“Yeah, well, that’s our little secret.”
“How about we break out those sandwiches you acquired from the kitchen.”
We sat on the beach enjoying our impromptu picnic and each other’s company. There wasn’t much to say, which spoke volumes for our newfound friendship. Being with each other and enjoying the company that only another person of our kind provided was enough conversation for the both of us. We were true partners. Blake and I were the only two people in the world who could possibly understand what the other was going through.
“Come on.” I stood up, grabbing Blake’s hand.
“What?”
“Are we just going to sit here all day? We’re at the beach, let’s take advantage of it.”
“I thought we were.”
“Oh, geez, Blake. Live a little.”
I tugged at his arms harder, pulling him swiftly to his feet much to the amazement of the other beachgoers around us.
“You need to be a little more discreet, you know,” he muttered.
“Wow, who says white guys can’t jump,” I replied with a wink.
He rolled his eyes. “Great cover.”
“I thought so, too.”
We walked to the shoreline where I ran up to my calves in the ocean; the waves splashed droplets of water that quickly soaked my jeans. I looked up at Blake to see that he was watching me with an amused grin. Taking my foot, I splashed him with more water than I meant to, soaking the front of his pants.
“Oh, really,” he replied playfully. “You’ve just started something here that I don’t think you’re going to be able to finish.”
“Bring it.”
Accepting my challenge, he kicked his shoes off and raised his leg as though he was readying himself to splash me, but instead of kicking water, he barreled at me, knocking me off my feet and into the waves. Before I could fall completely over, I grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him into the depths of the ocean with me. When I surfaced, I sat up in the water. Blake was sprawled on my lap, laughing.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” he stuttered, removing himself from my lap.
“Why? Do you think I’ve never had a man in my lap before?” I splashed him once more before standing back up to head to our spot in the sand. “I needed this,” I told him when we were seated back on our blankets. “I just wish I had extra clothes to change into.”
“You’ll air dry just fine,” he said with a laugh.
Looking around the beach, I noticed a group of people staring in our direction intently as if they were studying us for signs of recognition. “Do you know those people?” I asked.
“What people?”
I nodded in the direction of the gawkers. “The ones over there that keep looking over here as though they’re getting ready to walk over here at any minute to introduce themselves.”
Blake glanced at the group out of the corner of his eye. “No, I can’t say that I do.”
“It’s strange how they keep looking over here and talking amongst themselves.”
“They probably just think they recognize one of us. I wouldn’t worry about it unless they actually do come over here.” He ran his fingers through his hair, which caused water droplets to free themselves and run down his back. “I’m thirsty. Do you want anything?”
“An iced tea would be great right now. If you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem.” He stood up to venture to the concession stand a short distance from where we sat.
I knew that I shouldn’t concern myself with the people who still kept looking over in my direction even after Blake had left, but there was just something about the way they were looking at me that made me wonder. It wasn’t a look of curiosity anymore, but a look of fear.
****
It had been a while since he’d had as much fun as he’d had today. It had been a while since he felt so alive, or that he actually wanted to be alive for that matter.
“One iced tea and one water, please,” he placed his order at the concession stand, still sopping wet from the ocean. His t-shirt, skin tight from the water, clung onto his biceps, which generated stares of admiration from the women who passed by him while he waited for their drinks. Strangely, he didn’t notice any of them. There was only one woman he’d noticed this day and only one woman he cared notice him.
“That will be $2.75.”
Blake handed the concessionaire the money and took the drinks. On his way back, something posted on a light pole caught his eye, causing him to do a double take.
“Oh, crap!” he exclaimed.
On the light pole was the same beautiful, vibrant woman he’d spent the last few weeks training as his partner. Dropping the drinks on the sand encrusted pavement, he ripped the flyer down from the pole, balled it up, and threw it onto the ground.
Looking back in Celaine’s direction, he noticed that one of the members of the group of people who were staring intently at her was cautiously making his way over to her. Hurriedly, he sped towards her, making it just in time.
