Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  Not sure what to say, she kept it simple. "Yes Jon."

  "It's good to see you behaving yourself properly again, but I am sure you agree you still need to be punished. You are grounded to the house until your trip with Kevin. You won't be needing another phone, and don't bother trying to get online. Until I know you will do as you are told, I shut down our internet service."

  Well crap. Plan B and Plan C flushed in the same breath. Her plastic smile turned brittle. "Yes, Jon."

  "Excellent. Mildred, make dinner. Sam, start dusting, and after dinner you can clean the house until bedtime."

  "Yes Jon." Shifting Star would someday take great joy in ruining everything he loved.

  Mildred wandered into the kitchen, humming happily to herself, and Jon flopped into his recliner to watch television.

  Samantha nonchalantly turned to the garage. The powerful Villain would be ready when the time came. Not an escape, but a tactical retreat. At least that will sound better in my memoirs. Maybe advancing in a new direction?

  For a while after she had moved in with the foster monsters, Jon had used camping as a treat for the family, if all the chores were done to his specifications. He hadn't even mentioned camping the last few months, ever since they met Dr. Darkle.

  No need to offer treats when everyone is just a minion, eh, Jon?

  The boxes of camping supplies from last year were tucked away in the back corner of the two-car garage.

  Let’s see, I need a first aid kit, magnesium fire starter, lighter fluid, water filter and canteen, a couple of packets of dry food, and a box of waterproof matches. The tent is a bit large, but the smaller sleeping bag will fit in my backpack. That shouldn't raise suspicions on the bus. I think there's spare batteries in the kitchen for the flashlight, too.

  "What exactly are you doing?"

  His voice froze her in place, heart triple thumping.

  She opened her mouth, but her throat locked up and she couldn't make her lungs work.

  "I said, what are you doing?" Jon's voice, sharp with suspicion, was so close it startled a breath out of her.

  "Um, Dr. Darkle told me that fresh air and hiking would be good for me before I leave with him. I thought the best thing would be to check our camping equipment, so I asked Mildred about it on the way over. She said it was fine, unless you decided otherwise." She didn't dare turn around; afraid he'd read her guilt from her face.

  Mildred's dulcet voice chimed in. "It's true Jon. She asked, and I said it was okay. I was going to tell you, but you wanted me to cook first. I decided to wait until you wanted me to talk."

  Samantha finally dared to look back.

  Dark thunderclouds brewed between Jon's eyes. He slapped away Mildred's hand when she reached for his shoulder. "Sam, no one is going camping. Leaving the city is a waste of time, and I only took you on those trips because you whined until I couldn't stand it anymore."

  He waited, as if expecting her to say something, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Just like before, if I speak, I lose. It's just that now I understand why.

  "I called Kevin for an update, but it went to voicemail. I expect he's involved in some new secret project, but he should get back to me tomorrow. Put all this stuff away so I can donate it to charity tomorrow."

  She started repacking, but he put a heavy hand on her shoulder and pulled her around to face him.

  "I am going to ask him what he actually said. Kevin suggested camping might upset the delicate balance we have been working to achieve, so you must have misunderstood." He paused. "I had better not find out you lied to me. Kevin's Rules, tell me the truth."

  "I—" She struggled to keep a grin off her face. The mention of Kevin's Rules barely affected her.

  He shook her. "I still think Kevin should see you every night this week. It's the only way to make sure you behave yourself and live up to our Heroic ideal. Right Sam?" His breath was warm on her face as he smiled with all of his teeth.

  "Yes Jon. I will do whatever you tell me to do." Like rubbing poison oak on your toilet paper. I definitely heard you tell me to do that.

  Mildred went inside to finish cooking while Jon watched Samantha put everything away. She carefully replaced the things on her list last so they would be on top, feeling his glare like a physical thing the whole time.

  "May I get started on the cleaning now, Jon?" She was careful to kept her eyes on the floor.

  "Yes, and hurry. You get to eat when you are done with the dusting."

  "Yes, Sir." Prick. She sighed. The Villain contemplated her next step, the most dangerous so far.

