IENDE Read online

  Listening to the waves from the other side of the barred window, she felt rested, as rested as she had felt in a long time. She rubbed her neck to find her knot was gone. This situation, like her knot, was temporary. She would be okay, for she had options. Then she could return home with a new appreciation for the simple life she’d enjoyed before this all started.

  It was 8 a.m. on Wednesday. There was a gentle knock at the door.

  “Breakfast,” Bosco said.

  She could hear him unlock the door from the outside. “Give me a minute, please.” She sat up and the silky sheets caressed her body, causing a mild arousal.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. The sheets smelled of lavender, another simple comfort. She approached the dresser. There were clean panties inside, her size, as well as other clothing. She wondered how they’d gotten her size right. Having showered the night before, she felt fresh. She loved being there as much as she hated the circumstances.

  Where was Kyle, though? What happened to him? And Victor? Her feeling of peace faded. She was a prisoner with an unknown future, and her only companion through it all had abandoned her.

  She thought of Mr. Sands’ proposal, which he had finally presented over brandy the evening before. His argument had been compelling. If she agreed to help to get the secret from Victor, she’d be free to live life as she pleased. Mr. Sands had promised freedom for Kyle too. But did he really matter at that point?

  Mr. Sands had said that with the application of Victor’s knowledge, humanity would still exist and thrive as it always had—more so, and the world would be happier. To be activated would be no different than taking pills for anxiety or depression, was how Mr. Sands had described it. But she didn’t trust him. She was sure he would frame his proposal any way he wanted to get her to agree, but that reality would be a different story. If any of this was even real to begin with. But if he was right?

  Kyle would tell her to look at the odds.

  In the best case, she would escape without agreeing to anything, and simply return to her life. But people would still be trying to activate the Dames. And sooner or later, it would happen, unless somehow the Dames could be destroyed. Maybe she would agree to help, but in the end help to destroy the Dames. And if destruction wasn’t possible, then freedom wasn’t such a bad prospect, if the Dames were just a mild drug to keep people docile. If it happened, it happened. But there was more of a chance it wouldn’t if she didn’t help Mr. Sands. And surely there was a chance that the Dames could be destroyed.

  She realized she had a decision. She would agree to Mr. Sands’ proposal, but she wouldn’t deliver on it.

  Bosco had walked her to her room after dinner, asking her about herself, being polite, courteous. If she could gain his trust . . . But on the other hand, he had been nice to her, seemingly genuine. Did she really want to become the kind of person who used people?

  She got dressed and opened the door. Bosco’s face flushed a little and he looked down as he stepped aside for her to pass. Their eyes met. Bosco seemed more infatuated with each interaction.

  “You sleep okay?” he said.

  Bosco was as naïve as Kyle. “I did. Wonderful, actually.”

  She and Bosco made their way to the breakfast table where Mr. Sands was waiting with the others. He bid them good morning.

  Rachael eyed Remmie as she took her seat. Eli looked as if he’d never left the table after dinner—aloof, watching the ocean. But he appeared rested. Anthony’s face had taken a turn for the worse, displaying the topography of the Ozarks and the color mix of stained glass. He was playing with his napkin. Tommy and Rich had the demeanor of Stalin-era Soviet soldiers.

  Bosco pulled out a chair for Remmie and took the seat next to her. She could feel Bosco’s gaze repeatedly find her.

  A familiar face emerged from the kitchen holding a serving tray—Jack. Remmie had figured he was away looking for Victor and Kyle. And what happened to Marie? Jack served them eggs Benedict, something Remmie loved but rarely ate because she thought it was unhealthy.

  “Please eat, enjoy,” Mr. Sands said to Remmie. “We have a long day of travel ahead of us.”

  Travel? She felt her hands go numb. “What do you mean? Where are we going?”

  “You, Eli, Bosco, Tommy, and myself will be taking a little road trip to Mexico. Anthony too.” Mr. Sands spoke as if he were announcing the next stop on the vacation train.

