AN EXPLOSION ECHOED across a desert landscape, creating a rockslide. The roadrunner had quick reflexes, however, and sped around the obstacle. The vintage cartoon played on the wall-mounted TV in the workshop garage, with the volume low, as it was still the early morning hours. Andrew sat in his mint-green flannel pajamas and a white terrycloth robe, eating cereal. The cartoon was a recording, as Saturday morning cartoons were a long-dead tradition. Re-enacting it every week was a private guilty pleasure he allowed himself.
Sarah, in a suit and holding a briefcase, appeared in the doorway to the house. She watched her husband for a moment, a mix of amusement and love in her eyes.
“I would tell you that you need to grow up, but you make it look so inviting.”
“Get Saturdays off and you can join me.”
Sarah’s look made it clear that wasn’t happening. “The kids are up. Don’t forget, you promised to make pancakes.”
“The batter’s already made. I just need to—”
A beep from the workbench interrupted them. Andrew pushed aside a pile of cables to reveal the handheld tracking device. The little vector graphic map lit up, showing the familiar stretch of rural road. A faint green dot was blinking.
Andrew stood, spilling cereal all over his pajamas. “Shit!”
Sarah frowned, glancing at the calendar. “I thought it’s not for another—”
“It wasn’t. Something must be wrong.” He looked at the tracker, then at his wife.
Sarah sighed and set her briefcase down. “I’ll make the pancakes.”
“You’re a hero, dear—”
“Just go.”
Andrew scrambled to grab the tracker and a keyring hanging on a nail and punched the garage door button. Before it had risen all the way, he hurried under it, making for his truck. A moment later, the vehicle was skidding wildly out of the driveway.
Sarah stared at the lawn, where a tire track now marred the carefully manicured grass. She hit the garage door button and started carefully taking off her pressed jacket.
In the truck, Andrew grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the glove box and lit one. What had gone awry? He briefly tried to game out scenarios, all of them ending in injury or drama. But whatever the case, if he didn’t make sure the road was clear… the armor was strong, but Andrew wasn’t convinced it would withstand a point-blank high speed collision.
Thanks to the pre-dawn lack of traffic, it wasn’t long before Andrew left the city behind. When he skidded his pickup truck to a halt outside the tunnel, the sunrise was still a way off. He grabbed a flashlight and ran out into the road by the mouth of the tunnel, still in his pajamas and bathrobe, and scanned the pavement. Locating the recently asphalted divot in the road, he scrambled to place orange cones in a wide berth around it.
He’d just lit another cigarette when headlights played across the road. Andrew turned to see a station wagon approaching. It slowed as it reached him, and leaning out the window was a man in his sixties wearing a hat adorned with fishing flies.
“What’s this?” He demanded.
“Emergency road service, sir—”
The fisherman surveyed Andrew’s pajamas. “You don’t look like someone from public works.”
“Er… my yellow vest is in the truck.” Andrew pointed, but realized he’d also forgotten to the put the magnetic sign on the door.
The fisherman gave a pitying look, as though he’d decided Andrew must be an escapee from a psychiatric facility. The station wagon surged forward, driving around the cones.
“Sir, no! Please stop!” Andrew ran after him, but the station wagon accelerated into the tunnel.
Scrambling back, Andrew looked at the tracker. The green dot was bright and clear now. It beeped faster and faster, then finally went solid.
Thoom. The machine appeared at full speed, roaring into the tunnel. Gravel popped into the air. Andrew leaned back to avoid being pulled off his feet as the gravity wave hit him.
Behind the wheel, Jake was braced for a crisis. Seeing the rapidly approaching rear of the station wagon, he cranked the wheel. The Machine swerved, barely skating by. With a loud crack, the station wagon’s driver-side mirror ripped off.
As the chrome object bounced down the tunnel, spraying bits of broken mirror, the fisherman white-knuckled his wheel, trying not to lose control. After the vehicle stabilized, he finally had the presence of mind to honk — but by then the Machine was long gone.
Andrew, still standing in the road, breathed a sigh of relief. He brought his cigarette up for a drag, but it was dead. Placing the butt in his pajama pocket, he took out his phone.
Andrew: What happened??
Jake: Will explain later.
Before Andrew could reply, another text came in.
Sarah: Pancakes made. Reminder: our agreement was this business can continue as long as it doesn’t start negatively affecting our children.
Andrew sighed. She was right, of course. He sent an apologetic text, then returned to the truck to get the shovel and another cigarette. As he puffed away in his pajamas, shoveling asphalt, he stewed on what this development might mean. He hoped it wouldn’t take them nearer the moment he’d always feared — where something had to give.
