“Oh, sorry,” mumbled Madelin as she rose to her feet. They ached with the strain, but she forced them onward, down the city street. The ragged woman stared after her, muttering a string of curses. Then, she began pacing the sidewalk, skipping over the lines and cracks.
Madelin shook the cloud of fogginess from her eyes. It was still dark, but lamps lit the street periodically. She fought off a morning yawn while gazing at her surroundings.
There has to be something I know, something that stands out, she thought.
Lights and advertisements were everywhere. Passing strangers gave her odd stares, but she took no notice. Her eyes were drawn to the buildings around her, each one competing with the next in an attempt to reach the heavens. The area was unfamiliar, like the music-loving groups she saw the night before. Seeing nothing of interest, she continued past the store fronts and stepped onto a busy street corner. A few yards away stood a Coney vendor catering to a line of customers.
* * * * *
Chapter 4: Phantom Friends
Wednesday, June 21st
A day I will never forget. The first day of the rest of my life.
~Excerpt from the Journal of Madelin Boatweit~
While watching the morning traffic in front of her, buildings became distorted with static before returning to normal. Madelin questioned her own sight, but as the sensations continued, she noticed a connected sequence. With each instance, life became a television show with bad reception.
Out of nowhere Madelin heard her name, or number by which she was more often referred to, echo through the static. “Please be on the lookout for Patient 914. Patient 914 has been convicted of crimes against the PUS, ‘Parliamentary Utopia of States’.”
The words defined themselves unbidden as the automated alert ran through her mind. Everyone around her hesitated a second, simultaneously listening to the DME Announcement, ‘Digital Mind Enhancement’. The nearby Coney vendor faltered while handing a customer his change, and even the traffic lights skipped a second before flashing green. Her head throbbed with the pulsing electronic waves. The flow synchronized itself with the blood seeping through her veins. Each rhythmic thump was in line with her heartbeat and sent droplets of red blood out onto her hands.
A small stream trickled through her fingers and onto the dark pavement below. Subtle pinpricks of pain broke through her consciousness. She lifted her shredded hands, hardly aware of the blood congealing around them. Looking closer, Madelin watched as the static altered her surroundings, but not her. Through splayed fingers, she watched the brief interference of the announcement warp the world. Someone was standing in front of her.
The dark legged jeans of the slender man she knew became visible, but disappeared at the end of each static occurrence. Through the distortions, Madelin heard a voice again, but not clearly. “Please be on the lookout for Patient 914. Patient 914 has been convicted of crimes against the PUS,” repeated the announcement. She tried to focus, ignoring the reality of the street around her and pushing aside the robotic voice inside her head. Her friend had found her, but why were there two conflicting voices? As though attempting to gain better cell phone reception, she wandered around the street and sidewalk, eyes closed, and tried to focus on the man’s urgent voice.
He called her name, the real name she heard the attendants at the facility use. “Madelin…”Beyond that, his words faded into the message. She missed him, even knowing so little about him. He was her link to a past she knew nothing about. Thinking back, she succeeded in finding only darkness, an absence of life and memories. Her life had been stolen. She was an empty shell.
Just then, hands clenched around her waist and arms. She fought through the layered realities, wishing to call out, to wail under the forces descending on her. A scream rose in her throat. Her trachea felt as though it would burst under the pressure.
“We’ve got her,” muttered a man from behind her head. The announcements stopped and her friend’s distorted words became clear too late.
“MADELIN, RUN, NOW!”
With her arms clasped tightly to her sides, an agent lifted her from the ground and removed any chance at escape. The door to her cell clanged shut in her mind, and she stared through the bars at her brief stint of freedom, now out of reach. The scream died in her throat as a sharp blow to her head engulfed the mental prison in momentary flames. Then, as quickly as it began, her senses faded to nothing.
