When Eric Campbell wakes up on a park bench with no memory of how he got there, he finds that the season is not the only thing that has changed! Committed to a mental institution shortly thereafter, he begins questioning his own sanity while at the same time adjusting to his new life as a woman.

The story I am about to relate, to put it mildly, strains credibility. Sometimes I get confused about what is true and what isn’t, which is why I need to relate my tale with considerable haste.

It was like any other day of my meaningless existence. The only thing that differentiated it from any other day was the weather, not the crowds of people, not the traffic noise, and certainly not the fact that I was-as usual-invisible most of the time.

I wasn’t always a homeless man and a fixture of the city to be pitied or ignored. It didn’t happen overnight. I once had a fiancée, a nice two bedroom house, and a modest but lush backyard. What happened, you ask? Was it drugs or alcohol or mental illness or some combination of the two? I’m sorry to disappoint, but no. One day I became indifferent and started questioning my reasons for working at a job I detested in order to buy things that I thought I needed. I decided to simplify. I downsized from a house to an apartment. Next, I went from an apartment to a hotel. And from there, after the recession hit, it was just a hop, skip, and a jump away to my new address at the intersection of apathy and everystreet.

But enough about the inconsequential details of my journey toward living out my new lifestyle choice; it pales in comparison to the journey which I was most certainly not a willing participant in.

Like I said, it was just another forgettable day. It was late winter and I was trying to scare up as many aluminum cans as I could to augment my daily ‘income’ of spare change deposited in my pity cup-as I am so fond of calling it. At the end of day, I decided to pay a visit to one of the shelters for a brief respite from the cold. I enjoyed some hot soup as my body thawed out and I watched the regular crowd shuffle in.

I remember the date exactly. When I collapsed into one of the cots and drifted off to sleep, it was February 27th 2010. After floating in the blackness for what seemed like a matter of seconds, I awoke to a feeling of disorientation accompanied by a hangover headache, something hard pressing against my back, and a cool breeze blowing across my body. I rolled over on my side and peered around into the dim light of either late evening or early morning. I wasn’t sure which. But as twilight brightened into a red orange dawn, I realized it sure as hell wasn’t winter anymore. I didn’t know exactly when at first, but I could tell it was early Fall judging by the leaves. But that was the least of my problems! The season wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

My eyes no longer mere slits, I slowly sat up with labored effort and yawned as I tried to rub the remnant sleepiness out of my eyes. I paused at the realization that something just wasn’t right. My face felt odd. I didn’t have a mirror and I didn’t need one. Like a blind man using his nimble fingers to ‘see’ someone’s face, my heart began to race as I took stock of the changes. My face was clean and smooth, smoother than after a shave with a straight razor; in fact, there was no detectable stubble at all. Also, there was no prominent brow, and my familiar and striking square jaw had been painlessly sculpted into a more rounded shape.

I removed my fingers and there was flesh colored residue on them.

“What the hell!” I shouted at the trees in the deserted park. “Am I wearing makeup?” I ran my finger across my lower lip and looked at the red pigment that was now smeared on it. “Holy shit! I am wearing makeup!”

Was this a dream? Had someone slipped me some drugs? Was I hallucinating? I stood up to an unfamiliar bouncing sensation coming from my chest and froze dead in my tracks. I unbuttoned the satin blouse I was wearing and there they were: breasts. Yes, breasts on a chest as hairless as my face. And from the looks of things, they were about the size of my ex-fiancée’s who was quite well endowed I might add. Tears began welling up at the thought of what I was probably going to discover next. I ran my hand down inside my skirt and felt around.

“Oh my holy God!”

The old plumbing was gone, replaced with something soft and flat. I couldn’t resist. I had to look with my eyes to confirm the obviousness of what my hand was telling me.

I cringed with apprehension as I lifted up the pleated skirt that I was wearing and slid down the white cotton panties. All doubt was removed. I had a vagina. Every trace of maleness was now gone. I screamed, but it wasn’t a man’s scream. It sounded like one of my old girlfriends letting out a screech after seeing a spider. At first, I thought it was someone else screaming. It couldn’t be me. It just couldn’t. That was impossible. I kept waiting to wake up from such an awful nightmare.

After crying myself out somewhat, I looked around under the brightening morning sky and it finally dawned on me: I knew this park! I was still in the city. I looked around and made a cursory inspection to see if there were any more surprises such as a purse with some makeup and tampons in it or something. There was nothing.

I limped over to the bridge that spanned a small pond, stopped about halfway across, and leaned on the railing. The reflection that the glassy surface had to offer was not as brutally truthful as the mirror of a compact, but it sufficed for the occasion.

Instead of a grizzled guy in his early forties, there was an attractive younger looking woman with shoulder length blonde hair. The characteristic hardened expression on my face that betrayed no emotion was gone; it was replaced with a look of helplessness. As I gazed at this woman, I realized I had never felt this vulnerable or scared in my life, not even during my first night on the streets. I sat down, curled up into a ball, and wept.

By the time the jogger found me, I had no tears left.

“Miss,” she said, kneeling down beside me. “Are you okay?”

Miss? Why didn’t she call me maam instead? The soft light of early morning was more forgiving than I thought.

I stared at her with a blank expression on my face, before saying quietly, “Look what they did to me? How could they do this to me?” I was so distraught that I didn’t even notice how cute she was in her skimpy jogging outfit.

She gently put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Who did this to you? Were you mugged?”

“No,” I said weakly. “It’s worse than that. I don’t even remember how it happened. I don’t know how I got here.”

“What’s your name?”

Without thought or hesitation, I said, “Eric.”

“Eric? Don’t you mean Erica? I think you’re a little confused.”

I don’t know what happened, but something snapped within me. “Eric. My name is Eric goddamn it! Not Erica or any other stupid woman’s name!” I became hysterical. “In February, I went to bed Eric, and then I woke up this morning looking like…looking like this!” Anger surged within me as I said, “If I ever get my hands on whoever did this to me, I am going to kill them. I don’t care about going to jail. I’m going to fucking kill them!”

The woman backed off as she saw the crazed look in my eyes. Despite my petite frame, even she was starting to get scared. She jogged away and I gazed at my reflection again. I barely heard the footsteps of an approaching figure a couple of minutes later.

“Excuse me Miss?” said an unfamiliar deep male voice.

I glanced over and saw a rather tall and muscular police officer.

“Please don’t call me Miss,” I said.

“Then what should I call you?”

I shook my head and began to walk away.

He crossed the bridge and confronted me. “Look. I think it would be best if you would come with me until you calm down and we get everything sorted out.”

“I’m fine now. I’ll just be on my way thank you very much.”

Before I could fully turn around, he put his arms on me. With clenched teeth, I said, “Please take your hands off me sir.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Miss. You’re coming with me, one way or the other.”

Without thinking, I shouted, “Get your fucking hands off of me before I sue you and the entire police department!” I clenched my fist and took a swing at him. I had done some boxing and figured I’d catch him by surprise.

Boy, was that a miscalculation on my part. At the last second, he ducked out of the way, and before I knew it, he was twisting my arm behind my back and slapping the handcuffs on.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been in trouble with the law, so why was I sobbing like a little girl when he escorted me to a police cruiser after calling the incident in? What was going on with my mind?

I was booked and locked up. As I was escorted past the cell with all of the men it, the first thought that popped into my head was, what the hell is this guy doing? Why are we headed toward the women’s holding cell? However, I was quickly reminded of my recent transformation by the ogling looks cast in my direction and a few choice phrases that I would really, really, like to forget.

“Damn!” I overheard one grungy and tattooed man say, “I’d like to tap that ass!”

What an asshole!

In a way, I was actually relieved to reach the women’s cell and be locked up. I was also grateful that I would only be sharing the cell with one other person.

“What are you doin’ in here honey?” she said with a big laugh. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it Grand theft auto?” She laughed so hard that she started crossing her legs so she didn’t pee herself. “Seriously though, you are way too pretty to be in here, especially with your fancy clothes and all.”

I simply rolled my eyes and continued tapping one of my pretty-and probably pricey-shoes in my corner of the cell.

“Looks like we got off on the wrong foot…Wow, you certainly are touchy this morning. You want to know what I’m in for? I’ll give you two guesses, but you’ll only need one.” She spun around in her outfit consisting of a black miniskirt, a tight top, and pair of ‘fuck me pumps’ that had definitely seen some mileage. “Yeah, you guessed it.” She sighed before she observed, “Well, that’s what I get for trying to expand my client list.”

I forced a smile before returning to sulking in my corner of the cell. She seemed nice enough, although her taking it on the chin was kind of annoying.

A few moments later I quietly said, “Nothing.”

“How’s that?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“Earlier, you asked why I’m in here and I’m telling you. I didn’t do anything. Some stupid cop put his hands on me without permission and I tried to hit him.”

“Hmmm. That doesn’t exactly qualify as nothin.’”

“He had no right!” I protested, crossing my arms. “Especially after what I’ve been through.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not important. You wouldn’t believe me anyway if I told you. My story strains credibility as they say.”

She didn’t press the matter any further and we respected each other’s space during the remainder of my visit. The time passed slowly. Finally, an officer returned and escorted me out of the cell toward an office. I walked in and immediately knew what was going on. It was a psychologist. Did they honestly think I was going to spill my guts to some shrink?

“Please sit down,” said the middle aged man.

Like Seven of Nine, I simply complied. He reviewed some paperwork in his folder while I sat with my arms crossed. By this time, the shock had thoroughly worn off, and I had managed to salvage my stone hard look of indifference. I wasn’t going to tell this guy squat.

After a short time, he looked up and said, “Please tell me more about the incident in the park this morning.”

“There’s not much to tell I’m afraid. It was all a big misunderstanding. I freaked out a little.”

“You scared the hell out of a jogger who told the officer a very unusual story. Please be truthful with me. It will make things a lot easier on you.”

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened with the officer in the park, but can’t you just let me go? I mean look at me. I’m not crazy. I am in full possession of my faculties.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Let’s go ahead and start with some simple questions, like today’s date.”

I experienced an “oh shit” moment as I realized I had never thought to ask the jogger in the park about the date. Hell, I didn’t even think to ask my cell mate.

“Uh…uh…” I stammered. The city had a Saturday feel to it, so I said, “It’s Saturday.” There was a questioning tone to my answer.

“Yes, I know its Saturday, but I asked you the date. What is the date?”

“Well, it’s so easy to lose track, what with me being so busy and all,” I said with a nervous laugh, trying not to sound too much like a smart-ass. I knew I was screwed regardless, so I took a wild stab at it. “September 30th?”

“And what year is it?”

What the fuck kind of question was that? Of course I was sure of the year.

“It’s 2010,” I confidently declared.

I had no way to know if I was in the ballpark. His face didn’t betray any hint of whether I was right or not.

“Please tell me your name.”

“It’s…it’s Erica Campbell.”

“I see,” he said. He took off his reading glasses and said, “I want you to take a look at this. We found it in your jacket pocket some distance behind the bench.” He slid a laminated card across the table.

I couldn’t believe it. There she-I mean I-was. It was the woman I first saw reflected in the pond. The driver’s license looked real. The intricacy and attention to detail of this conspiracy blew my mind.

“Karen Shaw?” I uttered softly. I furrowed my brow as I gazed at the shiny license.

“Yes Miss Shaw. And by the way, the year is 2011, not 2010. In addition to your driver’s license, you have a social security card, tax records, medical history records, school records, and a very nice apartment I must say.”

I crossed my arms and insisted, “I don’t believe it. This isn’t real. I’m telling you that I’m not this Miss Shaw that you see on this driver’s license…which is probably forged by the way. I’m telling you that I am…”

“Eric Campbell? You mean to tell me that you magically transformed into a woman and have no memory of the past year and a half or so? How do you explain that Miss Shaw?”

“Don’t call me Miss Shaw. That’s not my name,” I said, growing increasingly agitated at having my sanity questioned.

“I am very sorry, but it looks like I have no choice but to recommend psychiatric care for the foreseeable future. It’s for the best. You’ll see.”

He got up to leave and I began pleading with him. “Please! Please just give me a chance to prove that I’m right! I can tell you my social security number, where I grew up, who my parents are, and what schools I went to. I can prove it, I swear!” I got up and confronted him. “Just administer a DNA test or a chromosome test. That’ll prove I’m telling you the truth.”

He shook his head and gave me an empathetic look that seemed to imply “what kind of terrible trauma did that poor woman suffer that has made her so delusional?”

The holding cell was definitely preferable to my “stay” at the psychiatric hospital. It wasn’t the facility per se; it was well maintained and the grounds were pleasing to look at. What bothered me were the little indignities. For example, shortly after checking in, they thoroughly searched my person-and I mean thoroughly-for any sharp objects or other contraband I might have smuggled in. A female staff member did the search, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating having unfamiliar hands touch my unfamiliar body. If I had been wearing tennies, they would have probably confiscated the laces.

Next came my intake appointment with Dr. Harold Farley, one of the staff doctors. I swear, it was like the scene in the movie Good Will Hunting when Will meet’s with Robin Williams' character for the first time. I looked at all of his diplomas on the wall and scoffed as I sat there in the soft leather chair with my arms crossed.

He flipped through some of the paperwork that the police had faxed over no doubt. He was apparently taking stock of what kind of messed up I was and how messed up I was. Judging by the raising of one of his eyebrows, it seemed this place would become my new permanent address.

“Miss Shaw,” he said, “I want you to reiterate your version of events that took place this morning.”

“Why? Isn’t everything you need to know in the shrink’s report from the police station?”

“Please, just indulge me. I would like to hear it from you. Okay?”

“This is pointless,” I said, readjusting my position in the chair and sitting there defiantly in a most un-ladylike manner. “Look,” I said, “It’s all a misunderstanding. I was just disoriented. Who knows, maybe I was coming down after some bad trip or something. Stranger things have happened. Like I told the police, I am now in full possession of my faculties. I’m not a danger to myself or anyone for that matter. Just let me go home.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “I believe the police officer you tried to slug would beg to differ…And where would you go Miss Shaw? You don’t even know your address.”

I really hated this guy at moment, not just because he was one of the gatekeepers of the hospital, but because he had already made his decision and was acting like if I told him my version his professional opinion would somehow be swayed and he would let me go.

“Let me ask you a question Miss Shaw.” I think he saw me grit my teeth when he addressed me as Miss Shaw. “Which is more likely, that you were given a sex change that you have no memory of and assigned a new identity by some person or persons that wish to have you present yourself to the world as a female, or that you have been female all your life and you simply invented this person named Eric Campbell because of some terrible trauma that you suffered which your unconscious is blocking from coming to the surface?”

“Gee, do you always ask such loaded rhetorical questions, or are you making it a priority to piss me off this morning?”

Instead of indulging me, he indifferently scribbled some notes down on his yellow pad.

“Well,” I began with an indignant tone, “tell me one thing doctor: explain why I have no memory, and I mean absolutely no memory of my life as a woman?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out over the course of your treatment Miss Shaw.” He nodded for one of the orderlies to come in. “Please escort Miss Shaw to her room.”

“Yes sir,” said the orderly. “Please come with me Miss Shaw.”

Being addressed as Karen Shaw was definitely going to take some getting used to. I sighed as I realized I would have plenty of time to adapt.

I took stock of my new meager accommodations after the orderlies escorted me down the hall. Then, I got washed up before lunch. I slid my clothes off and took my first good look at my new self before hopping in the shower. I laughed as I realized I would definitely be MILF material if I was married. At that moment I prayed I wouldn’t have a surprise visitor in the form of an overjoyed boyfriend who wanted to express his relief by kissing my full lips.

In the shower, as I soaped up my breasts and ran my hands over my curvaceous body, I lusted for this woman’s body I inhabited. I resisted the urge to let my hand wander south and do some more exploring if you know what I mean. Showering was both an uncomfortable yet arousing experience of self discovery.

Before lunch, I had to go to the medication desk near the common area to take the meds my doctor had prescribed.

“I don’t need meds,” I said adamantly. “Just give me good old fashioned talk therapy and three hots and a cot and I’ll be outta’ here in no time.”

The nurse simply smiled a smile that seemed to say “looks like we got ourselves another stubborn one on our hands, but she’ll learn soon enough.”

She handed me the ketchup sized paper cup with two pills and a small cup of water. “Please swallow your pills Miss Shaw or we will have to ensure that you take them. It’s important that you take your pills.”

She glanced over at an orderly who probably augmented his income by being a bad-assed bouncer at some club I had zero chance of getting into; then, she looked back at me. I may be stubborn, but I wasn’t stupid. I respected the not so subtle threat and downed my pills. Then, the nurse pulled out a tongue depressor and checked to make sure.

“You see,” she said, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

She seemed to be getting off on her little power trip, and I cursed under my breath as I walked away.

“Fucking bitch!”

Being told what to do and when to do it was about as foreign to me as having sex with a guy. After living in complete freedom on the streets for so long, it was difficult to adapt. For the first couple of weeks, I stubbornly fought the nurses when it was medication time. I usually acted like a statue during my therapy sessions, and I constantly held my ground, even when it came to petty privileges such as what television show we were going to watch. I had to give myself the illusion of some measure of control to maintain what little pride I had left.

I had been in the hospital for about three weeks and was pretty much used to the routine. Up until now, I had never questioned my version of events, of what I knew to be true in my heart. Boy, was I in for a very rude awakening!

One evening, I was showering at my designated time. By this time, I was getting used to my new curvy and voluptuous body and didn’t think there was anything left that could surprise or faze me.

I bent down to clean my calves and feet and was surprised to see a stream of light red liquid running down my leg. I looked to see where it was coming from. I let out a yelp. The last thing I remembered before passing out was a ringing in my ears accompanied by blurred vision. I had always been squeamish at the sight of blood.

“Karen? Karen? Can you hear me dear?”

I opened my eyes. Initially, everything was out of focus, but as the acuity of my vision improved, I realized I was in the infirmary.

“Do you remember what happened Karen?”

I was too preoccupied with my throbbing head to give a quick response and simply groaned.

“We found you passed out in the shower after you screamed. I think you screamed so loud that the entire floor heard you. There was some blood. At first we thought it was from the fall but then we saw it was…Anyway, aside from the bruise on your head, you’re lucky you weren’t seriously injured.”

I replayed the incident in my mind’s eye. My stomach turned just thinking about it.

“It was…” I hesitated. I was embarrassed to say it out loud. “I got my period, didn’t I?” I felt myself blush at using the words “my” and “period” in the same sentence.

“It was just your period. Nothing to worry about.”

I sat up and pulled the white robe I was wearing closer to my body.

“Since you’re no worse for the wear, you can go ahead and head back to your room. And here, don’t forget these.”

She handed me some tampons and maxi-pads and gave me this curious look when she did. I’m not sure, but I think I turned beat red. I dumped them in the pocket of my robe and hurried back to my room. I wanted to ask some questions about how to use them, but I felt the sudden urge to just get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

As I lay there after lights out, I thought to myself, what if the doctor was right? What if my memories of life as a man were some kind of delusion? What if I had some kind of split personality disorder? What if I am crazy? I mean, I got my period for Christ’s sake! I must be a woman. Maybe I’ve always been one.

I cried myself to sleep.

“So, now do you believe me about the results of the genetic testing Karen?” asked my psychologist.

I squirmed in my padded chair before I confessed, “Yes. Why would you lie about it anyway? Like I said, I got my period, so I must be a woman.”

“Good. Do you now acknowledge that the memories you have of being a man may in fact be false?”

“It’s possible. But what would cause such delusions in the first place?”

“Probably a traumatic experience of some kind. You still have yet to recall what happened during the thirty-nine days you went missing before you were found on the park bench.”

“What about memories from a past life? Is it possible that this is what it is?”

“I’m afraid that’s not my area of expertise.” He looked at his watch and said, “Looks like our time is up for today. I’ll see again next week.” He smiled and said, “You’ve taken an important first step today. I’m proud of you.” He patted me on my shoulder.

Before I had time to take offense to the perceived condescending gesture, a thought occurred to me: this was the first time that I didn’t count the seconds until the session was over with. He said I was making progress. Maybe I would soon be getting the hell out of here!

After my morning appointment, I headed down the hall to the common area to vegetate in front of the television for a while with some of the other lethargic patients. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a male orderly stealing a glance at me. He had this stupid grin on his face. Then I realized why. I was still sitting like a guy, but I was wearing a skirt! I crossed my legs and frowned in disgust at the thought of some guy fantasizing about having sex with me. A normal woman’s level of disgust was nothing compared to mine at the moment. I had intimate knowledge of male fantasies which made my discomfort a thousand times worse.

I watched television with the other drugged patients whose disorders ran the gamut from schizophrenia to dissociative personality disorder and from depression to obsessive compulsive disorder. Making such downward mental health comparisons made me feel like the sanest person on the planet.

I forgot myself for a moment as I was apt to do and found myself staring at a plain yet pretty young woman in her late twenties. Her name was Alice, and the poor thing apparently had one of the severest cases of medication resistant depression I’ve ever seen. She always wore long sleeves because she felt self-conscious about the scars on her wrists.

I looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. She averted her gaze and squirmed in her chair.

Great! Now she probably thinks I’m a lesbian.

“Its medication time!” said a nurse from behind the couch.

I rushed up to the desk and queued up to get my least favorite part of the day over with.

“Here you are Karen.”

I looked at the pale pink pills in the small paper cup. I pretended to swallow them in the hopes that maybe they would forget to check today. As I walked away, a smile began forming on my face. I thought I was home free!

“Karen!” commanded one of the nurses.

I felt like a child caught red handed with a cookie. I immediately turned around. I was so used to being called such a pretty name that it didn’t even seem to bother me anymore, which bothered me.

I slinked toward her and grabbed the small cup of water from her outstretched hand and downed it like a shot.

“Please open your mouth.” She pulled out a tongue depressor and did a cursory inspection. “Good. Thank you.”

“Can’t they make pills that are less bitter tasting?” I complained, smacking my lips together.

“Well,” said the nurse, “Maybe if you didn’t hide them under your tongue for so long, and instead swallowed them right away like a good girl, that wouldn’t happen.”

I turned around and fumed. I mocked the nurse as I muttered, “If I swallowed them right away like a good girl!”

I stalked off and thought to myself about how I had been a model patient of late-for the most part anyway.

“What is she talking about?” I continued to say under my breath. “I’ve been a good girl. What more do they want out of me?” I froze in my tracks as I realized what had just casually slipped out. Did I just call myself a ‘good girl?’ I mentally slapped myself.

After the bitterness of the medication dissolved away, I looked around to see what mindless activity I was going to engage in to pass the time until lunch. I noticed that Alice was, as usual, alone in a corner. Instead of vacantly staring out of a window, she had summoned enough motivation to begin working on a one-thousand piece puzzle. I guess that’s progress for you. She was idly sifting through the box for some more border pieces when my shadow blocked some of the light sifting through the wire mesh of the windows.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I asked.

She didn’t acknowledge me. I took that as a yes and I sat down across from her and pretended to study the picture of the coastal Mediterranean village on the box. I joined in and tried to make some small talk.

“I hate being forced to take pills," I said. "I don’t like not having a say in my treatment. And I hate the side effects. First, there’s the dry mouth. Second, there’s the feeling of numbness. It’s hard to describe. It’s as if everything is just washing over me, like life is just a steady breeze. Sometimes it’s hard to remember the way things were before.”

“You’re lucky,” she said, almost in a whisper. “This is all I know now. I can’t remember what things were like before. Maybe I’ve always been this way.”

“Maybe things will get better for you.”

“Let me tell you something I’ve learned over the years: hope is an illusion. There is no logical basis for hope. It’s a life raft in one-hundred foot seas. Hope isn’t found in a pill or any combination of pills for that matter. It’s something that you either have or you don’t have. And that’s why I’m not going to get better. My parents can send me to as many places like this as they want, but in the end I will end up killing myself. There is nothing that can change that. All I’m doing now is biding my time and delaying the inevitable. That’s all life is. It’s a pretty diversion so that we stick around and make babies and delay the inevitable. I’ll die. You’ll die. Everyone in this hospital will die. Everyone on this planet will die. And then the sun will die and scorch the Earth into a molten ball, as if nothing had ever lived on its surface.”

“Whoa, that’s messed up.” It wasn’t just the words that disturbed me, it was the way she delivered her speech with such a cold monotone, as if from the mouth of the grim reaper himself.

With quiet intensity in her eyes, she said, “No. I’ll tell you what’s messed up: death comforts me unlike anything I have ever known. I can always hear its siren call.”

She cradled her head in her hand and the cuff of her long sleeved shirt slid down ever so slightly, exposing a couple of prominent raised scars. I couldn’t help but steal an impolite glance.

She glared at me. “Is this what you came to see?” she said with acid dripping from her voice.

“No…I just came over to…”

“Don’t lie to me. Yes you did. Yes you did! You wanted to get a close up look at the little pathetic depressed girl’s scars.” She jumped out of her chair and pushed the table to the side with a strength I didn’t know she possessed. She thrust her forearms in close to my body and yelled, “Make sure you get a really good look. Look at them you fucking dyke. Don’t think I didn’t notice you lusting after me earlier.”

I was paralyzed with fear. Thankfully, by this time, an orderly had rushed over and restrained her before she could do God knows only what to me. The orderly motioned for another man to give him a hand. They dragged her down the hall kicking and screaming.

“Why can’t you just let me die? I want to fucking die!”

The sound of her sobbing echoed down the hall. Now I knew why she was always by herself. When the sight and sound of her faded away, the other patients resumed what they were doing as if this was just another typical day, but I couldn’t. I experienced a wave of empathy that I never thought myself deep enough to feel. I suddenly felt some of the hopelessness she felt. I had never felt this hopeless before, not even at my lowest point after losing my job and being kicked out of my humble motel room.

I glided to the bathroom and cried. I had definitely lost my appetite for lunch.

A week later, and it was time for another visit to my psychologist. At first, when I entered the office, I thought I had gone into the wrong room. There was a woman in a dark blue suit with her hair arranged neatly in a bun. I distinctly remember looking at her beautiful earrings and admiring the color of nail polish she was wearing.

She looked up from perusing my chart and said, “Oh, hi Karen. Please sit down. Dr. Farley had a family emergency. I’ll be filling in for him for the time being.” She leaned forward in her chair and said, “Dr. Farley says you seem to be making progress and are adapting to your new surroundings and routine quite well.”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

“Tell me more about your state of mind this past week and any concerns you may have.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, the delusions, as you call them, about living another life, seem like some kind of a dream that I’m waking up from. That’s the best way I can put it at the moment. Sometimes I’m convinced they are a delusion, and sometimes I’m not.” That part at least, was truthful. I wanted to get out of that hospital as quickly as possible, and I knew the only way to do that was to be as cooperative as possible. I needed to be a good girl. But then again, I was careful not to tell them what they wanted to hear. I needed to walk a fine line.

The session ended and I felt one step closer to freedom. As I walked back down the hall to the common room, I thought about the apartment that was waiting for me on the outside. The psychologist back at the police station had said it was nice, and the thought of a warm place to sleep sustained me and kept me in good spirits.

Three quarters of the way down the hall, I realized I was gliding down the hall and not trudging down it like I did when I first arrived. My arms swung out away from my body more freely and I was aware I was walking more with my hips. I was surprised at how such a simple act could be so liberating.

I entered the common room and my heart dropped in my chest at the sight of Alice. I don’t know what scared me more: her mere presence, or the fact that she was smiling. I thought, who is this girl and what did they do with Alice?

She was working on her puzzle, and I tried to sneak into the room. She acknowledged me briefly before averting her guilty eyes. The rest of the day continued to be awkward and we kept our distance from one another.

Shortly before lights out, as I was nearing my room, I heard the shuffling of slippers behind me. I turned around and there she was, violating our personal cooling off space.

I faced her with my arms crossed while she studied something on the floor.

“Uh…Look,” she said meekly. “About last week…I’m really sorry about what happened…about what I said. I’m really sorry I called you…”

I cut her off before she could say that horrible word.

“It’s okay. I understand. You weren’t yourself. No harm done. Good night.”

What came next really surprised me. She gave me a hug and then stood on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the cheek which felt good, but really wrong as well.

“What did you do that for?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It just seemed like you needed it…Good night.”

As I lay awake in bed thinking about the kiss, I smiled. I am not going to lie to you. I felt aroused. I had felt aroused before, but I had never done anything about it. I had started touching myself once, but I felt like a pervert and was ashamed of giving into such base desires.

Now I didn’t care. I decided to give in. I slid my hand down underneath my panties and started massaging. I thought about Alice and that kiss. To my surprise, other images began creeping into my mind. Recently, I had become hooked on the show Smallville, and the muscular actor that plays Clark Kent popped into my head without warning. I didn’t care. I was in the throes of passion. I thought about him laying me down and caressing my body and making love to me. I pretended I was Lana. I climaxed and then climaxed again. Multiple orgasms. That was certainly a first for me.

When I came back down from my high, I felt a little ashamed at not having the self control to prevent the intrusion of such a fantasy. Had I always had such urges and simply buried them deep in my subconscious? I fell asleep very confused about my sexuality.

It was now late October, and the rapport that had naturally developed between Alice and I was growing into friendship. After breakfast, we returned to working on the puzzle once more.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever been to a place like this?” she inquired.

“Yes, my first and hopefully last time. What about you?”

“Too many. I’ve been in and out since I was thirteen.”

“I’m sorry,” I said almost in a whisper, bowing my head ever so slightly.

“Thank you.” She looked thoughtful for a few moments before continuing. “I’ve always wondered why people say they’re sorry. There’s nothing really to be sorry about. It just is what it is. It’s life.”

I looked around at all of the other patients and understood that life was a definition open to considerable interpretation.

“You know,” I said, “I’ve noticed a change in you lately Alice, for the better of course.”

“The doctors have got me on some different meds, so maybe that’s why. Speaking of meds, if you ask me, the way they prescribe them is pretty unscientific. When it comes to doctors, it’s all about trial and error. I’ve read up on some of these meds. Did you know that the doctors aren’t sure exactly how they work? They say they think they know how they work, but they really don’t.”

“Really? That certainly doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.”

“You got that right,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She snapped another puzzle piece into place.

I fitted another piece in place myself before saying, “If you don’t mind me asking, how many different kinds of meds have you been on? I’m just curious.”

“Let’s see,” she said, taking a break from the puzzle and stretching her neck. “Over the years, I’ve been on Zoloft, Paxil, Neurontin, Effexor, Wellbutrin… I’m probably forgetting a couple others. Oh, they even put me on Depakote at one point. Get this: it’s primarily used to prevent seizures! Right now, I’m on Remeron.”

“Remeron?”

“I think the Doc wanted to kill two birds with one stone. It helps me sleep, which is nice.”

“Sounds like you could be a psychiatrist considering all of the meds you’ve been on.”

“I couldn’t do any worse,” she said with a half smile. The smile ran away from her face as she leaned in toward me. “Let me share some wisdom with you: stay away from the SSRIs if you can.”

“SSRIs?”

“Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“I was on this SSRI called Paxil. Let me show you what it did for me.” She showed me the scars on her wrists and I winced as it triggered a memory of our first conversation together.

“I’m so sorry,” I said automatically. Remembering her feelings about using the word sorry, I said, “Sorry for saying sorry!”
“Anyway,” she continued, “I suppose because of me and others like me, they finally issued a warning that SSRIs may increase the risk of suicide.” She laughed in disgust.

“Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose? That’s like purchasing a sleeping pill with the disclaimer ‘may cause insomnia,’ or using a hemorrhoid cream that states, ‘may cause a burning sensation!’”

She let out a hearty laugh before saying, “It’s so absurd that it should be funny.” She forced the corners of her mouth to rise up.

I confided, “I wish there was a medication I could take to get my memory back. Alas, there is not. But they’ve got me on the next best thing: an anti-psychotic. Imagine that, you try to hit one police officer and they label you as psychotic.”

“You’re funny,” said Alice.

I was pleased to see her enjoy a good laugh for a change. She looked at me with the softest expression on her face and rested her head in her hand and sighed. Then, she got up and walked over to the window and bathed herself in a shaft of sunlight.

She said, “Either it’s a placebo effect, or it’s working. I’m not sure…It’s strange. The colors seem brighter and sounds seem crisper. It feels like a fog is lifting.” She closed her eyes and soaked up the warmth.

I was truly happy to see her making progress. However, I was depressed because while her fog was lifting, mine was lingering. I had a ways to go before I made my way out of it. I decided to join her at the window, and admired the beautiful reds and yellows that still dotted the trees of the October landscape.

After lunch, Alice, myself, and most of the other sufficiently medicated patients were allowed outside to stroll around the grounds under careful supervision. The juxtaposition of the waning fall foliage and the still summer-like lush grass triggered a memory from childhood of me diving into a pile of leaves and frolicking around.

Noticing the reminiscent glow my face had taken on, Alice said, “A quarter for your thoughts.”

“A quarter? I thought it was supposed to be a penny.”

“You forgot about inflation!” She giggled like a schoolgirl and I joined in.

After my laughter subsided, I said, “I was just thinking about when I was a kid and how I’d play in the piles of leaves.” It felt like a legit memory, but I couldn’t be sure if it was Karen’s or not.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that now,” she said. “They might think you’re crazy and lock you up!” She twirled her finger around her ear.

“You’re just too funny!” I said.

As we were ushered back inside after a healthy dose of fresh air, a crow flew overhead. When it passed by, the minor key of its harsh call alerted me to the relentless march of time; to the rapid approach of winter. A chilly wind kicked up and I pulled my jacket closer to my body. I felt a wave of sadness at the thought of Mother Nature repainting the bright canvass before me with bleak grays and browns.

“Earth to Karen!” said one of the nurses. “It’s time to come inside. It’s getting late!”

Looking around, I noticed I was the last patient. I loitered by the door for a few more seconds before silently walking in.

“Looks like we’re settling in for some cold weather,” commented the nurse to one of the orderlies.

“I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

“It’s all futile,” observed Alice as she stared at the fading pale orange sky after our nice walk.

That damn somber tone of voice that had lay dormant for quite some time was somehow managing to reassert itself, trying to sabotage her mind once more.

Oh boy! Here we go again!

I was working on the word jumble when Alice turned her head toward me. Any remnants of her earlier good cheer had drained away. The emotionless creature I saw before me scared the hell out of me and made my heart sink. But, I knew her well enough to just let her be.

“It’s all futile and I’ll tell you why it’s futile,” she continued. “Because Mother Nature always wins. Always! The leaves fall and we rake them up just so more can fall. We mow the grass just so we can let it grow again. Workers repave crumbling roads just so opportunistic weeds can have another go at crumbling them. It’s pointless. And look at us. We take medication just to find out that it doesn’t work. And do you know what’s really sad Karen? You may get your memory back, but you’ll probably grow old and get dementia and forget everything all over again.”

“Alice!” I snapped. “Don’t say such things!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She held up her hands in mock apology. “I’m sorry…sorry…sorry…sorry! Now doesn’t that just make everything all better?”

She sat back down and studied the puzzle as if it were some major construction project that would take years to complete. She rested her head on the table. That’s pretty much how she spent the rest of the evening. I distracted myself by watching jeopardy. I glanced over at her a few times and prayed that my friend would return the next day.

That night, I didn’t have as much trouble falling asleep as usual. Maybe it was the fresh air. Falling asleep wasn’t the problem. However, staying asleep was a different matter.

I woke up early in the morning, soaked with sweat and screaming.

“Help me!” I yelled into the pitch black. I was terrified and angry and disoriented, but I was more terrified than anything else.

By the time a nurse and an orderly rushed in, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Karen, what happened?” asked the nurse.

In between gulps of air, I said, “Someone was holding me down against my will, like they wanted to smother me or something!”

“Who?”

“I…I don’t know. I couldn’t see their face. I told them to stop but they wouldn’t listen.” I looked at her with pleading eyes and said, “They wouldn’t listen.”

The nurse sat down next to me and motioned with her hand for the orderly to remain outside my door. Like a mother comforting her child, she assured me, “It’s okay Karen. It’s okay hon, you’re safe now. It was just a dream.”

In my gut, I knew it was more than a dream. Maybe this was the traumatic experience my subconscious was protecting me from! Now that her soothing voice had brought my crying under control, I asked, “What time is it?”

“It’s a quarter past five.”

I wiped some tears away and asked, “I was wondering, do you think maybe it would be possible to hang out in the common area for a while?”

“I tell you what, you can pull up a chair and hang out near the nurse’s station if you want.”

I nodded my head. I needed to be surrounded by other people. I needed the illusion of safety at the moment. We walked down the hall together, with the terrifying immediacy of the dream fading with each step.

We reached the nurse’s station and I pulled up a chair and flipped through and old People magazine from March, the Oscar issue.
I perused the best and worst dressed section. I gazed at all of the beautiful women resplendent in their ridiculously expensive gowns made by fashion designers I had never heard of, some of whose names I had trouble pronouncing.

It wasn’t just their dresses I was admiring, but the accessories as well. I loved the dangly earrings and the shoes. I found myself very suddenly-and naturally it felt-longing for nicer shoes to wear. I really saw the appeal. I was like, "that’s a cute pair" or "ooh, those are pretty!"

Looking at the best dressed section wasn’t as fun as it turned out as looking at the worst dressed portion. I found myself stifling my laughter on more than one occasion. I certainly didn’t want to get a case of the giggles and get intimately familiar with the padded room! At the sight of one unusual dress-one that looked like Bjork and Lady Gaga had gotten together to design-I thought to myself how I wouldn’t be caught dead in such a get up.

Yes, I was discovering the idle joys of fashion. I looked at my plain robe and plain white slippers and was glad there wasn’t a mirror nearby so I could wince at my equally plain reflection.

Oh how the time flies when one is worshiping at the altar of celebrity-America’s version of royalty. Before I knew it, sunrise had come and gone and my dream had completely faded away with the twilight.

The patients filed into the common area, but Alice was not among them.

While I waited for her, I passed the time by observing some of the antics of the other patients. Charles, as usual, was scribbling in his journal. This guy was OCD to the extreme. It was so sad and pathetic. He would fill a page, and then an expression of disgust would suffuse across his face as he read through the lines of fresh ink. Then, he would grab a red ink pen and viciously mark everything out with it. He finished by ripping out the blooded page and throwing it away. He used to be a writer, but now he was striving for a perfection he couldn’t define.

I looked over at the card table and shook my head at the sight of one of the patients who seemed to take a perverse pleasure in adding a little chaos to order. He was apt to remove a piece of the puzzle from here or there when he thought the coast was clear.

“Ethan!” chided one of the orderlies who had been shooting the shit with a smaller yet scrappier employee. “How many times have I told you not to mess with other people’s work?”

He laughed gleefully, relishing in the attention as usual. He held his hands up in the air. “Sorry officer. I didn’t think benign interference with communal property was a crime!”

The orderly rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’ve got better things to do than babysit this guy.”

The orderly seemed very protective of Alice and her project as of late. I think he was sweet on her.

Just then, Alice came belatedly strolling in, yawning as if the Doctor had doubled her dosage of her sleeping pill.

“Well, well,” said the orderly. “Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence. Good morning sunshine!”

Alice flashed him a fake smile that said, “if this were any other place, I’d give you the middle finger right about now.”

Alice’s expression softened as she walked over to me. I was just lounging on the couch as usual, feeling ambivalent about another predictable day at the resort. Well, not entirely predictable. I wasn’t sure which Alice was going to greet me.

“Good morning Karen!” she said.

“Good morning Alice! You seem downright chipper this morning.”

“Right side of the bed this morning, I guess.”

“Indeed.”

“Sorry about yesterday evening,” she said. “I guess I let myself get a little down again.”

“Sorry? Sorry? Why do people always feel the need to say they’re sorry?” I joked. I flashed her a toothy grin.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” she said sheepishly.

While we were talking, and the orderly was stealing a glance at Alice’s butt, Ethan sneaked back over to the table. Alice saw him out of the corner of her eye, and with daggers in her eyes, shot him a withering glare. Ethan saw the look in her eyes, fidgeted with his clothes for a couple of seconds, and then wisely retreated to his usual corner.

I glanced over at the table and remarked, “At this rate, we’ll have that thing finished just before the apocalypse in 2012!”

“I swear to God, if I’m still here in December of 2012, I’m going to have to…” Her voice trailed off and the smile ran away from her face as she realized what she was about to say.

I cleared my throat before asking, “Are you going to get something to eat?”

“I’m not very hungry this morning. I think I’ll pass on the scrambled egg product… Hey, watcha got there?” She was pointing to the magazine I had forgotten I had placed on my lap.

“It’s just an old magazine,” I said dismissively. “Anything to pass the time, right?” I let out a nervous laugh.

I placed it on the table. Then, she sat down and picked it up and leafed through it before quickly tossing it back on the table.

She rolled her eyes and said, “It’s all trash. Just a bunch of overpaid actors and singers.”

While I agreed that they were overpaid, when she used the word trash, it stung me. After all, what’s wrong with admiring some actresses and fantasizing about being one of them? Did she somehow think she was better than other women because she sought out more intellectually stimulating literature? I let out a sigh and decided to just let it slide.

She looked around and took an inventory of the patients while I chewed over her words in my mind.

“I think we’ve got about every DSM IV diagnosis accounted for in this room,” she said. She looked back at the magazine and with a wry smile added, “Everything except for narcissistic personality disorder.” She frowned as she looked around again. “There but for the grace of God go I.” She sat down across from me and confided, “My mother used to say that often before I got sick. When we’d either pass by or see someone less fortunate depicted on television, she’d remind me how lucky we were; of how lucky I was. And I did feel fortunate. Sometimes I find myself wondering what I did wrong to lose favor with God.”

I suddenly realized I needed to think of the right thing to say to nip this possible downward spiral in the bud.

“If you want my advice, try to wait until after lunch to ask such questions. It’s too early.” Actually, I felt there was probably never a good time of the day, week, or month for Alice to ask such questions. She couldn’t seem to wax philosophical without becoming suicidal.

I was oddly relieved when the nurse called out that it was medication time. Maybe her meds would help bring out and sustain the Alice I saw the other day during our stroll. I groaned as I shuffled over to get in line. It was time to be a good girl again.

“Karen,” said Dr. Farley. “I must tell you that I was understandably disturbed when one of the nurses informed me of the episode you experienced the other morning.”

“It was terrible! It was one of the worst nightmares I can remember having in a long time. But, it was just a dream,” I lied. “Do you think perhaps it was a side effect of the medication?”

“The medication has, on occasion, been known to cause bizarre dreams, but I don’t recall ever reading in the literature about night terrors being a side effect. However, it is a relatively new drug and everyone is different. For now, I’d like you to stay on it at the current dosage. I’d also like to give you something to help you stay asleep. You shouldn’t have any trouble with the new medication I've prescribed. It’s well tolerated.”
“Thank you,” I said.

