by Nancy Madore
“Shit!” she heard him murmur under his breath.
Nadia started to cry. “Tell me why you brought me here!” she screamed.
Suddenly the other two men were in the room. They rushed over, one on either side of Nadia. Blue Eyes removed his knee from her back, and she surprised them all by struggling anew, flipping herself over, kicking, and swinging her bound fists at them.
“Whoa!” one of them said. “Easy now!” They flipped her back onto her stomach and held her there, just as Blue Eyes had done.
“Took your time, didn’t you,” she heard Blue Eyes mutter. But it was over. And he didn’t even seem all that rattled. Nadia began to scream at the top of her lungs.
“Whoa!” said one of the men again.
“Put your mask back on and go fix your hand,” said the other.
The two men continued to hold Nadia down while Blue Eyes went out. She screamed until her voice gave out, then she wept loudly, occasionally bringing her sobs to a scream as if to emphasize her despair.
“Whoof,” sighed one of her captors when she finally started winding down. “What a tigress! And how about our friend? A real lady’s man, that one.” In spite of her distress Nadia immediately recognized the Indian accent.
“Shut up,” said the other, but his tone was good-natured. They actually seemed cheerful.
“I was talking to you, gandu.”
“Well, save it for later. Do you have it?”
“Yes, of course. Do you think I am like Butterfingers out there?” The light banter was distracting. The Indian accent also seemed strangely out of place.
Nadia tried to look up so she could see what the ‘it’ was that they had, but the men were holding her too securely for that. She wanted to struggle again, but she was simply too exhausted.
“No use to fight,” the Indian said politely. Still holding her firmly, they pulled up her arms so they were over her head.
“Why did you bring me here?” she kept asking, though they were just little whimpers now.
“As if she didn’t know,” one of them chided under his breath.
“Don’t engage,” warned the other one.
“Know what?” Nadia felt a pin prick in her arm and tried to jerk it away but they held her so firmly in place she wasn’t able to budge it. “What are you doing?” she cried. “No! No! No!” She could feel something cool being injected into the vein in her arm.
Nadia saw a shadow in the doorway and looked up to see that Blue Eyes had returned. His hand was bandaged but, aside from that, he seemed no worse for the wear. They removed the needle from her arm. Then they hoisted her up, one on either side of her, and half led, half dragged her to the bed.
“Sorry we took so long,” one of them said. “We had to make up another syringe after you stepped on the other one. How’s your hand?”
“Just a small flesh wound,” he said irritably.
The two men who were holding Nadia looked at each other and then suddenly burst into laughter.
“Quit fucking around you two,” said Blue Eyes. “This isn’t the time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the Indian politely. “Were we the ones getting the tati kicked out of us by the woman?”
“She’s not just any woman…,” remarked the other.
“Just stay focused,” snapped Blue Eyes. “It’s not over yet.”
Nadia was only half listening as a delightful sense of calm washed over her. “What’s not over yet?” she mumbled incoherently.
“Okay,” Blue Eyes was saying. “Bring her in.”
Chapter 5
The room was moving. Nadia tried again and again to focus. Everything seemed distant and unreal. She was extremely weak and had to be assisted just to walk.
They led her into the center of a strange, brownish circle that had been drawn out on the floor. Dots of light flickered and danced all around her. Candles? The room seemed both unnaturally bright and eerily dim, all at the same time.
“What’s happening?” she said. Or thought she said. She wasn’t sure.
There were voices in the distance. Nadia strained to hear what they were saying, but they were too far away for her to make out. She looked up and saw the masked men staring down at her. They seemed to be speaking to her, but she couldn’t understand a word they said. There were moments when they appeared to be coming toward her, and others when they seemed to move further away. One after the other, they came in and out of focus like characters in a dream. Nadia tried harder to concentrate. “What are you saying?” she kept asking. “I can’t understand you.”
A long time seemed to elapse, or perhaps it was hardly any time at all. Nadia couldn’t tell anymore. She also gave up trying to understand what they were saying. It was all just babble, not like anything she'd heard before. Even their voices sounded strange. Alien. She vaguely recalled some previous notion of aliens. Yes! The thing glimmering in the distance. A spaceship? She felt a strange thrill at the thought. Had she been abducted by aliens?
