by J. Naomi Ay
“Katelina!” Kinar gasped, and rose from his seat. “Wait. Anyone could have figured that out. Kiman’s family members are listed in his SpaceNavy records.”
“But they wouldn’t know his family doesn’t exist! Kinar, it’s me, and I don’t have a lot of time. Can you get a track on my signal, and send a starship to my rescue?”
“Blessed Saint, is it really you? A starship? Well, that may be a bit of problem. Is His Imperial Majesty there with you? Might I speak to him?”
“No. I don’t know where he is. Please, Kinar. Let’s not play twenty questions.” The image began to get fuzzy. “Just send a ship, or tell my sons. Please! The Black Eye Galaxy!”
With that, the call clicked off, leaving both Katie and myself mystified.
“What happened to your palace?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at the cell in her hand. “All bars are gone. That’s it. We’re too far away.”
“Well, we’ll hope and pray that your message got through. I’ll keep an eye out for an Imperial SpaceNavy starship on the horizon.” I tried to sound cheery, and smiled while raising my thumbs.
“Thanks, Dave,” she frowned, and then, worked her mouth into a crooked smile. “I’m going to head back to my cabin before Luka figures out where I am. In the meantime, if you get a chance, can you have a look around? Go back to that point where we thought the escape pod might be stored. In worse case, we may have to jump ship, and just hope that the SpaceNavy can find our pod.”
“I will.” I escorted her to the door.
“And Dave," she added, handing me the laser. "Keep this. You never know when you might need to use it.”
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Just point and shoot. Keep it away from your own arms and legs, and you’ll be fine." She reached up and kissed my cheek, just as the door swished open again to reveal Mr. Luka.
“I see you’re feeling better,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, a cigarette on his lip. His orange eyes flickered at me in the dim starlight from the window. “Do you like your sight, human?”
“What?” Quickly, I backed away, holding my hands up as if to show no harm.
“Your sight. Your vision,” he repeated. “Do you like to look at things like this lady here?”
“Well, yes. She’s quite pleasant on the eyes.”
“Then, take my advice, human. Keep your hands off my wife. If you touch her again, I shall do to you what I did to my brother, Mika.”
Chapter 20
Janet
What the hell was I thinking? This kid's life was even more messed up than mine. His brother had a head injury that left him virtually comatose, and now here I was volunteering to do something about it.
If I ever had kids of my own, I would have known better. But, I never did, not even one. How was I supposed to know that you just can't promise this kind of thing to the little runts, and then, expect to walk away?
They look at you with hope in their eyes, and trusting expression which says, I know you can fix it for me. How was I supposed to tell the kid that I couldn't do a damn thing?
"So, he was hit by a baseball, and it fractured, and a piece of the bone..."
"I don't know," Zak replied, his eyes fluttering, and nose starting to run again.
"What was I thinking?" I muttered. "You're not exactly a doctor, are you?" I handed him a fresh handkerchief, my last one. Anymore dripping from this kid, and one of us was going to end up wiping it on our arm. “Help me up, kid. I want to go upstairs and talk to your brother’s doctor.”
“Will he talk to you?” The kid held out his arm for me to grab.
“Come on. Be a man, Zak, and pull this old lady up.” Once, vertical and all my yarn stuffed in the bag, the kid, and I limped over to the lift. “Of course, he’ll talk to me. I probably know more about brain injuries than he does. Did I tell you I was once the Chief Nurse of the famous brain surgeon, Dr. Sehron de Kudisha?”
“Who?”
The lift door opened, so I limped inside.
“Forget it. Push the button. Let’s go up. My ankle doesn’t like it when I stand around for too long.”
The kid pushed the button, but we didn’t move. In fact, the door shut and the lights flicked off.
“Aw crap. Hit the call button, kid. Tell them you’re stuck in here with an old lady who can’t stand on her feet. This kind of thing never would have happened if this was an SdK hospital.”
