The Valkyrie_Genesis Page 9

  “Did the doctor do anything strange to you when you saw him? Can you remember?”

  “Sorry Cara. I don't recall anything odd. I was only, like, fifteen. If I wasn't being beaten, it was all pretty peachy.”

  “Well, what the hell has he done to me?” I can picture Doctor Abrams’ light blue eyes, framed by his thick glasses, staring at me. I thought he was listening intently. Turns out it was more likely he was closely observing his lab rat. It makes my blood boil. I trusted him with my secrets. Sat in the chair opposite him, telling him everything he wanted to know. How stupid of me. “I’m going to find that man and I’m going to get answers.”

  “What about the people in our dreams. Why don't we go back and talk to them—Kane and Zander? Ask them?” JT suggests it as if it’s that simple.

  “Not on your life, buddy. I trusted him too.”

  “Who, Zander? You thought he was a figment of your imagination. It’s likely he still is.”

  “Someone must be controlling me and what I imagine. Whoever it is, is playing on my weaknesses. And what if he’s real? Zander had all the time in the world to tell me—but he didn't. He let me believe I had made him up.” It seems, figment or not, I’m blaming Zander.

  My mind is swamped with the verbal gems I have said to him. ‘I’m already stuck in a bloody gym and this is my dream. I want some ice cream’. But one phrase is louder than the rest. I told him he was ‘the perfect man in my dreams’.

  Not my dreams and, as it turns out, not perfect.

  I despise him for tricking me. It’s hard to despise an imaginary friend, but the fire is biting in my stomach as if he’s real. This is man-made, there is a person on the other end of this deception, somewhere. In my ferocity, that person is Zander. I can't face him—not yet. I need to stay awake until I get out of this prison before I step into the next.

  Zander had been the incentive not to touch the sleeping pills. Now he’ll drive me to them. They are the only thing that stops the dreams.

  Red flashing lights stop outside our building. I lean in close to the glass and can see the fire truck idling next to the curb on the other side of the road. Our liberators have arrived. People are climbing out of the truck’s cab on to the rubble strewn road. I imagine the hugs I’ll give those people when I’m down on the ground next to them.

  Survival is looking better by the minute. JT seems to be feeling the same. When I wrap my arms around his waist, he envelopes me in muscle, squeezing tight.

  “Hasn’t this been a riot,” he says.

  Chapter 11

  The pleasure of freedom is indescribable.

  I suck in breath after dust-laced breath to relieve my nostrils from the smell of stale gym air. From the middle of the carless road, I survey my surroundings. The landscape that I once knew, has been decimated. It’s as if Armageddon struck while I was in the shower.

  The gravity of our situation hits me like a battering ram and I lower myself onto the painted line in the middle of the road and cry.

  Dawn is peaking around the corners of buildings. The floodlights are now merely decorative and, one by one, are being switched off. When the intense, power generated light has ceased glaring, dark shadows appear on the walls, exposing huge cracks. They riddle the exterior of the building we were in. It no longer appears strong and imposing, but rather, that it could come crashing down on a whim.

  I can picture the shoes of the man going into the tunnel before the big aftershock. They tell me he hadn't made it out. That he is still up there.

  I cry for him. And I cry for his family.

  An ambulance driver drapes a blanket over my shoulders. It’s much softer than the scratchy towel and a lot warmer. She rubs my back, doing her best to find comforting words that might ease my pain.

  “I'm fine,” I tell her. “Just need to let it out.”

  JT sits next to me, taking over from the ambulance driver, his big hand rolling over my back.

  “Hell of a night, doll face.” He straightens my hair so it no longer hangs in the dampness of my tear-streaked cheeks. “How about we get you home? I'm betting a few anxious people are waiting for you.”

  A team is using heat sensor gear, scanning the building, checking if anyone else might be alive inside. One of our rescuers leans up against the fire truck, a few feet behind us. She looks exhausted.