“Looks like we have a little extra time,” he observed. “If you don’t have anything more to add, you can go ahead and head on back if you like.”

I started to get up, but that fleeting memory during the stroll on the hospital grounds surfaced. “Oh, there is one thing. It’s kind of insignificant but I thought you might like to hear about it.”

“What is it?”

“I had this really vivid memory of when I was little…when I was a little girl. I was playing in the leaves and I remember being very happy.”

Okay, I bent the truth a little. So sue me!

“That’s wonderful news! You see, I told you it was just a matter of time before things would begin resurfacing.”

“You were right! For a while, I was scared that it would never come back.”

“Just continue to be patient and take your meds and you’ll continue to have more moments like these. I must say, I’m very pleased with your progress.”

“Thank you doctor Farley.” I got up to leave.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, “you look very nice today Karen. It’s good to see you taking more of an interest in your appearance. Have a good afternoon and I’ll see you in another week.”

Nice? Did he just say I looked nice? Nice is a term that should be used by weatherman when describing an ideal day for a picnic. I thought I looked better than nice. I had actually brushed my hair-thoroughly. It was silky and shiny and I was wearing some lipstick. I thought I looked pretty but I guess he had to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to say something that could be misconstrued as inappropriate.

The months passed, and little by little, I was beginning to see the light at the end of my own tunnel. With the help of the medication, I was slowly burying some of my false memories, and in so doing, I was beginning to convince myself of my true identity along the way.

Over the fall and winter, Alice and I became more intimate. We became more than friends, and I came to love her more like a sister and so did she. I was so happy that she was getting better. Her depression was now being treated with a combination of drugs and trans-cranial magnetic stimulation, or TMS for short. It seemed that the painful and demoralizing trial and error portion that characterized her long struggle toward the light had finally come to an end.

Spring arrived and she was finally deemed well enough to be discharged. It was an emotional morning for both of us.

Before her parents arrived, we hung out in her room and talked about our future prospects as she fretted over how to make herself as presentable as possible.

“Which shade of red do you like better? Do you think the shade I have on now is nice, or should I try this?”

I said, “They both look nice to me.”

“Gee, thanks! That was certainly helpful.” She gave me a playful shove.

I laughed before observing, “About as helpful as a husband telling his wife that both dresses look good on her.”

I sat in a chair in the corner as she sat on the edge of her bed and skillfully put on her makeup. I was amazed at how second nature it was for her, at how easily she was able to multitask. I saw this as more than an opportunity to spend some time with my friend. I saw it as an opportunity to learn about something that was going to happily lengthen the duration of my current low maintenance routine.

“What are you thinking about over there?” asked Alice, using a tissue to remove some excess lipstick.

“I was thinking about how I can’t remember the last time I wore that much makeup."

Her eyes lit up and she said, “Hey, I’ve got an idea! When I’m done, why don’t we give you an impromptu makeover?”

“Sure, why not. That sounds fun!” I agreed. My heart fluttered at the thought of being able to express more of the femininity that was welling up inside of me.

After agonizing over what to wear for about fifteen minutes, her strappy shoes clicked on the floor as she spun around in a beautiful pleated skirt-reminiscent of the one I was wearing in the park all of those months ago-and a purple blouse.

I smiled and nodded my head and she beamed a big smile. Her enthusiasm waned temporarily when she grabbed a bracelet from on top of her bedside table and put it on.

She quietly sat back down and applied some more concealer to her wrists.

“Hey,” I said. “Do me a favor when you get out. Try and sneak me in some decent food. Lots of chocolate would be nice. I wish the doctor would prescribe me some chocolate instead of my current meds. Not only are they a natural mood enhancer, but they have antioxidants too.”

She laughed and then set the concealer back down on the bedside table. “I’ll see what I can do.” She looked at her watch, patted the bed, and said, “Are we going to do this or what?”

I smiled and walked over. I have to admit, I felt a little embarrassed and self-conscious while she helped me with my makeup. She instructed me while I applied it. Applying a smooth and even layer of foundation was the most vexing part of the ritual.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really terrible at this!”

“Why are you saying you’re sorry? There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that you have some gaps in your memory.”

“I just wish I remembered how, that’s all.”

“Just relax and try again,” she said.

“Alice?” I began, as I applied some blush.

“Uh huh.”

“I need to ask you a favor when you’re on the outside.”

“Oh?”

“I need you to go over to my apartment building in the city and take a look at it and describe it for me. I also need you to Google my name and see what you can find. Like you said, I still have some gaps and I would appreciate your help.”

“I see,” she said with a knowing expression. “The doctors need some more convincing.”

“Something like that.”

“I think I can take time out of my busy schedule and find out for you. I’ll give you a call when I do.”

“That sounds great. I really appreciate it!”

“That’s what friends are for. Right?”

It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

After the trial and error makeup tutorial, she said, “Wow! You look amazing!”

“Really?” I asked, not so subtly fishing for a complement.

“Yes, really.”

I strutted around a little and said, “Not bad for a forty-three year old.”

“You have really nice skin, that’s why.”

“Not as nice as your skin,” I said. She smiled at the compliment. “You know, you’ve got a lot going for you: you’re bright, you’re genuine, you have a beautiful smile, and you have lovely skin. Like I’ve always said, you’d make a terrific actress!”

“You forgot one thing: talent.”

“Don’t run yourself down like that. Don’t ever run yourself down like that. You’ve got talent and I mean that. Remember when you performed that monologue for me? I was blown away.”

“But it was just for an audience of one.”

“Just promise me one thing when you get out.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to stick with acting. Don’t quit just because you’re somewhat a prisoner of your own inhibitions.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay? Okay? Come on, say it like you mean it!”

“Okay Karen. I promise!”

“Thatta girl!” I exclaimed before I gave her a big hug.

Brushing her hair, she casually said, “Do you have anyone waiting for you back home. I’m not trying to pry or anything, it’s just that I’ve never seen anyone come to visit you. That makes me really sad.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I assured her. “I’ll pick up the pieces and move on. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have anyone. I’ll have you waiting for me on the outside.” I gave her another big hug.

She nodded and smiled.

When her parents came to pick her up, we chatted for a while.

“Alice has spoken very highly of you,” said her mother. “Thanks for being such a good friend to her,” she said with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to prevent tears from streaming down my face.

The father shook my hand and said, “For a while there, we weren’t sure if she was going to pull through. Thanks for helping her and us through a difficult time.”

“You’re welcome,” I said meekly.

Now came the difficult part, the part I had been putting off for as long as possible.

As I stood there, unsure of what to say, I couldn’t get over how beautiful Alice looked. She was as bright and cheerful as the idyllic spring landscape outside. She came closer and we embraced.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. “I expect to see you on the outside soon so we can get together over some coffee or lunch or something.”

“I promise,” I said. I wiped away tears and forced a smile. “Goodbye.”

The staff member at the desk got up and swiped her badge and the door opened up.

Alice disappeared into the bright sunshine of the warm spring day.

I walked back to the common room and looked at the card table. I smiled as I looked at the puzzle. Aside from a few missing pieces, it was finished.

A couple of weeks later, I received a much anticipated phone call. I rushed over to the phone.

“Hi Alice!”

“Hey girl! How are you doing?”

“I’m hanging in there I guess. I’m going a little stir crazy though.”

“I hear you, but hang in there. It won’t be too much longer. I’ve got the information you wanted.”

“Great…Uh huh…Uh huh…Really? Good.”

A few minutes later, I thanked Alice and hung up. I believed I’d finally found the key to unlock the door to freedom! I eagerly told Dr. Farley during my next appointment about my new “memories.” Technically, they were memories based on images that formed in my mind’s eye when Alice described my apartment to me and some other unremarkable details of my life. So what if they were second hand memories. As they say, close enough for government work!

I was released about a month later. There was no family or friends that came to pick me up. There wasn’t any kind of tearful goodbye with any of the other patients, just a quiet exit to a waiting taxi outside.

The cab driver greeted me and helped me with my suitcase containing some clothes as well as some makeup that had recently been brought over from my apartment. I found it funny that his eyes briefly greeted my breasts before acknowledging me as a person.

I enjoyed the scenery as it flew past me and thought about the return to the familiar sights and sounds of the city with both anticipation and apprehension.

The cab’s neglected brakes ground the car to a halt in front of a posh looking building. It was strange being back in the city after such a long absence. You don’t realize how habituated you’ve become to the noise until after you’ve returned from a tranquil setting. I stepped out onto the sidewalk, and with arms akimbo, took in my fancy new permanent address. It was just as Alice had described it. The driver brought me my suitcase and I paid him.

“Welcome back Miss Shaw!” said the doorman.

Surreptitiously looking at his name tag and then feigning recognition, I said, “Hi Donny. It’s great to be back.”

“I’m just relieved to see you again. After you went missing, I feared the worst. Thank God is all I can say!”

“Indeed. He must have been watching out for me.”

I pulled out a slip of paper from my purse and stepped into the elevator. I hit the button for the fourth floor and rode in silence.

I stepped out onto an unpopulated floor. I walked down the hallway of the fourth floor, savoring that crisp and dry new carpet smell the whole way. In fact, everything seemed new, even the coating of off white paint on my apartment door. I hesitated after inserting the key into the lock. For some reason, I felt that knocking would be more appropriate. I shrugged off that feeling, turned the key, and slowly opened the door.

After fumbling for the light switch, I said, “Hello? I’m home!”

I don’t know why I said it, but like the transient urge to knock, it just felt like the appropriate thing to do, especially in light of the fact that the apartment seemed too spacious for just one occupant. I half expected a cat to come bounding into the room, announcing its presence with a chirp before rubbing up against my pantyhose.

Besides the spaciousness, one of the first things that caught my attention was that new house smell that the place had. It was as if I hadn’t left the hallway at all.

I took a tour of the apartment. I started in the bedroom. First, I checked out the closet. It was huge! It seemed large enough to be a small bedroom for a child, and every square inch of it was filled up. There were, as expected, lots of dresses and skirts. And there were shoes, shoes, and more shoes. It seemed that there was a pair for every day of the month. And like the hallway and the rest of the apartment, everything seemed brand new.

After perusing the closet, I sat down on the queen sized bed with its floral comforter and rummaged through the drawer. There were just the usual items one would expect to find, but nothing that would offer further enlightenment about Miss Shaw. Among the items were a romance novel and a pair of reading glasses. I tried them on and found that they were the perfect prescription.

I went into the living room and wandered over to the bookshelves. In particular, I was interested if there were any photo albums mixed in with the books. To my dismay, there weren’t any. After checking out the living room with its beautiful suede furniture and large plasma screen television, I went into the other bedroom which had been converted into an office and sought out more information about myself.

I still couldn’t find a photo album or even an address book. I decided to log onto the computer. Maybe all of the photos and information were stored in the computer. Yeah, that was probably it. I’m sure I had an external hard drive lying around somewhere to back up the information too.

I turned on the computer and logged in but, wouldn’t you know it, the damn hard drive crashed.

“Damn!” I said. “Talk about inconvenient.”

I shrugged off the incident and attributed it to the fact that it was a late model computer. But still, something didn’t add up. However, my curiosity would just have to wait. I was too tired. I’d call tech support tomorrow to find out about my options. Right now, all I wanted to do was get something to eat and vegetate in front of the television. I ordered some Chinese food using my debit card and relaxed for the rest of the day.

The next morning, I made a list. I needed to do some grocery shopping, call tech support, get a cell phone, and third and most importantly, Google the name Karen Shaw to find out what the police and doctors didn’t get around to telling me about.

I perused the yellow pages and found a grocer that delivered. While I waited for the knock, I called tech support and was put on hold for what seemed like an interminable amount of time just to find out that all my files were lost and I needed a new computer.

After I had a quick breakfast, I headed downstairs to take a taxi to Best Buy to purchase an iPhone. But before I had the driver drop me off at the store, I went to the nearest bank to check my account balance.

I searched my memory for the pin, and typed it in. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I wasn’t used to seeing so many zeroes!

Oh my God. Ten-thousand dollars!

And that was just checking. I had over seventy thousand in savings. I was so elated that I felt like dancing a jig right then and there; instead, I had a statement printed to find out what my source or sources of income were.

Walking back to the taxi, I was on cloud nine. I think I actually sashayed. It felt really good to be Karen Shaw.

“To Best Buy my good man!” I said to the driver.

Even though I knew exactly what I wanted before I entered the store, I still had to resist the urge to endlessly compare the features of the iPhone with its competitors, which is easy to do when one is confronted with the tyranny of choice.

On the way home, I stopped at a nice restaurant, and while I was there, I gave Alice a call. I was disappointed to get her voice mail.

“Hi Alice. It’s Karen. I’m a free woman now and was wondering if you’d like to meet up for lunch sometime. I look forward to talking to you. Bye.”

When I left the restaurant, a nice young man held the door open for me. The entire day, I think the only time I ever had to open a door for myself was when I was back at my apartment. Being a woman certainly had its advantages and I liked the attention-well, not all of the attention. I could do without guys staring at my tits and mentally undressing me all of the time. Oh well, you have to take the good with the bad as they say.

I was home at last! It was amazing how quickly I had come to call this place home. I kicked my heels off and lounged on the couch with my iPhone in one hand. Even though Alice had filled me in on some of the details, I Googled Karen Shaw anyway to see for myself. Looking at the search results, I got that “something’s not quite right” feeling in my gut.

According to the brief bio, I was forty-three, which I already knew. Also, I was an only child, both of my parents were dead, I was widowed, and I had no children. I found it strange that I didn’t have any family to vouch for my identity at the moment and set my mind at ease. Right now, I felt I needed more reassurance than the recognizing eyes of the doorman.

Before I could delve deeper into the mystery that was Karen Shaw, my phone rang with the default ringtone and my heart skipped a beat.

“Hey girl!” I said to Alice. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice again!”

“It’s good to hear your voice too Karen. I was wondering when you’d call. Are you calling from the city?”

“Yeah. I’m settling back in at my apartment. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch. I know this great café. Would sometime this week be alright?”

“I don’t know about this week. I’m pretty busy. But I think I might be available either Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. How does that sound?”

“It’s all good. I’m quite flexible at the moment. I seem to be a woman of leisure.”

“I’ll tell you what: I’ll go ahead and shoot you a text later today or tomorrow and let you know which day I can hop a train to the city. Okay?”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ve gotta go. My lunch break is almost over. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

I returned to my bio and found that I was a freelance writer-mostly essays and a few short stories-but nothing to write home about. There was a short story collection titled “Out of the Blue” that caught my attention. It seemed an appropriate title for my experiences as of late. The title triggered unwelcome memories of that fateful morning on the park bench. I shuddered, but with the aid of a glass of whiskey, I was able to push it to the back of my mind. I knew I probably shouldn’t be drinking, but then again, there are a lot of things I probably shouldn’t do, like asking too many questions.

Everything was going well until Thursday rolled around. I had ordered some more Chinese food and was reading the local paper. My heart dropped in my chest as my eyes came across a story about a woman’s untimely death.

Late yesterday evening, a thirty-nine year old woman whose name has yet to be released by police, threw herself in front of a bus. She was killed instantly. According to bystanders, the hysterical woman kept shouting “look what they did to me” before she ran into the intersection. One individual said he found it odd that she became enraged when he called her Maam and tried to calm her down. “It was like really weird,” said William Brown, one of the bystanders. “It really seemed to piss her off. She said, ‘Don’t call me maam! Do I look like a maam to you?’ I don’t know, maybe she wanted to be addressed as Miss. Whoever she is, it’s really sad that she felt she had to resort to suicide.” According to police, her motivations still remain a mystery.

I felt a chill run down my spine. I rushed over to the kitchen and made myself a mixed drink and downed it like a shot. Then, I made myself another, and sipped it as I sat on the couch.

“Damn it,” I quietly protested. “Everything was going so well. Why did I have to read the paper today just so I could come across this?”

I shook my head and once again questioned the line I had drawn separating fantasy from reality. I began to suspect that this line wasn’t permanent like a stone wall; rather, it was just some arbitrary line I had drawn in the sand under the guidance of a doctor’s arrogance. Maybe this person called Eric Campbell did exist. I made up my mind then and there to indulge my burning curiosity against my better judgment.

The next day, I did some research on private detectives. I wanted to find out if this Eric Campbell existed in the first place.

I made an appointment and stopped by on Tuesday of the following week. The detective greeted me with a light handshake and a gruff voice.

“Good morning Miss Shaw. Thank you for being on time.”

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly,” I said.

As he sat down, I noticed that he was kind of cute in a John Goodman sort of a way. I tried to keep the smiling to a minimum. I wasn’t here to flirt. I was here to get down to business.

He pulled out a piece of paper and put on his reading glasses. “So, you want me to track down a Mr. Eric Campbell. Correct?”

“Yes. He’s a former high school crush. I tried to get in touch with him myself but it seems like he just fell off of the grid.” I let out a nervous little laugh.

“Just to let you know, I charge a standard upfront fee for such an investigation and I cannot make any guarantees.”

“I understand.” I handed him an envelope, and said, “I hope cash is alright.”

He chuckled. “Yes Miss Shaw, cash is quite acceptable.”

“Oh, and by the way. I almost forgot.”

I pulled out a slip of paper with Eric’s social security number and handed it to him. The detective gave me a questioning glance, wondering why I had such detailed information about a boy I supposedly had a fling with a quarter of a century ago.

“Don’t worry,” I attempted to reassure him. “I’m not with the IRS or anything. Let’s just say I have a really good memory.”

He tapped his fingers and said, “Like I said, I’ll do my best. I’ll send you a text when I’ve got some leads.”

“Great,” I said. “I look forward to your call.”

When I got up out of my chair, I noticed something seemed to be on the detective’s mind.

“Miss Shaw. Can I ask you a question?”

I checked my watch before saying, “Sure.”

Realizing I was probably very busy, he said, “Never mind. It’s not important.”

With that, I walked out and took the elevator back down into the lobby.

Based on my woman’s intuition, I got the impression that he wasn’t just interested in me as a client. Did he want to ask me out to lunch sometime? Realizing that I hadn’t been on a real date in a very long time, the prospect was quite appealing.

That night, I awoke early in the morning in a cold sweat. I dreamed I was homeless and curled up on a piece of cardboard in some anonymous alley somewhere. The feeling of despair lingered after I awoke. I cried because it seemed so real. I had to turn on the lights to convince myself that I was in my apartment and safe. I shuffled into the bathroom, wiped the tears from my eyes and broke a sleeping pill in half and swallowed it.

As I lay there in the dark, I found I still had trouble falling asleep. I got out of bed and walked over to the living room and scanned the bookshelves. I picked up Stephen King’s collection of short stories and flipped to Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. I only got about ten pages into the story before I drifted off into a wonderful deep and dreamless sleep.

The next day, I overslept. I rushed through my routine. In my haste to leave the apartment in time so I wouldn’t be late for lunch with Alice, I forgot to take my medication.

I arrived a few minutes late and searched through the patio tables for Alice. She waved at me and I carefully weaved my way between the tables and waiters. She set down the frozen daiquiri she was enjoying and stood up to greet me. We embraced as tightly as we did during that emotional goodbye over a month ago.

“God,” I said, “You have no idea how wonderful it is to see a familiar face!”

“It’s good to see you too Karen,” she said.

“Oh,” I said as I sat down, “Thanks for ordering me a drink.”

“It’s mango iced tea. I thought you might like it.”

“It’s delicious!” I took another long sip to get rid of a serious case of cottonmouth I had developed. “Well, my dear. You look positively glowing today!” She was wearing a lovely sundress with blue flowers and I found myself envying her youth at the moment.

“Thanks,” she said modestly as she brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. “You’re looking good yourself.”

I let out a little laugh. “Thanks for being kind. I feel a little out of sorts after having to rush over here. I’m sorry I was late.”

“Don’t worry about it. I think it counts as fashionably late anyway.”

We placed our order and a few minutes later, our salads had arrived.

We made the usual chit chat as we munched on our salads. I found out that Alice was doing well. She was only working part time at a restaurant. Her parents wanted to make sure she eased back into a normal routine.

“What about school?” I asked. “Are you thinking about pursuing a degree in theater?”

“I really want to, but that’s on the back burner right now. I can’t just up and go off to finish college right now. My parents want to make sure that I don’t…relapse.”

“Are you okay?” It was clear that something was clearly disturbing her.

“That word scares the hell out of me…Relapse I mean. Usually I can push the possibility to the back of my mind, but what if I do relapse? What if I go back to that dark place and can’t find my way back. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t,” she asserted with pleading eyes.

“Listen to me,” I said firmly, grasping her hand, “You don’t have to go back there. You don’t ever have to go there again. Just stick with your meds and keep going to your treatments and everything will be fine. Just worry about the important things, like finding a guy to date that isn’t a complete asshole.” I was glad that I managed to get her to smile. What I didn’t tell her was that I was just as terrified of the word relapse as she was at the moment.

“How are things with you Karen, memory-wise I mean?”

“Slowly but surely, things are coming back to me,” I said.

“That’s good to hear. I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been to wake up one morning and not know how you got there or even who you are.”

“It was difficult, but now it’s behind me. Thank God.” I forced a smile.

Everything seemed to be going well. The food was as good as our conversation and our spirits, and I thought I was well on my way to forming a memory for Karen Shaw to cherish for the rest of her life. But, as it turned out, the day was memorable for all of the wrong reasons.

I first noticed it in between our salads being cleared and our main courses being brought out. I just didn’t feel right. I felt really agitated and on edge, and these feelings seemed to come out of the blue. Or did they? I wondered if they had something to do with missing a dose of my medication.

“Karen, are you alright?” asked Alice after her vegetarian plate was placed before her.

“I’m fine,” I said, diving into my mahi mahi with a fork. “My blood sugar is probably a little low, that’s all.”

“I know what you mean. I’m not very agreeable if I miss a meal.”

But agitation grew into a full blown panic attack when I heard an ambulance burst onto the scene. It pulled up alongside the curb across the street. The paramedics rushed into the store and wheeled out an older gentleman on a gurney who was clutching his chest, apparently having a heart attack. The way he was writhing around in pain triggered something in my mind.

A memory raced through my brain in a nanosecond of me writhing around like the man in the gurney; Only in the memory, I wasn’t having a heart attack. I knew there was nothing wrong with me but I was terrified anyway, and I didn’t know why.

My heart started pounding in my chest and I dropped my fork on the floor. As if I was having an allergic reaction, I found it increasingly difficult to breathe which just made my heart race faster. The terror from the memory was replaced with the terror and fear of the moment.

I rushed into the bathroom and sought refuge in one of the stalls. I finally got my breathing under control by the time Alice came in to check on me.

“Karen, are you alright? What happened back there?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be alright.” But I wasn’t fine. I started softly crying. “Just give me a few minutes. Please just give me a few minutes.”

It took me a while to compose myself and even longer to fix my makeup. God, what a mess I looked like in the mirror!

I finally walked back out onto the patio, able to present a smile to Alice.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I think I forgot to take my meds. But I’m okay now.”

“If you’re not feeling well, it’s okay. You can go ahead and leave. We can finish catching up some other time.”

“Nonsense. After all, it’s too beautiful outside for me to leave and let my mahi mahi go cold.”

The rest of the meal was as light on conversation as the salad dressing. We said our goodbyes and during the cab ride back, I was still at a loss as to why I had the panic attack in the first place. The memory was too fuzzy and it faded too quickly for me to hang on to.

The following Monday, the detective got back to me.

“Yes detective, what did you find?”

“You’re not going to like this, but I found nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“But what about the social security number I gave you?”

“There’s no record of anyone having that social security number, let alone one Mr. Eric Campbell. You must have been remembering incorrectly and given me the wrong SSN.”

“Maybe I transposed a digit or something. Did you think of that?”

“Yes I did, and I still got no hits. In fact, there’s no record of anyone named Eric Campbell matching the description you gave me. There’s no record of him attending the high school where you graduated. Are you sure that you’re not mistaken?”

I should have been relieved that he had found nothing, but instead, I felt ambivalent.

“Miss Shaw, are you still there?”

“Yes. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I need to go now. Goodbye.” I hung up.

I should have just let things be. I should’ve been satisfied that by disproving the existence of Eric Campbell, I had provided the verification that immediate family members were unable to provide; however, the panic attack haunted me and I began to wonder if perhaps a past life experience might be intruding into the present in a very bizarre way.

Now it was time to do some more internet research on past life regression hypnosis. I figured what the hell. I was lucky enough to have thousands of dollars to indulge a whim on the off chance it might provide the closure the detective was unable to give me.

I still remember that unforgettable look on the regression hypnotherapist’s face when I first came to.

His mouth was gaping open and he was looking at me with eyes wide open without blinking. It was as if he had learned the truth about the Roswell incident from the aliens themselves.

Other than his expression, I noticed my face was wet and my mascara had run.

“Is everything alright?” I wondered. “What is it? What did I remember that has you looking like you could use a stiff drink right about now?” He remained stunned. “Really, what is it? What did I tell you?” His silence was really starting to scare me.

With a stunned expression still etched onto his face, he walked over in silence and handed me the tape recorder.

“You…You need to listen to this,” he said quietly. “I think I’ll take your advice and have that drink now.”

As he turned to head out of his office, “I asked, “Would you like me to write a check?”

“I’ll send you a bill.”

I looked down at the tape recorder and wondered what answers it contained.

When I arrived back at the apartment, curiosity didn’t get the best of me right away. Suddenly, I was afraid of what I might have said during the session. A thought popped into my head: should I listen and risk being stunned or horrified at the truth? More importantly, did I really need to know the truth? I liked being Karen Shaw. I liked being a woman. And I liked my comfortable apartment. Was I willing to jeopardize my new found sense of contentment for some potentially unpalatable answers?

I set the tape recorder on the coffee table and stared at it for a while as I thought it over. Then, I read the disturbing article about the woman’s suicide once more. After reading the article, I summoned the courage to listen. I fixed myself a drink, realizing that I’d probably need one to fortify my resolve.

I took a deep breath and pressed the play button of the tape recorder and heard the therapist’s calming voice.

Karen, you are now in a state of perfect relaxation. I want you to visualize a staircase. Do you see the staircase?

Oh God, please don’t let them take me in there and make my outside match my insides! I don’t want a sex change! I don’t want a sex change!

I pressed the stop button and dropped the tape recorder on the table. I couldn’t take anymore of listening to my screaming. Fighting back tears, I pulled out the cassette and ripped out the ribbon. I threw it in the trashcan. Instead of reaching for my mixed drink, I grabbed a bottle of tequila and took a swig. Then, I rushed to the medicine cabinet and popped another pill.

After I calmed down, I grabbed my phone and called the detective.

“Hi. It’s Karen Shaw again. I need to ask you to do one more thing for me. I need you to track down Jonathan Campbell and Deborah Campbell. Jonathan Campbell was born on…was born on… July 22nd 1930, and my moth…I mean Deborah Campbell was born on December 4th 1939 I think. Actually, it might have been December 3rd 1939 or 1940. I’m not sure. They used to live in Springfield Missouri. I don’t know what their new address is. That’s all I have for you. Thank you.”

As I became drowsy, I thought about how difficult it was becoming to remember details of my life. The life story of one Eric Campbell had faded like the deck of a weathered boat. I needed to strike while the iron was still hot, before everything faded away and there was only Karen. I had to find someone to vouch for the existence of Eric Campbell. I owed him that much.

I thought about how Eric probably hadn’t spoken to his parents in years, what with living on the street for so long. They probably figured him for dead long ago and mourned. And, for all I knew, they could have been dead and buried long ago. If they were alive, and the detective found them, they would never believe such a fantastic story, and if they were dead, I’d feel guilty about selfishly falling off the grid and missing the funeral. Either way, I’d never have a relationship with them again.

I realized that I was reaching the point of diminishing returns-if I hadn’t sailed past it already.

As it turns out, I was half right. The detective informed me that Jonathan Campbell had died of heart disease five and a half years ago and my mother was in a nursing home in Missouri, suffering from some form of dementia. I decided against going to see a woman who, on a good day, might be aware of where she was. The last thing I wanted to do was upset my poor, widowed, and senile mother.

I decided to move on. I never paid another visit to the regression hypnotherapist, and I never bothered the private detective again. I wrote Eric Campbell off as dead once and for all just as his parents probably had, and decided to re-embrace my new life. I was Karen Shaw again, and I liked the attractive and confident woman I saw in the mirror.

Three years later…I remember it like it was yesterday. I was jogging on the treadmill at the fitness center just like I always did on a Monday. I was listening to my iPod while watching the news headlines lazily scroll along the bottom of the screen, when the station broke away from commercials for a breaking news story.

This just in: We’re just now receiving information from our correspondents in Israel. The localized outbreak of a flu-like virus in southern Israel that we were reporting on earlier in the week has unfortunately spread, and has now been classified as a regional outbreak. Our sources tell us that only women have fallen ill. For some unknown reason, men seem to be immune to the virus. The death toll thus far is seventy-three and climbing, with more and more women being admitted to hospitals with the same symptoms as we speak. It is unclear whether the virus has spread beyond Israel’s borders, and as a result, panic is now widespread. Millions of women in neighboring countries are refusing to leave the safety of their homes for fear of dying, even though there have been no reports of the deadly illness outside of Israel. A state of emergency has been declared in Israel and emergency quarantine measures have been enacted. All air travel in and out of Israel has been suspended as of this morning, and other countries are following suit. In the U.S., the President has already signed an emergency declaration suspending all air travel in and out of the United States. At airports throughout the U.S., traffic has already almost come to a standstill as hundreds of thousands of frustrated, scared, and stranded passengers…

I turned off the treadmill and experienced a perfect moment of clarity. I wasn’t afraid. There was a reason everything happened to me after that cold late February day back in 2010! I now knew my purpose. I was an insurance policy in case a terrorist or terrorists unleashed such an unthinkable virus on half of the world’s population. I sincerely hoped that the virus would be contained. And I sincerely wished that my hope was not a life raft in one-hundred foot seas.

Karen Shaw once again finds herself swept up in events beyond her control that make her traumatic experience in the park that fateful morning and her 'stay' at the psychiatric hospital pale in comparison. As her cooperation is forced, she only begins to get the slightest inkling of her unenviable destiny when she first learns about project Eve 2.0.

By now, a sizeable portion of the thin women that populated this pricy gym were starting to gather around in front of the flat screens in the cardio area. They in stunned silence, most with their hand over their mouth, as they contemplated the implications of a horrifying “what if” scenario that no one wished to utter aloud.

With ear-buds now carelessly draped over their shoulders, everyone looked at each other during the commercial break, and as if it were choreographed, they pulled out their smart phones at the same time.

I decided to follow suit. I hit the speed dial button for my boyfriend William, but I couldn’t get through. I tried half a dozen times before giving up for the time being, figuring the system was probably overwhelmed by the entire city calling spouses, loved ones, and the like at the same time.

I cut my workout short and calmly got the hell out of there. In the ten minutes that had elapsed between the airing of the story and my exit, the room had filled up like a club on Saturday night; only in this instance, there would be no need for a fire marshal to enforce the max capacity rule. I anticipated an exodus of pallid and sweaty females very soon, perspiring more than they did during their workouts, as they rushed out with their phones glued to their ears, frantically hitting the send button over and over again, nearly as fast as their racing hearts. I know I was as I rushed down the steps.

I grabbed my bag from my locker and made a b-line for the exit. Everyone’s attention was as rapt down here as it was up there. I think I could have strolled out in my underwear without anyone noticing.

As I walked through the parking lot toward my car, my earlier sense of purpose and calm was destroyed. I was really starting to get scared now, just like all of the other women at the gym, just like everyone else on the planet. The sea of cars in the lot, the fast moving streams of traffic in the distance, and the countless number of lit windows on all of the buildings and homes represented all of the potential lives that could be destroyed if the unthinkable was able to sneak its way across our borders.

I got into my car, took a few deep breaths, and then hit the road. Since I left early, I figured I’d make myself useful and run to the grocery store to get a jump start on the week’s shopping. I needed anything to keep my mind occupied, but that didn’t include the radio. I didn’t dare turn on NPR. I was terrified of what I might hear next; instead, I listened to some classical music, all the while telling myself that there was no need to panic yet. However, apparently I was in the minority this evening.

“Good Lord!” I exclaimed, turning into the parking lot of the grocery store.

It was like Black Friday and pre-landfall Superstorm Sandy all rolled into one! I circled around the lot over a dozen times until finally getting lucky, and by lucky, I mean a space all the way in the back.

By the time I reached the doors, even the fire lane was filling up. I swear to God, it was a good thing I had my wits about me, because I almost got run over a couple of times. Pedestrian right of way had been all but forgotten in this mess, just like street signs were considered suggestions in rush hour traffic in New Delhi.

I navigated my way through the thick and frenzied activity. As I looked around, initially, I found it odd that there were so few manned registered this time of the day. I only saw two female employees, and the younger of the two was in a heated discussion with the store manager.

All that I heard was, “Then I quit! If you expect me to stay than you’re crazy. God only knows what the government isn’t telling us!”

The next thing I heard as I made my way back to the dairy section was an announcement by the manager. With strained composure he said:

All employees with any cashier training are needed immediately to the front end. Stockers, this includes you!

I forced a laugh as I neared the rear of the store. I was only thinking about dinner this evening and breakfast tomorrow, but everyone else looked like they were preparing for the end of the world. As you would expect, items like canned goods and bottled water were flying off the shelves.

I reached the cooler in the back, grabbed some milk, and headed for the seafood department. When I got there, I felt like I had found an oasis of calmness. While other shoppers were just mindlessly shoving items in their carts, I strolled like I was at a farmer’s market on a perfect day, perusing the selection of fresh fish.

A nice young man emerged from the back and his face lit up.

“Oh hi Miss Shaw. What can I get for you this evening?”

“Three swordfish steaks please Trent.”

“Coming right up!”

While he was wrapping my order in cellophane, he stopped his customary humming at the sound of an altercation breaking out, and stared over my left shoulder at two men that seemed like they were ready to come to blows over either canned chicken or tuna. I wasn’t sure.

He said, “Why do I all of the sudden feel like I’ve been living under a rock of something? I’ve never seen the evening rush quite like this before.”
“You...You mean you haven’t heard the news from the Mideast?”

“No, I was on my break and listening to my…” He froze, as my casual the mention of the word Mideast thoroughly sunk in. His eyes went wide and I think his dark skin became one shade lighter.

“Oh my God! What happened?” he asked, leaning in toward me.

I shook my head and bowed it ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. The outbreak of that virus in Israel has gone regional. But that’s not the worst part. Only women seem to be falling ill and…dying.”

“You mean the men are immune?”

“Well, it looks like that’s the case, at least for now until it mutates God forbid. They’re not sure if it’s spread beyond Israel’s borders or not.”

“Oh my holy God,” he confessed. “Talk about one hell of a scary situation.” He pursed his lips before saying, “Shit…I’d better call my girlfriend…Oh, sorry about my language Miss Shaw.”

“Quite understandable. This is definitely the biggest ‘oh shit’ moment humanity has ever faced.”

He soberly acknowledged that truth with a nod, before handing me my order.

“Take care of yourself now Miss Shaw. You hear? Stay safe.”

“I will Trent.”

I finished my shopping and walked down the aisle to get in line at one of the automated checkouts, but the line, as it turns out, met me when I was only half way down the cosmetic’s aisle. I peered down the aisle, towards the front end, and realized that I was the only woman on that aisle. I almost laughed at the irony.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, it was my turn, and I quickly and efficiently started scanning my items, unlike the elderly gentleman behind me who was having some difficulty on account of his arthritis no doubt.

Of course, my cell phone rang in the middle of scanning, demonstrating Murphy’s Law in action. Given how quickly so many people had developed a chronic cough all of the sudden behind the elderly gentleman, who had just asked for assistance for a second time, I thought better of answering it even though William was probably stressed out of his mind. They hadn’t cut the old man any slack and I’m not sure if they’d cut me any at the moment either, even though I was a woman. Good manners seemed to have been swept aside like certain rights in post 9/11 America after the speedy passage of the Patriot Act.

With my three plastic bags in my left hand, and my iPhone in my right, I hurried toward those sliding doors as fast as during my release from that institution all of those years ago.

Like a pedestrian in a busy city, I waited to take the first tentative steps through all of the honking and weaving in front of me. I checked my messages while I waited. I shuddered as I looked at William’s text:

Please come home ASAP! Call me when you get this text.

I texted him back as I made my way to the back of the parking lot. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the gentleman wearing the blue sweat shirt who had been waiting next to me by the curb for politeness to prevail, was headed down the same row. Something in my gut told me something was wrong. He wasn’t even carrying one shopping bag. He just had a cell phone pressed to his ear.

I picked up the pace and I was even with the third to the last car in the row when it happened.

At first, I thought he was talking to me when he said, “Go now!”

Before I could whip my head around, I heard the screeching of tires to my left and saw the fast approach of a white van. I turned around to run, but the guy in the blue sweats was already on me. He ripped my phone out of my hand and it smashed against the back of the car about the same time as my bags slipped out of my other hand and the milk exploded on the ground.

I tried to slug him with my right fist but he ducked out of the way. As my momentum carried me, I was confronted with more than just the open door of the white van as I spun around. A taller and more muscular man had come out of nowhere.

“Grab her feet!” said the man in the blue sweats, now restraining me from behind.

I screamed and writhed, trying to free myself from their paralyzing rock hard grip as they carried me to the van. But it was to no avail.

They tossed me in, and as quickly as the door slammed shut, another anonymous man in dark clothes slapped some duck tape over my mouth while someone else shoved a bag down over my head.

As the van sped away to God only knows where, I started sobbing like that morning after I first awoke on that park bench as Karen Shaw; only I had never been this terrified in my life.

By the time the van finally came to a full and complete stop, the bag was clinging to my face from all of the perspiration and crying, but mostly from the crying. And I had no idea of how much time had passed. It could have been twenty minutes. It could have been an hour. I didn’t know. However, as I was ‘escorted’ out, one thing I did know was that this place smelled awful. There was this stagnant acrid smell that just hung in the air as they dragged me forward to my final destination. I winced at the sound of a door screeching as it slid open. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Jesus Christ!” declared one of the men. “As sophisticated as this whole op is, you’d think someone coulda’ bought some WD-40 for fucks sake.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth!” growled another man with a slightly deeper voice. “Don’t let him catch you takin’ the lord’s name in vain.”

“Right. Don’t want to upset the ‘prophet.’”

Our footsteps echoed as we walked across what I could only imagine was concrete. After a few moments, we came to a stop. The echoes faded just in time to hear the steady approach of footsteps that were scarily calm and methodical, unlike the clumsy movements of the thugs who had abducted me.

My heart skyrocketed once more at the sound of an equally terrifying cold voice

“Language gentleman. Language,” said my newest acquaintance of the day.

I could feel the bodies on either side of me stiffen, assuming unnaturally good posture for this sorry lot. This guy was definitely the alpha wolf.

“Mind your manners gentleman,” said the leader. “We are, don’t forget, in the presence of a lady.”

I heard barely stifled laughter on either side of me.

“Get him,” whispered one of the thugs. “That’s rich, aint it?”

The bag was yanked off just as forcefully as it was put on by the thugs. Even though the light in the room where I now found myself was dim, my eyes still stung as they quickly adjusted.

“Don’t be scared,” said the leader. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His appearance was just as calculated as his footsteps. He was neatly dressed in slacks and a blue buttoned down shirt. He had a full head of jet black hair that was perfectly slicked back. He smiled a smile that sent a shiver down my spine as he slowly approached me from half a dozen feet away.

He peeled off the duck tape very gingerly as if he were a perfectionist removing painter’s tape.

“There,” he said. “That’s better.” He looked me up and down for a few moments before saying, “I have to say that I am impressed. You are far more lovely in person than I could have imagined. Quite impressive…Please sit down.” He pointed to a chair in front of a desk along the back wall.

Despising the pleasantries as much as the man offering them, I said, “I’d prefer to stand if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish,” he said.

“And another thing: you say you don’t want to hurt me, so what’s up with the guns?” I motioned with my head to beefy man standing guard by the door.

With a dismissive nod from the leader, the ‘muscle’ and his pistol gave us some privacy. The door remained ajar however.

“Well,” he said, “Since you won’t sit, I think maybe I’ll take a load off for a spell. It’s been one heck of a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” I scoffed.

He rested his thin but muscular frame on the edge of the desk. He looked around as he said, “Sorry we cannot offer you more aesthetically pleasing accommodations. I’m sure the ‘institution’ you briefly stayed at seems like a resort compared to this place. But if you cooperate, you won’t have to endure this depressed place much longer and you can go home.”

My eyes were still wide with shock at the mention of the psychiatric hospital.

With an annoying smirk on his face he said, “I know quite a bit about you Miss Shaw, but not quite enough as I’d like to about your involvement in a certain project as it turns out. And so we find ourselves here.”

“Project? What project?”

“It seems the hacker I hired wasn’t quite as up to the job as I thought he was, so I need you to tell me everything you know about project Eve 2.0.”

My expression went blank as quickly as it takes to delete a page in a word document. I shook my head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I quietly asserted.

“Mmm hmm,” he muttered. He sighed before saying, “This day is going to be a lot longer than I thought.”

He shook his head and started walking toward the door. His lips were pursed like an overachieving student who suddenly and for the first time in his life hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

His silence scared me and I started pleading, “I swear to God, whatever you think I know about this project, I don’t. I mean honestly, I really don’t.”

Still ignoring me, he loitered by the door, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. After chewing the situation over in his mind for a bit, he nonchalantly motioned with his head for the help to return.

“Looks like it’s plan B gentleman, or is this really plan C?” He shook his head again. “Like I said, it’s been a long day.”

Two of the biggest men approached me, one with a strange look of satisfaction on his face to be able to put it some overtime.

I began retreating to the corner of the room like a caged animal. These two guys who could’ve been former linebackers picked me up like I was a sack of rice. They dumped me in the chair, forcing me to finally take their leader up on his former polite offer.

As they held me captive, a man in a lab coat approached. He was holding a needle and a vial of some kind.

“Hold out her left arm please,” said the short middle aged doctor.

He prepped my arm, with the smell of alcohol burning my nasal passages like that damn acrid smell that still lingered in this room.

“This will only sting a little,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice, as if I was a kid about to get a booster shot.

I couldn’t watch as he brought the needle close to my throbbing vein. I looked away and struggled once more in futile desperation.

“It will only hurt more if you don’t cooperate,” said the Doc. “It’s not poison. It’s just something that will help you relax and clear your mind.”

The two men tightened their grip, and forced that part of my body to comply like the good girl I certainly wasn’t at the moment.

