Betrayed

by Francine Pascal

  “Shhh. Jesus freaking Christ,” he moaned from the floor, writhing around with his hand clamped over his eye. “Don’t be afraid to tell me how you really feel….”

  Gaia looked down at him again. Only this time, she looked a little closer. Actually…it was the first time she had really looked at all.

  “Ed…?”

  “No,” Ed groaned quietly from the floor. “I go by ‘Spineless Turd’ now. Christ, you can punch…. Owww.”

  “Oh my God, Ed.” Gaia collapsed down to the floor and cradled Ed, helping him up to a seated position. “I am so sorry. I thought you were…Wait a minute. How the hell did you know I was here?”

  “I know you,” he said with a sigh. “I knew you would stay over the second you said you were going to check in on Heather again. I would only have been surprised if you weren’t here. Face it, Gaia. You’re a compulsive savior.”

  “Gaia…?”Heather interjected with a deeply groggy voice. Waking from hospital sedation had been known to take hours. Gaia didn’t even know what kind of dose they were giving the poor girl, but it must have been just a step above horse tranquilizers. “Gaia, are you okay? What’s happening?”

  Gaia quickly propped Ed against the bed and leapt up to Heather’s side.

  Heather was still so utterly freaked out by her earlier attack, Gaia could hear the anxiety in her voice, even under heavy sedation. And why wouldn’t she still be freaked out? Gaia was probably the only person in the world who wouldn’t be.

  She couldn’t stand to see Heather like this. She honestly would have done just about anything to be back in school again, looking at Heather standing right in front of her, her hair hanging with that disgustingly perfect lilt as she bombarded Gaia with scathing insults about her poor hygiene and her choice of pants. Or perhaps she’d be engaged in one of those unbearable high-pitched group giggles with the FOHs. Anything would do. Any offensive scenario. Just as long as Heather could see it.

  “It’s okay, Heather,” she assured her. “It’s okay. It’s just Ed.”

  “Ed?” Heather whimpered with a faint smile. “Ed’s here? What time is it?”

  Gaia turned back to Ed with a sudden disapproving glare. Hadn’t they specifically agreed to refrain from any further contact until tomorrow? Had Ed just forgotten?“Yeah, Ed, what the hell time is it?”

  “Oh my God,” he moaned, gently removing his hand from his eye. “First of all, can we please keep it quiet so I don’t get thrown out of here? Second, where is the love, Gaia ? Can I get a wee bit more sympathy for your judo death chop before you go Gaia on me?”

  He had her on the judo death chop thing. She knelt back down in front of Ed and examined his wound. She touched her finger gently to the little red welt above his eye.

  “It’s a little after midnight,” he whispered, pretty much disarming every one of Gaia’s verbal weapons and defense mechanisms with his one and a half dark brown eyes and his scruffy head. “I brought snacks,” he added.

  He pointed his finger at a spot next to the door, where there was a small plastic shopping bag with the handles tied together. “Veselka,” he said. “I got potato pancakes, vegetable soup—”

  “Ed, what are you talking about?” Gaia squeaked quietly. “We can’t have a sn—”

  “Rice Krispies Treats…, ” Ed interrupted, staring reverently at the bag.

  Gaia froze and looked back at the bag. “You sneaky bastard,” she whispered, beginning to salivate at the thought of a hunk of butter, sugar, and dried rice. Not to mention the potato pancakes…There was no greater use of grease and potatoes than the potato pancakes at Veselka. Ed was no fool. He knew what he was doing.

  Gaia wished she could find the strength to send Ed home. She didn’t want him in this dangerous room. She didn’t want to rub their incredibly recent reconciliation in Heather’s face. She didn’t want her and Ed getting caught and thrown out of the room, leaving Heather in here all alone again and vulnerable….

  “You guys…?”Heather croaked. “Can I have a snack?”

  Something about Heather’s request for a snack nearly broke Gaia’s heart. But it was Ed’s confident smile that sealed the deal. He knew Gaia could no longer say no. He knew that Gaia wouldn’t dare deprive Heather—who was deprived right now of just about everything else in this world—the pleasure of a snack. She wasn’t that cruel.

