Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One) (4 page)

“Screw it up?” asked Sarah. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean Ms. Negative Nelly better not appear. Tell him that ‘Oh, it’s not good timing for me. There’s too much going on in my life. I’m not ready to date right now.’ You know, all that crap you come up with when you talk yourself out of something,” Rachel rattled on.

“Well, it’s true. I’m not really ready to date,” said Sarah, but she wondered at the same time if that was accurate. She had not anticipated this, but now that it was here, she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of eagerness. Bits of butterflies stirred in her stomach. She’d almost forgotten that feeling existed. A man had shown interest in her, and a nice-looking one at that. Her mind began to whirl with thoughts. Was this a good idea? Did he really like her? What should she say when he showed up?

“Ladies,” Arnie said as he arrived on the scene. “Glad you’re back from lunch, but it’s time to get back to work please. We have afternoon customers arriving, and they need assistance.”

Both women were startled out of their enthusiastic talk, and reluctantly, they returned to their tasks. Rachel realized that a customer was patiently waiting to complete a purchase and Sarah headed back into the aisles, ready to help where needed, but with thoughts of John Ramsey flipping through her head. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours until her fifteen-minute break, then another two hours before her shift was over. Would he show up? Should she look for him, or let him find her? She made a mental note to head over to the Health section at some point to look for a home remedies book. She sighed and shook her head, trying to clear her brain. It was going to be a long afternoon.

**

AN HOUR AWAY, Ramsey pulled up the driveway of the safe house, hit the button on his visor, and pulled his car into the garage. The house was one of many owned and used by the Council when certain jobs or meetings necessitated a private place to meet. This particular one had frequently been used by Ramsey and Leroy in the past, and it remained their back-up meeting place when conditions warranted.

He opened his door and got out, hitting the button again to close the garage door. He would normally park in the circular driveway, but there were certain instances where parking in the garage provided necessary cover when he preferred not to be noticeable to anyone driving by. And judging by the tone in Leroy’s voice, this could be one of those times.

He walked in through the garage door. Leroy sat at the kitchen table, not doing anything in particular except sitting and watching out the window. His narrow-cut shirt emphasized his large frame and muscular arms and torso, a feature which consistently irritated Ramsey since he’d never once seen Leroy set foot in a gym or do an ounce of exercise.

“Leroy,” he said as he came into the room and sat down next to his friend.

“Sherlock,” Leroy responded.

“Wow, is it that serious?” asked Ramsey. “You’re not your usual vivacious self, my friend.”

Leroy’s expression didn’t change. “I did some digging on your assignment for you. I may have an idea as to why Morgana is so interested in this case. Why all of the councilors are interested.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” said Ramsey. “Lay it on me. What is it that’s got you and Morgana so squirrely?” Sitting there, he could feel Leroy’s ambivalence. They had been friends for a long time, and he couldn’t recall when he’d seen his friend this concerned. Well, there had been one previous time, but that had been a long time ago.

“What did they tell you about her?” asked Leroy.

Ramsey thought about it. “She’s a Gray-Line human, so I’m going to have to be careful not to reveal too much. The Council thinks she could experience some unusual symptoms.” He recalled Sarah’s past from her file. “As expected, her year’s been difficult. Her mother died eight months ago. She lost her corporate job and the family home not long after. For the past five months, she’s been working at the bookstore where her aunt helped her find work. It’s the typical upheaval for anyone about to transition.” He paused. “I was planning on playing this by ear. She could be a simple case, or I might have to get more involved. I’ll have to wait and see.”

He waited for Leroy to say something. “Well?” he asked. “What is it?”

“She’s a Shifter,” said Leroy.

Ramsey stared dumbly at his friend. “Please tell me you’ve got more than that, Leroy, and that I didn’t just drive an hour for you to tell me something you could have told me on the phone. I know that. Why else would the C squad want me on this, when they could have easily gone with another Protector.”

“It’s more than that.” Leroy stopped for a moment, as if unsure what to say, before finally deciding to be direct. “I think she might be a Red-Line.”