He depressed the plunger, and surprisingly, it hardly stung. Whatever the hell he had given me, I was feeling kind of good. It was like I had taken way too much cold medicine followed a whiskey chaser. I drifted into a floating awareness as the Doc checked my pupil dilation with a flashlight. Just like back at the hospital with Alice, everything was just washing over me.

My vision was now a little blurry, but as the Doc headed for the door, I could make out the face of the leader. He knelt down and leaned his face toward me.

He whispered, “If Karen Shaw won’t tell us what we need to know, then perhaps a certain Eric Campbell will. And as soon as we know, then the whole world will know about our government’s sick and immoral experiment.”

The last thing I remember, either than thinking he needed a breath mint, was him pointing to a camera on a tripod in the corner of the room.

“It’s show time Eric,” he said.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the darkness, feeling disoriented with something soft conforming to the contours of my sore back. I immediately knew I was inside at least. There was no breeze, just that stale air making my throbbing headache even worse.

Before the acuity of my vision sufficiently improved to take in my new cramped quarters, something that sounded like a really loud firecracker jolted me out of the disorienting fog I was still swimming in.

The next loud pop had me practically levitating off the bed. And that pop was followed by several in quick succession. I didn’t have any military training, and I didn’t need any. It was the unmistakable sound of gunfire and my heart dropped in my chest at that realization.

My heart raced as I raced around the room in a desperate fumbling effort to find a way out or at the very least, some place to hide. But all I found besides a bed surrounded by what looked like cinderblock walls was an equally thick door that just wouldn’t budge.

I retreated to the corner and listened to the desperate muffled confrontation playing itself out on the other side.

I heard a ferocious burst of gunfire, and then nothing. The eerie silence had me shaking like a leaf in the corner, wondering who had won, and if it really even mattered whether or not the anonymous aggressors had prevailed.

I started to make my peace with God. I had never really been that religious, but as they say, there are no atheists in fox holes.

A pounding on the door sent my heart rate skyrocketing even higher.

“Karen Shaw?” asked a deep male voice.

I simply froze.

“Miss Shaw, this is Captain Hicks. My team and I are here to rescue you. Miss Shaw. Do you hear me? Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat and in a raspy voice said, “I’m here. I guess I’m okay.”

“Look,” said Hicks, “We’re going to have you outta there in a hot second, okay? But I need you to listen to me very carefully. We don’t have the key and we don’t have time to go around lookin’ for it. We’re gonna have to blow the lock. What I need you to do is to get to the far corner of the room and…do you have anything to shield yourself with?”

“Ummm…There’s just a mattress!” I hollered back.

“Good. Now get to the back corner and shield yourself with that. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready!”

I closed my eyes and gripped the dingy mattress for dear life.

“Cover your ears Miss Shaw! Fire in the hole!”

Boom!

Seconds later, the door opened and the light sifted in through the smoky haze, stinging my eyes. Still clutching the mattress, I peered from behind it. A heavily armored soldier walked over, kneeled down and extended his arm. The warm smile on his dusty face was the most beautiful I’d ever seen.

“It’s okay Miss Shaw. You’re safe now.”

My shaky hand met his and he helped me up. With legs feeling rubbery and unsure, I leaned in and gave him a big hug.

“Thank you! Thank you so much for saving me! When I heard all of that gunfire, I thought I was done for.” I started wiping away the tears that were starting to flow.

“Everything’s going to be alright.” He extended his arm and said, “Right this way. Let’s get you the heck out this God forsaken place.”

“Hey Doc!” shouted Hicks. He waved for him to come over.

“I’m fine,” I lamely assured.

“No Miss Shaw,” said Hicks. “You’re not fine until the Doc says you are.”

As it turns out, I should have taken Hicks at his word. I was fine for about two seconds until I caught a glimpse of the aftermath of the battle lying on the ground to my left. There they were: two of the men from the van riddled with bullets. I immediately winced and averted my gaze, but all of the residual adrenaline pumping through my veins branded the image into my mind’s eye. The numerous streams of blood oozing out of them onto the cold floor were like tributaries, merging into an impromptu river that was coursing its way toward a cracked depression in this awful place.

As the doctor met us halfway, I started to feel like I did that time in the shower back at the hospital, only worse. My eyes became blurrier than after that injection, and my ears started ringing as well. It’s not like it is in the movies, because in the movies there isn’t the smell to go along with experience.

“She doesn’t look so good,” said the doctor.

“No shit,” said Hicks.

“She’s going into shock,” said the doc. “Give me a hand with her sir.”

Now, instead of being dragged, I was being carried out like a wounded football player through the scurrying activity of the rest of the team.

“Hurry up with that stretcher!” shouted the doc. “Come on Karen. Don’t you pass out on me. You can make it. We’re almost there honey.”

I just kept saying, “I just need a minute. Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”

The stretcher met up with us, but not before I turned my head and vomited, getting a fair amount on my shoes and Hick’s boots as well.

“Sorry about that sir,” I said. I gave Hicks a weak salute as they helped me onto the stretcher.

As some color started returning to my face, the last thing I saw before I was wheeled across the threshold toward the Humvees parked under a twilight sky, was a medic treating him. The leader was still alive, but just barely by the looks of things. However, his current state notwithstanding, he gave me the iciest stare I’ve ever had the displeasure of being on the receiving end of.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked, the echo of his voice spilling out into all of the commotion associated with the post-operation cleanup. You should have let me kill that thing that you’re wheeling out! She’s an abomination! She’s an abomination before the eyes of God!”

Hicks looked over at the Doc. “What the hell is that crazy fuck going on about?”

The Doc responded to the anger burning in Hick’s questioning eyes with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s a religious nut job. What do you expect?”

Hicks held my hand and smiled. “Look, I’m sorry about the language, but no one should ever, ever, talk to another human being like that.”

“Thanks,” I said, still trying to recover from the sting of those hateful words, words that made the word faggot seem like a term of endearment. I glanced back at the warehouse before observing, “And judging by how much he was bleeding, I don’t expect he’ll be around much longer to talk to anyone like that again.”

“As much as I’d like that to be the case, we still need the bastard for questioning. We still…”

His eyes landed on something to my right and he proceeded to stand at attention nearly as fast as my fainting spell had come on.

“Sir!” said Hicks.

The well decorated officer to my right saluted back. “At ease Captain.” Ignoring the Captain’s heroic effort for a moment, the officer looked at the doctor and asked, “How is she?”

The Doc placed his flashlight in his pocket and said, “They seem to have taken pretty good care of her. She’s unharmed…Physically at least. It looks like they gave her some sodium pentothal, but until we get the blood work back, we won’t know for sure.”

He looked at Hicks and said, “Excellent work Captain. I can’t even begin to tell you how pleased I was when I was informed that your team suffered no casualties.” He extended his arm and the two shook hands.

“Thank you sir,” said Hicks.

I sat up and raised my hand.

“Whoa Miss Shaw!” cautioned the Doc. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

The officer finally acknowledged me in the first person. “Yes, what is it Miss Shaw?”

“When do I get to go home?”

The smile on the officer’s face in response to my overexertion disappeared at the mention of the word home. He looked at me for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. Just as he opened his mouth, his phone rang.

“Excuse me Miss Shaw, I have to take this call…Yes sir. I was just about to call you sir. I have good news. The asset is alive and well.”

I looked at Hicks with questioning eyes. “Asset? What does he mean by asset? He’s not talking about me is he? I’ve been called many things but never an asset.”

“Sorry,” admitted Hicks, rubbing the back of his neck. “That info is on a need to know and is way above my pay grade.”

Then, it dawned on me: Does this have something to do with project Eve 2.0? It must!

I craned my neck to try and glean any more information regarding my role as an asset, but the Officer had strolled farther down the perimeter and was just out of ear shot.

“Damn it!” I exclaimed, lying back down. “I just want to know when the hell I can go home. My boyfriend is probably worried sick about me! Oh Jesus, I can’t believe I forgot about him. I must have really been out of it for a while. You need to call him and tell him I’m okay, or better yet, just give me a phone and I’ll call him myself.”

Hicks grasped my hand once more and his calm voice brought the rapid beating of my heart under control.

“Relax Miss Shaw. If he hasn’t been informed yet, I’m sure someone is in the process of notifying him right now.”

“I just wanna make sure, because if the situation was reversed, I know I’d be going out my mind, pacing back and forth on the carpet and probably wearing a rut into it.”

“He can meet you at the hospital,” assured the Doc. “Then, after we’ve done some tests and kept you overnight for observation, you can go home.”

“That sounds good,” I said.

But what wasn’t good, was the tail end of the conversation I caught as the officer walked back toward us.

“Yes sir. I agree. At this point, I think prayer isn’t such a bad idea either…Okay then. I’ll report back when she’s in the air and en route.”

I looked at Hick’s and said, “What is he talking about? I thought I was just going to be admitted to the hospital and then released.”

The officer hung his head in his hands for a few moments until he regained his composure after hearing whatever devastating end of the world news he was privy to.

“Change of plans Miss Shaw,” he said abruptly. “Suffice it to say that we need to assume worst case scenario and take every precaution.” He glanced at his watch. “We have a chopper en route to pick you up and take you to an airstrip. ETA is about fifteen minutes, just before dawn. From there, you’ll be taken to a safe location at a military base.”

“Where exactly?” I demanded. “I need to know. My boyfriend needs to know.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that because it’s classified. But what I can tell you is that he has been informed that you are alive and well and that your welfare is being well attended to. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some other business to attend to.” Before I could say anything further on the matter, he said, “Good luck.”

Hicks was at a loss for words as much as I was at the moment.

“What are you involved in?” he finally asked. “Are you some kind of scientist or something?”

I simply smiled and shook my head. “I really never considered myself that important.”

“Well, from where I’m standing it certainly doesn’t seem that way to me. I mean, did you see the way he was looking at you, like you’re our last hope or something.”

“Yeah. Talk about weird…Hey Hicks, can I ask you something? Since…since I was abducted, how bad has it gotten?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” I reassured. “I’m not so shaken up anymore that you can’t level with me.”

“Well there isn’t really anyway to sugar coat it. A lot has happened in almost thirty-six hours.”

“Thirty-six hours? I thought it was tomorrow morning!”

“I guess you would have found out during your debriefing,” he said.

“Well, thanks for the FYI,” I said. I cleared my throat before continuing. “So the virus has spread

He nodded.

I braced myself before asking, “How far?”

“Too damn far. It’s spread like wildfire across the Atlantic. Right now, cases are being reported throughout the entire Middle East, Africa, Asia, Europe…Don’t know about Australia though. Last I heard, some women had fallen ill, but there isn’t any confirmation yet. Same deal here in the US. On the west coast, some people have been admitted with flu like symptoms, but no confirmation.”

“So it’s just a matter of time then,” I said.

He paused before soberly acknowledging a rapidly approaching truth. “Probably.”

“I guess two big old oceans on either side can only buy you so much time.”

He didn’t even lift his head to try and force a smile at my lame joke.

“Oh my God,” I said. “I’m so sorry. Are you married or is she your girlfriend?”

Without looking back up, he said, “Engaged actually. Looks like the wedding planning is going to be put on the backburner for a while, huh?”

He wiped away a couple of tears from his dusty face before regaining his composure enough to greet me with some remnant hope on his face.

He smiled and said, “But all is not lost yet. All we can do now is be vigilant and hope for the best.”

I stood up and looked to the heavens, but not to pray. A bright light on the horizon caught my eye, but I knew it wasn’t a star. The first rays peeking above the horizon had already drowned out the rest of the feeble star light. The helicopter on its way. Soon, it would land and I would have no choice but to get in; just like I had no say in going to the psychiatric hospital; just like I had no say when it came to contacting my boyfriend. Well I sure as hell wanted to have a say at that moment. After all I’d been through, I deserved to have a say, for I had far, far, too much to leave behind now.

With arms akimbo, I thought of Alice and wondered if perhaps she was right about what she had said about futility when she was still had that dark cloud hanging over her. I would hate for the painful trial and error portion that characterized her long struggle toward the light to end up being in vain. I decided then and there, that no matter how far away they took me, I wouldn’t give up on her, even if I had to die trying to save her. She was too young to have her beautiful light extinguished.

But for now, all I could do was summon the courage to go on, to face the unknown that lie ahead, just as billions of frightened people across the globe were doing right now. The sun may have been rising, but it felt like a lasting darkness was descending. Just like Alice, humanity had a long and painful struggle ahead of them toward the light.

Up until now, the lingering question has been, are there other's like Karen Shaw out there? Now, in chapter two, the reader will finally find out when Karen is transferred to a remote military base where she will be safe from the chaos that has descended upon the United States, indeed the rest of the world. But she may not be as safe as she initially perceives.

Chapter 2

Dusty eddies started to kick up as the helicopter neared the makeshift pad of crumbling concrete crisscrossed with opportunistic weeds.

I shielded my dry red eyes from the windswept stinging grains as a signaler guided it in. While it touched down, the officer came back over.

“I’ve got some good news Hicks,” he said. “Just a few moments ago, I was informed that we are understandably short on personnel where Miss Shaw is headed.”

Hicks screwed up his face a little before being enlightened.

“Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted…Captain Hicks.”

“Thank you sir. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll look after her.”

He gave a firm salute. “Will do sir.”

While I’m sure Hicks thought about the new responsibilities he’d be taking on, a soldier walked over from the helicopter and saluted him.

“At ease,” said Hicks.

The soldier peered at me before his eyes met with Hicks once more. “She’s the asset?” he inquired, as if he’d just been served a meal that didn’t quite resemble the picture of a succulent entrée on a menu.

Hicks nodded and the soldier seemed to shrug off the disappointment he felt borne of my unremarkable disheveled appearance.

I crossed my arms and said, “Since this asset has no choice in the matter, I’d like to get this trip over with ASAP! We’re burning daylight and I’d like to be reunited with my boyfriend sooner rather than later.”

Hicks beamed a wide yet weary smile in response to my feistiness.

The soldier said, “Right this way Miss Shaw.”

“Might as well call me Eve,” I joked as we made our way toward the helicopter.

“I’m sorry?” he wondered, briefly glancing back at me.

He helped me into the helicopter and I shouted over the competing rotor noise. “Never mind. It’s classified. I’d tell you but…Well, you know.”

He simply smiled and nodded, taking his seat on the other side. Hicks sat down next to me and in no time flat, we were cruising through the air.

“God!” I exclaimed. “This place is a dump…literally!” While we passed over the landfill, I looked over to see if Hicks was appreciating any of my humor, but he was as pensive as ever. I decided to make some small talk anyway, just to keep me sane. “Even though I’d rather be going home, I have to admit, this is kind of exciting. I’ve never been a helicopter before.”

“Never would have pegged you for a thrill seeker,” he said, a half smile lighting up his face briefly. “But trust me, the excitement wears off after a while.”

“Hey Miss Shaw?” wondered another soldier sitting on the far side with the man who had been kind enough to help me in.

“Call me Karen. Miss Shaw feels kind of weird.”
“Yes maam…I mean Karen. Are you another scientist being transferred?”

I cut Hicks off just as he opened his mouth. “I’ve got this one,” I said. “I seem to be getting that a lot lately…Look, I can’t tell you much, but what I can tell you is that I’m no scientist. Trust me on that one.”

“Oh,” he said. “Just thought maybe you were a VIP ‘cause you might have knowledge about a cure.”

“It’s called a vaccine dummy, not a cure” said the other soldier.

“Well excuse the hell out of me for hoping someone had the answers to end this damn nightmare.”

He retreated to his corner and pulled out a picture, probably of his girlfriend, given how young he was.

“Hey Hicks?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“My fiancée?”

I nodded. He pulled out a weathered one from his shirt pocket. He said, “I always carry this one with me when I’m on a mission. Good luck I guess.”

“Nice picture,” I said.

“Thanks. It was taken at her sister’s wedding.”

After the brief reminiscence, he frowned as he continued to stare at it. The rest of the short trip was full of silence.

We approached an airstrip and I could see some men scrambling around to get the hose from a tanker truck unhooked from what looked like a C-130 which was presumably our ride. We landed just as the tanker truck pulled away. I was hurried out only moments after we touched down and escorted the short distance across the shimmering tarmac to that impossibly large aircraft.

About three long hours later, we touched down on a runway that was shimmering even more than the one back on the east coast. I followed Hicks once more down the ramp and was greeted by a blast of hot dry air.

“Gee,” I commented as I turned my face toward Hicks. “My surroundings keep getting better and better!” I swear to God, if I couldn’t laugh, I’d cry. I looked around at the barren mountains in the distance rising out of the parched landscape.

Hicks used his hand as a makeshift hat brim and surveyed the desolate landscape. “Better than the landfill,” he said.

“I guess,” I said. “At least it’s a dry heat!”

After forcing a laugh, I shielded my eyes from the glare to get a better look at the vehicle that was heading our way. The approaching jeep slowed and stopped in front of the aircraft’s ramp and an MP got out with such a serious look on his face, that I felt as if he was about to arrest me after going AWOL.

“Sir,” he said, giving Hicks a more cursory salute as if to preserve his strength in this oven we had stepped into. Then he addressed me. “Miss Shaw,” he said in a more subdued tone. “Welcome.”

I found it strange he didn’t announce which base we had arrived at. The way he said it gave me the creeps, for it sounded like he was welcoming us to a funeral home.

“Hop in,” he said. “I know you’re anxious to get into the air conditioning.”

I put on a pair of sunglasses that he handed me and wiped the sweat from my brow as we sped toward the north gate. “Whew!” I said, playing the role of a tourist. “Is it always this hot?”

The MP chuckled. “You’re lucky to have arrived when you did. Today’s a cool day. Enjoy the respite.”

I said to Hicks, “I don’t think all of those guys along the perimeter are enjoying this respite.” Turning my attention back to the MP, I said, “By the way, is there always this much security?”

“No maam,” said the MP. “In light of the emergency confronting our country, it was deemed necessary.”

“But we’re out in the middle of nowhere,” I said. “I think the only things these soldiers will be keeping out are coyotes and the occasional roadrunner.” I looked at Hicks and smiled. “Meep-meep!” I finally managed to coax a genuine smile out of him during this mess, and it made me happier than I thought to see him crack a smile. But it faded during the short time it took for us to reach the gate.

We passed through the gate after a thorough security check involving mirrors, dogs, and scrutinizing double takes of badges, where once again, I was confronted with that curious searching look on the faces of the male guards when the MP showed them my ID. I was also equally curious regarding how quickly my ID had been created, as if I had been a visitor before and they had just pulled it out of a filing cabinet.

The inside of the base was as confusing as it was sprawling. It was like a maze with all of the intersecting corridors. I was escorted down one busy corridor after another where I was confronted with one curious look after another from all of the male personnel. I felt like the last woman on Earth the way they kept staring at me. It was understandable I guess considering that I didn’t see one other woman and because of the scenario playing out in this frightened country of ours far beyond the air conditioned halls and the perimeter of this mystery base I found myself roaming.

Finally, we arrived at a set of windowless double doors, where an older gentleman in a lab coat was waiting to greet us.

“Welcome,” he said, as if I had arrived at the check-in desk of a hotel.

I squinted my eyes while checked his name badge. “Hello…Dr. Brown,” I said with a degree of insincerity in my voice borne of a strange and vague sense of déjá  vu that I was suddenly experiencing.

Dr. Brown nervously cleared his throat as if I had called his bluff at the poker table. “I’m sure you’re understandably curious about why you’re here.”

“Yeah. I suppose,” I said nonchalantly. “I suppose it has something to do with Eve 2.0.”

“Indeed,” he said. He quickly averted his gaze from my searching hawk like eyes and swiped his badge. “After you Miss Shaw. Right this way.”

Dr. Brown continued on, walking backwards as he led me down the hall as if he were a tour guide or something. “Now that everyone has arrived, there will be a briefing later this afternoon where all of your questions will be answered.”

“That’s great,” I began, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “But what I really need more than a briefing is a shower and some sleep if you don’t mind. I don’t know if you know, but I’ve been through quite a lot.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Right,” he said. “I was getting to that. Just follow me and I’ll lead you to your room. I think you will find your accommodations satisfactory.

I followed him in past two more soldiers standing guard and past offices on either side of the narrower hall. We came to a t-intersection after a short walk where I was confronted by another windowless door similar to the one the Dr. had swiped his badge at, only this one had some kind of scanner mounted on the wall adjacent to it.

He motioned for me to make a left down a much wider corridor which gleamed under clean fluorescent lights. I started to hang a left, but I stopped mid turn to get one more look at that expensive looking door.

I inquired, “What exactly is beyond those doors?”

Dodging the question like a politician, he simply said, “All your questions will be answered soon Miss Shaw.”

Arms akimbo, something occurred to me. “Wait a minute? I get it now: the isolated location, all of the security and locked doors. Now I see what’s going on. You’ve got the virus in there, don’t you?” I shook my head even though he remained silent. “Jesus Christ! Did US scientists create the virus and then let it get loose? Wonderful. Just great! Tell them I said thanks.”

Instead of indulging me, he simply motioned with his arm and silently led the way.

I soon forgot about my righteous indignation as he escorted me down the long hall. We passed over a dozen rooms. There were placards affixed to each of the doors and all of the names were female. I felt a chill race down my spine.

Just after we passed by the first room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced back over my shoulder to the sight of an attractive looking younger brunette peering out the door before retreating back in after being confronted with the less than welcoming look of contempt no doubt still etched onto my face.

“Here we are Miss Shaw,” said Dr. Brown. “There are some books and magazines and the like over on the coffee table. If there’s anything you need, just use that phone over by the bed.” He glanced at his watch as if he needed a polite excuse to leave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” I muttered.

The anger surging inside me when I was in his presence started dying down as I surveyed my accommodations, which were a far cry from the mental institution I was using as a pathetic benchmark for comparison.

I quickly became cognizant of the fact that it was irrelevant how nice my room was or how well they were going to treat me. Nothing would change the fact that I instinctively despised Dr. Brown. He was the focal point of all of my anger and frustration, and I’m sure there was a good reason why. I knew that no matter how many pleasantries he uttered or how many comforts of home he provided, I would at best only tolerate his presence.

I let out a deep sigh and found a seat. No sooner had I sat down that I heard a knocking on the door.

“Karen?” asked the young brunette that had caught a glimpse of me earlier.

I leaned back in my chair. “Yeah. I’ve been known to go by that alias from time to time.”

A light and inviting smile brushed across her face while she politely lingered. “May I come in?”

I simply nodded and pointed to the chair across from me. After she rested her delicate frame, I asked, “What’s your name hon?”

“Stephanie.”

“Any aliases?” I wondered, leaning in toward her.

She smiled a knowing smile before speaking. “I prefer to go by Stephanie now. I never did like my old name anyway.”

“Ahh,” I declared. “I had a feeling there were others. So, you’re one of the fortunate few to be a part of Project Eve 2.0.”

She nodded her head. “How much do you know about it?”

“Other than being an end of the world insurance policy, not much I’m afraid.”

“Do you think like they think that maybe we have some kind of immunity to the virus?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Well I hope I’m immune. And I hope you are too just like I hope the other girls are. It’d be a shame to go through everything I’ve gone through, just to um…”

Her voice trailed off. I agreed with her silence. I didn’t want to talk about the grim reaper paying a visit anymore than she did.

She gazed deeply into my eyes before speaking again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Well, I was thinking that perhaps I would have been better off where they first found me: on the streets.”

“You were homeless? God, I’m so sorry. That must have been really hard.”

“It’s okay. Seems like a lifetime ago anyway.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “Not the homeless part. I was very unhappy for different reasons. When I was a junior in college, someone approached me shortly after a transgendered support group I had been going to since my sophomore year. I like can’t even begin to tell you how happy I was when they told me I met all the criteria and qualified for the experimental procedure.”

“Oh. So you wanted to become a woman.”

“For as long as I can remember.” She furrowed her brow before continuing on. “Did you? Have you always felt…different?”

“I shook my head. “I guess I felt okay in my own skin.” I drummed my fingers on my thigh. “Not that I’m complaining about the way I look now, but I wonder why they simply didn’t just choose people like you to perform the experiment on…No offense Stephanie.”

She shrugged her shoulders before replying. “None taken. Guess we’ll like find out soon enough during the briefing.”

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

“Most of the highs and lows; after all, it’s hard to forget something as life changing as what happened to us.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I agreed, choosing wisely to omit all of the gaps in my memory to avoid one of those awkward, ‘oh you poor thing’ looks on her face.

Aside from being indistinguishable from the genetic female population at large, it seemed we had very, very, little in common. I rested my head in my hand and sighed at such a realization. Then, I automatically looked for a window to stare out of during the brief yet awkward silence that ensued; instead, my eyes landed on the plant in the corner.

Seeing that I needed some time alone, she forced a smile and got up. “It was nice meeting you Karen.”

“You too Stephanie. See you at the briefing.”

It was strange watching her leave. Her walk and her mannerisms, not to mention the color of her hair, reminded me of Alice and that made me very sad. I hated not knowing where Alice was or how she was doing as much as I hated being in this air conditioned prison.

I closed the door and collapsed on the couch. I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I would just have to shower later.

When another knock on my door roused me from my slumber, I don’t think there was that much improvement in my mood.

“Miss Shaw?” said a petite woman in scrubs.

“Come back later,” I said. “I’m still sleeping.”

“Sorry to bother you dear,” she said in the most soothing voice. “I just stopped by to let you know it’s four o’ clock and the briefing is in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I looked at the clock radio and scoffed. I realized that four thirty really didn’t mean that much to me since I still wasn’t sure exactly what time zone I was in. It felt later, and since I had that feeling where you know you’re not going to be able to get back to sleep, I forced myself out of bed and I walked into the surprisingly spacious bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I braced myself on the sink and let out a groan as I gazed at my reflection. I was in my mid-forties, but this time I really looked it for a change; now it was time to do something about that.

I had just finished getting dressed after taking one of the longest and most luxurious showers of my life when there was light rapping on the door. But instead of a soothing female voice, there was the gruff voice of a soldier.

“Briefing’s in five minutes Miss Shaw.”

“Coming,” I said. “Just give me a sec.”

I stepped outside and was escorted once more. I didn’t see any of the other women in the hallway; apparently, I was going to be the tardy one of the bunch. But I didn’t feel bad about it. Everyone had waited years to learn the truth, including me. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill them.

There was a lot of murmuring as I entered the conference room. I was keenly aware that all eyes were upon me. I’m sure they immediately recognized I was one of them by the plain clothes I had on: khakis and a white blouse.

It kind of felt like my first day of school as I searched for my only acquaintance and found a seat next to her. Stephanie greeted me with a smile before turning her attention back to the front of the room. I did as well, for there was one of those large screens like in a college classroom that had already been lowered. The projector above the first row of seats hummed away while it warmed up.

I turned my attention back to the women in the room and started counting. And then I counted again.

“Sixteen of us,” whispered Stephanie, like a college student during a lecture.

“Yep,” I agreed. “Sweet sixteen.” I couldn’t help but manage a smile.

The smile ran away from my face when that man strode in like a college professor and assumed his place in front of the lectern. “Good afternoon,” said Dr. Brown, his voice resonating in the chilly air. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

I looked over and noticed one of the more butch women sitting with her arms crossed. She shot him a withering stare before speaking in a southern drawl. “It’s about time. I’m tired of the run around. I heard tell of Project Eve after ya’ll scooped my ass off the street. What the hell is going on exactly?”

“Please,” said Dr. Brown with strained composure. “I’ll be more than happy to take all of your questions at the end of the presentation.” The murmuring subsided after he pressed his clicker and the title slide appeared. In bold pink letters, it read, “Project Eve 2.0.”

He began with a typical rhetorical question. “So what is Project Eve 2.0? To put it simply, you are. Ten years ago, the CIA received credible intelligence of a potential bioterrorist threat. It was learned that terrorists were enlisting the help of geneticists, virologists, and biologists to do the unthinkable: create and unleash a virus worse than aids, worse than ebola, worse than anything human kind has ever been exposed to in recorded history. Now, unfortunately, you and everyone else around the world know exactly what virus I’m talking about, a virus that targets just half of the population.” He cleared his throat and then continued on. “Five years ago, when it was realized that there was a strong enough possibility that the virus would be unleashed, the United States government assembled an international team of scientists to search for a defense. I am, as you no doubt have surmised, a member of this team. It became apparent early on that we had a problem on our hands. You see, we could never get our hands on a sample of the virus in order to develop a vaccine, so instead of pursuing the vaccine avenue, we came up with an ingenious solution. You are that solution borne of the team’s tireless efforts.” He flipped to the next slide. “This is the simplified version of how it works. Instead of inserting an additional X chromosome into the nucleus of each cell, a method was devised to transform the Y chromosome that each male cell carries into a kind of makeshift X chromosome, more or less, all the details of which are far too complicated to go into here…As you can see on the next slide, this genetic material is delivered via a modified virus and attached to the Y chromosome. Now one of the downsides of the procedure is that it has to be tailored to each individual’s unique genetic makeup, which is further complicated by the fact that not every male’s cellular makeup meets the general criteria for successful insertion of the virus. Thus, it is extremely expensive. Now you understand why there are only sixteen of you. The process of converting all of the millions of male cells in an individual’s body into female cells, and the accompanying physical changes that manifest themselves, i.e. a second puberty so to speak, takes anywhere from fourteen to eighteen months, assuming the procedure takes.”

“Assuming?” said the butch woman with quiet outrage. “Wait a minute now. What happens if the procedure doesn’t take?”

Dr. Brown frowned at his little slip that opened the door at such an early juncture. “Perhaps it’s best for me to wait until the end of the presentation to answer that.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“No,” said the woman defiantly. “I want to know now. She looked around at all of the questioning eyes and scared faces before fixing her eyes on him once more. “We want to know now. Right girls?”

Dr. Brown’s weary face was confronted with nodding heads all around the room. “Alright,” he relented. “I’m afraid there’s no way to sugar coat it. They…uh…most of them died later on.”

“How?” I asked.

“Cancer,” he said in a dispassionate tone. “That’s how the rejection manifested itself. But I can tell you they didn’t suffer.”

“Some consolation,” scoffed Stephanie.

“So basically,” I said, “We were God damned guinea pigs.”

“No,” said Dr. Brown quietly. “Guinea pigs don’t give consent. You all did.”

“I don’t remember giving consent,” asserted a pretty redhead.

“Me neither,” said another woman.

“I sure as hell don’t remember either,” said the butch woman.

“Yeah,” I chimed in. “What’s up with that?”

Aware that he had just fallen victim to the best laid plans, Dr. Brown just succumbed to the tide of outrage sweeping over him. “Look, there’s a reason some of you don’t remember. It’s not faulty recall do to the procedure. Depending on your circumstances, in the interests of national security, it was deemed necessary to administer to some of you a class of drugs originally developed to treat PTSD that inhibit recall.”

I think everyone collectively rolled their eyes when he mentioned national security, which was soon followed by louder murmuring.

“Once again,” he said. “You all gave consent. I know you don’t remember and think I’m lying to you now, but we didn’t administer the memory inhibitors without fully explaining the situation and obtaining your permission. In addition to the video interviews on disc, all of your consent forms and waivers are on file and freely available if you’d like to peruse them after the briefing.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just keep us at a government facility?”

“First of all, you weren’t prisoners. For all we knew, this attack might occur the next year, or ten years later…or never. All we knew was that there was a significant probability that warranted the actions we took. It was decided early on that you deserved some fair compensation, some semblance of a normal life.”

“Normal life?” I said with acid dripping from each word. “I ended up in a God damned mental hospital for almost a year. But I guess I should count my blessings. At least I was more fortunate than the woman who threw herself in front of that bus.”

Stephanie turned to me and whispered, “Suicide? Oh my God! Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty damn sure. Just ask him.”

“That poor thing,” whispered another woman behind us.

One of the more mousy women spoke up just after everyone bowed their heads ever so slightly upon hearing of another victim on the front lines of the terrible war that was being fought. “J…J…Jesus. Su…su…suicide? How…How…m…m…many…” She paused a few seconds as much out of frustration as embarrassment I presume.

Dr. Brown bit his lip and stared at something on the back wall for a few moments before he spoke again. “I’m not at liberty to say, because honestly I don’t know. I didn’t ask. The project psychologists should know. You’ve already met one of them. I’m sure you all remember Dr. Donovan…Continuing on, now that we’ve gotten a good deal of the unpleasantness out of the way, please allow me to say a few more words before I take the rest of your questions.” Doing a cursory scan to make sure he did indeed have the floor, he continued on in a weary tone. “Later on this evening, the nurses are going to take some blood and tissue samples. We need to determine if you all have any immunity to the virus.” Anticipating the next logical question, he said, “And if you don’t, at least we’ll have a way to create enough women of breeding age to ensure the continuity of the human species when we finally develop a vaccine; after all, that’s the goal of this project: to prevent our extinction.”

“But what happens if you don’t have any immunity?” I wondered.

“Let me assure you that each and every one of you will be kept safe while a vaccine is developed if it is discovered that you don’t have any immunity. But I for one do hold out hope that you will have some kind of immunity.”

“Kept safe?” wondered one woman. “Kept prisoner is more like it,” she declared in a barely audible whisper.

I turned to Stephanie and frowned. “So much for getting out of here any time soon.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But I’m not sure I would really want to. I’m really scared.”

I grasped her hand. “Me too hon. Me too. But be strong. We’ll get through this.” But I’m not sure who I was trying to convince, her or myself.

After Dr. Brown let the enormity of what had been said sink in, he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “I think it’s time I turn things over to Dr. Donovan. She is more than ready to answer any remaining questions you may have.”

“Gee,” I whispered to Stephanie. “Just what we need, another shrink.”

“First of all,” said Dr. Donovan matter-of-factly in response to my barely veiled comment, “anyone who wishes to leave can leave now. Attendance is not mandatory; however, I feel it is in the best interests of your well being to stay and listen to what I have to say.”

She scanned the room noting which eyes were compliant and which weren’t before her eyes landed on me for only a split second. So I’m sure it came as no surprise when I got up and quietly stalked out of the room. I had heard enough. There was nothing more that could be said that was going to be able to set my mind at ease.

I gave a half wave to the other three women in the treatment room as I entered it, and they reciprocated with a half smile. I took my seat in the burgundy feaux leather chair and cradled my head in my hand.

“God this sucks,” I muttered.

I would have stared out a window to distract myself from the squeamish feeling in the pit of my stomach; however, my eyes landed on one of those ubiquitous Monet paintings, whose beauty was completely lost on me. At least the nurse was genuinely nice.

“Hello Karen,” said the thirty something woman. “My name’s Susan and I’ll be taking care of you.”

Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, like out of a dream. There was just something familiar about that soothing Boston accent.

Susan said, “I just need you to rest your forearm and place it elbow side down if you would please dear. I promise you I’ll be very quick and make this as painless as possible.”

“Sure,” I said, almost automatically. There was this implicit sense of trust almost as strong as that between Alice and I. “Do I know you? It’s just that I have the strangest feeling of déjá  vu.”

She simply smiled the most calming smile, easing the anxious beating of my heart at the sight of the needle that had just come into view. After giving me some reassurance, she slipped an elastic band around my arm and tightened it until it was borderline uncomfortable.

I instinctively winced and turned away as she brought the needle closer. God I was getting tired of needles! Tears started welling up and stung my dry and bloodshot eyes. But before a tear had a chance to trace its way down my makeup free face, Susan was loosening the elastic band.

“Wow!” I said, looking at the band-aid. “You’re fast.”

She smiled that smile again followed by a wink.

“Is that it?” I wondered.

“Mmm hmm,” she said. “For now.” She placed the vial in a small container.

“Now what?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“Now we wait and pray for the best.”

That evening, I understandably fell asleep early, but I didn’t stay asleep for long, for I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed Alice was on the ledge of the last story of a tall building. Her calm face was nearly the color of the fresh coating of snow she was precariously standing on. I immediately started running toward her and yelled. “Don’t do it! Please don’t jump!” I cried. But it was like I was in slow motion. She looked at me and smiled before saying, “It’s okay Karen. Everything will be okay.” Then, she closed her eyes and gracefully dove off. Suddenly, I could run again as if freed from the temporal molasses I had been stuck in. I ran to the edge, but I awoke just before reaching the ledge, before I could see her limp body on the pristine snow covered street below in the deserted city of my dream.

I was soaked in sweat and sobbing uncontrollably upon waking. I felt disoriented in the darkness. I brought my knees in close to my body and began rocking myself on the bed, soothing myself like when I was a child. The simple reflexive act really seemed to help. I quickly became cognizant of my surroundings again and got my crying under control.

I felt that what I needed was some reassurance from my boyfriend followed by some cuddling and perhaps some chamomile tea; for now, I’d just have to settle for the company of a friend. It was an easy choice among the fifteen sympathetic ears up and down the hallway because as they say, proximity breeds friendship.

I gently knocked on Stephanie’s door. The meager amount of light seeping out from under the door brightened. Then the door opened slowly and quietly.

“Having trouble sleeping too?” inquired Stephanie.

I simply nodded.

“Well come on in. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Thanks.”

“Want some water? I don’t know about you, but like I’m really parched.”

“Please,” I said in a raspy voice.

She walked over to the small water cooler and poured us a couple of cups.

“Here you are,” she said.

“Thanks.”

While I studied the floor for a few moments, she asked, “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, still averting my gaze.

“This place will like do it to you…Hey Karen? Do like think that once they’re finished with all of the testing and stuff, that we’ll be transferred to a nicer place than this?”

“I dunno. Maybe. But somehow I doubt it. I suspect that for everything they’ve told us about the project, they’re probably holding back at least twice as much. Even if we do get out, I mean what’s the point? It’s not like there’s some kind of normal life waiting for us out there anymore. That ship has sailed.”

“I guess you’re right, but I hope you’re wrong. Still, I wouldn’t even know how to begin picking up the pieces.” She looked thoughtful for a few moments while I continued to sip on my water. “Have you got anyone waiting for you on the outside?”

“A boyfriend,” I said quietly. “I’m sure he’s probably worried sick by now. They told me they’d contact him, but who knows if they’re telling the truth or not.” I shook my head before venting some more of my frustration. “After hearing so many lies, I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I’m sick of this shit and I want to get the hell out of this place.”

“I know how you feel. I’m like going stir crazy around here.”

“I’ll tell you Stephanie, somehow, and some way, I need to find my way home, back to Baltimore. I’ve just got to find him and set his mind at ease. And I’ve got to find my friend Alice. I need to find out if she’s alive or…” My voice trailed off as images from my dream worked their way to the surface. “People need to know what’s going on here. The public deserves to know”

“So, like what should we do?”

I shook my head and stared through the clear liquid like an alcoholic seeking solace in the bottom of a shot glass. Then I leaned in towards her and whispered. “There’s someone who might be able to help. It’s a long shot, but I have a feeling we can trust him. We just need to find a way to contact him.”

In an equally cautious tone of voice, she suggested, “What about Susan? I don’t know about you, but I like get this feeling that like she’s about as fed up with this project as all of us.”

“Maybe. I know Donovan sure as hell doesn’t care. I don’t trust that woman any farther than I can throw her skinny butt.”

“So who is it going to be? Do you want to try and talk to her, or like should I?”

“Well, I do get this feeling that we go back a ways, that she knows me pretty well, which means all I need to do is find the right time to talk to her.”

“How about this: you could slip her a note.”

“That might work, but if she talks then…”

“Seems to me like it’s worth the risk. This may be like the only opportunity that we get.”

“Possibly.”

Stephanie managed a wry smile. “After all, like what can they like do to us? Lock us up?”

We both managed a laugh at the depressing truth.

“Alright,” I said. “What the hell. Let’s do it!”

Stephanie looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Do you think like we should tell the other girls about what we’re doing?”

I furrowed my brow and shook my head. “No. Definitely not.” I motioned with my paranoid eyes to the ceiling a couple of times.

It finally dawned on Stephanie. “Ohh. Right. I didn’t think of that, but you’re probably right…Okay Karen, here’s like what I think we should do. I’ll go ahead and write the note and hand it to her. I’ve like been known to write a persuasive argument or two now and then.”

“Better you than me,” I said with a smile.

“Good. Now all I need you to do is to give me the name of the person you feel we can trust.”

I “accidentally” dropped my cup on the floor and knelt down to pick it up.

“I’ll get a paper towel,” said Stephanie.

She kneeled down by my side to help, during which time, I whispered, “Captain Hicks. That’s the guy I was telling you about.”

She acknowledged me with a most subtle nod of her head. After she did, I rose up and smiled. In a loud voice with deliberate annunciation intended for public consumption, I said, “Thanks Stephanie for being up and talking to me for a while.”

“Any time Karen. Any time. Good night.”

I headed to my room, clinging to my new found shred of hope.

A few days later…It was déjá  vu all over again as I sat in the treatment room. I scanned the room and then looked at the clock on the wall. I kept waiting for a couple of girls to come shuffling in at the last minute and fill the two empty chairs in the sterile room, but only nurse Susan came walking in.

I turned to her and smiled, but my gesture seemed to be lost on her. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning something of weighty importance on the screen of the tablet computer she was holding. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be good news because a somber expression overshadowed her normally calm demeanor. The somber expression evolved into one of worry, sending a chill down my spine.

She set the tablet down and the glow emanating from it was replaced by the glow of her labored smile.

“Good afternoon Karen,” she said.

“Afternoon,” I said, noting every ounce of barely veiled tension on her face. I looked around once more. “So where are the other girls today? Don’t tell me you gave them the day off. If you did, I’m going to be very jealous.” I crossed my arms in mock offense.

She let out a nervous laugh before shaking her head. “I was told they were transferred.”

“Why’s that?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“Dr. Brown’s orders.”

“Okay. But where to?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Not at liberty to say? You mean you don’t know.”

“Karen, please. Don’t ask me any more questions,” she said with strained composure. “I’m very busy today and I know you want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

Great! Now she was starting to sound like Dr. Brown, and for a split second, I wondered if I could trust her. “Right,” I said. “Assume the position. I know the drill.”

I looked away as she drew some more blood.

Afterwards, I scrutinized her every move. Today, it seemed, she was going through the motions like some kind of automaton. She had this drained expression on her face characteristic of the soldier that has been on the front lines for far too long, finally losing that last shred of innocent naivety. Her burden seemed almost as weighty as Alice’s, and I realized now was the moment of opportunity in light of how conflicted she appeared to be.

“Whoa!” I said as I stood up, feigning dizziness. “Maybe I stood up a little too quick.”

She rushed over and I made sure to deliver an Oscar worthy performance. I stumbled into her like a drunk.

“It’s okay Karen. I’ve got you hon.”

While she had both arms wrapped around me, I kept my left hand braced on the arm of the chair, and with my free hand, I placed the note in her left pocket. I fought hard to suppress a smile at my impromptu ingenuity while she helped ease me into my chair.

