It was the best plan I could manage, pathetic as it was. I had to admit to myself that fatigue was clouding my ability to anticipate and respond to challenges. For reasons unknown, the need for rest overwhelmed my brain.
I didn’t have time to wash my dress before the darkness came for me. I simply hung it in the small closet, hoping that by morning it wouldn’t reek of coconut oil.
Finally, I climbed into the bed, not knowing if I would be captured during my recurring blackout, or if I would make it safely through the night.
I arranged my body carefully, and as the darkness claimed my consciousness, all I could do was hope my safeguards would succeed.
∆
When I woke, positioned comfortably in bed, the room was quiet, and no one hovered over me with a pair of wrist restraints.
Relieved, I slowly practiced my morning routine and nearly managed to miss the start of my scheduled time to be in the archive.
When I took my station at the hotboards the building was as usual, except it seemed cooler today. The supervisor, Killian, drifted past my station, but neither acknowledged me nor seemed to notice I was occupying the seat. I saw no one else.
Flick did not materialize from the shadows.
No Ajel, either. She sent me a message on my screenboard that she was not coming to work, her head was aching from some sinus malady, and I could enjoy a quiet day without her constant interference. Sarcasm was her preferred method of communication.
I wasted no time and began the careful process of searching the archive for information about event stories pertaining to enforcement officials detaining citizens for forging documents.
The only way I would evade Flick successfully was to leave the city, and sanctioned public transit was the most efficient way to accomplish that goal. I couldn’t travel under my real name or the name I was using now, so it was prudent to create another identity as quickly as possible. After an hour of delicate searching, I’d managed to come up with only one account of record fraud, and that was concerning a man who tried to deny a marriage he was hoping to conceal.
So, it seemed that forged documents could be produced, but likely it was time-consuming and posed a high risk of discovery.
Therefore the best way for me to leave the city would be to find transportation, destroy my current record, and lie about my identity.
Tomorrow. I would leave tomorrow.
I knew from experience the Hammermill Refuge Center took immigrants who came in on small boats. Those boats came from somewhere, and that was my next step.
I would locate and stow away on one of those vessels, or talk my way into gaining passage and leave New Dublin behind.
The plan contained a great many holes at present, but as the day wore on, I decided it was my best option.
There was a lot of preparation ahead and my mind was focused on formulating the details of my departure, so I didn’t see the men until they were already walking through the front door.
Both of them were large, but one of them practically cast a shadow over his companion as they came into reception and stood before my desk.
They wore brown uniforms and the same facial expression.
Excited/determined.
The shorter of the two men squinted at my face. “It’s her.”
I stood up and backed rapidly toward the stairs but the giant man took four colossal strides forward and grabbed me. He was so strong I felt the bones in my arm squeak from the force. I tried to jerk my arm free but he seemed to hardly notice.
The shorter man shook his head when he saw me attempt to pull away. “Stop it. We don’t want to hurt you.”
But we will, was a less than subtle implication. He leaned in and hissed. “Come with us. Quietly.”
I relaxed and blinked innocently. “All right.”
The three of us headed for the door and I refrained from resisting. It wouldn’t help my situation. I needed more information before choosing a course of action.
I delivered my best impersonation of earnest and stupid. “Where are we going? Someplace nice?”
The giant man eased his grip slightly and looked at me, bemused. “Did this need both of us?”
Unfortunately, the shorter man was not convinced. “Keep a hand on her, will you?”
“Am I in trouble?” I asked with wide eyes. “It was so pretty I had to take it, but I can go back and pay for the scarf.”
Short man stopped and turned to look at the scarf around my neck. “You swiped a scarf?”
The two men shared a rapid facial conversation.
Confusion/surprise.
Realization/worry.
Giant man gripped me firmly but kept his eyes on his companion. “But I thought we—”
“Shut up.”
Fear/fear, anger/fear, dread/urgency.
They must have been misled about this errand and that information was cause for concern.
Short man cut the air with an angry hand gesture. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. Let’s get out of here.”
My giant companion tightened his grip again and we walked on.
I accompanied them without objection, giving every impression of compliance while I gathered data.
They lacked the hard discipline of enforcement men, obviously didn’t have the same level of training and were operating without a plan. They hesitated when I demonstrated cooperation so they were not adaptable to sudden change, and the fact that they wore clothing slightly too small for their broad frames indicated it was stolen.
These men likely were a couple of amateur thugs sent to pick me up because they were large and looked intimidating. They shared the same cocky aura, coupled with a distinct absence of expertise, so they were not capable of anticipating problems or dealing with sudden complications.
Why did so many individuals have such an interest in locating me?
Irrelevant.
Escape first. Ponder later.
I took my cue from the shorter man and followed his muscled frame obediently as he scooted awkwardly along the street. I pretended to walk arm and arm with the larger of my two abductors and did nothing that could be construed as resistance.
“How much longer?” I said.