  In the hall, she put her hand on Jon's elbow. "Would you like me to clean your room as well?"

  He turned and pushed her back against the wall with one hand as she tried to pass him. He stared her down with half lidded eyes. "I suppose there's nothing you can get into in there. Hurry with the cleaning, or you won't eat dinner at all."

  He unlocked the door for her and left.

  Jackpot.

  She hummed a mindless tune while dusting, both to keep up appearances and to and cover any noises she might make.

  A single tear slid down her cheek when she found the remains of her beautiful phone, her freedom, sitting in a small blue bucket next to Jon's dresser. You will be avenged.

  With a quick peek at the doorway, safely empty of spies, she popped the back off and yanked the memory card free.

  Dinner was cold by the time she was allowed to eat. It tasted like victory.

  Chapter 20

  Monday May 24th, 2010

  The morning passed quickly. After taking her pills, she slipped her entire two-month supply into her knapsack, then filled the rest of her time with cleaning and avoiding Jon until he left for work. Unfortunately, he didn't leave at his usual time.

  Dressed in his blue uniform and security badge, Jon was still on his phone at the kitchen table. He was already twenty minutes late.

  She hesitated in the doorway. He is going to be pissed when he realizes what time it is, but he is also going to be pissed if he catches me not cleaning. Ugh, at least he seems to be accepting the dumb, 'yes, Jon' bit.

  Jon obliviously munched on his food while yelling into his phone. "That's a huge security detail—you sure you need one that big? I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you are asking for a team over twice the size of our regular offering. That much security is going to cost. A lot."

  Wincing at every screech of his fork against the plate, Samantha's sharpened hearing still caught both sides of the conversation.

  A deep voice rumbled in response. "—the boss is a real important guy, and security matters a lot to him. How 'bout we meet up for lunch and have the big wig lawyers do the official stuff?"

  Skepticism flitted across Jon's face. "Lawyers, huh? All right Mr. Red. I will take a risk here and meet with you, but if the lawyers aren't there when I arrive, I am going directly back to the office to salvage what’s left of my day. Is that clear?"

  "Plenty clear man," the voice chuckled. "See you at eleven."

  The line went dead, and Jon noticed Samantha was motionless at the sink.

  "Sam, don't just stand there like a bird brain, get your chores done. I swear Kevin needs to figure out a way to keep you and Mildred biddable, but not as stupid."

  Ears popping as she pushed them back to normal, she attacked the last skillet vigorously. "Yes, Jon."

  "Whatever." He raised his voice, "Mildred, get your lanky ass down here."

  Less than thirty seconds later she scuttled into the kitchen, wearing a frilly pink apron and a black nighty. She was still carrying a house plant and a watering can. "Yes Jon?"

  "Damn it, next time I say immediately, safely put down anything you are carrying before you come running, okay?"

  She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. I will do it right next time."

  The Hero sat arrogantly on his throne, convinced everyone was beneath him. Someday, Shifting Star would show him the truth of his kingdom,
and the power of her revenge. Samantha smiled brightly to match Mildred's grin and nodded her head the same way.

  "Stop nodding your heads, it's distracting and annoying."

  She kept at it a little longer than strictly necessary, listening to his teeth grind. I don't know how I can get Mildred out of this. She'll fight me if I try to take her with me, but Kevin is going to jail. Maybe I can come back later to get her out of here, when the programming is weaker.

  "I have a meeting with a customer at Central Island, some rich guy who's new to the area is sending his butler to work out a security contract. I should be finished early today, unless there's a problem." He turned to Mildred. "You are going to have dinner ready at 6pm instead of 8pm. Do you understand?"

  "Yes Jon. I will have dinner ready at 6pm today." She wavered. "I'm not sure why I'm dressed like this, I'd like to go change."

  "Whatever, just make something you know I like for dinner." He sighed, tapping his foot. "You can go back to whatever you were doing."

  She left without a word, her face shifting through contradictory expressions.