A short time later, Madelin awoke and opened her sea-green eyes. Pain pierced through her skull. The limited light that filtered in was unbearable. She shut her eyes to find relief, but instead discovered a pounding headache. Pain still pulsed through her palms, but was reduced to a dull throb.
I didn’t escape the clutches of these vile people to be blindsided in the middle of the street, she swore to herself. I’m never going back there.
After the pain subsided, the words she deciphered through the static reverberated in her mind, “MADELIN, RUN, NOW!” The statement reeked of urgency. And, who was that shadowy figure in the dark pants anyway? He helped her get this far, but she still did not know his name. This was not the place to find answers, though, not while she was stuck in the hands of her captors.
She focused on what she could hear and feel. Traffic noise filtered in around her, and the gentle hum of an automobile vibrated through her prone body. The fluctuating momentum of stop and go traffic shifted her over and back on the seat.
‘Here’ could be anywhere.
She had little knowledge of the facility she escaped from and knew even less about El Paso. Her headache began to fade, but she feigned sleep for a bit longer. Her past was a blank canvas, but her gut told her to keep quiet. Again, the mysterious figure’s words flashed across her eyelids, as though advertised on a digital billboard.
At least the warnings of my escape have stopped.
The force of the driver applying the brakes brought her thoughts back to the car. She lay on her side, stretching the width of the vehicle. With her knees pulled up, the car’s momentum almost forced her into the floorboard. A set of feet slammed down in the seat behind her, and a man yelled, “Jesus, Johnny, what you think you’re doin’? Remember, we can’t damage the goods or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I know, dammit, but the roads full of nuts this early in the mornin’,” the driver shouted back. “Feel free to use ’em for target practice, Rick.”
Johnny’s complaints went on with enthusiasm. Rick chuckled and allowed his partner to continue his whining rant. Over the next few minutes, the diatribe became a collection of mumbled, incoherent sentences.
Madelin fluttered her eyelids, testing the light, and found it bearable. A few rays of sunlight made their way through the car window, but the lamps lining the street were still on. She glanced over and located the door handle before returning to her sightless observation.
This is my chance.
She flexed her muscles to test for restraints. Something bound her wrists behind her back, but her feet were loose. She wriggled a slender hand free. The wrappings caught on the plastic zip-tie, but eventually came undone.
Remaining still and taking measured breaths, she waited for the perfect opportunity. Her adrenaline grew in anticipation. So far, the driver had encountered no further opposition. Cars whizzed past and horns blared.
Then, before she could act, Rick whispered, “Hey Johnny, I don’t think the baggage is still sleepin’.”
As soon as the words left Rick's lips, Johnny slammed on the brakes. Madelin silently thanked him as she fell into the floorboard and out of her captor’s reach.
“Drug her again, Rick!” Johnny exclaimed. The car's tires squealed on asphalt.
She scrambled for the door handle and pulled. As the sounds of a busy street greeted her, she glanced back at Rick’s awkward face. He reached over the back seat and clutched for her head. Instinctively, she swung her right foot up into his nose. His eyes bulged as though competing with his inflated nostrils. Rick flew back into his
seat with a muffled roar while Madelin propelled herself out the door on a coiled leg.
The car was still skidding forward and Madelin tumbled onto the pavement, narrowly missing the oncoming traffic. She stood up in the street and tested her legs. Bruised muscles tensed, but nothing seemed broken. As the car shuddered to a stop, she looked for an avenue of escape.
Her captors jumped out and searched the road for her. Johnny was more alert at this point and spotted her within seconds. He leapt the front end of the car in a single bound. His footsteps clapped onto the pavement, and he sprinted forward. He would be on her in moments.
Panic set in. Seizing her chance, Madelin ran in the opposite direction.
I’ve got to lose them, but where?
No answer came, but she had to keep moving. As the store fronts flew by, she was oblivious of the tall buildings plowing their way through the clouds above. Some seemed to be constructed of mirrors and she raced her reflection down the street.
