American Quest

by Sienna Skyy

  A white truck loomed and slowed when it neared the van. Grinning from the passenger seats were Forte and Shannon.

  NEW YORK

  Gloria didn’t peruse the library today. Instead, she spent most of the day curled up, temples aching and heartsick, unable to concentrate on even the lightest reading. She’d hoped Sileny would stop by for her regular housekeeping routine, but she didn’t.

  I have to get up. I have to shake this off. If I give in to despair, I’m done.

  She stood and walked to the shower. She stayed under the spray a long time, tended to her hair and face, then decided to explore the enormous walk-in closet for something to wear. Until now, she had buried herself under loose, oversized clothing though she could have had her pick of any of the stylish garments draped on satin-padded hangers. She’d denied herself wearing them as if her defiance gave her some scrap of power.

  But now that seemed silly. Regardless of whether she wore loose cotton or tailored pinstripes, the clothes still did not feel as though they belonged to her. And unless she intended to wear the same thing day after day, she might as well make peace with it.

  She entered the closet, switched on the light, and brand-new garments spaced at precise intervals of three inches lined up before her. Labels from the most elite designers; cuts that decorated a woman’s body with the perfect balance of flattery and edge. Sewing that was deliberate, not mass-produced like her other clothes, and luscious fabrics with natural fibers, the odd synthetic appearing only sparsely in blends. She could never afford to wear these things in her normal existence.

  Still, Gloria chose with restraint.

  She selected a simple, mid-length black shift that angled in a classic line from nape to knee. It exposed skin below the neck, though without cleavage, and it fit her perfectly. She slipped on a pair of strappy heels and regarded herself in the mirror.

  Her very being seemed to lift at the prospect of dressing not for a job, a man, or even friends, but just for simple indulgence.

  She returned to the closet and tried on another. Royal hues of plum enriched with scrolling emerald patterns.

  And another. A business suit: plush but sharp-edged. She imagined herself meeting with investors in this. She could garner endless partnerships and support for Woven Hillside. She remembered how Bruce had described her a few days ago—had it been a week now?—saying she looked like she was about to lead a marching band. Now she saw it.

  One more. What else did she have to do? An evening gown. Sumptuous and flowing, caressing her skin, revealing the occasional shock of her figure and yet still coming off refined. Even regal.

  From the rooms beyond came the scent of lavender—she could swear it was that—being rendered over intense heat.

  Vance.

  She folded her arms over the gorgeous dress.

  She would say hello. Had to say hello. Regardless of how she decided to proceed with him, it made sense to maintain contact. It was better to cultivate his charming side. She hoped never again to feel the intensity of that first day, when they’d had lunch and he’d taken her away. The darkness in his eyes still caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She would make contact tonight, however brief.

  But not in this. She changed back into the first outfit, the simple black dress.

  She strode into the kitchen. “What is the lavender going into?”

  “Dumplings,” he said as he glanced at her, then paused and turned slowly to regard her fully. So intense was his gaze that she had to look away. Perhaps the black dress was not conservative enough after all.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m, er, making some dumplings for an artichoke ragout. Forgive me for saying this, but you look spectacular.”

  No, she wouldn’t forgive him saying it.

  She turned and strode back to her room where she found a long, easy sweater. She draped it over the black dress and returned to the kitchen.

  “Did you catch a chill?” he said with what sounded like disappointment.

  She shrugged.

  “Remind me to have the air conditioning ripped out.”

  Unbidden, a smile threatened her lips.

  The summery perfume of lavender disappeared and an acrid smoke pinched her nose. Vance turned suddenly and pulled a pan from the stove, but the artichoke hearts were now blackened.

  He sighed and switched the vent hood on, then turned to her. “No matter. We’ll go out.”

  Go out? Gloria’s heart pounded.

  “Aren’t you worried someone might recognize me?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She hadn’t intended to accept another meal in his company, but under the circumstances, it seemed prudent to accompany him.

