Not the gun wasn't loaded or the trigger was broken, but her finger wouldn't pull it.
And it wasn't Zane. And it wasn't Kayla. They still couldn't get anywhere near her. Tom stood a few feet away, looking at her with terror in his eyes.
She very distinctly tried to pull the trigger again. Her finger would not budge.
From inside Zane finally realized what was going on.
'They programmed you not to kill yourself,' she said from inside, in shock.
'Oh, thank God,' Kayla said inside, 'Thank God...'
Rachel dropped the gun to the floor and slumped down to the floor herself and cried.
Tom quickly kicked the gun away, then quietly crouched down with her and held her.
She sobbed into his shoulder and said in a muffled way, "They programmed me not to kill myself."
"What?" Tom said, completely not understanding her, "Who are 'they'?" he asked. "Kayla, what the hell is going on?"
Rachel laughed when she realized he had no idea what had been happening around him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling away to look at her, and hold her shoulders. "What is going on?" He looked her in the eye.
She laughed again as new tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don't know why on Earth you would ever believe me," Rachel said.
He gently squeezed her shoulders and looked intently into her eyes, "Trust me," he said, "I'll believe you." He slid his hands down her arms to grab her hands, which were covered in dried blood, and held them up for her to see.
"Oh God," she said, upset again, and threw her arms around him. He held her tight. "I'll tell you everything," she said. "Everything I know," she said with a broken laugh. And then she did.
Chapter 9
Tom had gone home after Rachel had told him everything. He said he needed to think. Rachel understood. Kayla was devastated. She had taken over the body after he left and refused to speak to the other two. She fumed silently. She put on cute pink pajama pants with flowers and butterflies on them, and a cute pink T-shirt, because it was her favorite and she knew it bothered Zane. She'd gone to sleep fitfully.
It was morning now and Kayla was up, and Rachel was aware, but not in control. Kayla was slamming things around, getting her breakfast. She was mad at Rachel for trying to kill them, and mad at her for telling Tom everything and scaring him away. And mad at Zane for killing people and for upsetting Rachel so much. He was her boyfriend, after all. And they had ruined it.
She moodily took her cereal to the living room and sat in a chair and sulked as she ate.
Just then she heard a key start to turn in the lock of the front door. She set the bowl down quickly and jumped up, alarmed. Then the door opened.
There were two men standing there. Young men in suits. One with dark blond hair in a crew cut, it gave him an almost military look. The other was skinny and had dark brown hair and looked out the door behind them to see if they'd been seen. They hadn't been. He came inside and closed the door as crew cut guy stared firmly at Kayla.
"Kayla," he said.
"Yes?" she asked, frightened.
"Why don't you run and get Zane. We'd like to speak with her."
"Okay," she said and quickly sunk back into the body as Zane stepped forward to take it over. Rachel hadn't even known she was there.
"What do you want?" Zane asked coldly, crossing her arms.
"What do you think we want?" Crew Cut asked, as he sat on the arm of an easy chair.
"You've missed two doctor's appointments, Zane," Dark Hair said. "We were worried about you." He said this in a flat way, like there's no way in hell they would actually worry over her well-being.
'What's going on?' Rachel asked from inside. 'Who are these guys?'
'They're handlers,' Zane said inside. Then aloud, "I forgot."
"An appointment is not something you forget," Crew Cut said menacingly as he got up from the chair arm and walked over to her with a confident swagger. He glanced around to see if she was alone here. "Especially you, Zane."
"With all the heightened mental capabilities that were instilled in you," Dark Hair said in his monotone. He looked away, bored, to the pictures on the wall.
"You also failed to eliminate one of your targets. We had to send another assassin to finish the job,” Crew Cut said.
Rachel realized he must be talking about the man she’d stopped Zane from killing.
“So, here's the way it's going to be," Crew Cut continued, looking down at her now, and in a lower voice. "You're going to come with us now and make up your two appointments, and then everything will be fine."
