THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA

by William Melden

  “Cassandra!” Dayle’s voice snapped out. “What do you think you’re doing? Put that down!”

  Turning, she lunged halfway across the room, exhaled with a loud grunt, and sent the tabletop spinning into the giant television screen, losing her balance in the process. She fell to her knees and bent over, covering the back of her head with her hands. Dayle’s image was shattered in a hail of buzzes and sparks, as the tabletop and TV screen showered the white carpet, and Cassie, in broken glass.

  The room was silent, except for a few pops and hisses from the exposed wiring of the ruined screen. Cassie slowly stood, tossing back her hair, and shook herself free of the bits of broken glass, like Daisy would shake off drops of water. She turned and walked back to the bedroom, not caring if she stepped on any glass. “Enough of this crap,” she muttered. “I’m done.”

  * * * * *

  She stood under the shower, her hands against the walls of the stall, letting the water wash the broken glass from her hair and off her body. A cloud of steam enveloped her. The small slivers of glass swirled down the drain easily, along with the water, now tinted pink by the blood from her feet. Thoughts and emotions whirled through her mind like leaves in an autumn wind.

  I’m not gonna cry any more, she told herself. It doesn’t help. I know what Dad was gonna say, anyway. He was gonna say they loved me and were praying for me. I wish I’d heard him, but just seeing him and Mom was so good . . . at least they know I’m alive. That tabletop really did its job. . . . Boy, I’ll bet that guy’s mad. He’ll probably send Skip in here to beat me up. Why didn’t I let Royal teach me some sparring? Never mind. I won’t just stand there and take a beating. I’ll pretend she’s a heavy bag. She’s built like one, anyway. . . . And if they want to kill me, well, they’ll kill me, that’s all. What did Esther say in the Bible? Oh yeah. “If I perish, I perish.” That makes sense. She shut her eyes tight as the water rinsed away the last of the shampoo.

  In spite of the circumstances, she laughed. What’s going on here, girl? You’ve always been scared of your own shadow. Wouldn’t even learn to water ski. Wouldn’t let Celeste take you anywhere on her bike. And now you’re ready to throw down with that horrible Goth woman? Chad would say you’re crazy. . . . But when did Chad ever understand anything?

  She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, then lifted her feet and examined the soles. Just a few little cuts . . . they’ll stop bleeding when I lie down and put my feet up. She dried off and put on the sweatpants and tank top she now used for pajamas. Moments later, she was in bed, her mind and body exhausted. Moments after that, she was in a deep sleep. Then she dreamed.

  * * * * *

  She wandered through the parking lot of the West York Athletic Park, wincing as the gravel dug into the soles of her feet. “Why do my feet hurt?” she wondered. “Somebody needs to give me a ride. I really need to get home.” Looking around, she saw Madison’s sporty new Honda. Parked nearby was Chad’s Mustang, its roof lowered. “Looks like everybody’s here,” she murmured. There was Celeste’s bike, right next to the battered Toyota that Lydia drove. “Lydia’s so nice. I bet she’d give me a ride.” She moved past the other vehicles, onto the walkway leading up the hill to the Pavilion. The sun seemed so bright. . . . Why was she dressed this way? She looked down at the t-shirt and gym shorts. Tiny bits of broken glass sparkled in the sun, clinging to her clothes. She was barefoot. “No wonder my feet hurt! I need to get home and get dressed! I don’t want everybody to see me looking this way!”

  She reached the edge of the Pavilion. There they were, the usual crowd, standing around or sitting at the tables. She walked in, embarrassed by her scruffy appearance, but determined to find help. “There’s Chad. Great.” He was leaning on the counter of the snack wagon, working his way through an order of French fries. Emily Harper and Jessica Knowles stood with him, chattering away, obviously vying for his attention.

  Cassie glanced around as she approached him. Nobody was looking at her. She’d expected everyone to stare at her in this condition, but they all ignored her. She came up behind Chad and reached out, tugging at the arm of his t-shirt. “Chad! Let’s get out of here. Will you take me home?”

