The Pace (32 page)

As I tried to focus on the paper, I heard an awful scream coming from above. It was the sounds of a person crying out. I opened my eyes as I tried to adjust them to the light, but it was still complete darkness. I listened, and I could tell the yelling was definitely coming from a man. Whoever it was, he was in excruciating pain. I heard a thumping sound, like someone pounding on the floor and rolling around.

The noise reminded me of how Wes described his transformation.
That’s it
, I thought. Andy had tried it on someone. No, not someone. If he were going to try it on someone else, he probably would’ve restrained them, as he had me. He must have tried it on himself.
Perfect,
I thought, unless it was going to work.

A heightened sense of worry began working its way through me, until I started tracing back through my dream. My eyes widened in the darkness, as I began to consider that it might not have been a dream. It very well could’ve been a memory. A memory like the one I’d had the night Lenny died. And if it was a memory, what was it exactly that I was remembering? Dr. Thomas had called me Amelia, so I was remembering something that occurred between Dr. Thomas and Amelia. He said something about it working, and the bloods matching, and it was a list—not a list, a formula. I gasped. It was the serum.
The serum
, the missing pages to his journal.

It was difficult for me to concentrate on the memory over the screaming above, but I did remember that Dr. Thomas was showing me his discovery. He was showing me that he believed he’d found the answer. I had seen it. I would’ve seen it. I was the only other person working with Dr. Thomas during that time.

The answer was not only in the missing pages of his journal, the answer was in
my
memory. Could I remember it? I didn’t see the paper long enough to recognize anything in my dream. The screaming had yanked me from my memory too soon.

I tried so very hard to remember the words on the pages, but my mind was a complete blank. I let out a frustrated sigh. Right about the time I was going to lose what sanity I had left, the screaming stopped. It seemed like ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes of screaming. I ran through that significant detail in my brain.

Ten minutes of screaming was the amount of time it took for the cold-blood serum to stop hurting the patients who eventually died during Dr. Thomas’ studies. I began to feel hopeful that my plan may have worked—
if
and only
if
Andy had administered it on himself.

T
he silence above was unsettling. I couldn’t tell if he was dead or if he’d left. All I could do was wait and hope. Some time later, the door screeched open again and Andy entered. He was breathing hard, and his skin was sweaty. I instantly felt my entire body start to shake with fear. He walked over to the front of my chair and knelt down.

“I thought you had me there for a second.”

I shook my head, not understanding. “Turns out, you were telling the truth after all. I have to tell you, that was the worst ten minutes of my life. But now I’m invigorated. I could actually feel the blood creeping through my veins. My muscles are so tight. But I feel good. It’s a shame you can’t try it.”

I tried to redirect his attention to something else. “Can I please go to the bathroom?” I asked.

He started laughing violently. “That won’t be necessary, Lenny.”

“Please, Andy, I swear, I’m about to go on myself. If I don’t go, I’ll have to go right here. I swear.”

He made a sniffing notion, as if deciding on whether he was willing to endure the mishap. “All right. I guess that’s the least I can do for you.” He took off my harnesses one at a time, and once he got to my last ankle harness, he issued a warning. “You don’t want to try anything stupid. I assure you, I can crush every bone in your body now, and I will not hesitate for one second to do so.” As I stared at his eyes in the darkness, I noticed the new gloss they possessed. Instead of fear, I felt disgust. They were blue and not nearly as pretty as Wes’.

He led me down a narrow corridor with exposed pipes overhead. I could tell we were in a basement of some sort, but it didn’t feel like a house basement. The floor was made out of cement, and the walls were cinderblock. The hallway also took several narrow turns before I reached a bathroom with a metal door handle. It was definitely not homey, and there were still no windows for me to tell what time of day it was or if there was anything nearby. My chances of escape were looking slim.

