by K C West
I thought about Kimmy a lot. Was she feeling better? Was her flu all gone? I hoped so. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking of me, too?
I shifted again and felt the piece of paper crackle inside my bra, where I had tucked it for safekeeping. Call me a sentimental fool, but when I finished working on the videotape script, I got the chance to write Kim a note. Woodsy was guarding me while Designer Suit and Garlic Breath argued over who would deliver the tape and who would pick the drop-off spot. The conditions weren’t perfect. My leg was chained to the table, and Woodsy rarely took his eyes off me, but while pretending to work on the script, I managed to scribble a message to my love, just in case things didn’t work out.
Alone in the dark, I recalled the words I had struggled to write.
Dear Kim,
If you are reading this letter, it probably means that I am dead. I wanted you to know that my final thoughts were of you and the love we shared. Although it’s been less than a year, it was the best time of my life. I hope it was for you, too.
Once we got to know each other, we seemed like a pair of old friends who were meeting again after a long separation. It was weird and a little creepy at first, but comfortable and relaxed once we stopped fighting the attraction. We discovered that we had a lot of unfinished work to do, like finding your Amazon family and figuring out how our destiny meshed with theirs. I guess you’ll have to do that work alone now, until we can meet again in some other, better place.
You made me so happy, Kim. I hope you were happy with me. I tried to tell you often enough how much I loved you. Please don’t grieve for me. Move on. I’ll have our love for comfort wherever I am. I’ll find a sunny beach somewhere and wait for you at the water’s edge, writing our names in the sand.
You’re on my mind and in my heart. And I will love you…
Always and Forever.
PJ
My throat tightened and tears filled my eyes. It was always worse at night, when my defenses were weaker. Loneliness and fear grew like twin vines inside me, threatening to choke off my hope and render me helpless. I tried all sorts of things to fight it. I prayed, read, gave myself pep talks, and slept with the light on. But the fear always returned. The only way I could get relief, the only way I could sleep, was to punish myself with physical exercise. I performed sit-ups and crunches until sweat trickled into my eyes. I ran in place until my knees weakened, and I did push-ups on the cot until my arms trembled with fatigue.
Peter Gibbs had several books of Celtic myths in his bookcase, and I delved into them, reading until the words blurred and ran together on the pages. There were thick volumes on Welsh heritage, Druids, warriors, bards, and ancient symbols. I read until my eyes burned, and the mental or physical exhaustion engulfed me like a shroud, releasing my mind and body to the blessed oblivion of sleep.
I’d often dream of Arthur’s return - to help Kim vanquish my evil kidnappers and restore me to my place at her side. In my dreams, Kim’s battledress was decidedly Amazonian, and her trusty steed looked a lot like Pup, but night after night, they arrived in the nick of time to help me. Together, we fought our way to freedom.
Tonight was no different; however, I had the added distraction of physical need. It was my own fault. I knew that thinking about my partner, especially in Amazon leathers, would arouse me. It always had. I resisted as long as I could, but my body had gone too long without my lover’s touch. I was only human, and I knew what I was missing.
“Damn it, I want to be with you tonight.” I shifted onto my back and hugged myself. “I’m trying so hard to be brave, but God, I miss you and I need you.”
I turned my face into my pillow and sobbed.
*
There was a scraping noise in the corner where the bookcase stood. I rolled over and sat up, careful to make no further sound. Either the light had burned out, or I had turned it off before falling asleep. Though disoriented, I was alert enough to realize that my mouse friend was on a nocturnal food raid.
“Hey there,” I called softly as I reached out for the switch. The room was bathed in ghostly light.
The mouse retreated quickly to the sanctuary of the old bookcase, but soon he reappeared.
He needed a name. Maybe, since he was brown, I could call him Brownie. I didn’t even know if he was a he or a she. Brownie should work either way.
“Hey, Brownie. You don’t mind if I call you Brownie, do you?”
