1
Lizzie lay in bed, eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around Joe. She could feel his heart beating.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she whispered, tears wet on her face. “I never want to leave you again.”
Joe smiled. “It doesn’t have to be this way,
(bitch)
“honey. You could come with me.”
Lizzie squeezed Joe tighter.
Why didn’t she reply? What was the matter? If she could go with him, why wouldn’t she?
Joe shifted position. “What’s wrong? You seem distracted?”
“I… I don’t know. Something feels… strange… about all this — I mean, not about you, or us
(was she lying?)
“or what we just did
(liar!)
“… just… something…”
There was something strange about him and her…what they’d just done. There was something indefinably odd about everything… but something kept her from saying anything. Kept her from saying yes, yes!
(oh, baby, yeah!)
of course I’ll go with you — wherever you want, right this second — let’s not wait a breath longer. Let’s just get up and get the hell outta Dodge while we can! Before something… something
(what? WHAT?)
happens!
“Let’s do it, again,” Joe whispered, squeezing her and kissing her forehead. Lizzie melted into the warmth and sweetness of his breath and embrace, the musky scent of his body. She wanted so desperately to feel him again inside her… but there was this growing uneasiness, this… psychic cold sweat. The first time they’d made love she’d felt that uneasiness — ignored it… denied it. She’d let him in, because she’d wanted him in.
But even while making love, something felt unaccountably dirty,
(Oh, baby, God, how I….)
and it was impossible to pinpoint.
Something around and about him felt… off…
But she’d convinced herself to ignore it, because he’d been gone… gone for so long…
And now he wanted it again — hell, who was she kidding, she wanted it again — him again. She wanted to make love with him for the rest of her life, and she didn’t know what was so
(bitch!)
wrong about that, but the instant she turned to him and he made his move—
She pushed away and rolled out of bed.
Lizzie stood naked beside the bed, confused, a hand to the wall to steady herself. Joe looked to her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Something I did?”
(BITCH!)
Lizzie turned away, ashamed. Planted her forehead against a wall, and began to cry. Joe went to her, but as soon as he touched her, she twisted free. The grimace she knew graced her face surprised even her.
“Doesn’t any of this feel wrong to you?” she asked, unable to look at him.
Joe, also naked and hands to his side, looked at her.
“No. Should it? I mean… I’m here with my wife — my wife — whom I haven’t seen in over a year—”
“But doesn’t that bother you? Why haven’t we seen each other in a year — we’re married for Heaven’s sake! Where have you been?”
“Oh, honey, you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill…”
“Am I? Will you look at us? Me? Why should I be having such a hard time with any of this? Why do I feel like something’s dreadfully wrong?”
Joe made another attempt at making another go at things, when Lizzie whirled around and again slipped from his embrace.
“No! This isn’t right… something… something about all of this
(oh, you fucking bitch!)
“just isn’t right—”
“But you did it the first time—”
“But I still felt it! I’m not doing it again! Please… don’t force me—”
Joe stared at her with a blank expression. Just looked at her. The entire experience suddenly felt flat, all of it. The guilt piled on like a one-ton
(I-beam)
weight.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to
Joe was gone.
Nothing.
The bed… gone.
The room — well, not entirely gone — she was still in a room… but it was a much different one, and she was
Strapped into a chair.
Restrained. Head to toe.
“I could give you more of that,” Black’s voice said from somewhere around her. It was like sandpaper rubbed across a burn.
Lizzie searched the room with tearstained and gritty eyes. The glare was unbearable. She couldn’t see clearly. A shadow — a man — emerged from the glare before her, dark in contrast to all the blinding brilliance.
“I could give you that all day, every day. Your Joe. All you have to do is work with me, Elizabeth. Give me what I want. It’s that simple.”
His last sentence had a creepy, casual lilt to it.
Black disappeared back into the glare.
Lizzie closed her eyes, fresh tears running down her face.