  He laughed at something Emily had said. “That’s so lame,” he replied. He took a sip of his Coke. Jessica punched Emily’s arm, giggling.

  “He doesn’t even notice me,” she thought, tugging harder at his sleeve. “It’s like I’m not even here.” He dipped a French fry in ketchup and held it out to Jessica, who took a bite.

  Cassie turned away from him, bewildered. “I’ve got to get home. I feel like I’m naked!” Her eyes scanned the crowd. Olivia Mendel sat at a nearby table with her boyfriend, Ethan Wren. They were looking at something on his laptop, Ethan pointing things out on the screen. Cassie approached them. “Um, hi Livvie, hi Ethan. Sorry to interrupt. . . . could you guys give me a ride home?” Olivia tapped the screen with a fingertip and brought up another site. They continued talking, seemingly unaware of her presence.

  As the hot tears began to dribble down her cheeks, Cassie turned away from the couple and saw Celeste approaching, smiling. “Thank God!” She ran to her friend and threw her arms around her. Celeste kept walking, not seeing her, and joined Olivia and Ethan. “You two look like you’re deep in thought.” They looked up and grinned. “Have a seat, Celeste. Look at this dumb vid we found.”

  “Nobody sees me! Who’s gonna take me home?” Cassie turned in circles, confused and helpless, scanning the faces. Then she heard a voice. “Cassandra. Don’t be afraid.”

  She turned and saw a stranger, sitting alone at an isolated table, away from the others. He was smiling, but his features were serious. His black hair and beard, about three days’ worth of stubble, offset his slightly olive complexion. His nose was a bit prominent, and his deep brown eyes gave him the look of a man who’d seen everything there was to see in this world. He sat with his back to the table. Blue chambray work shirt, white Levis, and plain white sneakers. He could have been in his late twenties or early thirties. Who was he? What was he doing here?

  Cassie pointed to herself. “Are you talking to me?” she mouthed, but no words came out. He nodded, and she walked over to him. Suddenly, she felt that she and the stranger were all alone in the Pavilion. She stood before him, looking in his eyes, hands clasped in front of her, like a little girl in the principal’s office.

  “Cassandra,” he said with quiet authority, “Don’t be afraid. I am Gabriel Terrena.”

  “Do . . . do I know you?” she stammered. “Are you here to take me home?”

  “You don’t know me, but you are known,” he replied. “It is not my place to take you anywhere, but the Comforter will guide you, if you remember His words. You have known his words from childhood.”

  Cassie felt a thrill of apprehension. Was it possible? “Um. . . . Are you . . . Jes —”

  Gabriel Terrena cut her off. “Don’t even think that! I am only a messenger. Cassandra, I say it again: remember his words. We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.” He smiled again, and nodded. He was finished.

  * * * * *

  She sat upright, fists clutching the mattress, her body soaked in sweat. She looked around, blinking. I’m still here. It was a dream. She remembered what had happened in the white room. Why haven’t they come yet? I expected Skip to be pounding me into the floor by now. She rubbed her face vigorously with the palms of her hands. The Pavilion . . . Gabriel Terrena . . . remember! For the first time since she was abducted, she felt a sense of peace. There was no fear, no dread, just calm, and a confidence she didn’t quite understand. Wait a minute . . . what was that verse? “The peace that passeth all understanding?” Well, this must be it. . . .

  The speaker crackled
to life in the ceiling above her. Eldon Dayle’s voice was almost a hiss. “You’ve made a bad mistake, Cassandra. You’ve angered me. Don’t bother to answer, because I can’t hear you. But you’ll regret that temper tantrum.”

  The door from the white room burst open, and Skip charged through, snarling under her collar. Cassie swung her legs off the bed and sat up, her muscles tensed, but the Goth was too fast. She grabbed Cassie’s throat with one hand, as the other plunged a hypodermic needle into her bicep. Something hot and bitter spread through the arm. Skip jerked the needle out, holding on to Cassie’s throat for a few moments, and then stepped away from the bed, glaring at her victim.

