Time Out (23 page)

I was just relieved that something felt familiar and safe as we climbed up the long ladder to the side of the stage and then headed down a long corridor to another smaller ladder onto the lighting platform below.

There were actually two lighting platforms that hung down below the pavilion roof, one on either side of the pavilion, and apparently a man from Vance’s security was on the other platform because Harlow had insisted he couldn’t do his job properly with someone he didn’t know breathing down his back or, at least that’s how Riley explained it to me in an attempt to make me feel better. Whatever the reason, I was just glad that it wasn’t our platform.

You’d never guess the same man that turned around in his swivel chair to beam up at us was the same guy giving Vance a hard time; a trait I quickly liked about Rob Harlow.

“Hey, Joie, this is a nice surprise,” he got up and pulled me in for an unexpected hug. “We’re glad to have you back. Riley hasn’t been the same since you left.”

“I didn’t know you were missing me that much,” I turned to Riley.

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t let him grow in a beard or anything,” Harlow laughed, and I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t care if anyone overheard him. “But yeah,
we’re
both glad you’re back,” he smiled, and playfully patted Riley’s arm.

I know that Riley insisted Harlow was still in the closet when it came to telling people he was gay, but by the way things were quickly developing between the two of them, I wasn’t sure that Riley was going to have to wait that much longer.

It wasn’t long before Riley and Harlow found themselves in another deep conversation about what lighting arrangements they were planning to do for the show and what arrangement went with each song on the set list.

Harlow, who used to never make an appearance before the show, was a veteran at this kind of stuff and could probably maneuver the lights in his sleep, but he was obviously taking the time to teach Riley everything he knew and that made me happy.

By the time the entire lighting crew were in there designated spots around us, the arena below was nearly filled. I scanned the sea of faces, and could almost feel the crowd start to come alive with the anticipation for Hawkins and the rest of the band to finally cross the stage.

We didn’t have the closest view of the stage because the lighting platform practically sat overtop of the last seats in the venue, so I was able to see what I couldn’t quite understand. There, in upper pavilions seats, was one of the trader’s recording devices connected to a seat. The placement was weird because they usually put them in the front when suddenly another thought popped up in my mind.

“Riley, I thought they weren’t letting in any electronics?”

“They aren’t. With Vance’s security, you can’t get anything in.”

“Well, isn’t that a trader’s recorder?” I said pointing to the microphone sticking up above the rest of the crowd in the second pavilion seats below which were the furthest from the stage.

Riley just stared at it before finally saying, “That shouldn’t be there.” I could hear the fear creeping into his voice, and I didn’t know if all of the threats were making us paranoid or not. That was until I spotted a blonde headed girl in a short green sundress work her way down the row of seats until finally coming to a stop in front of the equipment.

I felt myself suddenly go cold inside as if frozen to the spot like in a nightmare when I couldn’t spring to action fast enough because standing there in front of that microphone was
Gweniverie
Warren.

“Shit,” Lizzie and I said together as Riley gasped.

I quickly turned around and nearly collided into another guy from the crew on my way to the platform’s ladder. I knew that it wasn’t just a coincidence, especially when I knew the makeshift bomb had been placed under her seat that night in Chicago. Except this time, I knew that it wasn’t our government who had rigged the equipment. 

“Joie—wait!” Riley called after me as I climbed up the ladder and then ran down the hallway.

“I don’t have time to wait!” I shouted frantically over my shoulder as I grabbed onto the other ladder that dropped down to the side of the stage.

When I finally landed on the ground, I overheard Riley shout, “Joie, if it’s really what we think it is,” he quickly climbed down the rest of the ladder. “Then it could be triggered by a number of things, like a person in the crowd. If they see you messing with it, they might detonate the thing.”

“Well they’re going to do it one way or the other,” I insisted as I quickly looked around for any sign of the band, but couldn’t find Hawkins anywhere.

“But you could be killed,” he pleaded for me to stop.

“Listen,” I turned to Riley and explained. “I’m short. I’m a girl. They’ve never seen me before so they won’t have any reason to become suspicious. Stay here and try to get ahold of Vance.” But before Riley could say another thing, or grab me up like how he was about to do, I turned to race down the side of the stage and to the steps below.

No one stopped to check to see if I had a ticket on me in the orchestra pit because security never seemed to care about the people moving further away from the stage. Except I knew that
everyone
might be in danger, no matter how close they were to the band or not, especially if the real terrorists had succeeded at creating what appeared to be a recorder but was really a bomb. I assumed they must have, if it got past Vance’s security at the gates which meant we were all in trouble; the kind of trouble that blasted out a chunk the size of a crater in the 02 Arena in London.

My heart was practically racing outside of my chest, but I acted nonchalant as I walked up the steps toward the second pavilion seating. I scanned the crowd looking for anyone who didn’t seem to
belong
as I closed in the distance between Gwyneth and me.

For the first time, being short was actually a plus as I turned down Gwyneth’s row and shuffled past the other tall frat boys. I eyed the black microphone over her chair as I watched her sip on her beer, completely unaware that I was steadily approaching her. A part of me was seriously praying that I was just being paranoid as my eyes drifted down to the small box positioned underneath her seat.

The crowd suddenly roared to life as Hawkins crossed the stage solo tonight. The sight of him alone reminded me of the night the stage collapsed, and for a second I froze as if waiting for the world to cave in. Thankfully, Gwyneth did a double take in my direction before her eyes finally locked with mine. I tilted my head in the direction of the recording equipment behind her and mouthed, “We have a problem.” She followed my gaze and quickly snapped her eyes back up to mine with alarm.         

