Deadly Expectations (21 page)

“Alina!”
I gasped, sitting up.

“What?” Paul mumbled.
 
I stayed sitting, breathing hard.
 
He propped himself up on one elbow and put his hand on my chest.

“Lie back down,” he said.
 
“Bad dream.”

Soft sounds reached my ears.
 
As my breathing quieted I figured out what it was.
 
“Do you hear her crying?” I whispered.

“No,” he lay back down.

I listened.
 
We’d been leaving the door open to Ray and Denis’ adjoining room at night.
 
Paul felt it was safer and at least we could all sleep.
 
Anyone trying to get in would wake everyone up.

“It’s coming from the other room,” I whispered.
 
“I think it’s her.”

“What?” Paul was awake now.

“The woman in the mirror,” I got out of bed and tip toed to the open door.

“Anna, come back here.”

“No.”

I paused at the door to the other room and looked toward their bathroom.
 
He came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you see the light from the bathroom?”
 
I asked him.
 
It moved like how the light from a TV moves with the action on the screen.

“No I … what the hell?” Paul sounded tired.

“The crying; it’s coming from in there.”

“I don’t hear it,” he said.
 
“But the light is wrong.”

I stepped through toward it.
 
I didn’t care if Paul followed or not because I had to know why she was crying.

The sound grew stronger as I stepped in.
 
Soft, exhausted sobs.
 
She was very pregnant; her white t-shirt stretched snugly over her belly.
 
One arm tight around her ribs holding the elbow of the hand that covered her mouth.
 

“Anna …” I whispered to my mismatched reflection and put my hands on the glass.
 
The light was on in the bathroom she was in.
 
Its glow lit up Ray and Denis’ things on the counter.

“Oh Jesus,” Paul said.

I looked over at him.
 
He held the door frame with both hands, gaping at the mirror.

“Captain?”
Denis whispered over the sound of their blankets moving as they got quickly out of bed.

I looked back at the mirror and touched her face with my hand.

“Where is she?” Paul whispered.
 
He could see that the bathroom in the mirror wasn’t the same one we were standing in.

“It’s my tenant’s bathroom … she doesn’t know we’re here.”

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned her back on us to blow her nose.
 
The light went out and as she walked away I heard the low rumble of a descending plane.
 
I put my fists on the glass.

“Run to the bedroom run to the bedroom run to the bedroom …” I chanted.
 
The roar became deafening; the glass vibrated under my hands.

Suddenly both bathrooms exploded with hot orange light; the other one with fire.
 
I heard her scream.
 
Paul grabbed me from behind to pull me back and I fought hard to stay near the glass.

“No!”
I yelled at him.

I struggled to keep my hands on the mirror as its companion in the other bathroom shattered into orange pieces.
 
They fell away in chunks leaving black spaces in the fire until it was gone and I stood trembling in Paul’s arms.

“Get the light Ray,” he said quietly.

The mirror was intact.
 
Paul held on to me tightly.

“I thought the dream would make me disappear,” I told him.

“You’re not dreaming,” he said.
 
“We all saw it.”

I shook my head.
 
“The dream that woke me … I was dead at Damian’s feet.
 
He killed Alina, dropped her body on me … it woke me up.
 
Then I heard her crying.
 
You saw all that?”

“Yes.
 
Come on,” he led me back to our room.

I sat in the small hotel armchair, sticking one knee out and pulling the other up to my chest.

“I never thought it was going to be real,” I told him.
 
“She always knows things … things that come true.
 
She lies to me sometimes to get me to do the right thing.
 
But I just saw it happen to me … her … I’m going to be there when the airliner comes down by my house.”

Paul knelt down beside my chair.
 
He put his hands on my shoulders and gently shook me until I looked at him.

“Did she say anything?” he asked.

I shook my head.
 
“Just crying … something terrible must have happened.
 
But I don’t understand why she would be there.
 
That’s Mrs. Desmond’s suite upstairs.
 
Nothing would get me to go back there now that the plane is really coming.
 
It must have made sense to go anyway … I know at least that she’ll survive the crash.

“I just thought she was all in my mind.
 
But when I saw her a few weeks ago she had flames on both arms … I still had just one.
 
