The Future Scrolls

by Fern Michaels

  “Yes, Miss Arnold, some time ago, though. She said she had to go to the bakery when she left here. She bought a box of rice and two pieces of bubblegum. Seventeen cents in change. I was surprised she didn’t spend the other two cents. Is something wrong?”

  “She hasn’t come back,” Dani said, a worried frown on her face.

  “She probably met a friend of hers and stopped to play. Kids lose all track of time. I know; I have a few of my own. There’s always one missing,” he offered kindly. Dani thanked him and jogged the short distance to her apartment. She rang the Myerses’ bell but there was no answer. A dog barked behind the door.

  “Did she come back, Joe?” Dani asked the worried-looking doorman.

  “No.” Anxiously, he scanned the almost deserted street. It did seem odd. The neighborhood had very few children and the little girl hadn’t been around long enough to make any friends on the street.

  Dejectedly, Dani rode the elevator to her floor. She couldn’t have gotten lost. The child had gone with her many times to the market. It just wasn’t like Maria to stay out this long. Should I call her father? What will he say? That I was lax in my duties and should have watched her more carefully? She could almost see the anger suffuse his face. Justifiably so.

  Back in the small kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee, her eyes on the shining wall phone. She alternated between the clock and the phone. Two hours had gone by and she had consumed six cups of coffee.

  Where was the child? How could I have been stupid enough to let her go alone? What if some sex pervert had grabbed her? What if she had been kidnapped, by the men in the beat-up Mustang? Dani’s stomach lurched at the horrible thought. What if some car had run over her and she had been taken to the hospital? She rejected the idea. Joe would have heard the siren and commented on it. He himself had looked worried.

  Perhaps, though, her father had come by, seen her and picked her up. Perhaps there was nothing for her to worry about. That’s it, she thought happily; he just picked her up and took her to the park or something. And not tell you? a niggling voice questioned. He didn’t appear to be that kind of man. Even Maria had more sense, and she would have called by now.

  Dani set the mug down on the table with a thump and reached for the receiver. She dialed the number Alexander Mendeneres had given her and heaved a sigh of relief when he answered.

  “This is Danielle Arnold, Mr. Mendeneres,” she all but stammered. “I don’t know how to tell you this—”

  “Tell me what?” the cold voice interrupted abruptly.

  “Maria is missing.” Dani forced herself to be calm. She told him what had happened and waited for his outburst. When it didn’t come, she was shocked—almost speechless. In fact, he didn’t seem worried at all. They must make fathers different in Argentina, she thought.

  “What shall I do, Mr. Mendeneres?”

  “Wait. All you can do is wait, Miss Arnold. I am not blaming you.” His words were kind. “I am sure that she is well. In fact, I can almost guarantee it. If you hear anything, please call me and let me know. And vice versa, of course.” The connection was broken abruptly. Dani sat on the yellow chair and looked at the receiver in her hand. Had she heard correctly? She shook her head to clear it. She went over in her mind the words the man had spoken. Again, she shook her head. She looked at the receiver as though it were a snake. Quickly, she replaced it and looked at her hands. She had to wash them. I must be nuts, she thought to herself. Or else he’s nuts. Or, we’re both nuts. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with me,” she said aloud, determined, “so that leaves him.” Then why do you want to wash your hands? she asked herself anxiously.

  “Just shut up, subconscious. I don’t need any help from you today,” Dani muttered. She had to do something. What? She supposed she could clean the kitchen again; she could feed Bismarck.

  These tasks completed, she made herself another cup of coffee. She sat with her hands clasped. The coffee grew cold and still she sat. The clock chimed five times when the phone shrilled. Dani looked at the innocent-looking box on the kitchen wall and hesitated. Slowly, she reached for the receiver and brought it to her ear, her heart thumping madly.

  “Miss Arnold?” an oily, unctuous voice asked.

  “Yes, speaking.”

  The preliminaries over, the voice continued, “I have something a friend of yours wants. Convey the message to him for me.”

  “Are you speaking of Maria?” Dani asked. She knew he was; she just had to be sure and hear the words. She had to know the child was alive and well.

