by Joel Adrian
Emersyn pressed her foot to the pedal, now twice as pissed off at herself as she was 10 minutes ago when she walked out the door.
The drive home was long and lonely. Emersyn brought the radio to life for some company but couldn’t find anything she liked. The car was much too old to have an aux input, and the only things she could find over the air were preachers warning about judgment day, a country station playing songs from four decades ago, and a modern pop station belting out autotuned trash.
She settled on the pop station but turned the volume barely above audible. The traffic was backed up, as it always was on the streets at rush hour. She’d normally admire the dense urban setting and take in the people of the city from the safety of her car, but tonight was different. She was too upset with herself to think straight.
Fridays were the day everybody loved. Work was usually easy-going at Atriarch. Call volume wasn’t quite as high as it normally was, everyone was in a good mood, and if Gary felt generous, he let folks leave an hour or two early.
But while Emersyn had gone in ready for the weekend, a mere 9 hours later, she now had a full day of work tomorrow, and a half-day on Sunday. Then another 40-hour week after that.
She rested her head on her hand, staring at the back of the delivery truck in front of her. Things weren’t going her way lately. Stuck in the same role for 6 years, and she was still the office workhorse. You’ve got to learn to tell them no, she told herself. But it was so much easier said than done.
Emersyn hadn’t accomplished near as much as she’d liked to have done in her 29 years. Her career wasn’t successful, she had a one-bedroom apartment in a bad neighborhood, and a relationship that couldn’t be duller if it tried. She loved Ollie, but he never seemed to reciprocate the feeling beyond saying the words and going through the motions.
By the time she reached Blackwood Ave, she’d transitioned from kicking herself for her mistake to trying (and failing) to put the situation out of her head. It was a struggle, because the more she told herself to stop thinking about it and enjoy her evening, the more the anger came out at herself.
She looped around the block twice, searching for a parking spot on the street. She could feel her cheeks flushing red the more she looked. “Damn it!” she yelled, moving on to the next street a block away. She could feel every little aggravation chipping away and getting under her skin.
There was a lone spot at the end of the next street. She parked, locked her car, and started the trek back to her house. The streets in the neighborhood were all filled with houses converted into apartments, squished together and leaving very little room between them. They all sported different fading colors, many with poor repairs done to them and broken windows.
Hers was slightly better than the rest, but she still hated it. She made her way up the steps to the porch, then through the double set of doors, punching in the same 3-1-4-5 code she punched in every day to open the lock. The four floors of stairs took her to the front of her unit: apartment 406.
Once inside, she tossed her bag aside and collapsed on her stained brown couch. She groaned, needing to will herself up to make something to eat and force herself to enjoy the evening. She needed to enjoy every second of tonight because her weekend had mysteriously disappeared in a vanish of cowardice and fear.
There you go again, she told herself. She pressed her palms to her head and groaned. Stop with those thoughts!
Her stomach growled. She’d hardly eaten a lunch. But the thought of getting up, finding something to eat, preparing it . . . it was far too much work.
She grabbed the remote from the floor and turned her small, flat-screen television on. She flipped through the stations idly, looking for anything that would grab her attention. She skipped past local news, a horror film, a sitcom, and finally landed on one of the national news networks.
She despised this garbage, but there was nothing else on.
The female anchor was reporting that the Russian government was undergoing a radical change, as their new Prime Minister promised them a revolution in how the country was run and how it negotiated with the other nations of the world.
The anchor asked her guest what this meant for the USA, and the guest speculated that there wouldn’t be any immediate danger or threat, but in the long-term, nothing good was going to come from the Prime Minister’s promise of change.
Sick of the news already, Emersyn stood with a groan and turned towards her kitchen area. It was just a stove and mini-fridge in the corner of the living room. She walked towards the fridge, stepping over the piles of clothes and trash she’d let accumulate. She knew she should clean it, but decided that since she’d already stood to cook, that cleaning could wait.
She ate her mediocre dinner of instant noodles and had a cinnamon bun for dessert. The sticky, sweet taste of the cinnamon bun was incredible, and for a moment it made her feel satisfied. She was able to push the worry from her mind.
Then it came back.
The whirlwind of anger at herself stormed her mind. Yes, Gary, I’ll work a half day tomorrow, so you don’t have to ask someone else. Yes, Anne, I’ll cover your shift because you want to spend the day shopping. Yes, yes, yes. She groaned.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, welcoming the distraction. “Ollie” popped up on the screen. She bit her lip, debating as to whether she was going to answer or not.
She slid the answer button over and held the phone to her ear. “Hey.”
She heard him breathing heavily into the phone for several seconds. “Sweetie. Mind if we go on a date tonight?”
She glanced at the empty cinnamon bun wrapper in her hand. “Sorry, I just ate. Do you have anything else you’d want to do?” she asked, hoping for some spontaneous activity to jolt his mind and they could break up the monotony of a date night every Friday.
“Nope,” he replied. She heard him cough, but he didn’t say anything else.
“What are you going to be doing tonight?” she finally asked.
“Playing some Legendary Warriors 7.”
