Abithica (23 page)

“Please tell me you’re a virgin.”

She didn’t have to say a word. Her silence said it all.

“Damn it! How many times?”

“They… they didn’t mean anything to me, I swear! I had to show my father that he couldn’t control me. I wanted to hurt him. My girlfriends set me up. I didn’t even know the guys who…”

* * *

So she’d lost her cherry? Damn! Now they were both screwed, and there she was running her mouth while he was trying to think. He needed quiet, but she was still yapping away. Time to shut her up. A single, back-of-the-hand
whap
did it. The car was finally quiet even if his brain wasn’t. It was jumping all over the place, as if he was on drugs, only way worse. Without a high on, the edge was razor sharp. Easy enough to fix! He called the pills Willy Wonkas, because they looked like candy in a way—colored pills like aspirins, not capsules. Awhile back he’d been told which color did what, but he’d never gotten them straight. It was enough just to have a pocketful just in case they were needed, like carrying money.

He picked a blue one and popped it. Then, just for shits and giggles, he tossed down a red. Should he add a white? It would be a nice patriotic touch, even though it wasn’t even close to July. Then he heard her sniffle. Shit, the Legnas! This was bad and getting worse. Who would they punish when they discovered her little present had already been unwrapped? Her… or him? Shit! How could this be his fault? He’d done exactly what they asked, but they were hard to predict—impossible even. If they’d known so much else about her, why hadn’t they known that part? She sure hadn’t lost her flower by getting herself poked there on church property, so what was their problem? They knew all that other stuff about her, even about her father, but nothing about the most important part of all?
They
were the ones who wanted virgins, for some dumb reason. Next thing they’d ask for would be unicorns.

But wait! The Legnas could read minds, so they’d
know
he hadn’t speared her, that he was willing to wait for the big show, wait for his prize. They’d know
why
she’d done what she said, if it was true that she was just getting back at her father. They’d even know how old she’d been at the time, if she ever thought about that detail while they were looking inside her head.

So… no problem. He’d just deliver the goods the way he found ‘em, and tell the truth.

The last disciple had tried to put one over, and he’d gotten caught in his own lies. Never saw his payoff coming. None of the rest of them put two and two together, either, even after they’d cleaned up the poor sap’s blood. Sure, the kid was a putz. Nobody talked to him much, and even if someone had, he wouldn’t have been able to respond. Too many drugs. He was all zombie-like, all strung out even when he was clean, like his brain had been completely fried.

No way am I going out like that! Besides, they like me. These wheels prove it, don’t they? And what about the wad of cash in my pocket? I’m their bud, their favorite, numero uno
!
This little hiccup is Sarah’s problem, not mine.

He pulled back into traffic. Hopefully he’d be too high to feel a thing by the time they arrived.

* * *

He hadn’t kicked her out of the car or pulled another U-turn. That was a good sign wasn’t it? Another was that little slap. He was jealous. It meant he cared about her, something she could get used to in a hurry. If only she could show that she was worth his interest in other ways, that she had some curves. Her dress wasn’t even belted or tied at the waist.

This was the wrong time to reach over and touch his hand, because he was still sore, but that would pass. Should she put her panties back on? No… he hadn’t gone for her original idea about hanging them on her father’s rear view mirror, so he might be thinking she was a skank or something. Better that he not think about her panties at all then while he cooled off a bit.

If only she had some way to dump them. For now, she’d just stuff them down along her seat. Once her right hand was free, she could at least gather the dress on that side and pull it tight enough to make her boobs stick out. He’d look, wouldn’t he?

Where was he taking her, anyway, to his house? The very thought made her pulse race. And his name? What
was
his name anyway? She didn’t dare ask, but then she couldn’t call him Superman, either… or could she? Maybe he’d go for playing the hero and all that, even though she hadn’t exactly been the ideal damsel in distress, blabbering the way she had. If she’d learned anything from her hateful father, it was not to bring any attention to her “cleansing,” or it might turn into yet another cleansing. Better to pretend it never happened.

Thank God, Superman hadn’t asked if she felt better, if she felt cleaner. She’d have screamed for sure. He was quiet instead, almost contemplative, maybe thinking about her and feeling sorry for what he’d done. He was looking ahead, focusing on his driving and clearly deep in thought. Were those aspirins he was popping? Probably had a headache from all that tension, if he was anything like her. He wasn’t the only one. She let go of her bunched up dress and put both hands to her temples.

“Got any more of that aspirin?”

He didn’t hear her. Wow! He really was lost in thought, or was it the wind that was masking her words? She turned and repeated the question, speaking a little louder.

Without as much as a glance her way, he dug into his jeans and produced two shiny blue tablets she didn’t recognize. “Same thing,” was all he said. At least he’d said it with a grin, even if he kept his eyes on the road while she swallowed them.

Things were looking up, except for her stupid granny panties. The window was open. When he wasn’t looking, she slipped her hand outside and dropped them on the highway. Maybe now she could get herself some really sexy thongs and not worry about daddy. She’d get a job, and then she’d get some better clothes, too, something that would show off her curves. After all, what was the sense of being a woman if nobody wearing pants even looked at her?

Tucson

“Her name’s Sydney Turner, and she’s sitting right there!”

I braced myself for all of five seconds and waited to collapse under the weight of my emotions, but when I wiggled my fingers and toes, both responded exactly as they should. I even managed a weak smile, but as it turned out I was being a bit too optimistic.