The inside of the bathroom was worse. The water in the commode was the color of tea, and dirt was climbing up the walls. I thought about turning right around, but I really did have to go. I elected to go without touching a single thing, which was extremely difficult with a mangled right hand. The slightest motion sent sharp pains all the way through my arm and down my spine. It was excruciating. Even the simple task of pulling my pants up and down was extremely daunting. I concentrated very hard to do it while ignoring the pain, because I was terrified that the few minutes of privacy I had been granted would be taken away at any moment.

Once I finished, I habitually went to wash my hands, which was a mistake. The sight of my hand as I rinsed made me want to throw up. I leaned over the sink and started panting heavily while trying to push the thought of my pain out of my mind.

“Hurry up!” Andy shouted.

“I’m coming,” I answered bitterly.

I took a quick look in the mirror before I turned to leave, and that’s when I saw two swollen cheeks and a busted lip. I’d never in my life wished anyone else harm before that moment, but standing there looking at myself made me wish that man something awful.

On my way back from the bathroom, I thought about trying to escape. I even turned in the opposite direction from which I’d come, but I had no idea where I was or what he would do to me if my attempt didn’t work, so I turned toward the hallway where he waited. I had to bank on the hope that the cold-blood would reach his heart within a few hours and then I’d be okay. And maybe, just maybe, Wes would find me.

My feet got heavier and heavier with each step I took toward that room. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I felt powerless. I felt alone and afraid. I felt the tears start to rise in my eyes as I returned to the chair. “Very good, Lenny.” His praise repulsed me.

Once he bolted me back down to my chair, I saw the smug look in his eyes. He was confident and resolved. He yanked the last restraint tightly around my ankle. “All right, there you go. Now, go ahead and make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back shortly.”

He left the room, and all I could do was wait. The longer I waited, the more I got worried that my plan hadn’t worked. I was sure injecting straight cold-blood would kill him. That’s what it had done on every patient before Wes, but my time was running out, and I could feel it.

I soon learned that Andy had a plan of his own, and it didn’t include hurling over. Even if my original plan worked in the end, his trumped mine. When Andy came back into the room, he was carrying a large duffle bag and a glass of water. He dropped the duffle bag beside my chair and set the glass of water on the floor. “Okay Lenny, I’m going to make this easy for you.” He pulled two pills out of his bag and picked up the glass of water.

He put the pills up to my mouth, and I turned away. His look was reprimanding. “Now, Lenny, we are done with the stubborn part. Now, take the pills.” He shoved them in my mouth. “It will help take your mind off of things.” I took the pills and placed them under my tongue. “Good. Now drink up.”

After he put the glass back on the ground, he pulled out several IV bags and a syringe. “What is that for?” I asked.

“Oh this?” he answered, nonchalantly, without breaking his focus. “This is how I’m going to package your blood.”

“Package my blood, for what?”

“Well, you see, I figure that I need some for my grandson, and I’m also thinking, that one day I could make quite a bit of money off of my discovery here. Imagine how many people will want to buy this when they find out they can have everlasting life.”

Did this guy actually believe that my blood was the key to that type of medical breakthrough? He was obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I told him I’d made the whole thing up, then I was sure he would kill me right then and there. There was nothing I could do.

“You’re crazy,” I spat.

He calmly ignored my insult, and that’s when I knew he was planning to kill me.

I looked around, and there must have been a dozen empty IV bags. He was going to drain me of all of my blood. I quickly thought about swallowing the hidden pills.

“Any minute, you will be falling asleep and won’t feel a thing,” he said, trying to reassure me. “I’m doing you a favor. Trust me—my original plan for you was much worse.”

I rolled my eyes at the lunatic and decided against swallowing the pills. Any chance I had of getting out of this situation would be diminished if I were unconscious. Instead, I began feigning drowsiness and dropped my head down, as if I were asleep.

