by Orton, D. L.
“Of course.” I walk back and then peek around the door, listening to the phone conversation.
“Yes, Mr. Kirkland. I understand completely. We can’t have her running off with things the way they are. I’m sure she’ll learn to like it here.”
He’s not going to let me go.
I hurry over to the bathroom, lock the door, and then shut it from the outside.
It might buy me a few minutes.
I go back to my eavesdropping.
“Of course,” the nurse says and laughs self-consciously. “We’ll see that she stays here until Dr. Zaius returns next month.” There’s a pause. “Yes, sir. I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”
“Like hell you will.” I sneak across the hallway, creep down the corridor, and duck into the elevator. I almost press the lobby button, but decide to look for a side exit instead. A minute later, I step out into the basement and follow the narrow hallway until I come to the employee coat room. I put on a civilian trench coat and a stocking cap—and then remember the hospital slippers on my feet.
Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.
I take the stairs up a floor and find myself in the crowded hospital lobby. “Damn.”
Out in front, Dave’s Tesla pulls up to the loading zone. He jumps out and waves to the armed guard by the revolving front door.
“Shit.” I tuck my hair up into the cap, pull it low onto my forehead, and start buttoning the coat. A group of women and children are walking toward the exit, and I hurry across the polished floor to join them. Just as Dave steps into the revolving door, I squeeze into the opposite side behind a large woman.
She glances down at my slippers, and then gives me a funny look.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m in a hurry to get home before the diarrhea starts.”
Her eyes get big, and she steps aside the moment we exit the turnstile.
“Thanks,” I say and size up the security guard.
He’s helping an elderly man get out of a minivan. I wait until he turns away, and then walk over to the Tesla and open the door. Dave’s cell phone is still seated in its cradle.
Good thing his head’s attached.
I get in and shut the door, my heart still racing. The car smells of cheap perfume and Chinese takeout, and there’s an unopened box of Godiva truffles on the passenger seat.
He wasn’t lying about living like royalty.
I type in Dave’s four-digit password, hoping that it hasn’t changed, and let out a sigh of relief when the screen changes to the Tesla app.
I lock the doors and start the car. The dashboard lights up, the number 214 in the center.
“Yes!”
I type in the cabin address, note that it’s 167 miles away, and press go.
A warning chime sounds, and for a moment I think it’s because the key is missing.
“Damn it.”
And then I notice the seatbelt light.
I put it on, slip the car into gear, and ease out of the loading zone. The Tesla is so quiet that the guard doesn’t even look up when I drive right behind him.
It takes three minutes to get to the main gate, and I spend the time trying to come up with something to tell the sentry. But when he sees the Tesla, he rushes out to open the gate, and I pass through without stopping, thankful for the tinted windows.
It’s cold outside, and the sky is spitting gray slushy flakes as I pull out onto the empty freeway. The heater takes power that I might need later, so I turn it off. But after a few minutes, I’m so cold that I can’t stop trembling. I crank up the thermostat and cross my fingers, hoping that the battery holds out long enough to get home. Dave’s phone rings, and I reach over and power it off.
Don’t want anyone tracking me with GPS.
Near the Air Force base, the roads are pretty good, but once I get closer to the city, there are abandoned cars and junk everywhere. The Tesla doesn’t have a lot of ground clearance, and I don’t want to accidentally run into something, so I force myself to keep the speed down.
As I’m driving through the city, I pass groups of people huddled around burning piles of rubbish. They look up at me, their eyes wide and their cheeks hollow, and then they go back to rubbing their hands and stamping their feet. All of the stores and gas stations I pass are burned or looted, their windows smashed and the parking lots littered with refuse.
Once the world runs out of trash to burn, things are going to get dicey.
After three hours of slow, tedious driving, I’m a little past halfway home.
The good news is I’m getting great mileage; the bad news is I have to pee so badly my eyeballs are floating. Just as I’m about to pull over, I come around a curve and see a roadblock in front of me. I slam on the brakes and come to a stop in front of a huge pile of old tires. Before I have a chance to think, men with knives and baseball bats come pouring over the barricade.
“Oh, shit.”
Someone slams a bat into the windshield, and I scream—and then watch the heavy metal club bounce off the glass.
Dave must have had the car armored.
I put the Tesla in reverse and press the accelerator to the floor. The speed is limited to 20 MPH, but the acceleration is awesome. Bodies slide off the car. I twist the steering wheel around and brake hard. The pavement is wet from the half-hearted snowing, and the car whips around. I throw it back into drive and get the hell out of there.
Next time I see Dave, I’ll have to be nicer.
I take a wide detour around the roadblock, and twenty minutes later, I get on the old highway and head west up into the mountains. Once I’m well into the canyon, I stop to relieve my bladder, my pulse racing the whole time, but I don’t see or hear anyone else.
When the sun is low in the sky, I turn onto the dirt road leading up to the cabin and accelerate past the fateful gate where I was attacked. The temperature has dropped, and the muddy road is frozen solid, covered by a thin layer of fresh snow. There’s still thirty-seven miles on the Tesla, and I let out a small whoop, grateful that Dave has good taste in cars and chocolates—and that tonight, I’ll sleep in Diego’s arms.
