by J. Naomi Ay
Walter hadn't bothered to lock the door. He knew there was no way she could escape. He chuckled for a moment, imagining her dragging that table through the town. No junior range champion trophies would help her get rid of that thing.
"Are you ready, Mom?" Walter asked, approaching Adrienne, who had been waiting patiently in a plastic chair.
"Of course, dear," Adrienne replied, jumping to her feet, and patting down her hair. She smoothed out her gown, the one she had worn just for this occasion. "After all, it isn't everyday you meet an Empress," she told Walter upon donning the special dress she usually saved for Christmas Eve when all the residents of the Home joined together for a big holiday party.
This was the most important event of the year, when everyday just waking up was considered a cause for celebration. There was dancing, for the residents who still walked, and singing, for those that could still hear, as well as an exchange of gifts for everyone, breathing or not.
One of the old men wore a red Santa suit, while Adrienne was often chosen to playact as Mrs. Claus. To that end, she had purchased this dress. It was a bright red wool with a floor-length skirt, and a little peplum jacket that flared out.
It could be considered quite lovely if one was into that sort of thing. Certainly, it looked appropriate at the holiday party. However, at the sheriff's pffice in mid spring, it looked completely ridiculous, bordering on insane, but Walter would never say this to his mother.
As Walter walked his mother back to the interrogation room, where the suspected Katie de Kudisha was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he noticed his mother was wearing her pearls. This was an opera length strand of nicely matched white orbs, which Walter's father had given her years ago. Walter thought they were meant to be worn around the neck. However, Adrienne had chosen to drape them through her hair.
"I don't have a tiara," she explained to her son, while fluffing the cloud of white cotton candy-like tresses floating over her pink skull. "And, one must always wear a tiara when meeting a queen."
"I thought you knew her. You're not meeting her for the first time."
Adrienne had not responded to that, as she was too preoccupied searching her jewelry box for other baubles. To that end, she was wearing seven rings, most of them cubic zirconia, or other fakes.
"No one will know the difference," she told Walter as they knocked on the interrogation room door. "I bet Katie's aren't any larger than the ones I've got."
"Whatever," Walter sa9d, shoving the door open, only to discover no one there. "What?"
When Katie found herself alone in the interrogation room, the first thing she did was test the handcuff. It was secure around her wrist, and unfortunately, it was also secure around the table leg. She jiggled it, pulled at it, and picked at it to no avail.
Katie wondered if she might be able to unlock it another way. Maybe, just maybe, she had some kind of supernatural power. Back in space, not long ago, she had made an internal gastric black hole reverse its revolution. Surely, that indicated she had something, some kind of power in her hand.
While she still didn't know what, if anything, she believed of this business about angels, and while she was mostly certain that she wasn’t one of them, there were still some fairly big questions in her mind.
Why did Gabe keep calling her Cassie? And, what about that time Senya had spoken of two angels who had fallen in love?
And then, there was Luka. That was another story altogether. According to him, she had lived a whole other life in some alternate universe, at some point in the past. She had been married to him until Senya, who really wasn't Senya, stole her away.
"Geez."
Katie sighed and put her head down on the table. This was all so confusing, so complicated, so beyond her human brain. Why couldn't she go back to her simple old life, married to an Emperor who was also a bird?
It wouldn't hurt to try though, Katie decided, her head still on the table. If she did have something, some kind of telekinesis, she ought to give it shot.
Katie sat back up, and stared at the handcuff. What would Senya had done in this situation? He would have willed the locking pins to separate. He would have ordered the lock to turn and unlatch. Of course, he would have to know where the pins were, or the way the lock would need to reverse, but he knew these things.
Katie studied the handcuff closer. She narrowed her eyes and tried to imagine the thing opening up.
"Open, open," she said under her breath. “Open up.”
Katie waved her free hand over it just in case that might help. She visualized the metal separating, and her bound hand coming free.
“Open, open,” she repeated. “I will you to open up.”
