by Brinda Berry
“I need the numbers you gave her. Can you text them to my phone?”
“Sure. What else can I do to help?” Teddy’s calm voice centers my racing thoughts.
“Search online for Malerie’s podcast. Find her co-host. Collin. Email, call, do whatever you can to contact him and give him my cell number.” I run to the door. “Tell him it’s an emergency and to call me. I need help finding Malerie.”
“Good luck,” Teddy says.
I hang up without responding to that bit of advice. I’ll find her without needing luck because I will search every street and building within a ten-mile radius and then move out farther. After the airplane drama, I know she hasn’t hopped on a flight. She doesn’t drive, so there’s no fear that she’s rented a car.
Failing her isn’t an option.
My phone buzzes with Teddy’s text. Eight numbers. I stop on the sidewalk to study them. Eight numbers to the fifth decimal place and I’m worried I’m looking at meaningless strings of digits.
Malerie figured out the Moon language code. If the numbers do mean something, she’s figured it out by now. Perspiration wets my hairline.
Another text comes in from Teddy. “The numbers are paired. First two together, second two, etc.”
Shit. As if that makes a difference to me. I start walking again and look inside the restaurant next door to the hotel. I wish I had Malerie’s photo to show people. On a whim, I type in the podcast name and pull up a profile.
Like magic, Malerie’s and Collin’s faces appear in a postage-sized box on my phone’s browser. I race into the restaurant and show a hostess the image. She hasn’t seen anyone who looks like Malerie. I go into the next shop, a clothing store, and the restaurant beside it and want to bash in a wall when I realize I won’t get anywhere like this.
I need to be smarter. My phone rings and I glance at the unknown number.
“Hello.”
“Hey. Is this Ace? This is Collin.”
“Man, I am so happy to hear from you. Malerie’s missing and I need help. You haven’t talked to her, have you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. Did you two fight?”
“No. Well, I … I was a jackass. And now I need to find her. So, you know where she is?”
“Yeah, bro. She went to the JBQ concert.”
I’m confused and angry and glad. I’m the trifecta of emotional overload. The girl brings it all out in me, and I don’t know what to do with it. The best medicine will be taking her in my arms and never letting her go.
“Great. Tell me the location?” I stop my frenzied race down the sidewalk I didn’t realize I’d continued.
Collin calls off an address, and I nod like he can see me. He tells me to remember to get the backstage pass from the concert window and give him a call if I need help. I’m so damn happy to know where she is that I think I might start whistling a happy tune.
I’ll make up everything to her. I said I’d been real before, but it was a lie. The real me wants to stand by her side and make her understand she’s not getting rid of me.
* * *
“I’m telling you. My girlfriend has a ticket for me here.” People are lined up behind me at the ticket window.
“Sir, everyone says that. I do have Malerie Toombs on my list. Your name is not on the list. She did pick up a ticket, but I cannot give the remaining ticket to you if your name is not on the list.” The grandma type seated on the other side of the ticket window looks past my shoulder at the impatient guy waiting his turn.
“Move along, dude. She says you don’t have a ticket.” The guy with multiple piercings folds his arms and steps closer.
I turn back to the window and urge my brain to improvise. “Listen. You look like a nice lady. I really have to get that ticket. It’s very important.” I’m not above begging at this point.
The guy behind me is so close I swear he’s gonna kiss my neck. There’s a nasally sound as he spits a nasty-ass glob onto the concrete beside us. I toss a steely glare over my shoulder and he moves back with a sigh.
“And I am a nice lady, but I’m going to get security over here if you don’t move from this line,” she says.
I detect a slight air of pity in her tone. I reach one hand forward on the counter. “I love this girl and I messed up. But I can’t let her think I don’t care. Haven’t you ever messed up and needed a chance to be honest about how you feel?”
A flicker of sympathy lights her eyes.
Mr. Impatient Dude behind me leans in. “Aw … Grandma, please give him the ticket so we can all get our tickets?”