The spectacular transition out of the red void had given Kate a high, followed by a low. The normal world looked strangely off... somehow less crisp, and more shabby. It almost made her feel nauseous. The sensation got worse as she watched the approach of the desert motel with its dead leaves and hunched cottonwood trees. Why were they in this godforsaken place?
In the rearview, Jake saw her confused look.
“I drop these guys off at a motel of my choosing.” Except I usually don’t choose the same place twice. This was the closest option, however, and he wanted to be rid of Hector. Hopefully, the manager on duty would be different this time. Jake undid his seatbelt. Blinking in the still-painful blue light, he braced himself for a voyage into the world.
“Wait,” Kate said, shaking off the odd melancholy to refocus. “I need to call the hospital. Can you leave your phone?”
Jake didn’t like that idea for several reasons, but the most important was he’d planned on using the privacy in the motel to talk to O’Brien.
“I need to call someone and make sure Hector won’t come after us.”
“Dr. Morgenstern’s life is in the balance!”
Jake hesitated. Looking at Hector asleep in the passenger seat, it was easy to visualize the timer running on his sedation.
“I could make the call for her?” V offered.
“Keep it brief. I can’t imagine the police are ready to trace a call, but after that situation at the hospital, I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“Can you at least untie me before you go? My wrists hurt.”
Jake looked at the towel, which Hector had done a disturbingly good job of tying. After a moment’s debate, he reached back and started prying at the restraint.
“Thank you.” Kate decided to press her luck. “Can V also call me an Uber?”
“A what?”
“Uber. Lyft. You know, a rideshare.” To Kate’s bemusement, Jake just stared blankly at her. She realized this strange occupation must create odd gaps in his knowledge. The same happened to her sometimes, due to hyper-focus and long periods of work hermitage. She had a flicker of empathy for the guy.
“It’s like a taxi, but with an app you can hire someone to drive you places—”
“Just stay put, okay?”
“You are going to let me go eventually, right?”
“Yes, but I can’t just have you running around willy-nilly! This is a tricky situation.” Jake finished undoing her wrists, but didn’t let them go, and instead held them firmly. “And if you’re thinking about plotting anything crazy, or trying to signal for the police, remember that I just saved your life from this lunatic.”
Staring through the red lenses into Jake’s eyes, Kate’s feelings swirled. Gratitude, sure, but anger as well. Having her wrists freed only to immediately be gripped by the restrictive hands just reminded her that all day her fate had been tossed around at the whims of others. She was over it.
“Just to be clear — you mean I should be grateful to you for saving my life from the lunatic that you helped kidnap me?”
“I told him not to bring you.” Jake bristled. “If it’d been up to me, the job would’ve gone smoothly, and you’d be safe and sound back at the hospital.”
“Oh, so only my mentor would’ve been kidnapped? Yes, I see now. You’re a real hero.”
“I never said I was a hero! I’m a criminal. If you can’t do as I ask for any other reason, do it because you know I’m dangerous.”
“The only data I have is you punching someone who was already unconscious. Not sure I’d categorize that as ‘dangerous’, exactly.”
Kate’s deadpan delivery would’ve made Jake laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off. He got out of the car and slammed the door.
Shortly, he was in the musty motel hallway, rolling Hector along in the rickety courtesy wheelchair. He found the correct door and jammed the key into the sticky lock. Jangling the plastic keyring around until it opened, Jake pushed inside.
He dumped the man on the bed, followed by his hollowed-out bible and gun. Proceeding to make coffee, he stirred the recovery powder in and scribbled his usual note advising to drink it.
Jake was contemplating adding ‘P.S. - GET THERAPY’ when Hector muttered something in his sleep. Shifting on the bed, his sinewy hands twitched a few times before lying still.
This behavior didn’t sit well with Jake. It had already been nagging him that Hector seemed awfully alert during the last part of their argument in the car. Normally a client was dozing off by then, or at least yawning and fighting it off. A chill went through Jake as he wondered if Hector had maybe done something to try and counteract the drugs. This worrisome train of thought was interrupted by an alert from his phone.
O: Andrew said you’re back already??
Jake expected to have this unpleasant conversation, but not so soon. Resigned to it, he dialed. A familiar Irish accent blustered in his ear.
“What the hell is going on?” The anger in O’Brien’s voice wasn’t something Jake had heard much in his life. But then again, he’d never botched a job like this before.
Giving a last glance to make sure Hector was still asleep, Jake slipped into the hall and braced himself for a tough conversation.
Back in the car, Kate leaned forward pensively as she listened to a man’s voice coming through the speakers.
