The Trouble on Highway One

by Anne McClane

Sitting at work, Lacey tried to focus on the positive aspects of her New Orleans trip. She could only find two. One, she knew a little more about Gus Savin, though that felt more like “beneficial” than truly “positive.” The second thing felt really positive: it put the end date of this seemingly interminable production that much closer. The reshoots with Jason Booker were complete. She didn’t think it was because he was such a competent actor. She figured it was because she wasn’t the only one who was ready for it all to end.

  Neither Marco nor Eli were on set when Lacey returned on Monday morning. Kandace and Hunter were orbiting around the soundstage, in circles that never intersected. Each would ask Lacey for the same report, sometimes only minutes apart. Lacey would email it to each of them, separately. At this point, it was easier to just oblige than to point out the inherent inefficiencies caused by the overall breakdown in communication.

  Kandace had asked Lacey to come in on Saturday. With less than eight days to go, Lacey slept in that morning, took a leisurely walk with Ambrose, and decided she’d get to the soundstage when she got there.

  I could get used to short-timing like this.

  Her sense of calm left her when she saw Eli’s car in the parking lot. He had told her he’d be back on Tuesday, and that they could finish up any loose business then. Lacey had been steeling herself, working on the phrasing of her questions, determined to finally ask him about her vision on the ridgeline. She had been working on tamping down the fear the vision inspired, but still wasn’t sure what she felt about Eli’s abilities. His powers of persuasion, she had deemed it.

  But she had thought she still had three days to prepare. She wasn’t ready.

  And she definitely wasn’t ready for what she saw next.

  As she entered the building and crossed over to her workstation, she saw Eli talking to someone in the hallway that led to the offices. An oxford blue button-down with French cuffs, navy blazer hooked over his shoulder. Floppy hair cut in a style meant for someone younger. Gus Savin.

  Lacey cut a hard right, hoping not to be seen. She made it to her workstation, a knot in her throat, heart beating fast. She stared at the blank screen of her monitor for about a minute, until she worked up the nerve to turn it on and pull up a reporting page. So it would at least appear that she was working.

  Another two minutes after that, she found the nerve to turn her head toward the hallway. They were gone. She could see the light on in Kandace’s office, but she wasn’t about to head over there. Right there at her workstation was where she was expected to be. Kandace could come to her if she wanted something.

  Waiting for Kandace to come to her was a bit of a problem, because she had no idea why she had asked her to come in. She sent Kandace an instant message—something innocuous so that she would at least know Lacey was in the building.

  No response.

  Lacey was getting ready to go see Horatio at the front gate, just to get her mind off whatever the heck was happening, when Hunter, of all people, came to her rescue.

  He strolled in, looking like a completely new man. Head held high, he walked straight over to Lacey’s desk. He’d gotten a haircut, and some telltale redness and leftover cleanser made it appear that he might have even had a facial.

  “Since you’re here, can you pull a payroll preliminary? Email it over as soon as you can.”

  He turned around before Lacey could answer. “Sure,” she said to his back. His neck had been shaved, too.

  It was the same report she had sent yesterday, but she was happy to have something to do.

  Not long after that, Kandace eventually surfaced and sent a few requests over the course of an hour and half, but they only marginally helped pass the dragging time.

  Lacey was actually paying attention to something on screen, making sure she’d clicked all the right boxes, when she jumped at the sound of Eli’s voice.

  “Lacey.”

  She whipped her head around. Eli was directly behind her, placid as ever. And alone, thankfully.

  “Eli. You scared me.”

  “Seems I’m pretty good at that.”

  You don’t know the half of it. Or, I guess you probably do.

  Of the one thousand, seven hundred and thirteen questions running through her head, all she could think to say was, “What’s up?”

  “You have time to take a ride?”

  “Sure.” Despite her best attempts, her voice cracked on the word.

  Eli’s driving no longer scared her. It was his other traits—and seeing him meet with Gus Savin—that put her on alert.

  “Let me just finish the report I’m doing here, and tell Kandace.”

  “I already told her.”

  “Of course you did.”

  Lacey saved her work, grabbed her purse, and followed Eli out of the studio.

  She did not get the chance to ask Eli where they were headed. As soon as he pulled his truck out onto the road, Eli began pouring his heart out, and it sent Lacey’s mind reeling. All of his sharing was done in a very Eli-like way: measured words, calm tones, absolutely no hand gestures. Which was preferable, since he was driving.

  He told her how he’d been recruited as a fighter as a young boy in Kurdistan. How he had followed his father and older brother into the only life they’d ever known. How his mother had shown him how to read people, how it was the only way he would survive. Her gift of prescience had told her Eli would have a life outside of that land. A life that would go on long after her life, and her husband’s, and her older son’s had all been snuffed out.