Nothing happened. If she was an angel, she was totally useless one.
"Well, no surprise there."
Katie sighed again, but with a bit of relief. She lay her head back on the table, letting her cuffed hand lie loosely in her lap. The chain fell down the table, almost to the bottom, where the leg was supposedly bolted to the floor.
But, it wasn’t. The bolt was missing, the screw was loose.
Katie leapt upright, and pushed the table slightly, noting how it scraped against the floor. Then, she lifted the leg into the air, dropping the chain down beneath and setting herself free.
Now, what to do? Although Katie knew the door was unlocked, she couldn’t exactly walk out into the station with a pair of handcuffs dangling from her wrist.
Instead, she decided to hide against the wall, so that when the door opened, Walter wouldn’t see her. He would walk in, and she would surprise him with a calf kick. As he doubled over, she would follow up with a leaping axe kick, after which she would knock him out with a jaw punch. Then, it would be simple enough to relieve him of his taser and Glock. She’d also get the keys to the cuffs for good measure. She’d undo herself, and leave him fastened to his own table.
If someone tried to stop her as she walked away, she’d have to taser them and run. There was no danger of getting shot by a concealed-carry Good Samaritan. All carrying, concealed or not, had been outlawed.
That was the plan, of which Katie was on the cusp of executing, when she heard Walter cry out, “What?”
Immediately thereafter, an elderly woman dressed for a Christmas Ball, passed through the very door Katie was hiding next to.
“Katie,” she called, spinning around on her orthopedic shoes. “Oh, there you are, dear. It’s good to see you again.”
Adrienne attempted a curtsey. Even though it was obviously a move she had practiced, her knees chose not to cooperate. One went one way, and the other another, sending Adrienne nearly plummeting to the floor.
Katie grabbed the woman’s arm, while Walter leapt for Katie’s dangling handcuff. As he yanked her backward and off balance, Katie pulled Adrienne along with them. They ended up on the floor, Katie compressed by this human sandwich of Adrienne giggling on top of her, and Walter’s stomach providing buoyancy from beneath.
“Trying to escape, were you?” Walter growled, dislodging both women and scrambling to his feet. “That’s another offense on your record. You’ll be locked away for a million years.”
“Oh Walter,” Adrienne cried, pulling herself upward, and once again attempting that curtsey.
Katie watched in stunned silence as she realized who the old woman was.
“Not now, Mother,” Walter snapped, yanking Katie’s arms behind her back. He fastened the dangling cuff to her free wrist, and then, shortened the chain so they were both tight.
“Do you remember me, Your Majesty?” Adrienne called. “We were the best of friends in third and fourth grades.”
“Later, Mother.” Walter dragged Katie out of the interrogation room, and through the station. “We’ve got cause enough to send you downtown. I’ve done my part. Now, the Feds will take over.” He shoved Katie into the back of a van. “Sit anywhere,” he chortled. “This is your new limo.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving Katie alone. She sat down o
n a bench, and sighed.
“Adrienne,” she whispered, as the van rumbled to life. “She’s so old. Everyone is old, except for me.” Did the Black Eye Galaxy reverse her aging, or was there something else, something supernatural at play? “Maybe, I really am one of them, even though I can’t do anything.”
At that moment, the backdoor opened again.
“Hello!” Gabe called, jumping on board, and taking the neighboring seat. Like Katie, his hands were bound in a set of cuffs. “How are you doing?” He leaned over, and affectionately kissed her cheek. “This is kind of fun. I’ve never been arrested before.”
"Why did they arrest you?" Katie asked, the van lifting into the air, and pointing its nose at the metal metropolis a short hop away. "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't commit any crimes, did you?"
"I confessed to murder," Gabe replied. "I figured that's a pretty big one."
"Who did you say you murdered?"
"Anne Black," Gabe laughed, the sound like a musical serenade.
"Why Gabe?" Katie shook her head. "Why are you doing this for me?"
