The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: Seeking Others

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Finally, the person in front of them finished and they moved up. The loud yakking stopped. Within five minutes Aimee was done and heading for the parking lot. Much to her surprise, leaning against her car, his arms crossed, people-watching from behind his sunglasses, was Dylan.

  “There you are,” he said before he raced to Aimee and took her bag.

  Aimee was more than happy to see him. She was about to drop the bag. “My hero!” she exclaimed. “So, how did you get out of practice?”

  “Finished until six. I tried calling you, but you didn't answer your phone.”

  “Sorry, it's charging at home,” replied Aimee. She set her backpack on the car and started looking through it for her keys. Sitting at the bottom, under all the other junk, and crumpled, was the envelope Dr. Payne handed her at the airport. Aimee had intentionally forgotten it. She figured whatever was in the envelope wasn't good. After the plane lifted off the runway in London, Aimee did her best to forget Joseph Smith. But suddenly seeing the unopened envelope brought him reeling back into her life. Her hand hit the keys and she quickly pulled them out. “Found them!” Aimee said while she speedily zipped the pack and tapped the unlock button. Dylan stuck the bag in the back, and then jumped into the passenger seat.

  “I have a couple hours and I'm hungry. Wanna get a bite?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Aimee replied. “Where to?”

  He smiled. “How about take out and your apartment?”

  “Okay.”

  “You think James and Sacha are home?” he quizzed.

  “Nope. Both should be at work until at least six.”

  “Awesome,” he replied with a grin.

  “Awesome? What, James and Sacha getting on your nerves, too, with all their hovering?”

  He chuckled. “No, but I kinda wanted the place to ourselves.” He looked over at Aimee and jiggled his eyebrows. She laughed.

  “Ah-ha,” Aimee said. “I think you're hungry for more than food, aren't you?”

  Dylan’s lips pulled up at the corners. “You're all I've had on my mind today. Thinking about you and your sexy bod got me through every brutal drill.”

  She giggled. “Glad to assist with your training.”

  Later that evening after Dylan left to head back to evening drills, and James and Sacha had arrived home and then left again to get something to eat, Aimee decided to spend the evening unpacking the few remaining boxes in her room. Dylan had helped tape the boxes. He must have used a whole roll on each box because there was no way Aimee could get in them using her fingernail. She had a nail file in her backpack so she grabbed the pack off the bed and searched in it. She spotted the envelope on the bottom. This time she couldn't ignore it. Cautiously, as if it had a bomb in it, Aimee pulled the envelope out of the pack. She set it on the bed and looked at it for at least five minutes. Her stomach flipped. She didn't know what was in it, but Dr. Payne had warned her to not share it with Dylan. Aimee's assumption was whatever was in there would make Dylan crazy jealous. She grabbed the lighter by the bedside candle, the mysterious envelope in the other hand, and tore into the bathroom. Aimee was going to get rid of the evidence. With the envelope over the sink, she flicked on the lighter and held the flame at the corner of the envelope. In seconds the edge turned black and smoked. But the lighter's flame suddenly burned Aimee's thumb. She screamed and dropped the envelope into the wet sink. With a slight hiss, the edge quit smoking. She pulled it out, laid it on the counter, turned on the cold water and held her burned thumb under the running stream. Aimee looked at the envelope. Nothing was written on the outside, but she could see the outline of a letter inside it. Aimee turned off the water, dried her hands on the towel, dropped the toilet lid and sat down. She sighed. Fate? she thought. Her better sense told her to pick up the lighter and finish it off, but something kept Aimee from following her better sense. Her heart fluttered. Her hands sweated. She took a long breath, stuck one finger under the edge, and eased it across. Aimee took another deep breath and pulled out the letter. It was neatly folded. With closed eyes, Aimee opened it, then slowly opened her eyes. The first line read, My Dearest Aimee...the last line read, ...until I see you again. All my love, Joseph. Every sentence in between verified why she should have burned it, unread. Aimee had to get rid of it. This time she lit the letter and let it burn in the sink. A few seconds later the smoke alarm in the hall popped on. Aimee turned on the faucet and drowned the fire, took the towel, opened the door and fanned the alarm until it stopped, then cleaned up the evidence. Aimee felt dirty, like she had cheated on Dylan. She stripped and jumped into the shower to try to wash away Joseph. There was no way she would let him into her life. “No way! Nothing in the letter will every come true!” she cried out loud. “NO WAY!”

