by Dan Alatorre
In the darkness, the five-year-old remained on the outside of the stony gray cabin, sobbing.
Chapter 29
Gagged and bound, DeShear trudged with his Bahamian Defense Force captors to the large plane. A soldier gripped each of his arms and a third walked behind them with a rifle pointed at their prisoner’s head. The group proceeded up a metal loading platform that entered the tail of a huge aircraft. Two massive propellers spun on each wing, creating a loud hum inside.
After selecting a space between the cargo crates, one of the guards pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He slipped it through a waist-level, welded steel loop that stuck out from the plane’s frame. “This way,” he shouted, barely audible over the noise of the engines. “You can stand or sit during the flight. Be sure to move around some, or you get a blood clot on such a long trip.” As he opened the steel cuff, the other guard grabbed DeShear’s arm and held it still.
“Smart man.” The soldier with the rifle poked DeShear in the ribs with the muzzle. “No sense getting dead over a plane ride.”
When the second handcuff was placed around DeShear’s other wrist, the guard stepped away, tugging on the chain. The links clinked through the steel loop until the thick steel cuff hit it, holding DeShear in place.
The guard smiled. “Happy travels, murderer.” Leaning close to DeShear, he spoke loudly. “Don’t ever come back here. Next time, I guarantee you will exit the island in a different way.”
He stepped aside as the next group of soldiers advanced. They carried Trinn, still unconscious and limp, her mouth hanging open.
DeShear grunted, pulling against his restraint.
Laying Trinn down, the guards lifted her hands over her head and handcuffed her the same way they had locked up DeShear. Her head hung on her shoulder, her feet sticking into the aisle.
“Move her legs,” the lead soldier shouted. “We don’t want anyone to trip.”
A guard grabbed Trinn’s ankles and shoved them to the side. Dozens of men with weapons marched up the loading ramp, passing DeShear and going into the compartment in the plane’s midsection.
The lead guard grabbed DeShear’s shirt collar, yanking him forward. “I heard you tried to kill this woman.” He nodded at Trinn. “So we locked her up just far enough away. You can see, but you cannot touch—and she can see you. Maybe when she wakes up, she tells a different story than you tell. Maybe she tell the truth.” He shoved DeShear into the wall, turning and walking away. “Of course, it gets very cold back here when the plane is flying.” Stopping at the compartment door, he put his hand on the knob and let the last of the hired guns pass through. “Maybe you will get lucky and die of the cold before anyone say anything.”
Chuckling, the soldier pulled the door shut.
An electric motor engaged, whining as the loading ramp raised up and shut against the hull of the plane, casting the rear section in darkness.
* * * * *
Hollings stood in the aisle, talking with Miss Franklin and Dr. Freeman.
Behind them, Keeper 27 sat upright, her eyes wide open. “They are here.”
“Aye, they are, old girl.” Hollings leaned on his cane. “DeShear, and that witch, Trinn. Loaded like crates with the rest of the gear. And believe me, if she wasn’t being sold to Armen Twa for a pretty penny, she’d never see the end of this flight. Toss her out over the Pacific, I would, after what she done to me.”
“But . . .” Keeper 27 looked around. “We’ve landed. Aren’t we getting off the plane?”
Hollings smiled. “Dear girl, you’re losing your faculties. We’ve only had one leg of our flight. We’re gearing up for the second leg of the journey right now. You’ve not slept through it—yet.” He called out over his shoulder. “Dr. Freeman, have you got your little black bag handy?”
Keeper 27 gripped the armrests. “What—what are you doing?”
“Well, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other,” Hollings said, “I thought I’d give you a proper farewell.”
Dr. Freeman pulled a syringe from his medical case. Keeper 27 recoiled.
“Aye, that’s it.” Hollings chuckled. “I did so enjoy seeing you kicking and crying the last time, old girl.”
“No!” Keeper 27 leaned away from the doctor. “There’s no need! No!”
“Give her a right good dose, mate.” Hollings opened the door to his private berth. “I don’t want her waking up in the middle of the flight asking for a glass of water.”