Short man snapped a look at me. “You don’t talk. You just stay quiet and move.”
“I’ve got her,” giant man said reassuringly.
“Just you keep her, see?” said short man angrily.
There was a long, grumpy pause.
“Right, right.”
I had no idea what they wanted, whom they represented or what their ultimate goal really was, but I could see clearly what their immediate intentions were.
They were taking me to someone.
Someone they feared.
Someone who had misrepresented the nature of this task and now they were both on edge.
Our trio hurried along the streets and I formulated my next move.
Watching the facial expressions on the short man told me almost everything I needed to know.
He looked panicked, was frightened of failure and of being surprised. He liked to be in control, and he liked to know what would happen next. Uncertainty was his enemy.
This situation had just become uncertain and his crab-walk clearly displayed his agitation.
As for the great ape holding my arm, well, his concerns were quite different.
He longed for approval. His constant eye contact with the short man, coupled with a desperate need for reassurance and desire to please, indicated an innate insecurity. His ultimate prize in life was feeling useful and receiving praise from the team leader. He wished to earn respect, to prove he wasn’t incompetent.
So I needed to surprise, and humiliate them, in that order.
As we descended a long flight of stairs I took three steps, pretended to slip, floundered wildly to steady myself, and as giant reached over to catch me, I jammed my leg between his feet and shoved him forward with everything I had.
His ankle turne
d against my foot and he toppled forward. His top-heavy bulk avalanched down the steps and he crashed into his smaller companion like a tidal wave of flailing flesh. The two of them careened and yelped their way down the stairs, but I wasn’t there to see it. I was already moving in the opposite direction.
A running woman draws attention, so I slowed my pace the moment I rounded the corner of the closest building and nonchalantly went inside. The room I entered bustled with activity and appeared to be a medical waiting area of some kind. Several people sat in the rectangular space, and I approached the desk as if I belonged.
The young woman smiled as I greeted her, and when she began to ask my name I simply walked straight by, breezed through the door leading to the inner area and headed down the hallway.
I heard her call me. “You can’t go in yet!”
I didn’t stop but kept walking until I found a rear exit. The door opened without producing any sort of alarm, which was advantageous.
Outside, the situation looked marginally better.
The alley behind the building appeared deserted.
Right or left?
Randomly, I chose left and started moving again.
Before I reached the end of the alley, giant man appeared, blocking my path. He lunged for me but I jumped back and managed to dodge his grip.
I turned, ran a few steps and saw short man coming at me from the other direction. Fury/indignation.
Trying to escape through the alley had neatly caged me in.
A horrible miscalculation on my part.
They were not as incompetent as I’d hoped or else they had stumbled upon me with dumb luck. I took a step back from short man and determined my only chance of escape was dodging by him and running.
I crouched, preparing to dash past him.
He nodded over my shoulder to the giant. “Alright. Smoke her.”
Electric pain coursed through my shoulders, down my arms, and spread through my entire body. My knees buckled and the sidewalk slapped my face as I fell.
My limbs, muscles, and reflexes were instantly paralyzed. I couldn’t even blink.
Somehow, I hadn’t lost the ability to breath and concentrated on doing that.
Short man shuffled up behind me, reached down and grabbed my hair like a handle. He pulled my head back and shook it. “I told you not to run.”
Not being able to blink meant that I had a very clear view of what was about to occur.
From my vantage point, I saw the boots first.
They were Flick’s boots. I recognized them instantly.
Then I saw his hands clench into fists. Not only that, but they seemed to virtually vibrate with anticipation.
My kidnappers were about to have a very inconvenient encounter.
Short man looked up slowly, uttered a surprised noise, and dropped me.
I heard him shuffle backward. “Chosi, move this guy out of our way, will you?”
I couldn’t see the attack, but the shadows playing across the walkway, along with the sounds, told me everything important.
Chosi the giant rushed Flick with a bellow and almost instantaneously splatted on the ground to my left. His slack face told me he was unconscious, or dead, but I couldn’t determine which.
Short man shouted, “Wait, wait!”
The shadows told me Flick used his hands and concentrated on his opponent’s head. Three sickening thuds preceded short man sprawled on the ground to my right.
I was growing weary of their company.
Groaning was the only sound I could hear distinctly, and I helplessly anticipated what would happen next.
After a momentary pause, I heard light footsteps.
Flick knelt down beside me and shifted a lock of hair from my eyes. “Who are you, Keeley Dorn?”
It wasn’t so much a question but rather an expression of bemused curiosity.
If my lips had been in working order I might have tried to talk my way out of it. Regrettably, all I could do was notice with irritation that Flick scooped me up, lifted me in his arms easily, and walked to the nearest building without once faltering. He somehow managed to palm an outside entrance panel while holding me and walked up several flights of stairs as if he suffered a burden that was only mildly cumbersome. Once we reached the roof he set me down and used his hand to cushion my head instead of simply dropping it.