She was in my bathroom at my house then but this time she was upstairs.
 
It’s not what I saw in the mirror that scares me.
 
I’ve seen her and the plane come down many times.
 
It’s the dream about Alina that bothers me.”

Paul thought for a moment.

“Do you want to call her?
 
I think you should reassure yourself that she’s fine.”

I sighed and smiled weakly.

“Yes.
 
If she was on shift last night she’ll still be up.”

Then I frowned.
 
“What if he’s there?”

“Just end the call nicely.
 
Remember he hasn’t met you yet and we don’t want to cause a problem for your sister.”

I got my phone.
 
A man did answer.
 
I pulled Paul over to listen.

“Alina?”
I asked.

“No,” the man’s voice laughed.
 
“You missed her by an hour.
 
She’s gone into work.
 
It’s Damian.”

I was glad I was sitting because I was suddenly weak.
 
Paul held his breath beside me; what I could make out of his expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” I managed.
 
“I can try her again another time.”

“Is this Anna?” he asked.
 
“You sound just like her.”

“Yes … I just wanted to let her know I’m up and around now.
 
I’ll try her again in a few days.
 
Can you give her the message?”

“Sure,” he said.

I said thanks and hung up then I gave the phone to Paul.
 
I didn’t feel any better.
 
All I knew was that Damian said she was okay.

“We know where he is … can’t we just go get him?” I asked.

“It’s not that easy,” Paul explained.
 
“We can’t just go run an operation like that in another country.”

“That’s bullshit Paul,” I hissed.

He sighed.
 
“It’s not that simple.
 
My CO is aware of your sister.
 
He’s working on it.”

“I’m sorry.
 
I know you’re doing all you can … maybe some fresh air will help,” I put my hands behind his head and pulled him close to kiss him before I stood up.
 
“I thought I left my anger at home.
 
I didn’t mean to take anything out on you.
 
Maybe I should have lied about who I am.”

“He knew already,” Paul said.
 
“That would have been suspicious.
 
You did the right thing.”

I stuffed my shoes on and pulled my coat over my pyjamas.

“Denis?” I called.
 
“
You going
out for a smoke?”

“Yeah Anna, just a sec.”

Denis and I went out to the little table and chairs outside the door.
 
I sank back in my chair and listened to him smoke.
 
Breathing in and out.
 
Picking out the gentle crackling sounds of the bits of tobacco igniting.
 
Focusing on it was relaxing but the blackness that had returned to my mood wasn’t so easy to push back.

Absently I reached for the pack and took one.
 
I grabbed his metal lighter and opened my eyes just enough to make sure that the flame touched the end of the cigarette.
 
I pulled the smoke down deep in my lungs as I welcomed my old lover.

He slid the cigarette pack and the lighter off the table and I heard them go in his pocket.
 
Then he left.

Asshole, I thought.

Always stingy with the fags.
 
He’d go complain that I stole it … have it put in my file.
 
Screw with my chances for promotion.
 
I didn’t care.
 
The army had me exactly where they wanted me doing exactly what I did best.

Killing.

How many was it yesterday?
 
Fifteen?
 
We’d pushed our way up the hill through the bush and I took them down until I ran out of enemy.
 
It bothered me that I’d lost count.
 
I took another drag and retraced my steps acting out my movements as I relived each kill in my mind, counting them up.

What are you doing?

I put my finger to my lips to tell him to be quiet.
 
The goddamn Lieutenant.
 
He’d get promoted faster if he’d just back off and let me do my job.
 
I paused for another pull on my cigarette and kept counting.
 
He cleared his throat and I ignored him.

Twenty-one, I smiled to myself.

What are you doing with the cigarette, Andre?

I put a hand on my knife.
 
“If you can show me another man here who even came close to taking out twenty-one of those sons-of-bitches like I did yesterday then you can complain about me bumming a fag from someone who has more of them than he knows what to do with.
 
I think I deserve one before you send me back up that fucking hill.”

What?

“It’s my numbers that got you promoted … maybe think about backing off.”

It wasn’t like me to be so blatantly insubordinate, especially in front of the others but the man had to know he hadn’t done it all by himself.

Look at me.