by S. T. Boston
“Domestic terrorism?” muttered Sam surreptitiously. “What was their cause?”
“That's all I know. They don't tend to tell us more than they need to with things like this. Guess it's a good day for scum like that to hit the country, while it's down 'n all.” Sheriff Johnson shook his head sadly, obviously fully suckered in by what Sam suspected was a blatant and rather poor cover story. Sam had worked in military and government circles long enough to know when people lower down the food chain were being kept in the dark like a mushroom and fed shit; this was one of those occasions. There was no way that girl was a terrorist of any description, terrorists didn't possess magical healing powers, for one thing, at least the ones Sam had had the misfortune of dealing with in the past didn't.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, letting a long breath out through his teeth, still trying to play the dumb tourist, “That's some scary stuff; you said it was a female they were looking for?”
“Yes, sir. We don't have a good description, but they believe she's white, about five feet five, blonde hair, in her mid-to-late twenties.”
“Well, we certainly haven't seen any blonde, twenty-something females up here,” Sam laughed. “I'm sure we would have remembered!”
The sheriff fired him a disapproving look, obviously not amused by the joke. “You boys been outside?” He pointed to Sam's jeans and tee-shirt. “You're both soaking wet.” Despite the cold wet shirt clinging to his body, Sam had completely forgotten they were both still drenched. His mouth went dry – the Sheriff was obviously pretty wily. What reason could he give for them venturing out in this storm, without first donning some kind of wet weather gear? He was certain the sheriff would call the other two officers over to start pulling apart the RV at any moment.
“Yep, that was my fault,” chipped in Adam. “Musta eaten some dodgy food back in Denver earlier. When we stopped back up in that rest area, I was pretty sick. I didn't want to risk blocking the chemical toilet.” He clutched his stomach and tried his best to look a little nauseous.
“Okay, okay, you can spare me the gory details,” laughed the Sheriff, holding both of his palms up. “You do look a little green, son. Anyway, if it's alright with you I just need a few details.” He removed a small notebook from his waterproofs and took their names, as well as the licence plate number for the RV, which Adam provided from the rental agreement. “I'll take a quick look around, boys, if that's okay. And then I'll be out of your way. Sorry for the hold up.” The Sheriff tucked his notebook back in his jacket.
“Sure, knock yourself out,” sighed Sam. He had the feeling that saying no to Sheriff Johnson searching the RV wasn't an option anyway. “We'll just go wait up front and get out of your way.” Nudging Adam into action, they both climbed back into the cab, turning in their seats to keep an eye on the unwelcome visitor.
“Nice RV,” the Sheriff commented as he opened the toilet door, looking inside for far longer than was needed to establish that the small cubicle was empty. “What's she setting you back a night?”
“Sixty-five dollars,” Sam replied.
“Not cheap, not cheap at all,” the Sheriff said, letting out a small, surprised whistle. He was standing right by the bench seat, his left leg brushing on the wet cushion. “You dropping her back to Denver when you're done?” His search seemed to have been confined to the toilet cubicle. After all, on first appearances it looked to be the only place a person could reasonably hide.
“No, sir. Ultimately we're heading on to San Francisco.” Sam was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but they weren't quite out of the woods yet. It felt like an age since the Sheriff had come aboard. Thankfully, there had been no further sounds from under the bench seat.
“Well, I've kept you boys long enough,” he concluded, collecting his hat up off the drainer and affixing it to his head. “I think the rain's starting to ease, but you take it careful. I've seen far too many folks killed on these mountain roads.”
Sam felt as if he could have kissed the old fool – they were actually going to pull this off. “No problem, Sheriff. Have a good night,” he said, getting up from the driver's seat to see him out.
