Flee

by Francine Pascal

  “What do you think you’re doing, Moon?” he demanded.

  Sam throat tightened. His eyes fell to the gun. The other figures emerged. One was the stocky man who had showed up at his suite with Josh; another was the burly guy who’d brought Sam his food in Oliver’s loft. Their faces blended together, indistinguishable. And finally there was Oliver himself, his eyes glittering like blue diamonds in the dark.

  “Yes,” Oliver whispered. “Do tell.”

  Calm. Stay calm.The muscles in Sam’s neck tensed. Time to put on the show of his life. To lie like he’d never lied, to act like he’d never acted.Gaia would be inspiration.He pictured her running through the streets, full of questions, full of doubts about her family, her boyfriend, the fragile world she’d worked so hard to keep from falling apart.

  “Nothing,” Sam said. “I was sitting there having dinner, and she got up and bolted. I chased after her, but she disappeared.”

  Oliver exchanged a quick glance with the three others. “Funny,” he said. “From our angle it looked like you were pulling her out of the restaurant.”

  Sam shrugged. He stared Josh in the eye with as much defensive calm as he could muster and for the first time saw him for who he truly was. Josh was nothing more than a puppet himself.A guy who’d played a role for too long.Many roles. Inthe shadow of Oliver he was the dutiful servant. In Sam’s presence he was the menacing false buddy. And who was he really? He probably didn’t know himself. After all, he’d been operating in this world for much longer than Sam, and Sam could barely rememberhisreal identity.

  “Did you say something to her?” Josh asked. He raised the pistol slightly.

  Again Sam shrugged. A hot smog filled his chest, clogging his lungs, threatening to suffocate him.

  “There’s a question pending,” Oliver stated.

  “We were having dinner,” Sam said. His throat was very dry. “I was telling her how much you wanted her back, and she just got up and bolted.”

  Oliver smiled.It was by far the most disturbing smile Sam had ever seen because there was absolutely no warmth behind it.His bird eyes were two dead stones.

  “You’re lying again, Sam,” he said.

  “No, I’m not.” Sam’s toes were curling in his shoes. His lashes fluttered rapidly. His knees had begun to tremble. The signs were all there: his body was reacting to the danger, irrespective of his mind. A jolt of adrenaline rattled his nerves. He wouldn’t be able to keep still much longer.

  “You’re telling me that Gaia ran away,” Oliver said.

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Sam’s heartbegan to slam into his rib cage then. Panic was speeding toward him like a train.Steady.

  “Gaia—she, well, she doesn’t trust me,” he stammered. “She smelled a rat as soon as I mentioned your name. She didn’t believe any of it. I tried to make her listen, but she got up and ran. I managed to follow her for a while, but you know Gaia. . . .” His voice faded. He didn’t have the breath to continue. His lungs were working too hard.

  “Yes,” Oliver said. “I do know Gaia. And I know what’s best for her.” He looked Sam in the eye. “I’ll ask you this once. Where did she go?”

  Sam shook his head. “I—uh, she didn’t say.” Unconsciously he took a step back. His joints and limbs were singing now, screaming in unison for him to turn and run.

  Oliver nodded. “Very well,” he said. His gaze briefly flashed to Josh. Then he turned and disappeared back into the kitchen. The other two thugs followed him. Only Josh remained. The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck rose. The silence stretched between them. Sam took another step back.

  “Well, Sammy, bro, it was nice working with you,” Josh said.

  That was all Sam needed. Without a second thought he whirled and sprinted toward the back of the alley. Something occurred to him then, too: in some ways he’d never felt more alive than he did at this moment.Fear, triumph, terror, love—a maelstrom of a thousand competing emotions rocked his brain as his body pushed itself to the limit,every muscle aching, every bone pounding.

  You helped Gaia,Sam told himself as his breathing deepened, his lungs straining for more oxygen. And nobody could ever take that away from him. Maybe Oliver or Sam would catch up to her sooner or later— but for now, for the present, she was safe. He’d achieved his mission. He’d salvaged something precious from a life that had become worthless: his own.