  Yes! Maybe she can throw off his touch since it's only been a few sessions. Please be okay, Mildred. I promise I will come back for you.

  Jon considered Samantha who was still scrubbing the dishes.

  "Sam, Kevin hasn't called me back—but it's Kevin's Rules; you are not allowed to go near the camping equipment. You are to stay in the house cleaning, without interacting with anyone besides Mildred, until I come home from work. If you run out of things to do, then clean everything again. Am I clear?"

  "Yes Jon." She smiled, her fingertips tingling from the urge to tear his grinning face off.

  ****

  Samantha spent the day sneaking her stolen supplies out of the garage one-by-one. The sleeping bag went last, bulky enough she'd despaired of getting it out unseen until a phone call distracted the Foster Monster enough for one last trip.

  The important items like the lighter fluid, matches, and her pills, went into her hiking knapsack, along with the big flashlight. Her clothes filled the duffel bag from the orphanage, along with the first aid kit, and some canned food. The thin sleeping bag fit perfectly in her backpack with room enough for the canteen and water filtration kit. Hopefully I won't have to last past my birthday, but I think I'll be okay if it takes a little longer for Susan's mom let me stay there.

  The stairs creaked and Samantha exploded into motion, shoving the last of her supplies into their respective bags. Please don't be Jon home early.

  The knapsack slid under the bed, kicked out of sight, while her duffel bag and backpack nestled among her pillow collection. Everything blended in with the pillows with the comforter pulled over them.

  The door opened.

  "We need to talk." The concern on Mildred's face was clear, partly because of how it contrasted with the vacant look she'd had all day.

  Heart trying to pound its way out of her chest, Samantha missed the first few words. She hasn't been concerned about anything since Dr. Darkle sunk his hooks in. If it's wearing off so quickly, maybe I can save her after all.

  "Yes Mildred, what would you like to talk about?"

  "It's Jon. I just got a call that he had an accident. His truck is ruined, and he is at a private clinic on a client's estate. He needs me to come see him."

  Samantha bit back a snort of laughter. I hope he broke something fatal. "Oh, that is terrible. What should we do?"

  Mildred slumped on the edge of the bed, alarmingly close to the rigid backpack. "They wouldn't say how bad it is, but it sounds serious. I need to see him immediately." Her voice wavered with that last part, as if she were slightly confused.

  Samantha wrapped her arms around her foster mom. I'm sorry I can't save you. I can't save anyone, maybe not even myself.

  "I hate to leave you alone, but I need to go, and they said it would be best if I didn't bring you," Mildred said.

  Why would Jon bother to mention me? Whatever, this is absolutely perfect. Free reign of the house and enough time to get everything out before the cops call. Couldn't have planned it better myself. "Everything will be fine until you get home."

  "Thank you honey. I won't have time to make dinner like Jon told me to, so I left $30 on the counter for pizza. Please order his favorite and keep it warm in the oven until we get home."

  "I'll keep cleaning while I wait." Trying hard, and failing to hold back a tear, Samantha buried her face in Mildred's hair for another limp hug. Goodbye, Mildred. I hope Darkle gets locked up and this wears off. You deserve to be free too.

  "Don't clean anymore, just take a nap until the pizza gets here. Don't talk to the delivery person more than you have to, or it will make Jon angry. Please be good."

  Samantha's sharpened hearing picked up every thunderous step and creak of the floor as her foster mom left. Sneaking to the stairs, she followed the sound with her ears as it traveled to front of the house.

  The instant the front door shut, she raced up the stairs to the master bedroom, pausing to swing through the kitchen and snatch the cash off the table.

  The door to the master bedroom was half open and unguarded.

  Is it truly theft for a Villain to steal from a Hero? Why yes, it is.

  She went directly across the hardwood floor to Jon's dresser and popped open the sock drawer. Everyone keeps cash in the sock drawer, right?

  A small leather wallet in the back held another $20 in ones and fives, along with some quarters and dimes. Jackpot. The cash fit nicely next to the pizza money in her belt pouch.

