Every picture on the screen was of our rooms. Josie’s room was there, and even though it was mostly dark still, I could clearly see his little body sleeping on the big bed. The second picture was of our living area where the sofa was. The third looked like it was directly over our bed. And the final one was the bathroom. The bathroom where Miguel and I made love! The room where I changed and stood naked countless times! The bathroom where I’d touch myself when I missed Miguel, and wished he were there with me!
I thought I’d be sick.
Unable to move, I stared at the pictures on the screens, trying to comprehend why Osan would do this. Movement on one of the other screens caught my eye and I saw a car pulling up to the locked gate outside. Oh my god, he was back sooner than I had planned.
Mother-fucker! I needed more time! I looked toward the door, planning a quick escape back upstairs, but something on the desk made me stop before I took a step.
Josiah Sandviel
Maelianna Peters-Sandviel
“Miguel” Sandviel
Three manila folders were sitting upright on Osan’s desk, each with one of my family’s names on it. Glancing to the screens, I saw the gates slowly beginning to open, and knew I was out of time.
Hurrying to the desk, I grabbed Josie’s folder and opened it, causing numerous pictures to fall to the desk. Picking them up, I noticed they were of his surgery, of deep inside the incision where they inserted the rod and screws, and a copy of his passport. As I put them back inside the folder, I saw that there was some kind of writing on a few of the pictures.
Looking closer, it resembled chemical formulas with arrows pointing to the interior part of the incision. On the last picture I picked up, the word DETONATOR was written along the top. What the hell was this?
I looked at the screens, but couldn’t see the car anymore. Shoving the pictures back inside the folder, I quickly opened the one with my name on it, this time more carefully, and found more pictures and a thicker stack of paperwork.
Closing it, I glanced inside Miguel’s, but it was empty. I didn’t have time to figure this out here. Grabbing all three folders, I tucked them under my arm, and rushed out of the room.
I ran down the hall, around the corner, and to the stairs, just in time to grab my plate of food and hurry about ¾ of the way up before I heard the lock on the front door clicking. Coming to a stop, I turned, tucking the folders under my plate, and looked down as the chauffeur came in and set the keys on the table beside him. I took a long, calming breath and tried my best to sound normal. My chest was heaving, and my insides were a chaotic mess, but I refused to show any of that.
“Oh, hi.” I acted surprised to see him. “I made some coffee if you want some. I’m going to go check on Josiah, and see if he woke up while I was down here.”
“Thanks, Miss, coffee sounds great. I’ll be up in about two hours to help you get the boy ready to go to for our ride.”
“Great. I can’t wait to get out of here for a little while.” I was relieved that the dim light hid my anxiety, and that he couldn’t see the sweat beading on my forehead from down there. I was out of breath from running, trembling in fear, and hardly able to say anything coherently due to the endless thoughts slamming through my mind.
I turned and walked up the remaining stairs, straining to appear normal. After moving down the hall and out of sight, I hurried to our room, immediately locking the door behind me. I needed to see exactly what was in the folders.
Looking around the room, I remembered the cameras, and decided the only place of privacy was the closet. I ran to Josie’s room, thankfully finding that he was still sleeping. Walking quickly, I went to the closet, turned the light on, and shut the door behind me. Taking a seat on the floor, I placed the folders in front of me with the name labels facing upward.
I didn’t know if the chauffeur could go into Osan’s office, but I assumed he could, especially if he was left in charge of the house for the weekend. With that thought, I felt sick again. The idea of him watching me naked was too much. The only thing that kept me from becoming ill was the pile of folders in front of me, and the need to find out what was really going on.
I opened the easiest one first, Miguel’s. I thought it was empty, but there were actually two pictures inside, with a sticky note attached to each. The first was a picture of he and I when we were married in the Bahamas. I didn’t understand. The only people who had that picture were Joan and I. We never made any extra copies. On the sticky note, there was sloppy handwriting that read, Married-December 2010. The second picture was of Miguel and a blond haired woman in her early 20s. The sticky note on that one read, Amanda 2003. She was quite beautiful standing next to him in a elegant black formal gown, he in a tux. I tried to look at the background in the picture to see where it was taken, but was unable to identify anything worthwhile. I closed the folder, hoping to find the answers in the next one.
Opening my folder, I carefully set the papers on one side and pictures on the other. I flipped through the papers first, realizing they were arranged in chronological order from when I was born until now. The furthest paper in the file was a copy of my birth certificate. I looked ahead a few pages and found a copy of my parent’s obituary. A few papers in front of that was an article in the newspaper about our florist shop. The front papers were typed memos with no addressee or sender. I read the top one, trying hard to understand its meaning.
Maelianna will be traveling with Miguel and her
son, Josiah, on Monday
They will be accompanied by Dr. Majmudan
and his staff.
Expect arrival at 2100.
I was being watched by someone, but who, and furthermore, why? I didn’t want to stay in the closet too long. I knew Josie could wake up any minute, and if I was being observed on the cameras, it would look odd if I didn’t appear with him soon.
