Moonbow

by Sheila Hollinghead

  The elevator door slid open, and the next thing Rayden knew, they were walking across the parking lot, Josh supporting him.

  Josh helped him into a car as if he were an old man. Rayden felt like it. He managed to get his seatbelt on and laid his head back against the headrest while Josh made his way around the car to the driver's side.

  "You okay, Ray?" His eyes were anxiously surveying him as he climbed in and buckled his seatbelt.

  Rayden nodded very slowly. Josh's eyes flashed concern before he backed out of the parking space with a squeal of the tires.

  “Slow down. Cops...” Rayden said.

  “Aw." He glanced at him and smiled. "Just when I was having fun.”

  “Not a game.” Rayden ground his teeth. He would have said more, but sharp pains shooting through his skull left him unable to string words together. He gulped air, fighting down the nausea.

  "You okay?" he heard Josh ask from what seemed to be far away. "Man, we've got to get you back to the hospital."

  "No," Rayden croaked out. "I'll be all right."

  “I'll swing by the clinic for some pain meds.” Josh's face grew grim, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  "No time." Rayden rolled his head on the headrest.

  "We'll make time. Just relax."

  Rayden took more deep breaths, trying to ease the pain that threatened to burst his skull. The pounding only intensified with each breath, and bile rose in his throat.

  Josh pulled into a parking place and switched the car off. “Be back in a minute. Hang in there.”

  Rayden barely heard him. He rolled the window down and allowed the breeze to ease the pain. The backdrop of the mountains calmed him, and he breathed deeply of the mountain air.

  He attempted to scan the parking lot through his blurred eyes to see if anyone had pulled in behind them. He didn’t see anyone close. The parking lot was only a third full.

  Josh came back with two canned drinks and a small bag. He dug in the bag to retrieve a couple of pills.

  "I need two?" Rayden asked, wanting to keep alert, even if it meant more pain.

  “At least,” Josh said, placing the pills in Rayden’s hand.

  Rayden swallowed them and took a sip of his drink. Josh made no move to crank the car.

  “I’ve got a little two-seater plane and a cabin up in the mountains. I could fly you there.”

  Rayden nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” He had to get somewhere to lie down, to rest, to regain his strength, so he could find Gisa.

  “It's a small cabin, just one bedroom. It does have electricity. And all the necessities—satellite and TV.”

  Josh cranked the car, and Rayden nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes.

  "I just plan to get you settled in, and then I’ve got to get back.”

  “Sounds good.” Speaking was an effort. He wanted Josh to hurry. The sooner they got there, the sooner they would be out of danger.

  “I’ll fly back up in a few days to check on you.”

  “Should work,” he said, wincing with each word, praying the pain meds would soon take effect.

  “Okay. I’ll have to file a flight plan. There’s canned food and a freezer full at the cabin, but we’ll need to pick up a few things. Like clothes. Do you have anything else to wear?”

  “No.” He didn't want to go back to their campsite. It was probably staked out.

  “We’ll make a couple of stops, and then we’ll be on our way.” He glanced at Rayden. “Think you can make it?”

  “Yes,” he said grimly. He'd make it. He had to, for Gisa's sake. Wherever she was.

  TIME DRIFTED THROUGH Gisa's mind, ever elusive. She drifted in and out of sleep, awakening only to see the nurse, one of the two orderlies, or Oberste. The nurse would check her vitals or adjust the drip of the IV. The IV was hooked up to what looked like bags of glucose but with a reddish tinge, probably some type of drug that kept her sedated—aware, yet unable to speak or move. The orderlies emptied her catheter bag, kept the sheets changed, and performed other maintenance jobs. Oberste simply watched her, occasionally lifting her limp wrist to feel her pulse. Even with the sedating effects of the drug, she cringed at his touch.

  Most of the time, she didn’t fight the drug. She wanted to retreat into the solace of sleep. The weeks of being on hyper alert had taken their toll.

