by Bryan Davis
Another beep sounded. She fumbled in her bag for her phone, nearly dropping it as she pulled it out. She lifted it close to her face and read the message. “If you want to live, do not go to Micaela’s car. I planted a bomb inside. Proceed to the rear of the school. Say nothing and contact no one, or your friend is dead.”
Lauren gulped. Was that the mutant standing out there? Did he send this message? What should she do now? Maybe pretend to obey and text Micaela to scat? Yes, that might work. She nodded at the dark figure and reversed course. As soon as the corner of the building blocked the stranger’s view, she leaned against the wall.
Breathing heavily, she propped her elbows and began texting. Her heart thumped, making her jumble the letters, forcing her to retype. “Don’t start your car! Get out of it now! Call the police!”
A few seconds later, the phone beeped. The message read, “You have made a poor decision. You will see the results in a moment.”
Lauren dropped the phone. It thudded against her shoe and toppled to the concrete. Gasping for breath, she looked both ways. Toward the back of the school, all was dark. Toward the front, several people waited for rides at the edge of the pick-up lane.
An explosion shook the ground. A plume of fire and smoke shot into the sky, lighting up the parking lot. Lauren dropped to her knees, spilling her bag. Micaela’s car!
VOICES
Her hands shaking, Lauren groped for her phone. No! It can’t be! Not Micaela! She had to be all right. She had to have gotten the message and jumped out in time.
Finally, she grabbed the phone and punched 911, but a beep interrupted. She read the text, barely visible through a blur of tears. “You have ten seconds to arrive at the back parking lot. Otherwise, your parents will suffer Micaela’s fate. If you could see her burning body, you would not delay.”
As shouts and cries erupted from the parking lot, Lauren scooped her sweats and change of clothes into her bag, then jumped up and ran toward the rear of the school. When she arrived at the lot, a stretch limousine sat alone in the front row, its engine running.
A distant siren wailed, and another called from a different direction. A new text beeped. “Wait for the emergency vehicles to arrive, then get in the car and drive north on Route 180 out of Flagstaff.”
The approaching sirens drifted in on a cold breeze, raising a chill. She set her phone and gym bag on the hood and pulled out her sweatpants. As she put them on, she tried to look through the closest backseat window on the driver’s side, but the tinted glass blocked her view. A peek through the windshield revealed nothing in the front seat. As big as this vehicle was, someone could be hiding in the back.
She pulled the front latch slowly, opened the door, and leaned over the driver’s headrest. In the spacious rear compartment, luxurious leather seats, enough to accommodate at least eight people, surrounded a central chessboard table with chess pieces standing at their starting positions, several of them over half a foot tall.
Setting her hand on the headrest, she pulled in for a closer look. White pieces on the left side of the table and black on the right, the chessmen appeared to be inspired by an odd mixture of fairy tales. The kings and queens looked thin and frail, like rulers of a besieged realm. The bishops were ravens perched on tree stumps, while the knights were Don Quixote–style men riding sag-backed horses, and the rooks resembled the ruins of castle turrets with gaps in the ragged brickwork. Finally, the pawns looked like peasant children carrying buckets and scrub brushes.
A fire engine roared by and passed out of sight in front of the school. An ambulance and a police car followed close behind. Lauren grabbed her bag and phone and set them in the front passenger’s seat, making sure to prop the phone at an easy reading angle. She closed the door and studied the dashboard. She had driven Dad’s old convertible several times. This limo probably wasn’t much different. The gear lever was mounted on the steering wheel in the same place, and the brake and gas pedals matched. With a nod, she whispered, “Don’t panic. You can do this.”
Her hands shaking, she grasped the wheel and shifted into reverse. The car lurched backwards. She slammed the brake pedal, whipping her body with the momentum. The chess pieces stayed in place as if riveted to the table.
She slapped the steering wheel and buried her face in her hands. Tears flowed. No! She couldn’t do this! Micaela was dead. Her best friend. Her only friend. How could she go on like nothing happened?