Accelerating my pace, I looked through a dozen or so pictures. There was one of Joan and I walking home after work, one of us walking to work, there was one of the front of our shop, one of Josie and I at a park near our house, a few of Miguel and I on nights that we had gone out during the past year, a few of Josie when he was born with his name tag showing in the hospital, and there was the same marriage photo that was in Miguel’s folder.
What was Osan doing with all this? I was angry, and I was scared. But when I opened the last folder, I went from confused, to sheer panic.
Everything about Josiah was in there. He had the same paperwork as I had, but when it came to the surgery, there was document upon document that listed conflicting information from what I had believed what a routine surgery.
Dr. Hasan performed implantation
Dr. Majmudan reports that the body has accepted the device without
any further complications.
Child is up and walking.
Child is released to return home and expected to leave next week.
Device is active and ready to be used on call.
What the hell were they talking about? What device? What did it mean “Active and ready to use on call?” I didn’t understand anything.
Tossing the pictures of Josiah’s birth back into the file, I looked closer at the more recent ones, specifically the ones of his surgery. They were very graphic, displaying every detail of the surgery. I could see the skin pulled back, the muscles and tissue that were held back by clamps, and the small rod that they inserted into Josie’s back.
Every picture with the rod had a description of some “device” with chemical abbreviations next to it, frustrating and scaring me even more, as I had no clue what they meant. Were these doctor’s notes? But if so, why would Osan have them?
I looked through about ten pictures, trying to figure it out, before I came to one that made me almost pass out. It was a close up picture of the rod/device. Someone had used a white marker, dividing the rod in half, and drawing an arrow that pointed to the first half with the word “Triacetone” written next to it and the second half
of the rod/device read “Triperoxide”.
I didn’t know much about chemicals, but I had taken a class or two to help with my knowledge of flower growth for work. These two chemicals were dangerous, but combined together they would make a fire, or worse, a bomb.
The final picture was the one I noticed earlier in the office. It was similar to the last one, but the only writing on this one was the word “Detonator” with an arrow pointing to the center of the rod that was implanted in my son.
This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen. I had to have my information mixed up somehow. But I had nobody to call, no access to Internet to check, and if my suspicions were correct, my son was a walking bomb.
Every part of my body began to shake. I tried to get the folders back together, but I couldn’t. The trembling in my hands only scattered them across the floor. I picked them up as quickly as possible, using the floor to hold the folders open while I scooped the items back inside. Fighting the tears and forcing air into my lungs, I finally finished collecting all the items.
Closing the folders, I left them on the closet floor, hiding them by placing one of our travel bags on top. I turned the light off and cautiously opened the door. The room was still dark, the drapes were pulled closed, but the beginning of sunrise was peaking through the curtains. Scurrying across the room, I went to Josie, just in time to see him waking up.
“Ma, Maaaa,” he said cheerfully, slowly sitting up in bed.
He was still struggling to move around, but overall he was doing great. Well, knowing he might have a live bomb inside his back put everything in another perspective.
What if he fell?
What if it leaked or went off accidentally?
What the hell was I going to do?
Giving him a quick hug and kiss, I helped him up so he could go to the bathroom. After washing our hands, and trying my best to remain in control, I heard a knock on our door. Knowing the only person it could be, I picked Josie up, carrying him to the door with me. My nerves were shattered and I needed something to distract the chauffeur from their shaking.
“Good morning Josiah, I brought you some breakfast.” The chauffeur smiled.
How convenient. Not only was he an hour earlier than he said he would be, but he knew Josie was awake. I had to wonder if he waited until he saw us enter the bathroom or if he started coming up right when I went into his bedroom.
“Thank you.” I told him politely, attempting to hide my disgust. “I’ll help him eat, then we’ll get ready and come downstairs so we can go.”
I didn’t want him up here. There was way too much going on in my head, and I had to figure out what we were going to do.
“Certainly, Miss. I’ll put his food on the table and wait downstairs.” He took the tray to the table near the sofa and sat it down. Walking back toward us, he smiled again, waving at Josie, as he started to leave.
“Wait, please.” I blurted, changing my mind and getting his attention to prevent him from leaving. “Would you mind watching him while I go clean up and change in the bathroom? I hate leaving him alone since he’s still having trouble walking sometimes.”
On second thought, it would be better for him to be here with Josie so he couldn’t watch me on the cameras.
“Oh, sure, Miss. I love playing with this little guy.” He cheerfully took Josie from me and went to the sofa with him to prepare his food.
Staring at my son, I was at a loss for words. Even silent, mental words didn’t come. I thought of his incision and all the physical therapy during recovery. I thought of the pictures of him now sitting on the floor in the closet. I thought of everything I’d done with him over the past few weeks; playing, walking, bathing, therapy. Unable to make any sense of everything, I shook my head and went to the closet to get some clothes. I didn’t want to risk him finding the folders, so I picked them up and put them inside the bag that was on top of them, zipping it closed.
