chapter Eighteen
We left Micah’s bike with the owner of the gas station, chained to a thick column, much to his chagrin. Then, we drove for three hours to find a decent motel. I was thankful when we did because, inside the car, I almost died from the intensity of their scents, unable to decide which one tantalized me more.
The bedroom given to us had two full beds. I took one, Victor took the other, and Micah was able to get an old mattress from the receptionist to sleep on the floor.
Five hours later, the guys and I were up and inside an old department store, buying clothes and other necessary stuff for them, since they hadn’t brought anything. After loading up, we went back to driving and eating our snacks inside Victor’s car.
We were headed south on I-95, to Jacksonville, Florida. The business card indicated we would find Morgan Holt, whoever he was, there. Our plan was to drive until evening, stop to rest for a few hours, and keep going in the morning. If everything went as planned, we would arrive there by noon the following day.
The outside was scary. Even sort of protected inside the car, knowing that bats and everything else was out there made me feel like crawling into a corner and crying. It worsened whenever we passed a destroyed town or had to stop and find an alternative route because of broken roads or bridges.
I rode shotgun, while Micah was spread out on the backseat, whistling without rhythm with songs playing on the radio.
My mind was somewhere else. Where exactly, I wasn’t sure. Every time I closed my eyes, the events of the past days, months, flashed before me. I was tired of thinking about it. The more I thought about the occurrences, trying to reason them out, the more my head hurt.
Distracted with the dark and lifeless outside view, I began singing with the songs playing from the car’s stereo—mostly rock and alternative and only a few pop songs. I had sung about ten songs before I noticed Micah leaning toward the front, gawking at me.
“What?” I pulled my hands from the dashboard where I had been playing an imaginary piano without noticing. I flushed.
“I had no idea you could sing like that,” he said. The heat in my cheeks increased.
“Amazing, huh?” Victor said, glancing at me with a gentle smile tugging at his lips. Oh, my heart.
“It is,” Micah exclaimed. He did sound impressed. “Let me ask, why are you in the health program? You have the talent and the looks to succeed in showbiz.”
I frowned. Did he think I was beautiful? It wasn’t the first time he’d implied it.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
He offered me one of his trademark smiles before leaning back, relaxing on the backseat, and putting his clasped hands behind his head. “It’s a long trip. Humor us.”
I received a quick but reassuring sidelong glance from Victor. It was enough to make me talk. “I have to take care of my family. My father’s a farmer, my mom’s a teacher, and I have two brothers and one sister, all younger. Because of the agricultural crisis, life’s been tough.” My throat closed up and I swallowed.
In the rearview mirror, Micah caught my eye, then nodded.
“Before the other three were born, there was another boy. Because conditions were so bad, he … he died.” Tears brimmed in my eyes. But I wanted to go on. “Things got a little better after that, but I decided to follow a route that would give me enough money to help my family. By the time the oldest of my brothers leaves high school, I’ll be a doctor. I’ll be able to pay for his college tuition. And I want to provide an early retirement for my parents.”
“How are you paying for your tuition now?” Victor asked, eyes on the road.
“A discount due to need, and a scholarship because of my SAT scores. The rest I pay for from my salary.”
“I don’t understand.” Micah leaned forward again. “In showbiz, you can make much more than a doctor ever would.”
“That’s if I succeeded.” I turned sideways to look at him. “I can’t waste time and money trying. Nobody becomes a star and rich overnight. Besides, not everyone can be a classic, chic singer. I’m so not gonna walk on a stage wearing only a bikini and wiggle my butt for the camera like most pop singers do these days to get more fans. That’s not my style. But I’m fine. It was my option. I like medicine and I like helping others.”
“You say that now,” Micah said. “When you’re older and tired of hearing grandpas complain about bladder control problems and teenagers crying because of acute acne, you’ll regret your decision.”
His vision of my future brought some humor to the situation. I chuckled. “Sorry, but I won’t change my mind.”
Micah shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He lay down in the backseat, eyes closed.
Taking advantage of the silence, I glanced at Victor. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” he asked, suspicious.
Always on the defensive. “Just asking. Driving for too many hours might not be pleasant.” He smiled, but his eyes were still on the road. “If you need to stop to stretch your legs or grab a coffee to keep you awake, we won’t mind.”
“I mind,” Micah said from the backseat.
I turned to him. “Shut up. Nobody’s talking to you.” When I glanced back at Victor, he was truly smiling. “Okay?” I asked in a helpless, gentle tone. I felt stupid.
“Okay,” he said, losing the smile and focusing on the road.
I sank down into the seat, turning up the volume and singing along, pretending everything was right in the world.
***
I was in a dark, chilly, tiny room, with stone walls and no windows. My arms ached. I looked up and, illuminated by a thin strip of moonlight, I saw my wrists wrapped by metal chains. My clothes hung in tatters and when I moved, my back scratched painfully against a rough wall.
What was this? Where was I?