Ramsey didn’t say anything. After a moment, his smile broke out, his posture relaxed, and he chuckled. “Leroy, what are you talking about? There hasn’t been a Red-Line in over sixty years. It’s not possible. You know that.”

Leroy did not respond in kind, his expression remaining sober. “It’s possible,” he said. “I haven’t figured it all out yet. Don’t know the how or why, but I think that’s what she is.”

Ramsey sat still, judging whether or not his friend had taken some sort of behaviorally altering substance. He knew of Red-Lines because two of them still lived and were on the current council, although how much longer they would last was questionable. They weren’t spring chickens, so to speak. He tried to imagine how such a thing could happen, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The two still alive were the only ones who’d survived, leaving only Gray-Lines to exist on the planet. Even now, the reason for the untimely deaths of the Red-Lines years ago remained a mystery.

“You’re not making sense, Leroy. If that were the case, the Council would’ve taken her off the streets months ago. They’d be handling it personally. They sure as hell wouldn’t give her to me. That’s the last thing they’d do.”

“Is it?” asked Leroy, leaning forward. “Think about it, Sherlock. They don’t want to draw attention to her. If she is what I think, she’s the first female Red-Line in a very long time. We don’t know what she’s capable of, and likely neither does the Council. The two Reds left remember little from the past and are basically figureheads now. She may be the key to answering questions about our people we wouldn’t even think of asking. If they bring her in and handle it themselves, then likely the word will get out, and then she potentially becomes a target for any loon who wants to see, study, or even use her. It puts her in danger and exposes them as well, especially if they botch it. And why would they handle it? None of them are under sixty-five years of age. Most of them haven’t handled anyone in three decades, and certainly no one like her. They need someone with experience, someone with a background in difficult shifts, and who has a history of stirring up trouble. Someone who…” He stopped and looked at Ramsey.

Ramsey understood. “Someone who won’t get personally involved due to past circumstances, is that it?” He stared back at his friend.

Neither of them said anything until Leroy answered him. “It’s certainly an added bonus in a case like this. You know they’ll have plans for her, and they’ll want as little interference as possible.”

“Then I guess I’m their man.” Ramsey sat still, trying to process everything Leroy said. “And if I botch it, I’m the perfect scapegoat. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That pretty well sums it up.”

Ramsey shifted back in his seat. “You certainly know how to tell it like it is, Leroy.”

“I don’t beat around the bush, my friend. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. It’s why I trust you.” Ramsey thought for a moment before continuing. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, still uncertain. “If you’re right, I could be walking into one big mess.”

“There’s too much secrecy about this one. When I went to pull her file, something that should be accessible by me, it was off-limits. When I asked around, I was basically told to mind my own business. The kicker was Morgana and the Council. You said she was there today? Out in the field? When I tried to reach her, they were in their Connection ceremony. She literally got back from speaking with you, and they went straight into their meeting. They rarely get together more than once a month nowadays. I know when something’s up.”

“Yes, but none of that is proof that she’s a Red-Line.”

“No, it isn’t, but when you put it together with the Mirror, then I knew it was big.”

“The Mirror? What do you mean?”

“The Eudoran Mirror? You’ve heard of it, right?” asked Leroy.

“Well, yes, but I thought that was myth, old-timer musings. It’s never been real.” Ramsey struggled to remember the stories his grandmother had told him when he was little.

“I didn’t think so either, at first. But when I couldn’t reach Morgana, I went to see her personally, thinking I could get her to tell me something face to face. When I got there, her sniveling assistant, Jenkins, told me she was in council, something I doubt she would have wanted me to know. When I turned to leave, his phone rang. Based on what I heard him say, I’m sure it was Morgana, but he played dumb. As I walked out, I heard him mention a mirror. Something about that made me perk up, so when I left the office, I stopped just outside the room, where I could hear him. He talked with her about removing it from the Council’s private vault. I didn’t hear any more than that. Now that’s either one expensive cosmetic mirror, or the stories are true.”

Ramsey let it percolate. “It’s still a stretch. This could be one giant misunderstanding. She may be just another difficult Shift about to happen.”