  “All right, then,” she said carefully.

  Vance took her by the elbow and led her to the front door—a door that did not exist moments ago—and they stepped through it to the elevator.

  And then, simply, fabulously, they were outside.

  A light evening in summer, the sun seemed reluctant to forfeit the day and it stretched its farthest reach into the park. They strolled through it and Gloria felt absurdly casual.

  She could make a break for it. Could simply run. If not here, then at the restaurant.

  But somehow, Gloria knew better. If Aaron Vance could make doors disappear and reappear—or an entire restaurant for that matter—he likely had a way of keeping her on some unseen leash. Perhaps he even meant to test her. She did not really believe the burned artichoke hearts were accidental.

  For now, she would go along and see what happened.

  22

  OHIO

  FORTE SAT ON TOP OF THE PICNIC TABLE strumming a languid ballad on his guitar as the sun began to sink over the park. He paused from time to time, jotting notes on paper, then returning to his strumming. Jamie and Bruce both rested their heads on their hands, and Bedelia gazed at the children playing on the swings.

  Bruce tried to force the image of Gloria and Enervata out of his head. He wondered what this Macul might look like. Scaly skin and pointed teeth? Jamie said he could probably change his appearance and that he might have turned himself into a hunky-looking man that he thought Gloria might find attractive. Could Gloria possible find anyone attractive under those circumstances?

  Bruce felt the urge to drop and knock out some push-ups. Sitting in the van all day was making his heart restless and his muscles stiff.

  Shannon waved at Sal’s Place with a wrapped peppermint candy she’d scored on the way out. “I don’t know if I’d call that the best eats in three states. Best eats in three streets, maybe.”

  Bedelia patted her. “You never did get your chili dog, did you, dear?”

  Shannon shrugged. “Maybe the next place will have ’em. Honestly, I was so hungry I could have tackled one of Jamie’s giant mosquitoes and slathered some butter on it.”

  “Goodness!” Bedelia blanched. “But you hadn’t eaten in so long. I still can’t believe it took us five hours to get here! It should have taken one. But all those roadblocks, and the traffic . . . I don’t know how you held on until we got to the restaurant. I had to dig into some of those chips in the van. But Jamie barely ate anything. Didn’t even touch her ham and cheese from Sal’s!”

  Jamie poked the white paper bag. “I’ll eat it later. With all the excitement my stomach’s kind of in knots.”

  A little boy began to cry on the playground and they all turned to look.

  Bedelia frowned. “Look at that baby standing there all alone. He looks no more than three years old.”

  The boy’s sobs escalated and he called for his mother. Jamie and Bruce rose from the picnic table.

  “Better check it out,” Bruce said, and he and Jamie started for the playground.

  But as they approached, a ten-year-old girl in a ponytail galloped over to the little boy and put her arm around his shoulders, kneeling down next to him. He balled a fist in his eyes and, as she spoke to him, he nodded.

  Jamie and Bruce turned bac
k. A landscaped cluster of miniature rose bushes bloomed in a circle of red and green. In the center of them, a lone sunflower stretched for the sky. Bruce paused, thinking of the golden sapling growing within the ring of red maples. And Shannon’s T-shirt the night they met her—red with a yellow heart in the center. He frowned and scanned the park.

  Jamie tossed the white bag with the ham and cheese sandwich into the trash can.

  “You’re not going to eat it?” Bruce said.

  Jamie sighed. “Given the tango going on in my stomach right now? I don’t think I can hold it.”

  Bruce knew that, given Jamie’s recent blood loss, she’d do well to have a decent meal. But he didn’t push it. Jamie knew what she could handle.

  They strode back to the others. Jamie waved toward the little girl leading the younger boy away as she and Bruce settled back at the picnic table. “Looks like his sister showed up.”

  Forte switched to a slow blues tune. “I think one of my cancelled gigs would have been around here somewhere. It was near Cincinnati. What’s the name of this town again?”