As Hollings disappeared, Dr. Freeman stepped toward Keeper 27, holding the needle high.
Shrieking, the old woman kicked and thrust backwards into her seat.
The engines revved, jolting the passengers as the aircraft lurched into motion.
Freeman came closer.
“No! No!” Keeper 27 screamed. “Please, no!”
As the needle pierced her arm, Keeper 27 howled, arching upwards in her seat. Her wrists strained against the handcuffs. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her tongue stuck out. She convulsed wildly, banging her legs into the seat in front of her.
Miss Franklin grabbed the old woman’s arms, holding them down and looking at Freeman. “What’s happening?”
The doctor swallowed hard, his jaw hanging open. “She—she’s having a reaction.”
Keeper 27 flailed in her seat.
“No kidding.” Franklin frowned. “What did you give her?”
“A—a sedative.” He took a step backwards. “It . . . it was the same thing as last time, I think.”
“You think? Would you mind checking, doctor?”
Freeman shrugged. “I mean, it is the same thing . . . but this one came from a Bahamian pharmacy. It might contain other stabilizers.”
Franklin struggled to hold the old woman down. “Come on! Do something!”
“I . . .” He glanced at a nearby soldier. “Get some blankets.” He opened his bag and dug through the contents. “I’ve got a . . .”
Keeper 27 slammed back and forth, groaning and gagging. Pressing her shoulder into the old woman’s midsection, Franklin looked at the doctor. “A what?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m not a trauma physician! Levetiracetam is usually administered to alleviate a seizure, but . . . but she’s reacting to the sedative I just gave her!” He put his hands on his head. “I don’t have anything for that!”
“Do something!”
The plane tilted as it ascended, its engines roaring. Keeper 27 turned pale. Foam gathered at the corners of her mouth.
“Hurry!” Franklin shouted. “We’re going to lose her!”
The doctor dug in his bag. The old woman jolted upright against Franklin, groaning, then slammed upwards again. She gagged, her hands banging against the steel handcuffs.
The soldier returned, handing Freeman two folded blankets.
“Get—get her out of there.” Freeman placed the blanket on the floor. “Undo the restraints. Put her on the floor.”
Franklin opened her shirt pocket and yanked out the handcuff key, undoing Keeper 27’s restraints. As she put the key back in her shirt, Keeper 27 lurched forward.
“Easy. I’ve got you.” Franklin eased Keeper 27 to the floor, putting her head on the pillow.
Breathing hard, Keeper 27 stared at the ceiling, her hands and legs twitching. Franklin knelt over her, wiping the spit from the old woman’s mouth. “Hang on. We have something for you.” She glared at Freeman. “Don’t we?”
He stared at Keeper 27, his eyes wide, backing away. “I . . . I have nothing. My bag’s been looted. There’s nothing . . .”
Keeper 27 screamed and lurched upwards, arching her back and kicking her legs.
“You’re a doctor!” Franklin shouted. “Do something. She’s going into another seizure!”
Freeman shook his head, backing away.
Franklin put her hands on the old woman’s shoulders. “I’m not going to let you die. We’re just going to ride it out. If you can hear me, I’m . . . I’m going to try to h
elp you.”
Keeper 27 grabbed Franklin’s shirt, pulling her down into her chest. The old woman moaned, shaking, veins throbbing on her forehead. She gagged again and again, her mouth hanging wide open.
Franklin yelled at the doctor. “We’re going to lose her! Do something!”
Arching her back again, Keeper 27 let out a long moan, then collapsed.
The wrinkled fingers slipped from Franklin’s shirt and fell onto the old woman’s waist, then slowly slid to the floor.
Keeper 27’s head sagged to the side. Her breath passed over her lips in a low, faint hiss, and she didn’t take another.
Franklin sighed, staring at the old woman.
Creeping forward, Dr. Freeman knelt down and placed his fingers to Keeper 27’s throat. Lowering his hand, he shook his head. “She’s gone.”
Franklin sat down in the aisle, closing her eyes and putting her hand to her forehead.