“Maybe.” Leroy stared and waited. “But what’s your gut tell you? You called me, remember?”

Ramsey couldn’t deny that, but this was turning out to be bigger than he had anticipated. Even so, and despite the evidence Leroy presented, he still thought it was unlikely. But he couldn’t help but wonder. If it were true, then the repercussions—well, the repercussions were greater than he could imagine. How would he handle a Red-Line Shift? How would she handle it? What would he tell her? Was she in danger? Why didn’t the Council reveal what they knew? There were so many unknowns.

“I don’t know a damn thing about Red-Lines, Leroy.”

“Neither do I, but if that’s what she is, then we have a lot to talk about. We need to make some arrangements.” He paused. “But you need to be sure.”

“To be sure?”

“That you want to do this. You still have a way out, especially after your altercation with Morgana this afternoon. And I know you. If you commit to this, you’ll be there till the end, wherever it leads. You ready for that?”

Ramsey nodded his head in acknowledgement, already knowing his answer. “Regardless of whatever the Council’s got up their sleeve, there’s still the issue of Sarah, who’s about to walk into a much bigger mess than I am, if you’re right. And for some reason, I already feel obligated to her. So yes, I’m in.”

“Then let’s get started.” And without tracking the time, they began the long conversation, comparing what they each knew about Sarah, the Council, Red-Lines, the Mirror, and what steps to take next. Ramsey’s usual style of flying by the seat of pants would not work in this case. If he ever needed a plan, it was right now.

THE NEXT MORNING, Sarah sat at the kitchen table in her apartment, looking out the window. A gentle rain fell against the pane, making soft splatters against the glass. It was gray outside, with rain forecasted for the rest of the day. She wasn’t focused on anything in particular, even though her computer was open in front of her. It showed only a blank page, with the cursor blinking its typical monotonous rhythmic pulse. A moment later, the page winked out and a screen saver of space scenes took its place. The earth, as pictured from the moon, came into view on the screen.

She paid no attention. She’d sat this way for the last hour as her mind wandered. She would occasionally start typing, but then delete what she wrote. Her lethargy plagued her. She was normally a focused person, had her schedule planned, stayed on task, met her deadlines, never wavered from a job until it was completed. But these last few months, she’d found herself procrastinating, putting her work off till later. She would daydream, often finding that several minutes would go by without realizing it. Her lack of sleep worried her. She’d had a bad dream last night and hadn’t slept since. That, combined with the fact that he hadn’t showed yesterday, hadn’t come to see her at the bookstore as he said he would, had tipped her scales in a bad direction. She’d called in sick. She knew Arnie would be displeased and that Rachel would worry, but she didn’t care. She hated to admit it, but he’d gotten to her, and she had been hoping to see him.

She sighed and looked back at her computer. She thought she would write Aunt Gerry in hopes of getting her mind off things. She didn’t want to call, because she knew Gerry would ask too many questions that she did not want to answer. She resisted actually bringing her fingers to the keyboard, though, and eventually closed the computer in frustration. She was tired. Her eyes hurt. She was depressed. She wanted to go back to bed, but she knew that was pointless. Even though she still sat in her robe, had not showered, and her nutritional intake for the day had been only two cups of coffee, she would not throw in the towel. She had to accomplish something before she got up from the chair. She took a deep breath, opened the computer, and started typing again.

“Dear Aunt Gerry, I wanted to write and say, ‘Hi.’ Things here are…” She paused for a moment, thinking, and took her fingers off the keyboard. Her eyes wandered back to the window, back to the rain’s pitter-patter on the glass. She rested her chin in her palm. Her eyes stared off and her mind drifted, back to the quiet space she had left just moments before.

The phone rang. The noise startled her, and she jumped. Looking back at her computer, she saw pictures of stars and supernovas floating slowly across the screen. She looked at the clock on the display. Thirty-five minutes. Crap. Thirty-five minutes had passed since she’d started her letter for the umpteenth time. What was the matter with her? How could she have been sitting here for so long, staring off into space?