Jane and the Exodus (Stargazer Series Book 1)

by T. R. Woodman

  In the center of the table, there was an apple, a sandwich on a plate, and a bottle of water. At the sight of the apple, Jane’s salivary glands burned, her mouth anticipating something sweet and juicy. She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from drooling. Jane didn’t want to stare at the food on the table, but she couldn’t help it and may have fallen into a trance had it not been for seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye.

  Jane snapped her head to the right to see a man swivel from the wall. He was a huge man, well over six feet tall, had a rather large chest and a belly to match his chubby face. He was wearing dress pants—probably part of a suit, but the coat was nowhere to be seen—and he had the sleeves rolled up on his too-tight-across-the-midsection dress shirt.

  “Miss Philips,” the man bellowed, not having bothered yet to look at her, “please, sit down.”

  The man gestured to the chair nearest her, which also happened to be the one facing the glass.

  Jane took a step toward the chair, and with the same poise she would have had in attending a board meeting with her father, she sat on the edge of her chair with her back straight, hands in her lap. She stared coolly at the man.

  The man rounded the back side of the table and finally looked at Jane. The smile on his face vanished and was quickly replaced with alternating looks of surprise and concern. Jane knew she looked and smelled revolting. Even she wanted to vomit just at the smell of herself, but by the man’s reaction to the sight of her, Jane knew one of two things was happening: either he was legitimately caught off guard by her condition, or he was playing the nice guy for effect and wanted it to seem that he was concerned.

  Jane didn’t flinch.

  “Ah … Miss Philips—” the man stammered, sitting slowly in the chair opposite hers, and leaning into the table.

  “Did … uh …? Are you …? Did this … happen to you? Here, I mean?” the man finally managed to ask, gesturing somewhat to her face and then to her body, and back to her face.

  Jane said nothing. Still staring coolly at the man, she rested her arm on the table and pulled back the sleeve of her jersey to reveal the scab from the tag and the number that had been burned into her forearm.

  The man looked down at her arm and recoiled in seeming surprise, alternating glances at her arm and her face with a look of disgust and shock on his face.

  Feeling he had seen enough, and still not having taken her eyes from his, she pulled her sleeve over her arm and rested her hands back in her lap.

  The man stood from his chair. “Uh … Miss Philips … I am terribly sorry,” he said, very animated and almost jittery. “This was not supposed to happen. I can fix this. I am going to fix this for you.”

  Jane said nothing, still trying to figure out whether this man’s concern for her was genuine.

  Seeing that Jane wasn’t responding, the man let an awkward pause lapse and then sat down quickly in his seat. Peeling his stare away from her, he glanced down at the food on the table.

  “Oh, I … I thought you might be hungry, Miss Philips,” he said, pushing the food and water on the table toward her. “Please,” he added, gesturing to her to eat.

  Jane didn’t bother to look at the food or the water but continued to gaze calmly at the man.

  The man sat back in his seat. He wasn’t getting a reaction from her, so he continued to talk.

  “Please, Miss Philips, eat something,” he began with an imploring look on his face. “You have to be starving. I don’t know how this happened,” he added, gesturing generally to her, “but I’m going to make some arrangements for you to get yourself cleaned up—get you moved out of incarceration into a room more fitting of your social stature. I imagine a hot shower, some clean clothes, and a warm bed would feel pretty good?” he finished, looking at her for some agreement.

  Jane let a moment pass and finally spoke.

  “You know me, sir, but I can’t say the same about you,” she said politely with a dignified smile.

  “Oh, of course,” the man replied. “How rude of me. My name is Richard Biggs. Senator Richard Biggs. You know, your dad and I go way back.” The senator sat back in his chair with a friendly smile and a proud look on his face.

  Jane couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him to begin with, but then again, she hadn’t ever met the man in person who had caused such trouble for her dad over their strained history together—and was now trying to steal Evelyn. Jane knew that whatever he was offering her—comfort, food, a warm bed—was all a lie. Jane figured he was trying to befriend her to get her to open up about Evelyn. She wasn’t going to fall for it. Not wanting him to catch on that she knew who he was, Jane continued to stare.

  “And, Senator, why am I here?” she asked, still calm, hoping that her nerves hadn’t begun to show.

  “We need your help, of course,” the senator replied, gaining a little volume and some bravado, and opening both arms as a gesture to her. “We had intended to bring you in to help us out with a little problem we are having—to have a conversation, of course. But one of our agents found you outside the building, and one thing led to another, and yes—I’m sure that’s how this situation got all mixed up.”

  The senator relaxed his arms, putting them on the table, and leaned in with a concerned look on his face.

  “You have my word, Miss Philips. I will see to it that you are moved to nicer quarters during your stay here, and I will give you plenty of time to rest and recover, but there is a matter that cannot wait, and one that we desperately need your help with.”

  “Of course, Senator, how can I help?” Jane asked, less out of courtesy and more because she wanted to hear where the conversation was going.

  The senator smiled, a look of relief on his face. Jane couldn’t help but feel his concerns about the gravity of the situation were legitimate, even if his offer to help her wasn’t.