“We’ve got to go, now!” he demanded.
“What? Why?
“They need us back at the Epicenter.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Rooftop
A month had passed since my arrival at the Epicenter and, for the most part, I seemed to be getting the hang of things. The initial shock of having been thrust face-to-face with the virtual Man in Black had worn off, enabling me to focus on my training in the simulator. And like any overzealous coach, Blake kept me firmly entrenched in an arduous conditioning schedule. From dusk until dawn, I learned to evade, block, and master my newfound abilities.
Over time, I began getting the best of Blake—much to the amusement of Cameron and the crowd of Epicenter inhabitants who’d taken to gathering at the gym, throwing heckles from the sidelines whenever I managed to one-up my teacher. Strangely, though, Blake didn’t seem to mind. We were becoming as one in our movements, as one in our attacks. In the simulator, we attacked in sync, bringing down our targets in virtual choreographed perfection.
Since our day at the beach, we’d become closer, developing a friendship I wouldn‘t have thought possible only a month prior. During our sleepless nights, Blake regaled me with tales of his heroics during his former life as a firefighter. I, in turn, confided in him about my family’s death; my own near-fatal encounter with The Man in Black; my subsequent move to Iowa; and my life with Chase. We’d both sustained losses that had changed our lives irrevocably, breaking us in half, bonding us together. If misery truly loved company, then our partnership was the picture of perfection.
****
“You’re one tough broad,” Blake turned to me in the sitting room one night after everyone had gone to bed.
“Yeah, I’m a regular Wonder Woman,” I laughed. A cheesy romantic comedy I’d seen at least a dozen times emanated from the screen. It had only been on for twenty minutes, but to Blake, those few minutes might as well have been an eternity; a fact made evident by the grimace etched upon his face. His silent protest entertained me more than the movie itself.
“No, really,” he continued. “With all you’ve been through, and you’ve managed to completely take care of yourself and pick up your life. You’re strong, Celaine. Most people would have waved the white flag of defeat. You’ve met life head-on, accepting the cards that fate dealt you. I admire that.”
“Thanks, Blake,” I smiled. “That means a lot.” Gabbing the remote, I switched the channel from Hugh Grant to Vin Diesel. “I think you’ve been punished enough for tonight,” I laughed.
****
When we weren’t training, Blake managed to keep me exceedingly busy in a vain attempt at keeping my mind off Chase. During the day, it worked fairly well, but it was a different story at night. The darkness of a still Epicenter night had a funny way of shedding light on those thoughts I chose to keep locked away. When I did manage to sleep, I dreamt of nothing but Chase. The dreams were vivid. I could feel every strand of his hair on my
face, the warmth of his breath upon my neck, taking me back to a time I’d never again relive. The next morning, I’d awake depressed, and no matter how hard I fought it, its impact wore heavy on me.
My depression was becoming so obvious that I was sent down to Dr. Lin’s office more than once for an evaluation of my emotional state. Our sessions usually ended with me spilling my guts like a sinner in a confessional while Dr. Lin sat in her leather desk chair, scribbling some notes on a pad with the occasional holy crap look on her face. At the end of our sessions, she gave me more pills in the hopes that I would be too drugged-up to think of much of anything other than what Victor wanted me to. I’d flushed a multitude of prescription pills of various colors and sizes down the toilet. Not because I had anything against pacifying my emotional instability, but simply because my emotions were the only thing I had left tying me to my former life.
Dr. Lin cautioned against me venturing out of The Epicenter before I was completely emotionally ready, but I couldn’t take it any longer. He was beckoning me like a beacon in the night, leading me away from the dark uncertainties ahead. There was no way I could stay away any longer. For the last couple of weeks, besides training with Blake, I’d enlisted his expertise in learning how to operate a motorcycle. Apparently, my learning to ride a motorcycle was considered entertainment in his eyes, though I didn’t care if he laughed at me. If all my spills, bruises, and humiliation lead me to him, it would all be worth it in the end.