  She dreamed of David, his sandy blond hair, his dimples, and his good-natured smiling face. She dreamed he was there, by her bed, speaking to her at times. His eyes, as blue as the autumn sky, calmed her. Her dreams melded together with her waking moments until she no longer knew reality from her dreams.

  * * *

  Rayden

  Rayden awoke with a start, his heart pounding. His feet hit the floor and he crouched beside the bed. What had awoken him? He hobbled to the bedroom door, his hand on his injured leg. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened. He heard nothing—only the pounding of his heart in his ears. It was still dark but Rayden sensed daybreak’s approach. The clock flashed 4:30. He walked back to the bed to retrieve his shoes and pulled them on quickly.

  The soft hooting of an owl filtered through the window, and he stopped, his hands still on his shoe lace, and smiled. He finished tying his shoes and limped to the front door to open it. Josh came from behind a tree.

  Rayden shook his head at his friend. "You and your ideas—hooting like an owl."

  "Well, it worked, didn't it? You knew it was me." He grinned and pushed past Rayden.

  Rayden flipped on the light. "What are you doing up so early? It's not even five."

  Josh rubbed the stubble on his chin as he flopped on the couch and kicked off his shoes. "I'm getting a little worried. Some strange folks have been hanging around the clinic."

  Rayden sighed. Why would anyone, besides the police, be interested in him now that they had Gisa? Surely Die Auserwählten were long gone—Josh had gotten addicted to this game of cops and robbers.

  He took a seat in the chair next to the couch. "Listen, Josh. I've told you that this isn't a game."

  "I know that. But it doesn't hurt to have a bit of fun, does it? And I'm telling you, there are some weird guys hanging around."

  Rayden rubbed the back of his neck. "What do these strange folks look like?"

  After shrugging his shoulders, Josh leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Big, hefty guys. Even had one come in, pretending to be there for his girlfriend. Phhtt."

  "Why were you suspicious of him?"

  "I know the type. They don't care about anyone but self. Good looking, muscular, blond, arrogant—thinks he's God's gift to women."

  Rayden rose and went into the tiny kitchen. "Doesn't matter. I planned to head out today. I was waiting for you to get here—just didn't expect you to arrive so early."

  "Do you think that's a good idea? It's only been five days since...your accident. You need time to heal."

  Rayden shook his head. "I can't wait any longer. I've got to get going."

  Josh's eyes narrowed. "At least let me help you. I'll gather supplies, get you some transportation."

  "Josh, you've done so much for me, I can't ask you to do more. And the longer I stay, the more dangerous it becomes for Gisa." Fear had an icy hold on his insides, no matter how many times he told himself that no harm would befall her.

  "But where are you going to go? How are you going to find the girl?"

  "I don't know. She could be anywhere."

  "Who is she anyway? Not a girlfriend?" His eyes brimmed with curiosity.

  Rayden stuck his head in the refrigerator, knowing Josh still watched. He pulled out the orange juice and poured a glass. He propped against the short counter and faced him. "No—not a girlfriend."

  His friend's eyes still danced with interest. "What's going on, Ray? I knew the murder charge was bogus. You might get involved in some wild-eyed protest against 'injustices.'" Josh made imaginary quote marks as he had before. "But you're not a criminal."

  "Thanks."
/>
  "You're not gonna tell me?"

  Rayden pushed away from the counter and paced around the room until his leg reminded him of his injury. He flopped down on the couch. "I...it's...you don't need to get involved." He cleared his throat. "How 'bout the police? Did they question you?"

  "Yeah. Came back around about the shooting at the clinic. Nothing concerning your disappearance. Your picture has been on the news, though."

  "Yeah. I've been watching TV. All the more reason to get going, to get out of this area."

  "All right. I've got a backpack around somewhere. I'll help you get ready. But where do you plan to go?"

  Rayden didn't answer—not because he didn't trust Josh but because he had no idea where to even begin looking for Gisa. Where could they have taken her?