Taking his stethoscope from the bag, Freeman placed the tips in his ears and held the bell to Keeper 27’s chest. After a moment, he took the stethoscope away and put it back in the bag, his head hanging.
Looking at her crew, Franklin got to her feet. “If I . . . could get a few volunteers to take her body to the back, please.”
Several soldiers stood up.
“Lay her in the cargo bay,” Franklin said. “It’s cool in there. That will be best for now.”
A soldier nodded. “We have a rescue stretcher in the rear of the midsection, ma’am.”
“Yes, that . . . would be nice.” She faced Freeman. “Thank you, Doctor. I won’t be needing your services back here any longer. If you’d report to Mr. Hollings and tell him what has happened, I’d be obliged.”
“Hollings?” The doctor’s eye went wide. “But he’ll—he’ll . . .”
“Shoot you? That’s probably true.” She turned to one of her crew. “Please escort the doctor to the front cabin.”
“With pleasure.” The soldier stood up, grabbing Freeman and hauling him to the front of the plane.
The other soldier returned, carrying an aluminum-frame stretcher. It was a sturdy, basket-shaped device, made of a series of thick rods and overlaid with a canvas lining. He placed it alongside Keeper 27, then Franklin and several others lifted the old woman into it. Franklin picked up the blanket from the floor and covered Keeper 27’s entire body with it. The blanket draped over her shoes, to the end of the metal piping, almost twelve inches longer than it needed to be to cover her frail old corpse.
A muffled gunshot came from the front of the compartment.
Franklin shook her head. “Sounds like we’ll need another stretcher.”
The private cabin door flew open and Hollings raced out, limping with his cane as he rushed toward Keeper 27. He stopped, his jaw hanging open. Inching forward, he pulled back the big blanket and gazed on Keeper 27’s face. “Aye, what a mess we’re in now.” He covered the old woman back up and peered at Franklin. “Put her in the back, and say nothing to anyone.” He looked over the crew. “That goes for you lot as well. Not a word of this to anyone until after we’ve concluded the transaction.”
“What about Freeman?” Miss Franklin asked.
“Seems the doctor has met with a bit of an accident in my cabin.” Hollings rubbed his chin. “It’s probably best if he didn’t continue along with us. Send a few of your people ‘round. We’ll dump Dr. Freeman’s useless carcass into the ocean.”
* * * * *
The lights flickered on in the cargo bay of the plane. DeShear got to his feet as the midsection door opened. Two soldiers carried a stretcher with a blanket over it—covering what appeared to be a body.
DeShear shook his head.
It’s starting already.
Wherever Dr. Hauser and his people go, death follows.
The soldiers set the stretcher down across the aisle from him, between two crates. Two other soldiers entered the compartment, dragging a dead man in a white lab coat. They went to the rear of the plane, engaging the overhead motor of the loading platform.
Cold air rushed in as the gate lowered.
Stepping onto the platform, they grabbed the dead man by his hands and feet, swinging him back and forth between them. On the third swing, they let go, sending his limp, lifeless body into the pale blue sky.
DeShear looked away.
The soldiers raised the loading platform until it shut again, then walked back to the middle section.
“Savages!” DeShear cursed as the door shut behind them. Lowering himself back to the floor, he stared at the blanket covering the other corpse. “Why did they toss one body and not the other?”
“Thankfully, they did not.” Keeper 27 pulled down the blanket.
“Helena!” DeShear glanced around, lowering his voice. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
“A bit of deception, I’m afraid, sir. I shall tell you all about it.” She smiled, holding up the handcuff key she swiped from Miss Franklin’s shirt pocket. “But first, do you know how to use one of these?”
Chapter 30
The morning sun found Constantine still outside the cabin, curled up on her side, asleep.
She lifted her head, blinking. The ever-present wind blew her hair into her eyes. Jutting out over the crystalline blue waves, the edge of the cliff was as daunting as it had been the night before when it almost took her life.
I must be more careful.