Part Two
The Magic Kingdom
I like a man who’s good,
But not too good.
The good die young,
And I hate a dead one.
Mae West
Chapter 18
Diego: I Wouldn’t Do That
Johnson tosses the notebook down on the conference room table and turns to leave. “Read it, Nadales. I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you into the secured area.”
“You can go fuck yourself. I’m not doing anything until I talk to a lawyer.”
Matt Hudson, a guy who used to live down the street from me, walks in. He smiles and offers me his hand. “Diego. It’s good to see you.”
“Matt? What are you doing here?” I shake his hand. “What am I doing here?” I glance around the room. “What the hell is going on?”
He smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that melodramatic abduction, mate. I tried to convince them to just tell you the truth and invite you to join us.” He scowls at the agent. “But that would have been too easy.”
“I’ll leave you two alone for a nice little chat,” Johnson says. “Be ready to take him in at oh-eight-hundred.”
“That will be okey-dokey.”
The government man shuts the door with a grunt.
“Arse. I think he actually enjoys kidnapping people.” Matt pulls out a chair and sits down. “You look like hell. What happened?”
“Let’s just say I had a rough night.” I pour myself a glass of water from a sweating pitcher in the middle of the table and collapse into the chair across from him. “Do you know anything about Isabel?”
“I was told they sent a helicopter up to your cabin last night
. Airlifted her to a military hospital.”
“Thank god.” I let out a relieved sigh. “What’s going on, Matt? Why am I here?”
“Sorry about the kidnapping, mate. I’m not sure who ordered you brought in, but I can guess why.” He fills me in on something he calls the Einstein Sphere. Turns out, it’s the huge tungsten ball they found in the hotel fire that almost killed Isabel.
That explains the Internet vanishing act.
“It was hollow,” he says, “and we had to crush it to get it open. Inside was a small electronic device that hasn’t been invented in our world.”
“Holy shit.”
“There’s more. It also contained plans for some weird kind of telescope that can see into other universes. And instructions to build a time machine.”
A little alarm goes off in my head.
With Einstein’s help, you’ll meet again.
I pick up the glass of water. “So why did they kidnap me?”
“Uh, I wouldn’t drink that, if I were you. Picasso—that’s the buck who runs the show even though Dick pretends to—says they used to put chemicals in the water here to keep people cooperative. God only knows what might still be in it.”
I slide the glass to the center of the table, leaving watery railroad tracks on the fake wood.
“As I was saying, you’re here because of the note.”
I give him a baffled look.
“It was also inside the sphere. Handwritten. Had your name on it.”
“Me? Why would someone put my name inside a metal sphere?”
He shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Can I see the note?”
“Yeah, sure—just don’t tell Dick I told you all this.” He grabs the notebook they keep telling me to read, flips through some pages, and slides it across the table. “There.”
I glance at the photo, and my heart stops.
He scans my face, his expression worried. “What is it?”
“That’s Isabel’s handwriting… but my middle name is Fernando, not Federico.”
Chapter 19
Isabel: It Rings True
Today is our wedding day. It’s been more than a month since I escaped from the Base hospital, and Dave’s Tesla sits hidden in the bushes at the bottom of the hill, the battery slowly losing power. After I escaped from the hospital, it took me most of the day to get home—and trudging up the last mile of snowy road in slippers was the worst part—but I made it.
To be honest, I don’t think Dave bothered to come after me. He already had what he wanted: my laptop and the encryption key for all my research. I expect he’ll eventually send someone to collect the car, but I don’t care as long as he leaves me alone.
I take the beautiful white dress out of my closet and slip it on, struggling with the long zipper in back and sobbing. Mrs. Malloy brought it to me the day after I got back, and then she spent a week altering it while she made sure I was strong enough to live alone. That woman is an angel.
I stare at my hollow-cheeked reflection in the mirror, and then run my hands over my breasts and stomach, missing the two little lives that used to be inside me. Lucky sits on the bed watching as I fix up my hair and put on earrings. I try to add a little make-up, but I can’t seem to stop crying long enough for my face to dry.
“At least I still have you, kitty girl.”
She lets out a squeaky meow and then follows me out into the crisp fall morning.
Now that the Malloys’ roof is done, they’ve left to find other family members, and I’m without any human company.
Still, I haven’t given up hope.
He said he’d come back, and I plan to be here when he does.
The hem of the dress catches on the scrub oak as I make my way to the two tiny graves, tears streaming down my face. Heavy snow clouds threaten over the mountains, but bright sunshine still falls across the two small piles of stones out by the point.
I sit down on a large rock overlooking the creek and talk to my children, telling them about their father and how he saved me from the fire, and then from a raging infection, and finally about how he will be back to marry me.
Don’t make me wait too long.
I have to keep clearing my throat and wiping my face on my sleeve until I finally run out of words and tears.