  * * *

  Gisa

  Gisa dreamed the sun was shining and the air crisp like the day she had first met David. His arms encircled her, and he bent to kiss her. But when she pulled back from the warmth of his kiss she saw that it was not David at all. The hair was dark, the eyes a deeper blue. The shape of the face morphed into Rayden's. She clung to him and cried for him to not let her go.

  She awoke with tears on her face, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. The IV had been removed. She sat up with a start. She was no longer in the hospital room, if indeed the building where she had been kept was a hospital.

  Now her bed was a normal double bed, although it was old-fashioned, perhaps even an antique. The small room had walls painted a vivid blue. The room was void of decorations, without so much as a picture on the wall, and also had no other furniture except for a treadmill in one corner. The one window had black metal bars on the outside. There were two doors, both of heavy wood—oak, she thought.

  Weakness overtook her, and she fell back into the softness of the down pillows, closed her eyes, and slept.

  The next time she awoke, Oberste stood by her bed.

  “Where am I?” Her voice was a croak. Her mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

  "A place of safety. Sit up, please.”

  She didn't respond.

  "I'll call the orderlies to help...if you need assistance?" He remained standing with a pleasant look on his face.

  She shook her head and pushed to a sitting position. He fluffed the pillows at her back.

  She tried not to recoil from his scent of gardenias. She pulled the white down comforter up to her chin as if it could protect her.

  “We just want to ensure the baby arrives healthy. You can make things difficult for yourself, or you can cooperate and earn privileges."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of privileges?"

  "Cooperate and find out." His cheeks rounded as he grinned at her. "First, we need your help in locating Rayden Brooks. Do you have any information to help us?"

  "How could I? I haven't seen him since your men kidnapped me."

  "Tsk, tsk. Surely you had a contingency plan? Where did you plan to meet if..." He coughed delicately. "If you were separated?"

  How stupid she and Rayden had been. Why hadn't they thought of that? Anger slashed through her. Anger at Rayden. Why hadn't he made better plans? Yet, wasn't she the one who had insisted on the abortion? Who led her own self into danger?

  "We never planned to meet anywhere." Her voice was flat.

  "Surely you can do better than that, Adalgisa." His eyes fixated on her, and she squirmed under the scrutiny.

  She shook her head. "No. I have no idea where he is."

  He clucked his tongue at her and shook his head sadly. She shivered, fear percolating in the pit of her stomach.

  Yet, at the same time, she felt happier—hopeful. If Oberste was asking, that meant Rayden was still alive.

  Somewhere.

  RAYDEN TOOK ONE last look around the cabin before pulling on his jacket. He hoisted the backpack with the attached sleeping bag onto his back, wincing at the pain shooting through his arm. At least his massive headache had eased.

  He shook Josh's hand, giving him a slap on the shoulder. "Thanks for all your help. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

  Josh waved a hand in dismissal. "No problem. Just let me know when you find her."

  "I will." He gave Josh a nod and slipped out the door.

  It was a new moon and still pitch black outside. He sprinted across the yard, clutching his leg as he entered the woods. As quietly as possible, he moved through the trees. It was even darker here and limbs and brambles caught at his coat.

  He put his arms out in front of him, like a blind man, and worked his way deeper into the forest. Not far from the cabin, he came to a clearing. He shrugged the backpack off, laid down using it as a pillow, watched the stars, and listened.

  A branch crackled. Was something following him? Something or someone. Probably just a wild animal. Still, he needed to keep moving.

  He scrambled to his feet and lifted the backpack.

  A sudden far-off shout made him freeze in his tracks. His eyes darted around the clearing but he could see nothing in the dark. An acrid smell reached his nostrils. Smoke. Had that been Josh shouting? Through the trees, in the distance, he saw flames. Half stumbling and half running, he made his way toward the cabin, trusting the darkness and trees to keep him hidden. He stopped on a ridge that looked down on the clearing.

  The cabin burned, flames licking the skies. Several people milled around, but he could not make out any faces and didn't know if Josh was among them.

