by Jana Janeway
Shea hummed in acceptance, finishing up their conversation just as Elsa announced, “Majority says the plan is a go.”
“That’s just perfect,” Quinn groused, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “You won’t mind if I just take off then, before you do this.”
He clearly wasn’t looking for permission.
“No one is required to stay.” Elsa’s attention swept the room. “Is there anyone else who would like to leave while this is going on?”
Only one other person raised her hand. “It’s just… I have kids,” she said, almost apologetically.
“What if I just go to a different location?”
Elsa turned, facing him; her eyes shone with gratitude. “That’s very nice of you, Carl. You wouldn’t mind?”
Carl shook his head. “I’ll take care of everything, then text you when I’m in.”
“Where will you go?” Kiffen asked.
“The Public Library. If they trace me, a public location gives me a better shot at ditching them.”
“Thanks, Carl.” Now, Quinn sounded more guilty than irritated, but then he stormed out of the kitchen.
As Elsa and Carl discussed exactly what should be said when they contacted the Registry, Marcy made her way over to Craddock.
“Did you come in here for a reason?”
He hadn’t forgotten, but with everything he had walked in on, his purpose for being there took a temporary aside. “I was just looking to get Jess some of those foods we talked about.”
“Still being purchased. I’ll come get you when they’re here.”
It felt as if he was being dismissed, but still he lingered, his eyes catching on his brother-in-law as he and Stacy hovered near Elsa and Carl. “Has Shea been behaving?”
“Yeah, actually. Did Jess talk to him or something?”
Craddock shook his head. “I did.”
“Well done,” she praised, patting him on the back. “Go back in with Jess. Let her know the plan is a go. We’ll keep you updated.”
He was definitely being dismissed. After thanking her, he stepped out of the kitchen as inconspicuously as he could. He had been planning to head straight back to the bedroom, but when he detected a hint of cigarette smoke, he decided to follow the scent instead. It led him to and out the front door.
There was Quinn, sitting cross-legged on the concrete path, rapidly hitting a cigarette while he clutched the pack it had obviously come from.
“You okay?” Craddock asked him.
Quinn startled and turned. Seeing Craddock, he sighed and faced away from him again. “Fine.”
Deciding he must not want the company, Craddock started to leave, but then Quinn said something that stopped him.
“It’s not that I don’t think they’re worth rescuing. I’ve just seen firsthand what these people are like, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of their cruelty again.”
“Understood.” Craddock moved to join him. “She’s my wife, ya’know? I would do anything to make her happy.”
Quinn flicked his cigarette, discarding it. “I lost my wife.”
He almost sounded indifferent, if not for the underlying hurt in his tone.
“I’m sorry.” His sympathy was met with a nod. “Want to talk about it?”
The long pause that followed told Craddock he didn’t, but then Quinn surprised him.
“She disappeared after challenging Registry practices one too many times. I tried for years to find her – to find out what happened – but I was blocked at every turn. A few months ago, when I joined Pardaze Ahme, they pulled together to help me find out the truth.”
“And… did they?” Craddock asked cautiously. Obviously, even if they did uncover what had happened, the news wasn’t good.
Nodding, Quinn whispered, “She died.”
Craddock choked down the lump caused by the unsettling words. “Did… did the Registry kill her?”
“Not intentionally. At least so they say,” he added. He exhaled sharply as he pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it. “They were punishing her by denying her food. They waited too long.”
Craddock’s heartbeat picked up pace, though he tried to calm it down when he realized it had. Jessica couldn’t read him, but she could sense him.
“Why were they punishing her?” he asked. It took every bit of willpower he could muster not to ask for a smoke.
“The only report we could find stated that she had attacked a Registry agent. But if you’d known my wife, you would know how unlikely that is. She couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Nodding, Craddock then asked, “What was her name?”
“Debra. Deb, to her friends.”
“Hey, Doc, give me a hand, eh?”
Craddock had been so engrossed in the conversation that he hadn’t seen or heard Jeramey drive up and park. He was now out of the car, waving Craddock over.
After apologizing to Quinn, he asked as he approached Jeramey, “What do you need help with?”
“I bought out the damn store!” Jeramey called back, laughing. “Marcy was vague, so I bought just about one of everything!”
Realizing then that Jeramey needed help with Jessica’s groceries, Craddock began jogging towards the car. His conversation with Quinn wasn’t forgotten, though.
Helping carry the bags into the kitchen, after setting them down on the table, he pulled Carl aside as he was preparing to leave.
“Hey Carl, you know Quinn, right? And what happened to his wife, Debra?”
Something indecipherable flashed in Carl’s eyes. “Yeah?”
“I was just wondering,” Craddock lowered his voice, not wanting his request to be overheard, “while you’re inside the Registry’s computer, is there any way you could do the research to find out what happened to her?”
Carl went back to his task of gathering his things. “We know what happened to her.”
“Yeah, but I guess the report was vague?”
“Only as far as Quinn knows,” Carl said, his attention still diverted.
Craddock scowled. “Meaning what?”
“You ought not to be messing with things that have already been laid to rest.”
