Authors: Gabrielle Goldsby
“I’ll make us something to eat, soon,” he said. “First I want to know something.” Jake walked into the room and squatted close to Abe. Abe forced himself to continue to breathe. “Did you do all this? Make everyone go to asleep?”
“Yes, I suppose I did.” He could have explained more, and he would, if he had to kill more time, but for right now, his main objective was to get little Jake a safe distance away from him.
“Wow!” Jake looked around the room as if he were seeing the wallpaper for the first time. “I can’t believe this shit. How much money they paying you?”
“They? They who?”
“Somebody’s got to be paying you for this. Doctors make good money, right? I bet you’re rich. Are you a surgeon?”
“Yes, I’m trained as a surgeon, but I’m not rich. I’m a researcher.”
The look on Jake’s face told Abe that he didn’t believe him, and in truth, it had been a partial lie. While it was true that as a researcher his salary wasn’t as high as a specialized surgeon, he was considered wealthy by most people’s standards. He had, to coin a phrase, married well.
“How much are you going to charge the government?”
“Charge the government?” Abe caught Jake’s look of exasperation.
“Yeah, you’re going to make them pay for this, right?”
“It doesn’t work like that. You have to prove that your research is viable first. And then you can get a grant.”
“I bet somebody is going to pay you a lot for this.”
“It’s not about that. My research is supposed to help…” Abe stopped speaking because he could tell Jake wasn’t listening.
“I can’t believe anyone could do something this cool. It’s like being inside a video game.”
Cool? He had never been called cool before. There may have been a time in his life when he would have been flattered by a teenager’s admiration. But that phase in his life had passed a long time ago.
“Like being inside a video game,” Jake had said. It was as if he had no concept of the consequences of his actions, because none of it was real.
“I haven’t been to the store. Peanut butter, okay?”
“What?”
“You eat peanut butter?”
“That’s fine, thank you.” Abe hated peanut butter, but he wouldn’t do anything to piss Jake off. Jake walked away without another word. Every so often music from the video game Jake had been playing blared its mindless audio loop. Abe could hear cabinets and the refrigerator door being opened and slammed shut.
He had no idea how much time he had left. He did know that the longer he kept Jake talking, the longer he kept the boy occupied, the better. Jake returned carrying a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk.
Jake sat down so close to him that Abe could smell the odor of Jake’s unwashed body mingled with the peanut butter. Jake held the sandwich up to Abe’s mouth, his face expressionless with the exception of the slight hint of boredom. Abe couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that he had done this before.
He leaned forward to take a bite. He tried to ignore the dirt-encrusted nails that held the bread. His stomach protested the food. Abe pushed the vision of Reba Stefani to the back of his mind. Had the hands that made this sandwich been washed after killing her? Would they kill him, too? He hadn’t been wrong about this boy’s parents.
They were good people who couldn’t understand why their son was in a coma.
“I wanted to see if she would die.”
Abe stopped chewing; peanut butter and white bread melded his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“You saw Mother and Father?”
Abe grunted and forced the food down, thankful when the lump went down his esophagus after a scary pause. The boy offered him some of the milk. He drank it, not because he was thirsty, but because it was something to do, something to give him more time.
Jake put the plate on the floor next to the half-empty glass of milk. “I’m going to go finish my game.” He stopped in the doorway, his head cocked to the side again. Abe thought he looked like a small mongrel dog that had grown lean and mean from years on his own. His left hand cupped his crotch.
“They left me in that place alone.” His voice sounded young and hurt. “I had to walk all the way home and I found them sleeping. I cut and cut, but they kept breathing. No matter what I did, they kept breathing. That’s why I cut her open. I wanted to see if she would keep breathing, too.”
Abe inhaled, horrified.
When he spoke again, Jake’s voice reminded Abe of a small child—perhaps a boy of seven.
“How come she stopped breathing? What did you do to us?”
*
I won’t do this to her. I won’t leave her here alone
. She couldn’t open her eyes or move yet, but she took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of coconut. “I hear you, baby.” Troy’s voice had gone hoarse in its excitement. “You just have to open your eyes now.”
“Troy.”
“I’m right here, I’m right here.” Her words sounded like a moan.
“Didn’t leave.” Emma forced out.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You just open those beautiful eyes for me, okay?”
She was careful to keep her voice soft as she held her so close she could feel her breath on her ear. Peaches and coconuts enveloped Emma and she reached for it. Took it into her core and used it as a tether to the present.
“I am so sorry that you got stuck here with a weak ass like me. I was so scared of you, Emma. Scared that I might have to let my relationship with Patricia go. I was a coward.” Troy buried her face in Emma’s neck. Emma realized then that they were both lying on the floor.
“Did I pass out?”
Troy leaned forward as if her head was too heavy for her to lift.
“Look at me, please.”
Troy sat up, and Emma could see her red, swollen eyes. Troy looked away first. “I couldn’t wake you up.”
Emma put her hand up to Troy’s cheek, hating how contorted and pained her face looked. “Help me sit up, all right?”
Emma noticed that Troy’s hands were shaking as she helped her sit up. Emma swallowed; the pain had receded a great deal but the dull ache between her eyes persisted.
“Is your head hurting?”
“Not as much as before. I’m a little stiff, though.”
“I was too afraid to move you.”
Emma searched Troy’s face. “Stop blaming yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“Now you’re not telling the truth,” Emma said and she leaned back as if Troy had taken a swing at her. “Don’t lie to me, please. I can tell.”
