Sunrise Destiny

by Mark Terence Chapman

  Could it be that simple? I thought about how nice it would be to feel the cool night air on my face, and a moment later I could. The threl pulled back all its tendrils. I had gotten so used to them that I’d completely forgotten they were there.

  They felt almost as creepy coming out as they had going in. The difference was that this time I was prepared for the sensation and not fearing for my life. The threl formed itself back into the washcloth-sized thing Karsh had originally handed me. I pulled it off my face, folded it up and put it in my shirt pocket for later use. My eyes itched like I’d spent hours in a smoke-filled room, but other than that I felt fine.

  I walked to the parking lot where I’d left my car, leaving Karsh at the shoreline. My plan was to bring the car close to shore, load the girls in and take them to various public places near several hospitals. Then I’d place anonymous calls for help and let the ambulances work their magic. The ambulances would be there within a few minutes and the girls would be taken care of. All except for Sara, of course. I would take her directly to the hospital and call Scar to meet me there.

  The plan seemed simple enough and reasonably foolproof—which, of course, is exactly why it failed almost immediately.

  Karsh and I were going to go back to his ship for the first girl as soon as I arrived with the car. We didn’t bring the girl with us because she first had to be removed from the stasis pod, and we didn’t want to risk that until we knew that everything was ready to go. She could survive for only so long without either being treated or put back in stasis.

  That was when I discovered my car was gone. Stolen or towed away, I didn’t know. But I found myself rotating there in the parking lot with my mouth open like a drooling idiot—as if turning in place for the fourth time would make my car suddenly appear in the vacant lot.

  Now that I was no longer underwater, my implant worked again. A tickle behind my ear reminded me to check for messages. I should have thought to do that immediately after leaving the ship.

  There was a series of messages from Weasel the evening before, reminding me of the looming deadline and growing increasingly threatening. One final message after the deadline expired summed it up nicely: “You’re a dead man, Sunrise.”

  It wasn’t unexpected. Nonetheless, it sent shivers up my spine. I knew how Scar operated, after all. Still, I was sure I’d be in his good graces again once I let him know I’d found the girls and that Sara was alive and safe. The problem was I couldn’t tell him that yet, because he’d insist I take her to him immediately. So, I couldn’t call him until after I dropped off the four most urgent cases.

  I also received an urgent message from Lola: “Sunrise, baby, you’d better lay low. Scar’s gunnin’ for you. You pissed him off sumthin’ bad. Call me if I can help.”

  Lola was a good friend. I could always count on her, even with the threat of Scar looming.

  The final message was from Citywide Impound, letting me know where to pick up my car—after paying the $550 impound fee. Terrific. Still, it was better than having the car stolen. At least I could get it back—although the fee sounded like grand theft auto to me.

  After informing Karsh that there would be a delay, I summoned a taxi and headed for the impound lot. I retrieved my car and then returned to the bay to meet up with Karsh. It took more effort than I expected to get the girl out of the ship, into the small boat I’d borrowed from shore and from there into my car. The girl, a wan brunette, didn’t look good. Keldor assured me that if she got treatment within an hour or so she should be fine.

  That assumed, of course, that he knew enough about human physiology to be sure. I wasn’t as certain.

  I followed my original plan to the letter. It was the wee hours of the morning, so I wasn’t too worried about anyone driving by, but you never knew. I took the girl to a bus stop half a block from North Shore hospital and placed the emergency call. When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, you learn some tricks. Not only is my implant not something in common use, it’s also customized with some nifty—if not entirely legal—features, including a voice scrambler and a call anonymizer. The former made it impossible to identify my voice, and the latter made it impossible to trace the call back to my implant.

  I told the hospital where to find the girl and that she needed an immediate infusion of packed red blood cells. Then I skedaddled before the ambulance or the cops could arrive.

  I repeated the process with the second girl, leaving her on a park bench two blocks from Bradbury Memorial on the other side of town.

  Because I was still at risk from Scar’s goons, should they happen to stumble over me before I retrieved Sara, I placed a call to Scar’s implant. My call was blocked.