She could hear him clacking on a keyboard in the background. Whenever Ollie wasn’t at her place, or on a date with her, he was in front of his computer playing a game. She didn’t understand how he dumped hours a day into it, but it was the one thing he was passionate about. He spent as much time on the game as she wished he spent with her.
“Ollie, I have to . . . go shower. I took extra shifts this weekend.”
“K. Do you love me?” he asked, just as he always did. He needed constant reassurment she loved him, like a box he could check.
“You know I do,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow after my shift. I’ll text you.”
“K. Bye.”
The line went dead, and Emersyn was alone again.
She tossed the wrapper into the overflowing garbage can and sighed. She hadn’t lied to Ollie—the one thing she’d been craving after work was a nice, long, hot shower. Hell, she might splurge and make it a bath. She hadn’t had one of those in at least a decade.
Emersyn took her white dress shirt off, unbuttoning it and tossing it to the floor. Being in just her black tank top and slacks felt good—the dress shirts always got hot this time of year.
She made her way into the bathroom. Though not as messy as the living room, it certainly stood for improvement. She reached over and cranked the hot water handle to the max, throwing her head back and yawning. A long bath and a nice, welcoming sleep would make for the best evening she could muster. Maybe she’d even get out in time to catch the final episode of Hospitalized, her favorite medical drama.
Turning to grab a new bar of soap from the counter, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She didn’t care much for what she saw and turned away quickly. Her round face and sullen brown eyes weren’t pleasing to anybody. She’d wished more times than she could count to be gifted a new appearance. This skin wasn’t comfortable for her.
The soap was clean-scented and fresh. She wa
s excited to scrub the taint of the day off her. It’d make her feel like she was finally free of the choices she’d made (or so she hoped.) All she could do now was enjoy her evening.
Damn it, she thought, there you go again.
A loud bang at the door caused her to drop the soap in the rising bath water. She turned down and pulled her phone from her pocket. 7:12 P.M. Who the hell would be at her door at this time? The few friends she had were in this time on a Friday night, and they’d certainly text or call before they just showed up. Spontaneity was aberrant among them.
Two more loud raps on the door. Whoever it was, they were making it sound urgent. I just can’t catch a break.
She groaned and stood. Not wanting to go through the hassle of buttoning up the dress shirt, she snagged a gray long-sleeved shirt from the ground and carelessly threw it over her head and shoulders.
Peering through the peephole, she saw a buff, older black man with a crew cut wearing army fatigues. The sight almost made her laugh: what in God’s name would someone from the military be doing at her door? She couldn’t be less important.
She clicked the deadbolt lock free and opened the door.
The soldier stared at her, eyes tracing her up and down. She immediately felt judged, her own eyes going to the ground.
“Emersyn Berg?” the soldier asked, his voice loud and direct.
“Y-yes,” she managed, wanting to close the door and retreat to the safety of her apartment.
The soldier sucked in a deep breath and seemed to relax. “I’m Sergeant Major Bravon Pearson with the US Army. There’s been a development, a situation that requires your presence. It’s of the utmost national security. I can’t say much else here, but I need you to quickly pack a bag and come with me. I have a car outside.”
Emersyn studied Bravon as he spoke. Once he finished, she raised her head and laughed like a mad woman.
Bravon narrowed his gaze. “I can assure you this is no laughing matter, young lady.”
Emersyn kept laughing. Somehow, this soldier showing up at the end of one of the most stressful days she’d had claiming to be with the army and telling her she was to come with him put her over the edge. “Oh, that’s great. I’m that important, am I?” Her guard lowered. She turned and walked back into the apartment. “I’ve got to give it to Ollie, I didn’t expect this from him.”
She decided to forgive Ollie. This prank was far more spontaneous than anything he’d ever done in the past.
Bravon stepped into the apartment, looking around with his laser-focused gaze. “You are Emersyn Berg, 29, work at Atriarch Communications, yes?”
“What, did he have to give you my entire profile?”
The man pulled a neatly-folded paper from his pocket and opened it. “Let’s see. Community college dropout, used to live in Columbus, now in Akron. Your mother died when you were 12, looks like—”
“I never told anyone that,” she said, interrupting him. Suddenly her calm, relaxed, laughing demeanor turned rigid and stiff. What the hell was going on?
“US Government has a record of damn-near everything, Ms. Berg. Now, are you willing to take me a bit more seriously?” He reached up and scratched his graying mustache. “This is urgent. We need you to comply. I can’t say more.”
She studied the clothes on the ground. “You want me to drop everything, a-and leave?” Even the concept she couldn’t comprehend. “I-I can’t. I work tomorrow. I have a boyfriend, I can’t just . . . go.”
Sergeant Bravon re-folded the document and tucked it away. He crossed his hands in front of him. “I understand the concern. I can assure you this: we won’t be gone too long, and you’ll be fully excused from any absence of work. Your boyfriend will have to understand this goes beyond your relationship. This is a US Government matter now.”
“I-I need to . . . to sit.” She turned and sat on the edge of her bed. Her world was spinning, suddenly dizziness had taken her like a punch to the head. She was needed by the government? There was a Sergeant Major in her bedroom? Somehow, they both felt like absurd exclamation marks to the taxing day she’d had so far.