  “Mexico?” The numbness in her hands spread to her legs and her heart felt like it was pumping in reverse, an attempt to run backward in time. Somehow, she had felt safe for the time being, with a plan. But to go out of the country? That was another level of serious. How could she escape and get home? Would Mr. Sands make good on his proposition, which was now sounding like the only option? Or was he just lying to get her to betray Victor?

  “I won’t go—I can’t,” she said. “I don’t have a passport.”

  “You won’t need it, and I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice.” Mr. Sands took a generous bite of his eggs Benedict.

  “What about Rachael, the others? You didn’t mention them.”

  “We have no need of them down there,” Mr. Sands said.

  Why was Rachael staying? And why wasn’t Jack out looking for Victor? Something was going on.

  Anthony looked at her, smug, egg yolk dribbling from his chin, like he was excited and didn’t give a shit.

  “We’ll be leaving in a couple of hours,” Bosco said. “It’s okay. It’s a nice place like this, but safer.”

  “I apologize,” Mr. Sands said, “but Tommy and I discussed this earlier. We’ll be leaving after breakfast. It’s too much of a risk to spend more time here than necessary.”

  Bosco’s and Tommy’s eyes met, and Bosco sunk into his chair, looking slighted. Perhaps a sibling rivalry of sorts? There was something childlike in their relationship to Mr. Sands.

  Mr. Sands said to Remmie, “You may gather a few things from your room, things you’d like to wear. But you’ll have everything you need where we’re going.”

  She thought of leaping from her chair and sprinting to the beach, where she’d start swimming until she sunk to the bottom. She wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow weakness to prevail. She had to be strong, smart, to survive.

  “No need to worry,” Bosco said. “You’ll be safe. It’s all okay. I promise.”

  His soft delivery almost comforted her. Almost. She twitched as he gently touched her shoulder.

  Eli didn’t even stir at Mr. Sands’ mention of Mexico. He picked at his breakfast, his face contemplative.

  Mr. Sands said to Remmie, “Your life is about to take a turn. You decide if it’s for the better or the worse. It really is just a matter of perspective.” He took another bite of his breakfast.

  The table became silent as everyone ate. Bosco quickly devoured his eggs Benedict.

  “I’d like to excuse myself to gather my things,” Bosco said.

  “Please, wait for everyone to finish,” Mr. Sands said. “There’s time, and I apologize for not informing you of the change of plan before breakfast. As soon as Remmie finishes, I’d like you to help her gather her things as well.”

  Bosco seemed agitated at that. Remmie pushed her plate forward, unable to stomach eating.

  “I suggest you eat,” Mr. Sands said, in a forceful manner. He pressed his napkin to his lips. “It’ll be a long ride, and there won’t be time for another meal until we arrive.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  KYLE RUBBED HIS chilled arms, goose bumps sprouting like new beginnings, weeds that smothered the intended, the familiar. He fought to get sleep, but his long afternoon nap, coupled with an anxious mind, put an end to any prospect of rest. He visualized his apartment, his warm bed. He wished it had all been a dream, except the Remmie part.

  But did he really wish it were all a dream? No. He was changing, his world was growing larger. Perhaps it was the weeds of complacency, of an empty existence, that was being smothered. It
felt like he was awakening from a long sleep.

  He glanced out the window as they passed a sign that said “Oceanpier – pop 2017.” Victor pulled off to the side of the road behind some vegetation. It was 9 a.m.

  “You ready?” Victor said.

  Samuel held up his gun. He was still wearing his red dress, little goops of mascara under his eyes. “I need to fix my makeup first.”

  He and Victor laughed like they were on their fifth pitcher at a bowling alley. They seemed too relaxed, overconfident. Kyle thought of the house in Nevada and the slot machine building in Vegas. Things could have easily swung the other way in either of those situations. The odds had not been in their favor. Perhaps it was time the outcome did swing the other way—the bad way.

