by Beth Martin
He stumbled back against the computer panels. The center of his vision grew dark, and he concentrated on remaining conscious. Now was not the time to give up.
“Stop emergency protocol and disable security,” she commanded.
His thoughts were racing, trying to come up with his next move. He glanced down and saw dark red leaking through between his fingers. He pressed his hands down harder on the wound, struggling to think. She had the upper hand—and a knife.
“This is for killing my father!” He turned quickly to see Leona standing with a firearm clasped in both hands, trained at Tina’s chest. Her hands shook as her finger slowly squeezed the trigger. Before he could react, a shot rang out, the sound deafeningly loud.
Tina crumpled to the floor. Leona dropped the gun, her entire body shaking. Roemell dropped to his knees, his own blood loss making his body weak. He watched as a puddle of bright red liquid spread along the floor from underneath Tina.
“Computer,” Leona said, her voice shaky, “get help.” She rushed up to Roemell. He wasn’t able to stay up and longer, and collapsed onto the floor. She pressed her hand over his, adding pressure to his wound. When he looked up at her, tears were flowing down her face. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
The next few days passed in a blur. Leona remembered a fleet of androids rushing into the emergency shelter and removing all three injured people. She recalled waking up in a dark medical facility surrounded by temporary walls of plastic sheeting and seeing a body bag, but not knowing if it was for Tina or Roemell.
At some point, an android questioned her on why exactly she had been at the VanStraten Estate, and later, Mr. VanStraten sat next to her asking the same questions.
Days and nights melted together as her body recovered from extreme fatigue, dehydration, and extensive burns. Most of the skin on her legs had burned away without her even noticing.
The first thing she could remember clearly was waking up in a room with large windows, the sunlight pouring in between white, gauzy curtains. She laid on a soft mattress in what looked like a typical bedroom. When she tried to sit up, a robot positioned in the corner of the room instructed her to lay back down.
She turned her head to see the robot, which resembled a woman and wore all white. “I’ll let them know you’re awake,” the android said before getting up and leaving the room.
Leona glanced down at her shoulder. Her olive skin was patched with pearly white synthetic grafts. She lifted the comforter to look down at the rest of her body, but heard someone approaching and quickly smoothed the blanket back down.
“I hear that you’re responsible for saving my estate,” a slender young woman said as she entered the room. Her pale skin was covered in specks of glitter. She had long, strawberry-blond hair and wore an elegant light pink dress. Leona figured the woman was the oldest VanStraten daughter. She took a seat at the foot of Leona’s bed. “So, thank you.”
“What happened?” Leona asked.
She leaned forward a bit, her stare making Leona slightly uncomfortable. “I should be asking you that.”
Leona swallowed hard. What she really wanted to know was how Roemell was doing.
“The bullet wound on the other woman went clean through her shoulder, causing minimal damage. She’s already recovered and doing well, although to be honest, I kind of wish she hadn’t made it. She actually claimed that you were the terrorist, but the security feed told a different story. Since we no longer have a place where we could hold her, she’s being transported to the detention facility at the capital.”
Leona’s heart squeezed in her chest. If Tina had made it, then the body bag must have been for…
“My sisters and I were in the main house when it caught fire. We wouldn’t have gotten out alive if the sprinklers hadn’t kicked it. One more minute and I don’t think any of us would have made it.”
A hot tear rolled down Leona’s cheek, followed by another. She felt like she had nothing left to live for. Maybe she should have died in the fire.
The other woman was teary eyed as well. “My grandmother didn’t make it. She died of smoke inhalation.” She wiped away a tear with a delicate hand.
Perhaps the body bag Leona had seen was for the grandmother. Her heart beat faster at the shred of hope. “How is Roemell? Is he alive?”
“Is that your companion’s name?”
Leona nodded.
“He’s recovering. He lost a lot of blood. I guess the cut perforated his bowel, which required emergency surgery.”
“Can I see him?”