  “As you may know, President Coleson has been forced to order the rule of martial law across the country, ever since your father pulled that little broadcast stunt. I am sure he meant well by what he said. Your father is a good man, after all. But this…” the senator stood, shaking his head a bit dramatically “…this action was over the top, and now we are all suffering the consequences. The rule of law has broken down, Miss Philips. People are rioting. They are hurting one another. Their very lives are in danger.”

  The senator leaned forward to rest his hands on the table.

  “We believe your father’s artificial intelligence program—Evelyn, as you call it—can help us restore order. This situation is complicated, and the program can help us save lives, Miss Philips.

  “The trouble is, we can’t find it. Our best people are up on the space station now, trying their best to find the program, but they keep running into dead ends. Your father doesn’t want to cooperate, Miss Philips, but with every passing minute, with every second that ticks by, more people are dying.”

  The senator stood straight with an almost humble expression on his face.

  “Please, Miss Philips. Won’t you do the right thing? Help your country. Help your fellow man. Think of all the people you can save. Please, help us find Evelyn.”

  Jane sat quietly for a moment, the seconds ticking by to the point where she felt Senator Biggs might pass out from holding his breath in anticipation. She allowed her expression to turn weak.

  “Of course, Senator, I understand, but I’m afraid in my weakened condition, I’m having trouble thinking clearly about anything. I’m sure you understand.”

  Jane stood from her seat and continued. “Perhaps with a little more rest, I’ll be in a better position to help.”

  Hearing this, the senator’s hopeful expression turned sour.

  “Of course, Miss Philips,” the senator responded.

  Jane caught a momentary glare in the senator’s eyes, which made her want to smile, but she kept her composure.

  “Warden, open the door for Miss Philips,” the senator said loudly.

  A second later, Jan
e heard the door behind her click open.

  “I will look forward to that hot shower, Senator, whenever you can arrange for it. Good day.”

  “Of course, Miss Philips,” the senator repeated.

  Jane turned and started toward the door.

  “Oh, Miss Philips,” the senator called after her, “please bring the food and water with you.”

  “No, thank you, Senator,” Jane called over her shoulder. “I have lost my appetite.”

  Jane walked gracefully toward the elevator, wondering if the senator was watching her from behind, but she refused to look back.

  “Detainee, proceed into the elevator,” the voice ordered anyway, even though she was already headed in that direction and was nearly there.

  Coming to the elevator as the door was opening, she stepped inside and turned to look down the hallway. The senator was standing outside of the interrogation room, watching her with his arms draping along his large belly, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

  The elevator door closed, and she knew where she was headed. Seconds later, the door opened into the dank and dismal corridor leading to her cell. Jane stepped out of the elevator and walked, still thirsty, still hungry, still exhausted but with a renewed sense of hope. The senator wanted something from her—perhaps even needed something from her—and while she knew she wasn’t going to be moved to a nicer room, she was determined to play this game with him until her opportunity to escape presented itself.

  Jane turned into her room, heard the door grind shut behind her, and stretched out on her cot, unconcerned about the filth. In seconds, and finally with a sense of peace in her mind, she fell fast asleep.

  PENITENT

  When Jane awoke, it was again because the light above her head was buzzing and clicking on and off. She hadn’t moved from the cot and had no idea how long she had slept, but it was long enough for the exhaustion-induced nauseous feeling she had in her gut to subside.

  She sat up. Her mouth was still dry, but thankfully, the desperate sensation of being thirsty and hungry had subsided as well. Perhaps her body had given up on encouraging her to eat or drink something, since she clearly wasn’t cooperating.

  Jane stretched her neck and back, which had grown a little stiff from sleeping on the cold cot. She was definitely sore and her muscles ached, and despite the fact that she really had lost her appetite, she could tell she was lacking energy. Whatever Evelyn was going to do—if anything—would need to happen soon, or Jane might not have the wherewithal to save herself, let alone her family.

  Jane glanced around the room and noticed on the floor, just in front of the door, a plastic tray with a sandwich, also wrapped in plastic, an apple, and a bottle of water—the same provisions that had been presented to her by the senator hours ago in the interrogation room.

  She looked at the red ripe, firm apple and was tempted for a moment. Only witches in fairy tales poison apples, right? I mean, what could they possibly do to that? It looks perfect, Jane mused and then reluctantly pushed the thought of eating even one bite out of her mind. She couldn’t afford to take the risk.

  Jane hadn’t even heard the door open while she slept. Wondering what else she missed about her room, she knelt at the bottom of the door to see if she could figure out how the food had gotten there. In the blinking light, Jane could see a sliding door within the door, about a foot wide and six inches high. There was no handle to it either, but Jane was able to fit her finger under the edge. Lifting gently, she found that it slid up and into the larger cell door rather easily.

  Kneeling over, now with her face on the damp cement floor, Jane peered through the door into the hallway. She still couldn’t hear or see anything more than what she had before.

  Jane sat up on her knees, sizing up the small door, wondering if she could squeeze her way through. It just didn’t seem possible, but given the fact that she was now on the hungry-all-the-time diet plan, that time might come soon enough.

