Moonbow

by Sheila Hollinghead

  She endured another kick to her ribs. Hadn’t Rayden told her that these people wouldn’t hurt her, that they wanted the baby born unharmed?

  She gasped for breath like a fish flailing on the shore. “Why are you kicking me?”

  “Mrs. Jackson, your real name is Adalgisa Ostheim, correct? You are German?" This was the other man's voice, the older man with the gray hair, she was sure. His voice was devoid of emotion.

  “That’s my maiden name,” she managed to say. “I’m an American, born in Cullman, Alabama.”

  "You’re German.”

  "I'm an American. My ancestors are from Germany."

  “Cullman’s a German city.” It was a flat statement as if he were simply stating a fact.

  She curled into a tighter ball waiting for the kick that didn’t come. “Cullman was founded by Germans, but I was raised outside of Cullman, a small community called Hoffnung."

  "Yes, we know. Definitely German."

  "Where are you taking me?”

  “Shut up.” This was the gray-haired man speaking.

  Stars exploded in her head as a heavy blow fell. Gisa lay still, trying not to whimper. The pain coursed through every part of her body.

  "Be careful. We don't want her...damaged." This was a different voice, from a different location. She supposed it was the driver.

  She heard the clicking of fingers.

  "What did Dr. Brooks say again?"

  "Esther and key...chip?" This voice was slurred; Ralph Stone's she assumed.

  "Nah. Key..."

  Gisa sucked in her breath. Yes, she had heard Rayden correctly. But why had he called out "Esther" and "keshet"? Why would he have said the Hebrew word for bow and the name Esther? She really didn't know who Esther was—maybe some made-up person from the Bible.

  Hands jerked her to a sitting position. She tried to think despite the throbbing of her head. The black hood was again suffocating, and she had to fight the panic rising to the surface. She tried to focus on the words being spoken.

  "Miss Ostheim, you know what he said. Why did he call you Esther? Was that an alias you're using?" The man with the flat voice was speaking. "It will be in your best interest to tell us."

  "It wasn't an alias." She shook her head. "I swear I don't know why he said it." She gasped short breaths, the pain in her side making it difficult to breathe.

  The two voices whispered for a moment. "All right," Ralph said. "We'll believe you. Don't want to get off on the wrong foot, now do we?"

  Both men laughed, and again they whispered together.

  Gisa slumped back down and rolled over in an effort to relieve the throbbing from the blows. The cold metal from the uncarpeted floor of the van only increased her discomfort. She focused her thoughts, desperately trying to ignore the pain.

  They had been fixated on Germany. And Die Auserwählten was a German name. Her own ancestors were German. And now they said Hoffnung was a German settlement. Of course it was a German name, but it was filled with people of all nationalities—not just Germans. They had to be wrong. But...what if they weren't? What if the Germans had founded it here in America to further the plans of...who else but the Nazis? And, if that was true...the clone, it couldn't be... Hitler? It was ludicrous. Why would anyone do that?

  How would they even get Hitler’s DNA? Wasn’t he burned in a bunker? Wait...didn’t she see or hear something about the body not being Hitler—that it was actually a female’s skull? So, it was possible he had survived his apparent suicide. Suddenly The Boys from Brazil didn't seem so farfetched. Was she carrying Hitler? No, it wouldn’t be Hitler, even if it was his DNA. His environment had made him who he was. Still, his genetics had made him evil, hadn't it?

  No one was born evil, Rayden had said. Didn't she believe that—babies were not born evil? But would that apply to Hitler, one of the most evil men to ever exist? Surely, he was an exception to what Rayden had said. She shuddered to think she carried such a monster inside her.

  She quit trying to make sense of it all and let her mind go blank, breathing deeply to ease her excruciating pain, trying to find comfort where none was to be found, on the cold hard floor of the van.

  SLOWLY RAYDEN OPENED his eyes, winced, and squinted against the dim yet unnaturally bright light His slowly focusing gaze swept the room. A hospital—intensive care, from the look of things. Monitors beeped, and the smell of disinfectant drifted to him. His vision blurred, and he closed his eyes again.