Very thoughtful.
He stood up and tapped the underside of his wrist.
“Locate and land.”
I heard his helicar speeding toward us from somewhere in the distance and as it descended to the roof Flick knelt quickly beside me.
“Sorry.” He used his thumb and forefinger to close my eyes.
Debris peppered my skin as the helicar landed, and it would have abraded my eyes as well, but for Flick’s consideration.
How much longer would this paralysis last?
When the engine of the helicar slowed after it landed on the rooftop, Flick removed his fingers from my eyes and went to open the hatch. He rummaged inside the cab. I heard the sound of ripping, and when he returned he placed two strips of what I assumed was medical tape over my eyelids to seal them shut. Then he lifted me up and set me in the passenger seat.
All I could do was speculate about his reasons for applying the tape. Perhaps he was showing compassion because losing the ability to blink could potentially cause damage to my vision, or he didn’t want me to know where we were going.
Or both.
Either way, I was literally, and figuratively, blind.
Somehow he managed to operate the controls while pressing his hand against my lifeless forehead to prevent my head from slumping forward.
He took off quickly, almost frantically, and I concentrated on the information I could get.
My face felt warm on the right side.
The sun was setting, and with the sun on my right, we were flying almost due south out of the city.
How many minutes had we been flying? So far, about six.
Where was he taking me?
“I’m not taking you into custody,” Flick said.
Just planning on shoving me out through the open hatch?
“And I’m not going to push you out, either.”
Although death would have been a quick way to put an end to a miserable day, as long as I could manage it, I preferred to live.
“It won’t do any good telling you this, but I’m taking you someplace safe.”
He was right. It didn’t do any good.
The minutes ticked by.
After approximately thirteen minutes of hard and fast flight, we started to slow down.
We landed hard, and the moment Flick opened the hatch I felt a sudden rush of humid air and smelled the familiar scent of jungle vegetation.
He carried me up a flight of steps, across what sounded like a stone walkway dotted with gravel, and up another shorter flight of steps, before turning sideways to maneuver me through a doorway of some kind.
The bed rocked back and forth as he laid me on it, indicating it was suspended from the ceiling, like a hammock, but with the firm base of a true bed.
What sort of place was this?
“You can take the tape off when you are able to move again. If I take it off now your eyes will only dry out.”
He positioned my limbs to allow for the need to keep blood circulating, and left me to sway on the hammock-bed while my body recovered.
Was I still in the city?
The room was open to the elements, based on the sounds and smells. There had to be a roof, which supported the swinging bed obviously, but birdsong, moving air, and sudden variations of temperature indicated a semi-outdoor environment.
Darkness fell. I knew this by the steady drop in temperature.
After a little more time passed I managed to move my lips.
Finally.
Once the paralysis started to wear off, my body thawed quickly. Soon I was able to move my arms, and my clumsy fingers fumbled with the tape on m
y eyelids as weak muscles struggled to obey my commands. A few eyelashes came off but that was a mild price to pay to see again.
My eyes adjusted to the dim interior light quickly, and I glanced around while the rest of my body gradually awakened.
The room appeared to be constructed of genuine wood, not fiberboard or plastene. High, thick beams of pale timber arched overhead, creating a round room open to the elements. Three wide windows nearly two meters high stood open to the outdoors and the bed swung lazily before them, providing an unobstructed view of the jungle. The glowing lamp beside the bed illuminated a forest of thick trees surrounding the structure, but there wasn’t a single light visible from anywhere in the distance.
I wasn’t remotely close to the city. Calling for help would be utterly pointless. No one would hear me.
I sensed the rest of the structure had multiple rooms behind the bedroom area, to the left and right, so it was relatively large.
The bed swayed slightly, but not unpleasantly as I turned my head. Thick white sheets and heavy cream-colored blankets cushioned my body, and for a moment I appreciated the appeal of the place.
It truly was picturesque.
When I managed to sit up I saw Flick seated in a carved wooden chair at the foot of the suspended bed, watching me.
“As I was saying, you were not an easy person to find, Keeley Dorn.”
He held out his palm, inviting a response, but I didn’t reply.
He folded his hands together and appraised me coolly. “My buddy Skee tells me about a lost refugee he saw out at the decommissioned NARPA training base. Asks if I can go get her.”
His tone had an edge.
I met his gaze and listened silently.
He leaned back in the chair and continued. “Sure, I tell him. Glad to do it. Then I go out there and see part of the loading dock is destroyed, blown up. That’s a little odd. But there you are, just like he said, and maybe it was an accident, a training exercise gone wrong and nothing to do with you, so I pick you up.”
He paused. “Funny thing, though. You don’t seem like a refugee to me. You don’t look like one or sound like one. And the more I’m thinking about it, the more bizarre the whole situation seems.”
The New Authority Conspiracy (The Keeley Dorn Adventures Book 1) Page 8
