Head Trip

by D. L. Line

  Shelby had to see for herself. Andrew squeaked and flinched a little when she snatched the printout from his hands. After a quick scan, she found the information she had been looking for. “Wanted for crimes ranging from shoplifting to extortion and murder. Deep-cover secret government operations. Terrorism. Jeez, Tasha.”

  “She was supposed to be your adversary, Ms. Hutchinson.”

  “Adversary?” In addition to being pissed, Shelby was beginning to feel stupid. “And I was her rube. I’m such an idiot. I fell for all of it. Hook, line, and sinker.” She could only sit and shake her head while she read the rest of it. She should have gone to the hostel and met Riley. Tasha was supposed to have been the distraction, the James Bond–style bad girl, definitely not someone to be trusted. Well, Shelby had been foolish enough to trust her, and look what happened. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She crumpled the paper and hurled it past Andrew toward the other side of the room.

  But Andrew apparently wasn’t ready to let it go. “Ms. Hutchinson, maybe you should have let me explain. I could have told you—” Andrew stopped, mid-sentence, when Shelby gave him her best don’t-you-dare-fucking-finish-that-sentence face. It seemed to work.

  “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” Shelby was done.

  “But, Ms. Hutchinson, you still have three days of vacation coming to you. I can hook you back in and you can go to a nice beach or something…”

  “I just want to go home.”

  “I can give you a credit on a gift card.”

  “Fine.” Shelby pushed herself to her feet. She was a little unsteady but waved aside Andrew’s offers of assistance. “I’m okay. It was just a small-caliber penetrating head wound sustained from point-blank range.” She gave him two thumbs up and an artificially bright smile. “We’re good. Just point me toward the locker room so I can get my stuff and get out of here.”

  “Of course.” He pointed in the general direction of Shelby’s belongings and scurried away to get her gift card.

  Shelby dressed quickly, grinning a little to herself as she buttoned up her old favorite jeans. They were loose and comfortable, and that was a good thing. What the hell had they been thinking in 1985? She grabbed her backpack from the locker, tossed her scrubs in the provided hamper, and pulled the door open to go settle things with Andrew.

  He welcomed her back, offering her a seat opposite him at a small desk. “Here’s your gift card.” He slid an envelope across the surface. “That’s good anytime. Just give us forty-eight hours’ notice if you want to use it so we can program your construct.” Shelby nodded. “Do you have any questions or concerns? Anything about the experience you found to be troubling or problematic?”

  “Besides the part where some random badass Russian babe makes me her bitch?” Shelby shook her head. “No, I’m clear on all of it. Well, there is one thing, when I woke up, my head hurt like hell where, you know…” Shelby gestured toward her forehead. “It still hurts a little. Is that normal? Will it go away?”

  “Oh, Ms. Hutchinson. There’s nothing to worry about.” Andrew smiled warmly. “Sometimes, especially when…well, when something bad happens and you get drawn out of the construct, other clients have complained the experience had been jarring and there was occasionally a phantom kind of pain, but they all reported they were fine and back to normal within the first twenty-four hours. Just take a couple of Advil if it gets worse and give us a call. You’ll be fine too, I assure you.” Andrew smiled again. “But if you have any problems at all, please contact us right away.”

  She couldn’t help but think he sounded a little bit like a used car salesman. There was one more small problem and Shelby was hesitant to bring it up. “Can I get a copy of the printout for my trip? Sorry about the, you know, freaking out and throwing it at you thing back there.”

  “No problem at all.” He leaned across the desk and offered her a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re not the only person who’s ever done that, so don’t feel bad. I’ll get you a data copy on a thumb drive too, then I’ll be right back and you can be on your way.”

  Shelby breathed out a long sigh of relief, happy with the thought she could leave soon. She felt a strong urge to be outside, but not outside on a dark rail platform in the middle of the night. Shelby was definitely done with that scenario. Andrew soon returned with a large envelope for her. They shook hands and she headed out the door and into the hallway.

  Shelby opted to blow off the elevator in favor of the steps and once outside, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah, Chicago. Home sweet home…brrr.” She shivered and pulled the zipper of her puffy green ski jacket up to her chin, all the while fighting the urge to spread her arms wide and spin on the sidewalk. It was good to be home.

  So good, in fact, Shelby felt like walking around downtown, maybe taking the long way home. Her vacation wasn’t supposed to end until early this evening, but hey, sometimes getting shot in the head can force a change of plans. Somehow, that thought didn’t make her feel better.

  Since it was only noon, Shelby decided to walk down North Halsted Street, with all its funky cool places to shop. Not that she’d ever bought anything there. Shelby tended a little more toward the pragmatic when it came to things like shopping for clothes, but that was not the case today. She stopped dead in her tracks in front of the funkiest vintage clothing store she’d ever seen. There it sat in the front window, and Shelby swore she could hear it calling out to her. A black leather bomber jacket.

  Go in, Shelby Hutchinson. Put on the jacket. It will make you look like an American tough guy.

  “Cool,” Shelby said with a smile as she pushed gently on the door and stepped inside.