“Thanks for your time. I'll get my boys to let y'all on through. You have yourselves a nice vacation.” The Sheriff tipped his hat and shook Sam's hand one last time, before disappearing through the door and out into the ever-easing rain. They both watched him signal for the cars to be drawn back. The two officers who looked pig-sick of being kept out in the filthy weather jumped into action, obviously more than happy to have a few seconds in one of the dry patrol cars. As the road opened out before them, Sam fired the engine and got the RV moving. He treated Sheriff Johnson to a polite wave of thanks as they drove past.
Watching the flashing lights vanish behind them and into the night, Adam let out a massive sigh of relief, actually feeling the stress drain from his shoulders as the air escaped his lungs, “Shit, that was tense,” he laughed; the elation at having pulled off the scam giving him a fit of uncontrollable giggles, like a child who'd just gotten away with something naughty.
“Domestic terrorism, I mean what kind of shithouse cover story is that?” added Sam, also trying to suppress a relieved laugh. “Do you want to get back there and see how she is? I need to know what's really going on.”
In the relief of getting through the road block, Adam had actually forgotten that their hidden passenger had woken up, just as Sheriff Johnson stopped them. The fact that she hadn't made a sound after Sam told her to keep quiet meant she must at least understand or speak some English. The RV had reached the twisty section of Route 40. The ravine was now right by the side of the camper, dark and brooding. It looked hungry to claim any motorist who was foolhardy enough to test the crash barrier.
Struggling for balance, Adam realised it wasn't the easiest of times to be standing in the back taking apart the bench seat, but with his legs spread far enough apart and using the table as support, he removed the long cushion and opened the plywood top. It creaked slightly on its hinges. In the gloom, he saw her lying there, perfectly still, her large eyes wide open and as blue as an ocean. “It's— it's— o— okay,” he mumbled, tripping over his words. Adam held his hand out. Gingerly, the girl slid her arm from her side and took hold of it. The instant his skin touched hers, a wave of emotion flooded his body, like electricity running down a wire. Fear drenched every part of him. He was experiencing her fear, he realized. She was scared for him, for everyone. In an instant it passed, replaced by her vulnerability, and then something else swept that aside. Power. For a brief moment, her very presence seemed to fill every inch of the vehicle as if nothing else existed. Her haunting eyes appeared to hold knowledge and experience far beyond her years. Adam's head swam, as every ounce of strength drained from his muscles. His legs started giving way. Gradually, a warm soft smile crept over her lips; a smile which made him want to melt right into the linoleum.
“You dreamed about me,” she purred in a soft, musical tone. Unconsciousness took him and he hit the floor with a thump.
“Adam, what the fuck's going on back there? Adam!” As he came around, he could hear Sam shouting. It took a few second for the fuzziness in his mind to clear, and when it did, the past few minutes events rushed back into his head. What had she done to him?
“It's all okay,” he managed to say, his tone slightly groggy. The girl was sitting up, still inside the storage area of the seat, looking quizzically at him. “I just slipped, that's all.” He could see Sam craning his neck and trying to use the rear view mirror to get a look at what was happening.
“How is the girl? Is she awake? What was that thump?” Sam fired the questions off in quick succession, not waiting for answers. Adam shot her a quick glance. The sight of her face made his heart skip a beat, just as it had in the dream, the very first time he'd laid his eyes on her.
“Yes she's fine, just keep your eyes on the road and I'll be up with you soon.” He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, it could only have bee
n seconds. The camper still pitched left and right as Sam navigated the twisty sections of the treacherous road. Reaching into his back pocket, Adam took out the small metallic rectangle. Once again, it greeted him with a welcoming hum. “I… think… this belongs… to…you,” he stammered, holding it out to her. The relief on her face was blatant. Whatever the mysterious object was, it was important.
“Thank you,” she replied. Adam couldn't place her accent, it sounded like a mixture of Eastern European and French, all rolled into one, the words sliding off her tongue like silk. Reaching up, she took the object. It glowed brighter still at her touch. Drawing it close to her body, she clasped it tightly as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“It fell from your hand when we rescued you,” he managed to say. “It's beautiful; I've never seen anything like it.”