A cold wind blows up from the ravine, lifting dead leaves into the air and tossing them about. Lucky chases one for a bit and then jumps back up in my lap.
I stroke her soft fur and suppress a shiver. “Winter is coming.”
She rubs her face against my hand.
“Thanks, kitty girl. I love you too.” I stand up, still holding Lucky, and study the forest spread out below me, the plains visible in the distance. I scan the trees and rocks, the ridges and canyons, the shadows and light for any signs of life—just as I do every day.
He always finds me.
Kitty girl jumps down and trots back toward the cabin, meowing about the chilly breeze.
He’ll be back.
I close my eyes and shout out, “I know he’ll be back!” letting the whole damn universe know that I’m not giving up.
“Too bad he’s not here right now.” The gravelly voice comes from behind me.
I whirl around, accidentally treading on the dress and nearly falling over. The gaunt face of a man I’ve never seen before leers at me. A couple of his teeth are missing and his skin is covered with grime.
I take a step back, but I’m perilously close to the edge of the ravine already.
“Nice dress.” He’s no taller than I am, his clothes torn and dirty. “Unfortunately, I’m not the marrying type. But I’d be happy to do the honors anyways.” He runs his gaze down my body. “Take it off.”
“What?”
“You deaf or something? I said take the dress off, bitch.” He pulls a thin rope out of his pocket. “Lover boy ain’t gonna save you this time.”
Oh my god, he’s the guy who stuck the knife in my thigh!
I pick up my skirt and lunge toward the cabin, but he’s quicker than I am, and he cuts me off after only a few strides.
“You fight, and it’ll just go the worse for you.” He takes a step toward me. “So I suggest you let me have what I came for.”
I back away, shaking my head, and then turn and bolt in the opposite direction.
But I’m still weak and the dress is unwieldy. I trip on it and fall hard onto the cold ground.
As I’m struggling to get up, he grabs me around the waist and lifts me up. “I was thinking it would be more comfortable in that cute little cabin of yours, but I ain’t gonna be too picky given how you’ve gone and gotten all gussied up.”
I scream and try to get away, but he throws me face-down onto the ground and shoves his knee between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest and face into the dirt. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll kill you first and fuck you afterwards.” He forces my hands behind my back and ties them together, the thin rope slicing into my wrists.
He lifts my hands and wrenches down the zipper on my dress. “Sweet Jesus, if you’re not a sight for sore eyes.” He pushes me over, my arms wedged painfully beneath my back, and straddles my torso. “Now that’s better.”
I spit into his face. He grabs onto the shoulder of the dress and laughs. “I like a woman with a little fight in her.” I turn my head and bite his wrist as hard as I can.
“Shit!” He jerks his hand away. “You bitch.” He slaps me hard across the face. “You do something like that again, and I will kill you.” He takes a knife out and presses it against my throat.
I pull away, my cheek burning and the taste of blood in my mouth.
He forces my dress up, and I let out a cry. “Shut your mouth, or I’ll gag you.” He leans back and looks at my bare thighs, one corner of his mouth curling up. “So it is you! I gave you
that pretty little scar.” The smile disappears. “Right before that stupid boyfriend of yours tried to kill me.”
I shut my eyes, my hands and arms already numb, and try to force down the panic enough to think.
He takes the knife away from my throat, and I hear him undoing his pants. “I been hankerin’ to do you for a while now.” He grabs the bodice of my dress. “Look at me! I wanna see the fear in your pretty green eyes.” He yanks the fabric away from my chest and jabs the knife into it. “You be sure to tell him that I left him my callin’ card, won’t you?” He jerks the knife up toward my neck, cutting through the dress and exposing my breasts.
I scream and try to kick him off, but he’s ready for me. He pins my throat with one hand, squeezing so hard I can’t breathe. I stop struggling, and he lifts the knife over me, his lips pulled back from his teeth. “You’re mine, bitch.”
A mass of black and white leaps out of the shadows and closes its teeth around the man’s wrist. The animal’s momentum knocks the bastard off me, and I roll away. The guy gets up, yelling obscenities, his pants around his knees and the knife still in his hand, but the dog refuses to let go of his wrist. The animal snarls and jerks the man’s arm around, trying to get him to drop the weapon.
The enraged man whips the dog around, dirt and spit flying everywhere. “Let go of me, you rabid mongrel!”
I struggle to get up, but with my hands tied behind me and the dress dangling off my shoulders, I keep stepping on the heavy fabric and falling. Finally, I manage to put my foot on the hem and wrench my body away, tearing off the bottom panel. I stagger to my feet and take a quick look at the mutt who saved my life, and then I stumble toward the cabin.
The sound of the man and dog fighting pushes up panic in my throat as I struggle to open the front door. Lucky comes racing up, meowing to get inside, but my hands are so numb I can barely feel the cold metal handle, and I can’t see what I’m doing. When I eventually manage to get the door open, we rush though, and then I force it shut with my shoulder. I can’t reach the dead bolt with my hands tied, so I use my teeth to turn the lock, and then collapse against the heavy wooden door and sob.