The Prophecies Trilogy (Omnibus Edition): A Dystopian Adventure

by Linda Hawley

  Ann, remember Elinor. Sit down, I willed myself through the shock of the new revelation.

  I looked over to my seat next to Chow and mutely moved to it. Grace walked to the desk and sat on the edge of it, facing Chow and me. The other remote viewer she’d brought closed the door and then stood by it.

  “I’ve been authorized to tell you anything you want to know about our project here,” she said abruptly.

  Only because you never intend to let us leave here, I realized coldly.

  Again, I remembered Vanessa’s future words, that Chow and I would die, and that time would continue down the distorted path that they’re creating. Chow and I remained silent, looking at her.

  “What would you like to know?” she asked directly.

  I decided to proceed with caution, remembering their insurance policy.

  “I was wondering about the map—”

  She interrupted me. “I bet you are. Strap in for this little tidbit,” she began, grinning. “It seems that every time we make a significant historical correction, the earth absorbs the change in the timeline. It’s been resulting in earthquakes.”

  I knew something wasn’t right with the earthquake in Shanghai.

  “It’s unintentional, but we consider it collateral damage for the timeline corrections that are absolutely necessary.”

  I felt Chow stiffen next to me.

  Collateral damage? You’re killing millions of innocent people, and you call it collateral damage?

  I steeled myself, trying not to outwardly react, while every fiber of my being was simultaneously screaming out. Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded my understanding. I was sure my face betrayed my horror. Grace’s eyes were unreadable.

  * * *

  We spent all day training the government remote viewers to identify others during live views. I didn’t think we’d given them anything that was of any use to them, but I worried about what I’d be coerced to reveal when they demanded it.

  When Charlie returned us to our room and locked us in again, Chow and I took turns using the bathroom to communicate with each other. Being able to communicate privately was a healing balm for us both.

  We had several conversations occurring at the same time, in order to diminish the frequency of toilet visits, and suspicion from those who spied on us in our room. In our toilet paper discussions, Chow revealed that he was hopeful that GOG had acted quickly upon Jean-Pierre Belle’s request and had removed Eliott and Elinor from Utah before the government tried to abduct them. Even though his question was logical, I’d seen video of Elinor being abducted, and I didn’t want to waste time discussing something that we had no hope to fix, but Chow was insistent. He wanted to verify that the government was indeed holding Elinor and Eliott. During our months together, I’d learned to trust him unequivocally, and I did so now. We agreed to remote view—in present time—the Belle’s Chateau de La Rongere.

  We decided to view it at nine p.m., which would make it four a.m. in Vitre, France. Since we knew the layout of the chateau, it would be easy to scan for them, since they’d be sleeping if they were there. To the eyes watching the video feed from our room, we’d appear as though we slept in our beds as we began our horizontal meditation, followed by the remote view.

  * * *

  I shot up out of the bed, uncontrollable cries exploding from me. Chow was by my side quicker than I could have imagined, given his injuries. As he held me, tears streamed down my face as we rocked back and forth together.

  “You were right,” I whispered in his ear.

  “Ann…my dear, dear friend,” he said tenderly, crying tears of joy himself, which soaked the sleeve of my pajamas.

  In our remote view, we’d seen Eliott and Elinor asleep in the guest room at Chateau de La Rongere, embracing one another in safety.

  Humpty had lied—they had no insurance policy. Chow and I were now free to plan our escape.

  Chapter 31

  “How y’all doin’ this mornin’?” Charlie asked with spirit as he picked us up.

  I met his large, round brown eyes and said merrily, “We’re good,” with a smile and then crossed the door’s threshold into the hall.

  Chow nodded at him. This morning was the most talkative Charlie had been since he’d fed me in the white room. He wore a curious expression, and I wondered if he’d seen us in our room last night. Chow and I both wondered if he was the GOG double agent that Jean-Pierre had told us about, but we reserved our judgment. With his 'keymaster' status, though, we certainly wanted him to be. We’d decided to let him take the initiative and contact us if he was GOG. We’d created a code word to use if we ever needed to play the Charlie card, and that was to say the word chocolate, referring to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We would only risk contacting him in an urgent situation.

