“He is not. He has done a lot of good for the people of my country.”
“At whose expense?”
“We can discuss this later when you feel better. For now you should get some rest.” Markova kept an arm around Emma’s shoulder to guide her into the bedroom. There was more than enough room on the queen-sized bed for Emma to spread out. Her head spun again on the way down, but Markova caught her in time. “I think we should have a doctor examine you.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me out of here?”
“No. I will have a doctor come down here.”
“Oh.” Emma wished her father were here to tuck her in and kiss her on the forehead. Instead, she had to pull up the covers herself; there was no one to kiss her. She heard Markova’s steps fade from the room followed by a clank as the hatch shut.
With a groan Emma tried to sit up, felt the room spin, and then collapsed back to the mattress. Her eyes fell upon the closet opposite the foot of the bed. She shivered again as she thought of the memory. She had been so certain there was something there in the shadows. She had the same feeling now, but again there were only shadows in the room.
She kept her head straight ahead as she moved her eyes to the left to catch sight of the presence, but there was nothing. Emma reminded herself that she was far too old to believe in the bogeyman. She had seen enough real life bogeymen already; none of them lurked in closets to spring on people.
“I can’t see it. I just know it’s there,” she had said in the dream. She felt the same way now. She thought back to the buzz in her mind when she had first seen the meteor. That same buzz had continued as she went to examine it. Then there was the unnatural glow. It was perhaps too early to attribute that to unnatural causes, but she couldn’t deny what she felt.
The doctor Markova brought down made it clear he didn’t want to be there. She all but had to force him into the room and then give him a light push towards the bed. He babbled something to her in Russian before he opened his black bag. The doctor shined a light in each of Emma’s eyes as he mumbled to himself. Then he held up a finger and asked her to follow it from right to left and back again. For the final part of his exam he asked her the day, year, and her name, all of which she named with little difficulty.
“There seems to be no significant problem,” the doctor said. “If these dizzy spells continue or you start to have headaches, then I will need to take you to the hospital for tests.”
“Very good, Doctor. You may go.” The doctor bolted from the bunker. “Forgive me, Dr. Earl. I did not know he was claustrophobic.”
“That’s fine. He did good under the circumstances.”
“I have advised Mr. Bykov of the problem. He suggests that you rest for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow he will expect more significant progress.”
“I understand. I’ll try not to let him down.”
“Very good. I hope you feel better in the morning, Dr. Earl.”
“Thanks.” She waited until she heard the hatch shut again to close her eyes and slip back into unconsciousness.
***
When she awoke, she heard someone shout. As the echoes faded, she realized it was her voice calling for her mommy and daddy. Emma sat up in bed. As in the lab earlier, she needed a moment to realize where and when she was.
She had not dreamed this time, but even as she slept, she felt something in the room with her, a dark presence. Even now, with her eyes open, she could still feel it. “Where are you?” she whispered into the darkness. Nothing answered. “Why don’t you leave me alone?” Again there was no answer.
She bolted from the bed to sprint out of the room. She ran until she reached the ladder to the surface. She climbed to the top and tried to turn the hatch release, but it refused to move. She pounded the hatch with her fists until she felt pain in her knuckles. “Let me go!” she screamed.
The dark presence she felt had followed her from the bedroom. She still couldn’t see it, but she could feel it get closer. At any moment it would ascend the ladder to swallow her up. She pounded on the hatch again. “Wet me outta here!” she shouted as if suddenly five years old again. No one answered or opened the hatch for her.
She slid down the ladder to lay in a heap on the floor and sobbed. “Weave me awone,” she whimpered. The presence she felt continued to hover just out of range. Emma’s chest began to ache, but still she couldn’t stop the tears. When she was spent, she mumbled, “What’s happening to me?”
She had lost her mind and reverted back to a child scared of monsters in the dark. But she wasn’t a child anymore; she was twenty-five years old. She had a PhD. She was far too grown up to be afraid of the dark.
She slid her back against the wall to ease herself to her feet. Something metal tinkled on the floor. She looked down and saw the thimble Ms. Chiostro had given her for protection. She bent down to retrieve the thimble and squeezed it so tightly in her hand that she thought it might embed itself in her skin. She didn’t usually believe in such things, but at the moment she believed in the power of the thimble to protect her from whatever evil spirit was down here.
She went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The warm water felt good after a couple of days without a bath. At least to her own nostrils the stench of the survey camp faded away. When she stepped out of the shower, she felt much better.
Finally she could start to think again. She had to get out of here before she lost her mind, that much was clear. Markova wouldn’t let her go and neither would Bykov; the latter probably wouldn’t let her go even after she finished with the meteor. That left only one way out.
She took a deep breath and said the magic words, “Mekka lekka weep ninnebaum.” She waited for the case of red armor to appear. Nothing happened. She repeated the phrase again in case she had somehow screwed it up the first time. Still nothing happened.
“Oh no,” she said to herself. The armor wouldn’t come. She was trapped!
