by Rob Horner
Staring out the small window set above the kitchen sink, seeing the bright August sunlight illuminate the trees in the backyard, it seemed impossible to be contemplating such things. Mind-control. Brainwashing. Whatever happened hadn’t stuck, and impossible or not, she had to be thankful for the reprieve.
And she needed to take advantage of it.
Sherry had several other scattered memories, small snatches of picture or sound, that had no connection to any events she remembered. They must have come from within that black-out period. She didn’t know what any of it meant, but maybe she and Travis could figure them out.
“It was so awful, Sherry,” Victoria said. “You were so badly disfigured, unrecognizable. I wasn’t even able to say good-bye.” Her hands squeezed Sherry’s tightly, almost to the point of pain. There could never be any forgiveness for the people who hurt her mother like this.
“When did it happen?” Sherry asked.
“About a week before you were supposed to graduate. I was sitting in the living room, watching a special on CNN about Iraq and Afghanistan. The men on the show were talking about how things were changing since Osama bin Laden was killed, but we still needed to keep a military presence in the region. I remember worrying that you might end up going over there on one of those big boats—"
“Carriers,” Sherry said, stifling a laugh.
“Yeah, those aircraft carriers that are always spending so much time over there. Anyway, I got this phone call, and it was odd, because the person on the other end wouldn’t tell me anything at first, other than he was from the Department of the Navy. I had to confirm your full name and birth date and the date you left for Boot Camp before he would tell me why he was calling.”
“Well,” her mother continued, “once he finally seemed satisfied that I was who I said I was—despite the fact that he’d called me, you know—he told me…he told me—” She took a deep breath. “He told me it was a freak accident during a recruit exercise, something about you marching in formation. You were at the back of the line because of your height, and there was a car coming. They said you slipped, or tripped, or something, falling backward into the street, right in front of the car, and it ran…it ran over—” She devolved into a quiet weeping.
Sherry was at a loss for words, easily able to imagine how such a thing could happen. The story was plausible and sprinkled with enough truth to make it believable.
“Didn’t you have to identify my body?” Sherry asked.
Victoria nodded. “They flew it back here. I got another call when it arrived. The face was torn and unrecognizable. They said it was because the front tire of the car rolled over the back of your head, grinding your face into the asphalt. I…there were no distinguishing marks; you never had beauty spots and—thank God—no tattoos. They had a signed identification report, eyewitness accounts, and dental records. They even showed them to me, but I couldn’t make any sense of them, you know?”
“She—” Victoria added, more softly now, “she looked so much like you in every other way. She was the same height, the same build. She had the same hair color, though I know that doesn’t mean much. Even her fingers looked right. I wonder who she was, whose daughter she was… Still, I should have known. I should have—”
“What?” Sherry interrupted. “It’s not your fault they lied to you.” She leaned over to hug her mother.
“I just can’t believe you’re back. I can’t wait to tell Rebecca. She’ll drop everything and rush over here, I just know it!”
“Let’s wait on that a bit,” Sherry said. “I’m back, and I intend to stay that way, but the fewer people we bring into this the better, at least at first.”
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want your sister to know? What did they do to you?”
“I—” Now it was Sherry’s turn to hesitate. How much could she tell her mother?
Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She could be placing her mother in danger simply by showing up.
“Tell me please. Give me another reason to hate them. Once I know everything, we can get a lawyer. Hell, we can get an army of lawyers, and we can sue the shit out of these people, whoever they are!”
Sherry looked up, shocked, as her mother uttered the curse word. Mom never cusses. It emphasized that her mother needed to know the truth, even if that truth bothered her more. Taking a deep breath, Sherry began to explain what she thought had happened.
2
Five minutes.
That’s how long it took for Lieutenant Barnes to appreciate the level of professionalism with which Agent Travers approached his job. Five minutes, and he was suddenly sure he’d done the right thing to keep Travis free for a while longer.
There were two other men in the vehicle, Agents Black and Kirkson, filling up the back. Though built to seat three, no third person could be comfortable squeezed in with them. As it was, their massive shoulders almost met in the middle. They sure wanted them big in the intelligence services.
In that same five minutes, as the powerful car moved through Virginia Beach, Barnes called Lisa, giving her the vehicle’s radio transponder numbers so she could route the audio from their sources. Agent Black popped open a laptop in the backseat and requested the transponder signals from the tracking devices installed in the subjects’ cars. Lisa provided those as well, and from the backseat Agent Black said, “Both vehicles are stationary at the target locations.”
“We need to take the male first,” Agent Kirkson said, holding an iPad. Though it was one of the full-sized devices, it looked as small as a normal phone in his massive paw. “Psychological profiling indicates he’s the most likely to instigate an action. Thoughtful but impulsive, it says.”
How the hell did they have psychological profiles, the lieutenant wondered. And what would he have to do to get his hands on a copy?
