Escape from Eden (14 page)

“Am I that bad a kisser?”

He stood by the window, peering out through the curtains with a steely gaze.

I ignored his joke and asked, “Do you feel like you’re going to vomit?”

“No.” He let the curtain drop and rubbed a spot on his upper arm. “But I don’t feel right.” Gabriel took a few steps toward me, studying me, eyes heavy-lidded and thoughtful.

“What is it?” I asked.

He knelt before me and grazed his fingertips over the skin on my bicep. I tried not to jump at his touch. A lump had formed there.

“Is your arm sore?” he asked, lightly pressing the spot.

“Yes.” I dropped my head again, squeezing my eyes shut.

“An injection,” he said. “I wonder what they gave us.”

“Gave us?” I asked, but the words caused my abdomen to tighten.

I lifted my head then and squinted around the room. It was all white, bright. Sleek low furnishings crouched on the floor. Black-and-white photographs hung on the walls–images of the jungle and the beasts that inhabited it.

“Are we where I think we are?” I whispered as softly as I could.

“In the resort we saw from the cliff.”

“Why?”

He stood up. “I’m not sure.”

We remained silent, Gabriel pacing the floor, me staring blankly at it. My head swirled with confusion and bewilderment. Memories were cloaked by the fog in my mind. It felt as if I could reach out and touch them, like sparkling fish swimming just beneath the surface of the water. But when I tried, my head ached more.

“You’re dressed up,” I said.

His black dress shirt was damp, but it still looked pressed. His dark jeans were new, too, but he still wore his same Edenton-issued boots. He paused in the middle of a thick white rug and glanced down at himself.

“Huh,” he said. He picked up his foot and examined his boot. The edges of the sole were dark with mud. With a dismissive stomp, he wiped the mud on the rug. “Guess you’re not the only one.”

“The only one?” I looked at my lap. Oh, right. The green dress. It was pretty, flaring at the waist and draping at my knees like it did. My shoes were flat, delicate, a small leather flower curling at the top of each.

“Where did we get these clothes?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Mia. All I remember is being in the gazebo, watching you dance then … ” he trailed off, further explanation unnecessary. “Dammit,” he said, rattling the door handle. He seemed to sway on his feet, squeezing his eyes shut. He grasped the handle harder.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“This door is locked.” He paused. “Locked from the outside.”

Another wave of nausea overtook me. I hung forward again, and it helped, but only a little. “Have we been drugged?”

He stabbed his fingers through his wet hair. “Yeah, Mia. We’ve been drugged.”

“Why? Why are we here?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“And what did Thaddeus mean when he said our disappearing act caused problems? Problems for whom?”

“I suppose problems for him. Or the Reverend.”

I fought a gag. Thaddeus must have been the reason we were here and why we were like this, whatever this was. We needed to hide and gain control again. We had nothing if we didn’t have control. I lifted myself to my feet.

“We need to get out of here before Thaddeus comes back,” I said.

“Lead the way.”

“Try that door,” I said, swaying slightly as I pointed to a door at the end of the room.

Gabriel made his way to it, hanging onto furniture along the way.

“Locked,” he said.

“Window.” I pointed to the back of the room.

With a sigh, Gabriel judged the distance between himself and the window. He slumped down on the closest chair. “Probably locked.”

Next to me, on a small table, sat a heavy-based lamp. Gathering the strength I had left, I ripped its cord from the outlet and hurled the lamp across the room at the window. The lamp shattered the window into tinkling glass.

“Shit, Ricci,” Gabriel said, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but here.” I started forward on unstable legs.

“You’re in luck then,” came the voice from behind. I turned to see the Reverend in the doorway Thaddeus had dragged us through. He was flanked by guards, neither of whom I recognized. “Because you’re about to go someplace else,” he said with an eerie certainty.

Gabriel forced himself to his feet. “Where?”

“Knowledge of God’s word is the bulwark of temptation.” The Reverend stepped into the room, the guards following and fanning out on either side. “But that didn’t seem to deter the two of you. Your foray into the forbidden has cost us time.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” I said, trying to strengthen my voice.

