“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Marisha said.
Colleen mulled it over, trying to figure out the best way to explain her thoughts on the afterlife or anything of spiritual belief. She could tread lightly, but in the end, blunt was the most practical.
“I don’t believe in any of it,” she said with steadfast self-assurance. Marisha recoiled, clearly taken aback. “It’s all fairytales. Things we tell ourselves to not be so scared of the Terror or the death it inevitably brings. I prayed some kind of prayer every night for my dad to come back and for us to be a family again, and it never happened. I’d pray for healing for the people I met who were younger than my mom, already painfully near death from the Terror. Not once did it work. I get it, I do, but the minute that knife pierced my mom’s chest and Chaz took her from me, I gave up all semblance of belief. Maybe God is real, but if he is, then he's’ either an asshole or he just doesn’t care.” Colleen saw anything resembling love on Marisha's face disappear. She knew the damage of revealing her beliefs about 'what comes after this world’ would be permanent. Maybe her cynicism had a time and place, but it wasn’t right now.
“That didn’t help,” Marisha said as she stood up.
“Maybe I could've been more gentle with that one.” Colleen reached out and wrapped her hands around Marisha’s and gave them a squeeze. Her heart felt better for making honesty the priority between the two of them. She had forgiven Marisha for keeping the secret, no matter how huge it had been. The last thing any baby needed was the people who loved it most to loathe each other.
“You don’t do gentle, so well,” Marisha teased.
“Another thing I can thank my mother for,” Colleen laughed but suddenly stopped when a burning sensation began between her lungs and quickly traveled up, getting more uncomfortable as it reached the back of her throat. Her throat felt like it was on fire, and was now coupled with a rumbling sensation spreading across her belly.
“Are you okay?” Marisha said, worry forming on her face.
The desire to gag became nearly unbearable. Giving in, she heaved, but nothing came up. Repeatedly, the dry heaves pulled at her already sore muscles.
Colleen wiped the corner of her mouth, then rubbed her temples in a counterclockwise motion. “That was weird. I’m good, promise. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the freeloader you are carrying doing tiny somersaults in your insides,” Marisha smiled, reaching a hand out and placing it on her belly.
“Freeloader? I think Morty heard you.”
Marisha looked up. Colleen followed her eyes as they scanned the massive structure rising from behind the garden. She thought it had looked huge before, but this was on a whole other level.
Marisha looked at her and asked, “I was going to ask you to join me, but now it doesn’t seem like such a—”
“I’ll do it. I want to climb it too,” Colleen rattled off quickly.
“Wow, am I that predictable? I went from freezing up in Tacoma to wanting to scale this huge thing,” Marisha said, sounding disappointed.
“Well, yes, but who cares? Lito is still off with Jackson, and this could be just the thing our souls need. You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.” Colleen took her hand in her own.
The sign at the bottom of the stairs alerted them to the 98 impeding flights of stairs that spiraled to the top. They met the first few flights with enthusiasm and vigor, but it didn’t last long. By the 30th floor, every muscle in Colleen's legs burned with each successive step. High above, a frayed steel cable stretched from the tower to a domed theater below, nearly a quarter-mile away. A cluster of rusted carabiners had settled into the slack.
After countless breaks and moments when only a single step was taken before resting again, the women neared the top. With only a few steps to go, the steel and aluminum structure swayed back and forth. Nausea had abated, but Colleen wasn’t sure how much more her stomach could take before it was rumbling again. She breached the observation desk and collapsed on the diamond-patterned steel floor.
“In hindsight…” Colleen tried to speak, but her rapid breathing kept the words from forming.
“Me too,” Marisha said as she took in huge breaths of her own as if her body could not get enough oxygen. “In my defense, I was younger and in better shape. Complacency does that to you.”
“Tell me about it. Every morning when I was—I don’t know, twelve years old—my mom would wake me up to train. For like two years, it’s literally all we did. Train, walk and eat when we found something at least halfway edible. I was in amazing shape,” Colleen said, as her heart rate returned to a typical tempo.
“Yuck! Why did she stop?” Marisha held her side and rubbed just below her kidneys.
“I started putting up a fight, and I think she just tired of my pushing back. I feel bad now; I was just being an ass. Don’t get me wrong, her training saved my life—” Colleen looked away, counting on her fingers, “dozens of times. I hated it, and I mean hated it, but what I wouldn’t give to have just one more of those mornings.”
Colleen watched as Marisha’s eye’s glazed over. She slapped her hands over them and moaned in between deep breaths. She tried to stand up, but her legs collapsed. Colleen jumped up to catch her, just missing her with her weak arms. Instead, steadying herself on the railing.
“My head, my head. It feels… like… oh god… someone is... Mama! Mama!” Marisha screamed.
Gusts of wind pounded the top of the Needle. Colleen had been holding on tight, but Marisha was unprepared and lost her footing. She crashed into the railing, her elbow hitting first. Before either of them could recover, an icy blast slapped them in the face as they attempted to grip the cold metal. Marisha’s dead arm flopped by her side as she ricocheted off the rail, her head colliding with Colleen. Colleen’s large frame held tight, absorbing the brunt of the impact with her chest.
