"What happened six months ago?"
"That's when everything went dim."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"What happened six months ago?"
"Senator Bainbridge retired suddenly, and I was out of a job. I remember that I was going to interview with Senator Irwin, but I never got to his office."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I remember it was a sunny day. I was singing. The top was down on my Mustang. The air was sharp and warm." She paused, frowning, then shrugged. "I always sang when the top was down. I don't remember anything else, but I know I never saw Senator Irwin."
She said nothing more. She was eating her meat loaf. She probably didn't realize she was eating, but he wanted her to keep at it. He guessed he wanted her to eat more than he wanted her to talk. At least for now. What the hell had happened?
James paid their bill and walked outside while Sally went to the women's room. He wondered how he was going to keep his hands off her when they got back to his tower bedroom.
12
HE HEARD A whisper of sound that didn't belong in that small narrow space beside the Hinterlands. He turned around, wondering if Sally had come out of the cafe without his seeing her. That was when he heard it again. There it was, just a whisper of sound. He pivoted quickly on his heel, his hand inside his jacket on the butt of his German SIG-sauer, a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol that fit his hand and his personality perfectly. He was at one with that pistol, as he'd never been with any other before in his professional life. He was pulling it out, smooth and quick, but still, he was too late. The blow struck him just over his left ear. He went down without a sound.
"James?" Sally stuck her head out the door of the cafe. There was no one around. She waved to Nelda, then turned back. Where was James? She frowned and stepped down. She heard a whisper of sound that didn't seem like it belonged. She wheeled about to look in that sliver of space beside the building.
What she saw was James lying on his side on the ground, a trickle of blood trailing down his cheek toward his chin. She yelled his name and skidded onto her knees beside him, snaking him, then drawing back. She sucked in her breath. Gently she laid her fingers on the pulse in his throat. It was strong and slow. Thank God, he was all right. What was going on here? But then she knew.
It was her father, he'd finally come to get her, just as he'd promised he would. He'd hurt James, probably because he'd been protecting her.
She looked up for help, praying to see anyone, it didn't matter how old he was, just anyone. There was no one around, not a single soul.
Oh, God, what should she do? She was leaning down to look at the wound when the blow crashed directly down on the back of her head and she crumpled over James.
She heard the sound. It came at short intervals. It was water, one drop after another, hitting metal.
Plop.
She opened her eyes but couldn't seem to focus. Her brain felt loose, as if it were floating inside her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
head. She couldn't seem to think, she could only hear that plop. She knew something wasn't right. She tried to remember but couldn't quite make her brain fasten onto something that would trigger a thought, any thought, anything that happened to her before she was here, wherever here was.
"You're awake. Good."
A voice, a man's voice, his voice. She managed to follow the sound of his face. It was Dr. Beadermeyer, the man who had tormented her for six long months.
Yes, she remembered that, not all of it, but enough to have it burn through her sleep and terrify her over and over in nightmares that still brought vivid pain.
Suddenly she remembered. She'd been with James. Yes, James Quinlan. He'd been struck on the head.
He was lying unconscious on the ground in that small sliver of land next to the Hinterlands.
"Nothing to say, Sally? I cut back on the dosage so you could talk to me." She felt a sharp slap on her cheek.
"Look at me, Sally. Don't pretend you're off in outer space. I know this time you can't be." He slapped her again.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard.
"Is James all right?"
He stopped shaking her. "James?" He sounded surprised. "Oh, that man you were with in The Cove.
Yes, he's fine. No one wanted to take the risk of killing him. Was he your lover, Sally? You only had him a bit over a week. That's moving fast. He must have been desperate.
“Just look at you, all skinny and pathetic, your hair in strings, your clothes bagging around you. Come on, Sally, tell me about James. Tell me what you told him."
"I told him about you," she said. "I had a nightmare and he helped me through it. I told him what a piece of slime you are."
He slapped her again, not too hard, but hard enough to make her shrink away from him.
"You're rude, Sally. And you're lying. You've never lied well and I can always tell. You might have dreamed, but you didn't tell him about me. You want to know why? It's because you're crazy and I'm so deep a part of you that if you were to tell anyone about me, why, you'd just collapse in on yourself and die. You can't exist without me, Sally.
"You were away from me for just two weeks, and look what happened. You're a mess. You tried to pretend you were normal. You lost all your manners. Your mother would be appalled. Your husband would back away from you in disgust. As for your father, well-well, I suppose it's not worth speculating now that he's shuffled off his mortal coil."
"Where am I?"
"Ah, that's supposed to be the first thing out of your mouth, if books and TV stories are to be believed.
You're back where you belong, Sally. Just look around you. You're back in your room, the very same Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
one decorated especially for you by your dear father. I've kept you under for nearly a day and a half. I let up on the dosage about four hours ago. You took your time coming to the surface."
"What do you want?"
“I have what I want; at least I have the first installment of what I want. And that's you, my dear."
"I'm thirsty."
"I'll bet you are. Holland, where are you? Bring some water to our patient."
She remembered Holland, a skinny, furtive little man who'd been one of the two men to stare through the small square window while he was hitting her and caressing her, humiliating her. Holland had thinning brown hair and the deadest eyes she'd ever seen. He rarely said anything, at least to her.
She said nothing more until he appeared at her side, a glass of water in his hand.
"Here you are, Doctor," he said in that low, hoarse voice of his that lay like a covering of loose gravel in all those nightmares, making her want to be drugged so she wouldn't realize he was around her.
He was standing behind Beadermeyer, looking down at her, his eyes dead and hungry. She wanted to vomit.
Dr. Beadermeyer raised her and let her drink her fill.
"Soon you'll want to go to the bathroom. Holland will help you with that, won't you, Holland?"
Holland nodded, and she wanted to die. She fell back against the pillow, a hard, institutional pillow, and closed her eyes. She knew deep down she couldn't keep herself intact in this place again. She also realized that she would never escape again. This time it was over for her.
She kept her eyes closed, didn't turn toward him, just said, "I'm not crazy. I was never crazy. Why are you doing this? He's dead. What does it matter?"
"You still don't know, do you? You still have no memory of any of it. I realized that almost immediately.
Well, it isn't my place to tell you, my dear." She felt him pat her cheek. She flinched.
"Now, now, Sally, I'm not the one who tormented you, though I must admit that I enjoyed the one tape I saw. Except you weren't even there, you were just flopping back, your eyes closed, letting him do what whatever he wanted.