  How long had he been unconscious? He reached up to touch his head and felt bandages. Hours? Days? Gisa...where was she? Had the police stopped the kidnapping? Or, had they abetted it?

  He tried to sit up, but his muscles would not cooperate. His left leg and his right arm also sported bandages. Had he been shot more than once? Hadn't Josh told him that? It was all so hazy.

  A nurse, all business, came in and adjusted the IV. She did not speak or look directly at him.

  "Gisa..." was all he could manage. The nurse placed a hand on his arm and spoke a few words that he failed to grasp. He yielded to the drugs.

  The next time he awoke, a doctor was at his bedside. Rayden blinked although the light was still dim. He squinted up at the man beside him.

  The doctor spoke. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

  Rayden's vision doubled, and he closed his eyes. “Okay.” Besides the headache and the searing pain in his arm and leg. Besides being too weak to sit up.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Ja... James Hudson.” Rayden's mouth was parched, and his voice came out as a croak.

  “Funny. You look like Rayden Brooks to me.” There was a hint of laughter in the words.

  Rayden opened his eyes and tried to focus. “Josh? Josh Johnson?”

  The two faces separated and recombined, grinning at him. “That’s me. You remember seeing me at the clinic?”

  Rayden reached out a hand. “Yes...after I was shot." He looked into his friend's face. "Help me. The girl...she was kidnapped.”

  Josh nodded his head, his friendly, open face clouding over. "I know. At the clinic. The police are on it."

  "I've got to find her. Help me." He was able to grasp the sleeve of Josh's lab coat.

  “That’s what they’re doing buddy. You’re going to be all right. Luckily that headshot just grazed you. Hit the skull but didn’t penetrate. Just a nasty concussion.” Josh placed both hands on Rayden's, giving a pat.

  Rayden released the sleeve and let his hand fall. “I’ve got to get out.”

  Confusion filled his friend's warm brown eyes. “Get out?”

  The few words spoken had spent all of Rayden’s energy. He closed his eyes and rallied his strength before opening them to focus on Josh again. “I've got to find...her.”

  “The police are on it, and there’s a policeman outside the door, ready to question you as soon as your doctor okays it. Something about a murder investigation?”

  Rayden’s heart beat faster, causing the throbbing of his head to increase to a drumbeat. He caught Josh's look and held it. “I'm in trouble. I need help.” He tried to sit, but Josh pushed him back down, his face filled with pity.

  “Rayden, I don’t want to have to call the nurse to restrain you.”

  “Help me, please.” He reached out again to grab Josh's wrist.

  Josh loosened Rayden's grip and surveyed him doubtfully. “You’re in no condition to move. You have a serious concussion. Not to mention two other bullet holes in you. Sorry, bud. I had to sneak in myself. The policeman thought I was one of your doctors. Good thing I have privileges at this hospital, or I wouldn't be here talking to you.”

  "Please?" he managed to choke out.

  Josh shrugged. "What can I do? Sorry."

  Rayden gave up and turned away, throwing his free arm over his eyes.

  He felt Josh squeeze his shoulder, and he rolled back to face him but didn't speak.

  Josh cleared his throat. "Ray, I can see you getting caught up in some cause to..." Here Josh
made quote marks in the air. "...save the world, but I know you didn't kill anyone. Not sure what's going on. Wish I could help, but I'm not sure how."

  There was silence for a moment. Josh opened his mouth as if to speak but then closed it. Rayden rolled away again and squeezed his eyes shut.

  He heard the door open and close and knew he was alone. There was nothing left—no way out.

  Nausea, pain, and hopelessness washed over him.

  * * *

  Gisa

  When the van finally stopped, Gisa had lost track of time. It had felt like hours. But tied up and unable to see had disoriented her, she was sure. She had become increasingly nauseated from the rocking of the van and the lack of fresh air.

  "Time to wake up," the older of the two men said.