  It occurred to Jane that someone had to have brought the food to her and slid it through the door. She couldn’t imagine it was Marcus, given what she took to be a warning from him about eating or drinking, even if he was trying to keep up appearances among the other guards in the prison. And the thought of Senator Biggs down here in the dungeon, hand-delivering her meal on a tray, was laughable. No. Jane had to assume there must be other people here in the facility—people she hadn’t seen yet, and unfortunately, she didn’t know if there was just one or a hundred.

  As before, the light stopped buzzing and flashing. “Detainee, proceed to the elevator,” the voice ordered as the door slid open.

  Jane stood, stepped over the tray of food, and walked down the hallway to ride the elevator. Moments later, she found herself in the second-floor hallway, walking toward the interrogation room she had been in earlier with the senator, looking through the glass ceiling at a completely clear night sky. She couldn’t tell what time it was, but obviously, several hours had passed since she was last there.

  Jane stepped through the door of the same interrogation room she had been in and was greeted by the same smug fat-faced senator.

  “Miss Philips,” the senator said, this time more seriously and seemingly with less concern for her condition. “Please sit.”

  Jane assumed her boardroom posture, sitting delicately on the front of her seat.

  The senator sat down in the chair opposite Jane with a look of faux concern on his face.

  “I trust you were able to get some rest, Miss Philips?”

  “Yes, Senator, thank you.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear.”

  “I wonder, though, Senator,” Jane added, “how are you coming with the arrangements for my new accommodations?”

  “Well, Miss Philips,” the senator replied with a grim look on his face, “that’s why I called you back in here. I seem to be having some trouble unraveling this mix up. It’s taking longer than I had expected. There is a lot of bureaucracy and red tape, as I am sure you can imagine. I am fairly certain, however, that if you could find it in your heart to help us—to help your country—that would go a long way toward helping us clear up this whole mess.”

  Jane smiled.

  The senator returned her smile. “So how about it, Miss Philips?” He leaned forward a bit. “Now that you have rested up, what can you tell me about where the artificial intelligence program is?”

  Jane started to laugh politely, and the senator’s smile quickly faded.

  “Is there something about this which is funny to you, Miss Philips?”

  Jane leaned forward in her seat, and gave the senator a flirty smile. “Well, Senator, it’s just that I had always heard these stories about you. About your work. Your conquests. About your strength and power … and your charm,” she added with a subtle wink. “And now, I’m actually sitting here in your presence.”

  The senator hesitated but smiled and leaned back in his chair, clearly flattered and appreciative of receiving flirtatious affections from a beautiful young woman—even if she had looked better.

  Seeing the senator puffed up with ego, Jane let her expression turn cold and finished her thought.

  “And I’m wondering how so many people could have been so wrong.”

  The senator’s smug and proud expression quickly vanished. His face started to turn red, and Jane wondered if his eyes might catch fire, they seemed so full of rage. Jane knew she had hit him where it hurt.

  He was quiet for a moment and then sat up straight in his chair. “Warden, let him in!” the senator shouted through the door.

  Immediately Jane heard the door behind her open, and watching the reflection in the two-way glass in front of her, Jane could see that Marcus had entered the room, holding her holstered pistols in his hand. The door closed behind him.

  “Just put those right here by me,” the senator said, patting the table in front of him with a smirk on his face.

  Jane watched Marcus’s reflection in the glass as he came around
her. Placing the pistols down on the table beside the senator with one hand, Marcus cleared his throat and then moved the pistols closer, gently and almost imperceptibly tapping a spot in the fabric of the holster with his finger.

  Jane casually looked at the holsters—and at the spot Marcus was pointing to, noticing the hair-like wire protruding from the edge. It was the wire from her earbud. Marcus must have slipped it into the belt somewhere along the way. Jane felt a wave of relief wash over her. At least she knew Evelyn would be listening, and she was more convinced that Marcus really was on her side.

  As Marcus turned to leave the room, Jane looked back at the senator. Resting his hand on the pistols, he looked back with a pompous grin and a black coldness in his eyes.

  “It seems you’re in a little more trouble than you may realize, Miss Philips, but then again, it would have been a stretch to assume you had any brains to go with that pretty little face of yours.”

  Jane felt her blood pressure rise at the senator’s condescending remark but knew she had to remain calm.

  “Why don’t you explain it to me, then, Senator?” Jane replied with a steely stare.

  “Did you even bother to listen to the charges against you when you were processed into the detainment facility, Miss Philips? Were you thinking this was all a big joke? Maybe you don’t think the rules apply to you, Miss Philips?”

  Jane sat quietly, letting the senator vent.

  “Felony, trespassing … felony, endangerment … felony, failure to file a travel plan—”

  The senator paused and looked down at the pistols. Unsnapping the buckle that held the standard pistol in its holster, the senator withdrew the gun, pulled back the action to see if it was loaded, and let it snap back. Grinning, he rested it on the table with his finger on the trigger.

  “And—felony, possession of a firearm,” the senator added, returning his gaze to Jane. “Do you know what the punishment is for a felony, Miss Philips?”