“I forgot about that.” Troy looked so abashed that Emma had to smile.
“Good,” she said. “It means you’re getting used to it.”
“Do you think you can stand?” Troy looked toward the window seat. “You’d be more comfortable up there.”
“In a few minutes I’ll try, all right?”
Fear was rolling off Troy in fits and waves. So much so that Emma wondered if Troy had even heard her.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
Troy looked as if she wanted to speak, but nothing came out at first. “I was scared you wouldn’t wake up.”
“No, this happens sometimes. It’s my body’s way of dealing with the pain from the migraines.”
Troy touched the scar on the side of Emma’s neck. “I was so scared.”
“Listen to me. I won’t, of my own free will, leave you, unless you ask me to. All right?” Emma wished she could say more.
There will be time for that after we’re safe.
A feeling of slow understanding overpowered Troy’s fear.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“Yes, I do,” Emma said.
“I’m the one who should be comforting you.” Troy laughed. “Damn, look at me.” She brushed hard at the side of her face with one hand but didn’t release her grip on Emma’s fingers. “I won’t leave you, either.”
“I know you won’t. Now, you should help me up.”
“Do you need more of the pills first?”
“No, I’m fine. How long was I out?”
“A little over four hours, I think.”
Emma gasped. “I’ve never been out that long.”
“I couldn’t wake you. I kept thinking I had forced you to go out there and you’d gotten infected with something.”
“I haven’t had a migraine in over a year, so I didn’t think to mention that it could happen.” The memory of what triggered the migraine came flooding back to her. “I just need a few minutes and we can get going.”
“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”
“He knows where we are.”
“I won’t risk letting you pass out again.”
“And I won’t risk him coming back and finding us here. I think we should go.”
Emma sensed Troy’s apprehension before she asked, “Do you sense anything?”
Emma had never been asked that question before. Her answer was sharp. “It doesn’t work that way. You were right when you said I was scared of trusting it. When I was attacked, it didn’t warn me. I never even saw it coming. I won’t trust your life to it this time.”
Troy’s eyes didn’t seem focused. Emma grabbed Troy’s hand. “Troy, are you listening?”
Troy stood up. “I’ll help you grab a few things,” she said. Her voice was soft and concerned, but Emma could feel coolness creep between them, like a door left open on a fall evening.
*
“Troy?” Emma’s voice was sharp and close to her ear.
“Hmm, did you say something?”
“Yes, I’ve been speaking to you for the last couple minutes.”
Troy’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking about something.”
“That’s obvious, although the ‘baby’ thing almost makes it better. You want to tell me what has you so deep in thought you weren’t listening to a word I was saying?”
Troy shook her head. “Not right now. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Where we’re going?”
“That’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about. I work—worked—in a building about a mile from here. It’s not pretty, but Raife’s got a state-of-the-art security system in there. Not to mention it was a textiles factory before it closed during World War II. It’s built like a tank. No one’s going to get in there—not without us knowing it. And I know where Raife keeps a Hide-a-Key.”
“Raife’s your boss?”
“He’s the owner of Quick Fast, the company I work for, and he’s also my friend.” Troy went to the window again, as she had about ten times in the last hour.
Jealousy pulled at Emma’s heart. Aside from Patricia, Troy had never mentioned having anyone else in her life. And now she seemed so distant and preoccupied.
Even the endearment of “baby” earlier had been nothing more than a distracted slip of the tongue. Emma felt like she could have been anyone standing there talking to Troy. Troy hugged herself and Emma turned away to take one last look around the condo.
Hardwood floors, bright walls, small open kitchen, new -ooking appliances. Emma hadn’t noticed how unlived-in the place looked until now. She walked into her bedroom. Her comforter lay half on the bed and half off. The sheets looked more mussed than they ever had before. Emma walked over and picked up Troy’s shirt. She was stalling, and she knew it, but this was her home and—
“You’re afraid you’ll never see it again.”
Emma jumped and turned to Troy. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Troy wrapped Emma in her arms and held her close. Emma pulled out of Troy’s embrace and picked up the burnt-orange day pack that she had never had reason to carry. She realized that the rest of her life—all of it—was packed in that one bag.
“I’m ready,” she said with a bravado she didn’t feel. She had left her home once in two years, and that was under the misguided notion that there was nothing awake that could hurt her. Now she knew differently.
“All right, I guess we’re out of here, then.”
Emma followed Troy into the living room. The backpack felt too light.
Of course it’s light, you fool. There are only clothes in there.
Emma motioned for Troy to walk out the door first. She took one last look back. She didn’t pause or linger, she just reached inside and turned the lock to the locked position. She could see her keys sitting on the breakfast bar where Troy had placed them. She pulled the door closed without getting them. She would never be able to come back.
The elevator pinged just as the door latched shut. She hesitated again before turning around. Troy was holding the elevator door open. When Troy finally spoke, she sounded distracted. “Come on, baby.” Troy’s voice was soft, coercing her as if she were trying to get Emma to come outside and play instead of leaving her life behind. Emma wanted to strike out; she wanted to make Troy feel like she did. As soon as that thought came, she pushed it away.
Troy was just trying to protect her. Emma sensed when Troy emerged from her personal thoughts and realized Emma was having a hard time. Troy’s face softened and Emma felt the empathy emanating from her. The elevator pinged a rapid protest at being blocked open. Troy didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes and her attention were focused fondly on Emma.
“Come here,” Troy beckoned. “I’ll tell you what’s bothering me.”