She gave Leona a half smile. “I guess. My father wanted me to tell you thank you, and that you’re welcome to stay until your injuries heal.” Next, she addressed the robot which had returned to the seat in the corner. “Help Leona visit the young man in the next room.” She stood up and gave a brief curtsy before exiting the room.
The android stood and pushed the chair it had been sitting on next to the bed. “Take a seat here and I’ll wheel you into the next room. Slowly, now. You may find your body feels weaker than usual.”
Leona carefully sat up and pulled the comforter aside. Her legs looked alarming, resembling milky plastic. They also felt surprisingly heavy as she scooted them over the side of the bed. The bot held an arm around her torso and helped her slide from the bed onto the chair.
Instead of legs, the chair had large wheels. The android began pushing the chair. “Wait,” she said. “Can I have a blanket or something to cover my legs?”
“Of course.” The robot grabbed an extra blanket from underneath the bed and handed it to Leona. She carefully spread the fabric over her legs. The look of the new skin was jarring, and she didn’t want her appearance upsetting Roemell.
“Where are we?” she asked as the machine wheeled her across the room and out the door into a hallway.
“This is the hotel facility for the family’s guests. Mr. VanStraten wanted to provide a more comfortable place to recover than the medical facility.” Leona’s family had never had enough visitors to warrant having a hotel facility. Occasionally, a man interested in courting her would visit overnight, but there had been the guest room next to hers where they could stay. She figured with three daughters, the family probably entertained many more guests.
The robot opened the door to the next room and pushed Leona inside. This room was also decked out in white fabrics. Her eyes went immediately to the bed. Roemell’s black hair was combed neatly to the side, but his face was unnaturally pale. Next to the bed was a small framed picture, the drawing she had made of Ivan. It was a little crumpled and dirty, but the image was still clear.
She could feel her heart leap out of her chest and wished she could jump up from her chair and run over to him. The best she could do was sit up a little straighter. The bot rolled her right up to the side of his bed.
“Roemell,” she said softly.
His eyes opened, and he blinked a few times. Relief flooded through her body as his green eyes focused on her face. “Hey.”
She wanted to be strong for him, to show him that she was all right. Instead, tears poured from her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
With the bot’s help, she lifted herself from the chair and climbed onto the bed. She no longer cared about how strange her legs looked. All that mattered was feeling his arms wrapped around her.
He nuzzled his nose into her short hair while she breathed in slowly, taking in his scent. There was nowhere else she would rather be.
• • •
Roemell looked back at the enormous building one last time. He had enjoyed the comfortable setting for the week they were there, knowing that his plush surroundings would be temporary.
Even though the eldest daughter, Giovanna, had expressed gratitude to the pair for literally saving her family’s lives and livelihood, it was clear she wanted to quickly settle whatever debt Roemell and Leona were owed, then get rid of them.
Initially, Mr. VanStraten had offered the pair a vehicle and multipu
rpose android as a thank you. Before Leona was able to accept, Roemell insisted on different terms if the wealthy man actually wanted to help.
Instead of a vehicle which relied on regular access to fuel or electrical charging stations, he asked for a pair of bicycles, enough food for the journey, a couple chickens, and a variety of seeds. He wanted enough supplies to start over at the Poole Estate, but not so much that they wouldn’t be able to tow it all with their new bikes.
No one would talk to Roemell about the details of the aftermath from the attack, but Leona had been able to get one of the daughters to open up about it. Antonia Patel had made it to the East Coast, where she awaited trial for her crimes. She was looking at a possible long prison sentence for the destruction of the two estates which could be definitively linked to her.
Leona pedaled ahead of Roemell, following the winding drive through the fields and past the sprawling golf course. Even though it was warm out, she wore long sleeves and long pants. She seemed self-conscious about the pale skin grafts. The fair color would have matched any of the VanStraten clan, but stood out on Leona’s darker complexion. He didn’t care how they looked—he was just thrilled she was alive, had made a full recovery, and was healthy.