Another beep sounded. Lauren peeked between her fingers and read the text. “I give you five seconds to mourn. If you do not continue following my instructions, you will weep at your parents’ graves.”
Lauren lowered her hands. A shadow passed over the car, momentarily blocking the moon. Ducking her head, she shifted to drive and sent the limo over the curb, onto the sidewalk, then back down to level pavement. Again, the chess pieces remained steady.
As the car’s bouncing eased, she looked out the windshield for the huge bird that must have flown low overhead, but nothing came into sight. It had to be something big, something quiet, maybe an owl. No airplane could have flown that low without making a huge racket.
After she turned onto the school’s long access road, the phone beeped again. She read the message, her thumb on the scroll button. “You will proceed to Route 180 until you receive further instructions from me.”
Lauren slowed at a yield sign, turned onto the county road leading to the highway, and accelerated to the speed limit. She again glanced at the moonlit sky. This mutant creature, whoever he was, must be able to see her every move. How could she do anything but follow his instructions?
She reached into her bag and withdrew her wallet. After flipping it open, she thumbed to the photo of herself with her new parents. Posing in front of the Orpheum Theatre, she stood between Mom and Dad. She and Mom had dressed up country style for a bluegrass concert, while Dad wore his usual long-sleeved shirt and tie. He wouldn’t be caught dead in flannel and overalls.
New tears trickled down her cheeks. What would they think when she didn’t show up tonight? After hearing about Micaela’s death, they would worry themselves sick. Well, at least Mom would. Dad might grumble a few I-told-you-so’s about letting their daughter play sports, but it would just be a cover-up for what really bothered him. After Mom settled his ranting, he would probably go to his study and cry. He did that a lot lately, ever since Mom’s most recent cancer report.
Lauren wiped the tears away. Mom and Dad weren’t perfect, but they were all she had. And it wasn’t so bad that she was really a replacement for the daughter they lost to a drunk driver. They were kind and always willing to talk, sometimes late into the night, and the only thing they ever argued about was Dad’s habit of drinking too much diet soda, and they never raised their voices.
And now? Now they wouldn’t have any more talks. With a murderous mutant sending her to who-knows-where, she might never see Mom and Dad again. She would return to being an orphan. Micaela would never be Barbara Cratchit. It seemed that every time something good came along in her life, something terrible happened to destroy it.
After driving on Route 180 for what seemed like an hour, the shadow returned, drifting overhead. Lauren bent down to look up through the windshield, but a sudden bump sounded from the rear. She glanced back. A panel of lights in the ceiling illuminated the compartment, still empty and quiet. One of the white pawns had moved two spaces forward and sat perfectly still at the center of its new square.
She whipped her head toward the front. The tingling sensation zipped up and down her back, worse than ever. Sucking in quick, shallow breaths, she whispered to herself, “This has to be the most vivid nightmare in history. I’ll wake up soon, right? Whenever you figure out that a dream is really a dream, that means you’re about to wake up.”
“It’s not a dream, Lauren.”
A jolt ripped through her body, locking her fingers around the steering wheel. Her throat clamped shut. Even the scream that pushed up fr
om her chest couldn’t get out.
The phone beeped again. The text read, “If you want to see me, turn around.”
Shaking her head hard, she squeaked, “I don’t think so. I … I have to drive.”
“Come now, Lauren.” The voice carried a smooth tone, emanating from the backseat instead of from her skin. Every word seemed spiced with a hum, almost as if sung. “If you are trying to tell me that you are too diligent to avert your eyes, I will have to disbelieve you. I saw you trying to find me when I flew over.”
She swallowed. “Flew over?”
“Yes. I am an angel.”
Holding her breath, she adjusted the rearview mirror until a dark form appeared in the reflection. Humanlike, he leaned over the chessboard. A pair of wings stretched out behind him, taking up much of the seating space in the rear before folding in and vanishing.