  Suddenly there was a knock on the bathroom door. Aimee screamed.

  “Aimee! Are you okay?” James yelled through the door.

  She turned off the water and yelled back, “Fine. I'm fine.”

  After she dried off and slid on her robe, Aimee exited to find Sacha sitting on the couch, and James leaning against the counter in the kitchen, as if he was waiting for her.

  James queried, “So, what was all the yelling about in the shower?” Sacha picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Aimee felt both of them scrutinizing her.

  “Thanks a bunch,” she started, “so you think my singing sounds like yelling?”

  James threw a bewildered look at Sacha, then commented, “Singing? It sounded more like screeching.”

  “Well, James, not everyone can have such a musical voice as you.”

  Aimee winked at James, then scooted by him and grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. James didn't move, except for his eyes as he watched her.

  “Good night,” she said. “I'm heading to bed early. Had a long day.”

  Aimee felt the two watching her backside until she disappeared into her room. Her cell phone was buzzing. Aimee grabbed it from the bedside table and noticed BFF on the screen. She answered on the third ring.

  “OMG! It's about time you checked in,” greeted Aimee.

  Chelsea squealed, “Hey, girlfriend, how's it goin’?!”

  “It's okay. Busy. Trying to get settled in. How's it goin’ with you?”

  Chelsea paused briefly, then replied, “Well, how much time do you have to talk?”

  An hour later, Aimee had heard about every man Chelsea had dated since moving to New York, and how one had already proposed to her, and how she had already been promoted at the modeling agency where she worked. She was starting classes right after Labor Day, but she hadn't bought any of her books yet. Matter-of-fact, things were going so well and so fast at work, she was beginning to think she might lay out her first semester and see how things went with her job. She had a gut feeling she would make it to the runway before the summer collection came out. Aimee had no doubt she could do whatever she set her mind to, but she thought Chels would be making a big mistake putting college on hold. So Aimee told her. Chelsea didn't agree, but that didn't make any difference. She always did it Chelsea's way, no regard to any advice Aimee offered.

  “Chelsea, I've known you since we were almost four. I believe no matter what you do, you'll be successful.”

  “Really? That's how you really feel?”

  “Yep.”

  “Thank you, Aimee,” Chelsea replied, then added, “I sooo miss you.”

  “Miss you, too.”

  “Still coming in December?”

  Aimee hesitated for a few seconds knowing she didn't have the money to go, but unable to let her down. “Sure thing,” Aimee answered.

  Chels squealed again, “Freakin' awesome! I can't wait.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Aimee replied, trying to sound excited. “Chels, I gotta go. I'm really tired, and I need to hit the pavement tomorrow and find a job.”

  “Okay. Talk to you in a few.”

  “In a few.” Aimee ended the call and reconnected the phone to the charger. She crawled under the c
omforter and looked at the picture of her dad and mom, the one she hid a few months ago because of the guy in the background who suddenly showed up in the picture. Or perhaps, he was always there and she finally noticed him because of his likeness to Joseph Smith. Aimee shook her head. You're not coming between me and Dylan! No way. Not tomorrow. Not ever! Never! She put the picture back on the side table, grabbed the picture of her and Dylan, and stared at it for a very long time. Finally, Aimee flipped the light off, turned over, and held the picture until she fell asleep.

  Chapter 4 MIA

  James answered his cell phone. It was 8:20 pm.

  “James?” Dylan started the conversation.

  “Dylan, hey man, what's up?”

  “You at the apartment?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Dylan asked, “Is Aimee there?”

  “Here?” James answered, his voice rising slightly. “No, I thought she was with you. Her car's here.”

  Dylan suddenly started to feel uneasy. “Well, I haven't seen her since after lunch. We went to get something to eat, then I dropped her at the apartment. I've been trying to call her the past twenty minutes, but it just rolls to voice mail.”

  James tried to keep calm. “I'll check her room and see if I can tell if she went running. She started training this week for her marathon so she'll be running longer than usual.”

  “Thanks, man,” Dylan replied. “Call me back if you can tell she's out running, or if she comes home. I'm gonna drive around and see if I can find her.”

  “Sure, dude. I'll go check.” James put his phone down on the table and headed for Aimee's room. His stomach suddenly had a rock sitting in the middle of it. But before he got too worried unnecessarily, he wanted to see if he could tell where she was, and if her running shoes were missing, it was a good chance he was right. She was training. Only Aimee didn't know Eugene well enough yet to be out pounding the pavement too far away from the apartment by herself.