“I need to see your identification,” the older woman says. I push it into the tray underneath the glass and she doesn’t actually look before returning it with a ticket.
“Next,” she says.
I grab the ticket and run. The front doors are thick with building security checking purses and people. It’s difficult to hide my anxiety and desire to run past them into the building. My phone vibrates with a call.
I recognize Teddy’s number. “Hello.”
“Ace? Teddy.”
“Yeah. I’ve found her. Thanks for your help earlier.”
“I forgot something important.”
I stop in my tracks. An uneasy premonition of bad news crawls around in my head. “What, Teddy?”
“The UNIX timestamp. You know there’s forty-five minutes until the time on that fourth box?”
The premonition sinks its teeth into my chest. “Teddy, what was the image on that fourth box?”
“A temple.”
“What else?”
“Some people are lying around dead like it’s a temple in a war zone.”
I press END and stare at my screen. I pull up Teddy’s text again and stare at the numbers. On a hunch, I search the last two numbers in the list.
I hope I’m wrong. If I can be wrong, please let it be now.
The phone shakes in my hands as I pull up the GPS app and enter two sets of numbers. The longitude and latitude of the arena where I stand.
Fuck me.
The numbers are GPS coordinates. It’s obvious my brilliant Malerie figured that out already, or she wouldn’t be here without me.
I pull up my call log and dial Collin. “Hey, Ace here. I need your help. It’s a matter of life and death.” I grimace at the clichéd truth.
“What do you need? It’s yours.”
“Can you come to the concert? I’m going to carry her out of this place, kicking and screaming if I have to. I need you to take her and make sure she is okay. Come to the west doors.”
“All right. That’s a weird request and she’s gonna be pissed as hell, but I said anything so I’m heading out the door.”
“I owe you,” I answer.
“Yes. Twice you’ve said that and I’m counting.”
I click off and glance at my watch. Thirty minutes before all hell breaks loose if last night is an indication of things to come. The crowd is thick with fans buying drinks and programs. I weave to the backside of the stage and stop when a security guard stops my way through a door.
“This area is for authorized personnel only,” he says.
I nod and move away. “Wrong way I guess.” I shrug and walk in the opposite direction. I walk down to the next section and inside toward the seats. Malerie has to be somewhere nearby. I swing a leg over a rail and drop into the section below.
Sections are graduated and I’m able to look up and see the section above me and a box section above that. Five or six people stand at the front of seats in the box. My shoulders sag in relief at what I see. She’s here.
“Malerie,” I yell, but she doesn’t hear. She doesn’t look anywhere but straight ahead. I can see she’s looking around for something and I need to get her before she disappears into a crowd somewhere. It’s already noisy and the lights are dimming. I check my watch.
I grab hold of the edge above me, pull myself up to the bars and climb up into the next section. Two teenage girls gape at my intrusion, a
nd then smile. There’s no way I can get Malerie’s attention because she doesn’t look down. Two young guys stand to her right.
“Hey, can you help me?” I ask the girls. To my left, a security guard has probably noticed my ascent up the railings as he is heading my way with a stern, unwavering stare.
The girls nod. “Sure,” they answer in unison.
“That girl above us? See the boys beside her? Can you get their attention so she’ll look down here?”
One of the girls who can’t be older than thirteen throws her tiny purse up to hit the guys above us. Not exactly what I had in mind. The purse hangs halfway into the box seat section and Miss Ingenuity follows it with a wolf whistle.
Again, I have to give the kid props.
Malerie glances at the guy beside her holding a purse, follows his gaze down, and score. She sees me. Shock blossoms on her face and she checks her phone. I know she’s looking at the time. She frantically shakes her head and motions for me to leave. I point at her and mouth, ‘You.’
A firm grip on my arm lets me know the security guard isn’t happy with my current position, hanging on the wrong side of the railing. He pulls me along the edge and through a gate to his side. I struggle to peer around him since I’ve lost sight of Malerie.