Running through the crowds of people along the sidewalks, she made her way into a different portion of the city. Her breathing was labored and her heart hammered in her ears. Looking around, Madelin tried to summon a semblance of safety.
Where are they? Did I lose them?
Time had lost all meaning; her legs ached for a moment’s reprieve and her lungs burned as though inhaling fire. She turned onto random streets and alleyways in the hopes of losing her would-be captors.
After passing numerous city-blocks, she contemplated finding a place to rest when a familiar voice echoed, “Madelin.” She stopped mid-stride, teetering to maintain her balance.
She listened as the voice repeated its pleading search. “Madelin...Madelin where are you?”
Wary, she found herself trusting him once again. He had not let her down so far, unless you count bringing her endless pain and then leaving at the most dire of times. But, what other option did she have?
Madelin panted, “I’m here … I ran … and now I’m here … on a street corner … Those guys from earlier are following me.” After a hesitation, another thought occurred to her. “… Who are you?” The alerts were still silent. Maybe she had time.
Pedestrians passed by and gave her a sidelong look as the conversation continued.
I must look like a deranged lunatic, she thought with a chuckle. Pushing the thought aside, she turned her attention back to the ghostly assistant.
“You’ll have to trust me,” he said, his words tinged with concern. There was silence as the speaker waited for her response. She second guessed her decision, but her gut said he was her way out. Besides, she had already followed him this far. A moment later, the man continued, “Find an alley to hide in as we work.”
Work? she wondered.
Still, she did as he asked. Stepping down the street, she disappeared into the morning shadows between two red brick buildings. Madelin glanced back the way she had come. Seeing no one, she leaned against the brick and let out a deep sigh. Her body shivered and then relaxed.
“Okay, I’m here,” she whispered.
A moment later, the man’s voice spoke up with urgency, “We’ll have to hurry. They have your position and are heading your way.”
“How do you know, and who are you?” she asked, annoyed.
He spoke over her, as though he had not heard. “Focus on one place that’s solid. Concentrate and watch for it to happen.”
“Watch for what?” Confusion spread over her face.
She stared at the wall across from her, unsure what more to do. Her fingers pried at the bricks, but found nothing unusual.
“I can’t find what you’re talking about. What is it?”
“Stop talking and focus. Concentrate and you’ll see it. It’s the whole reason they’re after you. Focus!”
She did as he asked and searched each brick for something that might stand out. What was he talking about? How did he know so much about her; even more than she knew about herself? She almost screamed in frustration, but instead fought for calm.
The voice came back to her again as if reading her mind, “I’ll tell you so long as you stay focused. Just listen and concentrate.” There was a pause before he continued, “You can travel through worlds similar to our own. They differ based on the choices people made throughout history. Few people can do this, and it could tip the scales of power on our plane. That’s why they want you. There’s a government agency created to deal with people like you. It’s called PASTOR. They want you and will do whatever it takes to get you back. They were the ones that killed your parents. I was a close friend of your father’s. I’ve been looking for you since that day, researching this PASTOR Agency and trying to discover their plans.”
Madelin listened to his words. As the sympathetic tone of his voice sunk in, her hatred for the men in pursuit reached a new level.
“You can’t remember because they messed with your head, stifling your memories. They were trying to mold you into an unquestioning operative with talents like no one has ever seen.”
Madelin considered the plausibility of his story as she fumbled at the wall. Though far-fetched, it rang true. Her anger ran rampant and she felt the budding flower of a dark rose grow in her heart. With the mentioned horrors this PASTOR group inflicted on her family, the petals began forming, harvesting her hatred.
These people are horrid, she thought, but I’ll be the one with the last word.
“Madelin, Madelin, MADELIN!” his voice repeated. The name became a shout and broke through her thoughts. “Hurry and focus! I can see them. They’re turning down your street, now. You have to find a way out.”