  As the three of us walked abreast down the hall, Charlie quietly asked, “Do y’all have everything ya need in your room?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said with a smile and then added, “I appreciate that we can communicate freely…” I paused. “Since we’re rooming together.”

  Charlie’s eyes snapped to me, though he kept his head straight ahead. I thought it was an indication that we had our GOG man. Looking towards Chow, I saw his mouth turn up at the corners, ever so slightly.

  “Glad to hear it,” Charlie said politely in his Texas drawl.

  * * *

  In our toilet-paper communication since last night’s remote view, Chow and I had decided to covertly disrupt Project Continuum’s remote-viewing efforts. We intended to be the bug in their system, and it filled me with excited anticipation. Chow’s spirits had also lifted, even though he was still healing from his injuries.

  All morning, we’d been filling viewers’ heads with every bit of garbage we could contrive to defeat their goals. We kept our faces compliant for the cameras, wanting Humpty, Grace, and the rest of our captors to think we believed their lies.

  It was lunchtime, and Chow and I sat together in the break room behind the remote-viewing room. The government viewers vacated the break room when we entered; they seemed to be voluntarily separating themselves from us, as though we had something that was contagious. It felt odd but, in a way, welcomed. We didn't know who, if anyone, we could trust. Chow and I sat next to one another, facing the break-room door, and ate in silence, knowing that cameras were recording us every moment.

  The door opened, and we both looked up. Before I could respond, two military-looking handlers grabbed me by my arms, dragging me into the familiar chair-on-wheels. Two others had their hands on Chow, but he was fighting them.

  One of my handlers plunged a needle into my arm as I spat out the last bite of my lunch into his face. I looked across the room, searching for Chow, who was still fighting the burly men that were forcing him into his own torture chair.

  With the drugs in my system, I knew that resisting was futile, and I let the goons restrain me, all the while wishing that I wore my boots with the heel blade.

  They know, I realized, as the drugs drew me into their hold.

  Chapter 32

  As I forced my eyes open, the dread of what would come next met my consciousness.

  No! My mind called out as a foreboding ran through me.

  Our captors had been torturing Chow and making me watch.

  In the dark room, I could hear his raspy breathing. Most recently, they’d waterboarded him again, as I helplessly watched only ten feet away.

  That afternoon, I’d quickly learned that Psycho-doc was excited by watching torture. He also enjoyed slapping me, particularly when others watched. My face was badly bruised, even though we’d only been in the torture room for half the day. Psycho-doc had saved his real aggression for Chow. He’d been repeatedly waterboarded, and his nose was certainly broken after taking a punch to the face from the twenty-something assistant.

  They were interrogating us to find out the location of GOG’s leaders. Chow and I could give them nothing, for we knew nothing of their wher
eabouts. This was a safety mechanism of GOG’s organization. Of course, our lack of cooperation only angered them further.

  Before they left for the night, Psycho-doc and his assistant made a theatrical show of hanging two saline bags for both of us, alongside a tray of torture implements. Then he plunged something into Chow’s arm; I assumed it was a sedative.

  As his assistant held the door open for him, Psycho-doc leaned to within a few inches of my face—his putrid breath inescapable—and said, “Tomorrow, you will sing for me.” Then he laughed the laugh of a sadomasochist, adding, “You will not soon forget me…and I will be the last thing you see as you take your final breath.”

  He stood back, showing his yellow teeth in a disgusting smile. A chill went through me. I knew that everything he told me was true. He flipped off the light just before the door slammed shut behind him.

  I had to endure the night with clarity of mind, facing my fears of what would come, for tomorrow, Chow and I would likely forfeit our lives at his hands.

  I again heard Chow’s raspy breathing in our dark room and thought I’d try to rouse him again.