“Why don’t you just take one of the cars?” Blake asked me after I’d dumped the cycle for about the tenth time.
“You and your mad cycle skills got me hooked the night you brought me here. That and I think I’d look pretty badass on one.” Blake had a smirk on his face that I knew meant he had something he was keeping bottled up inside. “Go ahead, say it. You know you want to.”
He instantly turned into a kid at Christmas. “You just want to feel all that power between your legs.”
My resulting blush added to his enthusiasm. “Cameron must be rubbing off on you.” That comment didn’t set well with him.
Over two weeks I’d finally mastered, as well as I could, the basic principles of motorcycle operation, including how much twist to give to the throttle for the perfect acceleration; braking smoothly without locking up the wheels; disengaging the clutch before shifting; and turning without ending up with a massive amount of hot metal on top of me.
“Remember,” Blake said after he deemed me road ready for cycle operation, “wait until nightfall and ditch the bike in a safe location at least a couple of blocks from your intended destination.” There was hint of concern in his voice like he wanted to tell me to stay put, to not venture off, but he knew that such advice would be a waste of time and only go unheeded. “Keep the pager and the cell phone on you at all times in case you’re needed back here.”
I nodded at Blake. There was a giddiness coursing through my body that I was trying to keep suppressed as I secured the helmet on my head. The motorcycle started with a thundering vroom, causing a wide grin to spread across my face. With a wave goodbye, I took off towards the tunnel leading to my freedom. Just before entering the tunnel, I stole one last look behind me, noticing that Blake was still standing there staring back at me, a dejected look reflected on his face.
The feeling of the open road, the asphalt against my tires, was positively exhilarating. Whatever inconsequential reason I had for shying away from motorcycles in the past now eluded me. The cycle was equipped with a GPS. Directions sounded over a speaker built into my riding helmet. It was a godsend considering I had absolutely no idea whether or not I would be able to locate the entrance to The Epicenter amid the maze of pine trees without it.
About thirty minutes into my joy ride, the surroundings whizzing by me started appearing more and more familiar until, finally, the cityscape appeared in my field of vision like a glorious panoramic picture. I always loved overlooking the city at night, admiring the few remaining lights that still adorned the skyline like multi-colored stars.
Within minutes I rode into the city limits. The lump forming in my throat confirmed it all the more. In response, I rubbed my throat to counteract the tightness, but just as soon as that problem was resolved, I had a whole new one to contend with. Butterflies migrated back into my stomach and my nerves took hold. I hadn’t felt like this since the day I first met Chase. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder what Chase’s feelings toward me were now. Did he think of me? How much? Was there still love for me or just nothing more than well-deserved hatred?
In an alleyway, five blocks from his apartment, I ditched the motorcycle in the same fashion Blake had done the night he’d whisked me away. Finding large chunks of cardboard and garbage to act as makeshift camouflage, I expertly concealed the bike. Knowing that I simply couldn’t just walk down the street like any normal human being for several reasons, I surveyed my surroundings for a different means of arriving at my desired destination.
I located a fire escape ten feet above my head. Leaping onto the landing, I began my quick ascent up the stairs, tackling multiple steps at a time. At the last landing, I took one last flying leap onto the rooftop. While running up fifteen flights of stairs would take the wind out of most average people, it only served to invigorate me more from the sheer excitement of seeing Chase again. In a flash, I darted across the rooftop, springing from its ledge to the roof of the adjoining building. It resembled a scene from almost every action movie I’d ever seen, making me feel like a bona fide action hero.
I sprang across three more rooftops before arriving at St. Helen’s dance studio where the uber-coordinated conjugated to flail their limbs from here to there. Dancing was a sore subject to me. When I was a little girl, Carol constantly pushed me to take it. I’m pretty sure it was more for the frilly dresses—which I refused to wear and of which she was desperate to photograph me in—than the actual dancing itself. After a couple of months of downright begging and bribery, Carol had worn me so far down that I relented to taking the class just to make her shut up. Needless to say, it was every bit as traumatizing as I’d imagined it would be. I was a tall, pink, frilly train wreck.