“Hello?” Zak called. “Hello, is anybody there? No one’s answering, Janet.”
“Damnit. Keep trying, junior. I gotta sit down.” I lowered myself to the floor as best as I could, while trying not to break any other bones on the way down.
“Help!” Zak called, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. “Somebody help!”
“It’s alright, kid,” I said. “No need to panic. They’ll find us soon enough.”
Zak punched the buttons a few more times, and then, with a sob, sat down on the floor.
“These kind of things always happen to me,” he moaned. “I’m a screw-up no matter what I do.”
“Come on, Zakkie. Don’t overdo it. Elevators get stuck. It happens all the time.”
It started to get hot in there. Why was it that when elevators broke, the aircon always went out too? I tried to fan myself with my hand, and when that didn’t work, my knitting. Zak continued whimpering, which quickly got on my nerves.
“Listen, kid,” I threatened. “Keep it up, and I’ll revoke that wish I granted.”
“I want to go home,” the kid wailed. “I hate this, and I hate you.”
“Likewise, junior,” I snapped.
Then, the lift bounced, prompting both of us to scream.
“Help!” Zak yelled again as we slid downward a couple of floors.
It stopped somewhere near the bottom, which I considered a good thing. We bounced a couple more times, accompanied by a delightful grinding noise, as well as a large bang, which might have been a cable snapping.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s all upward from here. Right, junior? Things can only get better.”
“I think I wet my pants,” Zak announced.
“I agree, you did, and I don’t even have to think about it. We’re both lucky that I didn’t wet mine.”
The lift door slid open, right then, and surprisingly, another kid came in.
“Arsan!” Zak gasped.
Go figure. It was a friend of his.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I called, interrupting their reunion. “Hold the door open so this old lady can get out. After this, I'm only taking the stairs. What's a broken ankle when your alternative is a broken neck?”
“You’re not getting out of here.” This kid, Arsan pushed a button and the doors swished shut.
"Hold on," I demanded. "Who died and put you in charge?"
“You’d be surprised,” the little creep youngster scoffed.
“Arsan, what are you doing here? Why are you in this hospital all the way here in New Jersey?”
“I told you to stay put, Zak,” Arsan replied, and there we were moving upward again. Good.
“First floor please,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. Riding a malfunctioning lift with two bickering teenagers was not exactly high on my priority list. "Would you mind pushing the button for the lobby so I can get out? You boys can continue your fighting without me. You don't need me here to referee."
"I told you last time, I couldn't stay, Arsan," Zak insisted.
Both little creeps ignored me as if I wasn't there, which let me tell you, I certainly wished I wasn't.
"I would have starved to death,” Zak continued.
“I’m going to starve to death if we don’t get out of here,” I interrupted.
“I’m really sorry, Arsan."
"Yeah, me too," I added. "I'm really sorry I ever went out to shovel snow."
"I am sorry too," Arsan said, although he didn't sound like it. "I am sorry for what I am about to do."
Then, he waved his hand, and wha
t do you know, the kid instantly disappeared.
“Go figure,” I said as the lift began to drop.
I would have liked to have a frank discussion with Zak about his odd little friend, but unfortunately, I was too busy at that moment.
Once again, I was holding on for dear life as the lift plummeted to the bottom of the shaft, and this time, crashed into the floor. Fortunately, we were already in a hospital.
A few months later, I was finally back home in my rental house. I was healed enough so I could walk again. I could do a little shopping, and pretty much get on with my life, which wasn't saying much because my life was pretty boring.
To tell you the truth, I was lonely. I kept wondering about that kid, Zak, and his brain injured brother. Last time I saw Zak, he was wandering the hospital on crutches, due to our unfortunate elevator escapade, and his brother was still comatose and unresponsive.
I was thinking about all this one night as I tossed, and turned in bed. Everything was aching, and my insomnia was kicking in.
