made a crazy, Big Brother Gone Mad kind of sense.

  And then there was this business with the young man named Travis, another unfortunate caught up in this craziness. What could those two have done to deserve such treatment? It didn’t make sense, tampering with their memories to the point of informing their parents they were dead simply to keep them from making contact.

  Victoria had read enough novels about government conspiracies to recognize one when she was in it. It had taken only this final blow, the appearance of unidentified agents who turned her home into a suburban field headquarters, to convince her.

  The problem was, Vicki had no idea how to handle this sort of thing.

  In the books she loved to read—specifically the later offerings by Dean Koontz—the hero or heroine always knew what to do. Their every action was designed to hamper the government while ensuring their own survival. But those were just books, and Vicki couldn’t fool herself into thinking things would work out as smoothly for her. For one thing, she was so frightened she could hardly think, let alone plan some singular action that would get her and Sherry out of this mess.

  The government agents were dead set on using her as a hostage in order to bring her wayward daughter in. And if Vicki knew Sherry, that is exactly what would happen. But maybe, just maybe, she could prevent that.

  The lead agent had eloquently stated Vicki’s usefulness would end as soon as Sherry was back in their hands. They thought her own survival meant anything in the face of ensuring her daughter’s safety. None of them were parents; none of them knew the lengths to which a mother would go to protect h
er child. Travis sounded like an intelligent young man, if what Sherry said was true. She could only hope he’d be capable of doing what Victoria couldn’t, finding a way to escape from a government determined to destroy them all lay with him.

  Sherry would call sometime before the end of the day and she’d demand to hear her mother’s voice as proof that Vicki was still alive. That would be her only chance to get a short message to her. She could make it heroic, of course, by telling Sherry to concentrate on saving herself. If she knew her daughter, that would only guarantee Sherry turning herself in. No, Vicki needed to say something else, something designed to make Sherry contemplate the value of her own life rather than her mother’s. Desperately, Vicki concentrated on finding the right combination of words to do the trick.

  13

  The Village Inn Restaurant was two minutes away, directly across Independence Boulevard from the mall. Neither Travis nor Sherry spoke during the short drive. Travis respected Sherry’s silence and fought to keep himself from hearing her thoughts. Sherry picked up on his mental struggle and did her best to reciprocate. It was a tactic both would have to master, since everyone needs a little private thinking time.

  But once inside the restaurant, with its comfortably-cushioned chairs and tables set at just the right height to allow heads to rest on arms propped at the elbows, their conversation began in earnest, interrupted only by the waitress, who took their orders for coffee and breakfast platters quickly and efficiently. The subdued interior provided a pretense of privacy, despite the press of Saturday lunchtime diners. The general hum of conversation from other tables was an effective baffle against anyone overhearing them.

  “Okay,” Sherry began, giving Travis her best inquisitive gaze, blue eyes sparkling, “spill it. How did you know how I liked my coffee? You couldn’t have randomly guessed I would want a splash of hazelnut. It’s not like we’ve had time to discuss these things with each other.”

  “No, it’s not, is it?” Travis replied, smiling slightly yet doing his best to remain serious. It was a neat trick and he was proud of himself for figuring it out, but he knew Sherry would need the ability as well. “Okay,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I was finished shopping, and I knew the coffee stand wasn’t far away.”

  Sherry nodded, opening her mind to Travis—a trick that was becoming easier the more time she spent with him—so she could catch every nuance of his speech.

  “Well, I thought it would be nice to have a cup of cappuccino, but I didn’t know if you liked it. So, I tried contacting you, to ask you before I bought it. But…well…as soon as I started getting images from you, it seemed you were thinking pretty hard about something.”

  “What?” Sherry asked.

  He shook his head. “I guess it was the thinking about the coffee, but suddenly I was catching other images from you. It was like watching a movie, though it was probably one of your memories, you know? I saw you at the same coffee stand, asking the barista to add a splash of hazelnut. I saw you after you got the cup, adding one packet of raw sugar.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Sherry said, “you prompted me with a suggestion and got information without me knowing it was happening?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry if it—”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Sherry said quickly, waving away his intended apology for reading her thoughts, realizing that was not as important as the possibilities it revealed. “Don’t you see what this means?” she asked.

  “I do,” Travis replied, leaning towards her across the small table. “It means that we can read minds, and not just prominent thoughts.”

  “And probably not just each other’s,” Sherry added, remembering what happened to them as soon as they entered the mall.

  “Well,” Travis said, forcing himself to keep his voice lowered, “we can test that theory.”

  “Yes,” Sherry agreed, “we can.” Almost solemnly, she reached her hand across the table.

  “Right now?” Travis asked.

  “Scared?” she asked, and Travis caught the playful tone.

  “No, just—”

  “What?”

  Travis blushed. “Well, this may sound silly, but—”

  “No, go ahead.”