  Rooting around inside the other drawers, she uncovered a carved wooden box, but no more money. The box was about the right size and shape to hold pencils for school, but this was heavy. Something rattled inside.

  Samantha dropped to her knees and pushed her gnarled claws out of her fingertips until she could fit one between the simple metal hasp and the wood. The metal broke free.

  The box was filled with envelopes. Letters addressed to Samantha Gray, in care of the Arbor City State Orphanage, from Edward Gray.

  Her stomach did a back flip and dropped like a lead weight. She held her breath, worried the precious letters would disappear if she moved or looked away.

  After a moment, she opened the lid completely.

  Each neatly folded letter had been placed back inside the opened envelopes. They packed the box to the brim, and a couple of small objects rattled inside when she tilted it.

  The floor crackled and popped beneath her claws, a soothing sensation to feel the hardwood give way to her feelings. He didn't forget me at all. Jon's been keeping him from finding me.

  The front door slammed open.

  No, no, no, I need more time.

  Quickly closing the box and clutching it tightly to her chest, she shoved the drawer shut and dodged around the bed into the hallway.

  Mildred's hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.

  Samantha raced down the stairs to her room and shut the door as quickly as she dared.

  The footsteps finished their trip through the house and stopped above the stairs, hurried, anxious.

  Shit shit shit. She threw the box under the bed and yanked back the comforter to jump in... only to land between her filled and lumpy bags. Bags that would be immediately obvious if Mildred leaned on them to give her another hug. I'm the worst conspirator ever.

  "Samantha, honey, are you still downstairs?" Mildred's singsong voice vibrated through the walls and ceiling.

  The comforter covered everything when pulled up to her chin, so she put on her best 'just woke up' face and waited. Still tingling with power, she pushed her hearing back to normal and yelled. "I'm here, what's up?"

  "Just checking. I'm leaving to get Jon now. Be good."

  The master bedroom door clicked shut, its lock thudded into place, and the footsteps rushed back outside, slamming the front door along the way. This time the car started up and left.

  Time to cut my losses and get out before I and lose my
best chance at escape. Leaping free, she grabbed both heavy bags and rushed out the back door.

  ****

  The scent of damp earth and growing things filled the air. The sky had changed from blue and slightly cloudy to black thunderclouds in the time it took to get from Jon's house to The Pit.

  Samantha circled the block, despite her hurry, to search for the road Lucky had used before. It wouldn't do to get caught in the storm runoff using the path Samantha had climbed last time. Coming from the outside, the other end of the road was largely hidden by an overgrown willow tree, enough that she wouldn't have found it if she hadn't known it was there. It is like a ready-made secret entrance to my secret base. The weed-filled dirt and gravel path offered an easy walk down to the area behind Lucky's firing range.

  More of the largest building had collapsed in on itself sometime after her last visit. The basement floor was now covered with sharply splintered wood and rusty nails, making the whole foundation too dangerous to use as a hiding place.

  So much for a sneaky underground lair. Can Metamorphs get tetanus? Probably best not to find out the hard way. No matter, Shifting Star would find a more suitable hideout elsewhere.

  The next closest building, about thirty feet away, was actually two small buildings linked together. The paint on both had long since worn away and rust had taken the hinges of its heavily weathered front door.

  Samantha eyed the dark hole that remained, digging through her bag for the flashlight. Sometimes, one very much walks into Mordor.

  The walls were covered in a lewd rainbow of graffiti and smelled faintly of rot. The dirty floor creaked alarmingly in some places and a few boards were missing.

  At first, the door into the next building stopped her. The knob refused to turn, but a closer look revealed the whole thing was rusted solidly in place. Despite that, the door seemed loose. A light kick pushed it fully open, leaving the lock, knob, and the semi-circular section of the door, in place.

  The dark inner room contained only a half-hanging door leading to a kind of enclosed bonus room with a large window. Wind whistled through the narrow gaps in the floorboards, and faint sunlight filtered through the walls. The dry floor creaked and groaned with every other step, but lacked the holes and missing boards of the other building.