  Cassie just managed to get her legs back up on the bed before the blackness came. She heard Gabriel Terrena’s voice in her mind. Remember His words. . . .

  CHAPTER EIGHT: The Making of a Kidnapper

  “How long do you want to leave the girl hanging, sir?” the Goth asked.

  Dayle pushed away from the desk and stood up. He put his hands on his hips, stretching and bending backwards a bit to work out the kinks in his spine. His eyes never left the bank of video monitors that showed the mess Cassie had made in the white room. Although not a tall man, his presence gave the Goth the impression that he towered over her.

  “It can’t be much longer,” he replied, finally looking at the woman. “I want you to unlock the manacles before the drug wears off. I don’t want her kicking or spitting at you when you release her. And she’s a strong girl. If she struggled hard enough, she might just pull those chains out of the beams they’re screwed into, behind the wall. Just leave her in a heap on the floor. She’ll have learned something, I hope.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, his legs extended, ankles crossed. “Then we can continue with her . . . rehabilitation.”

  “Yes sir,” Skip replied, standing perfectly still and erect, as usual. “Her physical strength wasn’t a surprise. We knew that she keeps herself in shape. We’re lucky the television screen was the only thing she destroyed. That tabletop could have crashed through the wall and landed in your lap.”

  “Yes, that would have complicated things, wouldn’t it? The silly child has no idea where this office is located. For all she knows, I might be in another town, not simply on the other side of the screen. The monitors would have provided some protection, but not enough. . . . We may need to see about strengthening that wall. We were in a hurry, and that heavy plasterboard was the quickest way of setting up the rooms.” His expression turned dark. “Of course, I wasn’t referring to her physical strength. I was referring to her will, her internal strength. That’s what has to be destroyed.” He thought for a moment. “No, not destroyed. That’s badly phrased. Surrendered. Her will. Her freedom. Her identity. Her stupid, insulting allegiance to . . . well, you know. Him.”

  He turned around and slumped into his desk chair, as if suddenly out of breath. Skip could see that he didn’t want to continue the conversation.

  “I understand, sir. I’ll leave you to your thoughts, and go tend to the girl. And check on how the renovations are coming along.” She zipped up the collar on the leather jacket, covering her lower face again, and started for the door.

  “One more thing,” he muttered. “The external situation. The so-called authorities. The FBI. The Yorkville police. Should we be concerned?”

  “Oh no, sir.” Her eyebrows furrowed, as if the question surprised her. “That’s the last thing you should be concerned about. The feds and the Yorkville police are stumbling all over each other. Typical inefficiency.” When he didn’t reply, the woman slipped out of the room.

  Dayle sat in silence for a few minutes. Fresh air . . . I need to stay attentive. A bit of fresh air would help. . . . He rose from his chair, walked to the office’s outside door, and stepped out onto the small landing at the top of the steel staircase that hugged the side of the building. The stars shimmered and flickered in the clear sky, but Dayle took no notice of them as his hands gripped the metal rail. The humidity of the summer night instantly began to pervade his skin. He glanced down at the empty area where he and Skip parked their cars, a single story below. They’ll never find this place, he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. No human activity within a mile . . . we chose well. Noticing that he’d begun to sweat, he took another deep breath and went back inside, returning to his desk.

  Suddenly, he was beset by a scorching headache. He cradled his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Then the voice came again. So familiar. So scornful. So silent. . . .

  “What are you doing? Have you forgotten?” Dayle moaned, shaking his head. “You must never forget what’s been done to you! Look. Look right now.”

  He eased open the main drawer of the desk and withdrew an old leather scrapbook. His fingers trembled as he turned to the pages he’d studied so many times before, full of newspaper clippings he had all but memorized. Some had yellowed with age; as the years progressed, the clippings became increasingly, heartbreakingly clear.

  * * * * *

  PRODIGY AT CAL TECH

  22 year old earns PhD in Biochem

  Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, June 15 — Eldon Floyd Dayle has been awarded his PhD degree in Biochemistry and Molecular Biophysics by the California Institute of Technology. Dayle is 22 years old.