All she’d ever wanted was to live her life in peace and quiet with her husband. Now she had neither. Was at the mercy of a madman. A madman who thought she had some special powers. Even if she had, they were all gone, now, like everything else in her life. Even if she still had any, she wouldn’t use them. She’d die first.
And would that be so horrible?
Depending on how things actually panned out in the afterlife, she could at least see Joe one more time — be with him.
But wouldn’t Black be smart enough to know that?
He wouldn’t let her die… no… he’d keep her around as long as possible, torturing her like he was now… creating Joe’s images… them together… when all he was really doing was feeding upon the guilt that had already been smoldering deep within her. You didn’t have to be psychic to pick up on what he was doing. This would go on forever and a day, until she really did go crazy, and that would be punishment enough, in Black’s book, for her resistance and refusal. An insane asylum, or whatever they called them, now, for the rest of her physical existence.
But at least she would no longer have to deal with her guilt.
She’d be lost and unknown to herself… and others, like Black, would take of her until her body caught up with her mind.
She just wanted to die.
Get the remainder of this life out of the way. Start over. Was that so much to ask?
But again… Black would have none of that, would he?
And thanks to all his electrodes and technical wizardry, he was monitoring her brain, her mind, and her body.
Had anyone ever been able to will themselves to death?
Every time she’d try, Black would just adjust his equipment — her brainwave patterns — by whatever was coming out of those damned speakers against her ears. Like the hallucinations about Joe. She never realized they were hallucinations until well into them, so for a while she was always duped, trapped, except for those tiny inklings of
(Bitch)
evil she picked up in the background.
Maybe it didn’t really matter if she knew or not… because, for a little while, anyway, a little while, she was happy… when she first met with him — real or not — she was happy that there was some form of hallucination called “Joe” that felt and sounded and acted like the Joe she knew, and it felt like they really were together. How Black managed all this, who knew, but she picked up on some things before he kept resetting her brain. Perhaps he was hypnotizing her, forcing her to recall memories…
And if so, how could she go wrong?
What would be so wrong with her going with him, as he’d asked her — or her hallucination of him had asked her? Black was never going to let her go — not after all this. Why not just succumb to the dream and never wake up? Have Black have his way with her—
The weird tones again started up…
2
We have to talk, Travis mentally sent out, as he hurried back to his office. He tried to psychically encrypt his mental outreach between multiple images of various current events, work-related issues, and images of his plastic Invaders model and other boyhood memories. I hope you’re getting this.
I am, Gina responded. I see where you are and am picking up on—
This is urgent.
Understood.
The others?
In taskings.
I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this, but that Man With No Name said we had to get on it — ASAP. But, I haven’t a clue about how we’re supposed to do this.
He offered no help?
Just that we had to get her and waste no time in doing so. I’m headed there now. See it?
Travis sent an image of their objective.
Yes.
I need backup… someone to keep an eye out, help out.
I’m there. What about security?
Don’t know. I’m… I don’t know… filled with this incredible sense of urgency and can’t seem to stop to think about any of this… it’s… forcing… me there, like she might be killed at any moment.
Be careful, Trav, I’m on my way — just be careful. I’ll see what we can do.
This shoves us out into the open. Nowhere to hide.
Be careful.
Travis hurried toward building 4250, at The Center’s compound.
3
Lizzie was back in the bedroom with Joe, back beneath the sheets. Eyes closed, she still felt his warmth and fullness, even after he’d withdrawn from her. Inhaled his musky scent. She loved his smell. She reached out to him. Opened her eyes to find him staring at her.
“I love you,” he whispered, gently squeezing her hand. “And I love making love with you. Stay with me.”
“Okay,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll stay.” She squeezed his hand back.
Was that a floral scent she just picked up?
No… it was gone…
She smiled warmly, squashing that nagging little
(bitch)
voice. That niggling little voice that even now seemed to be, once more, clawing its way through her mind…
Joe smiled.