  “I hope home isn’t too far away.” She takes a big swig from a plastic water bottle. In answer to my frown, she explains that roads everywhere are torn apart. And the center city has been cordoned off. Only emergency vehicles in and out.

  “Let’s start walking,” JT says as he pushes himself onto his feet and starts a slow stroll down the street.

  I don’t know what to say to the woman who helped me escape the concrete holding cell. It’s not over for her yet and she’s already seen worse things than I would ever want to.

  “Take care,” I give her a brief wave. “And thank you.” Few words. At least they’re fitting.

  “You too,” she says to my back as I head after JT. “Stick to the center line in the road,” she yells as an afterthought.

  We traipse down the middle lane of the road, a precaution in case any more buildings fall. Here we are, JT and me, two strangers on an empty street. Cars are parked on either side of the road, covered in dust or crushed by debris. It's carnage. And it’s finally time to go home. Please let there be a home.

  Chapter 12

  I applaud my house when I see it still standing. From a distance, it appears normal. The neighbor’s brick house hasn’t been so lucky and the bricks from their fence are scattered like dice across the front lawn.

  My hand doesn’t make it to the handle before the front door is ripped open. Jack grabs the front of my blanket, pulls me into him before crushing my ribs in a bear hug.

  “Jack, I’m okay.”

  “I thought I’d lost you.” He only relaxes his grip a little. “I tried to come find you, but they wouldn’t let me in. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the gym. They’ve got Police on the roads, enforcing the closures. When you didn’t come home, I thought the worst.” His eyes are red and his voice is still laden with panic. “Does your Dad know you’re safe?”

  Three times I try to explain to him that my phone has met an untimely demise. It takes for me to wave the shattered black screen in front of his face for him to understand. Jack calms down a bit, enough to perceive someone is standing behind me.

  “I’m JT.” He’s offering Jack a hand to shake. “We were earthquake buddies. Looked after each other.” He tries to explain. “I wanted to make sure she got home safe.” Jack is silent as he walks towards JT. His emotions are all over the place and I have no idea of his intentions. I think it surprises JT even more than me when he gives him a big hug and tells him thanks.

  We lend JT Jack’s mountain bike and he heads home himself, but not before I have his mobile phone number. It’s my turn to hug him and say thanks.

  Once inside, Jack wraps his arms around me again and kisses me, repeatedly. There’s no better feeling than being here.

  “I should try and get hold of Eli and Dad. They’ll be worried,” I say, not really wanting to leave his arms.

  While I’m on the phone, Jack doesn’t stray very far as if I might disappear. Eli is at Dad’s place, making sure he’s okay. When I hadn’t checked in, neither of them wanted to be alone.

  I’m one of the lucky ones—everyone I love has survived.

  Our house might look solid, but in actuality it’s a disaster. The retired builder next door has told Jack that it’s been sheared off its piles. As a result, every car driving past makes the house rattle, and my nerves rattle too.

  Inside the house, everything that could have possibly broken has taken the opportunity to do so. Jack’s television lies face down in the lounge, its screen cracked in a spider’s web pattern. The ornaments from the shelves are an explosion of tiny shards haloing the television, embedded in the carpet. Mess everywhere, and this is after Jack has clea
ned up. At least the bed is clear. I shake my jar of sleeping pills. There is still a good stash, even after dishing half out to JT. I pop a little white pill and turn on the kitchen tap to fill one of our few surviving glasses. No water comes out.

  “Water mains are off,” Jack says. He pours me the dregs from a carton of fruit juice. “So are the power, gas and sewage.”

  “Neat.”

  I need to sleep this day away. No dreams, no interruptions, only sleep.

  Chapter 13

  “Hey, it’s only me,” I say to Eli when he answers the phone on the first ring.

  Three days have passed since the quake and there’s nothing to do. Once a day, I call him to check in.

  “Nice timing, sis. I was about to dial your number. All military who are non-essential to the earthquake recovery are being transferred out. The army’s not interested in having delays to the project, so all inbound equipment has been rerouted to another site.”

