by C. R. Asay
“Ow. What?” I pressed my hand above my ear. The ache in my head thudded away. “What do you want?”
Thurmond’s eyebrows lowered. Xavier Coy paused. When I finally looked at him his eyes tightened.
“I was saying, Miss Rose, that The Omniscient Observer is one of my favorites. A real classic, if I do say so myself.” His grin looked forced, and he went on with a hint of reciprocal dislike. “The critics gave it five stars, not two, and I was even nominated for an Oscar in the role of Davis Clay.”
Xavier beckoned to someone behind me. Angie strode up with a veritable army of people carrying items ranging from trays of food and hangers of clothing to stacks of papers and folders. I was shunted to the side as the people surrounded Xavier, asking him to sign this and approve that. He answered with confidence, often giving orders or speaking harshly to someone who seemed to have done his or her job less than perfect. Fascinating, and a bit disgusting.
I stepped back to avoid being trampled, until I bumped into someone. Pain jarred through my shoulder. I blinked up at Thurmond.
“Come on.” He held a tray of food. “Let’s get away from this circus.”
Thurmond’s hand supported me at the small of my back as we made our way up the steps of the Winnebago, escaping Xavier’s entourage.
I slid onto the soft leather couch behind the table with a tired groan. Thurmond placed the tray on the table and sat to my left. His arm relaxed on the seat back, and he leaned in to take the lid off the food.
“Thanks.” I picked up a black plastic fork, examining the food in front of me: curls of bean sprouts amid a mystery meat and other veggies. I grimaced. Hollywood health garbage. I stabbed a piece of broccoli, smelled it, and put it in my mouth. Not bad. Of course, just because I was hungry enough to eat tofu didn’t necessarily mean it was good. I ate in silence before striking up the conversation again. “What do you think of Mr. Coy? You’ve probably talked to him more than I have.”
“I haven’t, actually,” Thurmond picked out a bean sprout and stuck it in his mouth. “He asked me a few personal questions, but he seems more interested in you.”
“Why? Because I’m so alien?” My sarcasm annoyed even me.
“Maybe because you needed medical care, and I knew you best.”
“Or thought you did—”
“Give me a break, Rose. Stop acting all misunderstood. Do you want me to treat you differently?”
“It’s easy for you to say.” I pushed the bowl away and fingered the tines of the fork. “If I kept telling you that you were some—some mass murderer from another dimension, you might get up in arms too.”
“Well, let’s say for a moment it’s true,” Thurmond said. I opened my mouth to protest. He held up a hand. “That’s not who you are now, is it?”
I folded my arms across my chest and examined the table. Of course that wasn’t who I was. I nodded slowly, and then shook my head.
There’s just that little matter of those homicidal tendencies, Caz snickered. I clenched my eyes and rubbed my temple, wondering if driving the fork into my eye would shut her up.
“And I’ll finish signing those in twenty minutes, Angie.” I opened my eyes. Xavier backed up the steps. “No, make sure we’re ready for the shoot and I’ll talk to you after lunch. And Ang, send Dr. Tolman right in when he arrives.”
He slammed the door and turned to face us. “Being me can be so exhausting!”
I glared. Phony bleached grin. Phony tan. He didn’t take off his sunglasses and, compounded with the other things Thurmond told me about him, I was struck with a sudden suspicion. I watched him carefully as he made his way up the stairs, adjusted a picture on the wall, and peeked at his reflection in a mirrored cupboard. He pulled something out of his pocket, and with a rapid flick of his wrist he showed me exactly what I was watching for.
“You’re a Rethan!” I said.
Xavier’s hand gave a startled jerk. The accusation colored the air between us.
“Now hold on, Rose—” Thurmond started to say.
Xavier’s lips tightened, and he slowly removed his sunglasses. Silver, Rethan eyes, with barely a pinprick of pupil in the center. “As are you, Miss Rose.”
Thurmond slid away from me and stood as though an enemy had presented itself.