I pulled a roll out of my pocket and broke off a piece. “I saved this from supper. But you probably have some starving mouths to feed behind that wall someplace, so you need it more than I do.”
He sat up on his haunches. I could see his whiskers twitching. “Come on. I know you want it. You don’t have to be afraid of me. We’re buddies, right?”
I tossed the bits of bread off the end of the cot and waited. He took a few tentative steps toward the food and halted. “Okay, so it isn’t cheese this time. I’m sorry. I can’t give you gourmet meals every night.”
He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and scampered back to the bookcase. One second he was there, the next he’d vanished. In an instant, he was back for more.
“Ah, I knew it. You have a family under there, don’t you, grownie?”
He approached the edge of the cot, emboldened by the smell of food and soothed by my soft, familiar voice, or at least I hoped so. I felt a tiny weight as he sprang onto the mattress. “Come on, fella,” I whispered, holding out the last morsel of bread. “Sorry there’s no butter on it. But, at least there’s none of that Marmite crap.” He crawled up my blanket-covered leg, took the bread from my hand, and paused to stuff a wad into his cheek. His head dipped just as I mentioned the Marmite, and I laughed. “I know. That stuff looks like roofing tar and smells like dirty socks. The man who owns this place has jars of it stashed away.” I shuddered, and Brownie retreated. “Sorry. It just gives me the creeps thinking about it.”
He scurried back to his hidden sanctuary. “Bye, Brownie. I’ll try to get some cheese for you in the morning.”
I turned off the light and stretched out under the blanket. If Kim could see me now, she’d never believe it. Training a mouse to take food from my fingers.
The thought made me smile, if only for the moment.
*
The noise was soft, but I heard it. Too big to be Brownie this time. My heart thudded in anticipation and I sat up. In a voice that surprised me with its strength, I said, “Whoever you are, come out of the shadows and show yourself. I’ll fight you if I have to.”
A human shape materialized at the foot of my bed. It was a woman, wearing some sort of battledress made of skins, feathers, and metal. She glowed with a soft, internal light that formed an aura around her body. A mask covered the upper part of her face, but I glimpsed a flash of white from her eyes as she approached me.
I groaned. “You’re not Kim. It’s supposed to be Kim coming to my rescue. Damn it, I can’t even get my dreams to work right.”
“Hush and be still,” said my nocturnal visitor. She placed a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me flat on my back.
I tried to sit up. “Not another Amazon. I’ve been around Kim too long, I must be losing it.” I peered at her familiar shape in the semi-darkness. “Wait a minute, I’ve seen you before. You’re the one who popped up unannounced in Arizona last fall, aren’t you?”
“Keep your voice down.”
I took her hand, which was surprisingly strong, shoved it aside and forced myself back to a sitting position. “Okay, I’m keeping my voice down. Answer me. Are you the same one?”
“I am.” She sat beside me on the cot.
My patience had worn thin. “What do you want? Why are you here?” Geez, I was having a conversation with an apparition. Again.
She reached for my hand, but I snatched it away. “We were afraid you had lost hope, little one. All that weeping.”
I stood up and pulled on my jeans. I had slept in one of Sarah’s old shirts while my underwear, s
ocks, and T-shirt dried on a nearby chair. The air in the basement was cold, sending goose bumps along my arms. “Jesus Christ! I’ve been a captive here for almost a week. If things don’t go right, I’ll be shot and dumped in a hole somewhere. I think, under the circumstances, that I have a perfect right to be upset.”
“Of course you do, but you must not show the enemy your vulnerability.”
“Don’t patronize me. And stop treating me like one of your warriors. I’m not an Amazon like you and Kim. Sometimes, I feel weak and - ”
“Oh, but you are,” she said, interrupting me.
I stared at her, watching the feathers on her tight leather costume sway as she moved. The whites of her eyes were bright behind her mask. “What? What am I?”