“You just rest for a bit Karen. Okay?”

I nodded. Glancing at the container carrying the vial of blood that was now out of sight and out of mind, I said, “I don’t know what happened. Must have caught a glimpse of my own blood.”

“Looks like we can cross nursing off the list of possible second careers for you.”

We both smiled.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t I go ahead and run this over to the lab. Then I’ll walk you back to your room. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

When she returned about ten minutes later, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine now.”

“Good. Now go ahead and slowly stand up for me, but if you feel dizzy in the slightest at any time, just let me know.”

“So far so good,” I said, lifting myself up out of the chair.

We didn’t talk much as she escorted me down the hall. The awkward silence lingered as we stood in front of my door. Almost without thinking, I leaned in and gave her a hug. I replied to her searching eyes with a smile. “You just looked like you needed one.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m not so sure if I’m that deserving of a hug right now.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know you’re a good person just like my good friend Alice. If I was in a bind, I know you’d come through for me.”

She opened her mouth as if to confess something; instead, she averted her gaze briefly before turning away. The slow clicking of her heels faded after she disappeared down a corridor that led to a door that I was denied access to.

All I could do was wait. I nervously waited in my room all by myself as seconds ticked by like minutes. I knew there were two possibilities: she had read the note, torn it up, and decided in the interests of self preservation that silence was the best response, or somehow she had gotten word to Hicks to enlist his help. Maybe they were formulating a plan as I waited, or maybe they’d been caught. Now I was really starting to get paranoid. Perhaps the whole conspiracy had been nipped in the bud because Big Brother was watching. I shuddered as I thought of what the repercussions might be, not for me, but for them.

Tired of pacing around my room after over twenty-four hours of nearly sleepless waiting, I picked up the phone. I was pretty sure it was an act of futility, but I needed some kind of distraction, and bitching someone out would perhaps relieve some of my tension.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked, my voice surging into shrill territory as intensely as the blood was surging in my hot veins. “No. No. No! I’m tired of being given the run around. I’m tired of this crap! I don’t want to hear we’re working on it, or he’s very busy, or call back later! I’m a Goddamned citizen of this country and I have rights that shouldn’t just be swept aside because of the tired old national security argument.” After composing myself for a few moments, in a gentler tone, I said, “Please, just do me a favor. Just give me an outside line. How hard is that? Huh? I mean honestly, it’s not like I’m going to compromise national security. I don’t even know which time zone I’m in. All I want to do is tell my boyfriend that I’m alive and well, that I’m safe and he doesn’t need to worry. That’s it…Uh huh…Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be…Thanks for your help!” I shouted into the receiver before slamming it down.

Now I was all worked up. The adrenaline was really surging and I just couldn’t get my breathing under control. I hadn’t felt this angry since I had testosterone flowing through my body.

“I hate this fucking place!” I stomped over to the corner. “I hate this stupid fake ficus.” I kicked it and searched for something else to bear the brunt of my surplus rage. “I hate this painting! I hate these walls! And…And…” I glanced down. “I hate these clothes. I look like a fucking mental patient.”

After my little episode of “sound and fury signifying nothing,” I finally settled down and forced a laugh. I realized my rage was as righteous and necessary as it was impotent. I think that’s why I gave the finger to the imagined location of the camera that I was sure was in the room.

I sighed before lying down on the bed face down like a grounded and bored teenager. It took me a while, but my warm rage finally subsided and I finally got my breathing and heart rate back to normal.

I dragged my cool and defeated body out of bed and moseyed on down the hall. I figured maybe I’d shoot the shit with Stephanie for a while.

“What the hell?” I wondered. I was confronted with an empty room that should have had a sullen occupant whose face perhaps would light up a little at the sight of her older friend. I scanned her door, but her name tag was gone, just like the others.

“Great,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Twelve down and only four more to go.

I felt like I was in Nazi Germany. They had probably grabbed her when I was having my blood drawn and I had this feeling that maybe they’d come for me in the night. Perhaps they’d come tonight and do God only knows what else to this consenting Guinea Pig.

I returned to my room and sunk in my chair, thoroughly dejected. I hadn’t felt this frightened or scared since that morning when I first woke up as a woman. It didn’t seem that there was going to be any help coming to rescue this damsel in distress.

When I came to that realization, it was late afternoon and I was exhausted. I lost the battle and drifted off to sleep.

A gentle tapping on my shoulder roused me from my slumber.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s you Susan.”

“Thought I’d check on you to see how you’re feeling.”

“Thanks. That was nice of you.”

“I brought your dinner as well since I was in the neighborhood.” She motioned with her head toward the coffee table.

“Thanks, but I’m not very hungry right now.”

“Make sure you eat,” she quietly insisted. “It’s important that you keep your strength up. You’ll need it.” The way she emphasized the words of that sentence sent a chill down my spine. Next, she glanced over at the water cooler. “And make sure you stay hydrated. It’s easy to build up a deficit as dry as it is in here, nearly as dry as it is out in that heat.” She motioned with her eyes toward the exterior wall.

I furrowed my brow. It didn’t take a woman’s intuition to figure out that something was about to go down. The way she emphasized the phrase “you’ll need it” and the word “heat,” stirred my blood with hopeful anticipation.

She smiled as I digested what she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the little girl’s room before I leave. I don’t seem to be feeling very well as of late.”

The bathroom door closed, and I lifted the top off the warm tray sitting on the coffee table. I thought back on her earlier comments. Then, I reluctantly dug in and ate the mashed potatoes, ambivalent about the dry meat loaf next to them.

When the door opened, I was sipping on my second cup of water. Susan walked over.

“I left the fan on.” Then she advised, “Don’t go in there for a while.” I found it strange that there wasn’t any hint of veiled embarrassment on her face. She turned to walk out, but she lingered for a bit. “I almost forgot. I know how much you like the meat loaf around here. Here’s some salt and pepper packets as well as some ketchup.”

I reached to grab them from her outstretched hand. As I did so, a couple of packets slipped out of her hand.

I said, “Let me help you with those.” I bent down until my head was level with hers.

She whispered, “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me. Good luck Karen.” Before I could thank her, she stood up, smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Clumsy me. Must be Carpel Tunnel syndrome. Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, wondering if this was the last pleasantry we were going to exchange.

I forced myself to slowly eat my food, all the while trying not to look suspicious by constantly staring at the bathroom door. But the fan on the other side was beckoning me.

I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I was afraid that one move or gesture would tip off the eyes on the other side of the camera in the room, whose existence Susan confirmed with her subtle and cautious behavior. I knew I had to be equally cautious; in fact, I was so cautious that I waited until I felt the urge to go after downing my third cup of water like a shot. I erred on the side of being a poor actor.

I leisurely shuffled in and turned off the fan. Before I sat down, I noticed only the cardboard cylinder remained on the toilet paper holder, which was very odd considering I recalled there being a fair amount after my last visit.

It was now obvious that Susan had gone in to leave something other than the usual deposit, but where was it? What was it? I didn’t see anything after a cursory inspection.

I reached for the roll on top of the tank. A glimmer from the shadowy cylinder caught my eye. I stole a glance. It looked like a needle, but it was wrapped in something. I angled the roll and placed my hand on the bottom to prevent the item from slipping out. With my other hand, I grasped the other end and was very careful to let it slide out into my right hand. Since old tricks are usually the best tricks, I “let” the roll slip out of my hand. I picked it up, and while I did, I slipped the item into my pocket.

I breathed a double sigh of relief when I was finally able to sit down.

Now that I had found what she wanted me to find, I pondered what role this small item could possibly play in my grand escape.

Afraid to go back into the bathroom to get a better look at it for fear of a possible camera, I just sat nervously waiting for the right time, and right before bed seemed like the right time.
I usually read a little in bed to help me get sleepy, so I grabbed a book along with one of those LED book lights they were kind enough to provide me with and slipped under the covers.

I pretended to read for a while before I felt the ruse was being bought. Then, I fished out the needle from under the covers. After pretending to scratch my leg, I scratched my curiosity when I gently held it against the page with my left thumb. The dim yet revealing light didn’t show any volume ticks on the syringe. It appeared to be wrapped in ordinary paper, joined in the middle by a piece of scotch tape, apparent only when my finger glided over the area like a smooth speed bump on the otherwise rough paper.

I brought my knees closer to my chest and placed the book on my lap. After carefully removing the tape, I unrolled the crisp paper and leaned in closer to resolve letters that were slightly smaller than those on the pages of the book. I may have been able to just barely resolve the letters, but I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the sentences.

“Is she kidding?” I muttered.

I crumpled up the paper and placed it, along with the syringe, back in my pocket. Then, I set my book down and turned off the LED.

I placed my hands behind my head for a while, thinking through the risky first step of the plan. The thought of injecting myself made my heart race and my stomach churn, but then again, the thought of suffering the mysterious fate of the other women made my heart race as well; thus, it wasn’t too long until desperation won out over the uncertainty of the outcome and solved the dilemma for me.

Even though there was close to zero probability that I might drift off, I sat in the chair anyway. I wasn’t going to take any chances. I only had one shot at this. We only had one shot at this: Hicks, Susan, and I.

After an interminable wait, the appointed hour of 12:30am came. I slipped back under the covers once more and fought back tears as the needle tore a hole. I depressed the plunger. I barely managed to stuff the evidence between the mattress and box spring before I blacked out. I was floating in the darkness once more.

To Be Continued...

If you enjoyed my story, please leave a kudo or feel free to comment. Comments, no matter how brief, are very much appreciated. Also, I welcome any constructive criticism to help improve my writing. So don't be shy! Feel free to send me a PM with your ideas and suggestions.~Drew

Karen Shaw ponders whether it's worth the risk to try escaping from captivity at the isolated desert military base. But she can't do it alone. Will she find sympathetic allies who wish to blow the whistle on Project Eve 2.0? She isn't certain. But what she is certain of, is that if she remains at the base her welfare will be endangered.

The last time I awoke after blacking out, it was dark and my head was pounding; this time, I was cold and shivering under a bright light that overwhelmed the details of my surroundings.

“Karen?” wondered a male voice. “Can you hear me?”

“Where am I?” I asked, my teeth chattering. “Am I dead?”

“Far from it,” he reassured.

Now I recognized the voice. It was Hicks! I slowly rose to a sitting position. The warm blanket that was draped over me slid its way down my chest. I clutched it closer to my body with one hand just before my nipple was exposed to everyone in the room, which turned out to be just Hicks. With my other hand braced on the cold hard surface, I looked around. About five feet in front of me, there was an open square metal door with darkness beyond. The door was just one of many to my left and right in this row just a few feet off the ground.

“Jesus Christ! Am I in the morgue?”

Hicks nodded his head. “It was the only way to get you out. I’m sure it’s all coming back to you
now. The compound in the needle slowed your vitals to the point of being undetectable. But Susan assured me you’ll be fine. The grogginess should wear off soon…so I’ve been told…Here,” he said. “Put these on.” He handed me some army fatigues.

I looked at the name tag on the shirt. “Who’s this Wilson guy?”

“Someone very close to your size. Now hurry up and put them on. We don’t have much time.”

He turned around to give me some privacy as well as to keep an eye on the door no doubt. By the
time I was lacing up my boots, the rush of adrenaline at the thought of someone bursting through that door at any time had warmed me up quite a bit.

Teeth no longer chattering, I asked, “So where is Wilson?”

Hicks turned around and rushed over. “Having a nice nap in a closet somewhere.” He studied my face for a bit. Then he frowned and bit his lip while he dug around in his pocket. “Sorry about this next part.”

“Oh man,” I whined. “Not my hair!” I sighed as he handed me the clippers. “No. No. I can’t. You do it Hicks.”

I stared vacantly ahead while I was shorn like a sheep.

Once the buzzing abruptly ended and the last lock of hair hit the tile, I stood up on rubbery legs. I ran my fingers along my cool scalp from my forehead to my neck. I winced as my finger traced over a bump.

I pulled my hand away from the soreness and inspected my right index finger. There was a spot of blood on it. “Jeez,” I began. “Next time try and be more careful.”

“That wasn’t from the clippers.”

“Then what’s it from?”

“I’ll tell you in just a sec. There’s just one more thing we need to complete your new look.” He grinned as he pulled out a beard and mustache from his other pocket.

“So tell me, what’s up with the bump on my neck?”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, applying the adhesive to my upper lip and chin. “It was a subcutaneous tracking chip. I removed it while you were still under.”

“Son of a bitch!” I declared, pounding my right fist into my left hand. “They were keeping tabs on me the whole time. I should have known.”

“Good thing Susan knew about it; otherwise we wouldn’t get very far…There,” he declared with some satisfaction, firmly pressing the slick backing of the hair against my flushed face. “Not bad.” He nodded his head. “I think you can definitely pull this off. You make a better guy than I thought you would. You should see yourself,” he said with a chuckle.

“No thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”

He checked his watch. “Come on. Follow me…Wilson,” he uttered with a chuckle. “Just let me do all of the talking. The less you say the better.” He glanced back just before we hit the doors. With a half smile, he said, “And watch yourself. Try not to walk like a girl.”

“Yes sir,” I said with a mock salute. In response to his furrowed brow, I asked, “What is it? Was my voice too high?”

“Uh…No. Actually, it was fairly passable.” He shook off being weirded out a little. “It’s just strange hearing it coming from you.” He motioned with his head, and we were on our way.

I followed him through the doors and up the stairs to the ground floor. Once again, I had no idea where I was, and Hicks led me down one corridor after another like when I first arrived. I noted that either he was remarkably calm, or he was very good at hiding his nervousness.

While he was hiding his nervousness, I was hiding who I was by being all the man I could be. I felt stiff as a board while I walked, reminding myself every step of the way to keep my arms by my side. My heart rate skyrocketed every time we approached an intersection, for I imagined capture around every corner.

Approaching the end of a particularly wide corridor, Hicks whispered, “Keep nodding like I’m giving you orders.” Hicks opened the door and we were greeted by a blast of very warm air which I would have gladly welcomed shortly after coming back from the dead. But now that I was sweating bullets like during a hot flash, all I wanted to do was take off the thick shirt I was rapidly sweating out.

The guards saluted Hicks and he saluted back. I think they took about as much notice of me as I did of them, keeping my eyes down the way I did, like I was trying to sneak out of a store in the mall to avoid an awkward encounter with my ex.

Just after we descended the stairs, he made a sweeping motion with his arm and I just kept nodding away even after we were well out of earshot of the guards. Then we made our way down the walkway toward a waiting jeep.

After surreptitiously glancing to either side, Hicks said, “That was easier than I thought. Now comes the more difficult part, getting to the foothills of the mountains to the northeast before they discover you’re missing.”

“Thank goodness we don’t have to walk,” I said.

Hicks flashed me a knowing smile. “What?” I wondered.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, before turning his attention to the man getting out of the jeep.

“Sir!” said the MP.

“At ease,” said Hicks in a weary tone. He motioned for me to get in the back and I quietly did so with head bowed.

Taking a seat as well, Hicks asked, “Did you bring everything I asked for?”

“Yes sir,” said the MP. He motioned with his head. “It’s all in the back.”

“Good,” he replied. “Take us to the strip.”

Once the jeep was up to speed and the airport was slowly coming into view, the MP asked, “Sir? May I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” replied Hicks, staring off into the distance. “What’s up with all of the survival gear? You said just to drive you to the landing strip.”

“It’s for a very important mission. As risky as it is classified.”

The driver mulled that over while we easily cleared the east gate after some more quick salutes. After we cleared the gate, we passed by another jeep headed in the opposite direction. Everyone remained silent for a while as the other jeep’s lights faded in the distance.

The MP asked, “What does this mission entail sir?”

“You’re about to find out soon,” said Hicks. Just then, Hicks reached over and snatched the soldier’s side arm as fast as a hawk snatching its prey. “Sorry son, but unfortunately, you’re going to be a part of our mission for a little while. Now cut the lights, make a left, and head north.”

“Sir?” he wondered, recovering from his initial shock. “There’s nothing out there. Plus there’s no moon. I won’t be able to see squat sir.”

“No problem. Remember the motto of the boyscouts?” Without taking his eyes off his captive, Hicks handed me a case with his free hand. “Open that Wilson and give the contents to him.”

“Are these,” I began.

“Yep,” said Hicks.

“Cool,” I said, admiring the high-tech gear in front of me. I handed the driver the night vision goggles and they whirred to life like a charging camera flash when he reluctantly put them on.

The driver opened his mouth as it to utter another lame protest, but Hicks immediately cut him off. “Just shut up and drive. Don’t do anything stupid and you’ll make it through this ordeal just fine.”

The man wordlessly obeyed. He killed the lights and we tore through the hot and dusty darkness.

All there was was hot wind and silence as the jeep hummed away a soothing monotone as we bounced our way over the hard pack.

Every so often, Hicks would glance at his compass to make sure we were on the right heading. Turn the wheel a few degrees to the right, he would say, or straighten up and speed up a little. Every time the driver asked how much farther, Hicks would simply say “keep driving.”

I must admit, it was exhilarating as it was terrifying speeding toward those darker humps above the darker ground.

After about thirty minutes, Hicks spoke again, drawing my eyes away from the captivating sight of the multitude of stars above, the likes of which I had never seen.

His eyes still fixated on the driver as much as mine had been on the starscape moments earlier, he ordered the driver to stop. “This is far enough.” Shining a flashlight on the driver’s hands, he continued on. “I want you to slowly take your hands off the wheel and remove your goggles and set them on the dash…Good. Now step out of the vehicle and remember to do it slowly with your hands above your head. Stay right there.”

“What about me?” I wondered, forgetting myself.

“Just stay put,” advised Hicks. “I’ll handle this.”

“You’re a woman?” wondered the driver in disbelief, while Hicks made his way around the front of the vehicle. “Why would you want to leave the base? Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what it’s like out there?”

“Enough!” ordered Hicks. He scanned the parched ground that lie ahead with his light. “Turn to the left about forty-five degrees and walk until I say stop.” After about fifteen feet, Hicks ordered him to stop. “Get down on your knees.”

“You’re crazy!” shouted the driver, turning his head back toward me. “You’re both crazy and you won’t get very far. They’re going to find you and they’re…”

The driver’s threats ended as abruptly as he hit the ground with a muffled thud.

Hicks made his way back to the vehicle and I rushed over and met him nearly half way. Glancing over his shoulder, I asked, “What’d you do that for? We’re out in the middle of nowhere. What if a rattlesnake gets him?”

“Don’t worry Karen,” he reassured. “He’ll be fine. Now go ahead and hand me one of those packs.” I wordlessly obeyed much like the soldier. I handed it him. “Give me some light,” he said, handing me a flashlight. He dug around in the pack and pulled out a few items, including a canteen and a map. No sooner had he dumped them on the ground, then he said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I hopped back in the jeep, sitting next to him up front. He put on the night-vision goggles and handed me the compass. “You can be my navigator,” he said. He put the jeep into gear and more dust kicked up as we sped away.

I glanced to my left briefly, thinking about the man we had left behind. “You know, you telling me that he’ll be okay really doesn’t make me feel that much better about the situation.”

To which he replied, “It’s not like you were the one pointing the gun at him or who knocked him out.”

“I know. I know. I’m just beginning to have second thoughts is all.”

“Yeah. Me too,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Just let me know if you want to head back.”

A short time later, I joked, “Now that we’ve passed the point of no returns, how much farther?”

“About another twenty-eight to thirty miles.”

“Wow! How long will that take?”

“The terrain is just going to start getting rougher from here on out. I’m going to have to ease back here shortly, so I’d say two…two and a half hours at most. We should make it to the foothills before dawn. From there, we’ll have to go on foot.”

“Go where?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Just take a deep breath and relax. I really need to concentrate right now, plus we really need to keep the talking to a minimum. We need to keep moisture loss to a minimum.”

I nodded my head and sought solace in the glow from the compass. I knew we weren’t out of danger yet, but somehow I felt everything would turn out alright. Hicks’ calm and matter of fact nature had me feeling very safe at the moment, just like when I was a kid and my dad was at the wheel on the dark interstate driving my mom and I home.

Aside from keeping the jeep on the right heading, I just sat there like a good girl and trusted him. After all, he had already saved my life twice. I just prayed that once the summer sun began its assault on the landscape, we would be in the shade somewhere and no one would have to come and rescue us. I hoped that’s the way it would play out just as I hoped we didn’t get a flat.

“Karen,” whispered Hicks, tapping me on the shoulder. “We’re here.”

“Hmm? Oh. That was fast.”

Hicks was already out of the jeep while I was stretching my sore body. I took in my new surroundings for a few moments under the brightening twilight sky. It was mostly a lot of nothingness, albeit a rolling nothingness more pleasing on the eyes, with brush here and there and the occasional silhouetted cactus.

“Watcha doin?” I wondered, just before Hicks disappeared behind a gnarly skeleton of a tree.”

“Trying to hide the evidence.”

“Here,” I said. “Let me give you a hand.”

I helped him scare up some more brush. By the time the feeble light of the flashlight I was holding was increasingly losing out to the pale orange glow of late twilight, the jeep was out of sight and out of mind…for the most part.

Hicks wiped the sweat from his brow. “Alright. Good enough for government work…So, how are you feeling?”

I let out a yawn and tried to shake off some of the fatigue. “About as awake as I’m going to get I suppose.”

Hicks eased his body down next to the pack adjacent to the brush. “Thirsty?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. I lipped my chapped lips at the sight of the canteen he was pulling out of the side pocket. He handed it to me and I took a couple of swigs. “God that’s good! Best water I ever tasted.”

Hicks smiled a knowing smile, and I had the disturbing feeling that the water was probably going to keep tasting better and better as the day wore on.

After I handed him the canteen back, he picked up his bulging pack like it weighed nothing. “Let’s get going. I put some of your stuff into my pack to lighten your load. Just give me a holler if it gets to be too much for you.”

“Thanks, but I think I can manage,” I assured with a half smile.

This is light? I thought to myself as I placed the straps on my shoulders. But I faked a smile and an easy stride until I was alongside him. “Let’s hit the road,” I declared. “We’re burning daylight!”

He flashed me an incredulous smile. “Follow me, and watch your footing.”

We trudged our way across the increasingly rugged terrain. A lone coyote howled as the first rays of the burgeoning sun peeked above the horizon, perhaps lamenting the end of too brief a respite. I could certainly relate. The pack was becoming increasingly heavy with each step just as the air was getting hotter with each passing minute.

Hicks pulled out his map and scanned the largest mound of the morning thus far that was confronting us. His eyes briefly darted back and forth between the small red circle around a dark beige splotch on the map and the corresponding barren reality that was waiting quietly in the distance.

“Just a couple more clicks,” he said. “We should make it to that escarpment before the heat starts to get too bad.”

Noticing that my pack was still resting on the ground, he walked over. I cut him off before his lips could form the first word of a much needed offer of help.

“I’ve got it,” I said. But I think I came across as more tired than proud I imagine. “Just taking in the scenery for a second.”

I picked up the pace and soon I was by his side and commanding my body once more to keep up with what was probably an easy pace for him. He didn’t say it, but I knew I was slowing him down…slowing us down; thus, I didn’t want to complain. I wanted him to think I was tough for some reason. And maybe that reason had to do with some remnant shred of male pride. I wasn’t sure.

By the time we reached the escarpment, the sun’s rays had already sent the small desert creatures retreating to their daytime hiding places as fast as the long shadows of morning were now retreating.

“Watch yourself!” advised Hicks, when we were half way up the escarpment.

No sooner had he said that, that the sole of my right boot dug into what I had thought previously to be unremarkable rock. My boot slipped out along with some rubble. About to tumble down with it, I shouted, “Hicks!”

“Shit!” he said.

He darted toward the tree just above me, grabbed onto a sturdy limb with one hand, and lunged toward me with his free hand. He grabbed me by the forearm just in time and helped me scrabble up to some firmer footing.

Standing next to him by the tree, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

He said, “I don’t think you would have been seriously injured, just scraped up quite a bit.”

I looked back down at all of the progress we had made, all the way to the start that was now marked with rising dust that the rubble had kicked up.

“That would have been a bitch,” I commented. “Having to climb all the way back up I mean. It was hard enough the first time.” I looked down at my burden that I had set down for a few seconds and then back at Hicks. I smiled and said, “I think maybe I’ll take you up on your earlier offer. My pack seems a lot heavier all of the sudden.”

He reciprocated with a warm smile. “No problem. We’re almost there anyway.”

“Ahh,” I said, wincing a little as I took the first couple of tentative steps along the last few meters of the gentle slope that led to a dark recess in the rock wall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think maybe I tweaked my ankle a little when I lost my footing back there.” I set down my pack and tried to rub it out.

Hicks walked over and picked up my pack. “Just rest here. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the shadows. A few moments later, a steady glow dispersed a good deal of the shadows and Hicks emerged and offered his hand once more. He helped me up and I draped my left arm across his shoulders. Then, he proceeded to help this wounded and exhausted soldier across the threshold.

By the glow of the lantern, I unlaced my right boot and gingerly slid it off, exposing a lump on my ankle that seemed to be rising like a bit of dough.

“Here,” he said. “Let me.” He lifted up my foot ever so gently and slid my pack underneath it. The ice pack he had grabbed from his pack crackled as he eased it toward my swollen flesh.

“Ahh,” I said, wincing slightly at the sensation of the cold sting against my tender flesh that lie somewhere between pleasure and pain. “Sorry for slowing us down a little back there now that everyone and their brother are probably out looking for us.”

Sitting down across from me, he brought his knees closer to his chest and gave me a calm smile. “I highly doubt they’ll find us this far from the base.”

“How can you be so sure? What about the jeep’s tracks?”

“Hardly left any. We dropped off the driver while we were still on the hard pack. And it was hard pack for a good while longer after. As for the jeep, unless there’s a storm that kicks up here shortly, that brush covering up the jeep isn’t going anywhere and the only ones who are going to find it are some curious scorpions or snakes.”

I shuddered. “I hate snakes.”

“Word of advice: if one happens to wriggle its way in here, don’t make any sudden moves. They only lunge when they’re scared.”

I nodded my head and thought to myself, good luck following that advice Karen!

After fifteen minutes or so, he asked, “How’s the ankle?”

Removing the ice pack, I said, “Good and numb. We’ll see when I have to stand up again.”

“For now, try and keep your weight off it. You’ve got plenty of time to rest and heal up.”

“How long are we going to be here?”

“A few days.” Seeing that my eyes went almost as wide as if a rattlesnake had wandered on in, he smiled and reassured me. “We’ve got more than enough food and water and…” He looked around our temporary residence. “And we’ve got plenty of shade until an old friend of mine of mine makes a rendezvous with us.”

“Who is he…or she?”

“She’s the last person who wants anyone from the government to find her, even before the shit storm that went down last week…Pardon my language.”

“It’s okay. I’ve certainly heard worse…” All of the sudden, a lot of “what-ifs” flooded my mind. “What if she changes her mind and doesn’t show? What if she gets scared?”

Hicks stifled a laugh. “She’s a tough old bird. Maybe tougher than me…don’t tell her that I said that by the way.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“She taught me a lot growing up. Manned me up quite a bit and straightened my butt out.”

“Is she a relative?”

“No. But she’s the closest thing I’ve got to family.”

“Oh. Are you…”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t elaborated further. Offering my hand, I said, “I’m so sorry.”

His body stiffened up after he acknowledged my lame sympathy with an obligatory smile. It seemed his policy on being sorry was the same as Alice’s when she set me straight on that fateful day.

I yawned and I guess that was his cue. He stood up and said, “Go ahead and rest. You’ll need it. I’ll take first watch.”

He unrolled my sleeping bag for me. I wiggled my way in like a snake. He slipped his gun in the holster and snuffed out the light. I stared at his rock solid silhouette for just a few minutes before drifting off to sleep. The adrenaline had thoroughly worn off.

To Be Continued...

When the rescue party rendezvous with Karen and Hicks at the desert escarpment, Karen Shaw soon learns that surviving the desert conditions may be the least of her problems.

Chapter 4

The next two days were more boring than nerve wracking. Even though Hicks told me not to worry, I knew there were no more guarantees with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. And I pondered just how much it was in the balance while I stood guard during the evening hours of the second day. I assumed the worst as I scanned the desolate beauty like it was some Ansel Adams panoramic view come to life.

And speaking of coming to life, I heard Hicks stirring as the setting sun set the mountains alight, revealing layer upon layer of rich hues.

“Hicks,” I said softly. “Come over here and have a look.”

“What is it?” he wondered, shuffling on over, yawning the whole way. “It’s not a patrol in the distance is it?”

“No. Just the sunset.”

He stood beside me and squinted his eyes, apparently trying to see things through my weary yet grateful eyes.

I said, “It sure is something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Brings back memories.”

“I’m just grateful to be around for another one,” I added. “Never know how many more you’re going to get.”

In that special moment, my right hand seemed to drift on over toward his chiseled body, seemingly of its own accord, wanting to share the moment with him. But I caught myself and withdrew it.

“I think I’ll get something to eat,” I said. “I’m not sure if it’s lunch or dinner considering the hours I’ve been keeping.”

Hicks said, “Breakfast for me I guess. Not that it really matters, what with eating the same food every meal.”

He gazed out across the vast expanse for a little while longer, perhaps enjoying the sunset a little more, or perhaps confirming that we were still indeed alone. He finally joined me in the waning light of evening.

I said, “I wish we could keep the lantern on. I’m normally not one to be afraid of the dark…but in this place…”

I suppressed a shiver.

“What? Are the coyotes getting to you?” he teased. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Not as long as the howling stays as far away as that lightning storm the other night.” He paused for a few moments while he studied my silhouette like some rock formation off in the distance. “You know,” he began, “I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed how you’re taking everything in stride. Most women, if they’d been what you’d been through…I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not talking about how women are the weaker sex. I’m just trying to say that you’re a lot tougher than I thought when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe it’s the haircut.” I shuddered momentarily. “I can’t wait until it grows back. It’s been a while since…”

“Since what?”

“Since I dressed as a guy.”

Hicks laughed for a few seconds, but his laughter faded as quickly as his smile when he noticed my expression remained as blank as the walls of our little cave.

“Wait a minute,” he began. “You’re not being serious are you?”

“Just forget I said anything. It’s a long story anyway, a chapter of my life I’d really like to forget.”

Observing that the awkwardness between us had almost reached a level where you could cut it with a knife, the protracted silence between us had me wondering if I should give him a rather unpleasant briefing about the history of one Eric Campbell.

I cleared my throat before elaborating further.

“How much did Susan tell you about the project?” I asked.

“Well,” began Hicks, “Enough to make me realize that I didn’t sign up for this shit…pardon my language…I mean I’ll be damned if my team and I rescued you from those religious nut jobs back at the warehouse just to hand you over to people that want to turn you into some kind of lab rat.”

“Lab rat?” I wondered.

The sickening level of deceit was finally beginning to dawn on me and I felt an accompanying surge of anxiety through my heart.

“Hicks,” I implored, “I have to know what happened to the others. You need to tell me everything Susan told you.”

He pursed his lips before speaking. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes,” I said, in almost a whisper. “I have to know.”

I could see Hicks fighting anger and disgust as if someone were pouring salt into a deep wound in his psyche.

Regaining his composure, he said, “Susan told me they were impregnating some of the women. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she said she strongly suspected they were injecting them with the virus to see if any immunity would be passed onto the child.”

“Jesus!” was the only response I could manage. “I should have known. I should have known I shouldn’t have put anything past them. Fucking bastards. Goddamn Mengele sons of bitches!”

Now it was my turn to regain my composure.

Fighting back tears, I said, “Sorry about the language.”

“My sentiments exactly,” said Hicks. “At first, I didn’t want to believe it, but then again, why would Susan risk her career to help you get out if something terrible wasn’t going on? Now you know why I had to do what I had to do. The world needs to know the truth about what’s going on in there…what’s left of it I mean. So, to hell with the consequences.”

He shook his head.

I leaned in closer as if I was seeking out warmth from a fire.

“What else did she tell you about me?” I inquired.

“Besides having possible immunity? Not much else.”

“Oh,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought she might have…” I cleared my throat. “Never mind.”

Hicks briefly furrowed his brow. “I’ve just got one question. Why do they even suspect you might have immunity in the first place? How can they know considering you’ve never been exposed to the virus?”

“Like I said before, it’s a long story…A very long, complicated, and exhausting story to tell.”

Hicks opened his mouth as if to speak; instead, he simply nodded and gave me my space.

In that moment, I doubted I would ever feel ready to tell him. Considering that I never even told my boyfriend, I figured this was one secret I might end up taking to the grave if I played my cards right, just like Susan was probably going to take her secret to the grave after they found out and locked her up…or worse. I didn’t even want to think through any more of the terrible consequences of her heroic actions.

Hicks finally broke the awkward silence.

“Looks like we both have a complicated past.”

“That and the same barber,” I joked.

And the fact that we both knew what it was like to be able to enjoy the convenience of standing while peeing. I so wanted to say that, but I wisely chose to adopt the versatile “don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”

As usual, Hicks awoke before me. While I was yawning and attempting to stretch out all of the soreness in my lower back from sleeping on the dusty and cool rock floor, I noticed Hicks out of the corner of my eye. Just beyond the entrance to our den, he was partially obscured by the shadows but I could see him standing as still as the stale air, binoculars raised and captivated by something off in the dim distance.

Instead of checking my boots for scorpions or snakes-which had quickly become a part of my morning routine-I padded on over in my dingy white socks to join him. I stood next to him for a few moments, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence.

Instead of exchanging the usual pleasantries, he simply handed me the binoculars and directed me where to look. I adjusted the focus and peered into the distance like an astronomer through her telescope at the heavens. I peered intently, but I saw nothing to distinguish this small dusty patch I was looking at from the rest of the unremarkable horizon.

I lowered my binoculars and met his eyes with crinkled brow.

“Hicks,” I began, “What exactly am I…”

He cut me off before I could finish.

“Just give it a minute. Be patient.”

After shushing me like a child, he motioned for me to gaze through the binoculars once more.

Before I could grow impatient, a series of white flashes danced near the horizon like a variable star. Seconds later, they danced again with exactly the same rhythm. I had a pretty good idea what I was seeing and my heart surged with renewed hope after days of painful waiting. The tension drained from my face as I lowered the binoculars and turned toward Hicks once more, this time with a warm smile.

Seeking some superfluous confirmation, I started to say, “Is that what I think it is?”

Hicks reciprocated with a warm smile of his own before his chapped lips parted and he spoke in a raspy voice.

“Mmm hmm.” He savored the last few drops from his canteen before elaborating further. “That’s the signal we’ve been waiting for…She’s come through in fine style…just like I knew she would. Time to return her call.”

He gave me a wink.

I could hear the scraping of Velcro as he pulled a maglite flashlight out of a pocket. He narrowed the beam and flashed away at a different rhythm than the mystery person in the distance. Then he motioned for me to hand him the binoculars. He only stared for a matter of seconds before nodding his head and fixing his gaze upon me, a reassuring smile lighting up his face once more.

“Yep,” he said. “That’s definitely her.”

“Were you flashing some kind of code?”

“Uh-huh…morse code.”

“Did you learn it in the Boy Scouts?”

He stifled a laugh. “God no! At that age, instead of collecting merit badges I was collecting street signs from intersections that really needed them.”

“You weren’t kidding,” I said, giving him a playful shove. “You really were a bad boy! I hope you didn’t cause any accidents.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I was quite the juvenile delinquent.”

He shook his head and forced a laugh.

I couldn’t help but laugh as well.

I said, “I can’t wait until I hear some more illuminating stories from your…from your uh…”

“Sissy. That’s what everyone calls her.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at a most unlikely name.

“Well, that’s certainly ironic,” I said.

“Her birth name is Cecelia Anne…but don’t call her that…oh, and you didn’t hear it from me.”

“How’d she get the nick-name?”

Hicks shrugged his shoulders before sitting down to the sight of my disappointed face.

“I’m not really sure how,” he confessed. “It all depends on who you ask.”

Instead of indulging in some idle speculation, he indulged his hopeful curiosity by intently scanning the horizon like a radar beam. Without taking his eyes off of it, he motioned for me to sit down next to him.

“Might as well sit a spell,” he urged. “It’ll be awhile before they reach us.”

“They?” I inquired.

“You didn’t think Sissy was going to come without backup did you?”

“No, but…who else is with her?”

“I’m not sure. But she’ll have a couple of guys with her. I doubt there will be anyone else. She doesn’t trust that many people.”

“I can definitely relate to that,” I conceded, acknowledging such a depressed truth with a subtle head shake.

“It’s going to be okay,” reassured Hicks.

“It’s strange,” I began, with a faraway look in my eyes, “I actually believe you when you say that. Thanks.”

A modest half-smile briefly brushed his face. I reciprocated with a forced smile of my own. But my smile quickly drained away after remembering how much of an illusion this feeling of safety was.

“I don’t know why,” I began, “But I feel very safe with you right now Hicks…in spite of everything that’s going on out there. I don’t know why. I know I should be scared. I should be scared out of my mind, but for some reason I’m not.”

“Maybe you’re just too tired to worry,” he added. “I know I am. The brain can only take so much bombardment before it goes into shut-down mode.”

I nodded my head, simultaneously trying and failing to muffle a laugh.

“And speaking of shut-down,” I mentioned. “All this god-awful heat is making my body want to shut down. I mean I’ve never felt this drained before. I’ll tell ya, what I wouldn’t give for a nice walk on the beach with a cool sea breeze right about now. Know what I mean?”

In response to a subtle nod of Hicks’ head, I said, “But I guess that’s not going to happen…just like I’m never going to…”
I fought back tears as an image of Alice with her beautiful and infectious smile and flawless milky-white skin burrowed its way to the surface.

When Hicks delicately asked me to elaborate, all I could manage was the quietly evasive “nothing.”

At that moment, I realized it was the terrifying uncertainty regarding Alice’s whereabouts and more importantly her fate which worried me more than thoughts of failing to avoid capture from our pursuers. “What if” scenarios raced through my mind like the desert mice scurrying back to their daytime hiding places. Sadly, depressingly, I envisioned the best case scenario to be Alice holed up inside her house, held hostage by the virus, as terrified to leave as the military blockade enforcing the quarantine was afraid of allowing one virus particle escape. And as far as the worst case scenario was concerned…Well, I’ll just leave that one to the imagination.

The remainder of the time waiting for our rescue party to arrive was spent in silence. And I suppose Hicks spent as much time thinking about his fiancée as I did about poor, sweet, and innocent Alice.

I saw swirls of dust like mini dust devils before I heard the slow but steady approach of hoof beats. As the hoof beats grew louder, the dust devils became fainter in the fading long red-orange rays of the setting sun.

When the hoof beats subsided and stopped at the base of the escarpment, Hicks put on his night-vision goggles and peered downward. Soon, a smile set his face alight just as the first stars were lighting up the twilight sky.

“Hello down there!” shouted Hicks.

The echo from his voice had barely subsided before a gruff yet feminine voice danced upward and across the walls of the cave.

“Are ya’ll ready to check outta this place now or what?” asked the mystery woman.

“You got that right!” replied Hicks in a jovial tone. “Just give us some light on the slope and we’ll be down A.S.A.P.”

“Amen to that,” I quietly proclaimed.

With renewed energy, we scurried down the slope, inhaling one dusty breath after another. Hicks led the way, but we didn’t even make it halfway to our rescue party before the same weathered female voice bellowed once more.

“Whoa you two!” she cautioned, as if steadying her horse. “That’s far enough.”

“What’s wrong?” protested Hicks.

“Right now…nothing,” she said. “And I’d like to keep it that way. I can’t take any chances on account of the virus.”

“But I’m not sick,” I declared. “And neither is Hicks.”

“Yeah,” asserted Hicks. “We’ve been effectively quarantined here for the past few days.”

In a weary tone, she continued expressing her trepidation.

“I know that,” she said, in a weary tone. “But from what I’ve heard on the news, I also know this damned virus can linger in the body for quite some time before rearing its ugly head. So for now, if ya’ll wanna travel with us, you’re gonna have to travel downwind of us…No offense ma’am.”

“None taken,” I said. “Can’t be too careful.”

In fact, all of the sudden, I didn’t take offense, for God only knows what I was secretly exposed to other than a makeshift X chromosome and lies, lies, and more lies.

Hicks’ “mom” continued on.

“Now, I was only able to bring one extra horse given the short notice and all. So it’ll have to do for the both of you for the time bein.’”

“That’s fine,” replied Hicks.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Besides, I don’t know how to ride anyway.”

“Well,” she said, “Now’s as good as any other time to take some lessons. Wouldn’t you agree Hicks?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

Just then, Sissy made a clicking sound with her tongue, followed by a firm slap on some substantial flesh, which preceded a clip-clopping sound.

Sissy said, “There ya go. Go ahead and saddle up now. We’re burning moonlight!”

“Wow!” I exclaimed, studying the magnificent beast in the pale moonlight. “She’s beautiful!”

My moment of reverence was interrupted by some chuckling coming from the direction of our rescue party. Then, Sissy corrected me.

“I think Max might object to that,” she chided.

“Right,” I said. “I guess preferred gender pronouns apply to horses as well as people.”

“That’s a new one on me,” said Hicks.

Hicks patted the horse as if they were old friends before smoothly and easily mounting it with one determined grunt. Then he offered his hand. But even with his help, it took more than one determined grunt and several failed attempts before I was able to climb on board behind him in a less than fluid and even less lady-like straddling maneuver.

“We’re all set,” announced Hicks. “About how far do you want us to hang back?”

“About thirty yards is fine,” said Sissy matter-of-factly.

Once we were on our way, I finally asked, “Where exactly are we headed?”

“Hey Sissy,” began Hicks, “Are we still headed towards the same place?”

“Yep,” was her simple reply as if answering between mouthfuls of tobacco. “Sorry ma’am, but the accommodations aren’t much better than your previous address. But at least it’ll be cooler…much cooler.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, for whoever said the heat is more bearable in the desert southwest because it’s a dry heat is an idiot!

“So where exactly is this air-conditioned place?” I asked.

I could envision an ironic smile on Hicks’ face when he said, “An old abandoned mine.”

“Cool,” I said. “Literally!” I chuckled. “By old, do you mean like back-in-the-day “wild west” old?”

“Not quite,” he said in a cowboyish kind of drawl. “It closed right before the Great Depression when it stopped putting out.”

“Huh,” I began. “What a coincidence. That’s when my grandfather was born. Talk about a bad-luck time to be born, huh?”

“Yeah,” agreed Hicks. “But at least he was able to be born. Who knows if there’ll even be any women left in a few years to bring anybody into this world. At least the upside is there won’t be anyone left to remember the bad times…all of the pain.”