“You guys just keep popping up, don’t you?” I lounged back, my muscles tense.
“Why do you think I was so interested in your personal medical care?” Xavier’s tone took a sour edge. “I didn’t like the idea of being outed by you.”
“Or maybe we know each other from Retha.”
“Of course we don’t.” Xavier dropped his eyes.
“You’re lying,” I said.
“So you’re both Rethan. Who cares?” Thurmond held his hands up between us as though we might start brawling. It wasn’t far from my mind. “There’s got to be at least as many of you guys in Retha as there are in Earth. What are the chances you two actually know each other?”
“Because he’s lying.” He was so lying. I knew him from somewhere, and it wasn’t from another stupid movie.
“I think you should listen to your friend, Miss Rose.” Xavier lifted between two fingers what he’d pulled out of his pocket moments ago, giving me a clear view of a white business card. Half of it was stained brown, but the small black lettering on the one side was clearly visible.
“This was found in the pocket of your pants.” He set it on the edge of the table and stepped back to sprawl on the couch across from me. He crossed his legs and curled a lock of hair around his finger. “I thought maybe you could explain it.”
I picked it up. Mud had been wiped off the border, and a bloody fingerprint covered the words.
Dimensional Liaison Agency
Special Agent Jim Wichman
703-555-0236
My breath caught. Dimensional Liaison Agency would be DLA for short. The DLA? And Wichman was a part of it? A shadow crossed the card, and I didn’t have to look up to know Thurmond was reading it also.
“Do you want to tell me, Miss Rose, why you have a contact in the DLA?” Xavier’s voice was cool. “I was under the impression, thanks to Boderick, that you’ve only just been made aware of the fact you’re Rethan.”
“I don’t—I mean, I did—I mean . . .” I recalled the memory surfacing in the desert, the one about Dad going to the DLA when I was young. This little acronym was associated with abandonment in my book. I narrowed my eyes at Xavier. “You know what this Dimensional Liaison Agency is?”
“Every Rethan in Earth knows who they are.” He studied his fingernails, flicked something off his pants, and returned my look. “For those sentenced,” he gestured at me. I scowled. “They take care of the infant RAGE inmates and make sure they get into the foster care system. They also watch them throughout their lives, and eliminate them should they show signs of memory recall or violent tendencies. For those of us here under our own volition—the denigrated entrepreneurs—they are tasked to track us and make sure we do not cause any problems. They are a specialized dimensional police force for the Third Dimension. Human, and ruthlessly dedicated to protecting Earth.”
“Sergeant Wichman must’ve been undercover.” I tossed the card on the table and massaged my left temple. “He must’ve been watching the commander.”
“Why would he watch the commander?” Thurmond asked. His eyes hardened. I could tell he suspected what I already knew.
“She’s a Rethan. A renegade of some sort.” I rubbed the card with my thumb and forefinger.
“How do you know that?”
“Because she told me. She said she knew me from Retha. She also took my pendant. Said it was a key or something. Then I remember her saying something about being close to finding the Heart of—something or another—” A warm glowing orb and a bloody knife tugged at my memory.
A loud thump shattered the image. Xavier was on his feet. His face sagged.
“What?” he whispered.
I sat back and folded my arm
s. What was this mysterious Heart the commander was willing to kill over? And what did Xavier Coy know about it?
“You obviously heard me. The question is, what does that mean to you?” I slid out of my seat. My fingers tingled. I felt lightheaded.
“Nothing. Why would that mean anything to . . . don’t be ridiculous—”
“Don’t give me that!”
“When did you talk to the commander?” Thurmond asked. His arm brushed mine.
“Right before Sergeant Wichman left us for dead.”
“He did what?”
“Well, he said he was coming back.”
“So this Agent Wichman is not your friend?” Xavier cut in.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“He left us for dead, of course he’s not!” Thurmond slammed his fist on the table.