"Alright," Zane said coldly, glaring up at him. "Let me change first." She started to walk away.
"Oh, no ,no, no, no," Crew Cut said grabbing her firmly by the elbow. "I don't think you'll be leaving our sight."
'What are "appointments"?' Rachel asked hurriedly from inside. 'Where are they taking us?!'
'They're debrief sessions,' Zane said inside. 'I skipped them ‘cause I didn't know how to hide the fact that you were out. They have tricks to find stuff out.'
"So, why don't you put on your fuzzy slippers and come with us," Crew Cut said with authority in his voice.
'Let me handle this,' Zane said to Rachel inside. 'You have to go away now.' Zane shook the man's hand off her arm and went to the door and slipped on some sandals there. The dark haired man calmly put her hands in plastic disposable hand cuffs.
"Is that really necessary?" Zane asked.
"I think you know it is," Dark Hair said.
"Let's go, Zane," Crew Cut said, grabbing her arm roughly.
They each held an arm as they led her out to a big black SUV and put her in the back. They sat on either side of her, as their driver started the car.
'Rachel, I said get back!' Zane said inside. Her heart was pounding. 'Kayla...'
'Come on, Rach,' Kayla said quietly. And Rachel felt herself being pulled backwards, farther and farther away from reality, until there was nothing.
* * *
She woke up what seemed like days later, and maybe it was. She was in her own bed, in different clothes. She sat up. She felt groggy, drugged.
'They know, Rach,' Zane said from inside. 'They know you're out. But they still think they can fix it, so we're okay for now.'
"Okay," Rachel said aloud. She got up out of the bed and groggily went to the kitchen for food. She ate, she began to feel her head clear. She went out to the front porch to feel the breeze of a cool summer morning. It must be quite early, she thought.
Then she started to feel dizzy and felt the mental pressure in her head again. The mental throw up feeling. 'No, not again,' she thought. 'Just give me space to breathe.'
She got so dizzy she had to lie down on the porch.
Wind chimes tinkled gently in the morning breeze as she was sucked into another memory.
She was a teenager, working in a juice bar or something on a boardwalk or outdoor walking mall. The ocean was in the distance. It was a slow day. She wiped a table clean, there were four tables out front. Out in the sun. No inside to the bar, except where the workers were. She dumped an empty cup in the trash and went in the back to take a break with her friend.
The friend had long dark hair and naturally brown skin. She handed her a cigarette. Rachel took it and took a long drag off of it.
"So, he was here again," the friend said.
Rachel looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"The rich guy," said the friend. Rachel said nothing. "Come on, don't tell me you don't see how he looks at you. Go for it!"
"Go for it?" Rachel asked. "Allie."
"What?" Allie blew smoke out of her mouth quickly. "You never knew your parents—"
"I knew my mom 'til I was four," Rachel snapped.
"Okay, but she was a druggie and gave you up for adoption," Allie said, unfazed by Rachel's snappiness. "You lived your life in foster homes, you don't have money for school, or time to get good grades for scholarships. So, screw al
l that. You marry one rich guy and all your problems go away," she said, enthused by her own idea. "Hell, I'd do it if he gave a half a glance at me."
Rachel wondered why he didn't. Allie was pretty. Exotic looking. And she knew how to use make-up just so. Boys certainly noticed. But not this guy.
"He must be into the goodie two shoes type," Allie said snarkily.
"Shut up," Rachel tried to sound annoyed, but she laughed. They all had to wear the same white T-shirts and blue shorts for their uniforms, but she did for some reason look more innocent and sweet in hers. Was it the no make-up? The hair pulled back in a neat barrette and a ponytail, no frills?
"Talk to him," Allie said with confidence. "Believe me he will do the rest."
"Are you talking to me like I'm a virgin?" Rachel asked, exasperated.
"Aren't you?" Allie smirked.
"Aren't you the one who walked in on me and your brother?" Rachel said in a lower tone.
"Yeah, back at the Ritz."
"The group home is not the Ritz."