"Janet," I told myself. "You need to quit feeling sorry for yourself, and get a life. There's still stuff that you can do even though you're not so young."
"Like what?" I responded.
Now don't go telling me I was insane for having a full two-way conversation all by myself. I didn't have a dog, otherwise, I would have been talking to him. At least, I wasn't crazy enough to be talking to my dead husband. Plenty of people did that kind of thing, but not me.
"You need to help that boy," a voice announced.
"Jerry?" I shrieked, bolting upright. “Is that you?”
"No, Janet," the voice replied. "It is me."
Of course. Who else but Ron would pop into my bedroom in the middle of the night?
"So now you're back. Thanks for leaving me to wander through a Caribbean jungle a few months ago. Don't expect a Christmas card from me this year, or ever."
"Go help the boy, Janet," Ron repeated, not elaborating further on which boy, although I could guess. A long time ago, rehabilitative therapy had been my thing. "He needs you for this. You will help him become who he must be."
"Sure. Now, would you mind not dropping in on me anymore? In case you haven't figured it out, our relationship, yours and mine, is not what it was. Your attempt to kill me has put a damper on my love. Go back to Captain Perfect Bitch. She obviously doesn't mind when you try to kill her."
Somewhere out in space, I heard him chuckle, as the cigarette smoke filled up my room.
"Janet, if I desire to kill you, I simply would. I am merely arranging for you to return to the hospital, so that you might meet the boy whose destiny joins with yours."
"I appreciate that, pal. I'll keep it in mind when I get up in the morning."
Without a goodbye or go to hell, Ron and his smoke left. I could tell because my room felt a sudden, cold draft. That was a good thing. It cleared away all his cigarette smoke. To think, I wasted a few decades pining after that jerk.
The next morning, I was sure all that conversation had been a dream. Or, maybe it was a nightmare. I wasn’t certain.
"Janet, you are totally done with this," I informed myself. Ron and his weirdness were forever history, as far as I was concerned, and I wasn't going to get into anymore elevators with that kid, Zak.
That was until I slipped in the shower. How idiotic was that? I fell on my bum ankle too. Fortunately, this time I wasn't relying on Norman next door. I had purchased one of those little necklace things that immediately called the medics as soon as I yelled. So, there I was headed back to Robert Wood Johnson.
A few days later, I was once again in the lobby knitting new scarves for new nurses. Some old guy was sitting next to me, his head tipped back, his mouth open catching flies. Every few seconds, he'd erupt into a horrible sounding snore.
"You here for sinus surgery?" I asked when he snorted awake.
"What?" He mumbled, and looked around like he couldn't remember where he was or why.
"Me," I continued. "This is the third time I'm back here. I gotta trick ankle that just keeps on giving out. Of course, I haven't helped it by traipsing through a Bahamian jungle, or falling down an elevator shaft. However, this time it was a bar of soap that did me in. Funny thing was, I never ever bought that brand. I only use the liquid stuff. So go figure. How'd that thing get in my shower?"
"What?" The old guy blinked, and cleared the goop out of his eyes. Then, he put on his glasses, and smiled in a way I might have thought sexy thirty years ago. Well, maybe only twenty, but either way, he didn’t look half bad. "Bud," he said, and offered me his hand. "Juicy fruit?"
Damnit. That was the magic word. There was that destiny thing, right there in that stick of yellow wrapped gum. It should have been written on the cover, Take one, Janet, and away you go. Your bus to Ohio is leaving from Gate 3.
"Janet Kersey," I sand with a sigh, and set down my knitting. "You got a sick kid here, one with a skull fracture?"
"My grandson. How'd you know?" Bud had nice blue eyes that twinkled in a way that sort of reminded me of Jerry. Of course, Jerry's eyes were brown, so they were different. Still, there was something in his face that seemed…well…nice.
"How'd I know?" I repeated, popping the gum into mouth. "You folks need a nurse with experience in recuperative therapy? Did you know, I was the Chief Surgical Nurse to the infamous Dr. de Kudisha? I have more than forty years of clinical work under my belt."