But my put-on bravado melted away when I saw the small woman step out from behind one of the guards. It was Nurse Ivy, from the infirmary in Edenton. Her skin was thin and translucent, veins creeping blue over her arms. Her usual green scrubs were replaced by black. In her hand she held a small case. I heard the ripping sound of a zipper and she folded it open. Inside were two syringes.

The Reverend’s mouth stretched into a wide and terrible smile, teeth peeking out from behind his thick beard. “You’re going to go anywhere—and do anything—we want, child.”

Blackness. No dreams, no thoughts, only a sense of floating peace. Through the dark, a thickly accented voice hissed, “I wanted her awake, not comatose.” The razorlike anger of his tone cut through my serenity.

“She will awaken soon enough, and you can continue your evening.” I recognized Thaddeus speaking.

“There is not much evening left. You must do something about this situation.”

“We had a bit of a hiccup earlier, and we apologize,” said Thaddeus. “Time got away from us. Perhaps we should schedule another time, then?”

“No.” The word was a violent sound. “No. Remedy this now.”

I felt submerged in dark, lukewarm water. My arms tried to push against the pressure around me but they couldn’t fight it. My legs were pinned together and any attempt to move them was met with more resistance. I couldn’t fight it. Almost didn’t want to fight. I tried to pry my eyes open, but the darkness grew more comfortable, so soft, embracing me in warmth. I wanted to remain there longer. Just a little longer.

A sharp sting on my thigh jolted me out of the embracing twilight. I fought it as much as I could. A new strength bubbled up in me and chased away the tranquility, like noon-day sun bleaching out shadows. Light stabbed my eyes as I blinked awake and all I wanted to do was close them again. But I felt as if I were being watched, the force of that gaze like a lead blanket over me.

A blurry silhouette of a man sat in a chair in the corner of the room. He was big and broad-shouldered, arms hitched on the armrests as if he couldn’t pull them closer into his sides. His cruel laugh sounded around me, shaking me from the shadows.

“Finally, she wakes,” he said in a rumbling sound. He stood, and with a slow sureness, came toward me.

I wanted to scurry away, to a corner, to protect myself with my arms, but my body wouldn’t move. “Who are you?” I dragged the back of my hand over my eyes and wiped away the clouding tears. “Where am I?”

“I am only able to answer one of your questions, Mia,” he said. “Thaddeus forbids I say too much.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“I know many things about you.” He knelt by me, his face still a blur.

I blinked to try to clear my eyes again, but it seemed to only make things worse. Bright anger cut through the listlessness of my body.

“What do you know about me?” My voice was weak, yet demanding.

“You’re beautiful, you’re young.” His finger slid up my arm. “You’re devout, a member of the Flock.”

“I’m not devout,” I ground out. “And don’t touch me.”

I managed to rise up on my elbows, the room spinning around me, following the circuit of the ceiling fan. Slowly the haze over my eyes began to lift and I saw I was in an unrecognizable place. The room was dark. One light in the corner threw the room into stark relief. Heavy drapes covered the single window. They shifted occasionally as if the window behind them were open. I focused on listening and heard the telltale sounds of the jungle outside the window.

“You don’t believe you are devout? Is that so?” The man peered at me. His eyes were indistinct, not blue, not green, not hazel, not gray, but a mix of all.

“Where am I?”

“Where you’re supposed to be,” he said, standing.

“I have a feeling I’m not supposed to be here at all.”

He laughed at that, not as cruel as before, but with a hint of amusement. With his back to me all I could see was his size, the expanse of his shoulders. He half-turned to me. The side of his face was leathery, a laugh line like a parenthesis slashing down the corner of his mouth. A thick, dark eyebrow arched in question.

“Are you thirsty?” After choosing a bottle from many lined up on a long table by the door, he opened one as he spoke, hands working with agility as if he’d done that a thousand times. I heard a pop and tiny swirls of mist came from the top of the bottle.

“No,” I said. “I want to know where I am.”

He turned then, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. “You’re very demanding for someone who is here at my request.” He placed the bottle down on the long table.

“Your request? I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, but I know you, Mia. You look so much like her. But untainted by time and regret, as she is.”

“Who?” I asked, finally able to sit upright. I grabbed the edge of the seat—no the bed—to gain balance.