  What he might not have known was that his bringing a midnight snack was probably the kindest, sweetest, most remarkable thing anyone had ever done for her since the age of twelve.

  “Okay,” she whispered, doing everything in her power not to grin with gleeful relief that Ed Fargo was back in her life. “One snack. But if they find us in here, then—”

  “Oh, no, not in here,” Ed corrected her.

  Gaia stared into his mischievous, if mildly swollen, eyes. “What do you mean, not here?” she asked flatly.

  “Can I have my snack now?” Heather chimed in.

  “Hold on, Heather,” Gaia replied impatiently before turning back to Ed. “Tell me now or you lose the other eye—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, grabbing her wrist and lowering her hand.

  God. Could she possibly be more embarrassed about how much she enjoyed just having his hand around her wrist? Gaia still couldn’t quite fathom what had slowly begun to happen to her regarding one Edward Fargo. Deprived of him for so unbearably long, it seemed that upon his return, she had begun to develop a thoroughly over-the-top, ultracheesy, schoolgirl-crush-style infatuation for her best friend. Wasn’t the infatuation supposed to come first? Before the sex? Before the friendship, even?

  It was just another example of Gaia’s life being in reverse as usual, but in this case it wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing.

  “I used to have to come to this hospital all the time to be tortured,” Ed explained. “So I figured out some of the better places to be alone—as in, to hide. And there was only one place where they never found me.”

  “Uh-huh…?”

  Ed stretched his head over Gaia’s shoulder, keeping his hand wrapped around her wrist. “Hey, Heather, do you feel like some fresh air?”

  Gaia slapped her hand quietly against Ed’s chest, chiding him with her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she whispered. “Heather can’t just walk outside. She’s hooked up to an IV. I don’t even know if she can walk.”

  “IVs roll,” Ed argued. “And so do people.” He pointed again, this time to the other side of the door, where Gaia hadn’t noticed a folded-up wheelchair. “A fine model,” he said. “One of my personal favorites. Great traction. Cruise control. Zero to sixty in roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Top of the line.” Ed stepped over to the closet and pulled Heather’s coat off the hanger. “So what do you say, Heather? A brief journey?”

  “Have you guys ever had hospital food?”Heather asked.

  “Uh…yeah?” Ed replied.

  “Right,” Heather said, her hands shaking slightly as she raised her voice. “Then you can understand why all I really care about right now…is my snack.”

  “Very good.” Ed smiled. “Well, then let’s get you up,” he said, turning to Gaia. “We’re going to the roof.”

  A Rattlesnake’s Tail

  “DO YOU HAVE EVERYTHING PREPARED for tomorrow morning?”

  Loki was standing at the window of the shoddy Brooklyn apartment. He stared out at the street full of boarded-up brownstones, lit only by the one street-lamp that hadn’t been shattered by some bored lowlife with a rock in his hand. He could barely remember why he’d ever cared for New York. Was it because he’d been born here? Probably. But that was in his prephobosan life, a life he hardly cared to remember.

  He turned back to Dr. Glenn, who was staring at him from behind the cracked desk. “Dr. Glenn? Are you listening to me? I asked you if we were prepared for tomorrow!” Still no reply. Loki’s frustration doubled. “Doctor! What is the matter with you? Have you gone deaf?”Loki smashed his hand next to the window, punching a gaping hole into the c
heap drywall as bits and pieces crumbled to the floor. He quickly grabbed his shaking hand and soothed the cramp out of it until the extremely annoying tremors stopped.

  “I am not deaf,” the doctor said, focusing his worried, analytical stare at Loki’s hand. “But I am extremely concerned, and I need you to start listening to me. You have been ignoring my warnings for the past three hours, and I hope you have noticed that the symptoms have only gotten progressively worse in that time.”

  “Nonsense,” Loki spat back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. A few minor cramps in my hands. My body is just adjusting to the drug.”

  “Do you want me to get a mirror?” the doctor asked. “Your face is crawling with facial tics. Can’t you feel the right side of your mouth twitching?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Haven’t you noticed your complete lack of emotional control?”