Constantine sat up. “In fact,” she said to herself, “I’ve been behaving like a proper child. My Keeper would say, ‘Young lady, this is not how I raised you.’ She’d expect me to rise to the challenge.”
She got to her feet staring at the edge of the cliff.
“We must make a plan, mustn’t we, Keeper 27?”
Mimicking Helena, Constantine answered herself. “Yes, dear. Very good.”
I must have a way to get down that path without being noticed.
They leave me alone a fair bit. Perhaps after breakfast they’ll go—and I can sneak away.
A jolt went through her.
You’re being quite silly in your thinking. Who’s to say they don’t take you to some ghastly surgical center straight away this morning?
She crept toward the edge of the cliff as the big, blue waves crashed below. The little path wasn’t visible yet. The dark gray stone, with all its gullies and ruts, hid it well—and the others never ventured close enough to the edge to see it.
Good. No one will know where I’ve gone.
She glanced at the main house. There hadn’t been engine noise or any slamming of doors to indicate Valentin or the others were around.
Well, then. I suppose there’s no time like the present.
She marched east along the cliff, toward the crack in the rock.
Gazing into the gray gap, she put her hands on her hips. The surface was shiny, as if it hadn’t been there very long—but “very long” could be ten years or a hundred on a geological scale.
She balanced on one foot, easing her red sneaker down to the shiny gray gravel. The rocks shifted under her shoe, but didn’t collapse or fall away.
And we’ve begun.
Turning sideways Constantine squeezed into the gap. It was tight for three or four steps, but the gap widened as she went lower, until it opened onto the cliff face and the morning sun. There, it was like a ten-foot-wide cave, high enough for an adult to walk around on or for a child to hide in.
To her right, the little shelf-path disappeared around the corner. Ten inches wide, maybe more, that stuck out from the sheer face of the high cliff.
Constantine squinted in the bright light. The waves were louder here, where the sounds carried straight up the stone surface. She ran her tiny fingers over the gray rock. It was rough to the touch, and wet. Cool, like the stone cabin had been, but not cold.
Putting her rear to the stone cliff wall, she stepped sideways along the path. It seemed much higher now. Far below, a wave crashed onto the rocks. It exploded with a boom, sending white foam in
all directions.
Constantine gasped, pressing herself backwards.
The next wave crested and smashed into the rocks. Another boom and another spray.
“The rocks below are like cheese shredder,” Cleo had said. “And the currents are big-strong. Push you back over the rocks again and again, until your skin is scrape off and your arms and legs get slice cut away.”
Panting, she clung to the rock wall, slowly turning around so she wouldn’t see the bottom of the cliff. Her cheek to the stone, she stretched her hands out wide, inching along the narrow path.
Go slow. There’s no hurry. You must keep your balance.
The waves crashed below.
Keep moving. Steady as she goes.
The rock path shined with wetness, maybe from the sea spray or a light rain.
She stretched her foot out to the path, easing her weight onto it.
The little red sneaker slipped to the edge. Constantine’s stomach lurched as the rock wall moved away from her face. She gasped, throwing her hands out, clawing at the stone as she went backwards.
A hand clasped onto her shoulder, jerking her back onto the ledge.
The surgeon from the cabin glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “Step with me! Now!” He pulled her toward him. “This way. Slowly.”
Trembling, Constantine obeyed the doctor’s commands. Sea spray surged upwards with every wave, coating her in a fine mist as the churning water far below grew in its intensity.
“Come!” He shouted, pulling her. “Keep coming!” His grip stretched her t-shirt as she inched along the ledge. “Yes. Good. That’s it!”
At the opening, he stood to the side of the crack. Wet with sweat, he held her as she squeezed sideways into the gap and climbed back up to the top.
He followed, reaching up when he was halfway through, and hauling himself over like he was climbing out of a swimming pool.
The doctor rolled over onto his back, his thin chest rising and falling with each hard breath. “The wind.” He gasped, pointing toward the water. “The sea changes constantly. And that affects the waves.” Propping himself up on one shoulder, he peered at Constantine. “Which affects the rock, yes? Understand?”