  “Blue Ash,” Jamie replied.

  Bedelia scratched her chin. “It just seems wrong, us sitting here like this. Shouldn’t we be moving? Maybe we were supposed to go somewhere else?”

  “Between the berry stains on the map and that napkin that landed on Bedelia from nowhere, this is the only thing that makes sense,” Jamie said. “We could get back on the road, but where would we go?”

  Bruce’s stomach rolled. Jamie was right, but the frustration was wearing on him. He felt as though they’d managed to gather troops but got lost on the way to the battlefield. What was the point of all of this? And where were those damned pillars, anyway?

  Bedelia shook her head. “I keep wondering why I’m here. I’m not sure how I can help you kids bring Bruce’s Gloria home.”

  Jamie looked at her. “You already helped with that swarm of insects. You’re here for a reason, Bedelia. All of us are. And it’s not just a matter of getting Gloria back. If Enervata succeeds, our lives change forever. Everyone on Earth. We’re his slaves.”

  “He’s not going to succeed,” Bruce said dully.

  Bedelia shook her head. “It’s just a lot for me to try to understand.”

  Bruce narrowed his eyes at the park. Resting against the trunk of a spreading blue ash tree sat the little girl with the ponytail. There was no sign of the little boy or a mother or father. He excused himself and rose, walking over to the tree.

  The girl sat with her legs folded eating a sandwich from a white paper bag. Bruce stole a glimpse at the trash can and did not see the sandwich Jamie had thrown away just a few minutes ago.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked over at the slide.

  He turned to her. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  She swallowed a bite of ham and cheese and looked up at him. “Fine.”

  “You okay?”

  She shrugged. “Fine.”

  Bruce rubbed his chin. “I saw you helping out that little boy a few minutes ago. That was very nice. Is he your brother?”

  The girl shook her head. “I’m just the guard. Kids get lost all the time; you’d be surprised. Sometimes a family’s having a picnic and one of the kids wanders off.” She cranked her voice to a bubbly falsetto and cocked her brow. “Gots to keep the old eyes open!”

  “Well, it sounds like they’re very lucky to have you helping out. Who appointed you guard?”

  “It’s just my job, you know? The safest thing? You make a chain. All the kids hold hands and then you know for sure you have every one.”

  The girl took another bite of sandwich and looked off. Her demeanor was considerably older than her years.

  “Do you live around here somewhere?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’m Bruce.”

  “Emily. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Do you mind if I sit?”

  Emily shook her head. Bruce sat next to her under the shade of the towering blue ash.

  “Emily, is your mom nearby?”

  The girl shrugged, a momentary pinch to her nose.

  “How ’bout your dad?”

  She took another bite and offered him a conflicted expression.

  A warm breeze swelled the leaves above, bringing with it a scent of arbor foliage followed by a hint of smoky sausage and burgers on a grill.

  Bruce pointed at the picnic table, where Jamie and the others were stealing glances his way. “I’m here with some friends and we noticed you helping that boy. But I gotta say, you seem a little young to be on guard. That’s why I’m asking about your mom and dad. You live here in the park, don’t you?”

  Emily blinked twice as she chewed the sandwich, half-moons the size of Bruce’s thumbnail trimming the grilled bread. “My dad dropped me off here and told me to wait for him.”

  “When was that?”

  She looked down, twitched her feet, and then shrugged again.

  A shriek of delight filtered toward them from the north field, where children were playing tag. Overhead, an airplane yawned, and the great blue ash tree seemed to breathe in the languid air through the rustle of its leaves. Away from where they sat, everything seemed carefree. No awareness of Gloria’s abduction or the possibility of these freedoms vanishing at the whim of a brutal being. No awareness of a little girl in a ponytail who monitored lost children in the park but had no guardian of her own.

  “I knew my dad wasn’t gonna come back,” Emily said distantly. “It’s been a long time. It’s okay though because I met Stay.”