Imha walked into the room, her head high, holding her stave. A black cloud followed her. I flinched. Well, that answered my mental questions and put a clamp on my spinning mind.
“Hello, Nadine,” she said, an evil smile over her red lips. “How are you?”
My face went cold. I was interacting in this vision. Oh my God!
Approaching me, Imha tsked. “It is polite to answer questions addressed to you. Didn’t your mother teach you good manners? You don’t want me to call my friends, do you?” she asked, still smiling. “Be a nice girl and tell me everything I want to know.”
I grimaced, then finally finding my voice, I asked, “What do you want to know?”
Imha laughed, like an evil queen in a fairy tale, sending goose bumps over my skin. “You know what I want. I’ve already asked you many, many times. Tell me everything and I will end your suffering.”
“Will you release me if I tell you?” I asked, trying to gain time and find out as much as I could about this vision while I tried to figure out how to go back to the present.
She laughed again. “After all you did, dear? No, no. But, if you tell me, I promise your death will be quick and clean.” Imha came closer until her face was inches from mine, her eyes sparkling with pure vice. “On the other hand, if you keep up with this silence game, I promise you, you will regret ever being born.” She kissed my cheek. Her lips were icy, and under it, my skin crackled, drying out. The withering spread, sending searing pain through my face until it reached my throat, making me gasp and choke.
The realization that I could die hit me. I tried inhaling the air that would save me, but in vain. The parching spread down to my lungs and chest. The world spun and the room became even darker. Blood trickled from my wrists as I struggled against the cuffs, and my legs went numb.
Imha sent a purple bolt from her stave to my chest. The bolt hurt as if it had opened my flesh and crushed my organs. I tried to yell, but couldn’t. However, a few seconds later—although it seemed like decades—the power of the bolt spread and the drying feeling left me. I took a deep breath, not caring that my whole body weight dangled from my bloody wrists. I didn’t have any strength left, not even to look at Imha while she laughed.
“And that is just the beginning,” she said, sauntering toward the dungeon door. With her back to me, she added, “I’ll give you a while longer. Choose wisely.”
She left. The door closed behind her, leaving me in total darkness. Despite myself, I cried.
A harsh jerk of my shoulders pulled me out of the vision. I blinked several times before being able to discern Micah’s face close to mine, his deep black eyes holding a hint of worry. Beside him stood Victor with the same worry spread over his features. He awkwardly held a towel around my naked, dripping-wet body.
My mind worked to figure out what had happened. It had been late night when we’d stopped in Fayetteville, North Carolina, to eat something and to sleep. We’d found a motel and, though I protested, we stayed in one room again. As Micah had said, it was safer to stay together in case something happened.
The last thing I remembered before being in the dungeon was taking a hot and relaxing shower. That must have been when the vision had come to me.
Super self-conscious of my unclothed state, I flushed as I pulled Micah’s hand away and tightened the towel around myself.
“What are you doing in here?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest as if my folded arms would help hide my body.
“You were screaming like a mad chicken,” Micah said.
“We called to you, but you didn’t answer,” Victor added, avoiding my gaze.
“So we forced our way in.” Micah pointed to the door behind them where I saw the broken lock.
I stepped out of the tub, found a robe hanging beside the sink, and put it on over the now soaked towel.
“I must say though,” he said, staring at me with his sly smile, “you would look good in a bikini. Much better than many famous singers.”
I rolled my eyes, the heat growing intense in my cheeks.
Finally looking at me, Victor asked, “What happened?” His soft tone sent a shiver through me.
My first instinct was to glance at my wrists, to see if they were all right.
“It was a vision, wasn’t it?” Micah asked, examining my eyes.
“Yes,” I muttered, a knot in my throat. I was about to fall, but the guys held my arms and pulled me into the bedroom, helping me sit down on the bed.
Seated beside me, Victor held my arms to stop them from shaking. “What did you see?”
“I have a better idea,” Micah said, sitting on the other bed, facing us. “Why don’t you tell us about all your visions? I don’t know what you usually see.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I wanted to tell them about my visions, but I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable sharing them. Besides, they added to my fears of insanity and the confusion inside my head.
“Please,” Victor asked. His eyes were gentle. “You said that after meeting me, you had other visions you don’t understand. Tell us.”
How could I deny him? After a deep breath, I related my past visions, all of them.
“It was horrible,” I said, stifling a sob. “I felt it all.”
“Do you think these visions are related?” Micah asked, getting up and pacing before me. “Are they showing you what is happening, or maybe what has happened?”
I noticed he was thinking out loud, but I had to add, “I wasn’t tortured in the past, if that’s what you are asking.” And I certainly hoped not to be tortured in the future.
“True, true,” he said, a thought line carved into his forehead. After a while, he turned to me. “I hope this Morgan guy knows about your visions too.”
I nodded, agreeing with him. I hoped Cheryl had been right to give me the guy’s card. I couldn’t take much more of this terror.