  The skies grayed. A fallen tree lay nearby. Shrugging off the backpack, he grabbed a stick and dug out a hole under the tree, resorting to his hands when the stick broke. He piled up some branches and wedged the backpack under them. He erased the signs of his presence the best he could and crawled feet first into the hole he had made.

  He pulled the branches in place and scrunched up. He rooted around in the backpack and found the binoculars, glad that Josh had insisted he take them. He pushed aside a branch and focused on the cabin below, able to see the figures now in the early slant of the morning light. He made out three men.

  Why were they here? Why would Die Auserwählten go to all this trouble to find him? It had to be Die Auserwählten. Who else could it be?

  He panned the binoculars around until Josh's face came into focus. A man with long brown hair, highlights shining in the morning sun, had Josh's arms pulled back while another, a tall blond man, pummeled him. Josh slumped forward, and the tall blond man pulled his chin up, shouting in his face. Rayden couldn't make out what was said, but he could guess at the words.

  Rayden dug his nails into his palms. He wouldn't stand a chance against the three men—perhaps more behind the cabin. But he had to do something. Too bad Josh had not owned a gun. Rayden didn't have a weapon, nothing except a pocketknife.

  Rayden watched, helpless, as Josh slowly shook his head, and the shouting man struck him with his flat palm. Cringing, Rayden started forward when the man released Josh. His cabin still blazing behind him, Josh sprawled to the ground. The blond man lit a cigarette, watching Josh for a moment. And then he snapped his fingers, and the three men walked away without looking back.

  Rayden prayed for Josh to get up, urging him in his mind, as if watching a boxing match. Josh stayed down for a long ten seconds but finally made it to his feet and placed his hands on his knees. Even from this distance, Rayden could tell he breathed heavily.

  Then Josh cupped his hands around his mouth. At first, Rayden didn't understand what he was doing...until he heard the faint hooting. Rayden sighed and smiled to himself. Josh would be all right. Josh put a hand up in the air, giving a wave, as if he had been the victor, and walked away from his burning cabin.

  Josh didn't, couldn't, know he was there watching. Had it just been a show for these men from Die Auserwählten? Should he intercept him, make sure he was okay? No, he had to stay hidden, get as far away as possible, for Gisa's sake.

  It began to rain, just a light drizzle at first, and Rayden was glad.
It would help erase any footprints he may have left. The drizzle became a downpour. Water quickly pooled under the tree, and Rayden was soon soaked, his teeth chattering.

  Yet his mouth was parched. He maneuvered in the tight space until he was able to extract the water bottle from the backpack. He screwed off the lid and took a long drink.

  He stiffened. Twigs snapped. Someone moved through the woods. He heard voices, but the pouring rain prevented him from understanding the words. Through the branches and the downpour, he saw the tall blond man walking towards the tree. He held his breath, rolling into a tight ball, praying that the branches hid him. The person stopped at his hiding place, and Rayden got a good look at hiking boots before the man climbed over and was gone.

  * * *

  Gisa padded around the room in her bare feet, examining every inch, but saw no means of escape. Both of the heavy oak doors were locked. She ran her fingers over the treadmill, the bed, also of heavy oak, the baseboards, around the bars of the window...nothing. Nothing that she could pry loose, nothing she could use as a weapon.

  Keys rattled in the old-fashioned lock, and the door swung open. A man she had never seen before stood in the doorway, holding something. He pulled the door closed and flashed a smile at her. "Your search is fruitless. There's no way out."

  They had been watching? She hadn't seen cameras. Her gaze swept the ceiling. There were two air-conditioning vents with tiny protuberances on each side—cameras, she supposed. The ceiling was at least ten-feet high. Even if she stood on the bed, she wouldn't be able to reach the ceiling to destroy the cameras. There was nothing else in the room to stand on. They would see her anyway and stop her, so what would be the use?

  The man laid a small bundle of clothes on the bed. As he did so, she studied him. He was at least six-feet tall, muscular, with highlights, artificially induced she was sure, in his longish golden hair. It shone in the light from above. He swung his head, in a Bieber-like move, and with careful, exaggerated movements, used his palms to smooth his hair back.