Taken (Selected Book 2)

by Robin Roseau

  "Sapphire."

  "Full name?"

  "Sapphire No-Middle-Name-I-Acknowledge Fletcher."

  She smiled. "Good. Do you know what has happened to you?"

  "I know some," I said. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Then I opened my mouth and said, "I was doing a job for the aliens. I just got back. Is this Earth?"

  I knew that wasn't it. I remembered everything. But I couldn't say it.

  "You're in Minneapolis."

  "I am?"

  "You'll be home soon, once you're thinking clearly. Do you know what else has happened?"

  I shook my head.

  "I know the truth. You know the truth, too. But you'll never tell anyone."

  I opened my mouth to tell her, but then closed it.

  "The aliens have been paying your bills and seeing to your house. They filed your taxes. You received a small refund. And you have been paid a significant sum for the inconvenience. It is tax free, so you do not need to declare it on your taxes. You can verify that with the IRS or a tax attorney."

  I nodded, beginning to understand.

  "My things. Well, all I care about are my glasses. I don't want any of the rest."

  "I will trade the visor for your glasses shortly. The visor is monitoring your mental acuity and will tell me when you're thinking sufficiently clearly to go home. I have other things for you as well. The driver will bring it all inside for you, and if you don't want it, you can throw it out yourself."

  "Fine."

  "You have enough money you do not need to immediately return to work. But I have a packet for you with information you will need. It includes a placement service. You will have no trouble finding employment, if you choose to remain in your previous line of work. If you choose a career change, it may take more time, but they will help you until you are placed to your satisfaction."

  "Thank you."

  "How are you doing?"

  "Nervous."

  "You'll be home soon."

  "I don't know this isn't a trick."

  "I understand. That's how I felt when I first got home."

  "You-"

  "Yes. I didn't care for the job they offered me, either."

  "And now you help them."

  "And now I help the people who come home, and no more." She paused. "You're going to have a hard time. All of us do. The packet has the numbers of several psychologists. You'll be able to freely talk to them, but not to any others. You'll want to visit one of them."

  "I'm not sure I'd trust anyone the aliens recommend."

  "I don't blame you, but if you have trouble, think about it."

  "All right."

  "They get under your skin. I still wonder if I made a mistake. My- um. Job offer. It was charming. Quite attractive, really. But it wasn't what I wanted."

  "I understand. My job offer came with too much deceit."

  "Ah. Not many come home."

  "They're awfully convincing."

  "That they are. Did you make friends?"

  "Some. I bet they hate me now."

  "Perhaps. Perhaps they understand."

  "I doubt it," I said. "I wasn't treated well when I made my decision."

  "You seem to be waking up," she said. "I'm going to take that visor now, and I have your glasses."

  The visor went to sleep, and a moment later, she removed it. Then she handed me a glasses case, and I found my old glasses. I hadn't worn them in months. I slipped them on and immediately missed the visor. I sighed.

  "I know. I miss mine, too. You're probably not very steady, so we're going to get you a wheel chair. And your driver is instructed to stay with you for a day or so. She'll take care of things until you're good on your own."

  "Thank you."

  She stood up and offered her hand.

  I never learned her name.

  Intervention

  Time passed. Months passed.

  I couldn't have been more miserable. I missed Bronze. I missed her horribly. I cried myself to sleep most nights, and it was three months before I could even think about a job.

  I had dreams. About half were about Bronze. The other half involved being hauled away by the aliens. In the dreams, I was helpless, and I went with them when they took me away. In some of the dreams, they experimented on my body. In others, well, thankfully I didn't remember them.

  Time passed.

  I used the placement service. I interviewed with three companies and was invited to entertain offers from all three. I actually went from one company to the next over a four-hour period and listened to all their offers.

  They each offered me different versions of the same thing. They each offered to pay me more than they should for a job with "growing responsibilities over time". I thanked each and said I'd have an answer soon.

  I then called the placement service and asked them why I was being coddled. That resulted in a phone call with a Ms. Iris Intense Look.

  "Don't tell me," I said. "Catseye."

  "Yes."

  "Are the companies making these offers also yours?"

  "As in, owned in some fashion by the extraterrestrials? No. But we pay your salary for five years. They'd take you to sit at a chair and stare into space, if that's all you could handle."

  "I don't need your charity, but I'd take a real offer. I have skills."

  "We know you do. You never would have gone through any of this if you didn't. But let me ask you something. How are you sleeping?"

  "I'm sleeping just fine, like a baby."

  "Are you? Really?"

  "No."

  "Good. Honesty. I believe a lack of honesty is why you're on Earth now."

  "I don't want to talk about that."

  "And I'm here to help. I can't do that if you're lying to me or to yourself."

  "Fine. No, I'm not sleeping. I've gone through... job loss... Damn it. Before."

  "This job loss may be somewhat more intense than the ones in the past. Each of these companies is offering you a real job but with reduced stress. The responsibilities will grow over time, as they each said. They are good, reputable companies, and I believe you could shine at any of them, once you're sleeping better."

  "How long is that going to take? I can't stop dreaming about the job I gave up."