“I thought I'd lost it,” she whispered. “You have no idea how many lives may hinge on it being kept safe. Thank you.” She turned it over in her hand, examining the strange writing on its glowing surface. Before Adam could ask what it was, Sam's voice broke through from the front, cutting him off.
“What the hell is going on back there? A little info would be good!” he called.
“We're fine, mate,” Adam snapped, a little more aggressively than he meant. “Just give me a few minutes.” He turned back to the strange girl. “Who are you?” The awkward question left his lips before he had time to rephrase it.
“Oriyanna,” she replied, smiling warmly. “Thank you once again. I think you and your friend just saved my life. It was very brave what you did back there, hiding me away. You don't even know me.” Adam felt the RV slowing; it bumped over some gravel before coming to a stop.
Sam climbed out of the captain's seat and joined them in the back. “Right, could someone please tell me what the…” his voice trailed off at the sight of her, sitting upright in the seat cavity, clutching the strange object which glowed brighter than ever.
“Sam, this is Oriyanna,” Adam said, suddenly feeling awkward. Everything seemed a little disjointed and strange.
“It's good to see you're awake,” Sam replied. The girl's ocean blue eyes were fixed on him; it seemed as if she was looking right into his soul. “My name is Sam, and this is Adam,” he said slowly. There was something haunting about her that caught him off guard.
“Samuel,” she began, “I was just thanking Adam for what you've done. You risked a lot to help me.”
“It's no problem, and you can call me Sam. Only my foster mother ever called me Samuel, and I hated that bitch,” he said, managing a small smile, but his words seemed to have no effect on her. “Do you want to come out of the seat cavity? I think we need to have a chat and get a few answers.”
Adam took hold of her arm and helped her to her feet. Thankfully this time, there was no reaction to her touch, other than a little giddiness on his part, like a teenager on a first date who'd just stolen a kiss. There was something intoxicating about Oriyanna; he'd never been so drawn to a woman before. Sam bent down and removed the filthy wet duvet from the cavity. Shaking his head at the state of it, he shook it out and placed it back on the bed. It would need a good wash before they returned the rental, or the company would no doubt take a chunk of their security deposit. Finished with the duvet, he brushed the cushion off and replaced it while Adam fixed the small table back in place. Once everything was straight, Sam gestured for Oriyanna to sit down. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“Just some water, please,” she purred, sliding in behind the table, not letting the strange metallic object out of her grasp. Turning to the fridge, Sam removed a bottle of water. Removing the lid, he slid the bottle across the table to her before removing another two bottles. Adam broke the seal off his own and took a swig. The cool liquid instantly made him realise how thirsty he was.
“Thought you might have wanted a beer after that,” he said, watching Sam take a drink.
“Yeah very funny, I need to keep a steady head, we might not be in the clear just yet. I haven't seen a helicopter for a while, but I bet they're still out there. I just want to get a few answers from Oriyanna before we push on.”
“How far past the road block are we?” asked Adam, sitting down next to Oriyanna and setting his bottle on the table. Droplets of condensation ran down the clear plastic and pooled on the wood veneer.
“About six miles. We're just in a small side road. We should be okay for now.” Sam glanced at Oriyanna as she drank the last of her water in two long swallows. “Back there, at the road block,” he began, “the Sheriff said you were in a plane crash after being shot down by the military. Something about domestic terrorism. Now, I know a cover story when I hear one. I don't think for a second that you're a threat in that way. If I did, you wouldn't be here now. I've been unfortunate enough to deal with domestic terrorists many times before now, and I've never seen a single one heal themselves from a gunshot wound the way you did after we pulled you from the river.” Sam paused searching for the right words. Despite the water, his tongue felt parched, like old, dried-out leather. “How did you do that?” He looked up and caught her gaze as she shifted awkwardly on the seat.