  The hood was yanked roughly from her head. She blew the flyaway hair from her face and blinked. She saw through the van windows that night had fallen. The restraints were removed from her arms and legs, and she reached to rub away some of the pain. Ralph, beside her in the dark, jerked her closer to him and gagged her. Only when the gag was tightly in place did the van door open, but no light came on inside. The driver, whose face she could not see in the shadows, stood nearby. The parking lot was empty and dark. Although street lamps lined the area, not one of them shone.

  One of the men had a small flashlight that he switched on. In the dim light, she made out two of her captors, Ralph with his light brown hair and an older man in dark clothing. His salt and pepper hair was shortly cropped. The driver became briefly visible when he lit a cigarette.

  Her legs felt like jelly and threatened to collapse beneath her. The older man grasped her by the elbow to steady her. Gisa looked around, searching for someone, anyone, to help her, but saw no one.

  Dense trees towered beyond the parking lot, casting even darker shadows along the edges. As Ralph shoved her forward, she listened intently but heard no sounds other than the chirping of crickets. The middle of nowhere.

  And yet the dark-glass enclosed building in front of them belied that. It rose majestically, disappearing into the dark night sky.

  A covered walkway led to an automatic sliding door, also with dark glass. It opened with an eerily, almost silent woosh. Gisa glanced behind her. The driver had stayed behind, concealed in the darkness.

  They entered the building. The foyer had light from above, an elaborate chandelier, but the lights were dimmed. The building appeared empty and draped in shadows. Gisa made out the shapes of furniture, but all was grayness—no color or detail. They continued down an empty hall with only a light at the far end. As they approached the light, the walls took on more shape and color. They were a sage green, textured with some type of floral design. The thick, soft carpet, a darker moss green, absorbed the sounds of their footsteps.

  An antiseptic smell hung in the air. The building seemed to be a hospital or some type of medical building, although more elaborate than any she had ever seen.

  And one with silent staff and patients. She shuddered. The quiet was deafening. Gisa's blood roared in her ears. Even her captors didn't make a sound, keeping their motions subdued.

  At the end of the hall, the men each grasped one of her arms and half-carried her through thick, swinging double doors into what looked like a surgical wing.

  A hospital bed stood against the wall. A man sat in a plush emerald green chair beside it, reading a book by the light from a tableside lamp. The man was short—if he stood, he probably would barely reach Gisa’s shoulder. And he was brown, a caramel brown, similar to Ralph's coloring. His hair was also a light brown, but cropped short, with matching golden brown eyes. A well-groomed brown beard flowed down his chest. His white teeth gleamed, providing the only contrast. Gisa sought to repress a shudder. The man was dressed in green khakis and matching shirt, almost like a uniform.

  He carefully placed a marker in his book before closing it but did not rise.

  “Oberste, your gift.”

  GISA’S EYES WIDENED. She kept her gaze riveted on Oberste. The gray-haired man spoke quietly, as if afraid to disturb the silence.

  Oberste? Was that German? Was it a name or title? Fear crashed over her. She swallowed it down and raised her chin.

  Oberste gave a quick nod. “Thank you, Vincent. Remove the gag.” He remained seated as Vincent did as he was asked. With a flourish of his hand, Oberste indicated the bed.

  Both men moved forward, but Gisa quickly moved to perch on the edge, her feet dangling off the side, before they had a chance to reach her. Ralph dropped her bag by the bed. Oberste rose slowly from his chair and walked to where she sat, scrutinizing her as if she were a pinned exotic insect.

  Gisa cringed as his stubby fingers searched the side of her face, the side that had received the last kick. Surprisingly, his hands were gentle as he probed the extent of her injury. When he finished, he rounded on the two men in fury.

  “She was not to be hurt.”

  "You said not to hurt the baby—nothing about her," the gray-haired man said sulkily.

  Oberste gritted his teeth." Vincent, your lack of intelligence precipitates your imminent demise."

  "Huh?" The man scratched his head.

  "Stress on the fetus creates the potential for unwanted side effects. Ralph, please remove Vincent from the premises."