Regardless of that, I had to appreciate the irony that I was, at this moment, positively beaming at the thought of having arrived at the very building I’d once loathed and vowed never to return to. The rooftop was close to being level with the tenth floor of Chase’s apartment building across the street. Counting over five windows, I located the one belonging to Chase’s bedroom. It was all too surreal to be staring at the darkened window of his bedroom. I was on the outside looking in. Although it’d only been a little over a month since I’d last been there, it felt more like a lifetime. Now, the waiting game began.
I crouched down near the ledge, making sure I stayed undetected in the shadows. Chase’s schedule at the hospital fluctuated, ensuring that I would never fully be sure when and what shift he would be working. When we were a couple, that fact alone had made events such as date nights and vacations nearly impossible to plan. Tonight, I was relying on the hope that he was working second shift, which would make him due home any minute now. Regardless of when he appeared, now that I was here, the thought of being this close to him without actually getting to see him was inconceivable. So I vowed to wait until I got what I came here for. And I didn’t have to wait long.
Just minutes into my stake-out, I was rewarded with the sight I’d longed to see in my first month of captivity. Light appeared in Chase’s bedroom, drawing my eyes into its glow. There he was, arriving home from work just as I hoped he would be. He was in his scrubs which he hated with a passion, and he must have had no clothes in his locker to change into after his shift. As if not being able to take them touching his skin anymore, in a flash, he pulled the blue scrub shirt over his head. Rummaging through his dresser, he then pulled out a white undershirt to replace it.
A familiar, moist burning sensation formed in my eyes. I turned my head, taking in a few deep breaths to
counteract the tears streaming down my face. Seconds later, a high pitched squeal diverted my attention back to the bedroom window. To my surprise, he’d opened his window and was leaning out of it, eyes closed, drinking in the night air. At that moment, it took all I had not to reach out to him, to let him know I was here with him, and that he wasn’t alone.
He opened his eyes, glancing in my direction. For a moment, our eyes seem to lock, enabling me to feel reconnected with him as though I’d never left. From my vantage point in the shadows, I knew there was no way he could see me. A smile spread slowly across my face. Anymore, smiles were like a reflex that could only be triggered by Chase’s presence.
The wind whipped through his hair as he leaned out of the window, continuing his gaze off into space, until his glance was diverted upwards towards the sky where it seemed stuck as though being pulled by some unseen force. With the skilled hands of a surgeon, he gracefully lifted a finger up toward the night sky, moving it around as if tracing an invisible path. Confused, I looked up to steal a glimpse of what had captured his undivided attention. The sky was crystal clear, revealing an ocean of stars, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen so many of them in a non-artificial setting. It was an utterly breathtaking sight to behold. My eyes then followed the imaginary path Chase had drawn, leading me to The Big Dipper.
While lying together on my rooftop, we would often trace the different constellations with our fingers, drawing pictures of what we thought we saw. I pointed my finger up towards the sky, tracing the Big Dipper until I reached our star at the end of its handle, the tears running down my face like a raging river. Chase still loved me. Now I was sure of it. Sure, there may be some resentment and anger sprinkled into that love, but there was still love present nonetheless.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Screw the rules. After all, they were made to be broken. Slowly, I raised myself up, starting to walk towards a beam of light coming from a light source that originated from a light post on top of the dance studio’s rooftop stairwell. My body was shaking as I contemplated what I would say to him, what he would say to me. My boots clanked softly on the concrete roof closer and closer to the light when, mere feet away from the beam, I felt a vibration coming from the holster on my utility belt. For a moment I stood perplexed, unsure as to what was causing the strange sensation, then I remembered the pager. Why now? Why on my first night away must something go wrong? Tugging at the holster, I freed the pager, nearly dropping it before regaining my composure long enough to read the message it displayed:
Enigma Black Page 22