“Ouch!” Colleen winced, grabbing her chest with one hand and wrapping the other around Marisha. “Those are going to be sore in the morning, well what little I have to work with,” she chuckled.
As she grabbed Marisha’s shoulder and pushed her back upright, Colleen couldn’t help but notice something different in her girlfriend's eyes. There was anger—no hate, that had taken over. Her eyes had doubled in size as veins surfaced in a red spiderweb. Marisha’s shoulders tightened under her fingers, breaking her grip. Two hands violently popped Colleen in her already sore chest and made a swimming motion to escape, nearly taking her breath away.
A guttural, almost inhuman growl escaped. “Why are you touching me, freak? Get off me!”
A look of what she could only describe as vile disgust was plastered on her face. Colleen stared ahead, too paralyzed to respond.
“I said, why were you touching me? Are you too stupid to understand me?” Marisha snapped her fingers only inches from her face. Colleen could only stare on in disbelief.
“Huh, looks like you're either dumb or too scared to talk, and I honestly don’t give a damn which one it is. I don’t know what you were trying just now, but I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need some pervert trying to get one over on me.”
Colleen snapped out of stunned silence, still reeling, “What—what’s going on here? Is this some kind of sick joke? Because it’s not funny. Try again, Marisha.”
“How do you know my name?” she demanded, “I bet you’ve been following me around and stalking me like a pathetic mutt.”
“Stalking? What are you talking about? Seriously. This isn’t funny. I don’t know where you got the idea, but you need to stop while you are ahead.”
Colleen looked again into her narrowed eyes, hoping to see a tell, something to give this grand joke away, and to her dismay, all that was there was real. This wasn’t the Marisha she knew. This was somebody entirely different; a puppet master of the Terror was pulling strings.
“Stop while I’m ahead? What are you going to do about it
?” Marisha puffed up her chest and inched forward. She stabbed a finger into Colleen’s chest, rocking her back on her heels. “It seems to me you think we are friends? I don’t have loser friends like you. Certainly not ones, with…with a face like yours.”
Marisha ran her hand over Colleen’s head, her finger still firmly planted into her chest. In any other situation, with any other person, Colleen would've had her assailant in a chokehold and watched as the light flickered out of their eyes, but now all she could do is just stand there, broken.
Marisha pulled back and slapped a hand over her mouth and laughed, “Oh my, and those feet look-at-those-feet. I could flip you over and toss you in the sound and paddle you to Alaska right now if I wanted. A little lacking in the flotation department, but I’d make do.”
Colleen pressed her fingers against the back of her neck and stepped forward, drawing whatever demon had taken over her best friend off guard.
“I don’t know who you think you are or what you’ve done with my girlfriend, but we need to get one thing straight—”
“Girlfriend? Whoa there, I don’t swim in that ocean, babe. And if I did, I think I'd have better taste than someone like you.”
“Apparently, you don't, because—”
Marisha reached forward and brushed her fingers against Colleen’s cheek. Colleen leaned forward into the embrace as she felt the tension in the fingers release. She grabbed the now gentle hand and placed a peck to the palm. Feeling the fingers again run over her hair, this time without the hate behind it. The usual warming light behind Marisha’s eyes was back.
“Where did you go just—”
Two palms slammed against her already sore chest, rocketing her back and into the rail. The light was gone, replaced with absolute black rage.
“What do you think you are doing? I thought I told you I’m not your girlfriend. Your patheticness just keeps getting worse.”
In an entirely reflexive action, Colleen lunged for Marisha and cupped her face in her hands, “I know you are in there; we’ll get through this. Just please come back to me.”
Marisha's knee rammed right above hers. Colleen’s leg instantly drooped, and the next hit came to her ribcage, causing the air to rush out of her lungs. She gasped while trying to stand back up, but it was futile as she fell to her hands. She brought one hand up and cradled her stomach, protecting it from the next blow. The last thing she saw was a boot coming towards her face. She turned just quick enough to miss the brunt of the impact.
Arms and legs buckled as her face planted into the ground. She had avoided being knocked out, she could no longer move; paralysis has taken over.
“That should teach you to keep your freak hands to yourself. As if anyone would ever want you?” A low gruff came from Marisha as she spun on her heels and walked away. Each step resonating on the metal floor. Her vision blurred more with each successive breath.
The heavy steps come to an abrupt halt, and she heard her name.
“Colleen? What are you doing on the floor, silly? Get up.”
What the heck is wrong with this girl. One minute, she’s my best friend; the next, she’s trying to freaking kill me.
Colleen tried to move, and although the feeling had returned to her body, she was exhausted. Slowly, she pulled her hands in and pushed herself back up. Halfway up, she strained, eventually falling back down.
“Here,” Marisha said, sweetly laughing, “hold on, hold on. Let me help you. I don’t want you hurting yourself. How did you end up face down on the ground?”
Colleen grimaced with the next enormous breath she took in.
“You really don’t remember?”
Marisha’s eye twitched, and she reached into her pocket and searched for something. Her fingers started moving inside her pocket, flipping the light switch back and forth.