Carl, a bit testily, slung the laptop bag’s strap over his shoulder and walked away, leaving Craddock to just watch as he did so with a furrowed brow. Seconds later, Marcy was standing beside him.
“You won’t get answers from him.” She gestured that he should follow her. Once outside in the large backyard, she asked, “You want to know the story? Even if it’s disturbing?”
Chapter Seventeen
A shiver ran down Craddock’s spine. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the story or not, especially if it was disturbing, but he was invested now. Hesitantly, he nodded in response to Marcy’s question.
Noting his unease, Marcy worded things carefully. “She was… attacked… by one of the guards assigned to her. A male guard.”
The inflection she used with the expression she wore brought the full picture into focus. Craddock dropped his head and sighed. “It was kept from him to protect him?”
Marcy nodded. “There was no point in telling him that. It only would have made his grief that much harder to overcome.”
“I think he knows there’s more to the story.”
“I know, but we feel it’s best not to confirm his suspicions.”
Suddenly, a thought came to mind; she seemed close to the situation, like maybe she was involved on some level. Not with the attack on Debra, Quinn’s wife, but maybe in learning her fate.
He had been curious since they first arrived at the house and had seen them, but with all that kept happening, he never found the right opportunity to ask. This seemed as good an opening as any.
“Is that why you joined Pardaze Ahme?”
“No. We didn’t meet Quinn until after we had joined.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he asked, “So then why did you join? I mean, did something happen?”
She sighed, her gaze f
alling to the floor. “Why don’t you go back in with Jessica now, okay?” Based on her response, it seemed as if he had overstepped, but then she added, “We’ll get into that at a later time. When we can sit down and have a proper conversation.”
****
Jessica could feel Craddock’s unbalanced emotions, skipping from perplexed to relieved, sad to angry, worried to frustrated. Wanting to know why, their connection weak since he wasn’t in the room with her, she slid out of bed and hobbled down the hall. He didn’t seem to be aware of her closing the distance, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, but when a misplaced step caused her pain, he was right there with her.
“Jessica,” he whispered. He sounded anguished, which caused Marcy to arch an eyebrow inquisitively, and with concern.
“What about her?” she asked.
“She’s out of bed again.” He sighed, bordering on exasperated; Marcy followed him as he headed for and into the kitchen. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’
‘Trying to find you! You’ve been gone a while, and your emotions were all over the place. What’s going on?’
Jessica came into view as soon as Craddock pushed open the swinging door that led to the living room. He rushed to her side to help her, Marcy right beside him. ‘They have a plan, and we needed to take a vote.’
As Marcy and Craddock assisted her into the kitchen, Jessica asked, “They didn’t want my vote?”
“We knew what your vote would be, but trust me, it wasn’t needed. Majority agreed to go ahead with it.”
Tears welled instantly, but then her gaze landed on Shea and she lost it. Startled, he hurried towards her; Marcy stepped aside, letting him and Craddock get Jessica seated in a chair at the table.
“He’s on his way right now to implement the plan,” Shea told her, knowing that was why she was suddenly, and again, so emotional.
“Who?” she asked. “What’s the plan?”
“His name is Carl,” Shea answered, “and he’s some kind of computer genius-slash-hacker.”
Craddock knelt down next to her. ‘It sounds like a solid plan, baby. He’s going to hold their system hostage until they release your parents.’
“What happens then?” she asked tearfully. “If they release them?”
“They’ll release them,” Shea asserted.
“And when they do,” Elsa’s assuredness matched Shea’s, “we’ll go pick them up at the predetermined location.”
“Heavily armed,” Jeramey added, as he continued the task assigned to him; he was standing at the sink, washing a colander full of various fruits and vegetables.
‘Jessica, no, you’re not going.’
The thought had entered her mind so abruptly, Jessica was almost as shocked by it as Craddock was.
‘My parents won’t know what’s going on! They’ll be scared!’
Craddock stood from his crouched position and stared down at her, sternly. “I said you’re not going! You’re injured! You have Junior to think about!”
“Craddock’s right, Jess. You’re not going.” Before his sister could launch into an argument, Shea held up his hand to stop her. “I am.”
“Says who?”
Though Jeramey seemed more surprised than angry, Shea’s defenses went up. “I elected myself. They won’t know who you guys are. Seeing a familiar face will make the whole thing that much easier.”
“Or the reunion scene will cause chaos, which could give the Registry the upper hand.”
“You both have valid points,” Elsa said, trying to prevent the calm exchange from escalating, but Shea ignored her and continued.
“Plus, you don’t know what they look like. What if they try to pass off… I don’t know, decoys?”
“Undercover Registry agents.”
Marcy’s comment corroborated Shea’s argument, and so he pointed at her for emphasis.
“Don’t you guys have pictures of them or something?” With his task at the sink complete, Jeramey turned off the water and wiped his hands on his shirt, joining the others at the table.
“We did.” Shea forced himself not to look in Wade’s direction. “But the last of the few I owned were tossed when we were rescued.”