I watched my hands tremble as I struggled to pull it shut, and realized we had to get out of there. This would be our only chance. The men were gone for three days and who knew what the plan was when they returned. What would happen if someone discovered that I’d been in that room or taking the folders? Miguel had said we could go home on Wednesday. We would be flying home. Were they going to use this “bomb” on the plane? Is that why Miguel looked so sad and started to cry when I asked him to leave?
Oh my god, I hadn’t considered Miguel being in on this until now. What if he knew? Was that what had changed his personality so drastically over the past few weeks? He was such a wonderful father, he would do anything for Josie. Well, that was until we came here.
Realizing I’d been in the closet too long, I threw the bag over my shoulder, taking it and the clothes to the bathroom with me. The two were already playing on the floor, oblivious to my movements. They had set up a small race track and had numerous cars lined up beside it, car noises rumbled across the room as they both ‘prepared their engines’ to start the race. Breathing a small sigh of relief, I shut the bathroom door, and changed my clothes.
More thoughts began racing through my mind. So much had happened during the past six weeks. There was too much to figure out and I had such little time. My memories were a chaotic blur. There was no order to them. They flashed in and out, slamming into the next one with such force I had to grip the sink for some type of anchor…
Osan showing up the morning after we arrived…Osan holding Josie…Osan insisting that he meet us at the hospital to oversee the surgery…Osan’s words that I was an “American whore.”
Then, like a light switch, my thoughts turned to Miguel. The way he never raised his voice to us until we were here…his demands to keep me inside the house…him leaving everyday with his brother…how he spent barely any time with Josie after his surgery…his new entertainment with women…and the way he looked shattered after he spoke to his brother the morning we had our confrontation in the kitchen. Lastly, I remembered our time in the bathroom here. His tenderness while Osan was in the other room. Not only did I wonder if Osan watched the video later, but did he give Miguel ‘permission’ to be with me while he waited? Was that his goodbye? Repulsion crawled across my skin. I wanted out now!
I started throwing things that we might need into the bag; toothbrushes, toothpaste, a small towel, a brush, then zipped it closed and stood in front of the mirror. The woman reflected back at me looked pale and scared. It was actually a compliment, considering how I felt inside. When things had happened over the past few weeks, I remembered feeling like I’d be sick. But right now, there were no words to describe how I felt. Sick didn’t even come close to it.
There was a chance that, not only could my little boy be killed, but he could be blown up. Blown up! I gripped the sink again, fighting the urge to smash the mirror in front of me.
Splashing cold water on my face, I was determined to find a way out of this. I would not let them have my baby! I would not allow them to use him for their sick games! I didn’t know how, but when we went on our ride, I was going to find somebody to help us and we were leaving. If Miguel was part of this, he could rot in hell for all I cared!
I summoned every ounce of strength and courage I had and opened the bathroom door. The two had moved across the floor and were creating a derby crash with their cars. Thank God for little miracles. I hurried into Josie’s room and grabbed two of his outfits. I put them in the bag, along with all the antibiotics and other medication he was taking. His favorite stuffed monkey was on his pillow, so I tucked that inside as well. Some of my sweats and a t-shirt were on a chair in his room, so I grabbed those and added them to our supplies. The only thing left that I needed was our passports and my credit cards. Luckily, I’d insisted on keeping those in my purse, so I’d get them on our way out.
I had no concrete plan yet, but I knew time was running out. As soon as the men found out, I’m sure the entire thing would be over. We would die if they knew. They would succeed. I would not
allow that to happen!
“Okay, I’m ready.” I plastered a fake smile on my face as I came back to the living room. “I just need to change Josiah, and we can go. I can’t wait to have some fresh air!”
The chauffeur looked up at me and smiled. He had no clue what I was doing. I had to keep it that way.
“Great, Miss. I’ll go pull the car around front and meet you down there.”
After he left the room, I checked my purse, ensuring I had everything we needed. It was all there. I made sure to grab a jacket for Josie. It was hot here during the day, but the nights were sometimes chilly. I didn’t know where we’d be in twelve hours, so I wanted to have warm clothes for him, just in case.
As I slid Josie’s pajamas off, I stared at the scar on his back. It was no longer sore or inflamed, and was healing quite nicely. I ran my finger up and down the length of it, desperately trying to understand how this could have happened.
Other than the puffy incision mark, nobody would ever know he had an operation at all. Nobody would even consider what might be on the inside. Would anyone believe me? I didn’t have time to consider that option. I’d show them the information and pray that they understood what it was. Embracing the courage I was fighting to maintain, I slid his clean shirt over his head and put his shoes on.
Should I leave a note? What if Miguel didn’t know? What would I say? “I took our son because your brother put a bomb inside him.” That sounded ridiculous. If he didn’t know, he’d think I was crazy. If he did know, it would give them the upper hand and who knows what might happen then. No, I wouldn’t leave a note. Miguel had left me alone to take care of Josie for weeks, that’s what I was going to continue to do now. If there was even a chance that he knew about this, and could murder his own son, I would not give him any more help achieving that goal.
Twisted Truths & Leveled Lies Page 22
