Seven Wakings Page 15

  My attention is split. Mac’s rousing and Paul is doing something with his hands. Looks like he’s gesturing numbers.

  I look to Joe and notice a keypad on the elevator. He punches something in. It doesn’t work. Joe looks at me with alarm. I watch Paul’s hands: 9,2,3,1,9,5,3, and start sending Joe the numbers. Mac watches us; I can’t tell if he’s out-of-it or concentrating.

  The music turns off.

  The elevators doors don’t open.

  Shit! I must have missed a number. Joe holds up his hands, as if to say, “It’s not working.” I realize the numbers may be Richard’s birthday.

  I try and send the numbers again, but confuse myself. My brain is fuzzy. He looks down the hall to the room were he was held. He can’t go back. I take a chance, shove my pillow under the covers, slid the key toward Paul, and race to the elevator. Paul shakes his heads in tiny quakes— No! I hear Vanessa’s voice. She’s heading toward the open room. I punch in the numbers and wait. Paul turns up the TV. Vanessa’s voice grows closer. The elevator dings. Paul starts coughing like he’s choking on chalk dust.

  Her heels stop clacking. “If you infect the girls before Daddy sees them, I’ll cut off your testicles and feed them to my dog. Understood?”

  “I’m not sick, Ma’am. I just…”

  “Spare me the tedium.” Her heels clack toward us. “And for Christ’s sake, turn down the TV; it’s giving me a headache.”

  Vanessa’s so close, I can almost feel her energy. Mac and I make eye contact. He seems to sense my desperation.

  Mac shouts to Vanessa. “Hey Gorgeous!”

  Her heels stop short.

  The elevator door opens. Joe gets in. I hesitate.

  Mac props up on an elbow, smiles, and winks at her. “You’re the kind of lady that makes me wish I was ten years older.”

  I feel my features contort like I’m face down in a cow pie.

  Joe yanks me in just before the door closes, then presses the top button. “This is a service elevator. We’ll get off on the upper level— laundry area. Should be quiet up there this time of night.”

  I don’t even think about what time of the day or night it was, I’m too busy ruminating about my pubescent son flirting with a sociopath. “Didn’t that totally creep you out?”

  “Mac flirting with my Vanessa? Yes. But, it was a smart move on his part. Flattery and that smile will make her forget he’s a problem.”

  I know he’s right, but the thought of her seducing my baby boy has me reeling. The elevator opens to a private laundry room: six washers and dryers. The excess here is unfathomable.

  Joe walks to the door, cracks it, and looks around. “Coast is clear. Let’s go this way.” He takes my hand and leads me down the hall to a bedroom in the back. It occurs to me that he would look like the pedophile in this case, but I don’t want to let go. He shuts the door behind us and keeps the lights off. It’s pitch dark. “We’ll have to go out this window and climb down the lattice. It’s covered in ivy, so be careful; it might be slippery.” He turns a latch, lifts the window, and removes a screen. “This is the only corner of the house without a motion detector, so no lights will turn on.”

  I feel my neck get hot; breath gets short. “Uh… don’t mice love ivy?”

  I hear him chuckle. “I forgot about your mouse phobia.”

  “Did you have to fly right past ‘fear’ to ‘phobia?’ Lots of people are afraid of rodents. They’re completely disgusting, with their big teeth and long nails. They’re a horror film, just waiting to eat your eyeballs out of your head.”

  “Wow… I’m sticking with phobia.” There’s a smile in his voice, which I find both charming and irritating. “How about I climb down first and chase them all off?”

  I watch as he descends with the skill of a primate. My turn. It occurs to me that I would rather do anything else other than this: give birth, skydive, set my hair on fire. I try to breathe, but just make myself dizzy. Looking down I see Joe waving me on. This is ridiculous; we have to hurry. I force myself to back out of the window; ballet slippers find thin slats of wood. My tutu catches on a split in the window frame. I want to rip it off, but know to take the “evidence” with me. Gingerly, I un-hook myself.

  Once my footing is sure, I shift my weight from my stomach on the window frame to my feet and grab the lattice with my hands. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Just move. Right foot down, left foot, right hand, left hand.