  “I was…um…kind of hoping to keep this lunch as, you know, normal as possible.” He tried to adopt a serious look and tone of voice. “This is our first date, after all.”

  Sherry giggled, then said, Nothing can be normal where we’re concerned. Not anymore.

  Yeah, Travis agreed, I guess you’re right.

  Besides, Sherry added, as long as we’ve got these abilities, we ought to try to get used to them.

  And to each other, Travis replied.

  “This could be kind of fun, like a date dare,” Sherry said.

  “Okay then,” Travis said, smiling now, “I dare you to find out what kind of dessert those people over there—” he pointed at another couple sitting in a corner booth four tables away “—ordered.”

  “Give me your hand,” Sherry said, wiggling her fingers on the table.

  “A request no sane man would refuse,” Travis replied, taking Sherry’s hand in his own.

  Eyesight doubled as blue and green superimposed over their vision.

  Can you hear them? Travis asked.

  Loud and clear, Sherry replied, fighting to isolate the specific threads of thought she wanted.

  It took her a few seconds, but she finally managed to separate the mental voices of the targeted diners.

  This is good practice, Sherry thought, struggling to maintain her concentration. It’s odd, too, because they’re talking.

  Yeah, I know, Travis said. We can hear their spoken words, as well as what they’re thinking.

  I can’t believe it! Sherry said. That guy is telling her how much he loves her, but—

  His mind is on another woman, Travis finished for her. He could see both in the man’s mind, the blond across the table and a taller, younger brunette in his thoughts. I guess it takes all kinds.

  You’re not like him, I hope.

  Am I?

  Sherry frowned, staring into Travis’s eyes for a moment. There was a flash of another woman—a girlfriend? —but also a calm certainty of a relationship ended. An ex-girlfriend, then.

  No, she said after a moment, you’re not. I doubt I’d be sitting here with you if you were. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she asked, When did you break up with her?

  Travis smiled sadly. We didn’t so much break up as she informed me she was one of the people watching me. She’d been watching me for six months. She never told me who hired her, though. He realized he hadn’t answered her question, so he added, That was this morning, right about the time you were breaking free of your fake marriage.

  So, they did arrange someone for you. I’d been wondering if it was just me.

  “No,” he said softly, “but I’m thankful it happened this way.” His eyes were so green they almost glowed. “I’m thankful to be free, thankful that you’re free, and that we’re sitting here together.”

  Wow, Sherry thought to herself.

  “Just, you know, remind me to never think of another woman when you’re around,” he added playfully.

  “Which should be just about always,” Sherry replied, sharing his smile.

  “God, I hope so,” Travis muttered.

  Sherry took the words as they were meant and didn’t respond for fear that she would say—or think—the wrong thing.

  I guess it’s rather sudden, isn’t it? Travis thought worriedly.

  “It’ll just take some getting used to,” Sherry replied, smiling again to cover her insecurity, and to ensure Travis that he’d done nothing wrong.

  Coughing, Travis sought to return the conversation to its original purpose. “Well, what did they order for dessert?”

  How do I do this? Just think about dessert and kind of transmit that suggestion to them?

  I think that’s what I did.

&nb
sp; Okay, here goes.

  Travis felt the thought go out, almost as if Sherry were trying to communicate with the couple. He could sense the difference between the thoughts they shared, and the power behind Sherry’s suggestion. He felt it when the suggestion hit them. Their minds replied with images, just as Sherry’s had when he’d suggested coffee. His mind filled with pictures of various sweets, everything from candy bars to extravagant souffles.

  More specific, he thought to Sherry.

  The images resolved into two distinct pictures. One of them—from the man—was of a chocolate brownie sundae, a Village Inn specialty. Another was of apple pie, but with a scoop of chocolate ice cream on top, rather than the usual vanilla.

  “Wow!” Sherry exclaimed softly, withdrawing her thoughts from the couple. “It works.”

  “Just don’t go using it on me,” Travis cautioned jokingly.

  “And why not? You did it to me.” Her dark ginger curls bounced softly on her shoulders as she leaned in.

  “Well, that was an accident.”

  “But an informative one,” Sherry pointed out, removing her hand from Travis’s grasp.

  “Aw, leaving so soon?” Travis teased her.

  “If I keep holding your hand, our waitress is likely to think something,” she said softly.

  “Let her. I do,” he replied, causing Sherry to lower her head as she hid a hot flush. How had this happened so fast? It was almost unbelievable, yet she wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Good, that makes two of us.

  Sherry raised her eyes to Travis’s, watching as his full lips turned up in a secret smile meant for her alone. God, to feel those lips pressed against hers…

  In response to her thought, Travis rose from his side of the booth.

  “What’re you—" Sherry began but was interrupted by Travis placing a finger against his lips. Instantly her fears of being captured returned. Why else would he be so secretive?