Madelin again focused her attention on the wall, searching repeatedly for something out of place. She felt the surface of the aged bricks, picking and prodding with her fingers. The rough edges chafed her delicate skin. Before she could find anything more than dust and deteriorating brick, the voice said, “Forget it. Run! Take the alley.”
She paused, still attempting to find what she wished she could grasp.
“Time to go, NOW!” he screamed. His voice was firm and solid. Without looking back, she sprinted down the alley, away from her pursuers.
Within seconds, she was up to speed. She took the alleyway corner without slowing and narrowly missed an open dumpster that had seen better days. She continued, looking ahead and wondering if there was another turn. It was hard to tell in the dimly lit alleyway. Suddenly, a brick wall loomed in front of her. It spanned the length of the alley, blocking her path.
She sought an escape route and found two doors to local establishments. She frantically tried them, but they thudded against their metal locks and refused to open. Peering back, Madelin was distantly confronted by two more PASTOR Officers. They were dressed in dark military uniforms that threatened to disappear in the shadows. As they approached, their faces flashed in the retreating light. They were the same two she had encountered earlier.
Rick’s nose was swollen and inflamed. His glaring eyes flashed with hatred. Johnny spoke to someone through a microphone while Rick leveled her with his gaze. Seeing his prey trapped, he hurtled head-long down the alleyway like an infuriated steam engine.
My God, panicked Madelin. There’s no where to go. How do I get out? I’m sure he won’t fall for the same move twice. From the look on his enraged face, she knew it did not matter. A kick would not faze him.
Slinking back into the shadows, something caught her eye. Painted on the wall was a graffiti image of a dark black rose, tinged with red from the dust of the bricks. It spoke to her like nothing ever had, latching onto her very heart. The petals opened and a dark liquid caressed their edges. The detail was exquisite and unlike anything she had ever seen. The flower grew from the wall as the petals unfolded and the substance pulled each one southward.
The flower reached for Madelin as she backed away from the oncoming train. His coal black eyes carried death. Madelin felt the edges of the closest petal…
A growl gurgled from the depths of the larg
e agent’s stomach, rising as he charged forward…
The growl rose to a deep snarl and reverberated off the walls around them…
She plucked the petal and a lip of the bricks came away with it, slicing through the air…
His heavy boots stomped along the pavement, accompanying his guttural scream. The steaming freight train loomed over her shoulder … the distance between them dwindling … disappearing…
A liquid partition glistened with an eerie blue hue, drawing her eyes where the flower once stood … Her friend’s voice spoke up through the tumult, whispering, “Yes, that’s it. Slip through…,” but he was cut off as she stepped into the morning light of another world. The sound of rampaging footsteps vanished.
Standing in a rock strewn yard, a large building stood in front of her with regal appeal. She released the graffiti flower’s petal, and it drifted to the ground on unseen currents. Madelin peered back through the portal and winced in anticipation. Rick was almost on her. Clutching the planar lip, she pressed it closed before the large operative came barreling through. The rift sealed at her touch, forming a thick scar. As a sudden sense of safety settled on her shoulders, she exhaled the breath she had held.
Looking around, people gawked at Madelin and gave her a wide birth as they walked along the sidewalk.
The agents are gone now, but what have I gotten myself into? She felt more lost than ever before, an outcast from her own world. She was truly alone. Where’s my friend, and where am I?
The honking of passing cars and the stiff smell of exhaust were all that replied.
* * * * *
Chapter 5: Flowers Can Be Venomous
Wednesday, June 21st
I was glad to have escaped, but wondered whether I would ever see my godfather again. I hate feeling helpless, but c'est la vie.
~Excerpt from the Journal of Madelin Boatweit~
Daniel glanced at the web-like lines glistening around him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. The El Paso Courthouse stood out like a majestic piece of history, overshadowed by the thin, blue lines. It was as though they were outlining a building that was a figment of his imagination. He pushed aside the notion that his own sanity might be to blame and the urge to find another bottle of whiskey. Then, the terror-stricken woman saw him.
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