She couldn’t support this sort of behavior any longer. He’d always been impulsive, but when they’d gotten married, it’d been a sexy, interesting trait. She’d liked that he was a take-charge sort of man who didn’t back down. Now, it was tiresome. She had to live with the consequences of his decisions day in and day out. To survive in the modern world, a man couldn’t be totally a man. And Jim didn’t get that. And he never would.
In a way, it as if Jim wasn’t made for this modern world. He would have done well in the old West, in the gun slinging times, if those weren’t just a modern creation by the film industry.
He would have done well as a caveman. He would have been able to turn on that semi-savage survival instinct. He would have been able to do what was necessary.
But now, in the modern world, he couldn’t accept that he was just a cog in the machine. He couldn’t make that mental leap that was required by the modern man.
He always wanted to do things his own way. He always wanted to do what made sense to him, even if it clashed with the way things were supposed to be done.
Aly took a couple deep breaths and concentrated on exhaling slowly. She felt herself start to calm down a little.
There was nothing she could do.
She’d just have to go along with it.
Let Jim take her in the car.
She’d be able to explain everything later to the police, to the judge, to her lawyer, and whoever was involved.
But when Jim came back ten minutes later, with only the beam of his flashlight visible, she found her calmness evaporating. Her heart started to pound again.
She’d give it one last attempt. One last attempt to convince him that what he was doing was wrong.
“Jim,” she said, over the clatter of steel keys, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Just listen to me, Jim. You’re going to get in a lot of trouble. If you unlock that door, you’re going to get arrested. And you’re going to lose the computer shop. You know how much that shop means to you.”
“The shop doesn’t mean anything anymore,” said Jim.
It was the first time he’d spoken since returning with the keys.
In the darkness, Aly could hear him trying keys in the lock of her cell door.
The flashlight beam danced back and forth. It seemed as if he might have been holding it in his mouth, as his hands were occupied.
Aly’s jaw dropped and her mouth hung open.
He didn’t care about the shop?
How many arguments had they had about the importance of the shop?
And now he didn’t care about it?
Something was wrong.
Maybe there was something to what he was saying.
After all, she couldn’t see him just completely going crazy, completely losing it and having a complete break from reality.
Aly heard the heavy bolt of her jail cell door sliding.
She heard the hinges as the door swung open.
A strong hand grabbed hers.
The crazy man in the next cell screamed again. This time he had no words. Just a blood curling high-pitched scream that echoed throughout the darkness.
She felt panicked.
She didn’t know whether to resist.
Or go with her husband.
Could she trust him?
“Come on, Aly,” he said. His voice sounded deep and strange in the darkness. “It’s going to be OK. But we need to get out of here.”
After only a few moments, she gave in.
She let herself be led through the darkened station towards the back door.
The three of them walked silently, following the flashlight beam as if it was a guide.
Rob’s breathing was heavy and loud.
She couldn’t believe she was escaping jail.
She’d be in so much trouble.
She knew she’d regret this when this was all over.
But she couldn’t help thinking that Jim might be on to something.
And she couldn’t stand another moment in that darkness with that nut screaming like that.
The back door was already partially open.
“We had to smash it real good,” muttered Rob as he hit the door and it swung open.
The sunlight, even though it was cloudy and overcast, nearly blinded her.
Aly put her hand up to shield her eyes.
“The trunk’s open,” said Rob.
“Shit,” muttered Jim. “She’s escaped.”
“What’s happening?” said Aly. “Who escaped? What are you talking about?”
Finally, she was able to lower her arm. She squinted as she looked out at the parking lot full of squad cars. The familiar Subaru wagon sat there, with the rear door open.
Jim took her by the arm and led her towards the car. He was reaching for something in his waistband.
“Hands in the air,” screamed someone. “Or I’ll shoot.” A young female voice, full of panic.
10
Jessica had woken up in the back of a strange car. A station wagon, to be exact.
She was wearing her bicycle helmet, and her entire body hurt, like she’d been run over by a truck.
Her head throbbed, and there was blood on her torn pants.
It hurt to shift her body.
At first, she didn’t think she’d be able to move. She lay on her back, with her legs folded up awkwardly underneath her thighs, twisted together like a pretzel.
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain.
How had she gotten here?
What had happened?
But nothing came to her.
It was a strange sensation.
The last thing she remembered was getting ready to go to work at the bike shop.
Had that been today? Or yesterday? Or even longer than that?
She started mentally asking herself questions, like who the president was, what country she lived in, and what her name was.
She knew the answers. They came readily.
She knew who she was.
She was Jessica. She worked as a bike mechanic. She knew all about bikes. She lived in Rochester above a pizza shop.
But still she didn’t know what had happened to her.
She felt herself starting to panic. It was a horrible sensation, not to know what had happened.
Mentally, she took a step back and tried to piece together what she knew.
Given her injuries, she must have been in some sort of accident. It seemed likely that whatever memory problems she was experiencing were a result of the accident.
But why wasn’t she at the hospital? Or lying on the road somewhere?
Her mind went back to the one memory that was clearer than any others she’d ever had. It was that night in the dark alley when she’d been attacked. That night was the reason that she’d bought the gun that she now had.
The gun.
She opened her eyes suddenly and felt for the gun in her pocket. It was still there, small and compact, but with a good weight to it.
She drew it, holster and all, from her pocket.
With her left hand shaking, she grasped the holster and with her right, she drew the small Glock from the holster.
It felt good to have it in her hand.
That memory of that one night haunted her.
She wasn’t going to let it happen again.
Her anxious mind went racing through the possibilities.
Maybe someone had attacked her, knocked her out, and thrown her here in a car.
Or maybe not.
She shouldn’t let herself rush to conclusions.
Suddenly, she remembered that she normally wore a watch. She glanced at her wrist, but her wrist watch was completely blank. It was just a cheap digital watch she’d bought from a big box store a year or so ago. Maybe the battery was dead.
From her other pocket, she took out her cell phone. The screen was cracked. And it didn’t turn on, no matter how long she held the button.
Her head felt foggy and the panic wasn’t helping.