The guard, a guy with hand muscles like vice grips, pushes me into the outside corridor. “You can’t go through the seats like that again or I’ll have to throw you out.”
“Mal!”
She stands several yards away at another seating entrance. People mill around her but she doesn’t move.
“Why are you here?” Her voice breaks before she runs at me and shoves me. “You can’t be here.”
“I need to tell you something.”
“There’s not time.” She bites her lip. “Please.” Her voice breaks. “Oh please. If you care about me at all. Just go.”
I grab her arm and pull her up to me. “I more than care. I’m crazy about you. I should’ve told you last night. And if you think I’m letting you throw yourself in front of any bullets or into fires, you are out of your pretty head.”
I swing her up into my arms. She tears at my shirt. “Let me down. You don’t understand,” she sobs. “You don't know what’s going to happen. My mother died because of me. JT died. I can’t let you and all these people die. I know something is going to happen below that section, and I have to stop it. I saved people last night. And I didn’t run away and no one died. No one.”
“Sorry,” I say to the security guard walking up to me. “She hasn’t had her medication today.”
“Let me go, you asshat!”
The guard walks with me. “Are you going willingly with him, Miss?” the uniformed guard asks Malerie.
“See, sweetheart,” I say to Malerie in a calm, conversational tone, “this guy is going to arrest me if you don’t stop.”
“I’m going to strangle you.” Malerie kicks her feet.
“She’s threatening,” I add as the guard opens the outer exit doors for us. “I’m taking her out of here.” I push through the door and can see the guard is glad not to deal with us.
Collin stands outside. I set Malerie on her feet, and she promptly tries to free herself from my arms. She swings at my face and a blow glances off my cheek, cutting me with her nails or a ring.
“Hold on to the little MMA fighter. Might get her to your car. Something’s wrong in there.” I nod toward the building. “Meet me at the hotel,” I say to Malerie and put a finger under her chin. “You’d better be there.”
“You can’t do this. Stop,” Malerie screams and Collin winces.
“Yes, I can. I love you, Malerie,” I say and lean over to kiss her cheek. I barely miss a head butt. She begins to cry and kick Collin.
“Settle down, Malerie. People are going to get the wrong idea,” Collin says. “She loves you, too. That’s what she means to say, brother.” He smirks and almost loses his grip on her.
I look at them one last time, Collin visibly restraining Malerie and Malerie looking like she might put some major hurt on Collin before it’s over. I shake my head and re-enter the building through security once more.
The GPS coordinates lead me to a door underneath the box where Malerie stood minutes earlier. A guy in a security T-shirt stands in front of the door, and gives me a once over.
“Excuse me. Can you tell me the time?” I gauge the probability that the guy knows anything about what might happen tonight.
“I don’t have the time,” he answers without taking his gaze off me. I glance down and notice a black watch wristband. He’s sweating worse than I am.
I narrow my eyes, stand to his side like we’re old buddies, and wait for inspiration. If I knock him out, there’s a chance that either a) I’ve picked the wrong guy out of this prophecy henchman lineup or b) I’m right on target because this guy looks like he’s placing hundred-dollar bets with only a pair of fives.
“This is a secured area. You’ll have to move along,” he says. “You can’t stand here.”
Fifteen minutes is not enough time to dick around in case this guy has a bomb or bullets or whatever doomsday device he’s brought. He gets more nervous every second. I need a full house of security guards. Pronto.
If it’s a bomb, I might need him conscious. I slam the guy into the door with such force, his head pops against it with a loud boom.
He blinks rapidly and his mouth drops into an oval-shaped angry grimace, teeth bared like a cornered animal. “You’d better move away from me.”
“What are you going to do about it?” My positive ID that he’s up to something manically crazy is reinforced when he doesn’t try to call for some help.