“This is an intriguing game,” he said as he touched one of the ravens. “I heard that an old friend of mine used to play it, so I have been learning the moves.”
Lauren churned inside. This so-called angel killed Micaela! And now he calmly sat in the back, chatting about chess as if nothing ever happened. Swallowing again, she managed to loosen her throat. “How … how could an angel kill a girl? That’s murder!”
The creature looked at the mirror. His stare locked on hers. Pale and narrow, his face gave away no signs of gender, and his hair, jet black with tight curls, looked unearthly.
“Are you a religious girl?” he asked, his telltale hum continuing long after the last word.
Lauren broke away from the stare and looked at the road. “I go to church with my parents. At least we used to go until my mother got sick.”
“Oh, yes, the cancer. I heard about that. What a pity.” A clinking sound rose from the back, as if the creature had knocked two chess pieces together. “I asked, because I wondered if you ever read the Bible. It is filled with stories of angels killing people, even innocent souls, in order to bring about an intended purpose. You might remember the story about an angel killing thousands because King David numbered the people. They did nothing at all to deserve that fate, yet the angel killed them just the same.”
Lauren drew a mental image of her church’s youth group leader, an ex–football player who knew a lot about the Bible. He told the story of King David one time, but the details now seemed sketchy. “That sounds familiar.”
“Then why are you surprised that I would send Micaela’s soul to God? Because of your stubborn refusal to obey me, I had to carry out my promise in order to get you to acquiesce.”
A sick feeling burned in Lauren’s stomach. Knowingly or not, she had a role in her best friend’s death, and now she was trapped. “Acquiesce? To what? Where are you taking me?”
“Actually, you are taking me. I have not bothered to learn how to drive, so this seemed to be the best idea. It was a simple matter to persuade the limousine owner to leave the vehicle at the school. Apparently he loves his wife dearly.”
She glared at the angel through the mirror. “Then why didn’t you get him to drive you? Why did you have to kidnap me and kill Micaela?”
“I needed you, not just a driver.” He pointed at a sign indicating an upcoming junction. “Turn left and continue until I tell you to stop.”
Lauren guided the limo onto a dirt road, so dark the edges were almost invisible. Fortunately, no headlights loomed in the distance, so maybe she could drive near the middle.
As pebbles crunched under the tires, she studied her surroundings. A lack of streetlights allowed her to see well into the moonlit fields and rolling hills, but no buildings stood anywhere in sight. This lonely stretch of road seemed to be a perfect place for a murder, or worse.
As she continued driving, she glanced between the road and the mirror. The mutant moved the black pieces on his side of the board, and the white pieces moved on their own in response. Humming as he whispered, he seemed to be communicating with an imaginary opponent. With fear and anxiety once again raising her antenna, his words amplified in her ears.
“Your spies were correct about her. She has the traits we are looking for.”
A new voice entered her mind, this one feminine and quiet. “A blood sample will prove who she is. Once we test her abilities, we will soon learn if she can retrieve what you covet.”
Lauren kept her face slack. No need to let the mutant know she was listening to the conversation. But what could it all mean? She was driving a stretch limo out in the middle of nowhere, while an angel played chess with an invisible woman in the back. The situation was crazier than any nightmare.
“In the meantime,” the mutant continued, “I will keep the other two until they can be tested. They might yet prove useful.”
“Yes. My son and I will help you with that.”
“I hope so. I paid a great price for your freedom.”
She laughed softly. “A great price? Hardly. Elam won’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t even realize who resides there.”
“Perhaps. In any case, your son has already demonstrated his technical expertise. I hope you can prove your worth as well. The art of deception is not so easily measured.”
A white Don Quixote knight rose by itself and settled two rows forward and one square to the side. “I will prove my worth, but we must quell the rattling sabers of war. Ever since Elam and Sapphira closed and locked the portal, our abilities have been … well … limited. We cannot be restored until they reopen it.”
“It is a simple matter.” The mutant advanced his own knight. “Everything is falling into place. Soon, they will gladly open a portal.”
