 | |
| Here it is; chapter three. Things are going to get more interesting from here on in. ;) Here it is; chapter three. Things are going to get more interesting from here on in. ;)  The room was small and impersonal, and looked more like a hospital room than anything else, though it was located in one of the many suburban houses of West Oakshire. The gray carpeted floors and dull walls created a depressing atmosphere that was all too familiar to the old woman lying in the bed. Though the bookshelf and cheerful curtains tried to make the room seem homey and comfortable, it was no longer a familiar haven to her. The nurse stood quietly, letting her sleep as she checked the vital signs printed on a monitor. Whatever it indicated caused her lips to press together in concern; she had grown quite fond of this particular patient. She turned away from the bed to rearrange the floral curtains and straighten the chairs that stood on the side wall.  When the nurse turned around again to refill the IV, the old woman was awake and had fixed her with a milky gaze that was somehow quite piercing at the same time. "I don't have much time now, do I?" The nurse sighed and pulled up a chair next to the bed. "You don't know that yet, Miranda." Miranda nodded sagely. Mary was her favorite nurse, though they were all lovely. She lay back against the pillows wearily, looking at the ceiling rather than the pink uniform. "I'm old Mary, not stupid. I see that look. You'll miss me, won't you?" Mary bit her lip, looking at the weathered face with a mixture of compassion and amusement. "I never could hide anything from you. No, you don't have much time now. Though the drugs should keep it painless." Miranda sighed deeply and shut her eyes. "I'm not ready yet. Of course, you've heard that hundreds of times, I'm sure." Mary patted the wrinkled hand and reached over to readjust the IV. "Never from someone so close."  She stood, checking her watch as she did so. "I have another appointment." Miranda sat up suddenly and alarmingly, causing the bed to creak and stretching the tube that was still embedded in her arm. "Not yet!" Her voice was sharp and her eyes were more piercing than Mary had ever seen them. She reached out, alarmed. "For heaven's sake, Miranda, lie down!" The old woman didn't pay any attention, however. The lines in her face seemed to deepen as her voice took on a pleading quality. "I need you to help me." "What do you think I've been doing?" Mary's eyes were anxious as she sat back down slowly, trying to calm the old woman. "I need you to bring him." "Bring who?" Mary tried to make her voice soothing as she pushed the old woman down onto the pillows. "Him. He owes me a favor, I have to find her. He can find her for me." "All right...all right. I'll get in touch with him, can you give me his name?"  The next day, Mary kept her promise despite her reservations. The man had a dangerous look in his eyes, one that sent chills up and down her spine. Nonetheless, she brought him. Something about the old woman wrenched at her heart. "Miranda? Your...uh...visitor is here." Miranda heard the trepidation in Mary's voice and shot her a grateful glance. She knew how strange this must be for the young nurse. She was nervous herself, but she had to do this before she went. "Thank you Mary. Perhaps you could...give us some privacy?" "Oh um...of course." She left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.  Mike strode over to the old woman who was perched in a wheelchair next to her bed. She looked up at him without a trace of fear, even though his face held a dangerous expression. "What do you want?" "You owe me a favor, Mike." He winced slightly. He had hoped that the old woman had forgotten, or died, but she appeared to be alive. Barely, but she was alive. "Right what do you want me to do?" She handed over a photograph. "Find her." |
 | |
| The sun was just setting over the hills of North Oakshire, casting an orangey light over the quiet streets. Linnea had never been in this area of the city before, but Charlie had insisted. They stood together just outside of his house talking. He had that teasing light in his eyes that was becoming quite familiar to Linnea as she got to know him better. She had been at school for a month now, and things were easier than she remembered them being in her entire life. "Come on, that wasn't so bad was it?" "Ugh." "You looked beautiful." She smiled and hit his arm playfully. "You're just trying to distract me. That was the most irritating thing ever!" Charlie had convinced her to go with him to the school dance. It had been some stupid bet with his brother. She had agreed reluctantly. Only for Charlie would she brave the throngs of popular girls grinding in a crowded gymnasium. "You owe me a lot for that." "Fine, fine, I owe you. Satisfied?" "Do you know how many rumors are going to circulate now?" "Why would I care? I'm a guy!" "Yes, well, I'm not." He rolled his eyes. "You don't care about rumors either, don't try to pretend you do." He was right there. Linnea was used to highschool kids. They were all the same to her by now. Partially due to her upbringing, Linnea was a rather elitest teenager. |