“Maria.”

I saw the man clearly. He stood at the end of the bed, swirling liquid in the glass, around and around in a small circular motion, a gesture I’d seen before. He was the man I’d seen in a dream when I was with Gabriel. And we were dancing. Gabriel and I were dancing—maybe doing more than dancing. A familiarity about the man had struck me in the dream, as it did now. The way he swirled his drink, his barrel chest, the hungry gleam in his eyes. Awareness slammed into me like a slap across my cheek. It was the man who watched Mama swim naked across that pool, who looked at her with a propriety in his eyes below those dark brows, as if he owned her.

“My mother’s name is Maria,” I managed to say, ignoring the tremble in my voice.

“Yes. I know Maria well. She’s been a friend for a while.”

“A friend,” I said, forcing my limbs to move, but I could only manage to remain sitting up on the bed. I glanced around the room. It had only one door, one window with a small round table next to it, no alcoves or hallways. “Is my mother here?”

He chuckled then, as if I’d said something impossibly adorable. “No.”

“What is wrong with me?” I swayed to the side, shifting so I wouldn’t tumble off the edge of the bed.

The man tipped his head back, pouring the drink into his mouth, all the while keeping eye contact with me. He swallowed loudly. Nausea bubbled in my stomach at that sound.

“That damn daft nurse. Why is she administering the medications instead of the doctor from San Sebastian is what I would like to know? They have not been very professional this evening.”

“Who are they?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, placing the glass on the table next to the door. He gazed at me, eyes lidded with a yearning, a yearning that reminded me of how he looked at Mama.

“Why am I here?”

He prowled toward me and growled, “You’re here for me.”

I shrieked, numbly grasping the bed to cower away from him. A fingernail caught on the bed and ripped, the sharp little pain lancing through my finger.

“You see?” he said, waving an arm to me on the bed. “You see!” His face was growing red with anger as he looked up into the rafters of the room. I followed his gaze and saw a tiny flashing green light. “You fools did not medicate her properly!”

“Medicate me?” I asked, feeling my stomach churn.

I had been drugged … oh, God. The vague images blinked in my head and I remembered being with Gabriel—it wasn’t a dream. I was really dancing with him, doing things with him. Flashes of him kissing me, of me kissing him back with no restraint or questions. I fought the flush overtaking me to focus on what I needed to remember. What happened in between? My mind held only snatches of memories.

“I want to go now,” I said, trying to get up again, but failing. My limbs quivered, trying to support my weight. They were weak and as useless as my own mind.

“You are not going anywhere until I get what I paid for. But I will not take it by force.” The man looked up again. “Thaddeus! Send that damned nurse here and get this girl under control! She was supposed to be compliant.”

A crackling noise sounded. “Right away, Monsieur Lambert. We apologize for the inconvenience.” It was a voice I didn’t recognize.

Monsieur Lambert laughed at that. A thick hearty laugh, a laugh that caused the bed beneath me to tremble. “They apologize,” he said, then mumbled words in what I assumed was French.

“I was supposed to be compliant?” I asked, confused. “Why?”

Monsieur Lambert sat in a chair by the window and crossed his ankle over his knee. “They truly keep all of you in the dark. It’s quite miraculous.” He barked a laugh. “Leave it to the Reverend to perform miracles while delivering the innocent unto sin.”

“Enough, Lambert.” Thaddeus stood in the doorway. “You’ve already said too much to her.”

“What does it matter?” said Lambert, crossing his arms over his bulky chest.

The short sleeves of his shirt strained over his arms, his fleshy skin swelling in bulges beneath the fabric. A breeze fluttered the curtains, and stringy strands of black hair flipped forward over his forehead. He raked them back with mild disgust.

“Isn’t erasing the memory what you do best?” Lambert continued. “She will remember nothing of this, so I can tell her anything I please. I’ve done the same with her mother, told her secrets and stories, yet each time we meet is like the first time.” He stood. “Speaking of the first time, I’d like to move this along. I’ve waited long enough and I grow anxious.”

I felt an icy-cold hand take my arm.

“Thaddeus,” Lambert said. “That woman does not know what she’s doing with those drugs! This is not like the times with Maria!”