He sighed. Apparently the weight of what he had let slip out sunk in, for he quickly apologized.

“I’m sorry Karen,” he said. “Don’t pay any attention to me right now. I’m just exhausted…just exhausted.”

I grasped his hand, fighting back tears the whole time. “It’s okay Hicks. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had similar thoughts.” I paused as thoughts of project Eve 2.0 and the slim possibility of having my own child sent a surge of energy radiating outward from my weary heart. “Maybe things aren’t as bleak as you think…as everyone thinks right now. I for one think life will go on. I imagine that one day, old-timers will tell their grandchildren of the time when we almost checked out from this world, yet somehow managed to make it through to the other side, just like we made it out of the Great Depression.”

Hicks said, “I hope so. I really do.”

His less than optimistic reply had me suspecting he perceived my optimism to be synonymous with delusional thinking, or at best, a kind of naivety that went beyond the garden variety kind of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, a naivety borne of wearing a partial blindfold. At that moment, I so wanted to convince him that it wasn’t. But I couldn’t, because convincing him would require telling him the truth about me. For now, I’d just have to silently bear my burden, just like our horse was quietly bearing its burden.

We rode the rest of the way in silence, with his eyes keenly focused on every inch of the “road” ahead, just like that fateful “no more looking back” night in the jeep all those nights ago. I just let him concentrate. And I just kept my arms wrapped around his rock solid body, not wanting to abandon that feeling of safety that warmly suffused throughout my body. Soon, that warm feeling began lulling me to sleep. I found myself nodding off as if I was in the back seat of my parents’ car on a long trip, being soothed by the never ending monotone drone of the engine, reassuring me that we would make it home safely.

I wish I could tell you I enjoyed a respite from the burden of reality. I wish I could tell you that I found refuge for a few short hours in luxurious dreamless sleep, but I wasn’t that fortunate, for it didn’t feel like a dream. The nightmare felt as real as my first night on the streets a lifetime ago. I don’t remember much now, but I do remember standing in front of Alice’s grave on a frosted winter day.

When I was jolted back to the land of the living, I was sobbing. Hicks instinctively put his arms around me, just like I imagined my fiancé would.

“It’s okay Karen,” he reassured. “It was just a dream. Shhh…It was just a dream.”

“But it felt so…so real,” I said, in between gulps of air during my remnant dry sobs.”

“What was it you saw that’s gotten you so shaken up?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I managed, wiping away a wayward tear. “Like you said, it was just a dream.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

I forced a smile.

“No. It’s fading fast anyway,” I lied. Looking skyward, I added, “Soon it’ll be gone just like those last few stars.”

But what I wanted to say was “soon it’ll be gone just like everything else in this world.” But I bit my tongue.

Just then, realizing we had fallen a little too far behind, I heard Sissy’s booming voice, amplified by the “cool” morning air.

“Everything alright back there?”

“Yeah,” said Hicks.

“Good,” replied Sissy. “We’re almost there. Just a few more clicks.”

At that moment, I hoped that when she said “clicks,” she meant kilometers, not miles.

After three kilometers, we arrived at the boarded up entrance to the mine.

Sissy was the first to dismount, flashlight in hand. Everyone else stayed on their horses. After she briefly pierced the darkness with the bright beam, she turned her attention to one of her two companions.

Sissy gave her first order.

“Jack, give me a hand with this.”

“Sure thing Sissy,” obeyed the man.

Jack dismounted with the same ease as Sissy, but I doubt the horse even noticed considering he was as stringy as the beef jerky he was chewing on. He rummaged through one of the saddlebags and pulled out a crowbar.

The wood creaked like an old rocking chair as they went to work. Once the last nail squeaked its way out, Sissy pulled her gun out of its holster. Flashlight in one hand and gun cocked in the other, she waded into the darkness.

When she was out of sight for more than a few seconds, I whispered to Hicks.

“What’s with the side arm?”

Hicks replied, “The boards may keep the coyotes out, but the snakes can still wriggle their way in.”

To which I joked, “Remind me never to move to the desert southwest.”

“It’s just for the night,” he assured. “We’ll just have to tough it out…together…You don’t have a phobia do you?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not the snake I’m afraid of, it’s the venom…not to mention the fact that the nearest hospital is…” I made a sweeping motion with my arm along the rosy horizon. “God only knows how far away it is.”

“Farther than a coyote’s distant howl as far out as we are now.”

I immediately recognized the owner of the raspy smoker’s voice. I peered over my shoulder to the sight of Sissy’s shadowy petite figure emerging from the entrance.

Then I heard Jack speak up. “Not to worry ma’am. I’m sure Hicks wouldn’t mind sucking out the venom for you.”

The huskier member of our rescue party finally broke his silence with a laugh reminiscent of sandpaper scraping against his vocal chords. But both of them piped down when Sissy cast a withering glare in their direction.

With an expression as soft as the leather of her old well broken in saddle, she returned her attention to Hicks and me.

“Good news,” she began, “No snakes or any other pesky critters for that matter for half a click.”

“You’re positive?” I inquired.

“You didn’t hear me discharge my firearm did you?” was her cool reply.

“Good enough for me,” reasoned Hicks.

Sissy motioned for the two of us to dismount. Then she said, “You can set up camp in this passageway. But don’t let your guard down,” she cautioned, the wry smile draining from her face. “I highly recommend for the two of you to sleep in shifts.”

Hicks and I nodded.

Continuing on, Sissy said, “We’re gonna hit the sack about half a click north. You’ve got plenty of supplies to last you a few days…just in case we have to go our separate ways.” Tipping her hat, she added, “Sweet dreams.”

Right on cue, her companions commanded their tired horses forward with a gentle nudge. Soon, all three figures retreated back into the shadows before disappearing around a bend.

As Hicks led his horse over to the passageway, I was still preoccupied with our brief and succinct conversation with Sissy.

I asked him, “What did she mean by ‘…in case we have to go our separate ways?’”

Hicks simply shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? She’s a realist.”

“Well,” I said, “She’s gonna feel bad when I don’t fall ill…when she realizes she was wrong.”

“Don’t expect an apology any time soon,” said Hicks. “She’d sooner go to the doctor for a voluntary exam than utter the words ‘I’m sorry. I guess you’ll just have to wait a little while longer until you get to listen to some of her stories around the glow of the lantern in the evening…I mean morning.”

I couldn’t keep from yawning. “I know what you mean,” I said. “My body has no idea what time it is either.”

Prepared to go in first, Hicks turned on his flashlight.

“Here,” I offered, with outstretched hand. “Allow me.”

“I’m not sure ‘ladies first’ applies to this situation,” said Hicks.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured, with a dismissive wave of my hand.

I waited for Hicks a clever retort from Hicks, but his only reply at that moment was a restrained grin.

Arms akimbo, I asked, “What’s up?”

“You’re just full of surprises Karen…and a lot braver than I initially gave you credit for.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said with genuine modesty. “I think Sissy is more deserving of the title ‘brave’ than I am. After all, she was the one who went in first in search of things that go rattle in the night.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Karen. Most women, if they’d been through everything you’ve been through, wouldn’t be taking things in stride like you’ve been doing.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But then again, I’m not most women.” In response to Hicks’ furrowed brow, I added, “God definitely broke the mold when he made me.”

Hicks nodded in response to my rather cryptic reply.

With me ‘bravely’ leading the way, we navigated our way through a winding passageway whose eventual man-made course was dictated eons ago by a random distribution of veins of ore, long since ripped out. All that was left were ugly scoured walls and cool stale air smelling of rusted dust.

After passing exhausted section after exhausted section of wall, we came upon an exhausted section of ceiling. The rubble on the floor was piled up three-quarters of the way to the top.

Looking back at Hicks, I said, “I hope to God this collapse happened a very, very, long time ago!”

“Probably before Sissy was born,” noted Hicks. Fighting through a yawn, he said, “Do you want to…”

Before he could finish, I interjected.

“Sure. I’ll take first watch. I got plenty of sleep on the way here anyway.”

“Are you alright Karen?” worried Hicks. “You’re voice seems a little raspy. Do you need some more water?”

I shook my head.

“It’s probably all of the dust,” I reasoned.

But my body seemed to disagree with my assertion, for it couldn’t help but compensate in the only way it knew how.

Cough! Cough!

“Here,” said Hicks.

I reluctantly grabbed the canteen from his outstretched arm.

Gulp! Gulp!

“Ahhh,” I uttered. “That’s better. Like I said, it’s just all of the dust and everything making my throat sore.”

Politely refusing to consider the possible entrance of the elephant into the room, so to speak, Hicks quietly started setting up our gear.

As I stood first watch near the entrance to the mine, it wasn’t the military, or snakes, or coyotes that I was afraid of; instead, I was petrified at the very real possibility of Sissy’s earlier concerns playing themselves out. Now I felt like a hypochondriac as the lines became blurred. Symptoms of prolonged living in a desert environment were being confused for symptoms of the virus. And I couldn’t stop myself from asking obvious questions:

Am I feeling so drained because of the heat alone, or is it something else? Is my cough just a temporary annoyance or an early warning of things to come? And, has my forehead warmed up because of the minor exertion involved in traversing the narrow passageway, or…

I didn’t even want to finish that what if. But even though I didn’t, I felt a chill shoot down my spine. And instantaneously, the feeling of safety and the feeling that everything was going to be alright left me as quickly as the miners abandoned the exhausted mine.

In that moment, I wondered if the unforgiving desert landscape was the last thing I was ever going to set eyes on. I also wondered if God existed. And if he did exist, I wondered if he was as indifferent as the blazing desert sun that was soon to be overhead.

I cried and prayed, but I cried more than I prayed. I had never been this scared.

To Be Continued...

A seemingly ordinary desert sunrise reinfuses Karen Shaw with hope and the determination to prevail.

Chapter 5

When Hicks awoke after some well earned rest, after being “behind the wheel,” so to speak for so long, I was huddled in the corner, clutching my knees close to my chest. I was shaking, but this time it wasn’t because I was scared.

“Karen,” began Hicks. “Are you crying?”

I said nothing, but I must have greeted him with terrified eyes, for he rushed over before he had a chance to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

He knelt down and grasped my hand.

“You are crying,” he said. “What’s gotten you all shaken up? Did you run into a snake or something?”

I shook my head.

“Just feel my forehead,” I suggested.

“Jesus Karen! You’re burning up.”

“I…” I began. “I think Sissy was right. I think she was right to leave me here.”

Holding up my chin, Hicks softly said, “Hey…Let’s not jump the gun here. It might be nothing. It might just be a cold.”

“Or it might be…”

I shuddered and then the floodgates seemed to open. I started sobbing.

“I don’t want to end up like the others Hicks,” I pleaded. “I’m scared…I’m just so scared right now.”

“You won’t end up like the others Karen,” insisted Hicks.

I remained silent while Hicks traded his hopelessly inadequate words for something more helpful from his pack.

“Here,” he urged. “Take these.”

I swallowed the aspirin, but it felt like they were more of a placebo than Hicks’ earlier default reassurances.

It turns out my feelings were right. The rest of the day is really hazy, even hazier than my recollections of what it used to be like as Eric Campbell.

I suffered through one onslaught of fever and chills after another; even worse was the onslaught of bad dreams in between…or hallucinations. I wasn’t sure.

I don’t remember all of them, but the one that stuck with me like the scar on my shoulder was a nightmare as real and tangible as the hard and unforgiving rock walls of the abandoned mine.

I found myself back in my city of residence, only it was deserted. Haphazardly parked abandoned cars were strewn on streets like bodies.

Strangely enough, I was wearing the unisex “one size fits all” drab clothing from the psychiatric facility. I shuffled down the middle of one side-street after another in my slippers, but all I found was more nothing, as if I were wandering down one empty cave passage after the other.

It felt so real, so horrifyingly real. What also felt real was a familiar sounding whisper carried on the whistling wind.

Help me Karen. Help me.

Somehow I knew where it was coming from and I was instinctively drawn back to my apartment. And the closer I got the more quiet desperation I heard in that meek voice.

Please help me! You’re the only one who can.

I rushed up the stairs and down the hall, desperate to try and save this one lone anonymous survivor.

“Damn it!” I cried out. “No keys!”

I kicked open the door to my apartment. I stepped across the threshold and followed the pleas into my bedroom. But when opened the door, I found myself back in that damn psychiatric hospital. And it seemed as deserted as the streets of my once vibrant city.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Where are you?”

But there was just deafening silence. Then, I bolted past the nurse’s station, toward the end of the hallway. That’s when I heard it, not that quietly imploring whisper of a voice, but a slow and steady beeping.

When I burst into one of the patient rooms where it was emanating from, I witnessed a pitiful sight that brought me to tears. There was Alice, as pale as she was still. I walked over and grasped her hand.

“Alice…Alice. Can you hear me? It’s Karen honey. I'm here.”

But the only reply was the damned beeping of that heart rate monitor. Soon, my maternal instincts kicked in. I frantically searched the room for something…anything that I could use to comfort my poor friend. I searched the drawers but found only the liner. I looked in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but the only thing I found was the cold and sterile light from the fluorescent bulbs.

Then, I opened Alice’s eyes, but I found no signs of recognition.

But before I could break down crying, an abrupt tapping on my shoulder caused my heart rate to skyrocket as if someone from beyond the grave had grabbed my arm.

“Karen,” said one of the nurses from the psychiatric facility. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“What?”

“You know you’re too weak to be out of bed,” she said sternly.

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I need to be by Alice’s side right now.”

“No, you don’t,” ordered the nurse. “You’re in a weakened state and you’re helpless. You’re weak and helpless Karen and there’s nothing you can do. She’s in God’s hands now.”

I scoffed, and turned my attention back to Alice, ignoring the nurse. But what I saw was more frightening than that abrupt tap on my shoulder.

Instead of Alice lying in bed, it was me, and I was just as helpless. With searching and imploring eyes, I confronted the nurse once more. However, she didn’t even favor me with a gaze; instead, she glided past me as if I was rush hour traffic to be avoided.

“Bitch!” I hissed. “Don’t you ignore me…don’t you dare!”

I waived my hand in front of her expressionless eyes, but my efforts were like a keycard that stubbornly refuses to be accepted.

“I’m here!” I cried out. “I’m still here. Why can’t you hear me? Why don’t you see me?”

But the only thing she acknowledged at that moment was the steadily slowing rate of beeping coming from the heart rate monitor.

Playing the role of comforter, she grasped my hand…I mean the me who was lying in bed as still as a corpse.

“Time to wake up Karen,” she whispered in a tone as soft as silk. Tapping my shoulder, she began speaking more insistently. “Wake up Karen. Be a good girl and wake up.”

She started gently shaking the limp version of me, but oddly, it was if her hands were on me. Now it felt like I was starting to have a near death experience. I know it’s clichéd, but the room started to fade as if I was severely near-sighted and had just removed my glasses. Then the room dimmed like a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. And then I was floating in the darkness, but throughout there was that sensation of being shaken.

As it turns out, I wasn’t headed for the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I traded my helpless vantage point in the hospital room for a new vantage point in the corner of the dimness that was the end of the abandoned mining tunnel. I also traded my fear and desperation for a numb feeling of indifference, a feeling that was as mind numbingly soothing as the hiss of static from an old useless television set.

Hovering above and near my body, I witnessed but no longer felt Hicks insistently shaking my limp body. But suddenly, as if I were attached to an elastic tether stretched to its limit, I was flung back towards myself at what felt like light speed.

I opened my eyes to the sight of that terrified look on Hicks’ face melting into a relieved smile.

“Welcome back,” he said.

“Did I go somewhere?”

He shook his head. “No, but for a little while, I…”

“How long was I out for?” I interjected.

“For about ten hours…but it felt longer,” he replied.

“It felt like minutes to me…some of the longest minutes of my life.”

Hicks furrowed his brow.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “What happened to my hand? It’s all red and itchy…And my face…It itches like crazy! Hicks, I need your mirror.”

“You might want to hold off on that right now.”

“Great,” I said. “I look that bad, huh?”

“Ummm…” began Hicks. “You don’t quite have your usual perfect complexion at the moment.”

“I still want to take a look,” I insisted. “I’d rather get over the shock right now.”

“Alright,” he relented. “Here, hold this.”

He handed me the cool wet rag he was holding in his right hand and shuffled on over to his pack in the opposite corner of our abode. I dabbed it on my cheeks, keeping the itchy irritation somewhat at bay.

Hicks handed me the mirror and I winced as my face came into full view.

“Ooh…” I said, cringing as if I’d caught sight of my own blood. “Now I know how my mom felt…Great! Just what I needed…shingles. I mean, WTF Hicks? I guess it must have been all of the stress.”

“Probably,” agreed Hicks.

Forcing a laugh, I conceded, “It’s kinda funny. I never thought I’d be so happy to see a rash all over my body. In a way, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones if this is the worst of my problems.”

Hicks remained silent, only smiling in agreement with my “glass half full” take on things.

Then I said, “God, what I wouldn’t give to dip my body in a bath of aloe vera right about now.”

“I’ve got some caladryl,” offered Hicks.

“That was my second choice!” I said. “Could you get my back first?”

After a subtle nod, Hicks began applying the balm to the itchy collage of irritated red skin that was my back.

“Ohhh!” I exclaimed. “That feels exquisite!”

I was experiencing so much relief that I suppressed a shiver.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Inquired Hicks.

“No, not at all. Please keep going,” I urged. As Hicks continued going about his work with that gentle touch of his, I remarked, “You know, the last time I was this itchy was when I had Chicken Pox.”

“How old were you?” was Hicks casual inquiry.

“Old enough to vividly remember how much the timing sucked.”

“How so?” he wondered.

“Well, for starters, it was the first week of summer vacation. And while all of the other kids were hitting the pool, I was holed up inside applying calamine lotion when I should have been applying sunscreen.”

“I’m sorry,” replied Hicks.

“Well, that’s life for you. It throws you a curve ball every now and again. Anyway, my new swim trunks just sat on my dresser collecting dust for most of June.”

“Swim trunks?” wondered Hicks with furrowed brow.

Whoops!

“Did I say trunks? Oh, silly me. I meant bathing suit. I must still be a little delirious…So, what about you Hicks? What’s your Chicken Pox story?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” but I never had Chicken Pox.

“You lucky dog you,” I teased.

“I was lucky enough to get the vaccine, and so far…fingers crossed…it hasn’t had a chance to slow me down.”

“No,” I began, “now you’ve got me to slow you down,” I said only half-jokingly.

“I think the heat is slowin’ us down more than anything at the moment,” he asserted.

I turned toward him and smiled.

“Here,” he said, “let me get the last bit on your face for you.”

As he gently dabbed here and there, I closed my eyes and relished the cool relief. But now, I was imagining him slowly brushing his finger across the soft skin of my face, tracing out every feminine curve with one fluid caress.

When I opened my eyes, I forgot myself for a few moments, for I gazed lovingly into his eyes, and so did Hicks, but not for long. His face recoiled before his hand followed suit.

“That outta give you some relief for while,” he said in a deflated tone.

“Okay. Thanks. I feel tons better.”

Hicks simply nodded before saying, “I guess I better go stand watch while you rest and get your strength back.”

I managed a nod as weak as my body was.

Three long days later, Sissy was as good as her word.

“Rise and shine!” announced Hicks, as he jogged his way toward me.

“You’re certainly chipper this morning…or…or whatever damn time it is.”

“Karen,” he began, “I hope you’re up for some more traveling, because just like General Macarthur, she has returned.”

I stretched my back and yawned before favoring Hicks with a reply.

“And?”

“And we’re checking the hell outta this place…that is unless you have any objections,” he replied.

“I’m not the one who might have any objections,” I said in a cold monotone.

“Look,” said Hicks in a weary tone. “I explained your situation to Sissy and…”

Before he could finish, a familiar voice cut him off.

“And she knows you’re outta the woods,” said Sissy, moseying on in out of the shadows.

“Jesus!” said Hicks. “How about a knock next time instead of sneaking up on us like that.”

“I didn’t realize I needed an invitation,” was her casual reply.

After surprising us like the prey of a stealthy big cat, she began sizing me up.

“Ahh,” she began, “So this is the good news Hicks was talking about.”

“I suppose being a leper has its advantages…Of course, it beats the alternative,” I said drolly.

With eyes as soft as the lantern light she said, “I for one am just glad you’re still with us Karen.”

Still scratching, I said, “I’m sure I’ll share that sentiment soon.”

“Well,” said Sissy, glancing back at Hicks. “I’ll give you two a few more minutes to get packed up and ready. But don’t take too long. If we’re going to make it back to the ranch by daybreak, we need to get a move on.”

After she was out of earshot, or so I hoped, the corners of my mouth crinkled up as I channeled my inner teenage smartass.

“I don’t suppose I should hold my breath waiting for Sissy to admit she was wrong…about getting the virus I mean.”

Hicks shook his head. “As she’s fond of saying, ‘that’s a long wait for a bus that don’t come.’”

“And another thing,"I added. "I feel like I’m being ordered around. All she has to do is ask nicely. It’s hard enough as it is being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere and on the lamb.”

Crossing his arms, Hicks sighed and continued gazing into my eyes with a blank expression on his face.

“I know,” I conceded. “I know. Maybe I need a little cheese with my whine.”

Hicks smiled and walked over.

“Here,” he said. “Let me give you a hand with your stuff…And cheer up Karen. You won’t have to tough it out for much longer. Soon you’ll be able to take a nice cool bath and have a soft bed to lay in.”

“That does sound pretty good right about now,” I confessed. “I suppose I can tough it out in this little army of hers for a little while longer.”

And it was tough. The ride back to Sissy’s desolate homestead was tough like the emerging calluses on my hands. The uneven terrain was tough on my sore back and shoulders. The parched desert wind was tough on my scaly skin and bloodshot eyes. And worst of all, straddling that gently swaying horse as it made its way over the baked undulating terrain was tough on my itchy raw thighs. It was like one layer of soreness heaped upon the other. And that was just the first half.

The second half was sheer misery. And instead of giving in to the temptation to incessantly ask Hicks if we were “there” yet, I wanted to ask, “could you please knock me out if the answer to that question is no?”

But just when I began thinking that "Dune" was a more appropriate name for the state of Nevada, Sissy eased her horse to a halt and dismounted. Hicks followed suit.

Sissy strolled up alongside us and leaned against our horse. Then she motioned with her head.

“Are we there?” I wondered, peering through the early twilight.

“Almost,” said Sissy.

I said, “Then I guess I’d better stay up here. If I climb off this beast, I don’t think I’ll be able to get back on.”

“Trust me,” added Hicks. “The view is worth it.”

“Alright,” I relented. “Help me down Hicks.”

Now I knew how hospital patients felt after their surgery. With weak knees and rubbery legs, Hicks escorted me toward the brightening above the mountains beckoning in the distance.

A small valley came into view when we neared the edge of a bluff.

Sissy stood motionless for a few moments as she surveyed what seemed like just another flat expanse of nothingness.

But in a reverent tone she said, “There it is. Now that the sun is just below the mountaintops, you can just barely catch sight of it…Take a look,” she advised.

I stared in the direction she was pointing.

“You mean that?” I asked incredulously.

“Uh-huh,” said Sissy.

I couldn’t understand why Sissy had such a special place in her heart for this place. All I could make out were two unremarkable structures that looked more like pixels in an overblown image, one of them probably being the barn. And other than a windmill of the kind ubiquitous in farm country, there wasn’t much else.

“Ummm,” I began. “How much longer till we get there?” I inquired.

“Very soon,” she said in almost a whisper. “But first you need to see something…something that’s very special to me.”

We watched the sunrise. But it wasn’t just another sunrise to be filed away and forgotten like so many countless others. When the suns rays spilled over the mountain tops and drenched the valley with golden light and rich valley hues sprung back up from retreating dead shadows, I knew this sunset would be one I would never forget. Up until this point, the sun had been our greatest foe, an adversary that was even more unforgiving than the military, a military that was ironically able to extend its search beyond the reach of the sun’s rays. Now these same stinging rays offered hope. Now it was lighting our way to sanctuary.

Hicks walked over and put his hand around Sissy.

“I forgot how beautiful it is at sunrise,” said Hicks in that same reverent tone.

“It sure is,” I whispered. “It sure is.”

To Be Continued...

After making it to safety to Sissy's ranch, Karen Shaw, Sissy, and Hicks come up with a plan to find Karen's friend Alice and ascertain her fate in all of the post pandemic chaos and fear.

Chapter 6

Do you remember that movie called Flight of the Phoenix, starring Jimmy Stewart? And do you remember the last scene when they make it back to the oasis and start splashing around in the water like kids on the first day of summer vacation? Well, that’s about how I felt when I first immersed my sore, sunburned, and shriveled body into the cool depths of the water in Sissy’s antique-type bath tub.

“Ahhh! Oh my holy God that feels wonderful!” I quietly exclaimed.

Knock. Knock

“Yes?” I replied.

“Is there anything else you need, like some more antihistamine?” wondered Sissy.

“Thanks Sissy, but I’m good at the moment,” I said softly.

“Okay,” she said. “But don’t take too long,” she advised. “Hicks wants to rinse off soon.”

“Mmm hmm,” I said lazily. I chuckled to myself when a fun little idea popped into my mind. “Well, tell Hicks if he’s anxious to cool off, he can always hop in the tub with me!”

“He was right,” conceded Sissy. “You are a little spark plug.”

I shrugged my shoulders as if she were in the bathroom with me.

It was difficult abandoning the cool relief of the bathtub after all of the soreness in my body had just faded away like most of the itching of my irritated body.

I patted myself dry and stood in front of the full length mirror on the door. Aside from the towel wrapped around my now silky and manageable hair, I was naked. Strangely enough, I didn’t even wince at all of the red patches of itchy skin. I felt totally accepting of my womanly body despite the temporary blemishing imperfection. In fact, in that moment, I wasn’t aware of any physical itching, but I was keenly aware of a deeply burning emotional itching within me. Turning sideways, I puffed out my belly and slowly traced out the smooth curvature with my palm, imaging I was pregnant. Despite the state of affairs out there and the chaos I could only begin to imagine in my mind, I desperately wanted to have a baby. Now that I was no longer in survival mode, I felt this pang within me. And I realized my desire to give birth wasn’t entirely out of some obligation to ensure the continuity of the human race; instead, it was instinctual. I needed to bring a life into this world to feel complete, to ensure a part of me lived on after I passed on. And it amazed me how powerful this desire was.

However, this perfectly natural moment ended with another round of knocking on the solid wood door. But this time, before anyone could annoy me with another insistent “how much longer?” question, I interjected.

“Hold your horses! I’ll be out in just a few moments.”

I glanced at the white terry cloth bathrobe setting on the small wooden chair in the corner and started to itch when I thought about putting it on. Then, a devilish smile lifted my spirits as an alternative occurred to me.

I slowly opened the door to the sight of Hicks impatient face. However, he wore that expression for not even two seconds after I opened the door. Now he was dumbfounded.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you the way I’m dressed right now,” I said innocently. Still wearing that dumbfounded look on his face, I continued on. “Since it’s just us I figured I’d give my skin a chance to breathe for a while.”

“Yeah,” said Hicks, trying his best not to look me up and down. “It’ll probably help it dry up faster.”

“I’ll have to thank Sissy for washing my underwear; otherwise, I’d be walking around sans bra and panties…Alright, I’m going to take another Benadryl and lie down and rest for a bit. See you later.”

“Uh…yeah,” stammered Hicks.

I didn’t even take more than a few steps toward the hallway before I glanced back at him wearing a wry smile as fresh as the bottle of water in Hicks’ hand.

“I’ll have to thank Sissy for being so prompt about washing my undies,” I teased.

After teasing Hicks a little more, I proceeded down the darkened hallway. And barely halfway down the cool concrete floor there was hardly any dampness left on my skin to be evaporated in the warm and very dry air flowing past me. I made haste toward the end of the hall and opened an even heavier wooden door. I creaked my way down the desiccated steps and knocked on the steel reinforced door. The door opened to the sight of Sissy in a tank top and army fatigue-style cargo pants.

“Pizza delivery,” I lamely teased.

Sissy forced a raspy laugh before motioning for me to come inside.

I loitered for a few seconds, savoring the air-conditioned air caressing my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“Well hurry up now,” she advised. “Don’t let all of the cool air rush out.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Wow!” I said. “What a difference just twelve or so feet underground makes. If it had been this cool upstairs, I think I’d still be in the bathtub.”

“Barely have enough solar panels to muster up enough juice to keep the a/c running down here all day…along with other things.”

“It’s amazing that you’re completely off the grid yet you still have electricity.”

“Not as much as I’d like. We’re short a couple of panels. And a couple of the remaining ones are a little temperamental. Their motors are out of alignment and they don’t track the sun as well as they used to. So the boys are out manually aligning them so they make the most of the waning late afternoon light.”
No sooner had Sissy mentioned the unenviable task of aligning the solar panels under an unforgiving dessert sun that I could have sworn the LED lights brightened a little.

“Ahhh…” remarked Sissy. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

She walked over to the thermostat and pressed the down arrow a couple of times.

“That outta do it,” she said, strolling back over to me. “Now we can cool it down proper for the boys when they get back.”

Now the lights dimmed for a second as the a/c kicked back on. I savored the rush of clean, cool, and stale air while I surveyed this partitioned off basement.

“So,” I began. “How long have you lived here?”

“Goin’ on eight years now. Lived here ever since I retired.”

The air quotes she used for the word “retired” and the accompanying wry smile on her face had me leaning in to inquire further.

“Retired?” I wondered.

“Yep,” she said casually. “I chose the early retirement option. It was much better than the alternative that the government had in store for me.”

“What did you do?”

“I was an aerospace engineer for many years. You see, I’ve always been good at fixing things, at taking things apart and figuring out what makes them tick. You see, it just comes naturally to me. It’s what I was meant to do. I’ve been described throughout my life as exceptionally bright and gifted and other labels of course. And I’m not gonna lie to ya, I let it go to my head sometimes. But what the military gave my team and I to work on…to figure out, made me feel like an idiot child. It was truly an amazing, life changing, baffling and humbling experience, because whoever engineered the radically advanced technology was far smarter than me, my team, or anyone else on this Earth for that matter.”

“Ohhh…You mean to say…”

Sissy simply nodded her head.

“That’s right,” she said in a soft monotone. “Extraterrestrial.”

I stifled a laugh but her dead serious expression didn’t soften one bit.

“You’re serious?” I said. “You’re seriously not pulling my leg?” I said.

That wry smile lit up her face once more.

“Let me show you something,” she said. “Something you might find very interesting.”

She slid open the drawer of the end table which was next to the beat up sofa she was sitting on.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “But that smartphone doesn’t look very extraterrestrial to me.”

Sissy said, “It’s what’s inside it which is quite unusual and unique.”

She slid off the battery cover and pulled out a thin rectangular object. Aside from its sleek and shiny exterior, it looked rather unremarkable.

“So it’s some kind of battery?”

“Not just any kind of battery,” corrected Sissy. “It’s the holy grail of battery technology. It’s a high density direct storage battery.”

“Direct storage?” I wondered.

“It means the current isn’t generated by a chemical reaction like in most batteries. The battery is like a sponge which soaks up electrons when it’s being charged. And once fully charged, it releases those electrons at a steady rate, as needed by the device it’s adapted to.”

“How long will a charge last?” I asked.

“I was waiting for you to ask me that,” said Sissy. “You’re probably not going to believe this, but the battery in this smartphone, this relic from another life, has been powering it continuously on only one charge for…for…well, how long do you think? Go ahead. Take a guess.”

“I don’t know,” I began. “Umm…A month?”

Sissy’s chuckling told me I wasn’t even in the vicinity.

“Try over two years and counting,” said Sissy, with a measure of pride in her voice.

“Seriously? That long?” I replied.

“Yep. At this rate, it’ll outlast me. You see, it’s made of this nano-matrix of a room temperature superconductor. Think of it as consisting of layer upon layer of hundreds of thousands of tiny current loops. And as long as it’s kept at a temperature at or below seventy degrees, zero, and I mean zero charge leaks out. In fact, if you buried it fully charged in a cool place and came back in a thousand years, it would still be fully charged.”

“Wish I had some of those batteries. Then I never would have been late because my car didn’t start.”
“With a battery of this type the size of a car battery, hell, if there were enough bridges, you could drive around the world a few times…Not that the big oil execs would ever let that happen.”

“I guess not,” I automatically agreed.

An awkward silence ensued while I idly scanned the shelter, making note of shelf upon shelf full of canned food, MREs and jug, upon jug of water. Meanwhile, Sissy hummed an unfamiliar tune while tinkering with a HAM radio.

“What’s kind of range does that thing have?” I wondered.

“Plannin’ on callin’ someone?” teased Sissy.

I chuckled before saying, “I’m what you’d consider a modern girl…a bit of facebook and texting junky.”

Sissy shook her head and replied with a raspy chuckle of her own.

“What did I say?” I wondered.

“Nothin,’” replied Sissy.

“C’mon, you were going to say something. What was it?”

“I never much cared for relyin’ on big business to provide a service I don’t need.” Patting her HAM radio, she continued on. “The internet and cellphone networks can go down. Satellites can go offline. Hackers can steal your personal information (along with the NSA). But the ionosphere never goes down. The nano-battery that powers this baby puts lithium-ions to shame. And best of all, HAM radios are too low tech for hackers to get excited about.”

After fiddling with the radio for a few more minutes, she announced, “There! She’s good to go.”

“What were you doing?”

“Oh, just tryin’ to clean up the reception a bit…you know, minimize the background noise.”

“Aren’t you going to try it out?”

“Not yet,” said Sissy. “Later on tonight when the reception’s better. Besides, there’s no point being in a rush to hear about more terrible news.”

“Yeah,” I conceded. “I guess you’re right…Umm…How bad is it if you don’t mind me askin?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some shut eye. You look like you could use some.”

“Please,” I quietly implored. “I need to know how bad it is.”

Sissy sighed deeply and slumped into the plush sofa before reluctantly replying.

“It’s bad enough that a few of my HAM radio buddies have gone off the air. Now, I know a lot of people from a lot of different places across this country of ours, and every single one of them has informed me that the virus has spread to their neck of the woods. Now I can’t say for certain whether or not it’s spread to every sizeable city and town in the U.S., but if I were to bet, then…well, anyway it would certainly be one bet I wouldn’t be happy to win.”

As Sissy got up to begin inventorying the more than sufficient supplies, I asked the burning question on my mind, the one I already knew the answer to.

“What about Baltimore? Have you heard anything? I have a friend who lives there…a young woman named Alice.”

Sissy bowed her head, nodding ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m sorry…But maybe your friend got out before FEMA ordered a military quarantine.”

“She does have family who live in the countryside,” I mused. “Yeah, maybe she did get out…But if she didn’t…and she’s holed up somewhere…is there any way to get her out?”

“Karen,” began Sissy. “Maybe. But it would be about as hard as sneaking a healthy woman of childbearing age such as yourself through the main security checkpoint. You may not want to hear this right now and I know this is going to sound harsh, but you’re going to have to let her go. You escaped capture from the military once but you might not get away a second time. My advice? Don’t tempt fate.”

“To hell with fate!” I declared. “I didn’t come this far and endure so much terrible shit just to plop my ass down in this chair, put my feet up, and forget about someone who needs me, someone who’s probably scared as hell right now and feeling completely alone. To be honest, I don’t give a damn if I die trying. If I can save her, it would be worth it. Now I know you’ve gone way above and beyond by helping me…by helping us get to safety. But all I’m asking for is just a little more help. Please. That’s all I’m asking.”

Sissy sighed once more. Then she crossed her arms, leaned against a shelf, and mulled it over in her mind.

She said, “Why don’t you get some rest while I think about it. When Hicks comes down, we’ll see if we can’t come up with a couple of options…But don’t get your hopes up.”

I walked down the short hallway and collapsed onto a surprisingly comfortable cot in a room about the size of a closet.

The combination of cumulative dehydration, falling ill, and adjusting to a regular sleep schedule eliminated all protests from my guilty conscience. I was just too tired to worry any more. I fell into a deep sleep.

When I awoke what seemed like minutes later, I heard heated murmuring coming from down the hall, from what qualified as the living room.

Like a stealthy child wandering into a parents’ argument that had spilled over into a sleepy realm, the exchange between Sissy and Hicks ended abruptly when they caught sight of my bleary eyes.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“A few minutes past 1:00am,” said Hicks in a weary monotone.

“If you’re still arguing,” I began, “I can just grab a drink of water and head back to bed until you figure something out.”

“We’re not arguing,” said Hicks.

“We’re exploring options,” added Sissy.

“And?” I inquired.

“And…nothing so far,” said Hicks. “I’m sorry to say, but at this point, I just don’t see how we can make it in and out of the city right under the military’s nose. It borders on mission impossible…on mission suicide.”

“What about using the sewers or something?” I wondered.

Hicks shook his head.

“If there’s one thing the military is good at, it’s containment. They have much better maps of all of the sewers and tunnels and every imaginable subterranean entrance. And besides, I know the commander in charge of the Baltimore quarantine. He’s very, very thorough. Even if he did miss something, it would be because it wasn’t properly mapped in some database. If he missed it, we’d miss it too…Sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear right now.”

“Well, then there’s gotta be some way to get in touch with her, to find out what’s happened,” I insisted.

Then Hicks said, “Well, there is one option: it’s a compromise, but it may offer some closure.”

“What kind of compromise?” I asked.

“The aerial surveillance reconnaissance option,” added Sissy.
“What,” I began, with crinkled brow, “you mean like the drones the military uses?”

“And just as stealthy,” mentioned Sissy.

She motioned with her head to a curious object setting on top of her tool chest.

“The toy helicopter?” I said in an incredulous manner.

“Made it myself,” said Sissy. “Well, more accurately, I put it together myself…but with a few modifications of course.”

“Wait a minute,” I began, “Aren’t those things really noisy, just buzzing around overhead?”

“The operative word is modified,” said Sissy, with that measure of pride returning to her voice. “The same type of battery that powers that cellphone of mine is at the heart of the copter. It’s just as quiet as some of the drones the U.S. government uses to spy on its own citizens. Only difference is I use it for security, to patrol the perimeter to ensure that the only thing that sets foot on my land is the occasional scorpion.”

“So what do we do? Just fly it over the city to Alice’s apartment and hope that the blinds aren’t closed since we can’t knock? What if it gets hit by a bird or runs into a powerline or something like that?”

Sissy simply smiled and walked on over to the tool chest and gently picked up the helicopter. Handing it to me, she said, “You see that? It’s a camera. It sees things in the visible, near infrared, and infrared.”

“What’s that just behind it?” I wondered, like I was looking under the hood of a car.

“That’s the wireless transmitter. It streams the images live to a smartphone, a laptop, a tablet, or whatever you have,” said Sissy. “The images can get a little grainy at times, but it’s got a proven track record.”

“What about in a city? How will it perform there?” I asked.

“Umm…Even though I’ve never tested it in a high density urban area before, I’m sure it’ll do fine. The transmitter is pretty powerful.”

“It’s too bad this helicopter isn’t bigger,” I said. “That would certainly solve the transportation problem…Which brings me to the next problem. Other than traveling by camel, how are we supposed to get there? Is it even doable?”

“I know a pilot that may be able to get you close,” said Sissy.

“Aren’t all of the airports closed?” I observed.

Hicks and Sissy both nodded.

“And there are no-fly zones around all of them which complicates matters,” added Hicks. “And that’s where it gets tricky.”

“Define tricky,” I said, crossing my arms. “What are we going to do, land on the interstate?”

“Who said anything about landing,” said Sissy, in a dead serious tone.

“I know this a shot in the dark,” said Hicks. “But have you ever gone sky-diving before?”

“Whoa! Wait a minute,” I protested. “There’s got to be another option. Can’t we just land in a field or something?”

“Sure,” replied Hicks, a wry smile on his face. “On your legs, with a deployed parachute behind you.”

“That’s the operative word,” I whined. “Deployed. What if it doesn’t deploy? After all, it’s not the fall I’m afraid of, it’s the sudden split second deceleration.”

“Look,” said Hicks, “I’ve executed dozens upon dozens of jumps during my career. And I’ve trained others. And during that time there were never any incidents.”

“Well, you may be a master jumper, but I’m certainly not. I’m not even ready for that sort of thing and it would take too much time to train me. Great! Now what are we going to do?”

“You wouldn’t be jumping alone,” reassured Hicks. “You’d be jumping with me, executing what’s called a tandem jump.”

“What all would I have to do?” I asked.

“Other than strap yourself to me and come along for the ride, not much else,” said Hicks, half-jokingly. “You can do it. Trust me.”

I said, “I do trust you Hicks. I trust you more than any person I’ve ever known…Let’s do it. Let’s do it A.S.A.P.”

“Then it’s decided,” said Sissy. “I’ll go ahead and contact my friend.”

“Before you do,” said Hicks, “I just need the radio for a little while…to get in touch with someone.”

The way his eyes were glistening, I knew he was talking about his fiancée. Sissy and I both glanced at each other with mutual understanding before making ourselves scarce. I grabbed a cup of water and headed back to my humble accommodations while Sissy found something upstairs to keep herself busy.

When I awoke later that morning, instead of quenched thirst thanks to the cup of water from the cooler, my mouth was parched. Instead of loud whispering emanating from down the hall, there was only the hum of the a/c. And then there was deafening silence when it cut off for a much needed rest.

I put on my clothes which had been placed on the chair in the corner while I was dead to the world and then padded my way down the hall in my socks.

“Morning,” said Sissy, sipping on a drink with her feet up on the coffee table.

“Morning,” I replied. “Whatcha got there?”

“Coffee,” said Sissy.

“Is it regular or decaf?” I asked.

Sissy smiled before saying, “Regular’s the only kind we got around here. Coffee without caffeine is like a cellphone without any service…useless…Pour yourself a cup if you’d like.”

After getting a small cup I returned to the chair and collapsed into it.

“Where’s Hicks?” I wondered, scanning the room.

Sissy motioned with her head toward the stairs. “If you want to get some fresh air and stretch your legs, you best do so now before it gets too oppressive out there.”

I grabbed my cup and headed upstairs. When I stepped across the threshold onto the porch, I saw him sitting on the steps. Sitting down next to him, I offered him a cup.

“I probably shouldn’t,” said Hicks. “It’ll dehydrate you faster. Then again, Sissy shouldn’t smoke either.”

After taking a few sips, he handed it back to me.

“Thanks,” he said weakly.

“Did you manage any sleep?” I asked.

Hicks shook his head, continuing to stare at some unremarkable patch of brownness off in the distance.

“Are you gonna be alright?” I inquired.

“I don’t think alright is in my vocabulary anymore,” he said in a monotone as dead as some of the hues off in the distance. “What do you see when you look off into the distance Karen?”