"I have to stay with you. I can't let you get lost, or time won't happen like it's supposed to be."
"Who am I, Gabe? Am I one of you? What did I do that I can't remember?"
"Well, Cassie," Gabe replied, as the van bumped to a stop, and the backdoor opened with a screech. "It's a long, long story, and unfortunately, not one that I can tell you about right now."
A gun was pointed inside.
"Get out," a voice hollered. "Hurry it up."
The nice thing about being in communications was that Gabe always knew exactly what to say. He was also very good at modulating his voice. Anyone listening to Gabe speak, naturally believed every word he said, so when Gabe told the federal agents they had made a mistake, they didn't doubt it.
In fact, the agents all nodded their heads, and readily agreed to let the two prisoners go. Katie held out her arms, and watched with relief as an officer removed her cuffs.
"Would you like a gun?" Gabe asked.
"Sure." Katie rubbed her wrists. “May I have one of theirs?”
“The lady would like that one.” Gabe pointed at an agent’s laser. The man unholstered it, and handed it to Katie, thanking her for taking it off his hands.
"Would you like the van, too?" Gabe inquired. "Or, shall we find something smaller down on the street?"
"Something smaller," Katie decided. "Something that doesn’t have FBI written across the side."
Gabe laughed, that musical sound which was both hypnotic and intoxicating at the same time.
“Thanks, guys,” he called, taking Katie’s arm, and escorting her away.
“Communications,” Katie snorted.
“Yes, communications. Personally, I think my specialty is the best.”
Chapter 22
“You are going out again,” Taner remarked to Joanne as she passed him in the courtyard of the villa.
He was standing by the central garden, the flower bed where the hibiscus had turned yellow and brown, and the plummeria had dropped all its leaves. All that remained of the once beautiful foliage were brown sticks and a stump of a root. Even the bougainvillea was starting to rot, which was very distressing to Taner.
Only yesterday, he had spoken to the house gardener, just to make certain that the watering and fertilizing schedule was on course.
“Oh, it is, Mr. Taner,” the gardener had exclaimed, equally distressed. “I’ve tended these plants for years and years. I was here nurturing them, and pruning them even when no one lived in this house. I’ve never seen them in such dire straits. It’s as if the wee plants no longer wish to live.”
“It’s a pity,” Taner remarked, fingering a fallen leaf. “They were all so beautiful once. I remember when this garden was simply glorious.”
“Thank you, sir. I remember too. I shall endeavor to bring it back as best as I can.”
Taner had nodded, and turned to walk away. Unfortunately, just as he did so, a rat scampered out of the mass of diseased and fallen leaves.
It scampered right between his legs, racing across the polished pink marble floors, heading toward the Family kitchen.
“Good heavens!” Taner had screamed. “What was that doing in here?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the gardener cried, setting chase. “They’re everywhere now. Those little buggers are inside, outside, and all around. I’ve set baited traps for them, but in truth, we need some cats.”
“That wouldn’t do,” Taner had mumbled as he hurried away.
He hated rats, always had, never had he thought them cute. However, a cat wouldn’t survive in this house for a minute, and outside it would last even less. That black eagle would have feasted upon it, reducing the cat to bones. Too bad that bloody eagle didn’t eat rats.
“Yes, I’m going out again,” Joanne replied the next day, as Taner was glancing through the garden for those tell-tale rats.
Joanne wondered if Taner was spying on her, as everyone seemed to be these days. Although Joanne had trusted her step-father implicitly, she wasn’t certain of anyone else. All staff members were uneasy, and afraid. They scampered quickly through the building, their eyes cast downward, or filled with suspicion. All chatter in the halls and cafeteria had virtually ceased as they swallowed their meals. No one dare breathe if it was thought His Imperial Majesty was about.
In the week since Steve and Rent had escaped, the villa had been in lock-down, trapping everyone including Joanne inside. No one was allowed out on the beach, and no one could stroll along the grounds. To walk from one room to another required constant scanning of one’s employee pass.