  “You bet, sweetie,” the slick voice continued. “Listen to me because I won’t repeat it a second time. Tell Alex to call this number at exactly eight o’clock. The number is 555-8676. You got that? You could trace the number if you have a mind to, but then that big-mouth kid gets it in the neck.”

  Dani waited, saying nothing.

  “Right now the kid is OK. I only guarantee to keep her that way till eight o’clock. After that, her health depends on that old man of hers.” The voice was now virulent.

  “I . . . I’ll try to reach Mr. Mendeneres. Who shall I say called?” she asked inanely.

  “He’ll know,” the voice answered. “Eight o’clock.” The line was dead. For the second time, Dani looked at the receiver. It seemed almost obscene. Wearily, she sat back on the iron chair. Her mind whirled and she felt dizzy. This couldn’t be happening to her. She must be dreaming and this was one of the plots that came across her desk every day. She had carried it home with her and now she was dreaming about it. She gave herself a pinch on the fleshy part of her arm. Tears stung her eyes. She was awake, and this was no dream.

  She carefully dialed the Mendeneres number and waited—five, six—“Yes,” came the cautious answer.

  “It’s Danielle Arnold.” Quickly, she gave the message and waited.

  “Thank you, Miss Arnold. I shall take care of the matter. You’ll hear from me.” Once more the line gave off its pinging dial tone.

  “Damn it,” Dani shouted to the empty kitchen. Bismarck, unused to such a sharp tone, scuttled under the table and looked at her with reproachful eyes. “If he doesn’t care, why should I?”

  Because this is all your fault. You’re human, not to mention civilized, the niggling voice answered her. He’s a robot. Robots have no feelings. I just have to wait. I have to occupy my mind. Keep busy, that’s the answer.

  Opening the refrigerator, she peered inside at the leftover food. Next, she removed the trash. She then cleaned the bathroom mirror. When she looked at the kitchen clock, she was dumbfounded to see that only fifteen minutes had gone by. Next, she called her office. No answer. Naturally, it was Sunday. What in the world had she been thinking of? She then tried Helen’s number. The phone rang eight times before the answering machine clicked on. The lovely Helen was no doubt having brunch with the Western writer, Stacy. “I guess I can change the bed linen,” she muttered. Within minutes, the snug printed sheets were anchored firmly into place. Looking out the window, she noticed there still wasn’t any Mustang. Sitting down on the flowered chair, she watched the minute hand of the small bedside clock make its tedious circle. Idly, she picked up a cigarette and laid it back down. I smoke too much anyway, she thought as she nibbled on her fingers instead, continuing to watch the small clock. The phone shrilled. Dani jumped off the chair.

  “Hello,” she said cautiously, convinced it would be the oily, deadly voice.

  “Dani, it’s me—Maria.”

  “Maria?” Dani exclaimed. “Where are you? Are you all right?” What was the child babbling? Something about rice.

  “Take down this number.”

  “Maria,” she shouted, but the child continued.

  “One minute. I only have one minute.” The phone was once more dead.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Dani wailed. If she had been kidnapped, why was she calling on her own? And then all that talk about a box of rice. She sighed, looking at the number she had copied down. I mu
st be losing my mind, she thought pitifully.

  Dani lit a cigarette, all the while contemplating the number she had scrawled on the small note pad. Carefully, she dialed the number and waited. Seven, eight, nine, ten . . . Suddenly, she slammed the phone back on the cradle. Her head reeled. Perhaps the child had managed to get to a phone and call when no one was watching her. Thank God she had hung up before someone answered and found out what the child had done.

  She would have to call Maria’s father and give him the number and let him handle it. She dialed his hotel and waited—thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. No answer. “Oh, hell,” she muttered, crushing out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray.

  “Did I do all right, Mr. Lou?”

  “Yeah, kid, I guess so, but you shouldn’t have given her my phone number. Eugene will have a fit. Come on, now; I have to tie you up before he gets here.”

  Maria looked properly crestfallen at this declaration. Her eyes were overly bright as the squat black phone shrilled.

  “Don’t answer that,” Lou warned.