  “My father died when I was twelve. Fragment from a mortar round caught him in the neck. My brother and I watched him bleed out.”

  Lacey had a hard time comprehending the words coming from Eli’s mouth. It was a reality that only existed for her in the movies, or on the news. It couldn’t be the reality of an enigmatic man she’d been following around on a movie set for the past two months. Could it? And why was he being so open about it now?

  “I left Kurdistan when I was seventeen. That was the day I told you about, the day of the earthquake. We were eating a midday meal at our mother’s when it struck. She had asked us to come. She knew it would be the last day she would see either of us.

  “Later that same day, I saw my brother shot in the head at point-blank range.”

  He fell silent after uttering those words. His voice never faltered as he delivered all of this information.

  “I had no other option but to run, and leave my home. I knew it was time. My mother and I had already said our goodbyes.”

  Lacey rubbed her palm beneath her eyes. She longed for a tissue. Once she was sure he was done, she asked, “Eli, why . . . ?”

  “Why am I telling you this?”

  Lacey nodded her head vigorously. She was too choked up to speak.

  “Because I know my past is something you’ve wondered about. And because there’s now reason for you to know about it. No one can ever know the whole truth about another person, but it was time for you to have a wider lens on me.”

  Eli pulled into the parking lot of the resort. “Are you up for a short hike?”

  She nodded, less vigorously.

  They walked in silence, Lacey a pace behind Eli. After a minute, she realized where they were heading.

  “I’m not wearing a bathing suit, Eli.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to disrobe,” he answered. “And you’ve almost mastered that lesson.”

  I have?

  “Yes, you have. Your ‘homework’ exercise helped you figure it out. Just remember to put some distance between your focus and your particular worries. Detach from yourself, and you’ll have it down shortly.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  Eli stopped and turned to look at her.

  Lacey shrugged. “Stupid question, I guess.”

 
I might finally be past the worry about him being in my head. Huh.

  They stopped at the hot tub where Eli’s lesson had been interrupted. And just a stone’s throw from where Lacey had her vision. The wind rustled through the trees.

  A faint whiff of sulfur, mixed with a stronger touch of eucalyptus, was oddly calming.

  “I asked Gus Savin to meet me at the soundstage today,” Eli said.

  A gust of clarity finally helped Lacey find the words she’d wanted to ask Eli all along.

  “Eli, what do you know about him?”

  “Enough to know he needed some misdirection. That’s what I attempted today. I believe I was successful, but I don’t know how long it will last.”

  “You mean misdirection, like that thing you did with Allison?”

  “Similar.

  “You think you have no enemies, Lacey. That you’ve done nothing in your life that would facilitate the production of enemies. But by the nature of your gift, you’ve acquired enemies. Something like natural enemies.”

  “Superfoes?” Lacey said out loud.

  “I don’t recommend making light of this, Lacey.”

  “I’m not. I don’t think I am. I’m just trying to process this. Did Gus Savin kill Birdie?”

  “I don’t know that, because I don’t know Birdie. I just know that Savin has his . . . Superfoe . . . powers through acquisition. I suspect this has given him unnaturally long life. I know that he takes from others, and will continue to do so as long as he finds those with . . . abilities.”

  “Eli. Do you remember what you said about spooky . . . about action at a distance?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think Birdie is my action at a distance. I feel some sort of effect from her, even though she was gone long before I was even born. And I think Gus Savin killed Birdie. I think he took her power from her.”

  Eli considered. “Then it is good I attempted to get him off your scent.”

  Lacey went pale at the thought of being hunted. “I don’t want Superfoe enemies. I want to be a paramedic.”

  Eli let out a sound she’d never heard before. He laughed. A warm, mirthful laugh.

  “That was funny, Lacey.”

  “Really?” What about it was funny?

  “It was the way you said it. It struck my funny bone.”

  Okay . . .

  “For as much as my endorsement means, I think you pursuing emergency medical training is a great idea. The perfect outlet for your abilities.”

  “But what about enemies? What if Gus Savin . . . picks up my scent? How can I go about my life with him out to get me?”

  “You must not let the existence of enemies alter your choices. My father was killed by an enemy outside our ranks. My brother was killed by an enemy within our ranks. But I did not leave my land because that enemy had me in his sights next. I left because I believed I was meant to have an effect elsewhere. To help people—other Superfriends, let’s say—receive the guidance they need. This is something that would not come to fruition if I stayed. I honored my mother, and my family, by the choice I made.”

  There was something impassioned in his tone, almost like he was trying to convince himself. Lacey tried to put everything Eli was telling her into the right context.

  “So, you’re saying I should go forth and EMT? And just because I’m naturally paranoid, it doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get me?”