She melted to the floor to sob again.
***
She let the sobs wind down after a few minutes so again she could think rationally about her predicament. If the armor wouldn’t come to her, there was something else she could do. She could ask Marlin to relay a message to Ms. Chiostro; the witch would be able to help.
“Marlin? Marlin, where are you?” she said into the darkness. “Please, I need you.” She waited, curled into a ball, for the ghost to appear through the wall or ceiling or floor as he usually did. He didn’t come. “I’m sorry for what I said before. Please help me. There’s no one else. Please! I can’t stay here. I have to get out of here.” She wiped back the tears in her eyes. “Marlin? Ms. Chiostro? Someone, please help me!”
As if on cue, the hatch opened. Emma crawled over to the bathroom doorway to poke her head out. It obviously wasn’t Marlin, as the ghost couldn’t have opened the hatch. It was Markova who came down the ladder. Emma hurried to grab her towel from the floor to wrap around herself.
“Are you all right?” Markova asked.
“I was just taking a shower,” Emma said.
“At this time of night?”
“I guess I’m not on Russian time yet.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“A little. I think I’ve got a touch of claustrophobia myself.”
“You need to get dressed. We must leave this place quickly.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“My employer is planning to terminate you.”
“When?”
“As soon as you are finished. We must get you out of here before that can happen.”
“All right. I’ll get dressed.” Emma could feel her cheeks blaze with heat as she hurried into the bedroom with the towel wrapped around her body. She dug through her clothes for a dark purple blouse, dark blue sweater, and black pants. Not the most fashionable outfit, but it would make her more difficult to see in the darkness.
“Are you ready?” Markova asked when Emma returned from the bedroom.
�
�Just about.” She hurried into the lab, where the meteor remained in its metal case, though it no longer glowed. She stood at arm’s length as she snapped the case shut. She didn’t receive another shock as she tucked the meteor case under her arm.
“You can’t take that with you,” Markova said. “Mr. Bykov will be furious.”
“I can’t leave it with him. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. Too dangerous in the hands of someone like that.”
“Very well. Now, we must hurry. We don’t have much time.”
They climbed up the ladder with Markova in the lead. She signaled it was safe for Emma to climb up through the hatch. She emerged in the pantry, which at this late hour was empty. The kitchen was similarly empty, as was the dining room. “Where are the guards?” Emma whispered.
“I’ve dispatched most of them in pursuit of an intruder.”
“Are you going to get in trouble for this?”
“Perhaps, if Mr. Bykov learns of my role. Or he might simply think the clever scientist escaped all on her own.”
Emma thought of her own feeble attempts to escape. She blushed in the dark as she said, “I’m not that clever.”
“That he thinks so is all that matters.”
“Right. So, let’s get going before he finds out.”
They crept along the main hallway to the foyer. Emma heard a metal click in the dark and then saw Markova with a handgun. For a moment Emma froze and wondered if the other woman had changed her mind about freeing Emma. Maybe this was some kind of test of Emma’s loyalty—a test she had failed miserably.
To her surprise, Markova handed the pistol to Emma. “Take this. You might need it.”
“Thanks, but—”
“There’s no time to argue.” Markova looked around frantically. “You must follow a precise route through the minefield.”
“Through the minefield?”
“You cannot go down the main road or you’ll be spotted by the patrols.”
“So what’s the route?”
Markova pressed a sheet of paper into Emma’s hands. “You must be very careful not to stray from this route. You must also be quick. I will deactivate the security cameras in the fields for exactly five minutes. If by then you aren’t gone, you will likely be spotted.”
“I understand. Thank you for your help.” She wrapped Markova in a hug.
The other woman pushed her away. “Please, you must go.”
Emma nodded and then hurried through the front door. She paused for a moment to look around in case anyone was in front of the house, but didn’t see anyone. Then she hopped over one of the red signs that warned of the minefield ahead.
The map Markova had given her indicated there was no real pattern to the mines. That was to make it so only someone with a map of the layout could get in—or out—of the compound. She checked the positions of the moon and stars to orient the map properly.
The only safe path required her to change direction frequently. She had to dart left and then right and then back to the left in order to avoid one of the landmines. Throughout it all, she kept an internal timer of how long she had until the cameras went back on.
Near the end of the minefield she had to jump over a sizable rock. This required her to back up a few paces and then spring forward with the meteor case over her head. She made it over the rock, but the weight of the meteor case threw her off balance. She tottered forward a few steps before she managed to stop her momentum. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she checked the map to see she was within inches of a mine. She took a step back with a sigh of relief.
At last she came to the end of the minefield, which gave way to a forest. Emma hopped over the fence and then ran.
Chapter 11
The forest stretched for miles. Emma ran through most of it; she didn’t pay attention to where exactly she went. At this point it only mattered that she put as much distance between herself and that awful place as possible. The meteor grew heavier the farther she ran until it felt as if she carried the Rock of Gibraltar.