He strained to keep up. The cart carrying their supplies was attached to the back of his bike. There was also a child seat attached directly behind his own. Mr. Vanstraten had raised his eyebrows at that particular request, but had ultimately acquiesced. Roemell was itching to go back for Ivan.
The trip south was easy, with mostly flat terrain. They took the main road which followed the coast. Since the bikes were much faster than walking, the journey which normally took almost all day on foot was complete before the sun set.
He followed Leona to the main entrance. “We can camp in the shelter or the larger courtyard,” she said. “I’ll let you pick.”
“I never want to see the inside of an emergency shelter ever again.”
She chuckled and continued to the front of what was left of the main house. The sun was low in the sky, making the wispy clouds glow a warm orange. Propping her bike up against the side of the house, she walked to the front door. There, a white rectangle of paper was stuck to the door frame next to where the large wooden doors had been. She grabbed the letter and tore it open, reading over the contents.
Roemell left his bike along with the cart of supplies on the walkway and jogged up the steps to the covered porch. He came up right behind her and asked, “What is that?”
Her hands were clenched in tight fists as she held the letter. “We’re fucked. That’s what.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she shoved the letter into his hands. As he looked down at the page, she walked away from the door and onto the lawn.
The letter stated:
To Miss Leona Poole:
As the current benefactor of Estate Plot 192, you are responsible for payment of estate property taxes. (Tax code 32.1.3) Since previous attempts to settle the balance of taxes owed have been ignored, your land has been seized by the federal government. Please vacate Estate Plot 192 by May 1st or else you will be forcibly removed.
“Shit,” he said under his breath. He set the note down on her bicycle seat before walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.
She began to cry, hiding her face against his chest. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure something out.” He kissed the top of her head. “If I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that you’re tough. Nothing can keep Leona Poole down.”
She actually laughed for a second. “I’ll need your help.” The sun dipped below the horizon, making the sky a rainbow of reds and yellows. When she looked up at his face, her tears glistened in the low light.
He placed a hand on her cheek and guided her face to his, kissing her softly. “I’m all yours.”
Although this is the end of In the Lurch,
Roemell and Leona’s story continues
in the next installment
IN THE MIDST
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for reading my novel! Please consider leaving a review to let me and others know what you thought. To keep up to date with my writing and new releases, sign up for my newsletter at join-now.BethMartinBooks.com.
First of all, I have to thank my husband who encouraged me to scrap a project that brought me no joy and start working on my shiny new idea. I spent way to much time flip-flopping, but he remained patient with my craziness and has been supportive of all my writing endeavors.
As always, I have to say a big thank you to my amazing editor, Josiah Davis. I’m incredibly grateful for the open line of communication and advice on everything publishing related.
I received a ton of helpful feedback on the cover from Nathan Shumate and the rest of the crew at CoverCritics.com. Their input has been incredibly valuable for a few of my book covers now, giving me the confidence to put out the best product I can.
I want to give a big thank-you to my parents, who are always the first to purchase copies of my novels. I’m incredibly lucky that they’re both readers, and they enjoy my books. Not a lot of writers are fortunate enough to have family that will read their work.
Also, I’d like to thank the Columbia Writers. They have been so wonderful and supportive. I always get such constructive critiques from them, and I have loved reading all the stories they’ve shared.
My biggest thanks goes to you, my readers. You’re the ones who’ve made my dream of becoming an author come true.
Other novels by
Beth Martin
At Fault
Mental Contact
Quality DNA
The End of Refuge
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Copyright © 2018 Beth Martin
Cover design by Beth Martin. Robot image by Ociacia/Shutterstock.com. Fire texture by Olga Miltsova/Shuttertock.com.
Chapter heading font by John Bloor.
ISBN: 978-1987792256
Beth Martin Books
PO Box 2191
Columbia, MD 21045
BethMartinBooks.com