  That was when he heard it.

  It was nothing more than a light ping—almost lost in the sound of his scrambling, burning feet. At the same time something struck his back. A punch. Josh must have chased him and punched him. Only it burned.

  Sam didn’t fall, but he did stumble forward a couple-of steps. He couldn’t keep running.That punch had sucked the energy out of him.Reflexively his hand darted behind his back. There was wetness on his fingers.

  Then came the pain. It suffused every crevice of his being, replacing strength with weakness. He was confused suddenly. Disoriented. Time expanded like a loaf of bread in an oven, every moment stretching and stretching.

  He glanced down at his shirt.

  There was a dark splotch about the size and shape of a saucer, right next to his belly button. And there was a black hole in the center of it. He didn’t understand what was happening. He staggered, righted himself. The pain was bad, but he could go on. Was that Gaia on the avenue, waiting at the end of the alley? He couldn’t tell. And then suddenly he saw something else: the big house in Maryland, the front lawn buried in fall leaves.

  Where’s Sam? I can’t see him!

  His mother. Laughter. Then a different laugh. Lighter. Gaia’s laugh, spinning around a chessboard, a giant chessboard, as big as his house—the fall leaves above her head in the park, dropping onto the black and white squares. And sound. Wind? Yes, a whistling wind. . . only it was getting weaker and weaker.

  No. Keep breathing.

  He was aware that he had dropped to his knees,but he could no longer fight the tide that was dragging him out to sea, pulling him under the surface.The world around him began to dim. It shrank until it was gone. Only sound remained: the sound of his own lungs, the strain of his breath, the whoosh of the exhale.

  Gaia’s face floated before him, a disembodied testament to beauty.

  Sam smiled a crooked smile.Wait for me!But shenever did. She always had been so hard to keep. Didn’t matter. He would get to her. Somehow he would get to her. He was nearly there. He felt another punch through the middle of his back—although oddly enough, there was no pain. Only pressure. And blackness. Disconnected fragments: Sorry, Heather, I didn’t get a chance to phone you back. . . . Mike, don’t forget to meet me in the library. Where is my prescription? What time is it? How many heartbeats per minute? Cause of death? Gaia, wait up, I’m nearly there. I’m still on the board. . . .

  The last thought faded from his skull, and with it, the last frayed remnant of his life.

  Train Smash

  GAIA LEAPED INTO A DESERTED car of the uptown A express train the instant before the subway doors closed. Trembling, she gulped for air. The train pulled away from the station. She fell into a plastic seat, exhausted. Where was she going? Definitely not back to the Mosses. No way. She might have been followed, and she would never put them in danger. She probablyhadbeen followed. She needed to keep running, then rest; she needed to piece it all together. To plan ahead. But she couldn’t think. Notnow. Her body was too low on energy, her mind too filled with worry for Sam.

  The train rattled into the darkness of a tunnel.

  Gaia put her head in her hands. She felt sick for him, for what he’d gone through on her behalf. Because now it was all clear—if not in detail, then at least in shape.All the mystery, all the unexplained disappearances and strange behavior: Sam was being used. Someone had threatened him. To get to her.

  But who? Oliver? Wasthatwhy he’d come to see Sam?

  No. That was impossible. If Oliver wanted to see her, all he had to do was come knocking on her door. This had something
to do with Sam’s suite mate. Maybe with the kid who had died, too. Mike Suarez. At least, that would be the most likely scenario. . . .

  Gaia’s eyelids flickered as the stations flew past her. If she had learned anything from this madness, it was that anything could happen. No scenario was more likely than the next.The holes in the quilt were bigger than the quilt itself.But there was one crucial piece of information Gaia had gleaned from tonight’s nightmare: Sam had kept secrets from her not because he was trying to shut her out of his life, but because he was trying to protect her.

