Flee

by Francine Pascal

  Gaia nodded. Her face betrayed no emotion. She chewed loudly. But she was blinking, very rapidly. Hope flickered inside him. She was wrestling with pain and uncertainty and longing, too—and trying not to show it.The chess game had resumed.He still had a chance.

  “There’s something else,” Sam whispered.

  She swallowed. “What’s that?”

  “I’ve spoken with your uncle.”

  Her fork fell to the plate again. She looked like she’d been slapped. Her eyes flashed with disbelief. “Youwhat?” she hissed. “When did—”

  “He stopped by my dorm the other night,” Sam lied.

  “Why?” she spat.

  “He. . . he was reluctant to go see you himself. I mean, so soon after he’d asked you to come live with him.” Sam wanted to close his eyes and staple his own mouth shut.He wanted that invisible sniperto pull the trigger.But he simply repeated the words he’d rehearsed for Josh and the thug. His body had become a cassette player, a machine, an instrument to convey words that weren’t his. “I guess he figured that I would have a pretty good idea of the way you felt about things. I, uh, well—he didn’t exactly know that we’d broken up or anything. He just. . . he just wanted to get to know me. To get to know about your life, without having to bother you.”

  Gaia didn’t say a word. She didn’t move. There was a glint of something behind her eyes, but Sam couldn’t pinpoint it. Finally she took a deep breath.

  “What did he want, Sam?” she asked. “I mean, really. What did hewant?”

  Sam met her gaze. His soul was a cave—hollow, dark, and cold. “He didn’t want anything,” he said. “Not from me, anyway. What he wants is for you to live with him. Starting now.”

  Talking Toy

  GAIA’S SHOULDERS TENSED. SHE sat rigid as a nail. Of all the bizarre scenarios she’d envisioned for this evening—a screaming fight, a tearful embrace, a passionate kiss—she would never have conceived ofthis.She didn’t know whether to feel revulsion over the fact that Oliver had been sneaky and underhanded enough to try to get Sam on his side or excitement for the exact same reason. Maybe Oliver reallyhadgone to Sam because he wanted to keep his word about giving her time. Maybe his surprise visit to Sam had been about respecting her wishes. About respectingher,period.

  But then why did Sam look so shifty and uncertain? If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that he was terrified. His skin was bloodless and pale, and his handsshook like leavesin his lap. But what could he possibly have to fear—here,of all places?

  “Sam?” Gaia prompted softly. “Are you—?”

  “Let me finish.” He jerked suddenly, as if he’d fallen asleep and suddenly remembered where he was. His hands stopped shaking. He stared intensely into Gaia’s face. The look there was blank. Sam Moon was no longer present. At least not in any real sense. If the eyes were truly the windows of the soul, then Sam had just drawn the shades.He’d slipped back into actor mode.

  “Your uncle really loves you, Gaia,” Sam said. “And from what I could tell, it would be great for you to be with family again.”

  Gaia’s face shriveled in bewilderment. The words were stilted, tinny—totally unlike Sam. He sounded like he was reading from a poorly written script. He wasn’t just lying; he was reciting something he’dobviously prepared. But why? What purpose did this serve? Maybe he reallyhadgone insane.Or maybe this was a sick way of ending their relationship forever.A way of ensuring that they would never have to see each other again. After all, if she went with Oliver, she’d be leaving the country. Perhaps for a few months. Perhaps forever.

  “He’s got all sorts of plans—”

  “Sam!” Gaia interrupted hoarsely. Anger began to take hold. “Stop it, all right? Tell me what the hell is going on. Really. Say what’s on your mind. For once.”

  He blinked. “I am, Gaia,” he continued, his voice still as neutral and toneless as a talking toy’s. “It’s important that you get the love you’ve missed out on all these years. Your uncle seems to be the man for the job. Don’t you think so, Gaia?”

  The love I’ve missed out on. . . the man for the job. . . .

  An electric fizz began to hum inside her veins. The anger receded, replaced with a cool alertness. The words of a talking toy. Yes, that’s precisely what they were. The words of a puppet. This was a puppet show. Samwasreading a script. One that had been preparedforhim. The phrases he used, his mannerisms—they were totally alien. Somebody was forcing him to do this—

  “Don’t you think so, Gaia?” Sam repeated.

  His voice had shifted again.Gone was theneutrality. The tone was almost threatening.Gaia stared at him. Her pulse quickened.

  And that’s when she saw the shades part behind his eyes. Only for a split second. Barely time for anything to register. But it was enough. She caught a glimpse of something there. A silent message.

  I’m afraid. Help me.

  “You should have heard the things Oliver told me,” Sam went on. “He’s traveled all around the world, but he never. . . .”

  Gaia was no longer listening to his words. She forgot-her confusion, the purpose of the evening, the restaurant—all of it. He was trying to tell her something.What?She focused all of her energy on trying to decipher the secret of Sam’s eyes, which pleaded with her to understand that something was wrong.

  And that’s when it hit her.

  They were in danger.