“What are you talking about? I just got up here and found you like this.” Marisha opened her mouth wide into a self-aggrandizing laugh, then reached down.
Before their fingers could touch, Marisha’s shoulders were twisted, and her neck flew back into an almost unnatural position. With another powerful tug, she was yanked back and pulled taut against the cylindrical railing of the Space needle.
Marisha let out a terrifying scream. Four hands reached out and wrenched Marisha back and over the railing. She was gone in an instant, plummeting below, her screams dissipating. With every fiber of her remaining strength, Colleen pushed up again.
A booted foot swept her left arm out from under her and made her kiss the metal floor once more.
What the—can’t I catch a break for once today.
Her left arm was wrenched toward the middle of her back as a sweaty, dark-haired arm slid across her face, gathering her up. She felt cold steel against her throat as a warm sensation ran down her neck.
“Don’t move.” He snarled. His hot breath was only inches from her ear, making her stomach turn. “Why don’t you just be a good little girl and not scream if you know what’s good for you. I sure would hate to have to split you.”
He made a sound like air sucking through his teeth.
“Anyway, she’s mine now, so there’s really no need to come looking for her.”
He lifted her head up a few inches, then slammed it against the metal. Immense pain radiated through her jaw, and then she was out.
Thirty-Five
Mohan
“How long have you had the headaches?” Finley asked, watching Mohan press on the front of his head, right above his eyes, where his raw sinuses throbbed with nearly unbearable pain. The rain pounded on the metal roof, sounding like mortar fire.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to focus on the question, “I don’t know? On and off for maybe a week? Why does it…ugh…matter?”
He walked his fingers across his scalp and dug his nails into the soft skin and gripped a handful of his long, black hair. Hoping that he could take his mind off the throbbing with a different form of pain, he tugged harder.
“Do you remember where you might have been?” Finley asked, while Amelia examined him.
Another injection of pinpoint pain bored into his skull, even deeper now. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't hold them back any longer.
“Stop, Amelia,” Finley said, “He is obviously more comfortable downstairs in the dark. You've looked him over enough.” Finley grabbed Mohan under his legs and hoisted him up. He carried him back down the stairs, each step felt like someone took a hammer to his skull. He was placed on the makeshift pallet bed and curled up into a ball. With the pain still in full effect, he rocked back and forth, hoping he would pass out already.
The man closed the door and turned off the lights that finally brought some respite from the pain. Behind the door, he heard raised voices as they argued.
“What is wrong with you two?” Finely asked, his words abrupt and unforgiving, “He’s just a boy. A boy Colleen seems to have wanted us to be the ward of. Did you two forget?”
“It wasn’t that bad. You really don’t have to be so dramatic over some kid we hardly know. He could've been sent by someone as a… lookout,” Toby said, shrugging his shoulders.
“A lookout? What are you talking about? And you think I'm being dramatic? You're the one who wanted to shoot the kid less than twelve hours ago just for being on eye level with you,” Finley shot back.
He heard a woman’s muffled laugh, then the soft sounds of a baby waking up.
“Listen,” Amelia began, “I know we have to look after him, but he also has information that could help us. He could be the key.”
“How about we just let it subside, then you two can try your interrogation again,” Finley’s voice lowered, barely audible through the thin door.
The room smelled musty and almost like wet soil from a freshly tilled garden. The only light slipped under the door, stopping just short of him.
“Okay, whatever,” Toby scoffed, kicking something with his foot.
“And to think nature let you p
rocreate. Poor kid," Finley snapped at him, hitting him where it hurt.
“Whoa, hold on. That’s harsh, even for you, brother.” Toby said, allowing for a longer pause, “It’s not my fault you and Amelia can’t seem to do the most basic of thing in human existence. I didn't decide that y'all can't get pregnant. So, take your anger up with God before you decide to take it out on the rest of us.”
A deafening silence floated in the air. Mohan knew what came next would not be pretty. It was true; The headaches had started a week ago when he was less than fifty miles away. Had he not been so close, Mohan would have turned around and not pushed forward, but he was on the verge of starving. The most recent collection of thieves to pass through Clayton might not have done anything to him directly, but they had taken everything he had left to survive. With the drought that year, even his crop of hatch peppers had been paltry. He had no other choice than to pull up his roots and find somewhere else to settle. It was better to die on his feet than sleeping in an old coat closet.
Mohan kicked himself for not having been more convincing. If he had, then maybe he could have gone with Colleen. They would've been an incredible team. There and gone in less than a day, she had left an indelible make on him. She told him to find the Hitchens if he ever needed help on her way out the door and only time would tell if that was the right choice.
The arguing outside the door continued, but was no longer close enough for him to tell what they were saying. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to settle down anytime soon.
He laid there motionless; this by far had been the longest headache he had ever had. Mohan had never considered hurting himself before, but if these didn’t get any better, he wasn’t sure he would be able to convince himself that it would be okay.
“I wonder if this is what my parents felt like when they were dying…” his breath hastened.
The Maddening: Book 2 in the Terror Saga Page 19