  “Stay?”

  She nodded at him, ponytail bobbing. “He’s a collie-beagle mix. He came up after those first few days and snuggled next to me while I was trying to sleep in the little fort house. And then in the morning, I looked at his collar and it said Stay. He’s been following me everywhere ever since.”

  “How long have you been in this park?”

  “I’m not sure, really. The first day I came here, everyone was having a party with piñatas and chips and salsa and fun music with lots of horns. I don’t know how long ago that was. They have bathrooms and showers or whatever here but they lock’m up at night. I’m glad it’s summer again. If it weren’t for Stay it would have been awful tough when it got cold. Plus in the summer there’s more people here and sometimes they’re real nice, ’specially when I find the lost kids. Lots of times they give me cookies and stuff. In fact they just did another piñata day.”

  Bruce tugged at his ear. “You know, there are lots of places for kids like you. Sometimes they can find you a nice family to live with.”

  Emily shook her head. “Before I came here? When I was with my dad? There were lots of kids around who’d been in foster. Bad things happened to them all the time. That’s why I stay away from the police and stuff. It’s much better in the park.”

  “Don’t you get scared here all by yourself?”

  “Stay always looked out for me.”

  Bruce panned the park. Some teenagers in baseball hats were playing Frisbee with a black lab, but there were no other dogs in sight.

  “Where’s Stay now?”

  Emily wrinkled her brow. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a collar. A single tag bearing the word Stay dangled from the metal clip. Emily’s eyes glistened and she swallowed hard. “This morning when I woke up he was gone. I don’t know where he went.”

  Bruce sighed, inclining his head and lifting his eyes to her. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  Her words came as if she were chewing through them. “He’s never left me since that first night and he always waits for me when I have to go to the bathroom and stuff. I don’t know how he got his collar off.”

  Bruce put a hand on her tiny shoulder. “You know, there’ve been some strange things going on lately. The past week or two I learned a lot about why things happen the way they do. In fact, maybe I’d better explain.”

  Bruce told Emily everything that had happened sin
ce the time he and Gloria went to dinner with Carlotta. The little girl tilted her head as she listened and Bruce saw disbelief alternating with flickers of wonder on her face. Knowing that she had probably been in the habit of concealing the details of her situation when talking to adults, Bruce guessed that Emily had taken a significant risk in speaking so candidly of her situation. He returned the favor by leaving nothing out, right up until they arrived at Sal’s Place by a sprawling park in Blue Ash.

  When he finished, Emily regarded him with suspicion. “Aren’t you a little old for fairy tales?”

  Bruce laughed. “It’s true. Every word of it. Here, look.”

  He stretched out the underside of his arm to display the slashes and blisters that had resulted from the showdown with the insects.

  Emily grimaced. “Eew!”

  He rested his arm on his knee. “I know, it looks crazy and it is crazy. I hardly know what to think of it myself. I just, I’m so worried about Gloria. If this is happening to us, I can’t imagine what might be happening to her.”

  “You guys were gonna get married, huh?”

  Bruce nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Are going to get married. I just wish I knew if she were okay. I don’t know if she’s hurt or scared or what.”

  Emily listened carefully, then shook her head. “She’s not scared.” “You don’t think so?”

  “She probably was at first, but now she’s just wondering. Wondering about you and whether you feel different about her. Probably trying to think of what to do next, but she knows she’s stuck.”

  Bruce pondered this.

  “Is that how you felt after your dad dropped you off?”

  Emily tilted her head and looked off again.

  A mosquito buzzed his ear and Bruce was quick to slap it. Quicker than he’d ever been before in his life. He gave a rueful laugh. “The thing is, Emily, every step of the way we’ve gotten a signal to go somewhere. We got here to Sal’s place because of the napkin and the berry stains on the map, and then here we find you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Now that Stay is gone, I think it makes sense for you to hang out with us for a while.”