(smiles… his smile… something about a smile…)
“Good… then there’s something else I want to show you,” he said.
He hopped out of bed.
Lizzie watched as his beautiful naked body strode across the room. She wanted more of him. Much more. Forever. Joe walked out into the hall.
There it was again… that subtle floral scent…
Lizzie rose to an elbow, taking in the room.
Where were they?
If she was going to stay with him, it’d be nice to know. Where they’d made love. She lay back down, recalling Joe’s powerful, rhythmic penetration of her body and soul. It all felt so right, being here, with him, now… like the old days…
Again, that flowery smell — where and what was that?
“Honey…,” Joe said, returning, a huge
(pained?)
smile plastered across his face.
Out from behind the doorway stepped another woman.
A naked woman.
And along with her, an acrid, thick floral scent that filled the room. The smell burned Lizzie’s nose and stung the back of her throat.
“Honey… I’d like you to meet Melissa. Remember Jeff Skopchek? This is his ex-wife.”
Melissa smiled, lips slightly and seductively parted. “Hello, Lizzie,” she purred, “So nice to finally meet you.”
Before Lizzie could respond, before Lizzie could mentally switch gears from just having made love with her husband and him having told her how much he loved her — loved making love with her — before she could wrap her head around any of that, Lizzie found her husband between Melissa’s legs… pounding into her up against a wall!
Melissa held Lizzie’s gaze, her arms clutching at Lizzie’s husband’s muscular, working body. Melissa wrapped her legs around Joe’s hips — grunting, groaning, screeching. The grunting Joe made was like shards of glass being ground into Lizzie’s heart.
So this was what he looked like making love? was her surprising first thought. This was what that magnificent body of his looked like while making love with her? Only this time the “her” wasn’t her, was it, but someone else? Another “her.” A “her” whose eyes began to dull and glaze over from the sex her husband was having with her; a her who was soon to be receiving the warm, explosive seed of her husband… as she watched…
Lizzie couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t close her eyes. Couldn’t scream. All bodily control was suddenly frozen.
Melissa closed her eyes. She clutched at Joe’s hair, his shoulders, his back… her grunts becoming more and more high-pitched cries, screeches, and yelps.
Lizzie tried to yell, to leap out of bed and rip the two apart from each other — but was unable to move. She strained hard against the sheets, but was simply unable to move.
Joe’s grunts and groans grew caustic, increasingly impassioned — mixed with Melissa’s higher-pitched efforts. Lizzie tried to block them out, close her ears… but could not move her arms. Melissa was now shouting, moaning…
“Oh, baby, yeah… like that, oh, yeah…fuck me, fuck me, baby… harder, yeah, HARDER!”
Melissa looked to Lizzie. Burned her heady gaze into her.
Joe continued thrusting, a motion that at once excited and repulsed Lizzie. A motion she had just experienced not two minutes ago — between her legs.
“Oh, baby,” Joe grunted, breathless, “God… how I…love you—”
“Yeah, baby… harder, pound me, come on… yeah… yes… yes… YES!”
Large, hot tears welled out from Lizzie’s eyes, as Melissa let out a series of ever increasing wails. She couldn’t turn away, couldn’t close her eyes; she felt a rift tearing open within her, a chasm so deep and dark… and black—
Their screams reached a united crescendo, and Joe came powerfully into Melissa with deep, dark animal grunts, as he brutally slammed her, giggling and screaming in orgasm, against the wall. A picture crashed to the floor and another tilted lop-sided. Lizzie watched as Melissa’s nails dug into Joe’s back and drew blood. When they were done, each gasped for air like drowning victims.
Laughed.
She’d never drawn blood from her husband, but this bitch was doing it right now, before her eyes, and, apparently… apparently… he liked it…
Her husband never looked to her, instead tenderly touched Melissa’s face and smoothed out her hair. Gazed deeply into Melissa’s eyes. Melissa ran her hands over Joe’s short-cropped hair.