  Gisa heard a pop, and Vincent slumped to the floor. She didn’t realize the sound was a gun until she saw it in Oberste's hand and, so small it appeared to be a toy. For a moment, sheer terror filled Ralph’s eyes, and then a flatness as he complied.

  Oberste's attention returned to her. “Nothing to fear from me, dear. Vincent was the one to fear. Idiot.” He pressed the nurse’s button. “Let’s get you undressed, sweetie.”

  She fought down the urge to scream and moved back, as far away from him as she could.

  Oberste laughed without mirth. “Gisa, please relax. Know that I have special plans for you.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes searching for a way of escape. Did he plan to rape her? She couldn't stop trembling.

  He took one of her hands and sandwiched it between his own. "No need to fear, my dear. I'm here to take care of you. No harm will befall you."

  The nurse arrived, and he left, pulling a heavy velvet curtain closed around her. He took her bag with him.

  Gisa at first resisted, but when two muscular orderlies were called to assist, she yielded without further protest. The nurse dismissed the two men and finished dressing her in a silky gown. It was like a hospital gown in that it opened in the back, yet with cross-straps running the full length. The top was a heavy white lace that extended down the middle, all the way to the hem. The rest of the gown was white silk and had a matching bed jacket. The nurse, a petite blonde with hair pulled into a tight bun, helped her button before she inserted the IV. She wore an old-fashioned nurse's uniform, complete with hat. The insignia on her uniform was some type of gold figure that Gisa could not identify.

  The nurse plunged a needle into the IV. “Just something to help you relax. Adalgisa. It's my pleasure to serve you.”

  Gisa looked at her blankly before the room began to spin. She closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her.

  * * *

  Rayden

  Rayden stared at the ceiling, racking his brain, in spite of the headache that the drugs could not entirely chase away. Gisa was unharmed, surely? They wanted the baby to be born, didn't they?

  His heart pounded in his ears, and he continued to move restlessly from side to side. He had to get out, find her, some way. Would Gisa have figured out moonbow and connect it to Cumberland State Park? He scoffed. It was unlikely that she had even heard him and more unlikely she would connect the two words if she had.

  And so what should he do? Go to Cumberland State Park and twiddle his thumbs, wait for her? No, he would have to find her, somehow. And how likely was that, laid up in a hospital bed for no telling how long? And with the police encamped outside his door?

  If he could only do
something...get out of here...escape ...somehow. But even if he did, where would he even look?

  The door clicked open. Thinking it was the nurse, Rayden kept his eyes closed until he felt the tape from the IV being removed.

  His eyes flew open to find his friend bent over his hand.

  "Josh..."

  "Shhh... We've got to do this quickly and quietly."

  Rayden nodded. “Is the policeman still there?”

  “Yes. Still waiting.” Josh pulled open the drawer and took out Rayden’s clothes and threw them on the bed. “Think you can get dressed? Your shoes are under the bed.”

  “Just take care of the policeman. I’ll be ready.”

  Josh pulled the curtain and left. Rayden got out of bed carefully. Gingerly, he tugged on his pants and shirt, wincing in pain with every movement. He bent down, moving slowly, to find his shoes. Even with his measured movements, his headache intensified.

  He felt tentatively under the bed, afraid of the pain that would come if he turned his head. His fingers found his shoes, and he managed to get them on and tied. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, his head throbbing and his body aching from the effort of dressing. He buttoned his shirt as he waited, sticking one finger in the bullet hole on the arm of the shirt. He had been lucky, thank God.

  Then the door opened, and Josh was at his elbow urging him out the door and down the hall. At the elevators, Josh repeatedly punched the button for the basement until it swished open. He pushed Rayden in and followed closely behind.

  Josh pointed to a camera in the upper corner of the elevator. “Getting rid of the policeman was the easy part. Shutting off the cameras was a bit harder.”

  “The alarms? The nurses?” His words were slurred. He studied Josh through his blurred vision.

  Josh grinned. “I did some adjusting of the monitors." He rubbed his hands together briskly. "This is kinda fun, like playing cops and robbers. Always thought I would be a cop, though.”