The white king castled with a rook. “With all the hatred toward dragons?” the woman asked. “The leaders of the religious rabble have incited so much fear, the politicians are all too ready to please the masses. The treaty is fragile, but it’s the only reason there is peace now. If Earth’s warning systems detect a portal opening, missiles will fly.”
The mutant slid a raven-topped bishop toward the middle of the table and captured a white pawn. The little peasant boy and his scrub brush vanished without a trace. “You underestimate Queen Sapphira and the dragons. While it is difficult to create a new portal, with the proper incentive, they will do it, and the powers here will never know it exists. I think my plan will provide the incentive Second Eden requires. They will invade with a small but powerful force, so you will need more men and equipment than are currently working at the compound.”
“We have called for reinforcements, but they won’t come unless an invasion is actually underway. In fact, with all the false alarms, they are talking about removing the men and tanks we have there now. After all, the lure has been there for fifteen years.”
“Are you saying that you will be unable to defend the facility?” he asked.
“Of course not. My son’s defenses will keep the invaders at bay until reinforcements arrive.”
“I hope so. It would be a shame if your body were to taste flames only moments after your restoration. In any case, my plan looks far beyond the goal of opening a portal.”
The white queen rose into the air and twirled as it hovered, first in one direction, then in the other. “As does mine. After you find your prize, I trust that you will keep your promise.”
“Fear not. If I find the prize, I will be quite pleased to reward you. The song hunter will be yours. I trust that you will use her more expeditiously than you did Shachar.”
The woman’s tone grew agitated. “I had only one scale. Just one. I drained every drop of restoration it had. It was Morgan who wasted her supply. Every time she felt her precious beauty being drained, she wrapped herself in a cocoon and drank from the vial until she finally ran out. If I had access to as many scales as she did, I wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”
“Your anger is understandable. I was unaware of your lack of supply. This time, you will have abundance, skin instead of scales.”
“Excellent
.” Her voice settled. “But even if the little darling is able to find what you seek, will you be able to keep it?”
“There are ways to secure it. I am not worried.” The mutant glanced at the mirror and smiled. “Seeing that our driver has already noticed your ghostly antics,” he said in a louder voice, “you might as well show yourself.”
Lauren kept her stare on the mirror. In the seat opposite the mutant, a woman materialized, the white queen spinning between her thumb and finger. Wearing a red dress, cloak, and hood, she bore smooth skin and bright eyes, making her appear to be in her twenties or thirties.
The right front tire slid off the road. Lauren jerked it back. Her hands trembling, she slowed the limo to a crawl. “Who … who are you?”
“I am Semiramis, and this angel is Tamiel.” The woman lowered her hood. Her auburn hair shone under the ceiling lights. “Do not be frightened. We have no intention of harming you. If you cooperate with us, all will be well.”
Like a geyser, Lauren’s emotions erupted. “All will be well? Like for Micaela? Like for my parents if I don’t do whatever this mutant angel tells me to do? He’s a murderer! A devil!” As tears flowed, her body shook violently, and her voice rattled. “Don’t tell me all will be well! It’s not well! My best friend is dead!”
Semiramis glanced at Tamiel before continuing. “You sent your friend a message before the explosion. Perhaps she escaped.”
Lauren stabbed a finger at the mirror. “He texted something about Micaela’s burning body.”
“She was in the flaming car,” Tamiel said. “I did not stay to verify her death or survival. A possibility exists that someone rescued her.”
Lauren punched the radio’s power button and tuned through a bunch of static-filled channels until she found a news station. A slow-talking man droned through the speakers, rattling off current events. Apparently war tensions had renewed. Yesterday, the King of Second Eden sent an ambassador from Earth home without comment. The temporary opening of the portal had already put every military power in the world on high alert, but the story the ambassador told when he returned to the UN made the situation worse. He claimed that he saw Queen Sapphira wearing a battle uniform while riding a dragon in what appeared to be fighting maneuvers.