  The son of Floyd and Margaret Dayle of Pasadena, the academic prodigy was born in Santa Monica. He attended Roosevelt Elementary School, then the rigorous Polytechnic School (“Poly Pasadena”), where he earned his high school diploma at age 16. He entered Cal Tech immediately, where he completed his undergraduate studies, receiving the B.S. degree in Engineering & Applied Science at the age of 19. Following a self-directed course of study, he was awarded the master’s degree a year later. At this year’s Commencement exercises, he was awarded the PhD in Biochemistry and Molecular Biophysics, at the age when most students are earning their bachelor’s degrees.

  “It is an honor to recognize Dr. Dayle’s extraordinary academic achievements, and to welcome him as a colleague,” said Dr. Fleming Horton, Professor of Chemical Engineering, Bioengineering and Biochemistry.

  * * *

  Dayle – Tobias Nuptials

  Pasadena News-Star, June 25 — Marcia Corbin Tobias and Eldon Floyd Dayle were married on June 24 at St. Andrew Church of Christ in Pasadena. The service was conducted by the Rev. Dr. Stuart Hymers.

  The bride is the daughter of Jonathan and Katherine Tobias of Fremont, Ohio. The groom is the son of Floyd and Margaret Dayle of Pasadena.

  Maid of Honor was Pamela Ross. Best man was Thomas Mowery.

  The bride recently received her master’s degree from the University of California at Los Angeles. The groom was recently awarded a PhD from the California Institute of Technology.

  After their honeymoon, the couple will reside in College Station, Texas, where the groom will join the faculty of Texas A&M.

  * * *

  Katherine Anne Dayle

  Pasadena News-Star, April 15 — Eldon and Marcia Dayle of College Station, Texas, are pleased to announce the arrival of their daughter, Katherine Anne. Born on April 12, at Methodist Hospital in Bryan, Texas, she weighed 7 pounds, three ounces, and was 21 inches long. The father, a native of Pasadena and a PhD from Cal Tech, joined the faculty at Texas A&M two years ago. The mother is a native of Fremont, Ohio. Dr. Dayle reports that mother and daughter are “doing splendidly.”

  * * *

  Dayle Named Full Professor

  Daily Reflector, College Station, May 15 — Dr. Eldon Dayle has been named Full Professor of Biochemistry and Molecular Microbiology at Texas A&M. Dr. Dayle has been Associate Professor of Biochemistry for ten years, and received his PhD from Cal Tech at age 22. He is married to the former Marcia Tobias, and the couple has a daughter, Annie, 8, who attends Willow Grove Elementary in College Station. Dr. Dayle, 33, now becomes one of the youngest full professors in A&M history.

  * * * * *

  He sat at the desk, tears blurring his vi
sion, face in his hands. “I don’t want to read any more,” he whispered. “It was twenty years ago . . . no, twenty-one. I don’t want to read it again. Please let me stop.”

  An even hotter pain shot through his head. “You will not stop! This is how he rewards good people. This girl, this Cassandra . . . you’re not hurting her. This is the kind of life we’re sparing her. Read!”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, choking off a sob, and resumed his reading. His heart, having been broken so many times before, was breaking again. But he had no choice. He was compelled.

  * * * * *

  LOCAL WOMAN KILLED IN FLORIDA ACCIDENT

  Daily Reflector, College Station, August 10 — Marcia Tobias Dayle, 42, of College Station, died Friday evening in a traffic collision in Orlando, Florida.

  Mrs. Dayle, wife of Dr. Eldon Dayle of Texas A&M, had been visiting Disney World with her husband and their 15 year old daughter, Katherine Anne. As they were returning to their hotel, an intoxicated motorist ran a red light and hit the family car, which was being driven by Dr. Dayle, at a speed of approximately 50 mph. Both Mrs. Dayle and the other driver, whose blood alcohol level was 0.330, were pronounced dead at the scene. Katherine Anne was rushed to Osceola Regional Medical Center in Kissimmee, where she remains in critical condition. Dr. Dayle was treated for minor injuries at the same hospital.