“There’s some serious conversation going on at both locations,” Lisa’s voice came in surround sound from every speaker in the car. “Patching the female’s feed through first.”
No one spoke as Sherry’s voice came through the speakers, clear but for a mild background crackle “—they tampered with my head, Mom. They made me believe you were dead. They gave me a husband I would never have chosen for myself—”
“You’re sure of that?” a second voice asked.
“Yes, I’m sure! Stan is exactly the kind of man I’ve never wanted.”
Agent Black brayed a neighing kind of laughter. Lieutenant Barnes almost pivoted to look at him, to give him one of those what the hell kind of asinine laugh is that looks. He stopped himself, remembering the size of the man and the size of his arms. When you’re built like a brick shithouse, you can get away with laughing however you want to.
There was a sound like Agent Kirkson either slapped his partner, or his own leg. “Knew that prick Frazier wasn’t up for this one.”
“—too self-centered, I guess. He doesn’t seem to care anything about me.”
“Lisa, was it?” Agent Travers said. The audio of Sherry’s voice faded away. “Give us the other feed so I can decide who the priority target is, please.”
Lieutenant Barnes didn’t miss the choice of words. Agent Travers was in charge of this party. He was just along for the ride.
There was a surge in the background noise level, followed be a brief snatch of an FM country radio station, as Lisa shifted the audio feed.
“Who was on the phone?”
“That’s Travis’s voice,” Lieutenant Barnes offered.
“And now…now I’m supposed to keep you here, Travis. They’re still expecting me to help them, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Ah shit,” Agent Kirkson said.
“I know,” Travers responded. “That’s where we’re going.”
“Everything we’ve done,” Travis yelled, “all of it, it was all a set-up!”
“E.T.A. fifteen minutes,” Agent Black said. “I’ll let you know if either car moves.”
3
“So,�
�� Victoria said, “you don’t know for certain what they did to you?”
Sherry shook her head, reaching for the fresh cup of coffee her mother handed her. The digital clock on the coffee pot showed nine forty-five. Almost time to call Travis.
Victoria watched as her daughter added a generous amount of milk to her coffee, never any sugar or sweetener. It was the little things which convinced her, more than the smile or her voice, that this was Sherry returned to her. For the third time in the past hour, she felt the familiar heat which said tears were on their way. Well, let them fall; these were tears of joy. No matter what kind of trouble Sherry was in, they could figure it out together. She had her daughter back.
“All I know is they tampered with my head, Mom. They made me believe you were dead. They gave me a husband I would never have chosen for myself—”
“You’re sure of that?”
It took less than a second for Sherry to answer. “Yes, I’m sure! Stan is exactly the kind of man I’ve never wanted. He’s too…self-centered, I guess. He doesn’t seem to care anything about me.”
“And you’re sure he’s in on it?”
“What other answer is there? As soon as I started figuring things out, he disappeared.”
“What if he’s like you? What if his memories were tampered with, and he’s had no more choice in the matter than you did?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Sherry.
What if? Did that make Stan a bad person?
No, it didn’t. But it also didn’t excuse the way he acted towards her. If he’d been forced to be her husband, why hadn’t he acted like it? Why were her only memories of their courtship so fuzzy and easily dismissed? Couldn’t the proverbial they have programmed him better?
Besides, everything about how he approached their life together seemed…staged. Seeing it through the prism of knowing it was a false union made those little details so much clearer.
“Maybe he didn’t want it, like it was an assignment, or something,” Sherry said at last. “That doesn’t necessarily make him bad, or make him a part of it, whatever it is, but it still doesn’t excuse letting me think and act like—” Sherry hid her face in her coffee cup.
Victoria reached over and placed a hand on Sherry’s arm. “You’re probably right,” she conceded. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of glad I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
“Yeah, me too,” Sherry replied.
They looked at each other for a moment, a silent moment, then they laughed.
Sherry realized she was close to tears yet again—would she ever stop crying? —and it was because she’d missed so much time with her mother, so many things, and all because someone stole her life.
They would pay for that, she vowed to herself.
Looking back at the clock, Sherry noted the time.
“Excuse me for a minute, Mom,” she said, “but I’ve got to make a call.”
“Who? Oh…that other fellow.”
“Yes, Travis.”
“You sure do have them lined up, don’t you, girlie!”
“Mom!” Sherry exclaimed as she moved towards the front of the house.
Victoria Galer knew her daughter very well, despite the five years since they’d last seen each other. Growing as close as they had after her husband’s death, she probably knew Sherry better than most mothers these days. She’d caught the slightly wistful tone in which Sherry answered her question and she knew, in the way that mothers have always known, that Sherry’s feelings for this man went far beyond what their circumstances dictated.
Victoria hoped Sherry wouldn’t be disappointed.
