“It hurts . . .”
“Yeah. I fig you dislocated your shoulder. I can pop it back in but we have to get you better situated. Just try to stay still, okay? What’s your name?”
“I can’t do this . . .”
“Yes you can. You’ll be okay. Listen, I couldn’t find cards on you. What’s your name?”
“H-Hannah.”
“Hi, Hannah. I’m Martin Salgado. I want you to relax now, all right? I’m here to help.”
The man directed his voice at someone she couldn’t see. “Turn her on three. Ready? One . . . two . . . three.”
Hannah sensed three different hands on her body. They tilted her two inches to the right, triggering another sharp jolt in her shoulder. She squealed in agony.
“Sorry,” said Martin. “No avoiding that. But the good news is that I got an epallay right here with your name on it. Just stay easy.”
He slid a smooth board beneath her before rolling her flat again. With a soft electric whirr, Hannah rose three feet off the sidewalk.
Martin stood at her side with an adhesive bandage in his grip—fire-red, with a white “E” in the middle. He peeled it off and pressed it against Hannah’s injured shoulder.
“What is that? What did you put on me?”
“That’s the epallay,” he told her. “In a few minutes, you won’t feel the pain.”
Just outside her view, Martin’s partner gently pushed Hannah forward. She rode with eerie steadiness, like she was riding an oiled track. She thought about the baby stroller and wondered if she now had to add herself to the ever-growing list of things that shouldn’t be floating.
The wall of bystanders opened up. A middle-aged woman crunched her brow at Hannah’s two handlers.
“Hey, shouldn’t you fellas wait for the police?”
“Mind your own,” said Martin.
Hannah grabbed his wrist. “Wait, you guys aren’t cops?”
Martin laughed amicably. He hadn’t heard that word in decades. “No, we’re Salgado Security, a private contract firm. I’m the proprietor. The one pushing you is my son Gerry. We’re gonna take good care of you.”
“No, no. Wait. Stop. Stop. I don’t want this.”
“Listen, Hannah, I don’t mean to be quick with you, but we’re on a bite here—”
“No, you don’t understand. I need to wake up. None of this is happening. I need to wake up.”
Martin raised his palm. The floating stretcher stopped. While he rummaged through his shoulder bag, Hannah craned her head at Martin’s young and burly son. Tears flowed up her temples.
“I can’t take it anymore. Help me. Please.”
“Dad . . .”
“I got it,” said Martin, while unwrapping another adhesive. This one was black and square, the size of a fingernail. He peeled it from the paper and then affixed it to Hannah’s neck.
“What was that? What—”
“Baby spot. It’s a mood-lifter. In two minutes, you’ll feel a whole lot better.”
The stretcher moved again. She floated thirty feet to the edge of a parked green van.
“Wait. Wait. Where are you taking me?”
“It’s all right. I’m bringing you to folks who’ll be able to help you.”
“Who?”
“Nice people,” said Martin. “Smart people. They hired us to find you all and bring you back to safety. You’ll be okay. Trust me.”
The Salgados loaded her into the van. Once inside, Martin sat Hannah up in her stretcher and popped her arm back into its socket. All the pain fled her body in a quick and glorious instant.
“Wow. That’s . . .”
Martin smiled. “Told you.”
By the time he finished wrapping her arm in a cozy black sling, the baby spot on her neck had opened every dark curtain in her head, flooding her with sunshine. Suddenly she could see the overwhelming positives of her situation. Maybe these clients of Martin’s were as smart and nice as he said they were. Maybe they’d make perfect sense of everything. And if they could find Hannah, maybe they could also find Amanda and Mom and everyone else she knew and cared about. All the good people of Earth, gathered up like pilgrims to start a happy new society. It had the potential to be wonderful. Hannah could run the theater.
As the engine started, the actress found herself smiling for the first time today. She smiled at the people on the street. She smiled at the floating cars she couldn’t see. She smiled at the flying saucer that served brunch on weekends. She smiled at the thought of mimosas over San Diego.
Soon the van pulled a U-turn. Hannah turned her head and smiled at the bus she’d collided with. She could see through the window, to the sprawling web of cracks on the opposite glass. She was pretty sure she caused that damage, but she wasn’t remotely bothered. It was a brave new world with strange new rules, and Hannah smiled at the possibilities.
FOUR