  I tried Weasel next. He answered.

  “You got some nerve, Sunrise, after skippin’ out like that. I’m looking forward to ripping your gonads out one after the other with a rusty fork, and then feedin’ them to you covered in Tabasco sauce.”

  My ‘nads drew up into my body in response to the visual image. “Forget all that, Weasel! I found Sara and the other missing girls. They’ll all be fine after some patching up. It’ll take me an hour or so to get Sara, but I know where she is. Tell Scar I’ll call him when I have her and let him know where to meet me.”

  Weasel’s voice lost some of its certainty, and the sadistic glee was replaced with something approaching craftiness.

  “Tell ya what, Sunrise. You tell me where you are, an’ I’ll come get you. You can tell the boss where Sara is in person.”

  Weasel might be evolutionary leaps ahead of Tiny, but he still wasn’t the sharpest—or most subtle—goon in the world.

  “Yeah, sure, Weasel. I’ll just walk up to you so you can plug me and play the hero for Scar. No thanks. I’ll call him as soon as I have Sara and let him know which hospital I’m heading for.”

  Weasel’s response was a string of curse words I won’t repeat. Then the connection dropped.

  Karsh and I retrieved the third girl. I deposited her near Our Lady of Grace Baptist Hospital and placed the call. So far, so good. Three down and twenty-three to go.

  * * * *

  I dropped off the fourth girl, a skinny redhead, at Kensington Regional and returned for Sara. I was cheerful at this point. Not only was I rescuing the girls and helping out the Azarti—who had nowhere else to turn—but I was also about to get out from under Scar’s death sentence. Talk about a win-win. Things were looking up for the first time in over a week.

  A death sentence was something Karsh and I had in common, although mine seemed almost trivial by comparison. For one thing, it affected only me, not a shipload of friends and family, and I had an escape clause, unlike Karsh and his people.

  As we loaded Sara’s pale form into my car, I finally had a chance to tell Karsh that I’d been investigating the disappearances of the girls when I discovered his ship. He was surprised to learn that it wasn’t a purely accidental meeting.

  Then I proceeded to fill him in on the details of Scar’s “offer I couldn’t refuse.” I felt almost embarrassed explaining my situation to Karsh, as if I were whining to someone with a terminal illness about some bully beating me up on the playground.

  Karsh could easily have belittled me and my situation. Instead, he was gracious.

  [I am sorry to hear of your problem. Given how you are helping to save my people, we would be most pleased to assist you in any small way we are able. We are in your debt. Besides, we are the cause of your current precarious situation.]

  I waved off his offer, perhaps a bit too cavalierly. [Thanks, but I have the situation almost resolved now. As soon as I drop Sara off at the hospital and her father sees that I returned her safely, my debt to him is paid and I’m safe. Once I’m done helping you, I’m out of this ‘burg for good.]

  [I am pleased that you will be safe. However, for as long as we remain on your planet, should you need our assistance simply transmit a message on this frequency.] He projected the appropriate frequency, and I store
d it away in my implant for reference. I had no plans to call him, but you never know when another friend might come in handy.

  I placed the call to Scar, letting him know that Sara and I were on our way to Temple Beth Israel Hospital. “We’ll be there inside of ten minutes. She’s going to be fine.”

  “That-that’s good news.”

  For a vicious mobster with the blood of more than a few people on his hands, Scar sounded suspiciously close to tears on the line. He thanked me and severed the connection.

  Earlier, after dropping off the third girl, I’d started to get nervous that people would notice the reappearance of some of the missing girls and connect the dots. So I set my implant to monitor the police bands and public newsfeeds for keywords that might indicate that someone was putting two and two together. That would mean I’d have to be more careful and change my MO for returning the rest of the girls.

  Much sooner than I’d hoped, my implant squawked and played back a police alert. “...be on the lookout for Donatello Discretion Sunrise of 339 Westwood Lane. He is believed to be driving an early model light blue Ford Coyote.” The stilted voice gave out my car’s license number.