She gave a light laugh that was part snort. “An Amazon, of course. Didn’t you know that, little one?”
I sat back down on the cot because my legs had lost their strength. “That’s ridiculous.”
She shook her head and grinned.
I wondered what she looked like under all those feathers. She didn’t have any weapons. I’d bet I could yank that mask off her face and see for myself. Oh, hell, she’d probably kill me with her bare hands.
“If only you had worn the medallion,” she said in a soothing voice, “you would have seen the visions. I could have come to you sooner. Your questions would have - ”
I held up my hand. “Whoa. Enough. You people may be able to invade Kim’s dreams and convince her that she is one of you, or was one of you, but I’m not such a pushover.”
This time she laughed out loud. “I told my superiors that this assignment would be difficult, but I had no idea.”
“You can’t tell me a piece of metal has such powers. And for our information, it has a faulty clasp, so I couldn’t wear it.” I stood and folded my arms across my chest for emphasis.
Her voice dropped. She spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child who could not comprehend. “Very well. Whatever you say. We will deal with that later. I am here now to give you hope and a message from your soul mate.”
My heart tumbled in my chest. “A message from Kim? Is she okay? Does she - ”
The Amazon put her hand on my arm. “This time you need to whoa.”
I sat down again on the cot and finished pulling on my socks, taking a deep breath as I did so. “All right, then. Is she okay?”
“Yes, except for missing you and worrying about you, she’s fine.”
My eyes filled with tears, but I smiled through them. “Thank goodness. Do you know if she’s been able to see the videotape yet?”
She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Videotape? I know nothing of this. I’m sorry. My superiors told me that she was angry, worried, and determined. That’s all.”
I nodded. “That will be enough. When Kim is any one of those things, she’s a force to be reckoned with.”
The woman tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Her concern - indeed, our concern - is with you, little one. Are you strong enough to survive this?”
“You tell me.” I stood and began to pace the length of the room. “I have to be, don’t I? I’m aware my options are limited, but I have an escape plan.”
“Good.”
I spent a few minutes explaining what it was, and she seemed to think it could work, though she preferred that I overpower the men and kill them with their own guns.
“Shooting is not an option for me,” I told her. “I’m the running-away type.”
She laughed. “You may be surprised.”
“Well,” I started to say, but she stood up and made a silencing gesture. “What is it?” I whispered, the hair rising on the back of my neck.
“I am called back now, but I’ll be watching over you, little one. Is there anything you wish me to tell your soul mate? It might be possible to get a word or two back to her.”
I told her about Peter Gibbs and the name of the town, but Welsh was not the Amazon’s native tongue. She had enough trouble with English. “Just try to get her to read the travel brochures on the table by our bed.”
She gave me a smile of relief. “All right, brochures, whatever they are. I’ll see what I can manage. Be aware that it takes an enormous amount of energy for me to appear in your world, but I’ll do what I can.” She faded into a wisp of pale amber smoke, and then vanished completely.
As I stared at the empty space her body had occupied, I detected the faint smell of old leather and campfire ashes. I reviewed our conversation, and my stomach did a Texas Two-Step. “Holy shit! She said I was an Amazon, too.” I thought back to Arizona and the Amazons sleeping on Superstition Mountain. They were real, archaeologically speaking, but I wasn’t sure where I fit in.
More light filtered down from the window well. I sat back on my cot and waited for one of the thugs to come and escort me upstairs.
One thing was certain. If I was really an Amazon, it was time I started acting like one.
Chapter 19
The day was gray and rainy, typical in this part of the world, but that was the reason the grass grew so green and the flowers were so prolific. My mood matched the clouds more than the grass, the rain more than the flowers. As long as PJ was a captive, held under who knows what conditions, every day would seem dismal.
My image in the mirror looked gaunt. Black circles under my eyes attested to my sleeplessness, and red eyes evidenced the tears I had shed during the long, lonely hours.