“I can only give out information to a family member…”
“She doesn’t have any family, but there’s a release on file under my name—”
“I’m not seeing it on my computer.”
“Well, is there another computer? Because—”
“Sorry, can I put you on a brief hold?”
Before Kate could respond, the man’s voice was replaced by a track playing synth orchestral versions of 1980s pop songs.
It may have been that Kate was overdue to take her medication, but she had to resist screaming at the top of her lungs. Settling for a fierce exhale out of her nose, she sat listening to a tinny muzak rendition of Forever Young and rubbed her sore wrists.
“I’m sorry the hospital isn’t being more expedient,” V said. “You’re exerting admirable restraint.”
“Oh trust me, I was about to unleash a stream of profanity at the guy.”
“Perhaps being put on hold was for the best, then? As Alexander Pope said, ‘To swear is neither brave, nor polite, nor wise.’”
“I prefer Mark Twain. ‘Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.’”
Silence ensued. Kate tried to ascertain if V was considering her words or judging her, but the glassy eye revealed nothing as to what was going on behind it.
“Jake doesn’t seem to share your feelings about profanity.”
“He does swear occasionally, it’s true. And I realize this situation does not reflect well on his character, but I assure you, he has—”
“A good heart, yeah, I got it.” Kate wanted to argue, but V’s unabashed sincerity left her not having the energy for it. It felt liked it’d be scolding someone’s pet rabbit.
“If I might inquire.” V hesitated. “Are you single at the moment?”
Kate blinked. What a strange question to be asked by a criminal robot muscle car.
“I am, but why do you ask?”
“Oh, you know, just collecting data.”
“Who programmed you?”
V’s tone shifted, getting a little less friendly. “I’m sorry. We’ve touched on a topic that I’m not allowed to discuss.”
“Then I guess my next question — about who manufactured you — is also off limits?”
“Correct.” V’s tone softened. “No offense intended. If it’s comforting to hear, not even Jake has access to that information.”
Kate contemplated what that might mean. Jake didn’t build or program the car. Was he maintaining it? Where did he get it? She was contemplating Hector’s suggestion that Jake had stolen it when the muzak cut out.
“Hello, Ms. Faraday?” The man’s voice returned, slightly less stiff this time, and Kate assumed he’d found her release. “The coma was induced successfully. However, a few days later, Dr. Morgenstern was brought out of it.”
“Why?”
“Due to her deteriorating condition. After she became conscious, she refused further treatment, and was checked out of the hospital by an… Ingrid Bergström?”
Kate didn’t like the sound of that. “Did she say where to?”
“Possibly hospice? Unfortunately, we don’t have any further information.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help.”
The call ended. At her behest, V dialed Ingrid, but there was no answer. Kate sat, trying to analyze what this could mean, but she didn’t have enough data.
“I need to go home.”
“That location is probably not safe at the moment.”
“We can’t be sure of that.”
“True. Let’s wait for Jake to return and see what his opinion is.”
Kate reluctantly nodded. While she didn’t feel like she was in imminent danger, she still didn’t trust Jake or this strange AI-driven vehicle. She needed to get free of this situation, so she could start trying piecing together what to do next for her mentor.
Her gaze fell on the passenger side door where the old school lock peg protruded. She wanted to just yank it upward and jump out. Assuming that wouldn’t be possible as long as V didn’t allow it, a small and feeble plan started to form in Kate’s mind.
She looked pensively out the window. “So, I’ve got low blood sugar. Maybe the motel has a snack machine?”
“One moment—” V said. A compartment in Kate’s door popped open. Inside were protein bars, along with a few small bags of crackers and chips.
“Gee. Great.” So much for that plan. She took a protein bar and nibbled on it while formulating another. “I don’t suppose you have a ladies’ room hidden away somewhere?”
“Er, no, sorry.”
“Could I hop out and use the lobby restroom? I really need to go.”
“Jake will return shortly—”
“It’s kind of an emergency.” She ratcheted the anxiety in her voice. “I promise to come right back.”
The glassy eye on the dash observed Kate for a long moment as V processed the request.
Kate sensed she was making headway, and she had to force herself not to appear too eager. Below her anticipation, however, lay an odd desire to stay inside the car. Not to appease Jake, or V, but somehow related to that odd nauseous feeling she’d had on arrival. The world outside still didn’t look quite right, and the truth was, she had no idea what she might face out there today. Kate had the odd intrusive thought that something invisible was right outside the window, waiting for her, its translucent teeth bared and ready.
July 10th??….Ah, come on! Can you tell I am liking this story?