"Exactly," Allie said, staring intently at her. Then she took another drag on her cigarette. "So, cut a little cleavage out of that shirt and let's get this thing going," she muttered.
Rachel smacked her on the arm. "Shut up!" she laughed.
The next day he was back, sitting at a table. There wasn't really waitress service there, but Rachel went nervously up to his table anyway. It had cups and wrappers from the customers before him.
"Let me get these out of the way for you," she said.
He was in his late 20's, maybe 30. He looked bookish and quiet. Dark hair. Suit with the tie loosened, like he'd just come from work.
"Oh, thank you," he said, a little surprised.
"No problem," she smiled and started to take the garbage away.
"Uh," he said, "have you always lived here?"
"All my life," she said, stopping to turn to speak to him again. "Uh... you?"
"No, I'm new here..." he said, at a loss for words. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Rachel."
"I'm Geoffrey Wurther." He held out a hand. She shifted the trash to one hand so she could shake his.
"Hi," she said shyly.
"Would you..." he almost stuttered, "mind showing me around a little?"
She tried not to blush. "Not at all," she said.
"I could pick you up after work..." he trailed off.
"Eight o'clock," she said nodding.
"Okay then," he said getting up quickly. "Eight o'clock."
* * *
Later that night they walked along the walking mall in the twilight, window shopping at the closed shops and talking about things. Not their lives, just what they thought of everything.
He was sweet. More educated than she was, though he didn't make her feel bad about that. He kissed her gently on the lips as he dropped her off back at the juice bar. He offered to drive her home, but she didn't want that.
Over the next few weeks he took her to old movies in little theaters, plays, art house films, art galleries, and fancy restaurants. She was running out of pretty outfits to scrounge together or borrow. He'd been dropping her off outside the group home, a big two story brown brick house.
"This some sort of sorority house?" he asked her the first time he dropped her off at home.
"Something like that," she said and smiled. She kissed him goodbye.
He was such a gentleman with her, even when they made out. She wasn’t used to that. Hadn’t known it was possible, to be respectful and sexy at the same time.
She enjoyed his company. She was learning all about art and other things. He was opening the world to her and she was falling in love with him.
"Wurther family fortune!" Allie said to her one night as she was getting into bed. They shared a room.
"It's not like that," Rachel said.
"I'm sure it helps," Allie said sarcastically.
Geoff's father had started the enormous Wurther Corporation, which owned all kinds of businesses, many brand names.
"Pregnant yet?" Allie asked wistfully from her bed.
"Shut up, Allie Cat," Rachel said wearily as she climbed into her own bed.
"'Night, Rach," Allie said quietly from her bed.
"'Night." Rachel flipped off the light from her bed.
* * *
Geoff had invited her to the opera. She said she couldn't possibly, she had nothing to wear. He offered to buy her a dress, and he did. His assistant had helped him pick one out. She'd met Rachel once. He bought the dress in two sizes, to return the one that didn't fit. But the first one she tried fit.
It was a beautiful black and dark blue silk gown. Strapless. Loose ruffles to the skirt, random layers of blue—which shimmered black in places—and black. The bodice was layered too, but more snug. It looked like fabric wrapped carefreely around her. It was beautiful.
"Oh my God," she said, looking in the mirror.
"I agree," he said from behind her, and bent down to put his chin on her shoulder and wrap his arms around her.
"I can't keep it," she said, smiling at his boyish grin.
"But you will," he said. He straightened up then and took her hand. He was in a nice tuxedo.
"Your chariot awaits," he said.
She laughed.
They went to the opera. It was beautiful and breathtaking, though she couldn't understand a single word. The voices were so beautiful and filled with emotion. She followed the story in a rudimentary way, mostly because he'd lean over now and then to whisper the plot into her ear.
At one point he stole a kiss on her neck. It warmed her soul.
On the way home in the limo they began passionately making out. He kissed her neck, her ear, her mouth. He started to unzip her dress.
She playfully slapped his face and said, "Not here," breathlessly.