  “Already? The ground hasn't stopped moving yet.” My deck chair is placed in the middle of the lawn, in full sunlight and away from any buildings.

  “You'll be waiting a long time for that. It’ll be a year or two until this place is back to being anywhere near fully functional.”

  “Where are they sending you?” I ask.

  “They’ve acquired an empty office block in Seattle. We’re setting up there. It’ll take extra work to fit the building out how we want it, but it’ll do.”

  “Seattle’s nice.” I try to be positive.

  “I know your position isn’t operational yet, but there’ll be heaps of unpacking to do up there. If you want to join me early, the DoD has said they’ll forgo your notice period.” He says it like they are overly kind to allow such an act.

  “Since I no longer have an office to go to, that’s not a big ask.”

  “Come with me, Cara. Let’s get out of this nightmare and get on with our work.”

  “Your work, Eli. I know very little about it.”

  “Whole new world to explore. Bright lights, big city. It’s what you've always wanted.”

  “I can't up and leave Jack.”

  “Drag him along. What else is he doing? Playing in the liquefaction? I doubt there’s any need for accountants in disaster management. At least, nothing that he can't do from far away. Look—don’t get mad, but I’ve already discussed the move with Jack. He’s all for bugging out.”

  It appears I’m outnumbered.

  “When?” I ask.

  “As soon as you're packed. The northern road has had temporary repairs and is clear for traffic. It'll be a slow drive, but you'll get there.”

  A less than functional house, streets that are awash with dirt and who knows what else. Leaving sounds like a fine idea. But my mystery brain invader is yet to be uncovered. “Okay. But there’s something I have to do first.”

  “What can be that important?” Eli asks, more in jest than enquiry.

  “I said I’ll come. Let me tie up a few loose ends before I go. Nothing major.” My voice might give me away. There is a distinct edge to my tone. Thankfully, Eli doesn’t pick up on it otherwise he would be asking a barrage of questions.

  “Be safe.” Eli’s voice is soft.

  “Always.” The plastic deck chair creaks as I sit up.

  “I'll see you soon. Jack has the details.”

  They have arranged the shift in my absence. “Did I have a choice?” I can’t work out whether I should be angry that they’ve planned this behind my back or relieved to be leaving.

  “Of course you did—you still do. I just knew you’d choose the logical option. It's one of the things I love about you.”

  “Eli, did you just say you loved me?” I try and lighten the mood.

  “If you repeat it, I’ll have you hunted down,” he chides. “I can do that now.” He hangs up without saying goodbye.

  If the address in the phone book for the doctor isn't any good, I might take him up on his hunting-down capability. I call JT to see if he is prepared for a bit of recon work on our good doctor.

  Chapter 14

  “Please trust me,” I yell back at Jack.

  He’s standing in the hallway with a frown plastered on his face. His arms are folded tightly across his chest and he is giving off the vibe that there is a lot more he would like to be saying.

  Dressed in leathers and standing at the front door is JT. His motorcycle sits at the roadside, waiting for us. I know nothing about motorbikes. This one is yellow and it looks fast. I get a wee thrill thinking about riding on it. Not that I tell Jack.

  If I'm honest, I can understand why he’s fuming. I’m about to get on a bike with a man he met once, a couple of days ago, who incidentally I spent the night with. And to top it off, I’m hazy on why I need to go anywhere with him.

  “We need to check on someone and then I'll be right back. I’ll help pack when I get home. I promise.” I peck him on the cheek and run out the door before Jack can say what’s on his mind.

  “Are you going somewhere?” JT asks.

  I haven’t mentioned that we’re leaving San Francisco. When I tell people I’m going it feels like they are judging me on my early departure, as if I am running away, deserting the city when it needs me. Sitting on a chair in the sun is in no way helping though, and without power or clean water, I’m more of a hindrance at this stage.

  I don’t need to justify leaving to anyone, I tell myself.

  “Anywhere but here,” I say with a smile.

