“How could you know? Of all the places?”
“I got this vision. It told me you were in trouble. My body was screaming at me to come find you, so I did. Somehow, I just knew.”
He sat up, wincing in pain. “We need to go. They’ll be looking for me.”
“Who?”
“The GM and his security.”
“Did they hurt you?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later. We need to get out of here. Now!” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
She helped him to his feet. “Where?”
He leaned into her for support, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. His weight added to hers, making her thigh muscles and lower back work twice as hard. She wasn’t sure how far she could help him walk.
“Anywhere but here. Hurry,” he said, before coughing up a small batch of red-colored phlegm. He spit it onto the ground.
“Oh my God, Derek! Is that blood?”
“They busted me up pretty good. Probably one of my ribs.”
“We need to get you to a hospital right away. You could be bleeding internally.”
“No—no hospitals. Too many questions. Besides, that’s the first place they’ll look for me. Just get me someplace where I can rest. I’ll be okay, Em. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Probably just tore a muscle or something. Just need some ice and a place to lie down.”
“There’s a neighborhood just east of here, past the main entrance where I came in. Lots of dark corners and places to chill. And there’s a neighborhood play park, too. It has one of those big cement pipes we can hide in.”
“Either will work. Just need to sleep,” he said, with pain oozing from every word.
“Wait,” she said, stopping her feet. She thought about the possible Orange Man sighting and the members of law enforcement. She decided not to mention the man with the briefcase—she wasn’t sure she actually saw him.
“What?”
“Cops. They’re everywhere out front, directing the traffic from the freeway. If I walk you out there like this, they’re gonna notice.”
His head swung to the left, staring at the rear half of the parking area.
She followed his eyes and spotted four rows of cars parked neatly together—far away from everyone else. Maybe a hundred feet away from their position.
“Take me there. Must be the employee entrance. Shouldn’t be any cops.”
She did as he asked, turning and moving quickly. His legs were having a hard time keeping up with the new pace she was setting. She slowed down, allowing him to balance and keep up. She kept glancing over her shoulder at the arena exit door as they moved, making sure they weren’t being followed. They weren’t.
“Why did they hurt you? Did you sneak in without paying?”
“Actually, I was following your advice.”
“What advice?”
“I was trying to get an interview with one of the coaches for my Lit class. I tried to follow the rules, Em. I really did. But they wouldn’t let me.”
“So, what? You threw the first punch?”
“No. I didn’t do shit. They started it.”
“Then, I don’t understand. How’d this happen?”
“When the GM turned me down for a pass, I snuck down to ice level and waited for my chance to talk with the Wranglers’ coach. That’s when it all got fucked up.”
“Is his name Striker? The coach?”
“No. That’s the GM,” he replied, groaning through the pain. “Hey, wait a minute. How’d you know that?”
“His name was part of my vision. Just wasn’t sure if striker was a who or a what.”
“How’s that possible?” he asked as they approached the first row of what they both assumed were employee cars. There was enough space between two dark-colored, four-wheel-drive trucks for them to squeeze through as a tandem.
“It’s hard to put into words. They sort of just happen. I never know when. I get these flashes, and sometimes what they show me comes true.”
“Flashes?”
“Yep. They take over my brain for a second and show me stuff. Sometimes about people and what they’re thinking or feeling. Other times it’s about an event or a place, like tonight.”
“So, you’re a psychic?”
“Something like that, but more. It’s hard to explain. But enough about me. Go ahead, finish your story.”
“I snuck downstairs to wait and then I got caught. That’s when they beat the shit out of me.”
“That’s it? They caught you and kicked your ass?”
“Well, I did see all of them smoking weed and drinking on the job.”
“The GM, too?”
“Hell yeah.”
“That explains it.”
“And I had it all on video, until I dropped the phone I borrowed and it broke. It would have been the scoop of the century.”
“Maybe. But it’s not worth it if you get killed in the process.”
They were passing through the last row of cars when a woman in her thirties backed her ass out from inside an open side door of a minivan. She was holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Emily saw a look of concern come over her face.
“Do you need help?” the woman asked, spinning her child away from Derek.
Emily hesitated. She knew Derek needed help, but she hadn’t figured out how she was going to get it for him. This woman might be the help they needed—or a way to get it.
“My boyfriend fell down some stairs,” Emily replied. “I think he’s okay, but do you think I could use your phone to call my dad so he can come pick us up?”
Emily heard voices from the minivan. She noticed two young boys in the back, strapped in car seats. Neither of them looked to be older than four.
“Mommy, can we get out now?”
“Just a minute, you two.” The woman turned back to Emily. She took a flip phone from her pants pocket and gave it to her. “Are you sure I don’t need to call 9-1-1?”
“Thank you so much for this, ma’am. I’ll just be a second. My dad will come get us. We’ll be okay,” she said, trying to decide who to dial. She couldn’t call Miller, but there was one person. Someone with a car and a willingness to help.