  Sacha came out of the bathroom, a towel on her head. “What's wrong? Why are you in Aimee's room?”

  James was down on his hands and kneels peering under Aimee's bed. Without glancing up, he answered, “Seems Aimee is MIA. I'm checking to see if her running shoes are also gone. I'm hoping she's out running.”

  “Omigosh, James, did you check her closet yet?”

  “Nope. Usual place for her to leave the shoes is under the bed.”

  Sacha flew to the closet and flipped on the light. Shoes lie all over the closet floor, but her running shoes were nowhere to be found. “Did you call Dylan?” she asked. The concern was obvious in her voice.

  “He called me a few minutes ago. He said he dropped her here this afternoon and hasn't seen or heard from her since...”

  Sacha had her phone to her ear and Aimee's number ringing before James could finish his sentence.

  “...and she's not answering her phone. Calls are rolling to voice mail.” James looked up finally and noticed Sacha on her phone.

  “Yep, it's rolling to voice mail,” she confirmed. “What should we do?”

  “Don't know. Dylan said he was gonna drive around looking for her. Maybe I should go, too, but one of us needs to stay back in case she comes in.”

  “You go, James. I'll call you the second she walks through the door.”

  James took a deep breath, rubbed his fingers over his hair and uttered, “I'm gonna let her have it when I find her!”

  Sacha replied, “Don't, James. I know it is a pain trying to keep watch over her, but we promised your dad. She needs us to help her.”

  James looked at Sacha for a second. He said, “You're a good woman to put up with this. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Now go find her,” ordered Sacha.

  James wasn't gone two minutes and his phone rang again. It was Dylan. “Any luck?” he anxiously inquired.

  “Nope, but her running shoes are gone so I'm hoping she's just out on a very long run. I'm out looking for her, too. She's been doing a loop around campus, but I don't know the rest of her route.”

  Dylan sighed into the receiver, then said angrily, “Damn, why didn't I ask her about her route?”

  “Man, don't beat yourself up. I'm sure she's fine. Sacha is at home waiting for her to show up.”

  “James...” Dylan began.

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm up on 5 heading almost to campus. I'm gonna cruise around it again.” After a few seconds of silence he finally asked, “How long do we give her?”

  “Before we call the cops?”

  “Yeah. I've almost dialed 911 a dozen times in the last ten minutes.”

  “Give it another thirty minutes. If she still hasn't made it home, or one of us doesn't find her, then you call them and head over to the apartment.”

  “Call me, man, with good news,” Dylan directed. “I'm going friggin' crazy.”

  “Don't worry, Dylan. She'll show up, and she'll be okay.”

  “She better be okay.”

  James put his phone into the console and drove towards the mall, just in case she had gone over there with a new friend or on the bus. He was a mile from the mall when his phone rang. He had the phone to his ear in a split second.

  “She's home!” Sacha reported.

  **********

  Aimee stretched out her legs and kicked into a quick walk out of the apartment complex. She planned on only going about five or six miles this evening. She was about twenty minutes into her workout when she suddenly got that feeling, the one she almost always got before getting sucked into the tunnel. In less than a second, her head felt like someone hit her with an axe. Whack! And she was gone.

  The black tunnel was the worse it had ever been. Maybe it was because Aimee hadn't fully mended from the last mission, or perhaps it was because time chips away the memory of horrendous experiences, and it had been almost two months since her last mission, but whatever the reason, she just wanted to die. She couldn't wait to get out. Let the damn thing squeeze the life out of me, Aimee prayed, and make it fast! But no one ever heard her prayers, and if they did, they ignored Aimee's requests. She was trapped. Yet, a second later the searing, white light burned through, breaking the miserable icy tentacles that imprisoned her.