  But no, he couldn’t allow his mind to consider that possibility. He didn’t know what was about to go down but his icy limbs thawed at the prospect of seeing Remmie—knowing that she might be close by. Besides, Victor and Samuel were both badasses. Maybe the odds had been in their favor back in Vegas. Perhaps the luck of Vegas had followed them to Oceanpier.

  “We need to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Victor said. “From satellite photos, the beach house backs right up to the ocean. Dunes flank the rest of the property. They’ll never expect us in broad daylight.” Victor cocked his gun. “They won’t see this coming.”

  “How will we know they’re all in there, or where they are in there?” Kyle was realizing that being on the offensive was a different game than defense. “Somebody could get hurt, accidently.”

  “From the records online, I’ve indirectly traced the property to Mr. Sands. And Anthony’s there—the bug is. I can’t imagine they would have split everyone up. Either way, we’re going in. We’ll approach from the beach.”

  Samuel’s gaze caught Kyle’s, communicating something . . . hesitation. Could Samuel share his concerns? Kyle bit his lower lip in the pattern of the Dames.

  “You worried about Remmie?” Victor said. “They won’t hurt us. They need us. And we have an advantage—they don’t know we’re coming.”

  “No, they need you, Victor,” Kyle said. “They don’t need me, and they don’t need Samuel. And if they’ve got you, they don’t need Remmie either.”

  Odds entered Kyle’s thinking again. This was a big house. How could it possibly work? Would they just waltz up to the back window in broad daylight? Victor hadn’t anticipated those guys at the Cherry Obelisk coming in or Mr. Sands showing up at the house in Nevada or Bosco showing up at the warehouse. Victor didn’t anticipate any of it. Kyle was starting to wonder how Victor had survived for so long.

  Kyle hesitated but finally let the words out. “I don’t think this is going to work. What if something goes wrong? We need a backup plan. What if they’re expecting us? You said yourself that it was almost as if they were luring us in.”

  “It’s the nature of the game.” Victor’s demeanor was wavering. “We have enemies all around us. I think we’ve done pretty good so far, considering. But this is different. This time we’re the ones on the offensive.”

  “I agree with Kyle,” Samuel said.

  “What?” Victor stared off toward a palm tree, pensive, his hands kneading the steering wheel.

  “You’re so damned anxious to get in there, get Eli.” Samuel’s tone was like a dad scolding a teenager. “You’re not thinking clearly. And Kyle’s right, they don’t need me or him. I have an idea. I’ve been thinking about this since we left Vegas. They don’t know me.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’ll go to the front door, get myself inside. You and Kyle take the car along the beach. There’ll surely be cameras.” Samuel was contemplative as he spoke. “I’ll text you when it’s go time. I can voice activate sending the text.”

  “And we do what?” Victor said.

  “I boxed for ten years before my current gig. And”—he tapped his red purse—“I’m armed. When I text you, you’re going to put the car through the back window.”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to drive the car into the living room. We know how it’s laid out. The floorplan is open—living area, dining area, under a wall of windows. And the deck . . . it’s like a ramp.”

  “What if he runs somebody over, like Remmie?” Kyle said.

  “Nobody will be in harm’s way,” Samuel said. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Kyle was imagining the scene, thinking Samuel’s idea was as crazy as Victor’s plan of showing up and improvising.

  “You are backup,” Samuel said. “I’ll get their attention. Then you and Vick will turn the back of the house into a drive-thru. Vick will enter first. After all, he’s the one who’s supposed to live. You follow, in case something goes wrong. You have a gun.”

  “You want me to drive through—” Victor said.

  “You won’t be in the car,” Samuel said. “You ever watch Lara Stilltrot?”

  “Look, I don’t have time for that shit. I’ve been dealing with aliens, conspiracies, shit like that for real. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay, I get it.” Samuel pointed toward a pile of retaining wall blocks off the side of the road ahead. “We’ll use one of those. Just aim the car in the right direction. Tie the steering wheel with twine. Drop a block on the gas. Don’t assume the starting position until I text you that I’m at the door.”