  “Chocolate,” I whispered, trying to get him to respond to our code word in some way.

  Several seconds passed before he slurred, “Cannot help now.”

  Still affected by the sedative, he wasn’t very lucid. I hoped the drugs took the edge off his pain. As I wished that I could do something for him—even to lift his spirits—I heard a key in the door lock.

  Oh crap.

  The door opened slightly, allowing two people to enter. I only saw them by their barely-there shadows. The door was silently closed behind them. They did not turn on the light.

  This doesn’t look good, I thought, as dread streamed through me.

  I was frightened in the dark silence. Having always experienced Psycho-doc open the door widely, announcing his presence with a sneer, I didn’t think it was him.

  The two shadows moved stealthily in the pitch dark, and one of them approached me. Hands grasped my shoulders, and I shuttered.

  I felt a warm breath at my ear as a woman’s voice whispered, “We’re here to get you out.”

  I tried to see who she was, but I was blind in the dark.

  She continued quickly. “We must be silent. Can you walk?”

  I nodded. My adrenaline exploded. Until this moment, I’d lost all hope that GOG would rescue us.

  She left my side, and I sensed her moving to Chow as the other shadow began untying my leg restraints.

  His musky cologne broke through, and relief spilled over me.

  The keymaster!

  It was as though Charlie had heard me. He silently patted my leg as though to comfort me. He moved up, quickly releasing the restraint clips that held my arms, and then I was loose.

  Charlie leaned to my ear, whispering, “I know y’all have been beat like a rented mule, but we gotta gecha outta here, darlin’.”

  He slipped an arm around me, helping me off the chair until I stood. “Stay here,” he whispered.

  I stayed.

  How can they see? I wondered.

  I heard him move back from me, towards Chow. I listened to them release Chow from the chair, which sounded challenging. After a few seconds, I sensed the three of them next to me. The woman leaned to my ear again.

  “I’ll lead us out. You help with Chow.”

  She then took my hand and led me to him. I put his arm around the back of my shoulders and neck and held on to that wrist while I put my other arm around him, holding him up. I felt Charlie’s arm on the other side, doing the same. Chow felt like dead weight and was barely conscious; it was hard work to hold him up. I realized that getting him out would be a challenge.

  The woman opened the door a crack. It was then that I noticed her headgear. She had night-vision goggles strapped to her head, which was how she could see in the dark room. The hallway was lit with emergency lighting only and must have been clear, because she opened the door wide, holding it for the three of us. As we stepped out into the hall, the light illuminated her as she pulled off her goggles.

  What the heck? I thought, shocked to the core.

  Grace met my eyes. Her face was rigid.

  Conflicting messages flooded my mind. None of it made any sense, and I was fearful that she was going to betray us. I thought of Charlie and how I felt as though I could trust him. I decided that if Charlie could trust Grace, then I could too—temporarily. I had to do it for Chow. In his physical condition, I knew that he couldn’t run to escape. We silently followed Grace down the dim hall, but I felt as though every neuron in my brain was firing in warning at the same time.

  She stopped at a door marked Exit and then cautiously opened it, revealing a stairwell, lit a little better than the hall. Charlie motioned his head for Grace to come to him. She did, and they whispered in one another’s ears.

  She came around to me—my skin ignited in a prickly sensation—and leaned into my ear, whispering, “I’ll help with Chow. Continue down three flights of stairs and then stop at the landing.”

  Knowing that she and Charlie would get Chow down more swiftly, I reluctantly transferred Chow to her. She and Charlie immediately put him into a two-handed seat and began ferrying him down the stairs. It worried me deeply how injured he was to need such help.

  I descended the stairs, wondering what was below us. After the third flight, I stopped and then turned around to face them. Chow’s head was tilted forward, and his skin was ashen; he was completely unconscious. Charlie head-motioned for me to take his place, and I did.

  He whispered with clipped breaths, “Next door’s the exit. Stay here. I’ll fetch y’all in a minute.”