“More, baby… more… oh, God…,” Melissa begged, grabbing Joe’s head
(his head!)
in both hands and leaning her head into his.
Joe and Melissa giggled and snorted — snorted! — and Lizzie knew — knew! — they were laughing at her.
Why was he doing this? Why didn’t he stop… turn around and come back to her? What had she done to deserve this?
Joe backed up with Melissa still looped around his waist, her head now dropped to his shoulders. Lizzie noticed how her long, sweaty and messed-up hair was partially flung over Joe’s shoulder, clinging against Joe’s sweaty, flexing back. Joe gently deposited Melissa at the foot of the bed. Still crying, Lizzie watched as Joe then came around to his side of the bed — to her, now — and crawled back under the sheets beside her. Lizzie inhaled Melissa’s sickly floral perfume all over him. Melissa turned to look to them, eyes droopy and heavy. She smiled a saccharine, closed-mouth smirk and repositioned herself on her elbows and stomach…
To watch.
No! Lizzie internally screamed, Nooo!
There was no stopping him.
Joe spooned right up against Lizzie. She couldn’t fight it; was unable to even scream. Joe wrapped his arms and legs around her and whispered into her ear.
“Oh, honey, how I love you…”
Lizzie grit her teeth — willed herself to die.
And I was ready to go with him? Go with him where?
Joe forced himself atop her. Forced apart her legs.
No! Oh, please, God, no. No-no-no-NO!
Joe entered her, and as much as she fought — or thought she fought — she could do nothing. She tensed her entire body. Blood trickled out her nose.
Joe worked her callously — hard and brutal — like she was a mere receptacle for his animalistic urges, rather than…
His wife.
Someone else entered the room.
“Are you going to give me what I need? Are you now ready?”
Black. Victor Black. In a robe. Hands on his hips.
Grinning his painful grin.
He undid his robe.
4
Travis approached the entrance to 4250. He hid in the nighttime shadows as long as possible… when he came upon the young girl. She was perhaps six years old and sat on the steps of the building. She sat under the security lighting, smiling and humming to herself. When the girl saw him, she jumped to her feet.
“Come on, we haven’t much time!” she said.
“Excuse me?” Travis said.
“Hurry!”
The girl led him into the building. When he saw the security guards at the front desk, his heart stopped — but the six year old continued to lead him along, past checkpoint personnel.
“But the—”
“They don’t matter anymore. Just come with us!”
Travis looked up ahead to find a handful of other awaiting children. They’d been playing hopscotch in the hallway, singing “Ring Around the Rosie,” a hopscotch grid drawn in chalk on the floor. But they dropped their chalk and stones and immediately joined in as they approached.
“Hurry!” they all chimed in, and together all funneled past the next security checkpoint, with its surveillance cameras and biometrics.
“But how — who are you?” Travis asked.
He was shushed.
The first little girl whispered, “Magic, it’s all magic, maaan…”
Stone-faced, Black stood behind the bank of computer equipment, monitoring Lizzie’s experience. He had to kill those dreams, get rid of whomever had been tracking him all these years… preventing him from attaining his rightful place in history. And this woman was key. She could lead him to where this most persistent gnat was. Once and for all. But her brain wave activity wasn’t looking promising. She was giving up, and he had to stave that off until she told him what he needed to cut this cancer out of his life. They all broke. It was only a matter of time. No one resisted forever.
Using his computer’s mouse, Black upped the program’s intensity. Into a microphone, he said, “Oh, baby, yeah… like that, oh, yeah… fuck me, fuck me, baby… harder, yeah, HARDER…”
He recited the words as if reading a newspaper article, both his face and voice emotionless. But he knew the effect his words had on her. He could see her responses on his displays… from the video feed of her face. She was falling for it. Hook, line, and dick.
She was his.