She leaned back against a tree to rest for a few minutes. She listened to the sounds of the forest and heard nothing that sounded like footsteps of humans or dogs that might be in pursuit of her. If her escape went unnoticed, then it was unlikely anyone would notice she was gone until tomorrow. If Bykov or his hired help didn’t peek down into the bunker it might be even longer before anyone noticed she was gone.
Still, she knew she had to assume the worst. She had to assume Bykov knew of her escape and had people out to search for her. They had every advantage in manpower, equipment, and knowledge of the territory. Her only advantage lay in that they didn’t know where she was. That slight advantage could be negated at any time.
If only she had the red armor, or more specifically, the golden cape with the armor. With that she would be able to turn invisible, which would make her escape much easier. She tried the magic words to summon the armor, but again nothing happened. “Marlin?” she hissed into the night air. “Marlin, can you hear me?” The ghost didn’t appear. She was on her own.
The meteor didn’t feel much lighter, but she couldn’t afford to wait all night; she was a fugitive after all. She tucked the case under her arm and then began to run again. The forest became less civilized, until trees and branches practically grew together. Branches scraped against her face and caught her sweater; she batted them away to plunge onwards. She lost sight of the stars to navigate by so she continued in what she hoped was west.
She stopped at one point and heard the rumble of an animal. A bear? She couldn’t be sure and had no desire to find out. She picked up her pace and shed the sweater to make it easier to slip through the forest, though it opened her up to more minor scratches. She ignored the pain of these to carry on.
The bear or whatever it was never revealed itself. Gradually the forest began to thin again so she could see the stars. From what she could tell, she had maintained a roughly western course that sooner or later would get her to the border, probably to the Ukraine. She couldn’t be sure she would find any help there, not even from the American embassy if what Bykov had said was true, but at least it would make her more difficult to locate.
When she came to the edge of a field, she set the meteor case down on the ground and then sat on top of it. She looked up at the night sky again and wondered when was the last time she had seen the stars so clearly; in Rampart City the light pollution blotted out all but the brightest stars. Without the sweater, she began to shiver from the northerly breeze. She still didn’t hear anything that sounded like someone on her tail. Maybe she would get lucky and Bykov wouldn’t find out until tomorrow.
Then she heard a shot. She felt a sharp pain in her left arm. She looked down in surprise and saw blood spread across her arm. Before she could see where the shot had come from, something heavy hit her in the back of the head.
***
She was certain she would wake up in the oppressive bunker again with the awful shadow presence. At least she was awake, which meant Bykov hadn’t decided to kill her—yet. Maybe he just wanted her to be conscious when he did it.
The last person she expected to see was Sylvia. Only when the old woman began to speak in Russian did Emma realize this wasn’t Sylvia but an old Russian woman who looked remarkably like the witch. The woman repeated whatever she had said the first time. “Are you feeling all right? I’m sorry my husband shot you,” the woman said.
“Your husband shot me?” Emma looked down at her left arm, which was heavily bandaged. She remembered the pain as the bullet tore through her bicep followed by a blow to the head—no doubt the same husband.
“He thought you were a thief, but you’re just a girl.”
Emma let the sexism of this remark pass. It was just as well they thought that way or she might very well be dead right now. “I’m sorry to intrude on your property.”
“You are not from Russia,” the woman stated this as a fact, not a question.
“I’m from America.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was a guest of Mr. Bykov.”
“That man is a pig. His men murdered our daughter.”
“When?”
“Ten years ago. They came on a night like this, drunk. They took her to the barn. I heard her screams as they did horrible things to her. Then they left her for dead.”
“Didn’t the police do anything?”
“He owns the police.”
Things worked the same way in Rampart City most of the time. “I’m sorry.” The words sounded pitiful in her ears. There was nothing she could do to bring back the old woman’s daughter; she couldn’t even save herself at the moment. She tried to sit up, but the old woman pushed her back down. “I should go before they find me here.”
“You can’t go like that. You must rest.”
“Once they know I’ve gone, they’ll look for me. If they find me here—”
“Do not worry about it. We will think of something.”
The argument ended when an old man who was obviously the woman’s husband came into the bedroom. “Who is this foolish girl?” he barked at his wife.
“My name is Dr. Emma Earl.”
“You know our language?”
“Yes.” Emma felt her cheeks redden slightly at this. She knew fifteen different languages and before she left Rampart City had been in the process of learning Gaelic, though she doubted she would ever have need of it.
“She’s from America,” the old woman said.
“An American would be out in the dark, sitting in my field as if she owned it.”
“I’m sorry. I got lost.”
“She’s running from the Wolf,” the old woman said. Emma assumed “the Wolf” referred to Bykov. The old man cursed loudly.
“We must get her out of here, before he comes looking for her.”
“We can’t turn her out like this.”
“What choice do we have? We can’t let them find her here.”
“Quiet! If you wanted her gone you shouldn’t have shot the poor girl.”
“She was trespassing!”
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the argument. They had arrived.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 9