  Halfway down I feel something brush my hand. I try not to panic; it was probably just a leaf. A chirping sound is close. No it’s more like a squeak. I can’t move.

  Time slows like I’m in a car crash. Something shimmies up my arm. It’s black, got no eyes, a long snout, and witch hands.

  Reaction takes over: I start swatting at my head and don’t realize that I’m falling, that Joe catches me, that I’m rolling around on the wet ground like I’m on fire. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “You’re okay.” Joe touches my arm. “It’s gone. Calm down.”

  Panic subsides, but my heart still races. Tears stain my face, the hair on my body stands up, welts form on my skin. “What the hell was that?” I describe it for him.

  “Sounds like a mole.” Joe holds out a hand, helps me up. “Can we agree on ‘phobia’ now?” He smiles.

  “Yes. Definitely.” I try to straighten my hair, but feel like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.

  Joe leads me into the night, through the woods, and to the edge of a crossroad: Carroll Island and Bowleys Quarters converge atop a cliff. “Either road we chose is exposed; we’ll have to be careful.”

  I hear something.

  Joe stops and looks around, “Do you hear that?” He moves in front of me.

  I peek out from behind him, squint into the dark. “Is that a wolf?”

  “How can you not panic by the sight of a wolf, but you go ballistic with something as small as my thumb?”

  I don’t respond, just shrug.

  “I think it’s a dog. A German Shepherd.”

  “Come here boy. Who’s a good boy?” I move out from behind Joe and crouch down.

  “Rico?”

  As he trots toward us, it doesn’t register that Joe knows his name. I rub behind Rico’s ears and see that there’s a small case strapped to his collar. “What do you have for us, huh boy?” There’s a cell phone inside. “Jackpot!”

  Joe smiles. “Why would he be out here?” He pets Rico’s back, finds his sweet spot.

  “I told Lynette where you were going, remember? I’m sure she knew they took your phone.”

  He seems to search his mind. “Oh yeah…just before I was tasered.”

  I dial her. “Using Rico was a brilliant move.”

  Lynette answers. “Emma?!”

  “Yes… as played by Anna Tyler.” My stomach growls. I’m so hungry; it feels like my body is eating its own organs.

  “Are you safe? Where are you?”

  “I’m with Joe. We’re where Carroll Island Road and Bowleys Quarters come together.” I feel shaky. “You know Chief Lewis is involved, right?

  “Yes. Unfortunately that came through loud and clear. I told Archer as soon as I lost connection with you.”

  “What’s he going to do?” My skin feels clammy.

  “He can’t share that with me.”

  Something occurs to me, makes me sick. “What about the gun and Vanessa’s box?”

  “Luckily the box is still safe. Chief Lewis wasn’t at the station, or Archer would have turned it in. But, the gun is missing and a trace was never run on it.”

  “He’d better hide that box where no one can find it, until we can get a handle on what’s going on.” I put my hands on my knees, feel like I might faint, or throw up, or both.

  “Already done. Archer took it to his house.”

  My mouth starts to water. “Listen. I don’t feel so good.”

  “We’ll be there soon. We were just at the gas station.”

  “Who’s we?”

 
“Kate’s with me, and Archer’s in the car behind us.”

  I shove the phone at Joe, and spin around to vomit.

  He rubs my back. “Lynette, it’s Joe. She doesn’t look so good.”

  A flash in the distance catches my eye. “I bet that’s Lynette.” My legs are shaking; I start to melt sideways.

  Joe see’s me falling, catches me. “Hang on Lynette. She’s about to pass out. ” He braces the phone between his cheek and shoulder, lifts me into his arms, and looks down at me. “What kind of car does Lynette have?” Joe holds me like a sleeping child, carries me to a fallen oak tree, and sits with me sideways on his lap. Rico nuzzles my hand.

  I barely have the energy to speak. “Buick LeSabre; cream colored, old.”

  Joe brushes my hair out of my face, looks at me. “This has been one crazy ride, Kid.”

  “I’m not a kid, I’m…”

  He smiles. “I know… Emma. Emma James.” He puts the back of his hand to my forehead, looks concerned.