  "Perhaps you should use one of the other numbers we gave you. If you lost that information, I can have a fresh packet sent to you, or I can have someone call you."

  "I have it. I'll think about it."

  "Ms. Fletcher, your career is important to you. Any of these jobs will give you a fresh start."

  "What do they know?"

  "They know you don't like to talk about your time away. They believe you performed a service for us, but that it was particularly harrowing, and you may be suffering temporary adverse effects. Take one of the jobs, Ms. Fletcher. It's honest work, as much as you are ready to handle, and more as you become ready for more."

  "Which one would you pick?"

  "They are all excellent companies."

  "I would appreciate your advice."

  "Framark and Associates has a glass ceiling. For men."

  I laughed. "How do they get away with that?"

  "I am not sufficiently familiar with U.S. business law to know for sure. You will never have a male supervisor with them. Perhaps that is important to you."

  She clearly knew everything about me. After that, it didn't take much more for me to decide. I took the job, and I worked as hard as I was able.

  * * * *

  Time passed. I reached the one-year anniversary of my testing. I got together with my sister and asked her to get me drunk, but not drunk enough to get sick. She incorporated a few friends, and we made a party of it. I didn't tell them why I cried, and Liz hushed them when they pushed.

  Time passed. And I reached the one-year anniversary of my final challenge with Moirai. I called Liz that morning.

  "Busy tonight?" I asked her.

  "I'm spending it with you."

  "Bring friends. And w
ine."

  She paused. "I don't mind that, but I'm worried about you."

  "I'm fine."

  "You're not. Tell me what's going on. This is about that job, isn't it? The ones with the aliens."

  "You know I don't want to talk about it, Liz. They made me sign papers and stuff."

  "Talk to me."

  "Please, Liz. Just come get me drunk again, okay? And in a few months, you can start setting me up with all your single lesbian friends."

  This time when they came, they came as an intervention, complete with my parents and a counselor besides, a woman named Dr. Lana Fergus. One from, it turns out, the list of people I could talk to. I didn't realize that until she asked everyone to let us talk in private. She led me out to the kitchen, and as soon as we were there, I turned to her.

  "I don't know what they told you, but I don't appreciate being ambushed like this. It's not very professional of you to be involved, but there's no way I want to have anything to do with you. I'm fine."

  "Are you sleeping yet?"

  "I'm sleeping fine."

  "Liar. Do you dream about her?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You should have called one of us."

  "One of whom?"

  "One of the people on the list they gave you. I know the truth. All of it." I stared at her, my mouth opening and closing a few times. "A Catseye named Iris called me, and I called your sister."

  "Meddling little shit."

  "Me?"

  "The damned Catseye."

  "Well, that's what they do. Are you sleeping?"

  "No. I keep dreaming about... my last job."

  "Want to know something else? There's a phrase. I know the truth. I know that Moirai, the woman you called Bronze, wanted you as her mate."

  I immediately began sobbing, sobbing my heart out. Dr. Fergus pulled me into her arms, and I cried onto her shoulder. Liz came in, but the doctor waved her out.

  "I can't stop thinking about her," I said. "I dream about her every night. And she's at least as miserable as I am. I know she is. I don't know what to do!"

  "You're going to make me a promise. You're going to come see me at 3:00 tomorrow afternoon, and for every afternoon thereafter until you're sleeping. Promise me now."

  "I promise," I blubbered.

  "Good. I have a prescription for you. It will help you sleep. I am giving it to your sister, and then your parents and I will leave."

  But I clung to her a while longer. Eventually she passed me off to Liz.

  Liz and my friends got me just barely tipsy, and then she sent all of them home and escorted me to my room. She helped me get ready for bed, then gave me one pill.

  "You get two a night after this, but not after drinking. No more drinking for a while."

  "Yes, Boss Of Me."

  "I'm not leaving them here for you. I will come give you one every night."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "Yes, I do. And you're going to stop fighting me."

  "Yes, Boss of Me."

  "Dr. Fergus is going to call me any day you even think about missing your appointments, and then I'm going to come kick your ass and drag you to her. Am I clear?"

  "Yes, Boss of Me."

  "Good." She gave me the pill then crawled into bed and held me until I fell asleep.

  I love my sister.

  * * * *

  Time passed. I continued to see Dr. Fergus every afternoon at 3:00, and every night, Liz stopped by and helped me sleep.

  I still dreamt about Bronze, and in my dreams, she grew thinner, she looked sicker, and when she looked at me, the light was gone from her eyes.

  I remained miserable.

  The other dreams continued, too.

  I bought a gun. I didn't tell anyone.

  Doorbell

  I was waiting for Liz, and so it was first with irritation, and then fear when the doorbell rang.

  I grabbed my gun. It wasn't a pansy little handgun. It was a big-ass shotgun. And I knew how to use it.

  I moved to the door, flipped on the porch light, peeked out the window, and nearly shit my pants, literally.

  There were four uniformed people on my porch step, and I recognized them.

  I put my back to the door. "Go away!" I screamed. "I'm not going with you. Get off my property!"