  “I’ve freed myself of fear-induced repression.”

  “They’re all side effects,” the doctor insisted. “Extremely severe side effects.”

  “Stop exaggerating, Doctor, you’re frustrating me.”

  “Why would I exaggerate? What reason would I have to lie to you?”

  “Jealousy, for one,” Loki barked, pounding his hand against the wall again and then latching onto it with his other hand to smooth out the tremors. “It’s a natural psychological phenomenon, Doctor. I see it all the time. We insult the things we envy. We nitpick and we criticize whatever it is we cannot be ourselves.”

  The doctor stepped much closer and took Loki’s wrist in his hand. “Your pulse is racing,” he said.

  “I’m excited.”Loki chuckled dismissively. “We’ve run into snags tonight, but things are finally moving smoothly. This will all be done with by tomorrow.”

  Loki pulled his wrist back, but the doctor wouldn’t let go. “Doctor…let go of my wrist.”

  “Not until you take a good look at it.”

  “Let go of me, Doctor…”

  “Look at your wrist.”

  Loki’s eyes darted down to his wrist, which was trembling in the doctor’s hand like a rattlesnake’s tail. “I said let go.”Loki shoved the doctor back two feet into the opposite wall.

  The doctor regained his balance and took a few steps away from Loki. “Listen to me now,” he said gravely. “Phobosan II is not even close to being ready for trial usage. In fact, judging by the inordinate speed at which the side effects are progressing, it’s clear to me that the second generation of the drug is far more dangerous than the first. I strongly recommend, in fact, I insist that you be administered the counteragent to the drug immediately.”

  Loki stepped toward the doctor with an incredible degree of menace in his eyes. “You do not insist, Doctor, is that clear? The only person in this room permitted to insist upon anything is me. And I will tell you what this mild little symptom is. It is a slight muscle spasm, that’s what it is. So you will provide me with a simple prescription for muscle relaxants, and we will be done with it. I insist.”

  The doctor took another step back and reached into the pocket of his lab coat, producing a small vial in the palm of his hand. “Please,” he said calmly. “I won’t insist, then. I will only plead with you, as a scientist and as the doctor who is responsible for the current state you’re in and every state that will follow. I only ask that you listen to what I have to say.”

  Loki sighed impatiently and thrust his troublesome hand into his pocket to keep it still. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

  “Sir, please listen,” Dr. Glenn said, trying to speak as quickly as possible to stay within his allotted time. “This one vial in my palm is the last remaining vial of the counteragent that we currently have, which is extremely odd considering the fact that I had two vials only hours ago. I may have misplaced one; I don’t know. But this being the last vial of the antidote only makes the situation that much more urgent. You need to understand—it takes a considerable amount of time to produce this counteragent, and I have yet to teach the exact formula to the other doctors on the team. That means this one vial is extremely, extremely valuable, and sir, given that vials seem to be disappearing, I am telling you that you want to take this counteragent right now before there are any incidents or accidents and there is suddenly no counteragent to take. Muscle relaxants will do absolutely nothing for you. And I can already predict for you what the next stage after this one will be. These spasms and tics are going to continue to progress at a rapid speed until paralysis begins to set in and then quite possibly coma, if not death. And sir, while the worst symptoms might not kick in for as much as a month, judging from the current rate of mental and physical deterioration, I am honestly afraid that these symptoms could set in as soon as the next twelve hours, if not sooner.”

  “Yes,” Loki said with a smile. “Well, that is just precisely the point, Doctor. You are afraid. And I am not.”

  “No, I don’t think you—”

  “I heard every word!” Loki snapped. “And now you will listen to me, Doctor. Here is what you are going to do. First, you will put that pitiful little vial back in your pocket or you can destroy it, I don’t care. Then you will answer my initial question. And once you have answered that question, you will run along to your lab and you will fetch me a bottle of muscle relaxants. Is that all clear enough for you?”

  “Sir—”

  “First…you will put that vial back in your pocket.”