“What do you see Hicks?”

Pointing straight ahead, he said, “I see nothing. That’s all I see now.” Then he stood up and made a sweeping motion with his arm. “It doesn’t matter where I look. Nothin’ but a whole lot of nothing, nothing, nothing, and more nothing. That’s all I have to look forward to now Karen: nothing. Without her I’m nothing. Jesus! What am I going to do now?”

Hicks cradled his head in his hands and wept.

“Oh God Hicks, I am so sorry for your loss,” I said softly. Rubbing his shoulder I said, I think I better head back inside. I’m sure you want to be alone.

“No. Please don’t go Karen. I think you’re the only one around here who understands what it’s like to care for someone more than you care about yourself, the only person who has an idea of the hell I’m going through right now.”

“I suppose. I do care more about Alice than I do myself.”

“I wasn’t just talking about Alice. I was talking about your husband-to-be.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly. “I can only imagine what he’s going through right now. He probably gave me up for dead a while ago.”

“I don’t think so. I think right now he’s torn apart inside from the agony of not knowing, and still hoping against hope that you’ll show up at his door with a smile on your face. I know I hoped against hope just like he did even though something inside was whispering that she was gone, that I needed to face reality. But I couldn’t. I put it off as long as I could. This is going to sound strange, but now I envy you, not knowing and still hoping against hope.” Wiping tears from his eyes, he continued on. “If I can’t get the love of my life back, at least I can help you get back Alice…and then track down your fiancé. Maybe one of us will have a happy ending.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough,” added Hicks. “Sissy got in touch with the pilot. We leave sunup tomorrow.”

“Good,” I said. I patted him on the shoulder before stretching my back. “I’ll see you inside.”

To Be Continued...

Hicks and Karen risk their lives to find Alice.

Chapter 7

The only thing louder than my heart pounding in my chest was the roar of the propeller engines when Hicks slid the door open.

“We’re nearing our drop zone!” shouted Hicks. “It’s time to buckle up!”

Nodding, I glanced at the scenery rushing by through the open door a little too long. My legs felt rubbery and weak and my vision began to blur. Then I felt that familiar acidic taste in the back of my throat. I headed to the back corner and vomited…again.

“Sorry,” I said, wobbling my way back to Hicks, all the while steadying myself the best I could.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “It’s your first time. It happens.”

“Yeah, well it’s been happening all morning. I can’t believe there’s anything left. God! I can’t wait until we’re back on solid ground!”

Hicks checked his watch. “In about five minutes, you will be! Okay, go ahead and stand in front of me. Closer…closer…closer…yeah, that’s good.

The buckles clicked reassuringly as he strapped my shaking body to his, taking the edge of my fear…a little.

As we stood at the threshold, feeling the air rush against us, my vision started to blur once more as Hicks prepared for the countdown after glancing over at the pilot’s signal.

“Good luck!” shouted the pilot. “I hope you find her, Karen!”

“Thanks!” I shouted. “We will!”

“Five…four…three…two…one!”

“Shiiiiiit….” I shouted as my heart dropped in my chest as if I was on a rollercoaster.

But this was no rollercoaster. A rollercoaster is controlled chaos. It’s safe chaos. However, being at the mercy of gravity was just pure, scary-as-hell chaos. Unlike Hicks who was calmly taking in his surroundings, all I caught were blurry snapshots here and there as we spun hither and thither.

And when Hicks pulled the shoot, the rush of adrenaline at being yanked skyward was greater than the rush of adrenaline when gravity had first yanked me downward. However, when I looked up and saw that the shoot had opened just as it should, my heart calmed down a bit. It did that is until I saw some powerlines next to the field we were aiming for getting closer and closer.

“Watch out!” I shouted.

“I’ve got this Karen. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

But I couldn’t relax, so I closed my eyes.

“We’re clear!” said Hicks. “Alright, brace yourself!”

Now it wasn’t the powerlines I was worried about. It was the beat up pickup truck we were headed for.

“Hiiiiicks!”

That old beat up pickup truck got a little more beat up when we landed square in the center of the bed of the truck. We slid to a stop with a thump.

“Ha ha!” announced Hicks with a measure of pride. “I must have jumped about a thousand times, but that was the softest landing I’ve ever had! Damn I’m good!”

“And I hope that’s the last landing I’ll ever have!” I exclaimed, trying to catch my breath.

Unbuckling me, Hicks said, “I’m gonna see if the truck’s got any gas left.”

Sitting upright and finally getting my breathing under control, I said, “Any chance I can just lie back here for a while why you drive Hicks?”

Hicks popped his head out of the cab, stepped out, and put his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Hicks, “but I guess we’re going to be on foot for a while until we can secure other means of transportation.”

“Whew!” I exclaimed, dabbing my dewed brow with a handkerchief. I put on my sunglasses and looked eastward. “Fifty miles to go. So close, yet so far away.”

“We’ll find something,” assured Hicks, motioning with his head for me to follow him toward the gravel road ahead. “We’ll get there.”

I picked up my backpack and jogged up alongside Hicks. The morning was nearing its end, but our day had just started.

We had to walk fifteen miles under a nearly cloudless sky until we found a ride, at a small used car dealership.

I waited by the side of the road, hidden from sight behind some bushes while Hicks crossed the deserted road. Hicks walked up to the front door with the superfluous “closed” sign on it and peered in. And even though we hadn’t seen a car in over an hour, he glanced around one last time, checking to see if the coast was clear before heading around back.

A few minutes later, I saw him emerge through the front door. He checked car after car until he finally came upon one with any fuel in it, an old Civic which had seen better days. But it started up like new. It squealed a little as he turned onto the road and pulled over to the side onto the soft shoulder.

I opened the front door, but Hicks said, “No. Get in the back.”

“Why?”

“So you can hide from any passing cars. We have to be very careful Karen. These are desperate times.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, rolling my eyes and reluctantly acquiescing. “Testosterone and a lack of women don’t go very well together.”

I got in and in no time, we were cruising down the road.

“Whew!” I exclaimed. “It’s toasty in here. Could you turn on the a/c please?”

“Sorry. Can’t do that right now. Even though we’ve got about half a tank, we still need to conserve right now.”

Despite my protests, I sweated it out along with Hicks for the remainder of the short drive along the nearly deserted road. I say nearly deserted, because we encountered a few cars heading in the opposite direction, but none with women in them and hopefully they saw none in our car. I hid just like Hicks told me to do. For a few moments, I wondered if there were any women hiding in the other cars, just like me. But a more likely scenario was one in which the lonely male drivers had attempted to rescue their girlfriends or wives, but were finally convinced to give up their futile rescue attempts in the face of the military’s relentless vigilance.

Hicks brought the beat up Civic to a grinding halt a few miles from the quarantined and barricaded city.

Hicks pulled out his binoculars and surveyed the perimeter while I watched helicopters in the distance patrol the outskirts.

I hoped for some good news about our chances of getting in. However, Hick’s voice was as grim as the expression on his face, indeed as grim as the expression on the MPs walking the perimeter.

Hicks sighed before turning his weary face back to me.

“Well,” he began, “It’s just as I expected. The perimeter is about as tight as a drum. Looks like it’s going to have to be plan B.”

“Come on Hicks,” I said. “There’s got to be a way in, something they overlooked.”

“I thought we went over this before. I told you, they’re not overlooking anything,” added Hicks.

“We can’t just give up that quickly. I’m sure if we did a little recon, we could find a way…some way to get in that you didn’t think of.”

“We’re not giving up,” assured Hicks. “We can still find Alice. But if we’re going to find her, we need to start A.S.A.P. because if she wasn’t living on borrowed time before, she probably is now.”

I glanced at plan “B” in the form of the “toy” copter with a raise of my eyebrow before answering Hicks. “Well answer me this: when we do find her with…with this, how are we supposed to get her out of there?”

Hicks didn’t answer me; instead, he wore a blank expression before lowering his head.

“So we just leave her there to die if we find her. Is that what you’re saying Hicks?”

“She may be alive and healthy or she may not be,” replied Hicks. “But you’re going to have to say your goodbyes one way or the other, just like me. At least you get the chance to say goodbye. I wish I was that lucky.”

I grasped his hand as he fought back tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss…You know Hicks, it’s okay to let it out. You still haven’t fully grieved.”

Tearing himself away from my comforting touch, he said, “I’ll let it out later. There’s no time for that now. We’ve got a mission.”

I simply nodded and gave him his space.

“Let’s go ahead and give it a test run, just to make sure there aren’t any glitches,” advised Hicks.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“You really think this will work?” I wondered, handing the helicopter to Hicks.

“As long as the meteorologists are right about the temperature forecast this evening, with Sissy’s direct storage nanobattery powering this baby, it could fly to Alaska and back without needing a charge…Alright, while we’re waiting for dusk, let’s go ahead and test out the camera.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“I just need you to monitor the video feed for me,” said Hicks. “I’m going to head east a bit away from the city. Just give me a shout-out if there’s too much break up in the feed. Okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

The test run went very well. There was little or no picture breakup.

When Hicks returned, he said, “I just hope we don’t have any issues with the infrared camera.” Surveying the locked down city, he added, “We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed and hope none of the larger buildings cause too much interference…By the way, how’s the battery?”

“It’s still cool,” I said. “I just put a little more ice in the cooler.”

“Good,” said Hicks.

He got back into the car. I heard a whirring sound as Hicks reclined his seat and laid back.

He said, “Wake me up just before dusk.”

Sitting in the front passenger seat while Hicks was quietly snoring away, I wasn’t worried in the slightest about nodding off and losing track of time. I figured I was too anxious and hyped up on caffeine to even close my eyes.

When evening rolled around, I began watching the thermometer which we had hung from one of the tree branches like a hawk. It was at 76 degrees and slowly falling with each hour. But it wasn’t falling fast enough for my comfort. I was on pins and needles waiting for it to drop below seventy degrees. And the waiting was more agonizing than being stuck in a traffic jam on the interstate during a heat wave when one’s a/c is on the fritz.

It might have been the branches around and above our car swaying in the cool breeze or it may have been the rhythmic sound of Hicks’ breathing that was beginning to lull me to sleep. Whatever it was, my cumulative sleep deficit was catching up with me. I dozed off. But the next thing I knew I was awoken by the distant sound of thunder.

Still bleary eyed, I yawned and stretched before looking at the clock. It only felt like I had been asleep for a matter of minutes but the clock said otherwise. It was half past six but the darkening sky made it feel later.

“Hicks,” I said, nudging him gently on the shoulder.

“Hmmm?” was his groggy reply.

“I think we may have a problem,” I said. “Look over there.”

Looking over his shoulder, he fixed his gaze on the threatening clouds to the northwest.

“This may actually work to our advantage,” he observed. “It might cool things off faster.”

“I can’t believe our luck!” I exclaimed. “They said there was only a very slight chance of storms this evening.”

“Since I met you Karen, it seems that slim always seems to win out for us.”

“Well, I just hope it moves through quickly.”

“It’s probably just one of your garden variety popcorn-type thunderstorms.”

Hicks got out of the car to stretch and I followed suit. The very cool air from the outflow boundary ahead of the storm reached us at about the same time as the darkening shadows below the racing clouds above. We both savored mother nature’s air-conditioning before the first vivid bolt of lightning.

“Damn that was close!” I shouted over the gusting wind.

We both looked at each other in mutual understanding and sought refuge from the storm in our compact car.

“Turn on the radio,” I said.

“Why?” wondered Hicks. “Most of the stations are just static.”

“Not the car radio,” I said. “Turn on your radio.”

“Good idea,” he said. “We can monitor some of the police and emergency management bands.”

Hicks scanned the frequencies while our ears scanned for something other than static.

“There!” I announced. “I think you had something. Go back a little.”

The National Weather Service has just issued a severe thunderstorm warning for the following counties and cities…

The radio began crackling and Hicks turned up the volume to compensate. But by the time the crackling subsided the advisory was nearly over.

…Affected areas and residents can expect dangerous cloud to ground lightning, small hail, and winds gusting to as high as sixty miles per hour. All residents are advised to seek shelter immediately inside a sturdy structure.

“Was the city mentioned?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Hicks. “But I could make out that some of the neighboring counties were.”

We hunkered down and braced for the worst, just like the military personnel in the distance scrambling to get everything secured for the coming onslaught.

After the storm passed, I said, “Thank God it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t your garden variety storm but then again it wasn’t too severe either.”

Hicks felt the window with his palm before speaking. “Either way, it’s cooled things down quite a bit.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go look at the thermometer.”

I grabbed a paper towel and walked over and wiped it off in order to confirm what my tingling skin was already telling me.

“Yes!” I shouted, raising my arms in the air. “Sixty-seven degrees.”

“Alright,” replied Hicks. “Good to go then. And we’ve got a good window right now.” Pointing in the direction of the barricaded main entrance to the city, he continued on. “They’re a little preoccupied with some downed limbs across the roads to pay much attention to what we’re doing.”

Picking up the helicopter from the back seat, he said, “Karen, hand me the battery and let’s put this thing into stealth mode.”

Hicks strapped the small battery onto the body of the helicopter with some Velcro and adjusted the mini-camera one last time.

“It’s show time buddy,” he playfully whispered to his new toy.

A warm smile danced its way across my face as Hicks set the helicopter on top of the car roof.

Offering me the remote, he said, “Would you like to do the honors for this inaugural flight?”

“Hmmm…” I began. “No. I think it’s better if you drive. I’d probably end up crashing it into a building anyway.”

Nodding, Hicks flipped a switch on the battery and then pressed the start button on the remote control. The helicopter whirred nearly silently to life and hovered whisper quiet for a few moments over the car roof, swaying ever so gently in the breezy evening.

“Hey Karen,” he said. “Go ahead and stand in front of the car if you would please.”

“Well,” I began. “This is a very interesting way to take a selfie.”

“Looking good,” he said.

With Hicks at the controls, he maneuvered the helicopter over my head and then over the rusty chainlink fence surrounding the weed infested abandoned lot adjacent to our position. Meanwhile, I grabbed a couple of towels and draped them across the hood and windshield of the car before lying on top of it.

“Why don’t you take a load off,” I suggested. “It’s going to be a long recon mission.”

Hicks took his place beside me after he nudged the copter on the proper heading.

“I’m going to guide her in from the southeast, across the water and take her in near the dock, near the outskirts of the city. Something this small shouldn’t arouse any notice. The coastguard will be too busy looking for rafts and small boats. But even if we do make it to her apartment without incident, there’s no guarantee she’ll be there.”

“We’ll find her,” I insisted. “We’ll find her.”

Once Hicks guided our own aerial drone past the dock and into the city proper, I really felt like I was on the right side of the hood of the car, for I became the navigator, telling him to head right on this street or go straight on another.

I experienced a wave of déjà vu when I looked over at the screen on Hicks’ lap.

“God that’s an eerie sight,” I observed. “It’s just like my dream, just like that horrible dream I had in the mining tunnel. I mean look. Where is everybody? Other than the occasional humvee, where did everybody go? I mean the streets are practically deserted.”

“There’s probably a curfew,” suggested Hicks.

I glanced at my watch before replying.

“This early?” I wondered.

But hicks didn’t respond to my questioning tone. However, about thirty minutes later, as we were nearing the stadium, he did respond to my demanding tone of voice.

“What the hell?” I wondered. “Why are there so many trucks lined up in the parking lot of the stadium.”

“I don’t know. Staging area maybe. But don’t worry about it. We have to keep pushing on. I think the temperature might be nudging up a bit…and you know what that means.”

“I’m not worried about that right now. I’m worried about what’s going on in there. And I’m pretty sure it’s not a playoff game.”

“Why don’t we check on it on the way back, okay?” suggested Hicks.

“No,” I insisted. “I want to check it out now. Just fly over top of the stadium and hover there for a bit, okay?”

I waited for a reply, but there was just silence.

“Okay?” I reiterated with more authority in my voice.

“But if I go that high, I’ll have to watch out for power lines on the ascent,” said Hicks.

However, despite Hicks reasonable objection, when he glanced over at the impatiently crossed arms of the somewhat unreasonable woman lying next to him, he quietly acquiesced.

“Alright,” he began. “I’ve turned around. I’m heading over there now. Just be quiet. I really need to concentrate right now.”

I simply nodded and stared intently at the screen as he started the ascent.

When he cleared the rim of the stadium, I saw him wince ever so slightly, partially confirming the grim scenario in my mind’s eye.

I took a deep breath and peered over his shoulder at the fresh images streaming live from our tablet. Then I instinctively placed my hand over my mouth to suppress a gasp. But I couldn’t suppress the tears from stinging my eyes.

“Oh no!” I quietly exclaimed. “Oh my God! The bodies are lined up everywhere. Jesus! I mean look, there’s hardly any green left.” I turned toward Hicks with pleading eyes. “What if Alice is down there. What if we’re too late? What if they’re placing her body bag on the twenty yard line as we speak?”

I rested my head on his shoulder and started sobbing.

“Hey,” said Hicks in the sweetest and most gentle tone. “She might very well still be alive.”

Hicks slowly panned the camera around, surveying the skyline of the city before speaking again.

Pointing to a spot on the tablet, he said, “Look right there? You see that? Look how many lights are still on in a lot of the buildings. And I bet there are still some lights on in Alice’s apartment complex. How’s about we head over there and see for ourselves.”

“Okay,” I said weakly.

Once Hicks guided the helicopter away from that terrible impromptu morgue, he said, “You really do care about her, don’t you?”

I nodded. “She’s like a sister to me. She’s the closest thing I have to family at the moment. We both helped each other through a very difficult time.”

“How did you meet her?” wondered Hicks.

“Since there’s no point in keeping secrets considering the world’s coming to an end, I might as well tell you. We uh…we met at an inpatient psychiatric facility quite a while back. You see, I had a breakdown of sorts. And Alice was being treated for severe depression.”

“It happens,” said Hicks. “And if you don’t mind my asking, how did it happen?”

“First, take this next right and follow this road for the next five miles. Alice’s apartment complex is going to be on the left…Anyway, getting back to your question, the circumstances that led me there strain credibility as they say.”

“Try me,” said Hicks.

“You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand.

“What about it being the end of the world and everything?”

“Because it might be the end of our time together if I tell you everything.”

“It can’t be that bad,” speculated Hicks.

“Look, the same reason I ended up in the loony bin was the same reason I got kidnapped, and the same reason I was whisked away to that lovely base in the desert. And it’s the same reason I could lose you just like I lost my fiancé.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” said Hicks.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. You’ve helped me out more than anyone else ever has in my life…Look, I’ll make a deal with you. After we find Alice, I’ll go ahead and tell you everything. Either way, we’re about to go our separate ways anyway.”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

The rest of the way down this dim and lonely road was mostly spent in silence aside from me giving Hicks updates on how close we were.

“Okay,” I said. “We’re just about there. Take a left onto the next side street.”

“Hmmm,” said Hicks. “Either the power is out, or nobody’s home. I’m gonna go ahead and switch to infrared mode. Which apartment does she live in?”

“Uhh…She lives in number twenty-one.”

“Alright, let’s go ahead and have a look through the front windows.”

“Do you see anything?”

“Not yet,” said Hicks. “But you’ll be the first to know when I do.”

“Maybe she’s asleep.”

“Maybe. Let me go ahead and fly around to the back.”

When Hicks put the helicopter into hover mode in front of Alice’s bedroom window my heart dropped in my chest.

“Oh God,” I said. “She’s not here.”

“Maybe she’s staying with friends,” offered Hicks.

“She really didn’t have any close friends other than me. She’s always been a rather introverted girl.”

“What about family?” wondered Hicks.

“They don’t live in the city. They live way out in the country and she doesn’t have a car.”

“Maybe she made it out before the quarantine,” reasoned Hicks.

“It’s possible but…I don’t know. Maybe she’s holed up safe somewhere. If only I could get through on her cell. Then we could find out where she is. If only the network wasn’t down.”

“Wait a minute,” said Hicks. “You said earlier that you were both at the psychiatric facility at the same time. Right?”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“They probably still have her records on file,” he said.

“Of course! They have her emergency contact information, don’t they?”

“Most likely,” replied Hicks.

“I just hope her parents haven’t moved since then,” I said.

“Only one way to find out,” said Hicks. “Ready for another road trip?”

I smiled as I got back into the car. “As long as you drive Hicks. As long as you drive.”

It was really frustrating. An otherwise scenic drive along winding roads that normally would have taken about an hour had already taken that long and we weren’t even half way there yet.

“Damn it!” shouted Hicks as we came around a bend.

He slammed on the brakes and the tires squealed, with the accompanying fish-tailing of the rear of our increasingly inadequate car.

“Great!” I said, throwing my arms up in the air in exasperation. “Just what we need! Another tree lying across the road.”

“They weren’t messing around when they issued that severe thunderstorm warning, were they Karen.”

“How are we going to get around this one?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he conceded. “This embankment looks a little too steep. If we just had four-wheel drive, then maybe we could make it.”

“Now what?” I said. “Now what do we do?”

“I guess we’ll just have to go on foot until we can find another vehicle. In the meantime…”

Hicks’ voice trailed off and I shifted my gaze to where his attention was captivated by something off in the distance.

“I think someone’s coming,” added Hicks. “Quick,” he said, rushing to the back of the car. “Let’s grab our supplies and head toward the treeline.”

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my damp shoulder as I jogged toward the shoulder, trying to keep up with Hicks.

When we reached the treeline, the hum of the engine of the approaching vehicle was getting louder. And the vehicle sounded much bigger than our humble little compact.

By the time the glare of the headlights would have stung our eyes, he and I were out of sight, but it felt as though we were not out of danger yet.

My worst fears were confirmed when the civilian camoflauge colored truck screeched to a halt in front of the obstacle and three burly redneck looking guys slowly and deliberately got out of the cab.

The driver said to one of the passengers, “Grab the chainsaw from the back and start cutting through while I check the car out.”

He pulled a rifle out from the backseat and began scanning the area adjacent to mile marker…well, mile marker whatever it was. Meanwhile, the third passenger climbed into the bed of the truck, shotgun in shaky hands, reluctantly prepared to provide the necessary backup. What scared me the most weren’t the firearms, but how rehearsed and coordinated the whole deployment was, like they had run into trouble before.

My heart raced, but Hicks grasped my hand and motioned with his head toward the firearm in his steady and practiced hand. Then he handed me his spare firearm.

“Just like I showed you, okay?” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine Karen. It’s just a precaution.”

But if everything was going to be fine, why did he hand me the fully loaded pistol in the first place?

“Earl!” announced the man from the bed of the truck. “Be careful. You remember what happened last time.”

Earl let out a guffaw, followed by a calm chuckle.

“Take a look at the car Randy,” said Earl, momentarily glancing back over his shoulder. “You really think the people who were driving this foreign piece of shit are packin?’”

“Maybe that’s what they want us to think,” replied his weary comrade Randy. “Maybe they’re just waitin’ to ambush us.”

“Quit talkin’ stupid Randy,” snapped Earl, reaching the front end of our car. “If they were gonna start some shit, they woulda’ done so by now.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that you can’t be too careful these days,” said Randy.

Ignoring him, Earl placed his hand on the hood of our car.

“It’s still warm, which means they probably aren’t too far away,” said Earl.

“You think maybe they have…you know, a woman with them?” inquired the third man, chainsaw in hand and anxiously awaiting the order from his leader to begin cutting through.

“What?” said Randy. “You lookin’ for another girlfriend already Dave? I mean Jesus! Her body aint even cold yet.”

“You son of a bitch. You gotta lot of nerve!” hissed Dave, acid dripping from every word.

Dave menacingly approached his fellow redneck chainsaw in hand.

“Hey goddamn it!” admonished Earl. “That’s enough. Don’t nobody start no shit right now. We’ve got too much stuff to do. Now go ahead and start cuttin’ through Dave. I’m gonna see how much gas they got left.”

The revving of the chainsaw startled me and some birds in the canopy, causing Randy to flinch. Meanwhile, Earl began siphoning the remaining gas out of the tank.

Randy made quick work of the tree, and soon he and Earl were rolling the debris toward the embankment. It hit the brush near us with a thunderous crash. Then Earl grabbed the large gas can off the hood of the car.

“Look how much I got,” announced Earl, sloshing the liquid around. “Talk about bein’ a dumbass. Anyone stupid enough to leave this much gas in their tank aint gonna last very long.”

“What an asshole,” I whispered. “Don’t you…”

My voice trailed off and my heart dropped in my chest when I looked over and saw only flattened grass and saplings where Hicks had been crouched by my side just moments ago. But my heart wasn’t the only one that dropped in its chest.

Randy and Dave quickly joined in on some laughter at our expense.

“Yeah Earl,” began Randy. “You hit the nail on…”

Randy’s voice trailed off. And when Earl shifted his attention back to his nervous companion, the smile had been thoroughly wiped off his face.

“Son of a…” said Earl.

To my and Earl’s amazement, there was Hicks, as silent as a big cat in the bed of the truck with pistol pressed against Randy’s sweaty forehead.

“Well,” said Hicks. “This dumbass would kindly like you to return his gasoline to him. But before you do, empty the bullets from your firearms and then toss your guns into the embankment.”

When Earl and Dave hesitated, Hicks cocked his pistol.

With a crazed look in his eyes, Hicks said, “These are desperate times and I’m a desperate man. And may I add that I’ve killed far more important people than you and have no qualms about adding a few more notches in my belt. Now do as I say, and I promise you’ll live.”

Earl nodded to Dave and they wisely complied with Hicks’ instructions.

“Good,” said Hicks. “Now lie down on the pavement and put your hands behind your head…Good…Alright Karen!” shouted Hicks. “It’s safe. You can come out now.”

As I stepped back onto the road, with rubbery legs, I took the first tentative steps toward Hicks.

“Karen,” said Hicks. “Go ahead and grab the firearms from the brush and don’t forget the gas can.”

After Hicks “evicted” his new friend from the bed of the truck, I made my way to the cab of the truck to join him.

But Earl just had to get the last word in.

“You may have my truck and our guns, but we’ll find you…no matter how long it takes, we’ll find you…you and your woman…You hear me honey? You’ll be mine soon. Mark my words.”

“I’m nobody’s woman,” I hissed. “In fact, I’m not really a woman. My name used to be Eric Campbell and I probably had a bigger cock than you before I got my vaginaplasty.”

I left Earl in his indignity, with that “at a loss for words, tongue tied” expression plastered on his grizzled and ugly face. But I was confronted with a similar look from Hicks when I smiled at him from the passenger seat.

As Hicks put the truck in gear, I said, “I was just screwing with him. Just thought it would be funny is all.”

“Okay,” said Hicks, his eyes nervously darting back and forth.

The tires chirped as we raced away from that terrible scene.
When the men behind us with their now raised fists in the air out of sight and out of mind once we went around a bend, Hicks glanced over at me with a wry smile on his face.

“You are full of surprises Karen,” he said.

“Well, Sissy did say I was a spark plug…And yes, I am full of surprises.”

I winked at him.

“You weren’t serious at all back there, were you?” wondered Hicks.

“You just can’t let this go, can you Hicks…Let me ask you a question: what do you think?”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure. Ever since I led the rescue team that found you that night, I…I’ve just always felt there’s something different about you…something…oh, never mind. It’s not important. I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready…if you’re ever ready.”

“Well when I do tell you, you’ll probably be as surprised as Randy when you snuck up on him in the back of the pickup truck.” I gave him a playful punch in the arm. “And by the way, for future reference, don’t ever do anything like that before giving me a heads-up first. You scared the hell out of me when you disappeared. I mean what are you, part ninja or something?”

“I made a judgment call in a deteriorating situation,” said Hicks.

“Deteriorating situation?”

“Yeah. It was either deal with them on the road or later on in the woods when they decided to come looking for us. Sometimes the window for the element of surprise is a matter of seconds and you have to act fast. And sometimes that means not discussing it ahead of time with the woman next to you, a person you care very deeply for, a person you would give your own life to protect. You’re that important Karen. Sometimes I think you forget that. That’s why I did what I did.”

I grasped his hand, fighting back tears. “Thanks Hicks. You’re an amazing guy. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” was his weak reply.

An awkward silence characterized the next fifteen minutes or so. The cab of the truck was as free of conversation as the road ahead was free of debris thanks to the hard work of our redneck friends so many miles back.

During the silence, I tried to play out the scenario in my mind, of how Hicks would react if I told him my terrible secret, the secret that not even his own superiors wanted him to know. But my mind was as blank as was the starless sky above thanks to the obscuring stratiform cloud cover.

Finally, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, I decided to tell him. The time just seemed right. Maybe it was motivated by our recent roadside encounter of how easily a person’s life could be cut short.

“I was only half joking back there,” I confessed.

Hicks remained silent, but I continued on, like one of those characters in a tragic play during a monologue.

“My name wasn’t always Karen Shaw. It used to be…Years ago…what feels like a lifetime ago, I went by the name Eric Campbell. But everything changed…literally…when I was duped into participating in project Eve 2.0. The only reason I took part in the project was because I thought it was reversible…plus I felt I didn’t have anything to lose…not like now. Things were very different for me back then. Now how do I put this…Basically, they turned me into a woman, and I’m not just talking about on the outside. They did much more to me. They turned me into a woman on the inside too…on a genetic level they say. Not even a doctor can tell me apart from a real woman. But can I have kids? I don’t know. So maybe I’m not as important as you think.”

The tears started welling up and I couldn’t fight them back anymore.

“You must think I’m such a fraud. I mean how do you feel?” I pleaded. “Lied to? Betrayed? Disgusted? Angry? I know my ex would if she found out about me. So which one is it? Please say something…anything. Your silence is killing me right now!”

“I do feel disgusted, but not by you Karen. I feel disgust toward the government for what they did. What they did was unconscionable. But…”

“But what?” I demanded.

“Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it was for the better. I mean, even as short as your hair is right now, I don’t see anything but woman…I always have. You’ll always be Karen to me.”

I started crying.

“I’m so relieved Hicks. Thank you. Thank you so much for not thinking I’m a freak or something. That’s why I was kidnapped. That fundamentalist group found out about me and wanted to kill me because they… because they…”

“I know,” said Hicks. “I was there. What they said was unforgivable too. If they knew you like I know the real you, they would never think that…no one would.”

“I’d like to think that Hicks. I really would. I just wish everyone was as understanding as you.”

“Does your fiance know about you?”

I shook my head. “I never saw the point in telling him. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” wondered Hicks.

“Because of some disparaging comments he made about trans-women and about them fooling men. But we’re not trying to fool anyone. I guess if by fool, you mean we’re living lives true to who we are, then yes, we are fooling people.”

“If he made those kinds of comments, why did you stay with him?”

“Good question…I don’t know. Maybe it was because I was so anxious to settle down that I focused on some of his other qualities. I married for love once, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again, because the passion eventually fades away. So this time I was just looking for someone who could take care of me, a stable caring guy who I could start a family with. That’s what I really want now, a family. I would like to bring a child into this world before I die.”

“You sound like my fiancee,” said Hicks. “The wanting children part I mean.” Hicks forced a smile. “She wanted a little girl so bad. She even had the name picked out.”

“What name did she decide on?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Hicks, coldly. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’d still like to know,” I said softly.

I could tell Hicks was fighting back tears.

“Melanie. Our little girl would have been called Melanie.”

Hicks wiped away a tear before it could course its way down his stubbly face.

“That’s a lovely name,” I said.

All Hicks could do was manage a nod.

Once again, silence characterized our drive toward Alice’s parents’ house. And I realized my hope of seeing Alice’s smiling face again was turning into a life raft in one-hundred foot seas. But like my chances of giving birth, I hoped against hope.

By the time we turned onto the long gravelly driveway leading to her parents’ two story house, it was very am. The cloud cover had subsided, revealing a bright crescent moon. But I didn’t know if it was waning or waxing, just like I didn’t know how the long I would hear the crunch of gravel underneath the truck’s tires as we gently bounced up and down while traversing the occasional pothole.

We came around the last bend and the house came into view. But instead of seeing the front porch light on, shining like a beacon, the only thing lighting up the front of the house (besides our headlights) was the feeble moonlight.

Hicks gently depressed the brakes and brought the truck silently to a halt, behind a sedan, the only car in the driveway.

“Wait here,” urged Hicks.

He reached for the door handle, but before he could open it I said, “Why are you bringing your sidearm?”

“We don’t know if that’s their car or not. Until I can confirm that the people in this house have the same last name as the one on the mailbox, I won’t holster my gun.”

He opened the door and stepped out, but he hesitated before he took his first step toward the house.

Looking back over his shoulder, he said, “If something happens, if someone gets the jump on me, head back down the driveway and get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”

“I could never do that!” I said.

“Shhh!” said Hicks. “Keep it down. You have to leave me behind. You’re too important.”

I rolled my eyes upon hearing that tired refrain again, but Hicks ignored me.

“Now I know I can’t give you an order, but just do what you know you should do if something should ever happen and head straight for the rendezvous point with Sissy. Okay?

I nodded my head, but inside, my heart certainly wasn’t in agreement with the more rational part of my mind.

“Good,” said Hicks. “Here I go. Wish me luck.”

The way Hicks approached the front of the house, it was like he was on some special ops mission, one of a highly trained team surrounding a house for an infiltration mission. And it was this approach of his which almost made the situation seem comical all of the sudden when he finally rang the doorbell.

My heart raced as much as I’m sure his did during the nearly unbearable silence which followed, a silence in which we both wondered who would answer the door, friend or foe, if at all. He rang the bell several more times, but there was no answer.

Then, he slowly opened the door and peered inside with his flashlight in one hand and gun in the other.
I was so startled when the living room light came on that I nearly jumped out of my seat. I kept waiting for a gunshot to echo through the house, but there was nothing, just that protracted eerie silence. After waiting what seemed like an interminable amount of time, I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed my sidearm and jogged on over to the front porch. But before I could even make it up the front steps, Hicks opened the front door, this time with his gun holstered.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car?” said Hicks.

“Well, you know me and orders. They go about as well together as oil and water.”

But Hicks wasn’t smiling at my lame attempt at humor.

“What is it?” I wondered.

Hicks sighed before responding. “I found a note. It’s addressed to you Karen.”

He pulled the folded piece of office paper from his cargo pocket and handed it to me, before sighing and walking over to the porch swing to give me some privacy. I sat down on the steps and read the terrible words which quickly had my tears dampening the white paper. I’m not going to tell you everything that was in the note, it’s just too heartwrenching. Suffice it to say that her father, who wrote the note, said that his daughter told him on her deathbed to tell me that meeting me was one of the best things that ever happened to her and that no matter what, she would always be my friend and always be with me.

“No, no, no, no!” I cried, as I furiously tore up the note.

No sooner had I started weeping, than Hicks rushed over to comfort me.

“I’m sorry Karen. I’m so sorry we didn’t get here sooner.”

Still shaking from the sobs, I said, “I’m not…I’m not sure it would have even made a difference.”

Composing myself somewhat, I pulled away from his shoulder and wiped away the tears.

“Where are you going?” asked Hicks.

“To say goodbye to Alice. Her father said…her father said…”

I couldn’t finish my sentence because I started sobbing again.

Hicks rushed over and embraced me once more while the dam burst…again.

When I cried myself out, in between dry sobs, I managed to get it out.

“Her…Her father said…He said…he buried her in the backyard…next to the tree swing…the one she loved growing up…the one he…Oh God! I can’t believe she’s gone Hicks. She was so young. She had a full life ahead of her. If there is a God, why didn’t he take me? All he had to do was ask and I would have gladly taken her place. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”

All of the sudden, I put my hand over my mouth and rushed over to the bushes. I could feel my stomach seizing and swelling up. And I was surprised at how much I had left, after having Hicks pull over on the way toward Alice’s parents’ house.

“Are you okay?” inquired Hicks as he hurried toward me.

I managed a nod while still catching my breath after such violent heaves.

“I think…I think I’ll just rest for a bit in front of the flower bed…Whew!”

“Let me feel your forehead Karen,” said Hicks.

“I don’t think I have a fever,” I said. “I don’t feel hot.”

“Hmmm,” added Hicks, checking my forehead a couple of times. “No, you don’t.”

“Maybe it’s something I ate,” I suggested.

“But we’ve been eating the same food,” added Hicks.

“Help me up Hicks, if you would please. I’m gonna head inside and use the bathroom real quick. Okay?”

When I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t help but force one of those WTF smiles. Then I rinsed out my mouth and washed up. When I looked at my reflection again, this time I shook my head, for I knew I wasn’t sick, and I knew I wasn’t suffering from food poisoning. Nope. It was none of the above. But now I was pretty sure what it was. If I could have found a pregnancy test kit in the bathroom, I somehow knew I would have tested positive.

I smiled and shook my head again. Apparently my sex education teacher was right about one thing: condoms aren’t one-hundred percent effective!

I turned sideways and puffed out my belly and gently rubbed it. I was going to be a mommy! But the thought of Alice six feet under tempered my excitement.

I walked back out onto the porch and joined Hicks on the porch swing. He studied something off in the distance while I continued rubbing my belly, letting out the occasional sigh.

“Would you like to meet her?” I asked.

“Hmm?” wondered Hicks.

“Alice. You can pay your respects with me if you’d like. I think I’m ready.”

“Sure.”

Hicks held my hand as we walked around the front of the house toward the backyard with the tree and its dangling motionless swing silhouetted in the moonlight. When we got close enough, I saw something else silhouetted in the moonlight: two crosses. I wiped away tears once more when I could make out the names carved into them. The one to my left was Alice’s mother and the one to my right was…well, you know.

I fell to my knees and started softly crying again.

“I’m sorry Alice,” I began. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m…”

Hicks handed me a tissue.

“Thanks,” I said weakly. “Alice, you see this man next to me? His name is Hicks…Say hello to Alice, Hicks.” Hicks forced a half-smile with an accompanying tired wave. “Without him, I would probably be by your side right now. Without him, I never would have made it this far. I would have never found out what happened to you, that you didn’t die alone, that your loving family was by your side until the end. Thanks to him I won’t be torn apart inside by not knowing…Alice, despite the pain and sadness I feel inside, I don’t regret my stay at the hospital because I got to meet you and watch you find your way out of the depths of despair and into the light where you belonged. Your sadness was my sadness, and your happiness was my happiness. You have left this earth, but not my heart. I will carry fond memories of our brief time together with me for the rest of my days. I know you are in a better place and will never know pain again. And one day, when we’re reunited, your happiness will be my happiness once more. Goodbye.”

Hicks helped me to my feet once more and we began the long walk back to the truck.

“Hicks?”

“Mmm hmm,” he replied.

“I was just thinking about how lovely the name Alice is. And I was thinking about choosing that name if I have a little girl.”

Hicks stopped dead in his tracks and grasped both of my hands, his face lit up with a smile as much as the sky was lighting up with the pale orange of pre-dawn.

“Are you…” he began.

I nodded while a warm smile suffused across my face.

“That’s wonderful news! That’s the first good news I’ve heard in a long, long while.”

“I was also thinking that if I have another girl, I would name her Melanie. What do you think Hicks?”

“I’d like that very much,” said Hicks.

Hicks and I walked hand-in-hand toward the brightening twilight sky to the east, as if we were an old married couple.

Although the sadness still consumed me, I felt unburdened. I felt like it was okay to feel and live again. I owed that to Alice, indeed to the countless women who had died because of this terrible plague. I vowed to honor their memories by living my life to the fullest, and loving with all of my heart.

Spring Break Gender Break! Part 1 - The Transformation By Drew Miller Copyright© 2015 By Drew Miller All Rights Reserved. When college-aged Alana talks her brother Andy into taking her place on a trip, Andy finds himself transformed by Alana's best friend Christina into Andie. Soon he learns that Spring Break is more than a break from the tedium that is studying and the unparalleled anxiety which is exam week. For "her," it becomes a break from the person everyone expects "her" to be, a time to break free from the shackles of masculinity, and a time when "she" makes the most important decision of her life, the decision of whether or not to transition!

Ring! Ring!

My cellphone ringtone pierced the darkness of my room. With nearsighted vision made worse by bleary eyes, I glanced at my clock radio with squinted eyes.

“12:45AM?” I hissed.

I reached for the phone and checked the caller ID.

“Why is she calling so late?” I wondered. I picked up the phone. “What’s up sis? This better be important.”

“Hey Andy,” she said. “Sorry to be calling you so late…or early.”

“What’s wrong with your voice Alana? You don’t sound like yourself,” I said.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m calling. It’s because I’ve come down with something.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But why are you calling me?” I asked. “Why don’t you just go the student health center?”

“I’ve already been there,” she replied in an even more raspy voice. “The doctor says I have bronchitis. Can you believe it? One day until Spring Break and I get sick!”

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but what can I possibly do?” I wondered.

“I need to ask you something,” she said.

I started to worry. I’d been fished in by this line before.

“What is it this time?” I asked.

“Why are you automatically assuming that I’m only calling because I need something?” she replied.

“Aren’t you?” I said.

“Yes and no,” she said. “Remember Christina?”

As if I could forget the tall, voluptuous, and beautiful girl that is Christina!

“Your friend from High School?” I said nonchalantly. “Sure, I remember her. What has she got to do with it?”

“She and I are…were going to Miami together on Spring Break,” said my sister.

“That sucks,” I said in genuine tone. “I guess she’ll just have to go alone.”

“Go alone? Are you kidding?” hissed my sister. “Christina’s a senior in High School. Do you honestly think her parents would let her go to Miami alone? The only reason they agreed in the first place was because I, the most responsible and trustworthy of the two of us, talked them into it.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “I’m trustworthy too, so much so that Mom and Dad are trusting me to house-sit and take care of Miss Kitty. So you see, because of a prior obligation, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she said. “I’ll arrange for someone to take care of Miss Kitty. So don’t think for one second that you’re getting out of it that easily.”

“God you’re being selfish!” I fumed. “You just want me to drop everything, throw some flip-flops and swim trunks in a bag, and drive her down to Miami?”

My sister let out a raspy laugh. It sent a chill down my spine.

Cough! Cough!

“First of all,” she began, “You’d be flying, not driving. Second of all…” She giggled before continuing on. “Second of all, you wouldn’t be bringing your swim trunks.”

I said, “I’m not quite sure what…Wait a minute. No way! No freaking way!”

“And why not?” she said innocently. “We’ve swapped places before haven’t we? Haven’t we?”

“That was totally different,” I said. “And it was years ago…It’s just a tad bit different now considering we’ve both gone through puberty.”

“Hmm,” she wondered. “I know I have, but have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“So I’m a late bloomer,” I said.

“A very late bloomer,” she retorted.

“It’s not my fault my rugged manly looks haven’t surfaced yet,” I protested.