“He left the card. He had to have some motive for that,” Xavier argued.
“Everyone shut up for a minute!” I held up a hand. The lights flickered.
Thurmond and Xavier stopped talking. Xavier glanced around at the lights. Thurmond stared hard at me.
“Okay, now here are the facts. One: the commander is looking for something called the Heart, which Mr. Coy will be explaining to us in a minute. Two: Sergeant Wichman needs to be contacted to find out if he knows where the commander has taken Marshal Rannen; and three—”
“Rannen? Rannen’s gone? He was taken? Is he all right?” The tan leaked away from Xavier’s face. A dirty gray took its place.
“Okay, rewind. Mr. Coy will be explaining two things to us—what the Heart is and what he knows about Marshal Rannen.”
“I’m just concerned this commander might do something to a fellow Rethan, that’s all.” Xavier’s sputtering wouldn’t have convinced his most brain-dead fan.
“And the Heart?”
Xavier’s hands trembled, and he folded them together to hide it. “If I even thought that . . . if anyone were to find . . . no, there’s no way. No way. I don’t know anything about this.”
I opened my mouth to call the movie star a big, fat liar.
“Wait a second,” Thurmond interrupted. “Why the hell do you need to know all this, Rose?”
Do humans not understand loyalty?
I dug a knuckle into my aching temple. This had nothing to do with loyalty.
Call the DLA and ask them for Rannen’s file. Or your file. Don’t you want to know who you are?
Sure. Ask them for a bunch of files. The DLA didn’t even technically exist. And even if I did get some files, what would they tell me? Information about Rannen? Or what about the truth behind Dad’s involvement with Retha?
Is it about finding Rannen, or your father?
I rubbed my eyes. It took a moment before I realized Thurmond and Xavier were staring at me with contradicting expressions.
“I need to talk to Sergeant Wichman,” I said.
“Rose, you almost died. If you think I’m going to let you—” Thurmond took a step in my direction.
“Let me?” I jabbed my finger in Thurmond’s chest. It hurt to breathe.
I understood that my reaction was wrong, my attack on Thurmond one person off. I couldn’t rein in the anger. The lights hummed a blinding white. Bulbs exploded in a shower of sparks. Thurmond bumped against the counter behind him.
“Caz, that’s enough!” Xavier’s voice pushed against the rage.
The shrill, humorless laugh inside my head diminished to an echo across an expansive chasm.
My breathing was loud in my ears and I found I was kneeling, my eyes on the carpet. The cream-colored fibers looked like fluffy little soldiers standing in formation.
“Rose? Are you okay?”
“Of course she’s not okay. She’s insane.”
“She’s not insane. She was just given too much of that damn serum.” A shadow crossed my carpet soldiers. “Rose?”
Thurmond crouched beside me. His eyes were concerned but not angry.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t worry about it. Can you stand?”
A tiny flinch marred his face when he took my arm, but at least I didn’t electrocute him. I allowed him to pull me to my feet and lead me over to a couch, where I collapsed. I smoothed my hair with shaking fingers.
Xavier watched me with narrowed eyes. One hand hid his mouth. I looked between the two faces but stopped on Xavier.
“Mr. Coy, could I borrow your phone?”
“You planning to order pizza or something?” Thurmond’s mouth set in a hard line.
“No, I’m calling Sergeant Wichman.”
“Why?”
“To find the commander.” I’d held onto the secret about Dad so long, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Thurmond about it even now. But if I were really honest with myself, at this moment I wanted to find Rannen almost as much as Dad, even if I didn’t completely understand why.
“Rose, we’re in big enough trouble as it is. We’ve got to report this.”
“To who? Our chain of command? I don’t know if you noticed, but they tried to kill us.”
“The police, or the FBI, or something.”
“Sure. I’ll let you explain the dimensional angle.”
“Someone has to know about this!”
“Yeah. I was going to start with Special Agent Jim Wichman from the Dimensional Liaison Agency.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Thurmond threw up his hands. “He left us for dead!”