  "Ms. Fletcher," one called out. I thought it was Agent Johnson. "We have a message for you, and a package."

  "Fuck off! I don't want anything from her."

  "Which her is that?" asked one of the women. "This is from someone named Jasmine Brighteyes."

  "Not interested."

  "Please, Ms. Fletcher. Let us come in. It's cold out here."

  "It was cold last time you were here, too."

  "It's a delivery. That's all!"

  "Leave it on the step."

  "Those aren't our orders. We need to come in, verify the recipient, give you the package and note, and then wait."

  "Wait for what?"

  "For you to read the note and open the package."

  "Listen very carefully!" I yelled. "Are you listening carefully?"

  "Yes, Ms. Fletcher."

  I pumped the shotgun. "Do you recognize that noise?"

  "Yes. Ms. Fletcher, really. It's a delivery. But you have to let us in if you want to see it."

  I stepped away from the door. "The door is unlocked," I said. "But I have a shotgun, and if you make a step towards me, someone is dying."

  The door opened slowly, and then I saw Agent Swain. She was, indeed, holding a package. I eyed her carefully, and past her, the other three.

  "May I come in?" she asked.

  "You know what happens if you take any sudden steps."

  "No sudden steps," she agreed. She stepped inside. The other three followed her and closed the door. But then they moved in no deeper. I put a good ten feet between us.

  "Set it down and leave."

  "I can't do that. I can set it down. You may read the note and open the package. But then you need to give us an answer."

  "What answer?"

  "Read the note."

  "Fine." I backed up further. "Set it there." I indicated an end table. "And then back up."

  She moved forward slowly.

  "I have a letter opener," she said. "I'm going to take it out and set it here as well."

  "Open the letter with it."

  "I can't do that. It's from one of the aliens. It can be very bad to open their letters if you aren't the intended recipient."

  "We need to check," Johnson said. "We need to make sure she's the right one."

  "We've met before," I said. "Do you remember coming to this house, wrapping handcuffs on my wrists, and then delivering me to the aliens? Do you remember violating my Constitutional rights and betraying your humanity while you did it? Do you remember ruining my life?"

  "It's her," Swain said. "Don't be an ass, Johnson." She withdrew a letter opener from inside her jacket, showed it to me, then set it on top of the envelope, waiting on top of the package. Then she slowly backed away. I waited until she had her back against the wall before I stepped forward. I glanced down. Then I carefully cradled the gun.

  "Ma'am," said Agent Kemp. "You really don't want to shoot us, do you?"

  "Maybe I do. Do you have any idea what I've been through? And you helped."

  "Not really, ma'am, but if you want to shoot us, go right ahead. But if not, perhaps you can set the gun aside."

  "I don't think so. I don't trust you."

  "I know, but I don't believe you want to accidentally shoot anyone, and you're going to need two hands."

  I changed the aim on the gun slightly to the right of the four of them then grabbed the letter and opener, balancing the gun carefully. Then I backed away before I felt safe enough to move it to the crook of my arm. But then I shook my head and lifted the gun again.

  "No. You have handcuffs with you, don't you?"

  "Ma'am, we're not here for that."

  "Do you have handcuffs or not?"
>
  "Well, yes, but-"

  "Good. Handcuff yourselves together, right wrist to right wrist, and clamp it down nice and tight. You don't have to give me the keys, but it will slow you down."

  "Ma'am-"

  "Just do it," said the other man. I couldn't remember his name.

  "I hate this job," Johnson complained. I watched carefully as they cuffed themselves together in a sort of star, right wrists in the middle.

  "Good. Move from there, and I'm opening fire. I can't help but hit some of you, even if you rush me."

  "We won't move," Agent Kemp said gently.

  I set the safety on and lowered the gun, butt first, to the floor, leaning it against the sofa. Then I picked up the letter, still watching them, and slit it open. I withdrew two sheets of paper.

  Sapphire Fletcher,

  This is a matter of life or death. It is only for the gravest of reasons that I disturb your peace, but I couldn't stand by and do nothing.

  Please open the package and then read the second note.

  You may not believe it, but I am your friend.

  Jasmine Brighteyes

  "Fucking manipulative bitch," I muttered. "You four don't move." I grabbed the gun, stepped forward, and snatched the package from the end table before hurrying away from them again. They didn't move, so I set the gun back down and used the opener to slice the packaging. I opened one box to find another box.

  The inside box was metal, and I recognized it.

  "What are you doing, Jasmine?"

  I opened the box carefully, and nestled inside was a visor.

  "This is not happening," I said. "God damn it."

  I set it down and picked up the second note.

  Sapphire Fletcher,

  Please read this entire letter before you explode.

  Hopefully you have opened the package and seen what I have sent to you. This is not a gift. It is a bribe, plain and simple. I desperately need your help.

  "Fuck you, Jasmine."

  I need you to come to me. A conversation. That is it. You will be gone for two or possibly three days. Then if you choose to help me, you will be gone somewhat longer. If you do not choose to help, you will return home, none the worse for wear, and the visor is yours. The only condition is you must come talk to me.

  I would come to you, but there are reasons you must come here.