And then, as if spurred on by the thought, she began floating. Beam me up Scottie, she thought, remembering a line from a television show. What was the show? She tried to remember but could not. Yet she was definitely being drawn upwards, floating higher and higher. Strange how she was no longer afraid!
She was pleased to see that the masked men were staying behind. She glanced down at them and was momentarily startled out of her delirium. There, on the floor directly below her, was her. She watched, curious but still peculiarly detached, as the masked men hovered over her lifeless body, speaking to her in their alien tongue. Her body was lying face up on the floor in the middle of a mystical looking circle that was marked with the same hieroglyphics she saw in the dark room. Her hair had become quite disheveled during her ordeal, and the wavy blonde tresses fell all around her face like a halo. Her eyes were wide open and staring, and seemed to be looking right back up at her. Her lips were slightly parted, as if in surprise.
Suddenly one of the men stopped speaking.
“Something’s wrong,” he said, picking up Nadia’s arm and holding her wrist between two fingers. After a moment he threw her arm back down angrily. “Shit! We’re killing her!” He yanked off his mask and lowered his ear to her lips. She could see that it was Blue Eyes. His previously styled hair was now all tousled from the mask.
Blue Eyes started CPR while the other two men looked on in silence. Nadia watched too, surprised by how little the scene affected her. It was as if none of it was real.
“Come on!” Blue Eyes yelled at her between breaths. The other two men exchanged glances. “Come on, Nadia!” he yelled again. It was the first time he’d spoken her name.
In the process of floating upward Nadia had become aware of an intense white light above her, but she’d been too absorbed in what was happening below to give it her full attention. She now felt a gentle pulling sensation, though she couldn’t tell where it was coming from or even which direction it was pulling her in. She looked up and beheld the white light in all of its glory. It was breathtaking! The scene below was instantly forgotten. Nadia felt a little like vapor as she drifted into the welcoming light, merging with the awesome brilliance. She could see shadows moving toward her in the distance, friendly and approving. I must go to them, she thought.
As Nadia rose higher the shadows grew more distinct. In the forefront of the gathering crowd she could see the form of a woman rushing toward her. Her mother? A sharp thrill of anticipation filled her. But as the woman got closer Nadia saw that it was not her dark, exotic mother, but someone who looked just like Nadia. The woman’s long, golden curls glistened all around her head, shimmering like ripened wheat in the sun. Her green eyes glowed with purpose. Her soft, pink lips were parted in surprise. Was this yet another version of herself coming forward to greet her?
Reason struggled to emerge through the dense fog that filled Nadia’s head, and all at once it struck her. Of course, this woman who looked just like Nadia would be her grandmother, Helene! Ex
citement mingled with joy as Nadia rushed forward to finally meet the woman she’d spent her childhood wondering about.
But something in her grandmother’s manner brought Nadia up short. She seemed to be radiating negative energy. Nadia felt an overwhelming sense of rejection. The woman appeared to be trying to tell Nadia something, but all that came through were faint echoes.
No! (no, no), the woman seemed to be calling out to her. Go back! (back, back)
Nadia hesitated. The light was oh, so enticing, but the woman at the center of it was frightening in her intensity. This was hardly the welcome Nadia expected. Discouraged, she turned her gaze away from the woman she assumed was her grandmother and looked back on the scene below. Blue Eyes still hovered over her body, trying harder than ever to revive her. She watched, a little startled by his persistence given the circumstances. An overwhelming feeling of sympathy flooded through her. She felt compassion for her lifeless body and the world it existed in. She felt torn, unsure of which direction to go. But the longer she watched the scene below the more intense her feelings—and the sense of being pulled in that direction—became. Still, she hesitated, looking up again at the light.
Return to him, the distant echo now seemed to be calling, and Nadia felt that the words conveyed more than their simple directive to return. The emphasis seemed to rest on the word ‘him.’ Nadia pondered this. To whom should she return? Surely her grandmother wasn’t referring to one of her kidnappers? No; more likely it was to her father that she should return. Or could it be Joe?