“Lucky for us they haven’t,” she said. “Which makes it all that easier. I mean, with some padding for your hips, some boobs, and one of my sundresses on, voila! You could be my twin. My identical twin I mean.”

“It’s bad enough we’re fraternal twins and have to share the same birthday, and it was bad enough that I got mistaken for your sister all the time growing up. But this…this would be far worse. This has the potential to be humiliating. So I’m putting my foot down this time.”

“Well,” she said. “If that’s how you feel about it, then that’s how you feel about it. I guess I’ll just have to tell Christina that we’ll have to call off the trip, the trip we’ve been planning and looking forward to since before her cancer went into remission, the anticipation of which kept her going during her chemo treatments. I’m sure she’ll understand though.

“Damn it,” I muttered. “No. No, no, no! I’m not going to let you guilt me into it.”

There was a long pause.

“Hey Andy,” she said. “Remember that time I dressed you up and you started singing along to that Britney Spears song?”

“Why are you bringing that up?” I snapped.

“I remember how much Christina laughed when I showed her the video this one time,” she said.

“You’re bluffing,” I said. “We were alone in the house and I don’t remember seeing a camera.”

“That’s because my desktop was recording it the whole time,” she said.

“You didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t?” There was silence on the other end for a few moments. “You promised me no one would ever find out about that! You swore. How could you?”

“Sorry, but you were too adorable not to record,” she said matter-of-factly. “I bet my friends would think it was cute too and anyone else who clicked on the youtube link.”

I knew I was beat.

“Alright,” I relented. “Alright. You win. I would just die of embarrassment if any of my friends found out…or dad. I’d never hear the end of it. And I’d never hear the end of it if anyone besides Christina found out about what I’m about to do.”

“Don’t worry,” assured my sister. “No one else will. After I have Christina come over to the house to give you a makeover tomorrow, I doubt even she’ll be able to tell.”

“But what am I going to wear? I haven’t a thing to wear,” I whined.

“You’re starting to sound like a girl already!” she proudly declared. “But don’t worry. Just swing by my apartment. You can have my clothes, minus the panties of course. You’ll have to get your own.” She giggled again. “I’ve already got my bag packed and waiting for you.”

“But it’s a three hour round trip,” I whined.

“Then the sooner you leave the better,” she said. “I’ll see you in three hours…sis.”

Before I could object to such an affront to my “manhood,” she hung up.

I threw my covers off and stomped my way to the bathroom. The light stung my eyes. And my frame stung my pride.
Only wearing my boxers, it was plain to see that my sister was right. Even though I was 5’8,’’ I was only one-hundred thirty-five pounds soaking wet. I groaned at the pathetic reality.

I really need some boobs! No you don’t! Stop thinking that! Boys aren’t supposed to have these thoughts.

But the voice inside cried out once more.

You’re not a boy. You’re a girl! Stop pretending!

Now I was getting angry.

You see what you did sis? Thanks for dredging everything up. Thanks for forcing me to do this. Now I’m starting to get confused all over again.

“Damn it!”

I was fighting back tears now, so I splashed some frigid water on my face. Patting my face dry, I felt more composed, especially now that I wasn’t looking at myself in the mirror.

I threw on some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and headed downstairs. Miss Kitty greeted me on the divider in the downstairs hallway. I gave her a kiss on the head and she reciprocated with a purr.

“Don’t wait up,” I said.

I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

I returned home three and a half hours later. The traffic was almost as unbelievable as the situation I was in.

I wheeled my sister’s carryon into the house and pushed it up against the wall of the hallway. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even make it upstairs. I collapsed on the couch. The last thing I remember before nodding off was Miss Kitty using my stomach as a heated bed. Her purring lulled me to sleep.

The next thing I knew, the doorbell rang. If I would have been in bed, I would have put my pillow over my head and buried myself under the comforter.

“It’s too early,” I whined.

Ring! Ring!

“For the love of God, please just let me sleep,” I exclaimed.

As it turns out, my chances of becoming blissfully unconscious again were about as good as my chances of talking my way out of my present situation.

I heard a muffled voice coming from the persistent caller at the door.

“I know you’re in there Andy,” she said. “Please let me in. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us!”

With slumped posture, I opened the door. A young girl with short blond hair greeted me with a warm and relaxed smile.

“Good morning sunshine!” said Christina.

I would have objected to such an unnatural display of enthusiasm in the morning, but I was just too tired to think of a witty comeback. All I could do was groan like a tired parent of an infant who was crying all night. I motioned for her to come in.

“Looks like someone could use a double espresso,” teased Christina, stepping across the threshold.

“No,” I said. “What I need is a way to get out of this trip.”

Christina chuckled.

“My sister may refuse to listen to reason, but I’d like to think you’re more reasonable,” I said.

“Jeez,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know, a lot of people would like to have your problem of being given a free plane ticket to Miami and a free stay at a waterfront hotel right near all of the clubs.”

“True,” I said. “And all of those ‘people’ are girls.”

She crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall.

“C’mon,” she urged. “It’s just one week of your life. And you only have to be in girl mode during the plane ride over. Once we get to Miami you can dress however you want.”

“But I’m not even sure we’ll make it the airport,” I said. “I mean, do you honestly think your parents are going to believe I’m my sister?”

She held up her makeup bag and grinned.

“Girl,” she said. “When I’m done with you, I bet I’ll have trouble telling you two apart.”

“Hey!” I snapped. “Don’t call me a girl.”

“Fair enough,” said Christina. Christina headed for the stairs. “C’mon princess,” she said. “Let’s head up stairs and get you all prettied up!” Once we were upstairs, she said, “First things first. Go ahead and shower and shave…and that includes your legs Missy. And don’t forget to moisturize. That’s very important. She handed me some Bath and Body Works vanilla body cream. “We need to make you silky smooth. In the meantime, I’ll go ahead and pick out which outfit you’re going to wear.”

“Make sure you include pants,” I advised.

She shooed me away.

“Hurry up,” she said. “We’re burning daylight.”

About forty-five minutes later, I popped my head out the door.

“I’m finished!” I announced.

“Here,” she said. “Put these on.”

“Panties?” I exclaimed. “I’ll wear the bra, but not the panties.”

“Oh yes you will!” she affirmed. “You have to. They’re microfiber and a size smaller than you’re used to so that they’ll…” She cleared her throat. “You know, keep a certain thing tucked away.”

I must have turned beet red. I snatched the unmentionables and retreated back into the bathroom. My embarrassment faded away because, unknown to Alana and Christina, the few times my sister and I had switched places when we were younger weren’t the only times I had ever dressed up. Those few times were but a drop in the bucket compared to all of the “girl time” I had secretly savored when I was alone. But that was then and this was now. And right now, I was about to violate an oath which I had sworn to myself just over one year ago when I had bagged up all of my girl stuff and taken it to the dump. The pretty clothes were out of sight and out of mind, just like I thought my confused feelings were. But apparently, those feelings didn’t get thrown away like my contraband clothing.

I slid on the padded A-cup bra, savoring the sensation of the soft fabric sliding over my soft skin. With the white panties, the feeling was even more exquisite. The silky fabric caressed my skin, giving me goose bumps as I slowly slid them up. However, this luxurious feeling turned into disgust when I opened my eyes and looked down. With a shudder, I tucked away the “birth defect.” It was out of sight and out of mind, and judging by how snugly my panties were clinging, it promised to stay that way for quite some time.

I breathed a sigh of relief and poked my head out once more. Christina was still there, but this time she had a blue sundress draped over her arm.

“I said I wanted to wear some jeans,” I whined.

“If you want to pass, you’ll wear this,” she said. “Trust me. It’ll be much more flattering.”

Feigning outrage with smoldering eyes, I snatched it from her. But when I put it on, I preened in front of the mirror. I felt so much femininity radiating out from my heart that I couldn’t help myself. But I knew I had to keep a lid on it or Christine would get suspicious. I’ll tell you, stuffing that feeling back down was as difficult as putting toothpaste back in the tube!

After I managed to still my fluttering heart, she sat me down in front of my sister’s makeup table. She circled me, studying my every feature like I was a block of marble about to be chiseled into art.

“It’s time to do something about that hair!” she said.

She pulled out some shears from her bag.

“Can’t you just brush my hair and put some gel in it or something?” I implored.

“You need a more flattering style, something that will make your jaw look more rounded. Besides, your hair is shorter than your sister’s.” A smile lit up her face. “And I’ve got just the right style in mind.”

She started brushing my hair.

“Umm,” I began. “You’ve done this before. Right?”

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I used to work part time at my mom’s hair salon. So relax. I’ve totally got this.”

I tried to take her advice while she went to work, but I found it hard to relax in the beginning.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

I watched my dark brown hair pile up on the carpet. My heart dropped in my chest. But soon, I shifted my focus from the split-end detritus below to a wonderful sensation. Each time she ran the comb through and held the hair taut for another snip, the gentle pull on my scalp felt heavenly. With each pull and snip, more and more of my tension drained away. It was like a massage for my scalp. If I was a cat, I would have been purring.

When she set the scissors to the side, I have to admit, it was a letdown. But there was more pampering to come.

“Can I take a look?” I asked.

“Not quite yet,” she said. “I still need to add some volume.”

She put some mousse on her hands and went to work. The way she worked it and massaged it in felt even more exquisite than the comb through my hair.

So this is what it’s like to be pampered!

When she was done with stage two, I reached for the mirror, but she snatched it away.

“You’re still a work in progress,” she said. “You’ll just have to wait until I’m finished.” She rummaged through her makeup bag and pulled out some foundation. She beamed an eager smile. “Now it’s time for the fun part,” she declared.

She dabbed and spread, and blended and powdered. Then she painted on the lip stain. After that, she curled my lashes and put on my eye makeup.

“Look up for me,” she politely ordered.

I felt the eyeliner glide around my eyes.

“Wow,” she said. “You have such pretty eyes that I don’t even think you need any eye shadow. I’ll just go ahead and apply some mascara and then you’re done.”

“Thank goodness,” I said. “I didn’t realize being a girl was so time intensive.”

“You have no idea,” she said. “Voila!”

She stepped back and surveyed my transformation. She nodded in approval and flashed me a toothy grin.

“Oh, I’m good,” she asserted. “Damn I’m good! If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were Alana.”

I reached for the hand mirror, all the while trying to suppress a smile born of sheer euphoria.

“No,” she advised. “Go have a look at yourself in front of the full length mirror. That way you’ll get the full effect…but first.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of silicon inserts. “Can’t forget the chicken cutlets!” she said in a sing-song tone.

After she slid them in my bra, I stood up and walked to the closet. I slowly opened the door. I gasped at what I saw…who I saw. I was shocked at how good I looked. Did I say good? No, I mean gorgeous! The young woman looking back at me was a knockout.

“Watch your makeup,” said Christina.

“Oh, right,” I said quietly. I moved my shocked hand away from my mouth and placed it on my hip. “You’re right. I don’t even recognize myself. I don’t even think Alana would.”

“Let’s see,” she said matter-of-factly.

Click!

“I didn’t say you could take my picture!” I hissed.

I rushed over to snatch her smartphone away.

“Too late,” she teased. “You are just too cute! I wish I could be in the room when your sister looks at the picture I sent her.”

I felt lightheaded. I retreated to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

In a deflated tone, I said, “Christina, please tell me you didn’t post that on her timeline.”

“Relax,” she urged. “I sent it to her in a PM.” She studied me once more and sighed. “I wish Alana was going with me. It’s just not going to be the same without her.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind you know,” I said.

“I just spent a good portion of my morning transforming you into a runway model,” she replied. “Do you honestly think I’d put in that much effort if I wasn’t sure I wanted to go? If our positions were reversed, I’d want Alana to go. I’d be devastated that I couldn’t go, but I still wouldn’t want her to miss out. That’s one thing cancer taught me. It taught me that sometimes you just have to roll with what life throws at you. This is your chance to learn the same lesson. And maybe the silver lining will be that you come out of that shell of yours. Maybe this trip will do you good.”

“Maybe,” I whispered. I sighed, stood up, and forced a smile. “Carpe diem it is.”

“Great,” she said. “Alright. Now that we’ve got you looking the part, it’s time for phase three. It’s time to show you how to walk and talk the part.” She gave me a wink.

My heart fluttered at the thought releasing the femininity which I kept imprisoned within, but I was scared to abandon my little act of reluctance. I was scared to show the world the real me. At that moment, that shell Christine was talking about felt like it was made out of titanium. I had a long way to go, if ever I decided to transition.

I crammed for my debut into womanhood the best I could. The hip-swaying walk was easy enough, and to Christine’s surprise, quite natural for me. But learning how to talk like a girl was a different matter. After a half dozen trial and error attempts, I managed to fumble my way into the lower portion of the female pitch range. However, I could only sustain it for a few sentences. And it was for this reason that my heart was racing and my sweaty palms were gripping the steering wheel for dear life when I pulled up alongside the curb of Christine’s house.
I didn’t dare go to the door and ring the doorbell. That would mean being greeted by Christine’s mother, or even worse, her father, who would no doubt engage me in a conversation lasting more than just a few sentences. And thank God I didn’t have to!

I waited for the signal from Christine. The curtains of an upstairs bedroom parted and I saw her smiling face. She waved. I waited a few seconds and then got out and headed for the door. The red front door opened and Christine greeted me like her best friend, Alana. She embraced me and held me tightly. I glanced over her perfumed shoulder and saw why. Still in her terrycloth bathrobe, her mother was standing behind her in the hallway. It was all for public consumption.

Then, before I could help Christina with her bag, her mother spoke. What she said made my heart drop in my chest.

“What, are you just going to leave without giving your mother a hug?”

Christina rolled her eyes at me and smiled. She glanced over her shoulder and addressed her mother.

“I’m just trying to make sure we get to the airport with plenty of time,” she said.

“And you will,” she said. “Right after you and Alana come on over and give me a hug.”

I started trembling, but Christina whispered something into my ear to calm me down.

“Relax,” she said. “And remember, short sentences.”

I forced a smile, and with rubbery legs, I tentatively followed Christina down the tiled hallway.

It was hard to follow Christina’s suggestion to relax, especially since her mother was looking me up and down. And the questioning tone to her mother’s voice when she addressed me didn’t exactly calm my nerves either.

“Alana?” she said.

Uh oh! Busted!

Her mother continued on.

“Well isn’t that just the cutest hairstyle,” she added. “I almost didn’t recognize you at first, what with your pixie cut and all.”

“She’s like a whole new woman, isn’t she mom?” said Christina

Her mother nodded.

“And I love your polka-dot dress too!” said her mother.

“Thanks,” I said almost in a half-whisper. “It’s all part of my new look.”

“Your voice sounds a little scratchy,” said her mother.

Christina quickly interjected.

“Oh, she’s just getting over a sore throat. She’s not contagious or anything.”

Whew! Good save girl!

“Well thank heavens for that,” said her mother. “I know how important this trip is to both of you.”

Christina and her mother hugged.

“I can’t believe my baby is eighteen already,” declared her mother.

“And counting,” said Christina.

“Praise God for that,” said her mother. She wiped away tears before casting her smile in my direction. “Don’t be shy hon. Come and give your honorary mom a hug too.”

Her smile and her words left as lasting an impression on me as her intoxicating perfume.

“You take good care of my Christina,” she said.

When she pulled away, I chose the safest response possible, a smile and a nod.

“Okay girls,” said her mother. “Just one more thing.”

Oh Jesus! Please just let me get the hell out of here!

“Mom,” whined Christina.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, her mother said, “It’s just one picture. You’re growing up so fast. I’d like to get at least one more in before you turn nineteen.”

Her mother pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. Then Christina stood next to me by the hall table and put her arm around me, just like we were sisters.

I could get used to this!

Her mother snapped a couple of pics and then we were free! She still followed us out onto the porch though.

“You remembered everything, right?” she asked.

Christina nodded.

Her mother said, “You’ve got your tickets, ID, money, keys, and cellphone, and…”

“For the dozenth time mom,” interjected Christina. “Yes! Stop worrying.”

“Okay,” said her mother. “Make sure you call when your plane lands and when you get to the hotel. And don’t forget to post plenty of pictures from your trip!”

Christina rolled her eyes at me once more before nodding.

“I will. I promise,” said Christina.

“I love you baby!” shouted her mother.

“I love you too mom!” shouted Christina right back.

We made haste to my car. I pulled away from the curb and watched Christina’s waving mother retreat ever farther into the distance. And as she retreated, so did my anxiety as well.

“Thank God that’s over with!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe your mom bought it. I thought for sure she was going to figure it out a couple of times. What about you Christina?”

“Never had a doubt,” she asserted. “Like I said before, you and your sister could…”

“Be twins,” I interjected. “Lol…sort of. Now we’ll just have to wait and see if the TSA agrees.”

“Miami, here we come!” shouted Christina. “Woo!”

I rolled my eyes.

She was one of those “woo” girls. I may have secretly mocked her for it in the car, but so was I. I was as girly-girl as her, only I didn’t realize it yet. Soon I would experience that epiphany. Soon, I would learn that Spring Break was more than a break from the tedium that was studying and the anxiety which was exam week. For me, it would become a break from my assigned gender, a time when I would break the shackles of masculinity, and a time when I would make the most important decision of my life, the decision of whether or not to stay Andie.

Spring Break Gender Break! Part 2 - Bait and Switch By Drew Miller Copyright© 2015 By Drew Miller All Rights Reserved. Andy thought he was going to be able to go back into boy mode after assuming the identity of his fraternal twin sister, but when he and Alana's friend Christina arrive in Miami, Spring Break truly turns into a gender break for him because of circumstances beyond his control... very attractive circumstances that is!

“Have a wonderful trip ladies and thank you for flying with us!” said the ticket agent.
“Thanks,” said Christina. “Earth to Alana. Come on girl. Let’s head to our gate before they give our seats away.”

“Hmm?” I replied. “Yeah, right,” I said in deflated tone. “Hey. What are you grinning about?”

“About how the ticket agent didn’t even do a double take when she saw ‘your’ ID,” she said.

“Lucky for me,” I said.

Just then, Christina stopped and shot me a withering glare.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” she said.

“Not after I unpack my checked bag at the hotel I’m not,” I said.

Arms akimbo, she said, “Look, I went through six months of chemo…and radiation and surgery on top of that. For a while there, I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far. But I did. And now I’m here and I’d like to have a good time. Right now would be a good time to start. All I’m asking is that you be pleasant. Can you please do that for me?”

I couldn’t say no to those teary eyed doe-eyes of Christina, so I gave her a nod.

“Thank you!” she said.

We clicked our way across the tile in our cute wedges. Her stride was easy and confident, never
once losing her balance. Me? Not so much. She held her head up high, taking in the hustle and bustle of people and the numerous shops along the way. I kept my head down mostly, and not just because I was a little on the shy side. I’m thinking it had a little to do with the wandering eyes of male passersby, eyes which were no doubt mentally undressing Christina and me, the hottie that I was. For years I had heard women complain of this ad nauseam. Now I understood why. I also understood that ignorance can sometimes be bliss and I longed for my ignorance back!

As we neared the security checkpoint, I felt like when you’re on a rollercoaster right before the first big drop! However, like back at the ticket counter, I flashed my ID without any overly-scrutinizing looks cast my way. That part was easy, almost as easy as deciding between a passive x-ray screening or a pat-down. But after braving the gantlet of wandering eyes of horny young guys…and older guys, I opted for the opposite gender to discreetly feel me up.

I’d definitely rather have another woman screen me! Wait a minute. Did I just say ‘another woman?’ What I meant was ‘a woman.’

I really needed to change back into my boy clothes!

The security screener went about her job. I was so nervous, that if the “birth defect” between my legs could have crawled up inside me and joined his two “friends,” it would have done so faster than the 747 we were about to board! However, as nervous as I was right then, it was nothing compared to when I heard a voice to my right coming from in front of the x-ray baggage scanner.

“Excuse me Miss,” said the other security screener.

I prayed he was talking to Christina. It was only when he said the same thing a second time at a slightly higher decibel level that I acknowledged him with a sheepish smile.

“Yes?” I asked, walking over to him.

He was standing over my, I mean Alana’s, unzipped carryon bag. He discreetly held up a small tube so only I could see.

“I’m afraid you can’t take this on the plane,” he said. “It exceeds the number of ounces allowed.”

“What is it?” I wondered, peeking in.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire when I peered closer. And I’ll tell you why. It was a tube of lubricant, and I’m not talking about the kind used on rusty machinery!

Oh my God! What, was my sister planning on inviting the entire football team from her school back to her hotel room?

“Just throw it away,” I said in a whisper. “Must have gotten in there by mistake.”

But the screener gave me one of those, “oh sure, I believe you” incredulous looks.

I let out a nervous laugh, grabbed my carryon, and sashayed my cute little butt toward the seating area as quickly as my wedges would allow.

Christina rushed up beside me with a befuddled look on her face.

“What was all that about?” she inquired.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just want to sit down. My feet hurt.”

“Welcome to hell: population ladies,” she declared. “But you get used to it…BTW, you’ve really got that walk down. I honestly thought you were Alana for a second…which makes me wonder.”

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I lost my train of thought.”

Oh my God! Does she suspect that I feel like a girl on the inside? Stop it. You’re just being paranoid. There’s no way she could know. There’s just no way.

We took our seats. She distracted herself with her laptop, while I opted for my iPod. I was as generous with the volume as guys had been with their special brand of attention as of late.

It took me about ten songs into my play list before I thoroughly recovered from the shock and embarrassment back at the security checkpoint. No sooner had I gone into chill mode that Christina tapped me on my shoulder.

“What’s up?” I said.

She pointed to the terminal’s departure screen.

“An hour?” I whined. “Seriously? We have to wait another hour. It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, look outside. Do you see any clouds? I don’t.” I crossed my arms.

“Stop pouting,” she said with a smile.

“I’m not pouting,” I retorted. “I’m just...” I sighed. “Airports really aren’t on my top ten list of places I like to be.”

“Wait a minute?” said Christina. “Are you afraid of flying? Is that what this is?”

“No,” I said firmly. “It’s the crashing that worries me.”

Leaning in, she said, “I’ve got a Xanax if you need something to chill you out a little.”

“I don’t need any drugs!” I insisted. I must have insisted a little too vehemently, because I was drawing a few stares. “I’m sorry Christina. Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

But I was far from okay. My palms were sweaty and I broke out in a cold sweat. Flying was nerve-wracking enough on its own, but feeling like all eyes were upon me, the beautiful fraud that I was, was becoming too much too bear. I felt sick to my stomach. I had to get away, and fast! I got up as daintily as possible and made a b-line for the restrooms. They were the closest refuge.

I was beside myself, so beside myself that I went on autopilot. I walked in, but not very far. I froze in my tracks because now it didn’t feel like all eyes were upon me. All eyes were upon me! The way the men were staring at me, I swear, if I could have died of embarrassment, I would have.

With head down, I rushed out and headed into the “right” bathroom. I sought refuge in the nearest unoccupied stall. I fought back tears. I didn’t even have a chance to get myself under control before I heard a familiar voice.

“Andy?” said Christina. “Are you okay?”

I remained silent. Okay, maybe not completely silent. I think my whimpering gave me away.
There was a gentle knocking on the stall door.

“Andy? Is that you?” wondered Christine in the softest tone.

“I’m fine,” I asserted. “You should go back and watch our bags. They’re pretty strict about that.”

“I know,” replied Christina. “That’s why I’ve rolled them in here with me….Can I come in?”

I opened the door so it was ajar and addressed her in an equally soft tone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.

“Yes you can,” she asserted. “With a little help.” She dug around in her purse. “Here. Take one of these.” I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could protest, she cut me off. “Trust me. Take one of these, and I guarantee, in fifteen minutes you’ll feel as good as if you’re relaxing on a beach in Miami.”

She placed the pill in my outstretched hand and I downed it like a shot. Then, she smiled.

“I’m going to head back to our gate,” she said. “Just come out when you’re ready. It’s not like our flight is going to be taking off anytime soon.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I whispered.

After about ten minutes, the tension drained away. I exited the stall and glided out of the bathroom. I held my head up high like Christina. Apparently, the anxiety wasn’t the only thing I had left in the bathroom. I also checked that “out of place, impostor” feeling at the entrance.

I joined Christina in the seating area. Riding high on my wave of calm, I felt as if I could have waited another hour. Lucky for us though, our actual departure time was about the same as the estimated.

We boarded the plane, and I found out I was as much of a lightweight when it came to little pink pills as I was with alcohol. No sooner had we taken off and retreated to the safety of the tranquil skies than I dozed off.

“Andy? Hey Andy,” whispered Christina.

My head was resting on Christina’s shoulder. I nuzzled closer before answering her.

“Tell them I don’t want any peanuts or soda,” I said.

She chuckled. “I did,” she said. “Before we landed.”

I glanced to my right. The shuffling of passengers down the aisle confirmed it.

“We’re here already?” I inquired.

Christina nodded.

“Wow!” I declared. “Xanax, where have you been all my life?”

“Come on sleeping beauty,” said Christina. “Let’s grab our bags before you drift off again.”

We were treated to one last smile by the flight attendants as we disembarked.

“Enjoy your visit ladies,” said one twenty-something woman.

I didn’t even take offense at being called a lady. Can you believe that? In fact, it made my heart soar. I figured it was just a side-effect of the Xanax. And my soaring heart just kept on, well, soaring.

Now, walking to the baggage carousel, I was enjoying all of the attention from the wandering eyes of the male passersby. I was enjoying myself until we got to the baggage carousel.

At first, I was patient and calm. However, that all changed when all of the other passengers came and went with their bags and it was just Christine and I waiting in front of an empty carousel.

“Oh, no,” I uttered. “This can’t be happening. Of all the times for them to lose my luggage, it had to be this time.” I threw up my arms in disbelief. “Now what I’m supposed to do?”

“Well,” began Christina. “It’s not like you don’t have anything to wear.” She glanced at my carryon.

“Lucky me,” I said. I sat down on my carryon and held my head in my hands. “It was just supposed to be for one day. This carryon was just supposed to be a ruse. It wasn’t supposed to be my wardrobe. It’s Murphy’s Law I tell you. I hate Murphy’s Law!”

Tears stung my eyes and began to trickle their way down my face.

“We can still buy you some boy clothes,” she said. “I can put it on my credit card.”

Her words gave me little reassurance at that moment. I opened my purse and pulled out a tissue.

Just then, Christina’s face lit up. I turned around and mine did the same thing at a most welcome sight.

“Thank God!” I exclaimed. I picked it up and shrugged my shoulders in Christina’s direction.

“You see?” she said. “You were worrying for nothing.”

I wiped away another tear and managed a smile.

“C’mon…Alana,” she said. “Let’s go grab a taxi.” She gave me a wink.

At last we arrived in our room at the hotel. I plopped down on the bed and grinned.

“We made it!” I declared. “I can’t believe it. Whew! I don’t know about you, but I’m whipped. I’m just going to relax and watch some TV.”

Christina said, “I’m going to head down to the lobby and grab some snacks. You want anything?”

“Come to think of it,” I said, “maybe I’ll have that soda I never drank on the plane. Coke zero would be great if they have it.”

I thought Christina would be there and back in something like less than ten minutes. But when over fifteen minutes passed, I reached for my phone. No sooner had I sent my text message than I heard a knocking on the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m coming.” I opened the door.”

“Where are the snacks?” I asked.

“Sorry,” she said. “I kinda lost my appetite.”

“What’s going on,” I said. “You look as nervous as I did back at the airport before I took that xanax.”

Christina sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the air conditioning unit. She took a deep calming breath before speaking.

“Okay,” she began. “How do I put this? I was downstairs getting the drinks when I heard someone call my name from behind. At first, I thought they were talking to another Christina. I was like, there’s no way it could be him, you know at the same hotel. I mean what are the chances?” She laughed nervously.

“Was there another girl named Christina down there? Please tell me there was.” I said.

She shook her head before replying with averted gaze.

“Well who was it then?” I asked. “An old boyfriend?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “It’s actually kind of funny. It was my cousin.”

I crossed my arms before interrogating her further.

“And what exactly did you tell this cousin of yours?” I said.

“Oh, this and that,” she said. “Just the usual we haven’t seen each other in a while catching up type stuff…I asked who he was staying with and uh, he asked me the same.”

My eyes went wide. I was afraid to but I had to ask a certain question.

“And what was your answer?”

“Umm,” she began. “Well…”

“For the love of God, please tell me you told him you were by yourself,” I implored.

Her silence confirmed worst case scenario.

“Why didn’t you just lie?” I demanded.

“I had to tell him I was with Alana,” she asserted. “There’s just no way he’d believe that my parents would let me go by myself.”

“Why Alana?” I exclaimed. “Why not Andy?” I pointed to my checked bag. “Why couldn’t you just tell him you were here with me?”

“That would look even more suspicious!” she snapped.

“Not if you made something up,” I said. “I mean, you could have told him that I’m you’re gay BFF or something.”

“Well maybe he surprised me by showing up out of the blue like that,” she whined. “And maybe I was so nervous that I couldn’t think up a really clever lie on the spot. Did you ever think about that?”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. I’m sorry. I guess you did the best you could under the circumstances.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“All is not lost I guess,” I said with a wry smile. I forced a cough. “Too bad I’m not going to meet him because it looks like Alana just came down with a cold.”

“I’m not so sure that’s going to work,” said Christina.

“Why not?” I insisted. “It’s so simple it’s brilliant!”

Knock! Knock!

“That better be room service,” I said.

Christina pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

“Tell him to go away!” I hissed. “Tell him I have Ebola or something.”

“Shush!” she said, motioning with her hand. “He’ll hear you,” she whispered.

Apparently he did hear us, I mean me. I heard a deep muffled voice.

“Christina? Alana? Are you decent?”

It felt like all the blood drained from my heart.

Christina got up. Glancing over her shoulder, she whispered at me.

“I have to let him in,” she said. “He saw us come in together. He knows you’re not sick. I need you to be Alana right now.”

“As long as it’s brief,” I said.

“I’ll do my best to get him to leave,” she promised. “Just follow my lead. And remember…”

“Short sentences,” I interjected. “I know.”

I reached into my purse and dug around for the other half of that Xanax. I needed it more now than ever! I threw it back right as she opened the door.

Just relax girl. It’ll be over soon enough.

When the door clicked open, I broke out in a cold sweat. But I didn’t start shaking because I was captivated by what I saw.

Her cousin entered the room, all 6’1’’ and 190 pounds of him. And did I mention that most of that one-hundred ninety pounds was chiseled muscle? In fact, if he told me he was Chris Hemsworth’s cousin, I could easily suspend my disbelief.

He flashed me a warm smile before looking me up and down much like Christina’s mother had done earlier that day.

“Alana?” he said. “Wow! You look…great.”

I felt myself blush. I brushed some strands of hair away from my cheek.

“Thanks,” I said. “So do you.”

Whoops! Did I just say that out loud?

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Christina.

“I can’t believe it’s been three years since I’ve seen you guys,” he said. “We totally need to hang out and catch up.” Before I could even open my mouth to utter an objection, he continued on. “What are you doing for dinner?”

“Well, we uh,” said Christina.

“Since you don’t have plans,” he said, “why don’t you come have dinner with us?”

“Who exactly is us?” I asked.

“Me and a buddy of mine and his girlfriend,” he said.

“Will your girlfriend be joining you?” I wondered.

He smiled the sweetest smile before enlightening me.

“It depends,” he said. “It depends on if I find someone between now and dinner.”

“Oh,” I said breathlessly.

I let out a nervous little laugh. The way his beautiful eyes were fixated on me made my heart flutter, and strangely enough, made my fingertips tingle. The more he smiled at me, the more I smiled back. I tried hard not to, but I just couldn’t help myself. It was like I had a spell cast on me or something.

“Hey Ben?” said Christina. “Is that your phone going off?”

“Hmm?” he replied. “Oh yeah.”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had been captivated!

“I better call them back,” he said, rising to his feet. “So how does this sound? I know this great Mexican restaurant that has the best margaritas. How about you and Alana meet me in the lobby around six so we can walk down there together?”

“Sure,” said Christina. “Sounds fun.”

“Cool,” he replied. “Oh, and they also have live music. So, don’t forget to wear your dancing shoes…Just kidding Alana. See you girls later!”

“Bye!” said Christina.

I just sat there with my mouth open. I was completely at a loss for words. But after Ben left, Christina most certainly was not.

“Are you okay Alana…Sorry, I mean Andy?”

“I might be okay if you would have consulted me first before saying yes,” I said.

“Sorry, but it seemed like you were up for it,” she replied.

“Why would you think that?” I wondered.

“Please girl,” she said. “I saw the way you were looking at him. Your eyes were saying yes, yes, yes.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I was just being friendly.”

Christina suppressed a laugh. “There’s a difference between being friendly and flirting. And you were most certainly flirting, whether you want to hear it or not.”

“I guess I just liked the attention,” I conceded. “That’s all.”

“Can I ask you something?” said Christina. “Do you like guys?”

“What?” I quietly protested.

“It’s totally okay if you do,” she said. “You don’t know this about me, but I really don’t care about stuff like that.”

“If you really don’t care, then why are you asking?” I said.

“Because you shouldn’t deny yourself what you need…and deserve simply because of what others might think,” she said. She sat down next to me. “When I was being treated for cancer, I learned a lot about regrets. Did you know that the number one regret of terminally ill people was that they didn’t live a life true to themselves and instead chose to do what others expected of them? A non-genuine life is no life at all. And a life without love isn’t really worth living.”

I felt the tears stinging my eyes.

“Wonderful,” I quietly declared. “So basically my life thus far has been a non genuine piece of garbage.”

She grasped my hand tighter. When she did, the love and compassion I felt radiating from her did something to me. It shattered all of my defenses, including my stubborn pride. I placed my hand over my eyes and started sobbing.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Just let it out.”

“You think I’m gay, but…but I’m…I’m not,” I asserted. “I’m actually straight. Can you believe that? And you want to know why?” Her non-judgmental silence told me it was safe to confess my most terrible of secrets which had burdened me for as long as I can remember. “I’m trans…I’m transgender.” Pointing to my head, I said, “I feel like a woman…in here. I thought the feelings would go away but this damn trip has made them come back with a vengeance.”

I started sobbing again. All of the pent up pain and suffering from twenty plus years in the closet flowed to the surface like my tears.

“This may come as a surprise to you,” she said, “but I’m not really that surprised…And I don’t think your sister would be either.”

I forced a laugh. “I bet Ben would be surprised.”

Christina nodded. “Which is why it’s probably best not to tell him. Guys typically have a little harder time dealing with this uh, issue.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Christina? Would you pass me the tissues please?” I blew my nose. Forcing a smile, I said, “God, I’m such a wreck right now. My makeup must look terrible.”

“Do you still want to go?” she asked. “To dinner I mean.”

I nodded. “Surprisingly, yes. I feel a lot better now.”

“Never underestimate the benefits of a good cry,” she said. “C’mon. Let’s get you into the bathroom and I’ll help you fix your makeup. How does that sound?”

I answered her with a warm smile.

Part 3: Owning It!

We met Ben in the lobby. He was wearing tan cargo shorts, a button-down blue striped shirt, black sandals, and wrap-around sunglasses; meanwhile, I was still wearing the same sundress while Christina chose a fuscsia babydoll to wear with white capris.

Casual yet handsome, Ben escorted us over to the Mexican restaurant. We made the usual small talk as we made our way down the boardwalk. I kept trying to steer the conversation back Christina’s way, but Ben seemed to be more interested in me, even more than my T&A. By the time we were seated on the patio, it was becoming increasingly difficult to answer his queries with a single short sentence. Still, I was as flattered as I was nervous from this rather charming attention.

When the hostess led us to our glass-topped table, I knew I needed a drink ASAP to deal with my nerves from not only Ben’s attention but a lack of attention from the other members of our party who had yet to grace us with their presence.

Where the heck are they? He assured us they’d meet us here.

My mind still swarming with questions and what-if scenarios, a modestly attractive college-aged waitress with bleached blond hair and a genuine smile greeted us.

“Good evening,” she said. “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Christina said, “I’ll have a non-alcoholic strawberry daquiri please.”

Then the waitress looked at me with more than a friendly smile.

“And what would like Miss?” she asked.

I whipped out my I.D. from my purse and grinned.

“Since I am of legal age,” I began. “I would like a Margarita por favor.”

While Ben ordered a beer, Christina nudged me.

“Are you sure you want to be drinking right now?” she whispered. “You might want to wait for the Xanax to wear off.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand.

When the drinks arrived, Ben offered a toast.

“Here’s to the most amazing spring break ever in the most incredibly…beautiful beach in Florida!” he declared.

When he emphasized the word beautiful, he cast a smile in my direction.

Blushing, I said, “I’ll drink to that!” I dove right in with a couple of slurps of the tangy beverage. “This is like the biggest and the bestest Margarita I’ve ever had,” I announced.

Based on the perplexed yet amused expression on Ben’s face, I knew I had forgotten myself a little. This time, I took a few more lady-like sips. My taste buds were awoken as quickly as my femininity had been since agreeing to accompany Christina to this exotic spring break destination.

“I’m serious though,” I reiterated. “This is the Best. Margarita. Ever!” I gushed.

“Was I right or was I right?” said Ben. “I told you this place is good. When it comes to restaurants, I’ll never steer you wrong.”

Christina nudged me.

“Girl, you might want to slow down a little,” she urged.

“Relax,” I assured. “I’m a big girl. I know my…Ahh! Ah! Brain freeze!”

Christina rolled her eyes and smiled.

“So Alana,” said Ben, nibbling on a tortilla chip. “Is this your first time in Miami?”

“This is my first time in Florida,” I said. “And hopefully not my last.”

Ben said, “Do you…”

“Just a sec Ben,” I interjected. “Our waitress is looping back this way.”

“Another drink Miss?” she inquired.

With eyebrow raised, I said, “Ohhh yeah. This girl is thirsty tonight.”

Ben grinned at Christina.

“We’ve noticed,” teased Christina. When the waitress’s eyes landed on her, she said, “I’m good thank you.”

“And you sir?” asked the waitress.

Christina cleared her throat. “Ben,” she said.

“Hmm?” said Ben, taking his eyes off his smart phone. “Oh right. I’m good…for a little while at least.”

“Did they just text you?” wondered Christina.

“Yeah,” he said, in deflated monotone. “It looks like they’re not going to be able to make it tonight.”

“Oh,” said Christina. “That’s too bad.”

“So, do you want to place your order now?” asked the waitress.

“Might as well,” said Ben. “It’d be a shame to waste such a perfect evening as much as the other two chairs.”

“So what are you going to order…Alana...besides more Margaritas,” said Christina.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno…Hey. I’ve got an idea. Ben, why don’t you go ahead and pick something for me. You know what’s good here more than I do.”

“It’s all good,” declared Ben.

The way he said “good,” I got the impression he wasn’t just referring to what was on the menu if you know what I mean. My heart surged again and I hoped my cheeks didn’t redden too much in front of my new admirer.

“Okay,” said Ben, rubbing his hands together. “Why don’t you bring us three orders of texas fajitas please.”

I started rhythmically clapping my petite hands. “Texas fajitas, texas fajitas, la, la, la, la, la la la,” I sang.

“You have a beautiful voice,” said Ben.

I smiled at Christina, trying not to cackle.

“Seriously,” said Ben. “I mean it.”

With a devilish smile, I said, “Maybe I’ll do some karaoke later.” I dipped a chip in some salsa and slowly brought it to my full lips. Then I slowly and sexily ran my tongue across my salty lips. “Mmm…I ate some chips just to try it. I hope my figure don’t mind it.” I placed my hand on my hip.

“I think your dress might,” said Christina.

“Uh oh,” I said. “I hope Alana don’t mind it.”

Referring to myself in the third person elicited a raising of an eyebrow from Ben. Christina tried to allay any suspicion with a nervous little laugh.

“C’mon…Alana,” said Christina. “We need to take care of that before it stains…Excuse us Ben.”

I started cackling. “I’ll be right back. We have to go to the little girl’s room,” I said in a sing-song kind of tone.

Christina grabbed my hand and hurried me inside the restaurant as if she were my mother. The bar to our right and the row of tables to our left were like the shoulder of a narrow road. I played the role of the erratic driver. Christina steadied me as the wait staff weaved around us.

We reached the sink, and in retrospect, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, I held up the front of my dress and started licking off the residual salsa.

“Yummy in my tummy,” I said.

“Stop that,” chided Christina. She pulled my hand away and smoothed the front of my dress down. “The other girls are starting to stare.”

I pulled my ID out of my purse and flashed the three other girls washing up at the sink in a different way.

“It’s okay,” I assured. “I’m a girl. It says so on my license. See?”

“Sorry,” said Christina with an embarrassed smile. “My friend’s had one drink too many.”
With flushed cheeks, Christina started vigorously treating the stain. “Lucky for you,” she said, “I always carry a stain remover pen in my purse…There. Done. Like it never even happened.”

Swaying side-to-side a little, I said, “Almost.” I made a b-line for one of the stalls, relishing the clicking sound my wedges made on the tile floor the whole time.

Stepping in, it didn’t even occur to me that standing up was an option for me. It was like I was on autopilot as I hiked up my skirt, slid down my panties, and plopped on down on the cool seat.

Still assuming the role of the mother hen, Christina sat down in the stall next to me.

“Ahhh,” I uttered. “I’m peeing,” I quietly announced to Christina. “I’m peeing in the girl’s restroom.”

“Shush!” implored Christina.

Partially ignoring her, I started tapping my foot to a familiar rhythm. “I sat down just to try it,” I whispered. “It feels so right I can’t deny it.”

After tinkling, I joined Christina at the sink. Her silence sobered me up ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I do,” she said, forcing a half-smile. Like a mime, she chugged a few drinks.

“Okay,” I relented. “I’ll be a good girl and take it easy.”

“And try to take it easy on Ben as well,” urged Christina. “With those batting flirtatious eyes I mean. It may seem like just innocent fun to you, but…be careful is all I’m saying, especially when it comes to guys.”

“Okay,” I said, following her out.

If only my father was here to hear what Christina had just said to me!

We rejoined Ben. However, the recently reigned in “Alana” would prove to be as short lived as a summer night.

I sat down to the site of my entrée, and another addition.

“I took the liberty of ordering another Margarita for you,” said Ben.

“Thanks,” I said.

But there was no gratitude in Christina’s eyes. Nor was there a withering glare. I was as impressed with her restraint as Ben was with my ability to hold my liquor no doubt.

The hot Florida sun drifted toward the horizon. Spanish guitar drifted our way on the cool breeze of evening. As I digested, a wonderful feeling of perfect contentment washed over me like cool surf on a beach.

I sipped the remnants of my fourth or fifth margarita. It didn’t matter which. What did matter was what I was going to say to a certain request directed my way by Ben.