Cory Colbert wrapped up the remote viewing session with his monitor and went out to the hallway water fountain. As he bent over to take a sip, he mentally received:
Just that we had to get her. Waste no time. I’m headed there now. Need backup… someone to keep an eye out…
He bolted upright.
Another?
The next message hit: What about security?
Cory looked up and down the hallway. Empty.
Then came the final clip: Shoves us out in the open… nowhere to hide.
Be careful…
Trav? Gina? Cory mentally asked.
We’re here, Cory. It was Gina.
Both of us, Travis added.
What do you need?
To get into here. Travis sent a visual. We don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re going for it, anyway. Travis sent along their sense of urgency.
Great. This is going to hurt — someone’s going to die.
We need someone to divert Black, Travis sent. Lizzie’s being held. That Man With No Name feels her life is in grave danger. It’s now or never.
Okay.
Anyone else out?
Not yet.. I’m outta here, Cory sent, I’ll see what I can do.
Good luck, Travis and Gina sent.
* * *
Cory entered the front doors to building 4250, and, to his amazement, found the security desk unmanned. That shouldn’t be. He paused inside the entranceway, scanning the layout and cameras.
Highly uncomfortable. No alarms, no scurrying security. Something wasn’t right—
Hurry, someone sent.
A child?
The same voice continued, He’s strong… needs distraction. In the booth. You must delay him.
Okay, this was getting really weird. There were two security personnel, but, where were they? And the cameras… they still pointed toward the entrance… toward him.
Get moving! The little girl voice urged.
If they were on and manned, then he was already meat, and he had little time nor chance… but if those consoles were also absent, then perhaps he did have a chance—
Heart racing, Cory shot forward. At the next set of doors, and without thinking, he swiped his restricted area badge through the panel’s slot, typed in his PIN, and scanned his retina. Why would his access clearance and biometrics work here? They shouldn’t, but, before he could finish the thought, the light flashed green and he was in.
Blood continued to trickle from Lizzie’s nose, as she continued to fight her physical paralysis and Joe’s rape.
She was being raped by her husband!
With Black and another watching!
Why? How was this possible? This wasn’t Joe! Not the man she knew!
Why had he had sex with that woman — who continued to watch and please herself?
Lizzie tried to scream, but nothing came out. Just blood and tears. Her mouth and throat burned from the goddamned perfume.
What had become of her husband?
The love of her life — turned evil? He toyed with her and she had no way to fight back.
She just wanted to die…
But this… this couldn’t possibly be her husband… Joe would never, ever do anything like this… he’d slit his own throat first—
Of course he wouldn’t do anything like this.
What was going on?
He bit her — he was biting her!
This couldn’t be Joe!
No — that wasn’t possible.
This wasn’t her Joe — couldn’t be!
Joe would never, ever — in a million lifetimes—
Something was wrong!
This wasn’t happening!
Lizzie renewed her efforts to free herself — to move. Will herself free. This was all a figment of her imagination — no, Black’s imagination — none of it was real.
None of it!
Joe stopped.
Lizzie held her breath. Was still unable to move.
Two sets of hands then roughly grabbed her and spun her around; repositioned her, face down on the bed.
“Oh, this is real, all right, my little princess,” Melissa whispered into Lizzie’s ear, as she repeatedly pressed her sweaty, floral-odored body into her, “and we’re going to show you just how fucking real it is…”
Melissa backed away, and Lizzie heard and felt her shifting around, behind her. She was doing something… it sounded like she was putting something on…
What was she doing? What was she doing?
Lizzie found she could finally move and pushed herself up on all fours.
“You should have given me what I wanted,” Joe hissed, but it wasn’t Joe’s voice coming from Joe. It was another, blacker, voice. A voice Lizzie could never forget.
She lifted her head.
A naked Black positioned himself before her.
Melissa positioned herself behind her.
She was going to kill him.
She was going to rip his fucking black heart out…