  I could see the sweat beading on his forehead. He went through the door cautiously.

  My eyes met Grace’s. She shook her head, demanding my silence. Rapidly breathing, the strain on her was apparent. The air was thick between us as her eyes kept darting to the door.

  Within a couple of minutes, Charlie returned. Closing the door behind him, he leaned to me urgently, whispering, “It’s clear, but we gotta move like the dog’s after us.”

  I nodded, just once, curtly.

  He moved to Grace, presumably to tell her the same thing. She asked him a question that I couldn’t hear, and he quickly answered. Returning to me, Charlie motioned with his head to take my place with Chow.

  He whispered, “Follow us.”

  Moving to the door, I opened it for the three of them. After they were through, I followed, and then I realized that we were in a massive underground parking garage. Unlike the stairway, it was brightly lit, fully illuminating us. Our stealth had been eliminated, and fear coursed through me.

  We passed two empty parking rows, and then they stopped at a car, which I guessed was our ride. It was a powder-blue 1957 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, with fins in the back and whitewall tires, parked in a corner of the garage. In another time and place, I’d be oohing and aahing at the beauty. The Caddy sat in the only shadowed parking space within our view.

  The trunk lid was open, the spare tire upright and forward. I assumed this was where Chow and I would lie. Just as the thought occurred to me, Charlie and Grace struggled to lift Chow into the trunk. I took his legs and gently set them in, aiding them. Once the unconscious Chow was in, Charlie rushed to the driver’s side as Grace and I stood there.

  She put a finger to her lips, reminding me again to stay mute. I nodded my compliance. As her finger moved from her lips to return to her side, her face contorted in a painful expression. It was as if she were caught in slow motion.

  I knew she hadn’t been shot, because there was no sound in the garage. It was blood filling the whites of her eyes that I first noticed. The red surrounded her hazel irises, enhancing green specks, just before I heard her sharp intake of breath.

  Before I reached out, she was down, and her head hit the ground with a solid crack that only meant bone on concrete. Her lifeless, blood-filled eyes stared back at me as horror f
illed my mind.

  The sound rapidly drew Charlie back. As his vision set upon Grace’s inert body, his hand flew to his mouth, and I heard the words escape behind them.

  “Oh, darlin’. What’ve they done to you?” he said mournfully.

  With tears filling his eyes, he stepped to her, scooped her up in his arms, and tenderly laid her on the garage floor in the middle of the empty space parallel to his car. He leaned down and kissed her once on the forehead, then said something I couldn’t hear.

  I stood in front of the open trunk in shock. After one last look at Grace, Charlie stepped to me.

  He leaned in close and quietly said, “There’s nothin’ we can do for her now.”

  He wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and then gingerly picked me up, placing me in the trunk alongside Chow. He abruptly closed the lid on us, flooding us with darkness yet again.

  As I heard the driver’s side door close, my mind reeled with the events of the last twenty minutes.

  Chapter 33

  Charlie started the engine and backed out of the parking space as though he were leaving work on an ordinary day in 1957.

  Listening to Chow’s labored breaths, I reached to his face and felt the sick, cold sweat roll off of him. I’d never seen him like this before; I was intensely worried at whether he’d make it.

  After driving a few minutes, the Caddy slowly came to a stop. My eyes snapped to the direction of the trunk’s latch, and I wondered if it was about to open. My entire body went rigid, coursed with adrenaline. As the moments ticked by, I worried that Chow would stir or some other thing would happen—like armed men shooting us in the head. Of course, the de Ville was built like a Mack truck, so I could only hear slight mumbles of a discussion outside; I couldn’t even tell if it was Charlie speaking. I dreaded that we were in an indefensible position. Just as the thought took hold of my emotions, the car smoothly began moving again.

  Relief flooded my senses, and I lay my head next to Chow and took his hand in mine. As we gained distance from the FEMA facility, I tried to make sense of what had occurred.