"I like your belt." Bud looked down at my waist. "But, we're heading back to Ohio in a few weeks."
Ohio, New Jersey, they were all the same. Bud helped me up and we took the stairs to the kid's room, as there was no way, I was going to get back in a lift.
As we made our way across the lobby, from the corner of my eye, I spied that kid, that odd friend of Zak’s. He was leaning against a post and smoking a cigarette, scowling at me as if I was doing something wrong.
“Just a minute,” I told Bud, and turned back to the kid. “Hey you!”
“Who are calling?” Bud asked.
“That kid.”
“What kid?”
“Over there.” I pointed, but by then, of course, that kid was gone, that vanishing trick coming in handy once again.
"Hey, Etan, can you hear me, buddy?" I stood over the bed. I held his hand and pressed the pressure points in his thumbs. "I'm Janet. Say hello to me by wiggling your thumb."
Sure enough, that little tike's thumb pushed back against mine. That clinched it. Apparently, the kid hadn't responded to anyone else. It was that destiny thing at work. You just can’t escape it when it picks you out.
At any rate, I moved to Ohio, to the charming little burg of Loveland where I spent the next few years teaching Etan how to reprogram his brain.
Chapter 21
Hannah
That idiot, Tuman got himself arrested, and ended up in the clink. He was a stupid fool. I was better off without him anyway. I had thrown the knife on the ground, never minding that it had fallen right next to his foot. That was his problem. He should have left the old bag, and come with me.
Luckily, I had been wearing gloves that left no trace of a print. It wasn’t that this murder was premeditated, or anything like that. It was just that my hands were cold. I always wore leather gloves. There were no witnesses either, or least none that were sober enough to speak.
Catching the first bus that came along, no matter where it was headed, I stepped aboard, took a seat, and didn’t look back. One of the old witch’s coins would take me anywhere in the continent, even though my goal was to get to space. I needed to make sure all my tracks were well covered, just in case. It would have been foolish to come this far only to get turned around.
After riding around for a dozen hours or so, visiting practically every city in Mishnah, and beyond, I got off at the Turko Spaceport, and caught a shuttle to the Mother Moon. There, I was supposed to connect with a commercial flight that did the quadrant’s spacebase rotation, one of which was my destination, SB 22.<
br />
Unfortunately, on the moon, my flight was delayed. In fact, due to dust storms in the neighboring star system, there were many cancellations. I was lucky to secure a room at the adjacent hotel, where at least I could lie down for a few hours and catch my breath.
I turned on the vid, and watched the news for a little bit. All they could talk about on every channel was that Luminerian planet.
“Who gives a fuck?” I announced out loud, although no one was listening to me. “Freaks and mutant creatures who no one cares about.”
If I was in charge, I might have bombed every planet in that system, and while I was at it, I would have bombed a few more like Cascadia III, where my second ex-husband and my monstrous children lived. If they all died, that would be three less people to worry about. Three less people to fill me with guilt.
Finding nothing more interesting to watch on the vid, I decided to go get some food. A drink or two might not be so bad, and the Space Sailor’s Bar was open, and filled with stranded travelers.
Snaring a seat at the bar where I could see the whole place reflected in the mirrored glass, I order a shot of this, and a glass of that.
The scene behind me would have given anyone nightmares. Humanoids from not just the Empire, but the entire galaxy and beyond, were lounging around drunk and foolish. Other creatures with many limbs, or with no limbs at all, were clustered in groups, chatting in their strange voices.
“Hey baby.” A guy approached me. His skin was entirely red, and his eyes were as black as a starless night. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t discriminate among humanoids. I’ve been with just about every two-legged creature similar to man. However, Centipedeans, Beckwads, and Bagmagians were where I drew the line. Too many limbs, too many heads, or too many penises spelled too many problems, and the last thing I wanted was more issues.