She turned away and looked down at the phone, punching in a number she’d committed to memory several days before. Well, several days Emily time, but several months, normal people time. It was back when she was riding in Duane’s car on the way to see Jim at the hospital and he let her use his cell phone. She’d memorized his number on impulse, just in case. Now she was glad she did.
* * *
Duane hung up the phone and thought about what Emily had just asked him. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do—he was in a classic catch-22. She didn’t want Jim involved and wouldn’t say why, but she was adamant about it.
He looked across the kitchen table at his wife, Nora, who was an emergency room nurse with close to twenty years of experience. Their two teenage children, Duane Junior and Monica, were in the family room playing a video game. They’d bolted from the table as soon as mandatory family time—i.e., dinner—was over.
“I know that look, D. Out with it,” Nora demanded.
“It’s pretty complicated, baby.”
“It always is. But that’s not a look that says ‘I’m worried about work.’ That’s something else.”
Duane’s throat seemed to tighten and dry up. He swallowed, but the glob stuck a bit. He coughed, bringing it back up. He took a sip of after-dinner coffee and washed it down. “Remember that teenage girl I showed you photos of? The snapshots in Jim’s files? The redhead?”
“The one you think travels through time?”
Duane flinched and looked over his shoulder and into the family room. His kids were still occupied with the zombie shooter game.
“Not so loud,” he whispered across the table. “I don’t want the kids thinking I’m crazy.”
Nora’s voice turned sarcastic. “But it’s
okay if your wife does?”
“Well, you married me already knowing I’m crazy. You had the choice. They didn’t. And besides, you’re the one I talked it out with, remember? So, that makes you just as crazy.”
“We might have talked it out, but you’re the one who came up with the time travel idea.”
“Yeah, and you tried to punch holes in it for an hour.”
“Yep. That I did.”
“And you didn’t manage to come up with anything that made more sense, now did you?”
“No, I didn’t. But still—it’s crazy.”
He nodded. “A crazy idea that appears to fit the facts.”
“True enough. So. Okay then, what’s going on? What’s that phone call got to do with the redheaded time traveler?” she asked, sitting back in the chair and folding her arms. She creased her forehead and pressed her lips together, making that ‘don’t bullshit me’ look. He’d seen it countless times during their marriage, usually when they were talking about something the kids did before she made it home from a long shift at the hospital.
“Well, a male friend of hers got beat up pretty bad. They need help, and they don’t want to go to the emergency room.”
Without blinking, Nora picked up the car keys and yelled to the kids in the family room.
“Junior! Come here!”
She opened the pantry door and grabbed her orange EMT bag that Duane insisted they keep in the kitchen. He was convinced that most household accidents either happen in the kitchen, or end up being dealt with there.
Nora slung the bag over her shoulder. “Junior! Don’t make me call you again!”
“Mom . . .” a teenage voice whined from the family room. “We’re in the middle of a game. I’m on the last level!”
“Now! I won’t say it again!”
“Okay. Coming.”
“So, we’re gonna go just like that?” Duane asked, giving her a smile. He couldn’t help but admire his tough, compassionate wife, nor could he resist taking a jab at her—all in fun. “No questions asked?”
“Duane, you ought to know me by now. You just told me there’s a kid in trouble, and we can help. What do you think I’m going to say? No?”
A lanky, mocha-skinned teenage boy with kind, dark eyes appeared in the doorway to the family room.
Nora licked the tip of her index finger and used it as a makeshift comb, trying to convince the rooster tail on the back of Junior’s head to lie down. It didn’t. Instead, it sprang back into place, ignoring the saliva glue she was using.
“Your father and I are going out for a couple of hours. You’re in charge. Look after your sister, and don’t answer the door for anyone. You can play video games for another hour, then both of you finish your homework and get ready for bed. Lights out by ten.”
Duane junior’s eyes lit up. “You mean I get to be the boss?”
“Yeah, but no funny stuff. And you know I’ll know if you don’t do your schoolwork. We’ll try to be back by nine thirty at the latest, but we might be later. I expect all your homework to be done and both of you ready for bed when we get back. Don’t make me say it again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Duane Senior smiled and followed his wife out the door.
Kid’s learning, he thought, letting out a sly smile. No sense arguing with your mother. It’s never worked for me.
Duane Senior locked the exterior door behind them and followed Nora into the carport, where she was climbing into the passenger seat of his car.
Just then, his catch-22 conundrum involving Jim Miller resolved itself in his mind as he sat behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. He knew Emily was going to be pissed at him, but he had to go with his gut on this. He knew Jim Miller far better than she did. Granted, she had her reasons for not calling Jim, but so did Duane. He took out his phone and called the third name on the speed dial list.
“What are you doing?” Nora asked in a disagreeing tone.
“Calling Jim.”
“Why?”
“Reinforcements. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“You always say that. I think running security has you paranoid.”
“Maybe, but he needs to know, regardless.”