  The ground still shakes constantly. We now know that it could do this for months. In some ways, the constant movement of the aftershocks are worse than the primary earthquake. My nerves are frayed, and so are everyone’s I come in contact with. At least the sleeping pills do the trick. Out like a light. No dreams. No Zander.

  The helmet I slide on smells like fresh vinyl. The sides push at my cheeks and I fear looking like a cross between and overgrown baby and a goldfish.

  “Did you sleep?” I ask JT as I slide a leg over the bike, behind him.

  “Like a log. Thanks again for the pills.” He pushes the ignition and the engine roars to life.

  Chapter 15

  The front fence lies in pieces on the ground. Concrete pillars have pulled down the wooden slates between them. There is a strong smell of sewerage stinging my nostrils. My hand goes straight to my nose in hope of relieving it of the overpowering stench.

  The doctor’s house isn't untouched by the quake, but its mammoth proportions still bring a pang of jealousy. This man has grown wealthy off screwing with my head, not fixing it. In my waking hours, I have been through every session with Doctor Abrams and I’m certain I was conscious the whole time.

  “Did he ever do anything other than talk?” I ask JT as we saunter towards the house.

  “I had a rough childhood. By fifteen, I was as high as a kite most, if not all, of the times I saw him. I can’t remember much, except that I’ve always been an expert at evading questions I don’t want to answer.” He speaks big but looks embarrassed all the same.

  The path winds its way up to the front door. The manicured lawn is covered in a thin layer of grey goop that has bubbled up from the ground. A once-perfect flower garden now more closely resembles a pigsty. It’s a little satisfying.

  JT walks well ahead of me and holds his knuckles up, pausing before he raps on the front door. I give him a stiff nod. He beats his fist on the wooden panel which surrounds the three rectangular glass cut-outs in the door. Time slows as I wait, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Finally, footsteps are audible, moments before a shadow drifts over the threshold. The door opens without hesitation. On the other side, peering back, is a boy of no more than ten, wearing a Spiderman t-shirt. His head is thrown back to look up into JT’s face.

  Crap. How do you make a scene in front of a ten-year-old? I have a few choice phrases I want to dish out to the doctor but not in front of the kid.

  “Hello there.” JT holds a hand out for the kid to shake. “We’re check
ing in with the families in the neighborhood, you know, making sure everyone is doing okay.” A perfect smile follows the words. “Is your Dad in?”

  The kid only looks at JT's outstretched hand. “I'll get Dad.” The kid’s words are spoken nervously before he disappears back into the house, leaving the door wide open. We take the opportunity to move inside.

  “You ready for this?” JT asks.

  “No,” is all I have time to say.

  “Hello.” Doctor Abrams appears down the end of the hall. “It's so lovely of you to...” and then his eyes fall on me.

  “Cara, is that you?” He sounds confused. At least I’ve caught him off guard.

  His naïve and innocent expression has me fuming. “We need to talk.” It comes out as a growl. I don't bother with any niceties.

  “Is everything okay?” His voice changes. It’s soft and rhythmic. I know the tone well. He uses it to calm me when I get worked up about things in our sessions. Not this time. This time it’s patronizing and works me further into my frenzy.

  “No. Far from it. Now, are you going to take us somewhere where we can discuss a few things or am I going to stand on your doorstep and scream.” I walk forward while talking, so I now stand in front of JT. His hand moves to my shoulder. A sign of solidarity.

  “I am not sure what this is about. But turning up at my house and then behaving with such aggression is completely inappropriate behavior, Cara. I will not tolerate such...”

  “Now,” I scream. His head flicks back as if I have physically hit him.

  “You and your boyfriend need to get the hell out of my home.”

  “I’m not her boyfriend.” JT's grip on my shoulder tightens. I don't know whether it’s through anger or fear. I try not to flinch from the pain. “I was once a client of yours too. We only want you to answer a few questions and then we’ll leave.” Perhaps JT should do more of the talking. He sounds way more reasonable than me.