  “You believe me?” I start twitching; can’t tell if I’m going through withdrawal, have low blood sugar, am dehydrated.

  He shrugs. “Being a ‘body-jumper’ is easier to accept than the reality Vanessa has created.” Joe looks toward the road. “I think I see you, Lynette; we’ll be right there.” As he stands, he loses the phone; it slides on to my stomach.

  I close it and put it in his left hand.

  Lynette’s car stops at the fork-in-the-road. Her taillights illuminate Archer’s squad car behind her. I remember what Paul said: don’t talk to anyone except at this number.

  Now I’m cautious about Archer. With me cradled in his arms, Joe heads toward them.

  I look up at him. “We don’t know who we can trust anymore. Promise to call the number on the paper?”

  Joe nods. “Promise. As soon as I set you down.”

  Kate runs to us. “Are you okay? Where’s Mac? Is he safe?”

  I can’t respond, have no energy.

  “He’s inside, charming my wife. Probably the safest one in there.” He winks at Kate.

  She smiles. “Thanks for... I don’t know… being a good person. I can see why my mom… trusts you.” Kate walks beside me.

  A poison surges from my stomach and up my throat. I try to lean sideways, but spew vomit at my knees, soaking Joe’s phone hand.

  Without missing a step he says, “I can see where Mac gets his charm.”

  Archer gets out and opens the back door of his squad car. I paw at Joe’s shirt.

  He looks at me. “You’d rather ride with Lynette?”

  I nod.

  Lynette rushes to us with paper towels and Wet Naps. “ I think she’s going through withdrawal.” She wipes us down as we make our way to her car.

  Joe lays me down on the back seat. Lynette wipes my mouth and gives me a little water. Kate covers me with a blanket. As Archer approaches the car, I start to panic.

  Joe must see it in my eyes. “It’s okay.” He pulls the piece of paper out of his wallet. “I’ll call right now.”

  Archer leans down. “Joe and Rico can ride with me. I’ll lead you guys to the nearest hospital.” Archer’s phone rings. He looks at Caller ID and then Joe. “Are you calling me?”

  Joe hangs up. Archer’s phone stops ringing.

  Joe looks at me, then back at the piece of paper. “Let me just try this again.” He redials and Archer’s phone rings.

  Archer takes the piece of paper. “Who gave you this number?”

  Archer’s the contact?! Who does he work for, really?

  “Someone named Paul.”

  “What did he say…exactly?”

  I want to remind him, but something cracks in my mind. It feels like there are jumper cables in my brain. My back arches, body stiffens.

  Kate screams, “Lynette!”

  Someone holds my head.

  I hear Lynette’s voice through the electricity in my head. “She’s seizing. We have to get her help… now.”

  Car doors slam, a siren goes on, car tires spin out.

  I feel like sand falling through an hourglass timer— can’t fight the force.

  The last thing I feel is drool rolling down my cheek. Then fate clicks off my light of consciousness, rolls me in a blanket of black stars, and kicks me into a sea of nothing.

  Chapter Eleven- Prick

  I wake up lying on my stomach, face down through a hole. Soft music plays in the background. Hands massage my back. The bed is heated, the oil, jasmine. I allow myself a moment’s indulgence.

  “Finally, you relax,” a woman’s voice says. She sounds familiar, but I can’t place her.

  “Um hum.” I have a man’s voice.

  “Okay, you turn now.” She lifts my sheet and blanket.

  The room is dark. I keep my eyes closed. Her hands move over my chest and down my stomach.

  “Uh… maybe, just stay up here.” I gesture to my shoulders. My voice sounds familiar too, but deeper than I am used to.

  “You are so uptight. Give into my hands.” She moves down my body to my abdomen, thighs, and back up to my groin.

  I feel something move. Oh my God! “You can stop.”

  I’m getting an erection.

  “I’m just getting to the good stuff.” She massages between my legs, edges her way up to my testicles.

  “Uh, I really don’t think this is a good…”

  She strokes my penis.

  “Ahhhhhhhh……” I jump off the table and wrap the sheet high around my body the way a woman would.

  “When will you let me love you?” A slight accent lilts her childish speech.