  *

  Afternoon faded into evening while Shelby stared at her computer. Camped out on her sofa, elbows on her knees, laptop on the well-worn surface of the coffee table, Shelby stared at the screen. At the black-and-white digital image. At the dossier that was at some points frightening, but Shelby still felt compelled to read. Every word of it. Several times.

  She cocked her head and leaned forward to address the picture on the screen. “I trusted you. What did you do to me?” Despite her best hopes, Shelby didn’t figure she’d get much of an answer.

  With a frustrated huff, Shelby sank back into the worn cushions of her ratty sofa. She pulled her new leather jacket tighter around herself and idly rubbed at the left side of her forehead. It still hurt. She hoped Andrew had been right about it fading over time. “It’ll be fine in the morning.” Shelby comforted herself as she flopped onto her side and stretched out her legs on the sofa. Within minutes, she was asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  After a fitful night spent tossing on the sofa, Shelby startled awake when the alarm went off on her cell phone. She slapped at the coffee table, blindly searching for the damn thing. It was still dark outside, but Shelby reminded herself it was Chicago and it was January and it was also time to get ready for work. Shelby hauled herself off the sofa and stumbled into the bathroom. She was still tired, but she was also notoriously not a morning person.

  Ah, Shelby Hutchinson, you sleep like a dead thing.

  She snapped on the light in the bathroom and squinted at her reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I also fuck like an animal,” she muttered in her best phony Russian accent. “Whatever.”

  She was halfway to the train before she realized she had once again forgotten to wear a hat. She ruffled her hair and allowed her fingers to trail down to her forehead. It was still sore. Shelby leaned her head against the cool glass of the train window and took inventory. While her head didn’t hurt as much as it had yesterday, she was tired. “I suppose getting shot in the head might do that. It’ll be fine.” She stared at the commuters on her train, lost in their own concerns, and kept coming back to her own. It was an effort to lift her head from the frosty window. “Maybe I should call Andrew. Or maybe I should just stop being such a pussy.”

  Shelby walked the five blocks to the hospital, then up to the
Information Systems Department. Same old white walls, same old doorways, no spies or double agents or duffel bags loaded with weapons of mass destruction.

  The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, just like it always did, and Shelby stepped off and turned down the long hallway leading to her office. Jake was already here. She could hear him checking the messages from the night shift. He didn’t even look up from his notes when she poked her head in the door of his office. “Mornin’, Shel.”

  “Mornin’, Jake. How was the weekend?”

  “Ah, you know. Stuff and things.” Jake’s expression brightened. “Ooh, tell me about your trip. Was it cool? What happened? Did you shoot lots of badass commies?”

  “Buddy, I’ve got stories about badass commies enough to amuse you for days. But not before coffee. No way.” She headed for the comfort of her own office. Jake was hot on her heels. He beat her to the coffee and poured her a cup. “New jacket, Shel? Very retro.”

  “You like it?” Shelby modeled a little so he could check it out.

  “Yeah, sure. Is that what all the hip kids were sporting in 1985?” He handed Shelby her coffee and flopped into his usual place in the chair across from her desk.

  “Not the hip kids, so to speak, but the black leather jacket is apparently the uniform for every badass secret agent type that ever plundered and thieved their way though Eastern Europe.” She gave Jake a weak smile. “I kind of had one too, and I liked it, so when I was on my way home Sunday afternoon, there was this shop—”

  “Whoa, brake lights. Back it up. You said Sunday afternoon. You were supposed to be cyber-tripping until Sunday night. What’s with that?”

  “That’s a loaded question and will require a very long answer. Let’s just say my little trip didn’t go exactly according to plan.”

  “According to plan? They were supposed to give you all these instructions and stuff. Did you lose them or something?”

  “Worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Yeah, worse. I didn’t let the vacation guy give me all the details before I left.” Shelby bit her lower lip. “I kind of fucked up, things got weird, and I got done early.”

  “What do you mean, things got weird?”

  “I mean right off the bat, I got mistakenly hooked up with the badass villain babe instead of the good guys. She totally suckered me in. But, a little in my own defense, you should have seen her butt.”

  “Fine?”

  “Oh, yeah. She had these black jeans and, well, never mind.” Shelby steered the story back to the relevant part. “But she was also one smooth operator. She said she was there to help me, and then all this stuff happened, and it turned out I was nothing but a means to an end for her.”

  “Stuff happened? What kind of stuff?” He stopped talking as realization dawned. “Shel! Did you get laid?”

  “Jake!” Shelby tried to look offended, but it just wasn’t working. Instead, she gave him an evil little grin, held up two fingers, and waggled her eyebrows.

  “Shelby Hutchinson, you’re a dog.”

  “Yeah, buddy, I’ve heard that before too.”

  Shelby Hutchinson, you bark like a dog.

  “Shel, are you okay?”

  Shelby felt funny. “Um, yeah. I’m good.” She felt really funny. And her head was beginning to throb. “I’ll be fine.” She reached up to her forehead.

  “Are you sure?” Jake asked. “You have a funny look on your face. Maybe you should sit down.”

  “What?” Shelby’s head hurt. It hurt a lot. “Ow. Jake?”

  “Shel!”