“Leave. Or I’ll shut your mouth. Permanently.”
Positive ID of a psycho. Security staff at concerts don’t threaten to dim your lights for good.
I draw my right arm back to fake a hook, drop it, and rotate my body with an uppercut to his jaw. He grunts loudly and falls back, only to shake it off and lunge forward. He slams a fist into my face. The impact jolts my balance, but I recover.
There’s the sound of shoes slapping against concrete as people run away from us.
He backs up and I’m surprised to see the gun he’s pulled while I blinked away the stun of his hit to my face. The black barrel of the semi-automatic points at me, steady as his unwavering eye contact.
I can handle beating this guy down, but I’m helpless with the gun pointed at me. My mouth goes dry and my brain tells me to get the gun out of his hands. Do it. Do it.
“Drop the gun,” yells a commanding voice in the periphery.
Will a cop put a bullet in this guy faster than he can blow my brains out? Maybe or maybe not.
The guy looks me straight in the eyes, and I know he’s going to pull the trigger because he doesn’t give a shit if he lives or dies. It’s not just me and this guy with his gun. He’s guarding that door for a reason. He has something bigger planned only minutes away.
He hasn’t shot me yet because he’s stalling.
I want him distracted for a second. Only for a second and I can get that gun out of my face. The bass ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum of my heartbeat booms in my head.
“You a Jelly Bean fan?”
His eyebrows move a fraction lower and I rush him, running straight forward like I’ve got a battering ram. We’re up against the door. With one hand on his shooting arm and my forearm pressing on his windpipe, I hope I’m stronger than he is.
I slam his wrist repeatedly against the door and the gun discharges. I hope no one was within range. Another hard slam.
The gun slings out of his fingers and two cops appear, pulling me away and taking the guy to the floor.
“He’s got something in the room. You’ve got to get into that room. Now.” I’m struggling to sound rational, but I know we’re almost out of time.
An officer opens the door, turns to a guy in a suit. “What’s in this room?”
The suit guy answers in a low voice and I can
’t hear what he says. He types something into his cell and there’s a frenzy of activity.
The crazy guy on the floor is held down and cuffed. He turns his head to make eye contact with me and smiles. I’m being pulled away by a cop like I’m the bad guy.
Sirens sound as the cop escorts me outside.
We pass a guy with a buzz cut who looks like he eats nails with his Cheerios breakfast. I hear what he says into his cell. “Yeah. We’re evacuating.”
The crowd pours out of the concert area and the cop still has my arm. I wonder if he’s going to cuff me.
“I need to see some ID and I need to take you to the station for some questions.”
“You arresting me?” I ask even though it’s the least of my worries. Malerie isn’t inside the building and that’s all that matters.
“No.” He doesn't elaborate and takes the ID I pull out for him.
People herded out of the concert arena are unruly and upset. I stare at the building, waiting for some explosion of movie proportions.
Nothing happens.
The officer opens his car for me. Great. Nothing like the shitty feel of riding in the back of a cop car. At least I’m not cuffed. He gets into the front and calls in with my ID.
“Can I call my girlfriend? Let her know I’m okay?” I ask.
“Go ahead.”
I pull out my cell and speed dial Malerie.
“Ace.” She says my name in a breathy whisper before I can say anything. Her voice melts my bones. The girl could work a phone sex hotline.
“Wanted to tell you everything’s okay. You with Collin?”
“Yes. We’re still in the parking lot. He took my pass from me so I couldn’t get back in. But I wouldn’t leave you.”
I laugh at the image of the fight that must’ve been. “I’m going with a cop to answer some questions, but don’t worry. Go on to the hotel. Please, sweetheart. Let Collin take you, and I’ll be back at the room later. I promise.”
“Why are all the people coming out of the arena? What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get to the room.” I don’t tell her that I need to get off the phone and call an attorney. Even innocent people can say the wrong thing in a police station, and the truth will have me turned over for a psych evaluation.