  “Could you just get the lights? I think we’re done here.”

  As the lights switch on, I’m momentarily blinded. Eyes adjust. My penis wilts. Pausing before I look up, I brace myself for who’s in the room. I raise my eyes from the floor and see the woman across the massage table from me.

  It’s Kim.

  She’s naked.

  Cringing, I look away. There’s a mirror mounted to the sidewall. Reluctantly, I lean sideways into it. Seeing my reflection, I’m revolted.

  I’m Mike Dupree.

  “Shit!” I look up toward heaven. “Are you frickin’ kidding me here?”

  “Why won’t you ever let me pleasure you?” She runs her tongue along her upper lip, bites her lower one. “I am very talented.”

  The words, “won’t” and “ever” bounce around in my mind. “We’ve never had sex?”

  She walks toward me, runs her hand over my shaft. “Today could be a first.” She squeezes my penis.

  I pull away. The sensation of her hand lingers on me longer than I’d like. I can see why men always think about sex. There’s no lag time for arousal. One touch and my blood flow changes course, begins to engorge my manhood. For a nanosecond I consider having sex with her. I want to know what men feel.

  My thoughts startle me. “You should put your clothes on.”

  She turns around and leans over the table to reach for a robe. The most primal part of Mike’s testosterone laden brain urges me to mount her. She glances back at me, catches me staring. “See anything you like?”

  Oddly, yes.

  I remember myself. “I’m… not into girls.”

  “I knew it!” She covers herself with the robe. “All this time I thought you were gay.”

  No, Mike is definitely not gay. I shift focus. “Where are we?”

  “At the beach house, Silly.” She puts her hand on my forehead like she’s checking for a fever. “You should feel special. My sister doesn’t usually trust people enough to invite them here. The Chief must have put in a good word for you.”

  A puzzle piece snaps into place. “Your sister’s Vanessa?”

  “Now you are just playing with me.” She puts her hair up in a bun.

  “I’m definitely not playing with you.” In either sense of the word, although I have to keep telling myself that.

  “You must be dizzy. I’ll get you water.” She slides into
slippers and starts to walk out of the room.

  “Vanessa is your sister, right?” I look around for my clothes. Mike’s uniform is folded neatly on a bureau.

  “What’s with you today? You know she’s my sister.”

  As she closes the door, I wipe off excess oil. Mike has a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. One stands out: a heart with “Mom” on his shoulder. The other images seem to chronicle a tortured life, but I don’t have the time or inclination to analyze the message. I scramble to put on my clothes.

  Looking up, I fume at Mother: “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t even remotely funny. Me as Mike?” I pull a wife beater over my head, and button an official navy shirt over it. “Did Kim really have to be naked?” I step into his pants, latch his belt. “And what in the hell is this twist with Kim and Vanessa?” Pointing hairy toes into socks, I continue my rant. “Now we aren’t lovers.” I lace on perfectly shined shoes and realize how tightly Mike’s brain is wired.

  Kim returns. “Were you talking to yourself?” She hands me a bottle of Perrier.

  I remember my Jersey accent. “I was, uh… hummin’.” I slide the tie around my neck, but have no idea how to knot it; Cal didn’t wear them.

  She looks at me sideways. “You… humming?” She giggles and helps me with my tie.

  “I wanna get out of here, see what’s goin’ on with the kids.” I feel my crew cut. Rough stubble. Kim slides the knot of my tie up my neck. It’s suffocating.

  “The guys are still looking for Joe and the girl.” She takes her own bottle of mineral water out of her robe pocket and hands it to me to open.

  I sit on the edge of the massage table and try to be nonchalant. “So Joe took her?” I want to be sure that Paul’s not in any trouble.

  “You must be coming down with something.” She touches my hand. “Who else could it be? Probably wants her all to himself.” She takes a sip of Perrier, sets it down, and moves to the head of the massage table. She starts to strip the sheets.

  I help her with the bottom half of the table. “Is the party still on?”

  She places the sheets in a cotton laundry bin and furrows her brow. “For now, but Vanessa is worried that Joe will do something stupid. We may not be able to take the risk.”