Once back inside his luxury apartment building, they behaved themselves past the doorman and began kissing passionately in the elevator, all the way up to the penthouse.
Once inside his apartment he quickly pulled her out of her dress. He picked her up and carried her to the king sized bed in his lush bedroom with gorgeous views of the city's night sky. He lowered her gently on the bed and made love to her. Their first time together. She fell asleep in his arms, their naked bodies tangled together.
Morning light woke her as it traveled in a beam and finally got to her eyes. She woke slowly and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Then she realized it was morning.
"Geoff! Geoff!" she said, trying to wake him up quickly. His head was resting on her arm, which had gone numb. "Geoff!"
"What?" he asked, lifting his head to squint at her.
"I have to get home," she said, glancing quickly around the room for her clothes.
"Okay," he said, yawning and stretching.
She must have left her clothes in his walk-in closet when she'd put on the dress. Too nervous to be self-conscious, she just jumped out of the bed and streaked over to the closet to get dressed.
"You want breakfast first?" he asked, sitting up in the bed, watching her zip up her pants and shuffle quickly into her shoes.
"No, no breakfast," she said quickly and wondered where she'd left her purse.
"Why are you so freaked out?" he asked. He stood up and grabbed a pair of pajama pants out of a drawer and threw them on. "It's not like you have summer classes, and you don't have to be to work until one." He looked at the bedside clock. "It's 9 a.m."
He looked at her, confused. He had spiky bed hair. It was cute. But she couldn't think about cute now. She'd be in huge trouble at the group home. Unless Allie somehow managed to cover for her.
"Geoff," she said, "Just trust me. Let's go."
"No," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She was standing near enough that he could reach out and grab her hands and pull her to him. He put his hands on her waist and looked up at her. "Tell me what's going on."
She could think of no other way to speed this along quickly a
nd get her back to the home to do damage control. She sighed, and looked down at him. "I'm 17," she said.
"What?!" he asked in disbelief. He almost laughed.
"You're WHAT?" He jumped up and started to pace, then stopped to look at her. "Tell me you're joking." She didn't. She just watched him fume and thought how this wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.
He looked so confused. "I thought you lived in a sorority house. I thought you were in college."
"I let you believe that," she said. "I wanted..." she couldn't think of what to say.
"Oh, my God," he said, putting his hands to his cheeks, "I've broken the law." He opened another drawer and threw on a T-shirt. He slipped on some loafers in the corner and grabbed his car keys off a table. "I am taking you home," he said coldly.
She started to cry. Now he was acting like some stern father instead of her boyfriend.
"Geoff," she said.
"No, no, NO," he said turning to her angrily. "No tears, and no apologies and no explanations." He pulled her by the hand and dragged her out of the room a little too roughly. He looked around and grabbed her purse and slapped it into her hand.
"I am taking you home," he said as he led her to the elevator. "And we can never see each other again," he said.
Her tears became a silent steady stream then. He wouldn't look at her.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"It isn't even about that," he said without looking at her. "It just has to be over. That's all."
They went the rest of the way in silence, down to the underground parking garage. He put her into a shiny black sedan, one of many cars he had. Apparently it seemed appropriate for the occasion. Almost funereal.
He drove her home in silence. She could tell he was fuming. She looked at him, but he wouldn't look at her. She stopped crying and dried her tears. He stopped in front of her brick house and let her out. As soon as she had closed the car door he drove away. He usually waited 'til she was inside. She walked sullenly up the walk and Allie rushed out to meet her.
"My God, where have you been? Never mind. We've been telling Sheridan you’re in the bathroom being sick. Now, get your ass in there!" she hissed quietly as she dragged her up the walk.
She went to work and home again in a fog for the next few days. She would only tell Allie that Geoff had broken up with her. That was all. Allie kept giving her spontaneous hugs.
Three days had gone by. She told Allie she would close up the juice bar alone, then walk the five blocks home. Allie said okay and left without her. Then it started to rain.
Fugue Page 4