“So, you’ve never once told me who your sources were. Do you understand how that makes you look now?”
“Yeah.” He drew in a ragged breath and bent his head. The remains of a cockroach stained the cement between his feet. He nudged it with his toe.
Kneeling beside the bed, she looked up into his face. “Listen, Mark. You helped me out a few times with tips on cases. I appreciated that, even if my boss gave me grief over how I’d acquired my information. So, now, I want to help you. Will you let me?” Her voice softened and her eyes bore into his.
“I already told them the truth. What more can I do?” Mark held her gaze. Whatever it took, he’d do it. He had to clear his name. Even if that put the camera in the wrong hands. He grimaced. Not that there was much chance of that. The authorities had ridiculed that explanation.
“You need to lay all your sources out for them. Names, dates, places. If you fully cooperate, your lawyer will push for leniency.”
A roar built in his ears as his hope plummeted. “I can’t do that.” She asked the impossible.
She shook his leg, her voice rising, “You have to do it. You have no choice in the matter.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t do that because I don’t have any ‘sources’!” He raked a hand through his hair. “I have…” Oh God, this was hard. “I have a camera. Those times when I showed up…the robberies…the shooting…I-I have a camera and when I use it, the photos that come out…they aren’t anything I photographed. There’s pictures of those things happening.”
Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
He licked his lips and rushed on, “I don’t know where they come from, or…or how they end up on my film, but they do. Then at night, after looking at the photos, the images come to life in my dreams. Like a movie-” He shook his head with a mirthless laugh. “The next day, they come true…unless I do something to stop it.”
The look on her face had gone from disbelief to pity.
He reached for her hand. “Please, you gotta believe me, Jessie. You’ve seen me stop things. How else would I know what I know?”
She pulled free and backed to the cell door. She turned, her shoulders slumped as she rested her head against the steel. For a long minute, she remained that way before facing him. “You realize how that sounds?”
Mark nodded. What more could he say? He picked at an orange thread on his sleeve. It sounded insane. He knew that. Flicking the thread from his fingers, he watched it float to the floor and rest beside the cockroach. “They think I’m crazy don’t they? You think I’m crazy.”
She threw her arms wide. “What do you expect? You give them this bizarre story and then wonder why they don’t believe you?” She stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Come on, Mark.”
“Jessie, listen, please.” He willed her to believe him. “I was only trying to help-I did help. You know that!”
He saw doubt as she looked away. She thought he was crazy. Or guilty. Oh God. His gut twisted and pain ripped through him. Why had he tried to stop it? It wasn’t something isolated, like most of the things he’d changed. It had been bigger than himself. He should have realized that. This ability that he had to see the future in his dreams had never been meant for something this big.
“Right now, I’m the only one even willing to listen to you. The guys in charge,” she flicked her hand towards the hallway, “they’re done listening. They’re talking about enemy combatant status now.”
Her words seemed to come from a distance as his mind slowed. Nobody believed him.
“An enemy combatant, Mark. Do you have any idea what that means?”
He jumped as Jessie lifted his chin to meet her eyes. “No.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
“It means no lawyers, no trials, and you leave your rights outside the door. It’s just you and them.”
Mark’s fear gave way to anger and it burned through him. What did they want from him? Did they expect him to confess to something that he didn’t do? “I dreamed the whole thing, Jessie. The whole damn thing.” He blinked sudden moisture from his eyes, embarrassed. “Why won’t anyone listen? Instead, they chained me up like I’m a goddamn animal!”
“That story won’t work, Mark.” She stepped back, putting distance between them.
Ignoring her comment, he cradled his head in his hands. The dream of 9/11 replayed in his mind like a horror movie. “I saw the planes hitting the buildings, Jessie. I saw them collapse. Hell, I even saw the damn hijackers. I told them all that.” Fists balled, he leaned towards her, his voice low and hard, “They could have stopped it if they’d listened. They could have stopped the attacks.”
Mark stepped towards Jessie, barely catching himself when the chain brought him up short and the metal cuff bit into his ankle. With a cry of frustration and rage, he yanked his foot, ignoring the cut of the metal against his leg.
“Stop, you’re hurting yourself! Are your crazy?” She moved as if to stop him, but paused, fear flashing in her eyes.
It was gone in an instant, but he saw it and staggered back at the realization that she was truly afraid of him.
“Crazy?” He spread his arms wide. “Look around you, Jessie. I guess…I guess I am…crazy.” He choked out the last word, wanting only to crawl into a corner and curl up with his shame and humiliation.
The guard burst into the room and shouted at him to sit down. Mark took a step backwards to sit, but saw the fear and alarm splashed across Jessie’s face. Ashamed of his outburst, he reached towards her, intending to apologize. He never got the chance. The guard slammed him against the wall, and Mark’s cheek and forehead cracked against the cinder blocks. His vision flickered and he tasted the salty tang of blood in his mouth. More guards filled the room and his hands were yanked behind his back and cuffed. The door clanked shut and Jessie was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
A half dozen guards circled him. Dressed in riot gear, the men looked ready to battle an army. One held chains, another clutched darkened goggles and some kind of earphones. Still another had a pair of thick mitts tucked under his arm. Mark took a step back in confusion. What the hell?
One guard, empty handed, moved behind Mark and undid the cuffs, only to re-secure them in front. “Raise your arms.”
He lifted his arms. “Where am I going?”
The guard wrapped a chain around Mark’s waist and let the end drop towards the floor. He spoke in a cold voice, “I have no idea and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Shocked, Mark ignored the snide tone. “What about the hearing the lawyer said I’d get?”
The guard shrugged and adjusted a pair of goggles.
Before Mark could ask another question, the guard placed the goggles over Mark’s eyes. Every last spark of light cut off. Earphones settled over his ears and all sound disappeared as well.
Disoriented, he shook his head to dislodge the equipment. His hands were caught in a paralyzing grip and the mitts forced on. Anger overcame his shock. The moment the men released him, he doubled over and tried to rip at the goggles, but the chains thwarted his attempts. Rationality abandoned him as terror and the survival instinct kicked in to high gear. Mark knew it was useless to fight, but he couldn’t help it. Self-preservation demanded that he try. He yanked his hands, but dizzy in the black, soundless void, he stumbled. His right shoulder smashed against the concrete. He barely felt the impact as terror consumed him. His efforts to get free of the gear were futile and he was hauled to his feet.
He hunched in a half- crouch, his body quivering. The chain around his waist tightened and tugged him forward. It was either fall again, or give in. Gasping, he took a step and slid the other foot up to meet the first. The length of chain shortened his steps, and he had to manage a jogging shuffle to keep pace with the guards.
When he would slow, the hands on his biceps squeezed, forcing him to quicken his pace. Would they drag him if he fell?