No sooner had Shae’s words had time to register with all the adults than my predicament came through to me in high fidelity and vivid Technicolor. I was sitting inside a church, of all places, with my “fiancé” on one side and a baffled priest on the other, one who just happened to know the Sydney I’d displaced. In front of me was a young girl who was about to offer “proof” that I was a living, breathing… whatever I was… miracle? At the back of the room was that heavy door. If any of the parents wanted to leave, that door would function normally. It would be inexplicably locked or jammed if I tried it, not that it mattered.

Shae wanted to talk about miracles? How about the fact I was still sitting upright?

“There she is,” she announced with pride. “There sits my very own, very real guardian angel.” She was pointing at me… and smiling! Actually it was more than a smile, it was euphoric. “You see, my angel wrote me a letter, this one.” She held it up high. “She told my brother Lane what the letter said, but he couldn’t read it. I doubt any of you could read it, either. The language she wrote it in doesn’t exist… at least, not here… on Earth.”

She tenderly placed the letter on the podium, then met the eye of every single person in the room, going up and down the rows and taking her time. “Angels
are
among us. We just can’t see them. I think… I think my mommy must have talked God into letting me see mine.” Then, abruptly, she turned to go, changed her mind, and came back to the microphone again. “I thought you should all know. That’s all. Thanks for listening and if you promise… I mean
promise
not to touch it or take it away, I’ll let you see the letter, if you want.”

With that, she switched off the microphone and carefully stepped down, to a chorus of cheers from the rest of the kids and enthusiastic applause from all the adults. Lane was on his feet, yelling, “Way to go, Shae!” As she approached us, she tucked the letter back into her pocket to protect it. The children in her row were already asking questions only kids could ask, but clearly they all wanted to see the strange writing.
I
wanted to see it, too, but that wasn’t about to happen. Apparently the rest of show and share was to take place in the usual way, back in the classrooms. Lane confirmed it, saying there were three grades represented, first through third. Shae was in grade one. Even as he explained it, the children were being formed into three lines. Before marching away with the others in her line, Shae yelled, “I love you, Sydney!”

But comments from the parents weren’t all that complimentary. I heard snatches as Lane guided me toward the huge door. Words like “imagination” and “real world” came through, even “cruel” came filtering back from those ahead of us. Putting them all together, I was being criticized for… what? Writing a letter in symbols I had yet to see for myself? How could
they
believe I’d done that, when I knew very well I hadn’t? How could Lane believe it?

Once back outside, I intended to ask him to retrieve the letter from Shae, but no sooner had we passed through the massive entrance doorway than the immensity of Shae’s revelation struck me.
None
of it was possible, not the letter, not her feelings about me being an angel, or even a miracle, not the stained glass windows, not Father Gabe’s knowing me, not Lane’s proposal, or the sixth day of the sixth month. Not even that voice calling me.

Voice calling me? I lost contact with my legs for the second time that day, and again everything went black.

* * *

“Is she all right?”

“I don’t think so, Father. She keeps doing this.”

I kept my eyes closed. I was still lying in the parking lot, and there might be a whole cluster of gawkers standing around.

“Should we call an ambulance or take her to the emergency room ourselves?”

My eyes popped open and I sat up, maybe a little too quickly because those annoying little black dots had me totally disoriented. Lane eased me back down. “Take it easy, Sydney. You just fainted.”

“I’m fine,” I protested, struggling against his restraining hand.

“Fine people don’t keep fainting!”

“It’s me, the melodramatic one, remember?” I managed a smile. His pressure didn’t let up, so I changed gears. “Lane, if you don’t let go of me, so help me I’ll knock you upside the head!”

Chuckling, he released the pressure. “Some angel,” he quipped. “What do you think, Father Gabe? Did she lose her wings because of her violent nature?”

“That must be it,” the priest laughed, playing right along. “They do get bossy at times, but they don’t actually lose their wings. Instead, they shrink right down to tiny feathers. My car is right outside. Do we carry her?”

“More room in my truck. It has a bench seat, so we can prop her up between us if she faints again.”

“Good thought. You take her legs and I’ll get her shoulders.”

“Hey, wait a darn minute here!” I exploded. “Can’t you both see that I’m awake? I can function very well on my own, and I’m
not
going to any emergency room.”

Lane peered down at me. “Okay, then how about a compromise. You promise to see Faith’s psychiatrist tomorrow morning, and we forget the hospital. Say yes, Sydney.”

I was sorely tempted to answer, “Yes, Sydney,” but caught myself. If I went along with his compromise, I’d have about twenty-four hours to find a way out. It was the easiest way, assuming I could stop fainting every ten minutes. Unfortunately, Lane looked extremely pleased with himself while Father Gabe seemed confused. Lane explained it to him.

“Dr. Chen is the one they’d send her to anyway, and if she had gone that route in the normal way it would have taken weeks to get her in. Faith sees him regularly, so we might be lucky.”

“Dr. Chen?”

“Specialist in head trauma and memory loss. People fly in from all over the world to see him.”

That got an even more confused look. They helped me to my feet, then led me to Father Gabe’s really small, cluttered office where I could “rest for awhile.” Once a chair strewn with papers had been cleared, he sent Lane for a cup of water. I wasn’t thirsty, but it made no difference. I was to sit down and REST! That’s when I suspected “pony tail” was up to something. He was studying me, or rather, studying Sydney. He’d known her from times past, but how
well
had he known her? It didn’t take long. He pounced as soon as Lane disappeared around the corner.

“You’re still in danger, aren’t you?”

“Danger?”

He sighed. “I’m still bound not to share anything you’ve told me, but that doesn’t apply if I think you’re in danger or are a danger to others. In that case I am obligated to do whatever I can to help you, even if that means involving the police.” His chiseled features hardened with the words.

“The
police?
Why them?”