  He laughed again, a little less forcefully. “Some paranoia is healthy. I recommend you hang onto it.”

  Lacey sank to the ground and rubbed her temples. “I still don’t know why I am the one who received this power. You wouldn’t happen to know the answer to that, would you?”

  “No. I think you’d need to ask the one who bestowed the power. If there is any reason at all. Action at a distance does not require a reason.”

  “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

  “Lacey, you are a good person, with a purer heart than most. Who will do good works with the gift you’ve been given. Might that not be reason enough?”

  Lacey blushed at the entirely unexpected praise. “Those might be the nicest words I’ve ever heard come from your mouth.”

  “I wouldn’t have said them to you if they were not the truth.”

  “Thanks for all this, Eli. Here I was thinking maybe you were raised on another planet, only to find out you spent your childhood witnessing atrocities I can’t even fathom. And that the King of Carnival, who might just happen to have vampire-like long life, wants to kill me, because I have something he needs.”

  “He doesn’t know you have this power yet. He senses it, like a pig rooting for truffles, but he hasn’t connected the dots yet. My efforts may have bought you some time. But I don’t know how much.”

  “What if I don’t return to New Orleans? What if I do my EMT training somewhere else?” Lacey wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. Because everything Eli had laid on her made her more homesick than ever.

  “It may offer a little time, perhaps. But there are no guarantees. And I stand by my words: you can’t let enemies alter your choices.”

  Lacey thought of a quote from the Terminator movies: “No fate but what we make.” She was bolstered by the sentiment. But then she remembered that the cyborgs did eventually get the upper hand in those movies, and went right back to square one.

  “Are you up for one final lesson?”

  “That depends. Is it about Superfriends, or Superfoes?”

  “Neither. But I think you’ll like this one. Look up.”

  Lacey lifted her head. The sun was rapidly descending behind the tree line. Golden light filtered toward them, horizontally. The sky behind them turned pink.

  “Watch the sun rise and set, whenever you can,” Eli said.

  “That’s the lesson?”

  “Yes.”

  She settled into her spot, folding her arms across her chest. Long, bright lines grew around them, the light the trees let through. She and Eli stood shoulder-to-shoulder, the light reflecting off Eli’s smooth head. She imagined Eli was a modern-day Buddha. She snuck a look at his face, and realized she didn’t need to imagine it.

  “I can live with that one. You’re my favorite Superfriend right now, Eli.”

  They waited until the sun sunk beneath the ocean. She felt her trust in Eli grow as darkness fell. Walking back in silence to Eli’s truck, Lacey realized how much she would miss him when she returned to New Orleans. Permanently.

  EPILOGUE

  Two days later, Lacey watched the sun set with Trevor. He had shown up, unannounced, at the soundstage. Once Horatio had cleared him, Trevor garnered sideways glances from Kandace and Hunter. Lacey hadn’t cared, and left early, as soon as he’d arrived.

  They returned to Taverna, the same seaside restaurant where they’d had their first “date.” The thrill of the unknown was gone, but their time together was back to being easy. And “Mr. Right Now” was just what she needed. Right now. She’d decided to let go of the rest and have some fun for her few remaining days in California. She needed to heal herself from her heartbreak.

  She needed someone who knew nothing about her abilities. Someone who didn’t care about what she was going to do with her life. Someone who might have been concerned if she told him someone was out to get her, but there was no reason to do such a thing. Not when the wine was flowing, the sun was setting the ocean ablaze, and her troubles felt like they were beyond that golden-blue horizon. And the promise of a harmonica serenade was in her future.

  This time, they never made it back to the room. In the thick sand behind a dune, they fell into each other, laughing from the wine and the effort. His teeth brushed her ear, and she repositioned herself underneath him.

  Trevor looked her in the eyes and smiled. “Ready for some sex on the beach, love?”

 
; Maybe California hasn’t been so bad, after all. Some positives, certainly.

  Lacey smiled, then her eyes lit up at something she saw in the distance.

  “What is it?” Trevor turned his head.

  A shower of shooting stars was lighting up the sky.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ANNE McCLANE writes sci-fi and paranormal fiction. She is a New Orleans native who spent sixteen years out west before returning home to embrace the mysteries of the Mississippi River Delta. She has many years experience in publicity, public relations, and marketing, which has provided a fine primer for writing about the speculative, abnormal, and outrageous.

  You can find her science fiction stories on Amazon, in the anthology Just a Minor Malfunction… . Learn more at her website: AnneMcClane.com

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE TRAITEUR TRILOGY:

  Book One: The Incident Under the Overpass—Lacey Becnel discovers she’s obtained supernatural powers, under extraordinary circumstances

  Book Three: The Conclusion on the Causeway—Back home in New Orleans, Lacey finds her calling