4
Sherry’s phone conversation with Travis lasted only two minutes, during which she affirmed she’d found her mother—almost bursting into tears again! —and gave Travis her address and directions to reach her from Witchduck Road. Travis assured her he knew the area and would be there within ten minutes.
Sherry sensed an undercurrent to Travis’s voice. There was real pain and anger in it, as if his best friend had betrayed him, though he was trying to mask it.
Perhaps that was part of their connection, or maybe just good old-fashioned women’s intuition, but she didn’t ask. There would be time enough to discuss it later, if it needed to be discussed.
She wanted to say something comforting, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she closed the conversation by simply promising to be waiting for him.
Turning from the phone, Sherry knew the hardest part of the reunion was upon them. She needed to leave again, and she had no idea how long she’d be gone. Sherry didn’t know what Travis was planning—if he’d had time to plan anything—but she knew they wouldn’t be able to stay anywhere they might be easily located.
Her mother had been through so much already; the shocking news that her daughter had died was just the beginning. When Sherry asked about the change in phone numbers, Victoria revealed that shortly after Sherry’s death she’d started receiving obscene phone calls.
The reason was obvious now, though at the time it seemed like random cruelty. The military wanted her to change her phone number, thus eliminating one possible means of communication should her daughter regain her memory. They obviously hadn’t counted on the possibility that she’d be stationed so close to her home.
And Sherry was going to leave her alone again.
As she walked back into the house, back into the kitchen, she rushed to hug her mother.
“You’ve got to go again, right?”
“I…yeah, Mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“There’s nothing else we can do right now.”
“You can’t stay here?” Victoria asked.
“If they find us, Mom, they’ll—”
“Shhh, I know. Forget I asked.”
“I…I don’t want to leave you again, Mom,” Sherry said, this time letting the tears fall freely.
“I know. But just look at what you’ve done today.” Victoria placed a hand under her daughter’s chin, lifting the smaller face. “You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in a very long time. You came back to me, and I know you won’t stay away again.”
“I won’t, Mom. I promise.”
“And you’ve got yourself a man who sounds really nice—” Victoria couldn’t resist throwing in that last bit, digging for just a little more information.
Sherry saw the statement for what it was and chuckled softly. “You’ll get to meet him, Mom. In just a few minutes.”
“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”
“You? Look at me, Mom! My eyes are puffy, my nose is red—”
“But you’re young and beautiful. Every guy falls for the maiden in distress. Me? I’m just an old crone. If anything, seeing me will scare him away from you. Because you know you’re going to grow up to look just like me.”
Normally, whenever they had this conversation, Sherry would protest this last statement and the joke would be complete. This time, Sherry surprised her mother with her response. “Oh God, I hope so.”
Victoria found she couldn’t reply; her throat was too choked with tears.
Don’t you bastards dare hurt my baby. I’ll kill every one of you if you do!
Chapter 12
Travis
1
To Travis’s surprise, nothing he told Angela seemed to bother her. She took it all in with an astonishing equanimity. She really was amazing! If it had been him listening to this story…
Beginning with the mysterious three words written in the logbook and ending with his dream of the night before, Travis told Angela everything. He included some details of the strange bond he felt with Sherry and, though her eyes narrowed as he talked, he didn’t backtrack or try to minimize it. He wanted to be as honest as possible.
“And that’s it?” Angela asked, moving to refill her coffee cup.
“Yeah. Pretty weird, right?”
“I don’t know what to say, Travis. Really I don’t.”
“Do you believe me?”
Angela hurried back to the table, leaving her cup on the counter. Kneeling beside Travis, she took his hands in her own. “Of course, I do, Travis. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well, I know it sounds crazy, and I’m the one it’s happening to.”
“Actually, it makes more sense than anything I’ve heard in a long time,” she said softly.
Travis caught the strange tone of her voice. “What do you mean?”
Angela hesitated, rising from her knees and returning to the counter. With her back to him she said, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, Travis. It’s always been there, kind of standing between us, like a wall.”
Travis had no idea what Angela was talking about, except that her words were a strange echo of his thoughts as he drove to her house just a short while before.
“This is hard for me, Travis. Before last night, I didn’t think I’d ever be telling you any of this; I didn’t think there’d be a reason to. But there is a reason.” She turned away from the counter, meeting his eyes, holding them with her own. “I want you to know, Travis, before I say anything else, that I—”
The strident ringing of her smartphone interrupted her.
Travis appeared ready to ignore the phone. “You what?”
Angela couldn’t find the words again. She still ached to say them, but not with the phone ringing. Silently, she shook her head.
Travis waited through the second ring, and when Angela still hadn’t responded, he snatched up the phone, sliding his finger to accept the call. “Hello?”
It was a man, asking for Angela.
Travis handed the phone to the blond, then sat quietly. He couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but he heard her responses. It sounded like she was planning to meet a representative of one of the utility companies. Yet the expression on her face told him more than words. She looked afraid.