  “He is wanted in the kidnapping of multiple victims. Approach with caution. He is believed armed and extremely dangerous. His last known location was….”

  Shit! They were on to me—but how? I chose that moment to glance up as I passed through an intersection. Traffic cams. Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Naturally the cops would check the traffic cams around the places where the girls were dropped off—and, come to think of it, many bus stops had security cams, too. Stupid! I was in such a rush to get all this behind me that I hadn’t thought it through. I immediately thought the command to disable the GPS function in my implant, so the cops couldn’t use it to find me.

  I’d hardly gotten my car back from the impound lot, and now I was going to have to dump it. But I still needed to get Sara to the hospital. How was I going to manage that? I decided to take a cab and hope the cabbie didn’t have a police scanner.

  Before I could even place the call, that option went out the window. My implant squawked again and played the audio from a television news report:

  “Police have just released details about what is being described as the largest series of kidnappings in history. This man,” the voice paused as they presumably showed my picture, “Donatello Sunrise, is believed to be behind the disappearances of more than two dozen young women. Four of them have just surfaced at area hospitals. Doctors say that each appears to be suffering from a form of anemia, however, doctors expect each of these women to recover fully. Police believe some sort of ritualistic bloodletting ceremony is behind the anemia. The suspect is considered extremely dangerous. If you see him, do not approach or attempt to apprehend him on your own. Call the police at the number on your screen. I repeat, this man is considered extremely dangerous. Do not attempt to apprehend him on your own.

  “Now, in national news…”

  Wonderful. First the police were after me, and now the rest of the world.

  I placed a call to my cop friend, Joel McCready. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message. “Joel? This is Sunrise. Look, I had nothing to do with those girls’ disappearances. I found them and I was trying to return them discreetly. That’s all. See if you can get the bluecoats off my ass, okay? I’ll fill you in on the details later, as much as I can.” I had no idea how I was going to explain Karsh to Joel.

  Then I called Lola.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Sunrise, sugar, yo’ in a heap o’ trouble.”

  “Tell me about it. Look, I had to lose the car. It’s too hot right now. Can you pick me up? I have to take Sara Scarpacci to her old man post haste. She needs to get to a hospital and I can’t show my face in public anymore.”

  “You want me to drop her off for you?”

  “No. I don’t want to get you involved in all this. I’ll take care of it with Scar.”

  “Lover, I’m already involved once I pick you up.”

  “I know, Lola, and I’m sorry. But I’ll be in even bigger trouble if Sara dies.”

  “I’ll be right there. Where do you want to meet?”

  I gave her the directions, and then I called Scar again.

  “Look, Scar, I can’t take Sara directly to the hospital. The cops are looking for me.”

  “I heard.” Something about his voice wasn’t right. He was too calm for someone who had just seen that particular bit of news.

  “Scar, the cops have it all wrong. I had nothing to do with the kidnappings. I’m just returning the girls to get them treated.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry about it. All I care about is getting Sara back safe.”

  The saccharine in Scar’s voice sent up red flags, but I didn’t have time to worry about unruffling his feathers. I just wanted to be sure Sara would get to a hospital in time.

  “Meet me at the corner of Burroughs and Clarke in ten minutes. Sara’s with me. You’ll need to make sure she gets to a hospital soon.”

  “Of course, Sunrise. I’ll be there. Listen, you’re going to have to get out of town quick. Do you need some money?”

  Money. I hadn’t even though about what I was going to do once I returned all the girls. Now I wasn’t even sure I could do that safely. “Uh, yeah. I guess I could use some. Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do. Just bring my Sara back to me.”

  “Don’t worry; you’ll have her back in a few minutes.”

  I cut the connection just as Lola drove up. She and I carried the still-unconscious Sara to Lola’s car and laid her out in the backseat. I told Lola where to go, knowing we’d arrive at least five minutes before Scar could.