“I did wonder if you'd seen that,” she began, sounding uneasy about the question. “The process is usually much faster, but being in the water slows it down.” She paused and glanced at them both anxiously. “Have you heard of nanorobotics?”
“I've read a little about them,” said Adam, caught a little off guard by the directness of her answer. “The theory is that microscopic robotic particles could one day be produced and used in medical research, for rebuilding damaged cells and organs, but as I said, as far as I know, it's just theory that borders on science fiction.”
“Is this something the US government is testing?” Sam asked, running a hand over his face. “Were they carrying out trials on you? Is that what you were trying to escape?” During his military days, Sam had heard of some pretty underhanded stuff being carried out by both the British and American governments. If they had somehow developed a way for serious injuries to heal in minutes, he was in no doubt it would be a closely guarded secret, one worth killing for. Not to mention the financial worth of such a product.
“No, Samuel, I wasn't a test subject,” she replied, smiling nervously. Sam cast his gaze over the strange object still clutched tightly in her hand. He couldn't even bring himself to approach that subject quite yet. “Though what Adam said is right,” she added. “There was no magical trickery to what you saw. I have millions of tiny, nanorobotic particles in my body. My people call it 'The Gift', but it's nothing more than modern medical science. It means I can heal most wounds very quickly.”
“Okay,” said Sam suspiciously, letting her words sink in. “Now let's have an answer that doesn't sound like it's come from a crazy person.” There was something about her deadly serious tone which told him she wasn't joking, but his sceptical mind just couldn't accept it, despite having seen it first-hand.
“It's the truth,” she said bluntly. “I can't expect you to understand it, but as well as being able to heal, the nanobots also ensure I never get sick, nor do I age. They keep my body in peak physical condition. Believe what you want. If you think you can explain what you saw, then that's fine.”
I'll make us all a coffee,” said Adam, standing up and removing three mugs from the cupboard. “I know I could use one right now.” He had a strong urge to do something normal, despite how unreal the situation was. Somewhere deep in his gut, a small portion of the fear he'd felt from Oriyanna still lurked, fluttering around like a demon butterfly. He had no idea how she'd made him feel those things. He knew one thing though. As improbable as her story sounded, and as hard as it was for him to grasp, he didn't doubt it for a second. He put a heaped teaspoon of the rich-smelling powdered drink into each mug and added hot water from the small, instant boil water heater before following it up with a splash of milk. Sam was sitting in silence, thinking through what Oriyanna had told them as Ada
m placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. She eyed it with a slightly puzzled expression. “I wasn't sure if you took sugar,” Adam said in a slightly awkward tone, setting a small plastic container and spoon by her mug. He watched her raise the mug to her face and take a sniff, followed by a very tentative sip. Her facial expression changed when she realised she liked the drink.
“This is okay,” she said, lifting the mug up for another mouthful. “What did you say it was called again?”
“It's just coffee,” replied Adam, frowning. “Where the hell have you been to have never had coffee?”
“It's a long story,” said Oriyanna, staring into the dark hot liquid.
“Okay that's enough of the bullshit!” spat Sam, standing up and digging a hand into the pocket of his wet jeans to remove his iPhone.
“What are you doing?” gasped Adam, horrified.
“What we should have done back at that road block – handing her over. I don't know how you seem so calm about it. It's like she's put some kind of spell on you! You don't believe any of this crap, do you? I mean, I could have bought a story about her being a test subject and escaping, hell I know what I saw her do with that bullet wound.” He pointed angrily at the place on Oriyanna's thigh; the only trace of the injury now was the hole in her suit which sported a light blood stain around the edges. “I think I know where this is going.” His voice grew louder with each word. “We helped you, we risked getting arrested and all you can do is spin us tales about how you can't get sick, or even age, and then pretending you've never had or seen coffee! I mean, please!” He slid his thumb over the screen and selected the call menu. “I'm going to call the Sheriff and get him down here. He can make what he wants of the situation. Personally, I've had enough.” He sat back down on the wet seat and began to dial 911.