I felt every dream of mine fade away. Every day I’d pictured with Wes was slowly disappearing right before my eyes, and yet somehow I felt hopeful I could some day see him again. It was the only thought that kept me from completely panicking. I only wished my death didn’t have to be at the hands of this bitter reject. I would rather it have been on my own terms, in my own time.

After he situated his equipment, I began to hear him talking to himself. “Perfect. Now you won’t even feel it as your life gets sucked out of you, my pretty little Lenny.” He rolled my sleeve up and inserted the needle. I felt a stinging pinch and then my blood pull as it began to leave my vein.

I tried to remember everything I’d learned about the human body. I couldn’t concentrate very well, but I remembered enough to know that more than one of those bags filled with my blood was not going to be a good ending for me. I started feeling my lip quiver, and I knew I was giving up hope.

Instinctively, I began trying to wriggle free, but it was a pointless effort. He pinned my arm down with his elbow and pressed me up against the chair with his shoulder. The stench of cigarette smoke raced up my nostrils. I turned my head as best I could and let out a cry. Nausea kicked in, followed by weakness and fatigue, as he began to fill the second bag.

I cried out as my eyes rolled toward the back of my head. The corner of the room began turning in odd directions, and I watched as the angles shifted back and forth until they began to blur. I felt weaker and weaker to the point that I couldn’t think or feel anymore, and I knew it was over.

All I wanted to do was stop screaming, but I couldn’t. The hollering only got louder and louder and then I realized what I heard wasn’t my fearful cry. It was more like a painful, excruciating shout. I tried to open my eyes, but I was too weak. In listening to the horrible sounds, I could tell who it was. I recognized the pain—Andy’s pain. He was the one shouting. It was an awful shout, a fearful one.
He
was suffering now.
I did it,
I thought—only it was too late for me.

I had no choice but to give into the sleepiness, and everything went black. I couldn’t hear or see anything, and my body was weightless. I felt as though I was being lifted high over the room. I realized I was floating, and as I began my ascent away from the stench of my killer, I no longer felt afraid. I no longer felt angry. I no longer cried.

Instead, I was filled with peace. I began to wonder how long it would take to rise to heaven. Within a few moments of my journey, a new scent captivated my mind. It was refreshing, familiar, a scent I would recognize anywhere.

“No,” I mumbled. “No, not yet.” I wasn’t ready to die. I wanted to go back.

“Shh. He can’t hurt you anymore,” whispered a familiar guardian. I started to panic. I didn’t want to go. I started fighting the ascent, and then I heard the voice again. “Sophie, stop. I’ve got you.” I recognized it. It was Wes’ voice. The words rang in my ears like a bell, but they sounded miles away. I tried to come down, closer to the sound, but I couldn’t move. I was floating and swaying like a feather. “Stop,” I mumbled.

“Sophie, it’s all right. You’re safe with me.”

I wanted to fight to it, I wanted to come back down, but I felt my body enter into a new space of flawless air, and I felt lighter and lighter. I didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, nor did I want to. Instead, I let the wind carry me. It rocked me back and forth like a baby, and soon I gave in. I curled up to the familiar scent, nestled into the arms of my guardian, and suddenly I decided that heaven wasn’t so bad, as long as it stayed just like this.

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A
n infinite amount of appreciation goes to my husband and children. Your patience and selflessness during this creation is unmatchable, and I love you all more than you know. To my mom and dad, thank you for teaching me to go after what I want and to remember what is truly important in life. To the students at OPHS and K12, thank you for motivating me every day to bring you stories that you would enjoy. A special thank you, apart from the others, is to my mother, Lisa, for your undying support and tireless attention to detail. I know Sophie and Weston’s story is better because of your care and fearless ability to tell me when something is awful! A special thank you also goes to Kenya for plowing through the story twice even though you weren’t sold on Weston’s anatomy before reading! Also, to my writer friends, A. J Borst and M.A Putman, who have offered great advice. Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to thank God, who is the guiding light in my life. With Him, all things are truly possible.