  Sleek Black Shark

  LOKI RAISED THE INFRARED BINOCULARS to his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. There they were: two silhouettes outlined against the curtain of the Bubble Lounge.They were leaning close together. A sign of intimacy.A part of him seethed with rage, but he shut it off, as if it were a noisy appliance.Intimacy was required. Gaia trusted this boy. And in turn, that trust would be siphoned to Loki himself. One couldn’t dispose of emotion. One could only redirect it. He knew that from experience. He knew that from watching, as if from a distance, his love of Katia shift to this wondrous girl—this daughter he should have had.

  “Is the other car in position?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Josh replied, slowing.

  “Maintain your speed,” Loki barked.

  The Mercedes limo lurched forward again—a sleek black shark, rounding the block and returning slowly to circle once again. They needed to park soon. Loki didn’t want to attract any undue attention to himself. But he did want to watch. . . .

  “Has our little undergrad learned his script well?” Loki asked Josh.

  “Very,” Josh replied. “He knows what’s good for him. And he loves her. Everything has gone the way you said it would. I think he really believes that her moving in with you is the best thing for her.”

  Loki’s lips flattened. He sat back, reclining deep into the leather seat. “Of course he does,” Loki breathed. “Because it’s true.”

  Spelling It Out

  “. . . WHAT IT COMES DOWN TO, in the end, is that he wants to take care of you,” Sam finished. “He wants to provide for you.”

  Gaia didn’t seem to hear him. Which was good. Because his eyes screamed in contradiction to his words. At least he prayed they did. They held horror; they held warnings; they never moved. And she was starting to understand. He could see that. The time was coming to make his move.

  “I see,” she said blankly, after a few seconds of silence.

  A cloud of confusion flitted across her face. He shook his head, unable to control himself. Did she doubt him? Did she doubt his fear? Had he been lying for so long to her that she could no longer tell the difference between reality and the shield that protected it? No, he couldn’t let her take that route. He had to reach her. He wanted to shout at her. But couldn’t risk it.Oliver was listening; Oliver would end this conversation in the blink of an eye.Oh God.His breathing was shallow. He was starting to panic. Deep breaths. He wasn’t dead yet. He was still on the board. That was his mantra, his salvation.Still on the board.

  “Sounds like you had quite a conversation,” Gaia added.

/>   “Yeah.” Sam nodded. He twisted and glanced over his shoulder. His thighs were so sticky with sweat that they were practically glued to his seat. Nobody around him seemed suspicious-looking; in fact, no new customers had entered the restaurant. But that didn’t mean a damn thing.The gun sight could still be aimed at his head.Itwasaimed at his head.

  Still, they couldn’t see inside him. Or inside her. No one could eavesdrop on their silence, their private language. Sam just had to keep sending the message, boring his eyes into hers, beaming the truth from that part of him that Gaia still trusted: the Sam that would never lie. His hands trembled again.Their gazes had locked, suspended in a moment of total synchronicity.He had to hold on to it, to keep her there, to—

  And then he saw it. A needle flash of red light. Behind the curtain, from the street.

  Or had he just imagined it?

  “Sam?” Gaia whispered.

  That was all it took. He surrendered to panic. He wasn’t strong enough for this.

  “Gaia,” he whispered. He reached out and grasped her wrists so tightly, she flinched. “You have to get out of here. Right now.”

  No response. Nothing.The connection had been severed.His grip tightened on her flesh, digging into her bones. The seconds stretched into aeons.His stomach somersaulted as he glimpsed the shadows of two dark, massive cars slowing to a stop on the street outside.Shit.The second car was right out front. His eyes narrowed. It was close—close enough for Sam to make out the person at the wheel. Josh. Even behind the veil of the curtain, Sam would recognize that face anywhere.

  Gaia shook her head. “Sam, I need you to—”

  “Listen to me.” Sam loosened his grip on Gaia’s wrists, willing himself to stay seated, willing Gaia back to that plateau of synchronicity. “I want you to stand up and walk away, like you’re going to the rest room. Go out the back. Do it.”

  Hesitation registered in Gaia’s face, in the tiny ripple-on her forehead.

  Sam heard a door slam outside. He turned.

  Josh was out of the car.

  Sam sprang to his feet, grabbed Gaia’s hand, and pulled her away from the table. The waiting was over. It was time to run.

  Seething Jumble

  IT WAS LIKE BEING CAUGHT IN A dream—the kind of dream where nothing makes sense, where the rational laws that govern the universe cease toexist but you go through the motions of absurdity, anyway.Gaia surrendered to it.She allowed herself to be pulled by Sam—through a gaggle of yuppies near the bar, through some tables, then downstairs to the rest rooms. Her feet flopped awkwardly on the steps. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but her mind was a brick wall. Nothing could get in. Or out. “Shouldn’t have waited,” Sam mumbled breathlessly.

  But whether he was addressing her or himself, she had no clue.