Whoever it was she would be returning to, it was clear that her grandmother wanted her to go back. This affected Nadia more than anything else. With her choice made, she could no longer resist the steady pulling sensation and—in the very next instant, it seemed—she found herself gasping and sputtering as all of her sensations returned at once.
Nadia blinked, still catching her breath, and was startled to find angry blue eyes glaring down at her. Only this time they were attached to a real face. Her mind was still foggy, but the initial effect of whatever drug they gave her seemed to be wearing off. She realized that they had all removed their masks.
One of the other men—the Indian—unbound her hands and began to detach the chain that connected her to the floor.
“Leave it,” said Blue Eyes, never taking his eyes from hers.
“But…she isn’t the one,” said his friend.
“That only makes her something worse,” Blue Eyes replied disgustedly. His eyes bored into her, making her feel even more uncomfortable, but she couldn’t seem to look away. “Get up,” he said.
Nadia made an effort to obey, but she was so weak she could hardly move. Blue Eyes jerked her up and led her to the faded orange couch, where she gratefully collapsed. Her limbs felt like jelly. She tried to clear her head. The men brought chairs over, scraping them loudly on the floor and sat facing her. There was a long silence while they all just stared at her. What now, they seemed to be wondering. Nadia tore her gaze from the accusatory stare of Blue Eyes to inspect the other two men without their masks. One appeared to be Indian, just as his accent suggested, and the other was African American.
“We should call in someone else,” said the Indian in perfect English and Nadia stared at him in surprise. She could have sworn he had an Indian accent when he spoke before.
“There isn’t time,” replied Blue Eyes.
“But we’re not trained in this kind of interrogation,” he argued.
“We’ll make her talk,” replied Blue Eyes with a hard edge to his voice. Nadia gasped. What did they want from her?
“I’m gonna cut through the bullshit and get right to the point,” said Blue Eyes, speaking directly to Nadia this time. “We know something’s coming, and we know you’re involved. The only thing we don’t know…” here he glanced at his comrades, “anymore…is why.” His lips curled up in a snarl and his words were dripping with disgust. “Is it money?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nadia croaked out in a shaky voice. When she saw the look this response brought to his face she trembled, and her hands flew to her throat defensively. “I swear it! I don’t what you’re talking about!”
“We know that isn’t true,” he said. He smiled without a trace of humor. “We already know you’re working with them.”
“Working with who?” she asked. Was this about that Pakistan thing after all?
The smile remained, but his eyes were like cubes of ice. “It isn’t really who, is it?” he asked, watching her face very carefully. “It’s what.”
Nadia just stared at him, more confused than ever. She thought of the shimmering light outside and wondered once again if this had something to do with aliens.
“Until a few minutes ago,” he continued, “We were ninety-nine point nine percent certain that you were one of them.” He kept examining her as he spoke, as if he would extract the answers from her expression if he had to.
“One of…who?”
“What,” he corrected her.
Nadia ransacked her mind, though she didn’t even know what she was looking for. What was all this about? These men had just put her through some kind of ritual that nearly killed her and now they were talking about a ‘what’ instead of ‘who’ that she was supposed to be in cahoots with. Was this some kind of cult thing? Was it possible that these men were crazy? They didn’t seem crazy, but strange beliefs made people do strange things. She tore her gaze away from Blue Eyes again to examine his Indian friend. His accent seemed to come and go, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t from India. She’d spent a lot of time there and knew the people to be quirky and highly superstitious. Yet she couldn’t think of any Indian superstition that would explain what was happening here. She looked at the African American. He just narrowed his eyes at her menacingly.
Nadia could see that Blue Eyes was growing impatient. “I swear to you that I don’t know who or what you’re talking about!” she cried. The effects of the drug were almost gone now and Nadia’s head was beginning to throb. If only they would give her something to eat and allow her to rest for a while. But she could see from her interrogator’s expression that he was only getting started.
“Ask about her grandmother,” suggested the Indian.