 | |
| Neither of them noticed the man standing just behind a nearby tree. He watched them with the eyes of a hawk, gun held firmly in his left hand. He couldn't fathom why the old woman wanted the girl, but it wasn't his place to question why. He listened to their stupid conversation for a few more minutes, hand tightening on the familiar shape of his revolver. The girl rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, I don't care. But you still owe me." "I promise, when I collect the money from James, you'll get some." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't want money." "So how the hell am I supposed to repay my debt?" "Oh, I'll think of something." Charlie sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I didn't like it any more than you did you know." He got tired of waiting then. This was beginning to bore him. He just wanted to get the job done. |
 | |
| She felt the gun before she saw who was holding it; a cold metal barrel poking into the back of her head. She looked at Charlie. His eyes were wide and fearful as he took in whoever was behind her. Linnea winced as she felt a rough grip on her upper arm. "What do you want? We don't have any money, we're just kids!" Her voice came out a lot braver than she was actually feeling at the moment. The part of her brain that wasn't screaming was wondering what on earth a mugger was doing in the middle of uptown Oakshire. "I don't want your money." The voice was low, raspy, and vaguely amused. Linnea stiffened at the suppressed laughter that laced her attacker's tone. "Well then what the hell do you want?" "Listen sweetheart, I'm not the one who set this up. HEY!" Linnea felt a release in the pressure on her head, and realized that the gun was now aimed at Charlie, who had just reached for the cell phone in his back pocket. "That's enough. I'm gonna ask you to come with me. And you, kid, you keep your mouth shut. I don't care if you call the police, but wait till we're outta sight or she gets a bullet in her somewhere." |
 | |
| Linnea allowed him to guide her down the street. After all, she didn't have any alternatives. They walked for perhaps ten minutes in silence, then the man pulled his gun out again. Shoving it into the small of her back, he forced her up a gravel driveway to a nondescript, white paneled house. It looked exactly like every other house on the block, which confused Linnea who had been expecting some empty warehouse, or perhaps just a white van. In the brief instant while he shoved her through the front door, she took in a small room that looked quite a lot like a hospital. She stumbled into the room, heels leaving dirt smudges on the white carpet. "I brought her. Just like you said. Debt paid?" Linnea couldn't see who he was talking to; the only occupant of the room was a frail looking old woman sitting in a wheelchair. It took her completely by surprise when said old woman replied in a voice that definitely did not match her appearance. "Yes, your debt is paid. I hope I never see you again. Did you hurt her?" "No." And with that, the pressure in Linnea's back vanished and she straightened up, looking at the old woman with puzzlement and fear.  "What do you want? Ransom?" It seemed the most likely explanation, considering the fact that she had wealthy parents. The old woman laughed. "Good heavens no child!" "Then what DO you want?" She was more confused than ever at that point.The woman merely stared at her with milky gray eyes. Linnea noticed, with some surprise, that they were the exact same color of her own. She shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable under the woman's level gaze. "Are you happy, child?" "Not at the moment, no! You hired someone to kidnap me!" "I mean in life. Are your parents treating you well?" "Of course they are, they're my parents! YOU'RE the one that kidnapped me!" The woman shook her head wearily. "You don't understand, child. Of course you don't. I blame myself for that..." |
 | |
| Linnea had had enough. She wasn't a rude person, but she was past her limit now. Her eyes hardened and she stood, intending to leave. A gnarled hand closed around her wrist. "No! I have to know you're all right. I have to know I didn't give you to monsters, as I have thought for so long." A flash of fear came into Linnea's eyes. "Gave me...?" "Yes. I am your grandmother dear. And I gave you away." Linnea could not process this. Her eyes widened, lips parted as she stared at the old woman...her grandmother. With the eyes so like hers, and the- "No." The old woman looked at the girl. "Yes, dear. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but it's true." "No." Linnea said it with a new conviction. This couldn't be true. She wouldn't accept it. "You're lying! Or senile, I don't care which. My parents. raised me! I look like my mother, everyone says so, you crazy old woman!" In three long strides, Linnea was at the door. She didn't even glance backwards at the old woman, but ran as far as she could run, feet pounding the cold concrete sidewalk, until her breath came in gasps. She reached her house with a relief that was almost painful. The first thing she did was call Charlie and tell him not to warn the police. To her relief, he hadn't yet. The next thing she did was retreat to her bedroom and lose herself in a book, determined to forget the whole strange episode. |