“Suit yourself,” she snapped, unzipping the medical kit and looking through its contents.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Emily and Derek made their way from the arena’s parking lot to an abandoned Chevron gas station a few blocks away. They found a wooden two-person bench near the roll-up service bay doors and sat next to each other. They had a clear view of the street.
“Duane should be here any minute,” Emily said.
“Why didn’t you call Miller? Why Duane?”
She choked up, struggling to find the proper words and get them out. “Jim—he—um—squealed to the cops about me.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yup. Saw it with my own two eyes.”
“What did he tell them?”
“I don’t know, exactly. I was too far away to hear. But he was sitting there with the folder he keeps about me. Showing Alison my photos. Basically, my life story. Everything.”
“Isn’t that what he sent you to get from the safe when you got attacked? To protect you?”
She nodded, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks.
“So why now? Why show Alison?”
“I don’t know, but he did. He broke my heart, Derek. Just tossed me away like I’m garbage,” she said, unable to hold back her emotions.
Derek put his hand on hers, interlocking his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry, babe.”
Her voice cracked, trying to push the words out through the emotional pain. “Why, Derek? Why did he do that? I thought he was my friend.”
“It sucks, I know. But eventually, everyone lets you down. Just a matter of time. Especially when they have an agenda. Don’t forget, he’s a reporter, Em. I’ll bet everything he’s done was to further his career. Even getting shot.”
“How could I have been so stupid? I know better than to trust people. Especially men I just met.”
“It’s not your fault, Em. It’s his. He’s the problem, not you.”
She stood up, spun around, and faced Derek.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m done crying,” she announced, sniffing and wiping her cheeks. “Not another tear. I’m not wasting another minute on him.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, holding his arms out.
She spun and sat next to him, snuggling her cheek into his shoulder. “How you feeling?”
Derek took in a long, deep breath. He didn’t wince. “Better.”
“Sounds like it.”
“If I can do that, then my ribs aren’t broken. I’ve had broken ribs before and trust me, breathing deep like that would fricken kill me.”
She sat up. “Hey! I just realized something.”
“What?”
“I’ve been totally emotional this whole time and I haven’t felt it. Not one tingle.”
“You mean—”
She nodded, then looked deep into his eyes. “Not even when I was running here and afraid for you. For some reason, my body doesn’t want to jump.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him. “It must be you.”
“Huh? Why now? You’ve been with me before when it happened, so how’s this any different? Maybe you’re just too tired.”
“I’ve jumped a bunch of times when I’m tired. Being exhausted makes the process even more miserable than it already is, but it never stops me. No, I’m gonna go with it’s not happening because of you. You’re keeping me here, like some kind of quantum anchor.”
“Quantum anchor? Where did you come up with that? That wimpy library guy, Sheldon?”
“No, silly. I’ve been researching a lot of stuff trying to figure out what’s happening to me.”
“Making any progress?”
“Not exactly. But I’m learning a lot about physics and the par
anormal.”
He smiled and touched her cheek, rubbing it gently. “Damn, girl. You never quit, do you? I think I would have given up a long time ago.”
“Never,” she said in earnest, realizing The Derek Effect was strange and confounding—on so many levels.
His eyes narrowed as he turned to look toward the street and reported, “A car’s coming.”
Before Emily could follow his eyes, her mind connected with the driver, who must have been focused solely on her, sending a stream of images and feelings.
“Duane’s here,” she said, never taking her eyes off the beautiful boy cuddling with her.
“Since you didn’t look—”
“Yes, sweetie. I got one of my flashes.”
“There’s someone else in the car with him.”
“A woman that Duane trusts. Someone he thinks can help.”
She helped Derek to his feet as the link with Duane disconnected. His eyes must be on Derek now, she figured. Same for the woman in the car with him.
They moved to the sidewalk bordering the street and waited for Duane’s Chevy Impala to arrive. It did.
A short, middle-aged woman with light-brown skin opened the door and got out of the passenger seat. She moved toward them, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose, blue cotton blouse. Her short, reddish hair had been done up in a small, knotty, faux-dreadlocks style.
She looked at Emily with her inquisitive eyes, establishing a powerful psychic link that caught Emily off guard for a moment. Instantly, Emily knew there was nothing fake about the woman. She was filled with selfless concern and compassion, and carried with her a warm and genuine heart. She was a kind soul who ruled her life with logic and respect for everyone, freely giving of herself in the service of others. She held open the back door of the car as Emily and Derek approached.
Emily looked at Duane and connected with him, receiving more information about the woman he had brought with him—she was Duane’s wife, and he loved her deeply.
“You must be Emily,” she said with a smile. “My name is Nora. I’m Duane’s better half. And you, young man, must be the boyfriend. You get in back with me.”
Emily’s heart cheered when she heard someone—basically a total stranger—use the term boyfriend when referring to Derek. It validated her relationship with him and made everything feel even more real than it already was.
Glassford Girl: Part 3 (The Emily Heart Time Jumper) Page 11