  She didn’t answer. Everything got gray and fuzzy. She felt her eyes roll back right before the floor rushed up to smack her in the face. Then everything went black.

  Chapter Nine

  Shelby’s eyes snapped open.

  “Tasha…no!”

  Her hand flew to the painful spot on the left side of her forehead. “Oh, shit, she shot me.” Panic-stricken, Shelby panted, breath coming hard in short bursts as she checked her hand for the blood she felt certain would be there. “What the fuck?” No blood. “But she shot me…I don’t…” Her heart continued to race as her eyes darted from side to side. “Where…what?”

  “Shel?” A male voice. Shelby didn’t recognize it.

  “Who are you?” Shelby was terrified. “Where is Tasha? Did you see what she did?”

  The guy looked scared, as he got up from his chair in the corner and approached tentatively. “Shel…it’s me…Jake. Who is Tasha?”

  “Jake?” Shelby tried to sit up. A tidal wave of vertigo washed over her. She fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning and the confusion.

  “Shel, you’re in the emergency room.”

  “Emergency room? Where?”

  “Chicago.” She felt strong hands wrap around her upper arms. “You’re in the ER at Northwestern Memorial. Work, remember?”

  “Northwestern Memorial? Work?” She knew this guy. Familiar brown eyes. Puzzled expression on his face. She knew this place. The white tile walls seemed familiar. She could hear the hum of machinery, punctuated by the occasional electronic beep, and muted bits of conversation. And the disinfectant smell. She recognized that too. “What happened?”

  “You had a seizure. You don’t remember anything?”

  Shelby shrugged.

  “We were talking. You were telling me about your trip. And then you said ‘ow,’ grabbed your head, and boom, down you went.”

  “Just like that?” Shelby didn’t remember any of it.

  “Just like that.” Jake offered her a small smile. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Forget about it. Do you feel better now?”

  “I feel like somebody tried to blow my brains out.” Without thinking, Shelby gently touched the spot over her left eye with her fingertips.

  “Tasha?” he said.

  Shelby panicked, gripped the rails of the bed, and tried to get up again. “Tasha! What? Is she here?”

  Jake clamped down on her arms, pinning her back to the bed while she struggled to get up. “No, Shel. Take it easy. No one’s here. Who is Tasha?”

  She breathed a little easier hearing Jake’s reassurance and quit struggling enough that he let go of her arms. “Tasha? She’s the Russian babe. You know…fine ass…shot me in the head.”

  “Shel? What happened? Besides the shot you in the head business. I get that part. Is that why your vacation ended early?”

  It was all coming back to her now. “Yes, my vacation ended early because Tasha shot me. Well, come to think of it, she executed me, but why quibble about words?”

  “Quibble? Executed? What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Jake. I just didn’t—” The door opened and a man in a white coat stepped into the room.

  “Ms. Hutchinson? Are we feeling better now?”

  “We? Not sure about we. I feel like death warmed over.” She looked up to meet the doctor’s eyes. “Sorry.”

  “No, no, Ms. Hutchinson. I understand. Does your head still hurt?”

  Shelby nodded.

  “Still dizzy? Nauseous? A little disoriented?”

  Shelby nodded to all of the above.

  “Any injuries lately? Head trauma? Anything like that?”

  Shelby began to tell the tale of her Head Trip vacation, the shooting, and the rude awakening when it was over. The doctor reacted to the story, nodding appropriately, looking concerned and making a note or two on Shelby’s hospital chart.

  “I’ve read a little about these virtual experiences, and everything seems to indicate they’re safe enough, but just to be cautious, I’d like to order some tests.”

  “Tests? What kind of tests?”

  “Oh, nothing invasive. Tomographic brain scan, blood test, an external stimuli test to check for epilepsy.”

  “Epilepsy?” Shelby felt the anxiety begin to bubble again. She forced it down and reluctantly agreed
to the tests. “Sure. When?”

  “I think it would be best to do it right now. I’ll go have the charge nurse make the arrangements and we’ll get you up and out of here as soon as possible.”

  That all sounded like a great plan, but Shelby didn’t want to do it alone. “Jake? Would you hang with me while they do all this stuff?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll call upstairs and check in, then I’m all yours. Okay?”

  “Yeah, that sounds great.” She reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

  *

  Almost eight hours later, Shelby was leaning against the open door of her apartment, trying to convince Jake she would be perfectly fine home alone.

  “I have to, Jake. You know? Besides, this is what I do every night. And, hey, I have this cool hospital microchip telemetry thingy if I have another seizure.” She idly scratched at the spot on her scalp where the doctor had injected the tiny device. “If anything serious happens, the hospital will call me, and if I don’t answer, the EMTs will be here in less than five minutes. I’ll be fine.”

  “But the doctor said that you shouldn’t be alone. Remember? You even told them you had someone that could stay with you. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have let you come home.”

  “Jake,” Shelby pleaded, “I just couldn’t stay there. You know? Between the Head Trip and last night on the sofa, I just needed some quality time in my own bed.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just worry about you is all.”

  “Well, don’t worry all night. I’m just going to put on my sweats, get into bed, surf online, and watch TV. I’m fine, I promise.”

  “Okay. But if you need anything…”