“My grandmother!” Nadia jerked back and gaped at him in astonishment. The episode with her grandmother was still fresh in her mind, even though she realized it was just a hallucination brought on by whatever drug they’d given her. But for him to mention it—“What about my grandmother?” she demanded. “Tell me why you asked about her!”
“You’re the one who’s going to answer the questions,” Blue Eyes cut in. “And if you don’t…” he stopped in mid-sentence, looking at her with such hatred she actually flinched. When he continued he spoke very slowly, emphasizing every word. “If you don’t answer our questions and so much as one person gets hurt, I swear to god I will kill you so slowly and painfully that you’ll be praying for it to be over!” Nadia gasped. She got the sense that he would not only do what he threatened but that he would enjoy it.
“I…” Nadia hesitated when she saw his expression darken even more. She was terrified, but what could she do? She couldn’t even make something up because she had no idea what they were looking for. She tried pleading with him. “If you would just tell me what you want to know....”
“He wants to know about the attack, bitch,” said the African American, entering the conversation for the first time.
“Yeah, and while you’re at it, you might want to tell us where the djinn is,” added the Indian.
Nadia stared at them dumbly. “Attack? Gin?” Her memory stirred. Thoughts of her grandmother were still close at hand. Her expression slowly changed as dawning gradually came. She looked at Blue Eyes in astonishment. “Djinn!” she exclaimed, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice. “The djinn? As in the mystical creatures of Arabian Nights?” A new terror was seizing her. She’d been kidnapped by three psych
opaths who somehow got wind of her grandmother’s obsession with Arabian folklore. But how did they hear about her grandmother’s stories? And why had Nadia had a hallucination of her grandmother just a few moments before?
Maybe it hadn’t been a hallucination. Maybe Nadia really did experience an out-of-body experience and her grandmother was as delusional in the afterlife as she had been in real life.
Or maybe her grandmother’s stories were true.
Nadia had the sudden urge to laugh. She couldn’t quite bring herself to accept that these men were serious. Yet their expressions seemed perfectly serious. And determined. She got the distinct impression that they were not willing to negotiate on this point. So how could she prove that she wasn’t mixed up in something that wasn’t even real?
Yet there might be hope after all, Nadia suddenly realized, provided her captors believed as fully as they appeared to. In fact, this could be the opportunity she’d been waiting for! She still had a clear memory of the stories that had been so meticulously passed down to her mother—and later to her. How could she ever forget? The stories chronicled the most significant moments of her grandmother’s life, but as they would appear in a DC Comic, enhanced with all kind of wild adventures. Even as a child Nadia had balked at some of the more fantastic details—such as those involving the djinn—the same way she balked at Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. She knew that the djinn were a big part of Arab folklore and figured that that was what inspired her grandmother. All of her research in college seemed to confirm this. Nadia still found the stories fascinating, of course, because they were about her grandmother, who was herself something of a mystical being in Nadia’s eyes. She had never been permitted to meet Helene Trevelyan in person. But she would never forget the first time she saw her in an old, faded Polaroid—the only picture Nadia’s mother had—so worn it was coming apart at the edges. What intrigued Nadia most about her grandmother was the remarkable resemblance she shared with the woman. It was like looking into a mirror that revealed the future. Nadia used to stare at the picture while her mother’s low, melodious voice poured out one story after another. Sometimes Nadia imagined that it was all happening to her, for Helene Trevelyan didn’t quite seem real. She would examine every detail of the picture with secret satisfaction, thinking this was how she would look one day. She took in the large, curious green eyes, the simple, straightforward nose and the delicate, full lips, noting the subtle overbite that took the edge off her grandmother’s beauty and gave it a soft, vulnerable sweetness. Even the wild, white-blonde curls that sprang out in all directions—they were pulled back off her face with a headband in the picture—only enhanced her charm and gave her the look of a mystical princess. She seemed not quite of this world. Her expression was ethereal and dreamlike, just like her stories, and seemed to carry the promise of exciting adventures to come. Nadia couldn’t wait to grow up. She embraced her turbulent curls, frizz and all, and flat out refused to wear braces, satisfied that everything would turn out just as it was intended to.