“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you get that?” My face flushed hot in my attempt not to yell. “The commander has Rannen and whatever information he has in his head!”
“He’s dead! Hoth shot him! I saw it!”
“He’s not dead!” I was on my feet again. Blood drained away from my head. Thurmond’s angry face became fuzzy and the argument unclear. “He’s not dead.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because it is! There’s something . . .” The reason was on the tip of my tongue, a maddening little motive that would convince Thurmond without a doubt if I could only spit it out.
“And when you find the commander you’ll, what, ask her to hand him over? Put her under citizen’s arrest?”
“She’s looking for that Heart thing.” That might convince Xavier, at least. I put as much pleading into my eyes as my words, pushing away a twinge of guilt. “T, remember what you told me back before we got to the portal? This is definitely one of those moments where we need all the information.”
“I can’t believe you even remember that,” Thurmond grumbled.
“There’s something going on here that goes beyond the commander getting her hands on that portal, or the key, or even Rannen. What if we’re the only ones who know about this? What if we’re the only ones who could stop her? I’ll follow this lead by myself if I have to.”
I could see Thurmond’s natural protective instincts fighting against my risky, illogical, and unreasonable option. He turned away, and for one solitary moment I thought I’d lost. When he faced me again he held Wichman’s business card.
“Any chance we can go about this with some common sense and a plan?”
Relief swept through me, no less poignant than if he’d promised to save my first born.
“Sure.”
He gave a tiny, resigned nod, which I returned. He turned to Xavier. The movie star placed his hands on top of his head, his face lost in bewilderment.
“Mr. Coy, can I borrow your phone?” Thurmond held out his hand.
Xavier’s eyes flitted to Thurmond and then back to me, but he didn’t reach for a phone.
“You know, I should probably call him,” I said, “He knows I was still alive when he left, but he was under the distinct impression you were dead, T. That may come in handy.”
“Or I could call him,” Xavier cut in. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “You know, use a little star power. I don’t know, I could offer him money or something.”
“I though
t you didn’t know who Marshal Rannen was?” Thurmond rubbed the edge of the card on his palm. “Why would you want to throw some money at a guy from the DLA to get information about him?”
“I—I just want to help.”
“Give me the phone,” I said.
“Dammit, Rose, would you just—” Thurmond turned on me.
“I’ll make the call,” said a squeaky voice from the door.
I hadn’t heard the door open, but Boderick was suddenly standing behind Xavier. His Rethan face looked so foreign in these modern, Earthly surroundings that I cringed. After all that had happened, my mind still didn’t want to accept what was right in front of my eyes. His tan slacks, red button-down shirt, and baseball cap only succeeded in making his silvery hair and skin look more peculiar.
An older, distinguished-looking gentleman stood behind him. Dr. Tolman, I assumed. The doctor pushed past Boderick and Xavier. Without a word he pressed his stethoscope to my chest, then flicked a penlight across my eyes. I resisted the urge to fend him off.
“I’ve had contact with Agent Wichman before,” Boderick continued. His shoulders hunched, and his hands opened and closed in an obsessive gesture. “He knows I’m no threat, and he’ll at least know who I am without having to risk the identities of you three.”
“That’s enough for today, gentlemen,” Dr. Tolman broke in. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and tapped my hand where the IV had left a scab. “Miss Rose needs some liquids. And rest.”
I wondered if Dr. Tolman was the type that could be bullied. His expression was relaxed, but as I opened my mouth to speak his eyebrows lifted, and his lips thinned.
“Bodie.” I turned to Boderick. “Make the call. Set up the meeting for as soon as possible.”
CHAPTER 25
I awoke with a scream, batting my hands through the air. I could feel the heat of the orb in my hand, the cool of the blade, the stickiness of the blood spattering my skin. I couldn’t see anything other than face upon bloody face filled with terror, anger, and hatred.