  “When we get there, I want you to walk over to the coffee shop on Chestnut and wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as Scar leaves. If anything gets hinky I don’t want you anywhere near the car. Got it?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “No buts. Just do it.”

  “Look, lover, you don’t hafta worry ‘bout me. That Scarpacci come down ta my ‘hood, I call a posse down on his ass faster’n you can say Wyatt Earp! I got connections.”

  “Maybe so, but I still don’t want you getting caught in the middle of this. I’m serious.”

  She didn’t look happy, but she agreed. She parked at the designated spot and I watched her walk across the street and around the corner. Now I just had to wait for Scar.

  His big black sedan pulled up behind me moments later. He, Weasel, and Tiny got out and approached Lola’s car. I stepped out and onto the sidewalk.

  “She in the car?” Scar asked.

  I nodded. “In the backseat,” I said, pointing.

  “Excellent. Boys?” He pointed his chin at the car and the two goons opened the door and lifted Sara out. Scar put two fingers to her throat to feel for a pulse and then stroked her cheek. For a moment he was just a relieved father, not the ruthless head of organized crime for the entire region. He nodded toward his sedan and the two goons carried Sara there and placed her in the back.

  “Now,” Scar said, smiling, “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

  He reached inside his jacket pocket and for a moment I expected him to pull out a pistol. Instead, he held a manila envelope large enough to surround a thick wad of cash. He stepped toward me, holding it out for me to take. I relaxed and reached for it.

  That’s when he sucker-punched me in the gut. I doubled over, retching, unable to catch my breath. An uppercut had me seeing stars. I flopped over on my back and he kicked me in the crotch. I gagged. Then he dragged me over to the car by my collar and belt and slammed me headfirst into the door.

  Right before everything went black, I heard him say, “That’s for hurting my Sara, you worthless sonofabitch. Say hello to Jimmy Hoffa for me.”

  Chapter Six

  I was drowning, gasping for air, choking.

  I opened my eyes just in time to hold my breath as Tiny hurled ano
ther bucketful of frigid water my way, ice cubes and all. I hadn’t expected to ever open my eyes again, but apparently Scar had decided he wasn’t quite done with me yet.

  “Welcome back, Sunrise.” The icy calm in Scar’s voice was far more frightening than fire and brimstone would have been.

  After a moment of disorientation, shaking the water from my face, I became aware of my surroundings. It appeared I was in a corner of a vacant warehouse. There was nothing around me but Scar, Tiny, Weasel, and a table full of scary looking implements: knives, ice picks, saws, pliers, chains and other things I didn’t even want to think about.

  A moment later, I realized that I was cold, naked, and tied to a chair. My shirt was ripped open and my pants and shorts were down around my ankles. My feet were bare and sitting in a puddle. I immediately tried to call Lola, the police, anyone to get me the hell out of there. All I got was static.

  “If you’re doin’ what I think you’re doin’, don’t bother.” Scar held up a small palm-sized device. “This jammer scrambles all incomin’ or outgoin’ calls in a fifty-foot radius. No one’s comin’ for you.”

  Damn. “What the hell’s going on, Scar?” I tried to put up a bold front, but that’s difficult when you’re naked, cold, and…well…shriveled.

  Tiny delivered a swat worthy of The Babe himself to the side of my head. “Da boss don’ like dat name!”

  I spat blood. “Sorry. I forgot. What the hell’s going on, Mister Scarpacci?”

  “You can drop the bravado, Sunrise. It won’t do you any good. You won’t be leaving here alive.”

  If I was shriveled before, I now gave new meaning to that word.

  “What are you talking about? I brought your daughter back to you. I rescued several girls already. I can save them all. I know where the rest are.”

  “I’m sure you do, you twisted sicko! I’m gonna make you pay for every moment of horror you put those girls through.”

  Talk about the psychopathic pot calling the kettle black!

  “I’m telling you, Scar—Mr. Scarpacci—it wasn’t me. You wanted me to find your daughter. I discovered that she was one of a bunch of missing girls. I looked for them and I found them. You should be thanking me!”