 | |
They stood together in the public reference library, surveying the rows and rows of books. Charlie looked nervously sideways at Linnea. She seemed...different. On edge. She had asked him to come with her and help her find something today, but had refused to tell him what it was. Now he stood awkwardly as her eyes skimmed rapidly over the titles. "Remind me what we're looking for?" She glanced at him, then went back to her search. "My name." "Your...." "My name. This is the section where the birth records are. I was born here, so I should be here somewhere. Under Belson..." She trailed off, pressing her lips together. At first, Linnea had been unwilling to accept the strange lady's statements. But lately she had been having odd flashes of memories. Something about a white room. Bright lights. And her parents...She couldn't dwell on that now. She had to find it. But time passed, and they searched in silence for a half hour, until Charlie said tentatively, "Nea, I don't think it's here." "It has to be." Her voice was sharp, like broken glass. It made him look at her curiously. Her tight jaw, her eyes burning feverishly in her face, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "What...what's going on?" |
She swung around to face him, and he was caught off guard by the anger in her face. "It's not there, is it? It's not." He shook his head, nonplussed by her sudden fury. She had seemed fine at school all day. "Can you back up for a second? I still don't get why we're even here." "The old woman." "Sorry?" "The old woman! She said she was my grandmother. She said...she gave me away." Charlie's eyes widened at that. She saw an expression on his face that would have been funny if she hadn't been so upset. "That's...weird. More than weird. Is that where that jerk took you?" She nodded tightly. "And she was telling the truth wasn't she? I didn't want to believe it, but...my name isn't here. It's not here! I don't belong to them! Not legally, otherwise there would be SOMETHING." He frowned slightly. "What are you going to do?" "I don't know." |
She felt confused, adrift, like someone out of a lame movie. "Talk to them, I guess." Charlie shifted his wait uncomfortably. He wasn't very good at helping people; girls crying had always made him feel strange. Luckily, Linnea wasn't crying, but she did look lost. "Hey, cut them some slack, okay? You don't know how lucky you are to have parents." "I don't. Not any more." "Well I never have." Briefly, a flash of something like pity flashed into her eyes. "Sorry." He shrugged. She turned to go, but stopped briefly. "Charlie, we're friends right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." Suddenly, she smiled. It was a ghost of a smile, but it was still a smile. "I've never had one of those before." Then she really was gone, running as fast as she possibly could towards the subway station. |
 | |
| Instead of entering her house, Linnea took a left turn at her driveway and opened the door to the garage. A smell of must and mold met her nose, a smell that just barely masked the sharp scent of formaldehyde. She descended a modern staircase that she knew led to her parents' lab. She had never been allowed there before, but she no longer cared. |
 | |
| Cassandra was sitting at one of the four computers against the side wall. Linnea felt her rage grow as she set eyes on the woman. How could she be so calm? Just sitting there, living a lie. "I know." Cassandra did not look up. "Know what darling? Could this wait perhaps? You know you're not allowed in the lab." Linnea moved closer, stamping her foot as though she were about five years old. "I know where you got me." Cassandra's fingers stopped moving on the keys. Abruptly, she stood, towering over Linnea. "How much do you know?" The answer was of course, not a lot, but she would never admit that. Her bluff was the most foolish mistake she made that night. "Everything." "Are you sure." "Yes. I've met with Miranda." |
 | ||
| "Steven!" They only had to wait about a second before he was there, holding a large needle. The kind that was used for injections. "What...what are you doing?" Her blood ran cold as she watched him prepare the liquid, which hissed and turned a lethal green color. She started to back away, terrified now. A hand closed on her wrist, red nails digging into her skin. "I'm afraid you can't leave now...daughter." The last word was whispered in her ear, and it was the last thing she heard after she felt the prick of a needle in her calf. |
 |
| Linnea awoke to the smell of chemicals and the feeling of a wooden bed beneath her body. She didn't open her eyes, just allowed the tears to stream out from beneath closed lids as she listened to the sound of her world crashing down around her. |