I took a quick shower and dressed. Arwel handed me a message as I was walking through the lobby. It was from Terry, saying that she would meet me for breakfast at Sally’s Cafe.
“Shit!”
“Is something wrong?” Arwel looked at me with concern.
“No, not really. May I use your telephone?”
She slid the instrument across the counter toward me. I know I should have used the pay phone, but this was quicker, and Arwel didn’t seem to mind.
I’m in no mood for this, I thought, as I dialed her number to decline her invitation. Having breakfast with her was so low on my list of priorities it wasn’t even there. Couldn’t she see that I was more concerned about working on the tape than I was about eating?
Damn it, there was no answer, which left me no choice but to join her.
I stepped outside into a light drizzle. When strangers gave me cold stares, I realized that my own expression must have mimicked the swollen dark clouds that threatened to turn the drizzle into a downpour.
I pushed open the door to the restaurant and a small, tinkling bell announced my arrival. Terry was already seated at a table in the alcove of a bay window. White lace half curtains on the small-paned windows shielded the diners from people passing on the street. It was cozy and private, but did little to lift my foul mood.
I nodded a greeting and sat down, noting with irritation that Terry appeared fresh and rested. She wore a pressed pair of faded jeans and black knee-high boots. Her soft pink shirt was open sufficiently at the neck to allow full view of cleavage and the hint of a black lace bra.
She gave me a quick once-over. “You look like roadkill. I wouldn’t want to touch you with a long pole.”
“That’s fine with me. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
“Good God, woman, what is the matter with you? Is my baby lost without her little bed warmer?”
I leaned toward her and lowered my voice to a menacing growl. “That’s enough! You’re here only because Frederick requested it.”
She recoiled in a huff. “I know that.”
“And since you’re getting paid a bundle for your services, Frederick expects you to do your job to the best of your ability. I’m going to be watching to make sure you do just that.”
“I know what’s expected of me, and I’m doing it.” She gave me a seductive smile. “Aren’t I?”
Everything had a double meaning with her.
“Hear me loud and clear, Terry Simms. I’ve had just about enough of your antics.”
“What a
ntics?”
“You’re here to do a job, nothing more.” I dropped my voice, speaking slowly for emphasis. “And while you’re here you will treat PJ with the utmost respect. That goes if you’re dealing with her in person or speaking about her. Furthermore, you will treat me with the respect due a colleague. I will treat you respectfully, too, as a colleague. And that’s all there is.”
I picked up the small, neatly handwritten menu.
She sighed and picked up hers. “Whatever you say, dear.”
The paper crackled in my hands. I wanted to wipe the smirk off her face with my fists, but the waitress arrived at our table before I could embarrass myself by making a scene.
Two middle aged women and one older woman, seated by the inner wall, stared at us as politely as they dared, dropping their eyes when I glanced their way.
I ordered tea, dark toast, and a soft-boiled egg. Terry ordered a pastry.
Though I was in no mood to appreciate my surroundings, I had to admit that the cafe was delightful. The walls were papered in tiny rosebuds against a white background, and a collection of antique teapots was displayed in two glass-fronted cabinets. White lace cloths covered the eight small, circular tables. In the center of each table, white vases of different sizes and designs contained small bunches of flowers.
I’d have to bring PJ here when this was all over. She’d love the atmosphere. It was so British.
The thought of my missing partner filled me with despair, but ferry didn’t seem to notice. She chatted about her work, her travels, and a wealthy woman she had met in Rio, who was, according to her, head over heels in love with her. I listened just enough to add a nod here and there or to say “Is that so?” or “Indeed.” The rest of the time I sat in morose silence. Her life was of no interest to me whatsoever.
The food arrived, and I focused my attention on the beautiful brown egg, served in a proper British eggcup. The cup itself was a dainty piece of bone china, trimmed in pink rosebuds. Accompanying it was a small silver utensil that neatly clipped off the top of the egg.