  Maria nodded

  “I hate to do this, kid. Honest.” Maria looked at him understandingly.

  “I’ll lay you here on the couch and you can watch some television.”

  Maria lay quietly watching first one cartoon and then another. She didn’t have the heart to tell Lou she preferred a more sophisticated program. Lou was laughing uproariously at the antics of the Flintstones when Eugene burst into the room. Seeing her bound and inert on the couch, he relaxed and smiled at Lou.

  “I see the situation is under control. You had me scared for a minute, Lou. Come over here— I want to talk to you.” Lou untangled his lanky frame from the crooked rocking chair and ambled over to where Eugene was standing.

  “Yeah.”

  “I got it all set up. I called the girl and she promised to have the kid’s old man call me tonight. I gave her the number from the booth on the corner. Any tricks and the kid gets it.”

  “Gets what?” Lou asked fearfully.

  “Never mind.”

  “How long are you going to keep her here, Eugene? I don’t like it. She seems like a good kid. We had a lot of fun this afternoon.”

  “I’ll just bet you did,” Eugene said disgustedly. “To answer your question, it all depends on her old man. If he comes across, then she can go tomorrow. If not, she stays.”

  “You never did tell me what you want from him. You never told me anything about this caper except that I would make a lot of money and it wasn’t exactly illegal. I don’t like the whole thing. It smells.” Lou stuck out his jaw belligerently to make his point.

  “What’s with you? All of a sudden, this kid is getting to you. You weren’t worried before. So what happened that you haven’t told me? Come on, out with it.”

  “I just don’t like it,” Lou hedged. “She’s a nice little kid. I like her,” he added defensively.

  “All right, so you like her. Great. She’s a smart little brat; I’ll give her that. You just let me handle this and keep your mouth shut.”

  Eugene walked over to the bedraggled-looking couch and looked down at the child. “Hey, kid, look at me!” Maria looked up into cold gray eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered politely.

  “I spoke to the woman who’s been keeping you. She seemed worried about you.” Maria lay still and said nothing. “I told her to have your old man call me this evening. You know your old man better than I do. Will he come through?”

  “My father cannot be forced into anything,” Maria said quietly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eugene asked coldly.

  “It means,” Maria said slowly and clearly, “my father will pay you nothing for my release. He has principles.” The words were full of pride. “Just about as many as your dear mama,” Eugene said snidely.

  “My papa is not like my mama,” Maria shouted.

  “Aha! I hit a nerve. That’s some mother you have, kid. Even though she is my sister, she’s a lulu. She’d sell you down the river for a lipstick. How come she hates you so much—her own kid?”

  The harsh words stung Maria to the quick. She knew her mother hated her, but to have this repulsive stranger say it aloud made her want to cry. Her lower lip trembled as she lay mute.

  “I thought that mothers were supposed to tie ribbons in their daughters’ hair and buy them pretty dresses, and take them to dancing school. What did you do that was so terrible to make her hate you? She won’t even talk about it to me, her brother. And your old man, wow! She’d as soon stick a knife between his ribs as look at him. You sure come from a dizzy family. Come on, what did you do to her?”

  Maria clenched her teeth fiercely to stop them from trembling. She gulped and answered calmly. “It is a question of my birth, I was born a girl instead of a boy. All the Mendeneres women have a son. It is important that the firstborn is a boy. As you can see, I am a girl.”

  Eugene didn’t know what he expected by way of an answer, but this wasn’t it. He laughed cruelly. At the sound of the harsh laughter, two things happened simultaneously: Maria swung her legs from the daybed and jabbed them into Eugene’s midriff; the room darkened and a wind so strong and so fierce that the child gasped, swept through the room, forcing Lou against the wall. Eugene brought up his hands to protect his face from the invisible force that was driving him against the wall next to Lou.

  “It’s the monk,” Maria screamed. “It’s the Mendeneres Monk and he’s here to protect me,” she continued to scream, making sure she could be heard over the keening sound of the wind in the room. Objects were flying about and crashing into the walls. Lou stood cowering in the corner as Eugene cursed loudly.