  “This is the craziest thing,” Victor said. “It’ll never work. What if the car—”

  “It’s no crazier than your suggestion that we do . . . what exactly? Burst through the back window with guns blazing and that flash grenade?”

  “Why are you doing this with us, putting yourself at risk?”

  “I have Malclenersy, same as you. And I really screwed up back at the Cherry Obelisk, those guys. I can’t go back there. And I want what you want. I have since I’ve known the truth.”

  Victor said to Kyle, “You okay with this?”

  Kyle did feel okay, or at least, he felt better about it. “Sounds better than your plan. The odds are better,” Kyle attempted to smile. He figured they would probably be captured, but he had a good feeling because either way he’d be with Remmie. Then the word “grenade” finally registered in his brain. “Flash grenade?”

  Victor pulled an object out of his backpack, a black cylinder with three circles on either side and what looked like a key ring hanging from the top. He smiled a gangster smile.

  “What does that do?” Kyle said. “Where’d you get it?”

  Victor motioned to Samuel. “I got it from him. It stuns.”

  Kyle tried to flush his chaotic thoughts. He knew he had no choice but to stop thinking and just do.

  “Looks like the plan is set,” Samuel said. “Let’s head out.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  VICTOR VEERED THE Mercedes right, onto a turnoff with access to the beach. Kyle thought Victor had the focus of a scientist handling plutonium. They had left Samuel to approach the house on foot. Kyle was gripping his thighs, his muscles tensed, his mind a pendulum swinging between selfless valor and cowardice. He so wanted to be at home, at his secure apartment watching Lara Stilltrot. He didn’t want to be Lara Stilltrot. But he wouldn’t abandon Remmie, and he realized it was more than simple attraction to a pretty girl. It was empathy, and a selfless instinct to protect another being from pain as he would want to be protected. Was that love?

  Victor stopped alongside the overgrown dunes that flanked the house. Kyle looked up, and there was the ocean. His anxiety, his empty void of self-doubt, was pulled away by the tide. Kyle had never seen the ocean in person. He wanted to run to the shore, leap into the water and float, forget. In the shadow of the vast waters, his troubles suddenly felt small, insignificant, ridiculous.

  “Its beauty never dulls,” Victor said. “Like every time you see it is like the first time.”

  Kyle watched the water. “I’m glad I’m seeing this. I don’t know when—if—I would have otherwise, wa
sting away life in my apartment. Even though I know it’s going to cost me.”

  “What you consider a price is as much a gift as the natural beauty of this ocean. We’re gonna be okay. Your girl is gonna be okay. We can do this. And then we’re gonna fix the world. You and me.” Victor was calm, an unbreakable foundation on which to stand. He reached out his hand.

  Kyle clasped Victor’s hand. His crushing grip imparted to Kyle a sea of courage, and Kyle was reminded of a documentary he had once seen, about solidarity among soldiers. He got that now. He was a small but indispensable part of a greater system, the opposite system to the one subtly attempting to impose its will on humanity. Like two giants grappling for control of the planet. As his eyes returned to the ocean, odds again entered his thinking. But the odds didn’t matter anymore. He was doing this, and doing it with his whole heart.

  Victor’s phone vibrated. It was a text. Samuel was at the door to the house. Kyle felt a lump form in his throat, forcing a hiccup. His courage backrushed with the tide.

  Victor inched the car to where the dunes gave way to open beach and then turned the wheel south. The house came into view. He angled the car, aiming it toward the deck, which had a wide ramp that pushed into the sand.

  “So it begins,” Victor said.

  He ran a long snow scraper and a folding shovel through the steering wheel and rested them on the dash. Then he jammed their butt ends into the seat. He dropped one of the retaining wall blocks onto the contraption. “I hope this is tight enough to keep her straight on this wobbly sand.” Victor moved another retaining wall block in front of the gas pedal.