“If I say no?” she asked.
Bravon shook his head. “Asking is a formality, Ms. Berg. I’d rather not go there, and I know you wouldn’t either. Let’s both save ourselves some trouble and get this done professionally.”
She stood and started packing a small bag of clothes, toiletries, and anything else important she could find. It felt dissociative, she knew she was packing but she didn’t feel like the one doing it. It was like she was observing, watching, but not in control. Bravon helped hand her clothes, and the bag was full and ready to go a few minutes later.
She pulled her phone out and quickly texted Ollie that something had come up and she was leaving town for the weekend. She had no idea when she’d be back, but she wanted someone to know where she was. As soon as she slid the phone back into her pocket and started towards the door with Bravon, reality hit her in the face.
There wasn’t going to be a half-shift tomorrow, and a full shift after that. She didn’t have to worry about Ollie’s monotonous date planning. She was being whisked away by the US Army.
Her heart pounded out of her chest as Bravon stepped aside and motioned her through the door. She kept her eyes low as she passed through it, fear pounding the walls of her mind.
The one thing she hated more than monotony was the unknown.
Chapter 2
The vehicle was a large, black SUV with tinted windows. Emersyn climbed into the backseat, and Bravon took the one directly in front of her. The driver was an aging man in his 50’s wearing a suit and a pair of large black sunglasses.
“All set?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” Bravon replied, pulling his door shut. “Let’s get to Fort Ashen.”
Fort Ashen? She didn’t know much about the army, but Fort Ashen was in Georgia. So not only was she going out of town, she was crossing state lines and heading south. She’d never even left the state of Ohio before.
Emersyn tried to quell her straining breaths. Her entire world had been flipped upside down, her mind was working overtime trying to process what had happened so far, and what was still to come.
She saw Bravon eye her in the mirror. “Ms. Berg, you don’t look so great.” He reached into the glove box and pulled a small bottle out. Turning to her, he offered a pill he’d produced.
She grabbed it, and he also offered a bottle of water, which she gladly took as well. “W-whats—”
“It’s not going to hurt you,” he interrupted. “It’s a relaxation pill. Put you to sleep for the drive. Relieve some of that tension.”
Her anxiety was pounding knots into her stomach, and she decided to take Bravon at his word. She shoved the small, white pill into her mouth and downed a gulp of water. She screwed the cap back on and let the bottle slide onto the seat next to her, turning and looking out the window.
Dusk had fully set in as they departed Blackwood Ave. Only the orange-yellow light tugging at the edges of the horizon bled through the cracks in the buildings. Bravon and the driver were silent as they transitioned from street to street, eventually merging onto the highway.
She could feel the pill hit her quickly. Her eyelids struggled to stay open. The will to ask Bravon the questions forming in her cloudy mind drained itself. She leaned her head against the window and watched. Her world dissolved, and seconds later she was out.
Waking up was difficult. She groaned and leaned back, her eyes struggling to open and take in the light. The smell of bacon and eggs filled her nostrils and helped nudge her awake. Her stomach roared, she hadn’t eaten since last night.
Emersyn groggily glanced around. She was still in the SUV, Bravon was there, the driver was there, and she was being transported to a military base. Damn, she thought. Her fear and anxiety wasted no time, churning butterflies in her stomach.
Bravon turned around and held up a crinkled white bag. “You slept all night. We stopped for breakfast, go
t you a sandwich.”
She snatched the bag, glancing out the window. They were on a long stretch of highway, no twists or turns in sight. The sun was peeking over the horizon, giving dawn to a new day.
Her hand fished the sandwich out of the bag and freed it from the wrapper. She took two large bites, eager to devour her breakfast.
“Easy there,” Bravon said, something resembling a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “No rush.”
She finished her sandwich, staring at the cars they passed. She still wasn’t sure what they wanted with her. She was a good citizen, worked, never broke the law or hurt anyone. The way Bravon spoke made her feel like she was a most-wanted suspect or a terrorist. Emersyn searched the depths of her mind, going all the way back to her childhood, trying to recall any reason the government or army would want anything to do with her. Nothing came to her.
Emersyn realized she didn’t know much about her father’s life. He’d left her and her mother when she was 5, and only called occasionally. The two talked once or twice a year now, but even then it felt forced. Maybe he was wrapped up in something that caused this.
She crinkled the wrapper of the sandwich back up in her hands and tossed it into the bag. “So, when do I get to know . . . anything?”
“Soon. But you’re going to have to sign a whole bunch of forms, make sure you realize how serious this is.” Bravon picked up his cell phone and touched one of the icons on the screen.
Emersyn felt her heart drop. Were they going to lock her away in some camp or prison? He’d said serious, that had to indicate she’d done something wrong, didn’t it? “Can you at least tell me . . . am I in trouble? Did I break a law?”
Bravon eyed her in the mirror, exhaling. “I can’t tell you anything. Just be patient.”
She leaned back, defeated. That was the furthest she’d pressed anyone in a long time, and it took being forced from her home and put into a car with a Sergeant to do it. She might have laughed at herself if she didn’t feel so afraid.