  That was all that mattered. Far more than the harsh words she’d said to him. Far more than theanger, the denial. He knew that. Besides, regret wasn’t of any use to anyone, least of all Sam and her. And experiencing it here in the subway tunnel somehow felt even more pathetically useless. She sniffed, forced back her tears. Sam would be fine. They would be fine. And one day they’d look back on this as a terribly dramatic hiccup. A setback. A bump in the road.But not a train smash.Nothing like that.

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat, then closed her eyes.

  Maybe if I wait for him at his dorm. . . .

  Her ears pricked up at the sound of the door at the end of the car swinging open. A blast of rushing subway wheels sliced through the silence of the empty car.

  The door swung shut.

  Footsteps approached. Two pairs. They stopped directly in front of her.

  Gaia’s eyelids opened. She found herself staring into a couple of familiar yet oddly unremarkable faces: the men who had attacked her in the park in January. Instantly her muscles tensed. Her nerves sprang to life.The jolt of energy was like an injection, hot and sickeningly sweet.But her face remained as blank as the two that stared back at her. As always, her mind drained of thought. Only five silent words remained.

  I will never be free.

  The men were carrying pistols. Their arms hung attheir sides; the silencers poked from the sleeves of their leather jackets.

  “You’ll be getting off with us at the next station,” the one on the right stated. His tone wasn’t threatening. In fact, it was almost polite.

  The train began to slow.

  The words melted away until no thoughts remained at all.There was only formless rage.Gaia lashed out with her left foot, surprising herself with the force of the kick. Her toe connected with the left man’s groin: smack!He doubled over, cringing. With her left hand she snatched the pistol from his grasp by the silencer—simultaneously exploding out of her seat. Her right knee caught the man on the right in the solar plexus, and she whirled around, smashing the butt of the gun over his head.

  He collapsed to the floor.

  The train brakes screeched. Gaia stumbled backward.Balance!she furiously commanded herself.

  The man on the left clutched at his groin, but he was still standing. Gaia shifted the gun to her right hand and cracked the bloodied gun butt against his left temple. His knees wobbled, but he didn’t go down. As she staggered slightly, her eyes flashed to the first man. He was struggling to aim his gun at her. His eyes were unsteady. She didn’t hesitate. She aimed at his left kneecap and fired. The sound of impact was much louder than the softthwipof the shot.A froth ofblood and bone shrapnel exploded from the joint—and the man shrieked.Amazingly, though, he didn’t drop the gun.

  Gaia turned her attention to the man on the left just as the train lurched to a halt. Their eyes met. She raised the gun, again aiming for the kneecap. But before she could pull the trigger, the man whirled and bolted for the doors—leaping off the train the moment they slid open, one hand still cupped over his crotch. He vanished into the station.

  Luckily the platform was deserted. Gaia couldn’t afford to be spotted standing over a man she had just shot. But nobody boarded her car. For a second there was a perfect silence. It was shattered by the piercing two-tone chime that signaled departure. The doors slid shut just as Gaia took aim at the man one more time—this time at his forehead.

  “Who do you work for?” she hissed. Her heart pounded. She felt dizzy. She knew she was going to pass out soon. It was only a matter of time.

  The man didn’t answer. His own gun was pointed straight at her heart.

  “Answer me!” she shouted.

  He blinked. His gun wavered.

  Without warning, he shoved the barrel against his temple and fired.

  “No!” Gaia shouted.

  Too late.His head fell back against the floor,his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, the same blank expression on his lifeless face. Blood seeped from a small, neat round hole in his head. Gaia swallowed. The train sped into darkness.This man would rather die than answer her question.Which meant only one thing, of course: he feared his employer more than he feared death.

  Using the hem of her dress, Gaia furiously wiped her own gun clean, then dropped it on top of his body. Then she turned and ran. She ran from car to car, never once stopping or looking back. She ran until the train reached the next station, then jumped off and transferred to another line. She didn’t even know which line it was. Nor did she particularly care. Because by that point, the weakness and exhaustion she’d manage to ignore for those final seconds had grown into a mammoth cloud that enveloped her completely, shutting out everything else in the world.