Gwyneth took a quick glance behind her before turning to smile at me. I didn’t understand at first what she was doing until she began to
gush
a bunch of nonsense like we were long lost friends but I didn’t catch a word of it because of all the shouting and hooting going on around us. I quickly realized she was putting on the show for anyone who might be watching us.

She then squeezed my hand and guided me down to the seats below now that everyone was standing. Not having enough time to chitchat, I slid the bomb forward with my foot and in the
process,
the ‘recorder’ part came out halfway from the carrying case around it. Sending a sickening shiver into the pit of my stomach because there on the top of it was a timer that indicated we had less than three minutes to figure out what we were going to do with it. Something about the timer though immediately changed Gwyneth’s whole demeanor. She dropped her shoulders in relief; in fact her whole body looked a fraction more at ease, but I had no clue as to why.

Gwyneth reached up to rip the locket off of her neck before lowering it discreetly into my hand. We exchanged a brief but haunting look. I had seen the expression before when Hawkins had made the decision to sacrifice his life for mine though I didn’t get a sense that’s why she was giving me the locket now. I knew that she felt responsible for everything that had happened in her past and what was happening right now.

“Tell Warren that I love him,” she mouthed and before I could stop her, she quickly picked up the ‘recorder’ and took off down the aisle in the opposite direction. I closed my eyes for a second, half expecting to get blown into pieces since Gwyneth had clearly moved the bomb. When it didn’t go off, I realized what she must have understood when she saw the timer on the bomb seconds earlier; that the person who had rigged it was probably long gone by now.

Finding my feet again, I took off after her down the row of people.

“Out of my way!”
I shouted as I rounded the end of the row and rushed down the second pavilion pathway toward the steps facing the lawn. The walkway in front of the lawn was packed full of people, and I only caught a few glimpses of her blonde hair flying in and out of the crowd up ahead.

Once I was out by the vendors, I shoved the locket in my pocket as I looked back and forth, but I didn’t see her anywhere. I turned to my left and raced up toward the amphitheater gates in the direction of the parking lot. It was the only place I figured she would go to protect everyone else. I skidded through the exit to the pavilion seconds later and scanned the parking lot looking for her until my eyes fell on the back of her blonde hair and petite frame as she sprinted for the woods in the distance.

“Gwyneth!” I shouted as I ran after her. I understood that she wanted to protect as many people as she possibly could but there couldn’t have been that much time left before the bomb detonated.

“Throw it and run!” I hollered at the top of my lungs because she was at least the length of a football field away from me by now, but she didn’t even look back as she continued to race away. “Throw it and run!”

Flooded with emotions, I choked back a few tears when suddenly a white heat seared along my skin and an invisible force tossed me back through the air causing my body to land with a crashing blow on the ground before everything went dark.

Chapter
Seventeen

Albert Pike once said about death, “What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” If Gwyneth scarifying her life to save twenty thousand others wasn’t immortal, I didn’t know what was.  

When I came to again, I was in the hospital bed, and judging by the thin gown I was wearing and the IV hooked up to the back of my wrist, I knew that I must have been there for a while.

I sat up, and quickly regretted doing so, because my back felt as if a layer of skin had been scraped off of it. Grimacing, I slowly adjusted until the pain wasn’t completely unbearable. The sudden movement caused Hawkins to stir in the hospital’s recliner beside my bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Beat up,” I smacked my dry lips but was too tired to tell Hawkins not to fuss over me as he poured me a glass of water.

“Thanks,” I took a sip and felt a moment of relief.

“Riley and Lizzie stayed by your side the entire night, but I told them to go back to the tour bus and rest up until they heard from me. Your mom’s here though. You just missed her. She went to get a cup of coffee.”

“My
mom
?
How long have I been out?”

“Not that long, all of last night and most of today.”

“Then how—”

             
“I sent someone to pick her up with my jet.”

             
“Well, she must have liked that,” I emphasized.

             
“I think she liked the gesture,” he flashed a smile as if winning my mom over was a part of his plans. He then cleared his throat, and asked more seriously, “Do feel well enough to tell me what happened with Gwyneth? I only ask because I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to be alone again, and Vance has been going nuts trying to reach me; I had to literally turn off my phone.”

             
The mention of Robert Vance’s name made me quickly grab at where my pockets had been last time I was conscious, but after quickly realizing that someone had changed me out of my clothes, I was frantic that I might have lost the microchip.

             
“Where are my clothes?”

             
“I already packed them with the other clothes I brought for you to leave in,” he explained.

             
“And the locket was it in my jean pocket?” I kept my voice down so no one would overhear us as Hawkins’ eyes darted over to mine.

He seemed surprised, “Did she give it to you?”

“Is it still in my jean pocket?” I repeated, not having the patience to wait for answer.

             
“Uh, I
dunno
know,” he sat up and walked around my bed. He opened a thin closet and bent down to sift through the bag of clothes he brought for me.

             
Once he found my jeans, he searched the first pocket, but didn’t find anything, causing my heart to suddenly race. What if someone had lost it in the process of changing my clothes? It was a very small piece of jewelry after all. My growing anxiety was short lived though, when he pulled out Gwyneth’s thin gold necklace from my other jean pocket and the perfect circular locket dangled free in the air.