Joanne’s one pleasure, her one remaining escape, was her permission to visit her children or go to the mall. To this end, she was now accompanied by an Imperial Guard, who drove her speedster, and remained within visual range. She was also limited to a grand total of three hours outside.
“Where are you going?” Taner asked, although his attention was distracted, his eyes busily scanning through the dirt.
“I’ve logged it into my schedule,” Joanne snapped haughtily. “I’m going to the mall to have my hair done. I promise I shall return before my curfew.”
“That’s nice, dear. Have a good time. I’m so pleased you are getting out. Someday, I should like to escape from here as well.”
Joanne immediately felt remorse. Taner was just as trapped, even more so, than she.
“Hopefully soon, we will all leave here permanently. Would you like me to bring you something from the mall?” Joanne leaned down and kissed his ruddy cheek. “Some chocolates? A Cinnabon? Something else?”
“Who needs such sweets and treats?” Taner said with a sigh. “Here we have everything any man could desire. Except for rat poison,” he added, as a little rodent once again ran across the house.
“Rat poison,” Joanne repeated, with a sardonic laugh. How coincidental. That was exactly what she was fetching.
Jim knew he had rat poison in the garden shed. He also knew it was the extremely lethal potassium cyanide crystals. The gardener had been complaining mightily about the abundance of rats.
“They’re taking over the whole planet,” he had said.
Jim had to agree. Those little buggers were everywhere. Just yesterday, Gwen had come screaming out of her side of the house.
“There’s one in my bedroom!” she cried.
“I thought you and Todd broke up,” Jim had muttered, while he donned his work boots, found a broom, and went at it.
Actually, Gwen’s rat, the little brown one with the long tail, gave Jim an idea that would ultimately solve his problem with Joanne.
“Hey Gwen,” he had said, as she stood hyperventilating his living room. “You need to get your hair fixed.”
“Really? Is it that bad?”
“Definitely,” Jim replied. “You should make an appointment for the salon at the mall. You know, the one where Joanne de Kudisha goes every Thursday?"
While Gwen was getting highlights foiled in and on the areas where she had gone gray, Joanne was getting her ends trimmed, followed by a soft perm. Inane gossip was exchanged about all the people they both knew. Then, Joanne asked after Shelly and the Admiral.
Gwen replied, they were doing well, or as well as could be expected, and how were Joanne's kids enjoying Rozari, by the way?
School was going well, or as well as could be expected when you're an awkward, multi-species teen from another planet.
"Oh yes," Gwen had sighed. "I remember those years. I wouldn't want to have to live through high school again."
The women smiled, and chuckled companionably.
"We all remember those years," Giorgio proclaimed, teasing Gwen's newly lightened hair around her face. "I'm still traumatized whenever I see a gym locker."
"Why is that?" Vui asked, as she dutifully blow-dried Joanne's long dark tresses.
"I spent the entire duration of tenth grade locked inside one."
Giorgio spun Gwen around in her chair.
"Check out the back, darling. You're going die when you see what a magnificent job I did."
"Beautiful, Giorgio," Gwen replied. "You are a master when it comes to hair."
Then, the two of them air-kissed, as Gwen reached for her purse in order to pay.
In the meantime, Joanne was spun around too.
"How do you like it?" Vui inquired.
"Absolutely fab, Vui," Giorgio answered for her. "Especially in the back. I just love what you did."
"I'm sure it's fine." Joanne smiled tightly, rising to her feet, and clutching her head. “Oh my goodness. I feel a migraine coming on."
"Do you need a pill?" Gwen offered, producing a vial. "I've got a brand new bottle of ibuprofen. Here, you can keep it. Just be careful. Don't take too many, as it's a new formulation and quite strong."
"Oh, thank you, Gwen," Joanne replied, studying the vial in her hand. "How many should I take, and how often?"