  She stole a glance over her shoulder. At the top of the staircase was a bald man in a dark suit. And. . . was that Josh? Yeah. It was. Sam’s weird RA. Her eyes narrowed. He and the bald guy were looking around upstairs, as if they couldn’t decide whether or not to come down to the basement. What was Josh doing here? Was this just a coincidence? Why did he—

  “Come on,” Sam grunted, yanking her through a set of swinging double doors into the kitchen—past a bemused busboy, a sizzling stove, two surly-looking chefs. Sam’s hand was hot, damp. She clenched it in her own, matching his pace. There were flashes of aluminum, countertops, industrial refrigerators—and finally an exit.

  Wordlessly they broke apart and began to run. Their feet slapped the pavement in unison as they hurtled down an alleyway, past the restaurant garbagecans, toward an avenue. Gaia’s head was spinning like a top.She didn’t question the motivation behind this crazed sprit.She’d seen the fear on Sam’s face. Words from the past surged through her memory, snatches of conversation with Sam. In the park. On the phone.I can’t tell you what’s going on. . . . It’s not what you think. . . . Trust me, Gaia. . . .The words collided with images. The hunted look in his eyes. Josh’s mysterious appearance in Chinatown. The way Sam had pushed Gaia away from Josh. The hatred in his glare.

  The questions thudded louder than her heartbeat.Her thoughts were a seething jumble of mismatched pictures and Sam’s stilted excuses.

  What was the connection?

  Gaia’s lungs were burning by the time they reached end of the alley. She scanned the avenue, the cars and cabs whizzing past them.

  “You’ve got to get away,” Sam told her, his voice broken and ragged as he struggled for breath. His body was bent, hands on his knees to steady himself.

  “Tell me what’s going on, Sam,” Gaia begged. “What does Josh—”

  “Later.” He shook his head, cutting her off. Drops of sweat fell from his hair. His eyes were wide and skittish. “They’ll find us soon enough. He’s got men.”

  “Who does? Josh? Sam, you have to tell me what’sgoing on. I can’t do this anymore. Give me some answers.”

  “I will.” Sam steadied himself by placing his hands on Gaia’s shoulders. “But first I have to distract them. You have to get away from me, Gaia. They wantyou.You’re the one in danger.”

  Gaia’s chest felt tight as a drum. Sam’s voice was filled with desperation, knowledge, terror. Something had happened to him, something profound. It had changed him. It lay at the root of everything that had happened. She didn’t need to understand fear to feel it in Sam. “I’m not leaving you,” she heard herself say. “No way I leave without you.” Her voice broke on the last word.Tears clawed at her eyelids.Her mind still ran in loops, an endless fast-forward and rewind, scanning for answers. But her heart was in the here and now. With Sam. She was going nowhere without him. “Why don’t we just—”

  “No!”he shouted. He backed away from her. “I’ll find you. You have to do what I say. It’s the only way. You have to trust me now. You haven’t trusted me in a very long time. But trust me now.”

  Trust me now.There they were. Those words again. Regret and confusion mingled with her tears. Why had she ever stopped trusting Sam? He loved her. She loved him—

  Sam lunged forward and crushed her lips with his own.

  Gaia reciprocated.Nothing made sense—nothing but this: the most basic, physical,visceral connection.She felt like she’d swallowed an exploding star. Her arms tightened around his waist, her eyes closed, and then they were spinning together. Alone in the dark, just the two of them. This was all they’d ever needed to do. Ever. When they’d started spiraling away from each other. When the wobbly moments had tortured them.We should have just kissed.In their kisses there were no questions, no doubts, no distance. There was nothing except love.

  And then he pulled away from her.

  He sprinted down Hudson Street and vanished around a corner.

  He was gone.

  Gaia paused in the darkness.Sam.His name caught in her throat. She wanted to shout it, to ask him to turn around because suddenly seeing his face again seemed vitally important. But she didn’t. She stumbled in the opposite direction. She had to be strong. She had to listen to Sam, to vanish into the night before they found her. Whoever “they” were. Sam knew what was happening. Sam had the answers.

  Sam will find me,Gaia told herself as she hurried down the avenue.We’ll find each other. We always do.

  two dead stones

  Then came the pain. It suffused every crevice of his being, replacing strength with weakness.

  Still on the Board

  SAM HELD HIS BREATH, PEERING out from behind a brick wall until Gaia was gone from sight. Then he exhaled. The game of cat and mouse was over.Finally over.He felt an odd sense of relief. It was time to end the chase.

  But the relief quickly faded as he circled back toward the alley behind the Bubble Lounge. His feet were like stone. Every part of his body fought to resist, to chase after Gaia, to grab her hand and run until they couldn’t breathe anymore. It was pure, animal instinct: moving toward the enemy was wrong.Sam’s intellect was stronger than his instinct, though. Oliver and Josh woul
d get Gaia if he didn’t put himself in their way. He would stall them long enough for her to make an escape.

  You’re still on the board,he said to himself.You’re still on the board.

  He rounded the corner.

  Four shadowy figures loomed in the darkness by the kitchen door.

  Sam swallowed, marching purposefully toward them. One of them stepped forward. In the uncertain half-light Sam saw that it was Josh. There was a flash of silver in his hand.

  “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.