  Disappeared

  NEITHER GEORGE NOR TOM HAD SPOKEN a word since George had met Tom at the British Airways passenger terminal at JFK,then sped off into the night. There was nothing to say. The two of them sat in silence as George pulled his car onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Tom fidgeted, unable to keep still. Luckily his flight had landed a few minutes ahead of schedule. It wasn’t even midnight—

  Bee-bee-bee-beep.

  George’s cell phone. He reached into his windbreaker pocket, keeping one hand on the wheel, then flicked it open.

  “Yes?” he said.

  Tom stared at him.

  George scowled. He flicked the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket. “They lost her.”

  “What?” Tom cried.“How—”

  “I don’t know,” George muttered. His eyes were very dark as he scanned the road. The Manhattan Bridge loomed ahead of them. “Her tail followed her from the Moss apartment. He caught the One train and saw her get off at Franklin. He followed her out of the subway car, but—”

  “But what?” Tom demanded.

  George shook his head in annoyed disbelief, the skin on his gaunt face seeming to tighten. “Once he got out into the street, he somehow managed to follow the wrong girl.”

  Tom couldn’t even respond. He’d gone numb. Of all the incompetence, of all the stupidity. . . butno, he couldn’t let anger affect him right now. He stared gloomily out at the city, shimmering across the East River. Arguably the greatest skyline in the world. A million pinpricks of light, mountains of concrete and glass all reaching up to the heavens in a great gesture of greed and ambition and hubris—a Tower of Babel. Yes, this skyline signified only doom right now. Because somewhere in that urban jungle was his daughter. This was a city that could swallow a person whole and never spit them out.

  There was another ring. The car phone this time. George jabbed a button next to the gearshift.

  “Yes?”

  “They’re canvassing the entire Tribeca area, sir,” an unrecognizable voice announced over the speaker. “The Agency put an extra task force on it. She cannot have simply disappeared.”

  “I know,” George stated. “I’ve already gotten that information—”

  “There’s something else, sir.”

  Tom swallowed. He turned to George. George’s eyes remained fixed to the road.

  “Yes?” George said.

  “Sam Moon’s body has been found. Two bullets in the back. An alleyway in Tribeca.”

  Tom’s jaw dropped. He felt a prickling of dread in his stomach.

  “How long?” George asked, his voice quavering.

  “Body’s still warm. Maybe two, three hours.”

  George gunned the engine.
Tom knew that they didn’t need to discuss this, either. The news spoke for itself: either Gaia had been captured or she’d managed to escape.

  And either way, they’d lost her.

  GAIA

  There’s only one feeling worse than loneliness: guilt.

  If you feel it strongly enough, it can smother you. And right now I’m having a hard time coming up for air. Because all I can think about is Sam. How I let my own blindness and selfinvolvement cloud my perception. My dad trained me pretty well, but not well enough. Otherwise I would have picked up something. I would have figured out that Sam was in deep trouble. That he was trying to save me. Protect me. And that he’d watched himself turn into a monster in the process.

  It’s my fault.

  I wish he’d told me something. But he must have had a very good reason to keep silent. I still don’t even know how it all happened. Or what happened. I have a few clues, a shitload of gaps, and a very strong feeling that I will find out the answers to all of this soon enough. They saylove means never having to say you’re sorry. That’s a lie, though. In my experience, love is all about being sorry. And I’m sorry, Sam. I loved you once. A part of me still loves you now and always will. I wish I could tell you that face-to-face, but it will have to wait until we see each other again.

  For now, I have to lie low. And that means leaving everyone and everything behind. No friends, no loved ones, nothing.

  Strange. It feels a little like déjà vu.

  here is a sneak peek of Fearless™ #18: LOVE

  GAIA

  I’ve realized that I can sum up my entire life with the statement of two very simple facts. And when presented together, they are so ironically juxtaposed that they are either sickening or hysterical. They are proof positive— as if proof were needed—that my life is nothing more than somebody’s cruel joke.