  Suddenly, Eugene was moving across the room at a dangerous rate of speed. Maria, directly in his path, swerved to get out of his way. Eugene, his eyes dilated in fear, reached out to grasp Maria’s arm to pull her to him. “I don’t know what the hell is going on but whatever it is, you better stop it and now, or I’ll snap your neck,” he shouted. “Now!”

  “I told you, it’s the Mendeneres Monk,” Maria laughed, enjoying the tumultuous chaos in the room. “Do not hurt me. If you do, he will surely wreak his vengeance on you.”

  “Whatever it is, call it off,” Eugene yelled as he brought up his free hand and slapped her on the side of the head. “Call it off,” he screeched, his voice a high thin falsetto.

  Maria blinked. “Very well, but do not touch me again. Put me down. Immediately.”

  “Brother Gian, it is Maria. I truly appreciate your intervention, but I think I can handle matters now. You see,” she said complacently, “they do things differently here in the United States. I’m not sure anyone would understand our relationship.” She paused for a few moments and then continued impishly, “However, I would appreciate it if you don’t go too far away.”

  Within minutes, the room was filled with sunlight and the air was once more quiet and still.

  Lou was the first to recover. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Lou yelled as he tried to twist Eugene’s arm backward. Eugene, now nervous and confused, brought up his arm and knocked Lou to the ground with one blow. With a booted foot, Eugene kicked him in the ribs. Maria watched gleefully as the two men glared at each other.

  “Both of you listen to me,” Eugene yelled, hate emanating from his eyes. Maria looked at him through misty eyes. For the first time since entering the room, she was afraid. Afraid, not only for herself, but for Lou, too.

  “I have to go see your mother, kid. When I get back I better not see any wind and Lou here smashed to pieces. You better be on that daybed just like you are now. Understand?”

  Maria nodded. “And you, Lou. Look at me!” Lou raised pain-filled eyes and stared at Eugene. “If that kid isn’t in the same position when I get back, I’ll kill you. Do you understand? And no crazy wind and dark room will stop me. I’ve come too far to back down now. Oh, and kid, any funny tricks and that pretty lady gets it, too. Comprende?” Maria nodded again.


  “OK. I’m going home to the apartment. I have some talking to do with your dear mama, about your dear papa. Then I have to come all the way back here to wait for your papa to call. After that, I’ll be back here to check on you.” Eugene laughed shrilly as he slammed the door.

  Silence washed over the dingy studio apartment, the television droning on in the background. Finally, Maria asked fearfully, “Are you all right, Mr. Lou?”

  “I’m OK, kid. Did he hurt you?”

  “I just have a sickness of the head. I’m all right. What are we going to do?”

  Lou watched the child with fear in his eyes. He didn’t know if he was afraid of her or Eugene. “I have to think, kid. You lay here real quiet, so I can think.” For the moment he had a choice and he was going to stick with the kid. Maybe she was crazy, but then so was Eugene. She was different. She wasn’t bad and she did call off that “thing.”

  Maria lay still and watched one cartoon after another. Lou waited for the end of the last cartoon before he untied her hands.

  “Listen to me, kid. I ain’t sure what I’m doing is right; I may be putting you in more danger this way, but I can’t stand by and wait to see if that screwball is going to kill either one of us. I’m real sorry about all of this. I didn’t know what he was planning. I guess I am stupid. I got a little money stashed away. I just might take a trip somewhere after I take you home. You tell that lady that’s watching you she better call the police and turn Eugene in. Do me a favor, though. Don’t mention my name or where I live.” Maria nodded in agreement.

  “Wuz you telling the truth when you said that your mom didn’t love you because you wuzn’t a boy?”

  “Yes,” she said. At the sad look on Lou’s face, Maria added, “I do not mind now. In the beginning, it really bothered me. Now I am older and I understand better. She cannot help it. She is sick.”

  “Jeez, imagine a mother hating her own kid. That’s what made me decide. When you said that, and that jerk Eugene laughed, that was a dirty thing to do. You go wash your face and hands and comb your hair. I don’t want no one to say I didn’t take care of you. While you’re doing that I have to get my stuff together!”