“Visual confirmation of who we’re transporting would be a good thing,” Wade agreed, not out of guilt, but because he knew the scenario Shea had suggested was possible. The Registry was prone to duplicity.
“What about a note?” Jeramey asked. “We could have Jessica write a note, and then hand it to them to keep them calm.”
Marcy sighed. “That doesn’t solve the visual confirmation problem.”
“I know what they look like.”
Shea shot down Stacy’s meek, implied offer as soon as it was made. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”
“I could wait in the car,” she told him, almost defensively, “and there won’t be a chaotic reunion scene because they don’t really know me all that well.”
“It’s good of you to offer,” Marcy said, “but think long and hard about this. Shea is right. There is an element of danger. The Registry has become unpredictable. We can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I’ve got it!” Kiffen announced suddenly. “Picture mail by text message! Have someone take a pic of the Mitchells and send it through to us! Jessica and Shea can then confirm!”
When Stacy seemed disappointed, Shea gathered her into his arms. “It’s safer this way, honey,” he whispered.
“I’ve just felt so useless through all of this,” she whispered back. “I only wanted to help.”
Shea responded, but Craddock did his best to tune them out, to give them their privacy. “Plus the note thing,” he added to what Kiffen had said, turning towards Jessica. “Would they know your handwriting if they saw it?”
She nodded, attempting to minimize her extreme emotions by taking in a series of deep breaths. It actually looked like it was going to happen; after a year of not seeing them, or even talking to them – after a year of believing they were dead – she was going to see her parents again. If it all went well.
‘It will, baby. Just keep thinking positively.’
“The note should be short and to the point.” Elsa slid a pad of paper and pen over to her.
Taking them, Jessica gave thought to what she would say. There were a million things she wanted to tell them, but that would hardly make the note short and to the point.
‘What about: Mom, Dad, this is Jessica. These people are our friends. Don’t be scared.’
Jessica, agreeing, put pen to paper and started writing. As she did, Elsa’s cell phone started ringing.
“It’s a text from Carl.” Clicking ‘view’, she read it out loud. “‘I’m here. As soon as I get set up, I’ll get started. Will check in soon.’”
Nobody knew what to say. Nothing seemed appropriate, really. What was happening was too important for idle chitchat.
But finally, after several moments of awkward silence, Marcy headed for the sink. “While we’re waiting, let’s get Jessica situated with a plate of food.”
Jeramey followed her, as did Stacy.
‘I don’t know if I can eat right now. I’m too nervous.’
‘Try. Just what you can, okay?’
“What the hell is this?”
Jessica and Craddock both looked up, just as Marcy was pulling a large flat item from the colander.
“I don’t know!” Jeramey gave a wide, defensive shrug of his shoulders. “You said ‘think green’! It’s green!”
“It’s a cactus pad,” Jessica informed them.
“Gross!” The look of disgust on Jeramey’s face was almost comical. “Humans eat cacti?”
“You didn’t look at names of things before you bought them?” Marcy snapped at him, annoyed.
“I figured she would know what they were!” he snapped back. “You said to hurry!”
“And yet you still took forever.” She was mostly teasing him, but there was a hint of exasperation remaining in her tone.
Jeramey scoffed. “Do you have any idea how much green crap there is in the produce section of a supermarket?”
“I worked in a restaurant for how many years, Jeramey?” Marcy didn’t wait for an answer. “I know very well how much green crap is in a supermarket’s produce section!”
“There’s no need to fight about it,” Elsa soothed, hoping to defuse the argument.
Both Jeramey and Marcy raised an eyebrow, in unison. “We’re not fighting,” he told her.
“We’re just bantering,” Marcy added.
‘I don’t want to eat cactus.’
‘You don’t have to. I wouldn’t want to.’
‘What I’m really craving is strawberries.’
“Strawberries?” Craddock asked out loud, scowling.
Marcy turned abruptly. “Strawberries? What about them?”
“I’m craving them,” Jessica said, cringing at how everyone was now staring at her. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Pregnant Mengliad women don’t usually have cravings,” Marcy answered.
“So then what does that mean?” Craddock asked worriedly.
“Especially with what she’s craving, it means that she’s probably carrying a Human child.”
The tension in the room elevated.
‘You said it was an easy fix. It’s not, is it?’
‘They said it was!’ “I thought you said it was an easy fix! I thought that’s what all the veggies and vitamins were for!”
“Easy, Craddock.” Shea approached, putting his arm around him. “If the baby is Human, we can just do the BTR, right?”
“Yes,” Marcy turned to locate the strawberries within the colander, “but it would have been far simpler if the baby was Mengliad. She’ll need close monitoring, and I just don’t think I’m qualified.”
“Then we need to get someone who is,” Shea stated firmly. “That’s my nephew in there!”
‘Why is everyone so sure the baby is a boy?’
“And how do you suppose we do that?” With the slight edge to his tone, it was obvious that Jeramey was holding a grudge from their previous fights. “We’d have to find a baby doctor who’s Mengliad, who isn’t a Purist, who isn’t Registry approved, and who would be willing to make house calls! Because even if he is all those other things, it isn’t safe for Jessica to be out and about in public!”