  Thud! She hit the ground face first into cold muck. Her brain was fuzzy from the impact, but nothing else felt wrong. She lifted her face out of the gunk, and pushed up onto her hands and knees. The muck blinded her. She tried to wipe it out of her eyes, not an easy task since her entire front side, including hands, was covered in the nasty stuff. Aimee whipped her t-shirt off, then used the cleaner side to wipe her face. Afterwards she slid it back on. She discovered she had landed in a row of very wet dirt, in between rows of green plants about a foot tall on both sides of her. A cool spray of water rained from the sky, but not a cloud could be seen. Aimee sat up and glanced around. A giant irrigation sprinkler shot water over the area, and it looked like it was creeping her direction. After gathering herself up, she stood shivering in the cold shower letting it wash off the mud. She couldn't see anything but miles and miles of rows of green plants. Way off in the distance, she spotted a building. It was the most promising thing out in the middle of nowhere, so she started walking down the row towards what Aimee hoped would be where she needed to go. Her ankle was tight so she moved slowly. The sun was high so she couldn't tell if she was going north, south, east or west, but way off in the distance were mountains, and to the right was a rather large rock structure that looked like a giant mesa. It was breathtaking. Only Aimee couldn't stop and enjoy the view. She didn't know where she was, but Aimee knew she had to figure out quickly why she was here.

  After about fifteen minutes the building got closer. Aimee noticed a truck approaching way down what she assumed was a road. Dirt sprayed out from behind it as it sped towards the building. Aimee ducked down. She figured if she could see them, they could spot her. A minute later the truck stopped at the building. A man got out of the driver's side. He leaned over the bed of the truck
like he was searching for something. Pretty soon another man got out of the truck from the passenger side. Then a young woman appeared. The second man held onto the young woman's arm. A blindfold covered her eyes. He was pulling the woman towards the building. The driver grabbed some rope from the back, then he walked over to the building and pulled open the large, metal door. The woman fell down. The second man yelled at the woman to get up. It looked like a red rag or bandana bound her hands behind her back. Obscenities filled the air and carried Aimee's way. She was close enough, and they were loud enough, for her to hear every word.

  He ordered, “Get your ass up, you fuckin' bitch.”

  The young woman stayed on the ground crying.

  The other man holding the door laughed, then said, “Hey, JC, get her up, dude. I don't wanna fuck her if she's covered in dirt.”

  Her escort grabbed her arm roughly. She yelled. He yanked her up. She cried out, “Please, please, oh God, please don't hurt me!”

  The man disappeared into the building pulling the girl with him, and the driver closed the large door. Aimee jumped up. She knew she didn't have much time. She had to hustle. The ankle was wrapped. Tight or not, she didn't have a choice. She needed to sprint as fast as possible to make it up to the building before anyone came out.

  Aimee made it to the truck within a minute. Commotion filtered out of the building. Muffled screaming. Begging. More screaming. Cursing. Wild laughter. You gotta do something now! she thought. She looked inside the bed. An assortment of things - a lantern, a sledge hammer, a bag of lime, and a couple shovels - rested on top of a plastic tarp. Aimee's heart raced, and not from the full throttle run, but because she was positive she knew what was going to happen to that girl. And if she wasted any more time, she would be too late to stop it.

  Aimee peeked into the cab. “Bingo,” she whispered. The idiots left the key in the ignition and a handgun on the seat. Obviously they weren't expecting anyone else way out in the middle of nowhere.

  Her pulse kicked up. She knew what they were doing to the woman. But Aimee was going to put an end to it. She opened the driver's door and crawled into the cab. Her hands shook like leaves in the wind. Quit shaking, she growled under her breath. She picked up the gun and checked it over. Aimee had only used a 410 when she went bird hunting once with her father and James, but a handgun couldn't be too different. You load. You aim. You shoot. Simple. Except the gun had to have bullets. She yanked out the clip. “Yes!” she muttered. She put the clip back in the gun, then racked the slide, and laid it next to her leg. She didn't have a plan, but whatever she did, she was no match for two crazed men by herself. The gun would give her the advantage. Aimee just prayed this was the only gun they had. She fastened the seat belt. Psalm 23 rolled off her lips, followed by fast crossing. In the next second, she cranked the engine and immediately stomped the accelerator all the way to the floorboard. The truck blasted off like a rocket escaping the gravity holding it to the earth. It plowed through the metal door into the center of the building, then abruptly halted when the truck crashed into a stack of hay bales. The engine kept running. About fifty feet away, the driver was on top of the female. His pants were pulled down and wrapped around his boots. The other man watched, his pants also dropped to his feet and his genitals hanging out for the world to see. The element of surprise gave Aimee time to jump out of the truck and get to its end. The man mounted on the woman couldn't get up fast enough, and his partner in crime fell down trying to run towards the truck while pulling up his pants. He got up as quickly as possible, and at the same time reached around to his backside. Only what he was reaching for wasn't there because he had forgotten the gun in the truck. Aimee held it up and aimed it at him. He stopped ten yards from the truck. His buddy, right behind him, stopped, too.