  Loki took a large step toward him, and Glenn finally dropped the vial back in his lab coat pocket.

  “Good. Now, you will answer my initial question. Is everything ready for tomorrow morning?”

  “Sir, I just think—”

  Loki’s hand shot out of his pocket and lunged forward, grasping the doctor firmly around the neck as he slammed him up against the wall. “Enough!” he growled, pulling tighter on his neck. “You don’t speak out of turn anymore. You don’t talk back again. You shut your sniveling cowardly mouth unless you are asked a question. And when you are asked a question, Doctor, you answer it, or else I will continue to squeeze your flimsy little windpipe harder…and harder….”

  Loki watched as the doctor’s head shook more and more violently in his grip. He couldn’t even tell if it was the doctor’s pathetic fear making him shake or his own wildly convulsive hand holding his neck. Probably both.

  “All right,” the doctor choked out.

  “All right?” Loki double-checked. “You’re ready to answer my question now?”

  “Ready,”he said, his face turning a bright shade of red.

  “Good.” Loki let go of the doctor’s neck and watched as he nearly collapsed to the floor. “So then…is everything ready for tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes,” the doctor answered simply, keeping ten full paces between them and massaging his neck. “Yes, we’re ready to go.”

  Finally, the simple answer Loki had been waiting for. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Fine work, Doctor. Now, get along to your lab and get me some muscle relaxants. Something nice and strong.”

  “Yes, sir,” the doctor muttered submissively as he backed his way toward the door.

  “Perfect. And when you’re done with that, you get yourself a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  Loki opened the door for the doctor and then slammed it behind him. He put his right hand back into his pocket, but then the left hand began to shake slightly. Not a problem. He was quite sure the doctor would hurry with those pills.

  Romantic Movies

  WHAT AN IDEAL TIME FOR A PICNIC. Heather was at death’s door. Loki was enjoying a free-range reign of terror. Ed and Gaia had sworn to stay away from each other for the night. And nurses and security guards would most likely be storming the roof shortly to arrest the two of them for kidnapping an innocent blind girl from her hospital bed. So there was really only one legitimate way to cope with that much catastrophe and doom.

  Rooftop snacking. Greasy after-hours East Village fare, Cokes f
rom the hospital soda machine, a bizarrely cold night, and a bizarrely large moon.

  Gaia had sat herself down on the ledge of the desolate, tarred-over roof and clutched her potato pancake in both hands, eating it like a bunless hamburger as she stared out at the lit-up cityscape and the damn near cartoon moon. Fried grease and salty potato fluff had never tasted so delicious. Most likely because it was a gift from Ed.

  Yes, Ed had “provided” for her. And Gaia was too tired to pretend that didn’t feel like a very small gift from God. She hadn’t known until biting into the pancake just how starved she had been, not only for food, but for just a morsel of semitraditional human caretaking. Not that she needed anyone to take care of her. But how many times was she supposed to prove that fact before its rather obvious falsehood began to seep through the cracks of reality? Tonight she was in the mood to admit—to herself, that is—that ten minutes of being cared for could induce more absurd euphoria than ten days of self-sufficiency. No matter how much her life seemed to suggest the contrary, Gaia was in fact a human seventeen-year-old girl-person living on the planet Earth, who needed just exactly what the rest of the human girl-people needed. And that included the occasional thoroughly unexpected offering of greasy potato fluff by someone with eyes as kind and brown as Ed Fargo’s.

  Moonlight on a black-tarred hospital roof, Ed scrunched up next to her on the ledge with a can of Coke, and Heather quietly munching her own potato pancake as she sat in her wheelchair and ignored the rolling IV cart hanging over her head—assuming Loki’s attempts at mass extermination were far from over, this might just be as romantic as Gaia’s life was ever going to get. And that didn’t bother her one bit.

  She found about as much identification with the clichés from romantic movies as she did with the ones from the scary movies. She wasn’t exactly planning to roll down any grassy hills with Ed anytime soon, or sit out on the porch swing, or tussle in the waves of some stretch of white beach, or go ice skating hand in hand at Rockefeller Center….