“I was thinking,” he said. “It’s such a nice evening and I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk along the beach with me.”

I looked over at Christina.

“Are you feeling up for it?” I asked.

It wasn’t until I looked into Christina’s tranquil contemplative eyes that I understood that if he were communicating via facebook, only one of us would receive the event invite.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” said Ben. “If you and Christina have other plans, that’s cool.”

“Don’t feel like you need to call it an early night on my account,” said Christina.

“Umm,” I said, meeting Ben’s hopeful eyes with my searching ones.

Christina yawned. “It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to go back to the room and take a hot bath.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d like to…the walk I mean.”

“Great,” said Ben. “Let me take care of the check first.”

Christina stood up and enjoyed a luxurious stretch like a cat during a sunbath.

I latched onto her like a child to its mother’s leg.

“I love you Christina,” I said. “You’re like the bestest BFF a girl could ask for.”

Christina smiled and whispered in my ear.

“Just be careful,” she advised.

I whispered right back.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant or something.”

“Shall we?” asked Ben.

A warm smile brushed its way across my face as the cool breeze brushed between my soft legs, rippling my dress ever so slightly.

We didn’t walk hand-in-hand as we stepped onto the cool sand of evening. However, I wanted so much for my right hand to grasp his instead of grasping my cute little tan wedges.

Umbrellas and chairs were being folded up and the stragglers were trudging their way back to the strip which was lighting up.

I spun around when we reached the shoreline.

“Wheee! Isn’t this wonderful?” I exclaimed. “I just love digging my toes into the cool sand. Don’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Ben.

“Do you want to see me do a cartwheel?” I asked.

“Maybe after we walk down a ways…that way,” he said.

The cool surf glided under the arches of my dainty feet, giving me a pleasant shiver every now and again.

With a faraway look in my eyes I said, “I feel like a little…girl again.”

“And I feel…I feel kinda happy again,” said Ben.

“Oh?” I wondered. “You’ve seemed pretty happy since I first met you.”

“I just figured maybe if I smiled enough, I might actually start smiling on the inside,” he said.

His smile temporarily retreated like the frothy waves an instant later.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I almost didn’t come down here,” said Ben. “I was afraid that every time I saw a couple on the beach I’d be reminded of what I’ve lost.”

Now I couldn’t help myself. I reached over and grasped his large hand.

“Well you’re not alone now,” I said.

Ben smiled. “I’m glad I came down,” he said. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you Alana.”

“Me too,” I said. “I almost didn’t come either. But I’m glad Christina talked me into it.” We gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. My heart started thumping in my chest and I could feel my cheeks flush. “Whew,” I declared. “I feel really warm all of the sudden. Do you? It must be all of the margaritas.”

“You did have quite a few,” said Ben.

“I know, right?” I said. “This place might as well be Vegas because I’m doing a lot of things I don’t normally do. I know this is probably hard for you to believe, but I’m normally quite shy.”

I stopped and gazed across the water at the pale pink-orange horizon. Ben stood next to me and we listened to the waves as they scraped and lapped the shore.

“I got the impression you were a delicate flower when I first met you,” he said. “But there’s nothing wrong with being shy.”

I shifted my attention to a lone seagull patrolling the shore overhead. I pointed to it.

“But there’s something wrong with being alone, and I should know,” I said.

“It’s no fun,” said Ben. “That’s for sure.”

He stroked my hand. I had never had my hand stroked before, not by a girl and certainly not by a boy. It did something to me, something I’d never experienced before. A delicious tingly sensation rippled through my body. Warmth surged within me, stirring my blood and reddening my cheeks.

He gazed into my eyes and melted my heart with a gentle smile. When he leaned in, I was completely powerless to resist. I closed my eyes and lifted up my chin.

When our lips touched, all I can say is wow! The localized tingling sensation was even more pleasurable than the whole body one. My blood stirred even more during the long passionate kiss. But that’s not the only thing that was stirring.

My eyes went wide with panic because of what was starting to reawaken…downstairs, if you catch my drift. It was trying to break free from its restraints as much as my passion had.

Stupid birth defect!

“I’ve…I’ve gotta go,” I said.

“Why?” wondered Ben.

“I’m not feeling well,” I said. “It’s not you. I had a wonderful time. I’ve just got to go.”

I turned and rushed away, kicking up sand the whole way. When I did, Ben shouted in my direction.

“Will I see you again?” he asked.

All I could do was manage a nod.

I darted back to the strip, wedges in one hand and the other pulling my skirt away from my hips. From the beach back to the boardwalk, and from the boardwalk back to the hotel, I was terrified “it” was going to break free from its restraints, so much so that I took the stairs instead of the elevator.

When I reached my floor, I padded across the carpet, fumbled for my keycard and burst through the door. My heart was still racing when I collapsed on the bed and started sobbing.

I directed all of my pain, embarrassment, and frustration at the mistake between my legs. I smacked it a few times, eliciting a few more stinging tears which joined the stream down either cheek.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I cried. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair. Why did you do this to me? Why God? Why me?”

It wasn’t until I cried myself out that I realized something was conspicuously absent.

I knocked on the bathroom door.

“Christina? Christina?”

But there was no one.

“I’d better text her,” I said.

My heart raced but this time in a bad way, a very bad way when I realized something else was missing.

“Oh shit! My purse!”

My first day as a woman and I’d already been absent minded enough to leave it somewhere.

Great! I’ll probably get my period next.

I rushed downstairs. But I didn’t even make it across the lobby when I heard a familiar voice echo across the marble floor.

“Forget something?” said Ben with a smile.

I rushed over to him and embraced him without a second thought.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

Now it was his turn for his cheeks to flush.

“No problem at all,” he assured. “But it’s really not me you should be thanking. Actually, it was Christina. She handed it to me shortly after you rushed off…Why did you rush off?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I assured. “I feel better now.” I grinned ear-to-ear as I clutched my purse closer. “Much better…Where is Christina by the way?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “All she told me was that she was going to hang out with a friend at a club.”

Arms akimbo, with incredulous eyes I said, “And what club would that be? The kind that looks the other way and lets impressionable underage girls in?”

“Sorry, but I’m not Christina’s keeper,” said Ben.

“Yeah,” I conceded. “Maybe she texted me about her change of plans…no, nothing.”

“Do you want me to help you track her down?” asked Ben.

“Umm,” I began. “Sure. Why not? Like I said, you know this place better than I do…Let me ask you a question. If you were a young girl in Miami who, let’s say just for the sake of argument, has a fake ID, where would you go?”

Ben beamed a wide smile.

“I don’t know about the young girl part,” he said. “But I do know a couple hip clubs that just might meet the criteria.”

“Good,” I said. “Let’s go before Christina goes all “girls gone wild” and ends up in a Youtube video that her father finds on the internet.”

“After you,” said Ben.

Now it was my turn to play the role of chaperone. I only hoped it wasn’t too late.

To Be Continued in Part 4...

Part 4: The Real Life Test?

Just like the previous clubs, Ben and I were enveloped by noise as soon as we walked through the door, layer upon layer of chattering noise and rhythmic noise. I had to practically shout to even rise above it, like a buoy on the water.

"Ben," I said, "you look on that side of the club and I'll search the other!"

"Gotcha!" he replied.

I asked myself, if I were a high school senior girl with a convincing fake ID in my purse, where would I go first? My "woman's intuition" guided me to a location almost as crowded as the dance floor.

The bartender greeted me with more than a friendly smile, reminding me that I was A-N-D-I-E, not the hitherto invisible A-N-D-Y.

"What can I get for you Miss?" he asked.

"Uh, nothing yet," I said. "I'm looking for someone."

The bartender nodded before he turned his attention to a bubbly blond girl. However, when he turned away, someone else turned his attention on me, a by this time, already loaded person I might add, a guy who was the epitome of the frat-boy archetype.

"Still waiting for someone, huh?" he began.

"Something like that," I said.

"You know," he said, cocking his head to the side, "you look familiar. You wouldn't happen to have a sister would you?"

"Yeah, I do," I said.

"Did you two come down to Miami together?"

I shook my head. "No, because she's back in southwest Virginia."

"You sure about that darling?" he asked.

"As sure as I am that my name is Andie," I said.

"Ohh," he said, leaning in closer. "Like Andie McDowell…And just as pretty. So is your sister."

"I told you," I said, "She's not in Miami."

"Then you must have a twin," he said.

I think the blood drained from face when he said the word "twin." Now it was my turn to lean in.

"I need you to tell me everything you remember about her," I said, my face as deadpan as my eyes.

"There's not much to tell," he said, leaning against the bar. "If you were wearing a different dress, then we could recreate the scene when she totally blew me off when I tried to buy her a drink."

"Is she still here?" I asked.

"Whoa, now wait a minute beautiful," he said. "If I tell you, what do I get in return? Huh?"

I licked my lips and forced the sexiest smile I could. Suddenly, I felt like a clone of my sister.

"I'll tell you what you'll get in return," I said. "Me not throwing a drink in your face."

"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You two are exactly alike. What, are your periods in synch or something?"

Rolling my eyes, I stood up. "You know, I'll tell you…"

After an evening of dealing with guys just like him, one after another, I was tired of being polite. Something within me broke. But before I could lay into this sexist a-hole, Ben rushed up to my side.

"I don't see her," he said. "Maybe she's in the bathroom."

I shot Mr. Frat-boy a withering glare when I spoke.

"I'm sure she is," I said, teeth clenched. "She must have needed another…tampon."

Ben's eyes were as perplexed as his cheeks were flushed.

"Let's go," I said.

"I thought you said she was…Aren't you going to check the bathroom?" he wondered.

"My feminine intuition tells me she's not in there," I said.

I rushed out of the club, fuming the whole way, and not just because I had just enjoyed a rather unpleasant initiation into girl world. Ben finally caught up to me when I reached the boardwalk. By now, I was leaning against the railing.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Ben gingerly, hands in his pockets.

I shook my head.

"Three clubs," I said. "We've been to three clubs and…zilch. I give up. My feet are tired and I give up."

"Hey," he said. "We'll find her."

"Or we'll get there just after she's left," I said dejectedly. "Or her friend has."

"I'm not sure I…"

"Never mind," I interjected. "It's not important."

"C'mon," urged Ben. "Just one more club. Even if she's not there, maybe she'll return your texts on the way."

"I don't know," I said, shifting my gaze back to the shimmering ocean.

"Here's what I know," said Ben, resting his arms next to mine. "If you don't keep on looking, you'll regret it if…that's not to say anything bad is going to happen to Christina."

"Actually," I said with a faraway look in my eyes, "I agree with you on that. I have a feeling she's just fine…with her 'new' friend."

Without even acknowledging Ben's confused and searching eyes, I abruptly turned around.

"C'mon," I said. "Let's get going before my feet convince me to change my mind." When he rushed back up to my side, wearing an eager smile, I said, "I'll tell you Ben, I wish wedges were as comfortable as they are cute. And I wish all guys were as nice as you…Whew! Being a girl is not for the faint of heart."

"Neither is being a guy sometimes," he added. "Seriously though. For example, there was this one time…"

But a female voice from to our left cut him off, a voice as high pitched as it was confused. I half expected to see a munchkin when I turned around. Instead, little Ms. Sorority girl was standing there in her little black dress among her sorority friends with their collective mouths gaping open.

"Ben, what are you doing here?" wondered the petite redhead. Then, with daggers in her eyes, she stared me down. "And who is…who is this?"

"Babe, this isn't what it look like," said Ben.

Now it was my turn for my mouth to gape open when I looked over and saw Ben squirming as much as he was trying to backpedal.

Ben's "babe" scoffed.

With kitten eyes, I looked at Ben and said, "I thought you said that you and her…"

The wounded girl said, "Think again, Miss…Miss…"

One of her friends interjected with a nickname of her own.

Cough! Slut. Cough!

Ben's eyes smoldered when he addressed is "ex."

"First of all Heather," he said. "She's not a slut. Her name is Alana. Second of all, we're not together. She's my cousin Christina's friend."

"Oh of course," said Heather, feigning innocence. "Like, that totally explains why you're defending her and the way you two were walking together like you were strolling down the beach. I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that you're here in Miami doing research with your professor."

Ben hung his head in shame for a few moments before speaking.

"Look," he said, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry I lied to you…about the research trip. I should have told you when it fell through. I don't know why I didn't. I…I guess I just came down here to clear my head."

The end of Ben's sentence hung in the air like the sea salt.

"Which head?" whispered one of Heather's friends.

Ben had completely forgotten I existed by the time he finally bridged the awkward gulf between he and Heather.

Heather stopped him dead in his tracks with the palm of her right hand.

"No," she declared coldly. "Not this time. I was stupid enough to let you lie to me once. I won't let you do it to me again…You know, what? Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better I break up with you here and now during spring break. Spring Break up. I was going to wait until you got back from your 'research' trip to tell you we're through. So I guess I'll go ahead and scrape the rest of our…the rest of our…whatever it was that we had, off of my shoe."

Ben opened his mouth as if to speak, but Heather cut him off as quickly as a light.

"Goodbye," she said. She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows when she favored me with a glance. "Good luck hon."

But I wasn't taking it as in stride as Heather. No, not one bit.

Ben put his hand on my shoulder when he spoke, or at least tried to.

"Alana," he said softly. "I'm…I'm really sorry that you had to witness that."

"So am I," I said weakly, tears stinging my eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"As far away from you as possible," I said, glancing over my shoulder, eyes glistening as much as the ocean.

"What about Christina?" he shouted.

I turned around and glared at his crestfallen face.

"Don't act like you all of the sudden care about her," I hissed. "You know, I've got an idea." A perverse smile momentarily kept the tears at bay. "Christina's single and apparently so are you. You two can hook up and lie to each other. And if you see Alana, tell her I said hi." I stormed off, but I still wasn't satisfied. "You know, it's guys like you that make me wish I was a lesbian!"

As I marched down the boardwalk back to my hotel, I was tired, sad, and angry, but mostly angry. I was angry I had been lied to by Ben, and probably Christina, and that scheming sister of mine. But mostly, I was angry because I had been so naïve. In that moment, I wished a certain "Britney Spears'" youtube video was my only worry.

I didn't make it even halfway back to my hotel before my phone buzzed. I reached for it and scoffed as much as Heather had scoffed when she caught Ben giving in to "restless penis syndrome."

"Seriously, she's getting back to me now?" I said.

I found the nearest bench and rested my sore little feet. I massaged them for a while before I checked the message. Turn about was fair play. If I had to wait, so did she. But my curiosity got the better of me before I loitered on the bench too long and risked having to endure another lame pickup line.

Andie, meet me at the Mexican restaurant. You know the one. There's something I need to tell you. Christina

"That's interesting," I said.

I reflected on how amazing it was with regard to how quickly Christina had come to think of me as girl, all girl, and nothing but girl. If my sister Alana was with her, and not simply a drunk frat boy's wet dream hallucination, I wondered if she would feel the same. It was time to clear the air as much as Heather had done earlier.

It was like standing in front of a mirror when the hostess led me to the table. Christina and her "friend" were as speechless as Ben had been earlier as I stood there, arms crossed and stiff as a board.

Shaking my head, I said, "You two are unbelievable." My sister Alana opened her cherry red lip-stained mouth, but I cut her off like an ungrateful heir. "Uh-uh-uh. I have half a mind to take a taxi to the airport and trade in my return ticket for an earlier departure…At least Miss Kitty wouldn't lie to me."

"There's a really good explanation for this," said Alana sheepishly.

"There sure as hell better be," I said, salvaging that stone-hard look of indifference that allowed me to survive the charade that was Andy for so long.

"Take a seat and we'll tell you," offered Christina.

"How about you tell me," I said. "Then I'll decide if I want to sit down."

Alana looked over at Christine and her pursed lips.

Alana said, "Should I or…"

"Why don't I go first," said Christina. She cleared her throat, never once making eye contact as she began. "You remember how I told you I was lucky? Well I wasn't lying. I am one of the lucky ones. But one of my friends isn't that lucky. Her cancer hasn't gone into remission; in fact, it's gotten worse, and it'll continue to get worse unless she gets the treatment she needs."

"Unfortunately," added Alana, it's an experimental treatment and it's not cheap. And it's not covered by her insurance either."

"Who is she?" I asked with softened expression.

"Her name isn't really that important," said Christina. "What is important is that you help us raise the money to pay for her treatment."

"Me?" I wondered. "I don't understand. How can I possibly help? I barely have enough money left over to pay my car insurance after paying my rent and buying my food."

"You're wrong," argued my sister, looking me square in the eyes. "There is something you can do. And from the moment Christina did your makeover, you've already started doing it."

In silence, I eased myself down in a chair at their table. My interest was certainly piqued.

"Go on," I said.

"Andie," said Alana. "I've know you've always been on the shy side."

"Until my little trip here," I remarked drolly.

"All the better," said Alana. "How would you feel about being filmed….not for a television show or anything, but for a docu-series about the lives of transwomen."

"About as thrilled as going out with Ben on a date," I said.

"Think about it Andie," chimed in Christina, with revived enthusiasm, "Now that you've come out to us, you could educate thousands, maybe even millions of people about what it's really like to be a transwoman. You and the other girls in the docu-series could leave people with a positive impression."

"She's right," said Alana. "Some people's minds have been poisoned by the Jerry Springer freak portrayal or their own religion…or both. You have the opportunity to be the antidote, to show everyone you're just like any other woman."

"Oh I bet," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm sure I could tell people all about what it's like to be a transwoman; after all, I have so much experience…wow, almost twenty-four hours," I said, glancing at my cellphone.

"I know you're afraid," said Alana. "And I also know you're angry…at me mostly. But please, for Christina's friend's sake and more importantly for your sake, think it over before you go rushing off to the airport. Here…Check out this facebook page on my smartphone."

"I see I have something in common with the director," I said. "She looks amazing. She must be fully transitioned."

I am so jealous of her!

"But she wants to show people what it's like to be in transition," said Alana.

I handed Alana back her smartphone, at which point the waiter showed up, checking up on us girls.

"Can I bring you something to drink Miss?" he asked.

I shook my head. It wasn't until after he left that I managed a weak reply.

"I need some time to think about it," I said, studying my nails.

I rose to my feet as silently as a whisper. There was only the sound of my dress rippling in the breeze.

Unlike everyone else lately, I didn't lie. I didn't rush back to the hotel room, stuff all of "my" clothes back into my cramped carryon, and then wave down a taxi. I strolled toward the empty beach, its wavy sand like a miniature version of the Sahara. It quickly became my own private Oasis.

I stood where sun-baked sand meets ocean-refreshed grains. On this coolness, I pondered the gray-area that was the gender limbo I was in. The soft approach of footsteps after what seemed, to me, like only a few minutes, broke the spell the waxing and waning ocean held over me. And I prayed they weren't Ben's…or Heather's footsteps.

I said, "Alana, I thought I told you I wanted to be alone.

"You were," she said. "For over fifteen minutes. Besides, it's not safe for a girl to be all alone on a beach this time of the night."

"At least I already learned what pricks guys can be," I said.

"Not all," remarked Alana, staring off at her own spot on the horizon.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" I asked. "I'm a big girl…transwoman. Whatever label I fall under. I would never do something like this to you Alana."

"You wouldn't have done anything period unless Christina and I had given you a kick in your complacency."

I tried to protest with outraged eyes, but Alana, arms akimbo, stared me down with the look she had learned so well from our mother.

"You know it's true," she said. "Your life would continue to consist of holing yourself up in your room and playing video games and watching TV with Miss Kitty on your lap as she licks off the potato chip crumbs from your wrinkled t-shirt."

"So what?" I hissed. "It was my choice. Okay? It was my choice."

"So why did you choose to be miserable?" asked my sister in a voice as soft as silk.

"Why do you think?" I said. "Because it was uncomplicated. Was I unhappy? Yes. Were things easier…sort of…I guess."

"But aren't things easier now, now that you're able to be yourself?" she asked.

I was as silent as the stars shining above, as silent as God had always been in my life up until now.

"I want to show you something Andie," she said.

Alana slowly unzipped her purse. She reached in with her perfectly manicured pink nails and pulled out something rather unremarkable.

"What is that?" I asked. "Your plane ticket?"

Alana shook her head as gently as an evening Miami breeze.

"I snatched the folded sheet of dingy white computer paper from her outstretched hand. I couldn't even get past the first few sentences before tears dampened the paper.

"Where did you get this? Where?" I snapped.

"After you disappeared," she said, head bowed like a guilty child. "You know, the incident mom and dad never ever talk about."

"Jesus," I said. "Five years later and I'm still hearing about it. First, the video of me doing my best Brittany Spears imitation and now this. Let me ask you something. Is there anything in my room you haven't gone through? Do I have any privacy?"

"Privacy is for the living," said Alana. "When you disappeared, we didn't hear from you for almost a week, a week Andy. We thought you were dead. Mom and Dad kept waiting for a police officer to come knocking and tell them they had to come down to identify your body. Mom and dad didn't sleep for days. Neither did I."

"I'm sorry," I cried. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry I just started driving and wound up all the way in California. It was stupid, I know. But that didn't give you the right to go through my computer."

"You should be grateful I did," said Alana. "I found that note you wrote before mom and dad did, and deleted it."

"But not before you printed it out," I said.

Alana's eyes took on a faraway look before she broke an uncomfortable silence.

"Before I read the note, I always suspected," she said. "I always knew you were different than all of my friends' brothers. The note just confirmed it. But I had no idea how much trying to be a boy was hurting you, how much being what everyone expected you to be was tearing you up inside. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to be in so much pain for so long." She wiped away a tear.

"If you knew how much I was hurting, then why didn't you say something earlier?" I asked in weary tone. "Why?"

"Because I had no right to try and drag you kicking and screaming out of the closet," she said. "I knew you had to decide when the time was right."

"Or have someone decide it for me," I said, arms crossed. "Tell me something Alana, do you think mom and dad suspect, you know, that they really have a daughter instead of a son?"

"Hmmm," mused Alana. "If anything, I think they think you're gay."

"Gay?" I whined.

"Think about it," said Alana. "I mean, when was the last time you brought a girl home?"

"What about senior year, at Prom?" I said.

Alana chuckled.

"That went well," she said, rolling her eyes.

"How would you know?" I said, in indignant tone.

"Duh, I was there, remember?" she said, crossing her tanned arms. "She was practically throwing herself at you; in fact, later on she confided in me that you could barely stand to kiss her on the cheek…It's actually kind of funny. She thought she was cursed to be a gay magnet."

"I don't think mom and dad would think it was that funny," I said.

"It's okay to like guys," said Alana matter-of-factly. "Lord knows I have over the years. And it's okay to be transgender."

"Too bad everyone doesn't feel the same way," I said.

I eased my way down onto the sand which sparkled in the moonlight, and gazed off into the distance at a passing ship.

Alana sat down next to me and gently grasped my soft hand. She spoke to me as gently as the waves were lapping the shore.

"Mom and dad love you just like I do," said Alana. "They'll come around."

"After dad recovers from his stroke from the shock," I joked.

"From what I've learned from all of the support group sites, fathers typically have a more difficult time accepting their new daughter." She smiled before saying, "But I hear sisters have an easier time with it, twin sisters at least." She gave me a wink.

Alana's words and her embrace were as reassuring to my troubled mind as the waves and gentle breeze were comforting. The smile she coaxed out of me was as warm as hers.

"I love you Alana," I said.

I love you too sis," she replied. "By the way, have you decided on a name yet?"

"Maybe you can help me with that," I said. "I'll need one for the documentary."

"Well," she began. "For the time being, come on A-N-D-I-E. The night is still young. Let's make this girl's night out one to remember!"

We got up and walked hand-in-hand back to the gleaming strip. It was like a switch had been flipped in my troubled mind. All of the sudden, I felt truly alive for the first time in my life. I was as unburdened as a little child building a sand castle on the beach.

Daniel Davis has no clue as to what kind of person he really is and all he knows is that he's inexplicably miserable despite having a loving wife, wonderful young daughter, and a good job. But all that begins to change when a psychologist gives him an explanation for the huge gaps in his memory.

Chapter 1

“How would I describe my life now? That’s a good question. If it were a drink, just like water it’d be tasteless and unremarkable. If it were a smell, it would be a smell like the stale air-conditioned air that blows out of the vent of my car. And if it were a sound, it would be…it would be…I guess it would be like the static sound from a useless old television set, you know, that reassuring sound that fills a room when you’re dozing off, the kind that you can easily tune out, just like me. I’m easily tuned out and my life is stale. I’m just sort of there all the time, just breathing stale air and taking up space, like a zombie. Actually, I think a zombie would feel more than me at this point.”

“Hmmm,” mused my psychologist, brushing a few strands of long sandy blonde hair away from her eyes. “You do seem a bit…sedated.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Are you currently taking any medications Mr. Davis…prescribed or otherwise?”

I shook my head. But there was no need to brush any strands of beautiful silky hair away from my forehead. My full head of dark hair was close cropped as usual.

“Well,” began my therapist, “You told me how your life is, how numb and detached you feel. But let me ask you this: how would you like your life to be?”

“I don’t know,” I began. “Just not like this. Just not the way things are. I just…I just…”

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and I had no choice but to succumb to the wave of sadness welling up from deep within some dark and hidden place.

“Oh God!” I exclaimed before I started weeping. “I just want to die. I feel so miserable all of the time that I just want to die. And the worst part is all of the pretending. You know, having to pretend to my wife and our child and my coworkers and all of my friends that I’m fine, that I’m happy with my life and everything I’ve accomplished. I should be. I know I should be. I’ve been blessed with quite a lot in my life, which makes me feel guilty about feeling the way I do…all the time. I mean, why am I not happy? I should be, right? I just don’t know anymore. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“First of all,” said my therapist, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Clearly, there’s something buried within you…possibly from the past that’s interfering with your ability to appreciate and enjoy the present. Now, let me ask you something, when was the last time you remember being happy…or at the very least, content a good deal of the time.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno. It seems like I’ve been feeling this way for a very long time…so long that I can’t remember what it was like to ever feel happy.”

“Just try. Think back to your childhood and focus. You must have some happy memories from then.”

“Ummm…I don’t know…I really can’t remember that far back.”

“Are you sure about that? Do you remember anything from middle school?”

I furrowed my brow and concentrated, but then shook my head when, once more, I drew a complete blank.

“What about High School? Surely you must have some memories from such relatively recent events.”

“Not really. I remember a fragment here and there, but not much else. It’s probably for the best anyway. I was a loner. That much I do remember.”

“Why were you a loner?” wondered my therapist.

I sighed before saying, “Dunno. I’ve always been a bit on the shy side. I guess I just felt that I never fit in…with anyone. That’s my life story. There’s something about me that’s just…well just different. I knew it then and I know it now and I just can’t seem to shake it, this sense of wrongness that I feel with every fiber of my being.”

“Please tell me more about this sense of wrongness. Can you be more specific?”

“It’s hard to explain. I know it sounds crazy, but all of my life, the parts I remember I mean, it almost feels like I’ve been living someone else’s life, like I’m always looking at the world through someone else’s eyes.” After dabbing some remnant wetness from my face with some tissues sitting on the table next to my plush chair, I met the inquisitive eyes of my therapist with dry and weary ones of my own. “So what’s the prognosis? Have I completely lost it? Am I going insane?”

“First of all, insane is a legal term and has no place in this room. Secondly, there’s nothing abnormal about you. You’re certainly not the first nor will you be the last person who I’ve seen in this office with repressed memories.”

“You think they’re repressed? Are you sure I haven’t just forgotten most of my life?”

“I’m pretty sure. That sort of thing doesn’t just happen, unless a person has suffered some kind of brain trauma or suffers from organic brain disease. And since, according to your medical records, you’re suffering from neither, I can assert with a good deal of confidence that you’re repressing a good deal of your long term memory?”

“Why?”

“It’s the brain’s defense mechanism, a way to protect itself from emotional and physical trauma.”

“But I don’t remember ever suffering any kind of trauma or abuse?”

“Exactly,” asserted my therapist.

“So here’s the million dollar question: how do I remember something I can’t remember? Where do I even start?”

“You can start by going back to familiar places from your youth.”

“A lot has changed since then. A lot of the familiar is unfamiliar now.”

“Before our next session, find something, anything, a person, place or thing to trigger a memory from your childhood. Any memory will do. We just need a place to start. After the first memory, there will be many more. Trust me. I’ve been doing this for a very long time?”

“And If I come back next week with nothing? Then what?”

“Trust me,” assured my therapist with a calm smile. “Like I said, I’ve been doing this for quite some time now.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“Our time’s up. Would you like to schedule another session at the same day and time two weeks from now?”

“Sure,” I quietly assented. “It’s the only time I can do. My wife still thinks I play racquetball with one of the guys after work every Friday. I guess a little white lie is no big deal. I’m doing this for her…for the kids.”

Showing me down the hall, she said, “See you next Friday Mr. Davis.”

“Yeah, thanks Ms. Meisner. I’ll see you then.”

It was late evening the following Thursday as I turned onto the street of my childhood home, and inexplicably, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. And I wondered if it had something to do with fear. And I was afraid. I was afraid of finding something in my old house which I wasn’t even searching for.

I slowed the rental car I was driving to a crawl when I was a couple of blocks away. But the slower I went, the faster my heart beat, until it was pounding in my chest when I parked along the curb across the street from my parents’ modest home.

I got out of my car and leaned against the door in the chilly air of early spring. Just as expected, the downstairs windows were lit and the porch light on. I pulled my jacket closer to my body as I traversed the short distance across the street and over the stepping stones of the front yard which led to the small wooden porch.

My finger hesitated over the doorbell while I mulled things over in my mind.

What are you doing showing up at your mom’s house this time of the evening? This is stupid. Just hop the next flight back and forget the whole thing. Just go back and call the therapist and tell her it didn’t work and cancel your next appointment.

But another part of me was quietly imploring to go through with it. But it was different than the voice in my head just over a week ago before I made my first appointment, the voice which kept telling me to pull the trigger of the loaded gun I had pressed against my temple. No, this voice was calm and soothing, like that of my therapist. In fact, strangely enough, it sounded feminine like my therapist’s voice.

The calm and soothing voice won out.

Ding dong!

The door opened to the sight of a woman with short graying hair.

“Daniel?” she said, with searching eyes.

“Hi mom,” I said sheepishly.

“You’re the last person I expected to show up on my doorstep this evening. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong mom. I just wanted to surprise you. I was in the area on business and we put to bed a project faster than expected. So, I just figured I’d swing by before my flight leaves.”

“Daniel,” she began. “Are you sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah mom. Never better.”

She invited me in after giving me a hug and a kiss.

Then she said, “Sorry, but I don’t have much in the way of food to offer you. I just finished the leftovers, but there’s some ice cream in the fridge if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I already ate.”

“Then why don’t you have a seat so we can catch up.”

“Sure,” I said, taking a seat in the recliner next to my mother.

“So, how’s Michelle and little Katie?” wondered my mom while rocking in her easy chair.

“Katie isn’t so little anymore. She starts first grade this fall. And Michelle…well, Michelle is Michelle, always on the move, always staying busy. Sometimes it’s just exhausting trying to keep up with her.”

“I’ve always wondered if and when she sleeps,” teased my mother.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her…and Katie. Without them, I’m not even sure if I’d be able to drag myself out of bed.”

My mother smiled and then said, “Now I’ve got this little guy to get me up in the morning.”

She clicked her tongue a couple of times, calling an orange tabby cat onto her lap. She stroked its fur and it began to purr.

“There’s nothing like family,” she said.

I smiled a warm smile of my own. “And speaking of family,” I said, “I was wondering if you still had all of the genealogical documents and stuff somewhere.”

“Of course. Since when have I ever been able to throw anything out? But why the sudden interest?”

“I guess I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” I joked.

“And if you’re old, what does that make me?” she teased.

“A wonderful and caring mother, as always” I said.

“And the neighborhood cat lady,” she said.

She continued stroking her tabby cat’s head.

“So,” I began, “Where are you keeping all of the documents?”

She yawned before saying, “In the attic. I’d move them, but there just isn’t enough room in the spare bedroom. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” I said. Rising to my feet and stretching, I said, “I’ll go ahead and head up there now and have a quick look.”

“I’m going to put the kettle on in a while. Would you like some tea?”

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

“Still drinking the chai spice?”

“Ahhh,” I said. “You know me all too well.”

But heading up the stairs, I started frowning, for I had told another white lie, and I’m not talking about becoming sentimental in my old age. No. It was when I commented that my mother knew me very well. At that moment, I felt she didn’t know me, and I felt I didn’t even know myself.

When I got to the landing, I pulled the cord and then slid the steps down. I slowly climbed up, flashlight in hand and waded into a familiar musty smell, a smell that triggered a wave of anxiety. But when I turned on the light, my anxiety didn’t ease; instead, it damn near turned into a panic attack. I retreated to a corner, knelt down, and caught my breath, all the while fighting back tears.

I looked around, inventorying everything, but I had no more idea why I was so upset than I had knowledge of what was inside all of the boxes. But curiously enough, none of the rows of stacked boxes interested me in the slightest. What did interest me was an old carved chest in the far corner, partially concealed by the shadows.

I walked over and knelt down in front of it. I slowly opened it, revealing assorted memorabilia mixed together with some worthless old yellowed dime novels. But it wasn’t the memorabilia that triggered a memory. The pungent scent of dusty old wood and books along with a subtle undercurrent of cedar and lavender took me beyond that vague feeling of panic and fear. The smell took me right back to when I was six or seven.

In my mind’s eye, I saw myself standing in front of a mirror in the attic, but it didn’t look like me. It looked like my sister gazing back at me. But it had to be me. Her hair was never that short. Then I just stopped questioning everything, and gave into the happiness and contentment I was feeling while preening in front of the mirror in my sister’s old Easter dress.

In the memory of the moment, I had never been so elated. I had never felt so free. And things had never felt so right. And seeing a pretty little girl staring back at me felt so right.

Now, in the present, I found myself crying because I felt so happy. But tears of joy were soon replaced with tears of sorrow because the memory just kept playing on like an old movie. There was no remote control to press pause.

The young me heard footsteps coming up the ladder and my heart raced. I fumbled for the zipper of my cute little dress with shaky hands to do the quickest change of my life, but wouldn’t you know it, it was stuck! I darted into the corner and hid in the shadows behind some boxes, hoping against hope that I’d remain concealed. And as if my heart wasn’t racing fast enough and my palms weren’t sweaty enough, my father’s baritone voice elevated my panic level another notch.

Daniel! Daniel? I know you’re up here son. It’s time for dinner…Daniel, did you hear me? I said dinner, now!

But I was too petrified to speak.

Godamnit Daniel! I’m in no mood to play games this evening. You’ve got until the count of three to come on over here, otherwise I’m climbing all the way up…One….two…three! Alright. Fine. If you want to do it the hard way, we’ll do it the hard way. Daniel, why are you hiding behind that box?

Please just give me another minute daddy. I promise I’ll be right down. I promise.

I’ve heard that before. Then one minute turns into ten minutes and the dinner your mother went to all that trouble to cook gets cold.

He stomped on over in his black work boots and grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the shadows.

I swear to God son, you are without a doubt, the most…

His voice trailed off and his mouth gaped open when he saw my sister’s new twin.

Daniel, why the hell are you wearing your sister’s dress?

I don’t know. I just felt like being pretty I guess.

Daniel, boys don’t wear dresses and they certainly don’t get to be pretty.

But I don’t feel like a boy daddy.

Well that’s what you are.

No it’s not. I feel like a girl.

Godamnit Daniel! I told you, you’re a boy, not a girl!

But I am a girl! I cried.

We’ll just see about that!

My father yanked the zipper down and practically tore the dress off of my body. After tossing it in the corner, he dragged me over to the mirror.

Jesus Daniel! You’re wearing her pink panties too? Take ‘em off!

No! I said defiantly.

However, my dad raised his hand and my defiance was short lived.

Boy, if you know what’s good for ya, you’ll take those ridiculous looking things off now.

Whimpering in my greatest indignity, I slowly slid them down, but the whole while I hid the ugly mistake between my legs with the palm of my left hand. But my dad gripped my hand and moved it away, leading me to wince and turn my head at the sight of such an ugly truth.

Take a look in the mirror, he ordered. Do you still see a little girl? Don't you dare turn away. I said look at yourself Daniel! Take a good look at how God made you.

I cringed as the wrong body came into full view, and I couldn’t stop the tears from coursing their way down my face.

Good. Now, you see that? said my father, pointing to my crotch. It’s your penis Daniel. Girls don’t have them, only boys do. So, you still think you’re a girl?

I…I…

I couldn’t finish another word, for I started sobbing just like a little girl, further proof that my father chose to ignore at that moment.

My father, realizing he had sufficiently and brutally driven his point home, released me from his grip and began heading for the stairs, but the bastard looked back over his shoulder to address me one last time.

Now get your clothes on…you know the ones I mean. And make sure you wash up before coming down for supper. And Daniel, don’t tell your mother about what you did. You’ll just make her upset. You hear me? This stays between us.

Now in the place of the little boy sobbing in front of the mirror, I was literally curled up into a ball on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. And at that moment, I was glad my mother’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be.

When I finally cried myself out and regained my composure, I walked over to the ancient mirror and studied myself. As I did, I wondered if deep down I had buried within me a frightened little girl.

Although I felt confused and shocked, what I was sure about was that I was going to keep my appointment with my therapist. She and I had a lot of ground to cover.

To Be Continued...

A good paying job? Check. A loving wife and little girl? Yes. And a beautiful home? You betcha. Yes, the current criteria defining success in America certainly applies to Daniel Davis. But is he happy? Most definitely not; in fact, he's miserable because he has everything he never wanted. All he wants is one thing: to stop living a lie by freeing the woman inside. But will he have the courage?

Chapter 2

The red-eye flight back home was certainly living up to its name. My eyes were shot from all of the crying, from all of the stress, and from all of the fatigue. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gotten a good night’s sleep. Now my cumulative sleep deficit refused to be ignored, just like my true feelings refused to stay buried. I started to nod off but my respite from myself was short lived.

“Sir? Sir?” asked the flight attendant. “Would you like a beverage?”

I wanted to say, “stop calling me sir!” But all I could manage was a “no thanks.”

It was going to be a long flight. I nodded off once more.

After the uneventful flight touched down, I bypassed the luggage carousel for the first time in a long time-well, come to think of it, the first time ever-and jogged on over to the parking lot.

Sitting in the car, something perplexed me. If I was in such a hurry, then why was I just sitting there and resting my hands on the steering wheel. And then again, why did I feel guilty, as if I had cheated on my wife. I mean, after all, I was just following my therapist’s advice.

I shook off the feeling and pulled out of the deserted parking garage. On the way home I kept trying to convince myself that my last minute excursion was no different than pulling an all-nighter at work. After all, weren’t my own personal problems as worth sorting through as unread emails at work?

I shook my head and forced my latest rationalization to the back of my mind so I could focus on the dusky road ahead.

With parking lights rendered increasingly feeble relative to the brightening twilight, I pulled up alongside the curb of my picturesque four bedroom house. I didn’t want to wake anyone up with blinding headlights.

I gingerly opened and closed the car door and when I got to the porch, I opened and closed the door just as carefully, but like an old screen door, it creaked ever so slightly. I felt like a teen-aged kid trying to sneak in after curfew! However, I reminded myself that I had nothing to feel guilty about. Yet the guilt persisted.

What happened next was like déjà vu. Like a scene from some clichéd movie on Lifetime, the living room overhead glowed to life like the high beams of my resting car. And to my astonishment, there was my wife just sitting there on the couch, arms crossed and expressionless like a white and sterile surgical room.

My heart raced and I broke out into a cold sweat. I don’t know what scared me more, the fact that she hadn’t even put on her nightgown, or the fact that she wasn’t saying a word. Her eyes smoldered like the remnant embers in the fireplace.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me…dear?” she said, annunciating each word like she always did when she was quietly fuming.

“Ummm…” was my lame response. I was just too tired to think up a convenient lie.

“I know you weren’t pulling an all nighter…I talked to Bob earlier. So there’s no need to try and wrack your brain for another lie to tell me…So, who is she? Do I know her?”

“Actually, you do…I was at Mother’s…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you?”

“What?! Are you kidding me? Jesus! You mean you’d rather be with your mother than me.”

Rushing toward the couch to comfort her, I said, “Michelle, you know that’s not true.”

“I’m not so sure any more. And here I was, thinking four states away was far enough away, far enough to stop you from being so much of a mama’s boy. But I guess I was wrong. Jesus.”

She crossed her arms once more and averted her gaze, shooting a withering glare at the potted ficus in the corner of the room.

Sitting down next to her, I said, “Michelle, you know I love you and would do anything for you. Right?”

But all she did was to continue to stew in silent anger.

Continuing on as if I was talking to a wall, I said, “I didn’t go out to visit mom. I…I went there to confront some painful memories from the past that life has decided for some inexplicable reason to dredge up now.”

Slowly, she turned her head toward me. The expression on her face softened enough so that I reached over to grasp her hand.

Fighting back tears, I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Michelle. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“But you did,” she said in a weary tone. “You know, I’m not angry that you hopped a flight to your mother’s. I’m upset because you lied to me. And that makes me wonder what else you’ve been lying about.”

“I haven’t been lying about anything else,” I lied.

“Are you sure? I mean, how many times have you said that you’re fine, or that everything’s okay, or that there’s nothing to worry about or…”

I could tell she was fighting back tears. Struggling to maintain her composure, she continued on.

“But I know you’re not fine, at least most of the time anyway. You say it and force a smile but I know you too well after all these years. I know you’re not happy anymore. Is it because of me? Is it because you don’t love me anymore?”

I grasped her hand while she cried. “Oh God no Michelle! How could I ever stop loving you? You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like that lately. Sometimes I feel like I’m married to a stranger. I mean, you never even touch me anymore. I can’t even remember the last time we made love.”

“And I’m sorry. I need to do a better job and not take you for granted. You deserve better, so I’ll do better. I’ll be a better…man.”

“You promise?” she wondered, wiping away tears.

I crossed my heart with my finger before kissing her full lips. The sorrow drained from her face as she pressed her body closer to mine.

“Well,” she began, “That’s a start, but you still haven’t told me exactly why you went out to your mom’s in the first place.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Some memories are better left buried in the past where they belong. It’s time to start fully living in the present. And based on the beautiful and wonderful woman I see in front of me, the present looks pretty dammed good to me.”

I kissed her once more, only this time more passionately, the way I had always longed for someone to kiss me. Her arms seemed to float up of their own accord and wrap themselves around my shoulders in forgiveness. Getting her to forgive me was the easy part. I always instinctively knew how she wanted to be kissed and to be touched and that was the problem because I wanted to be kissed and touched like that. I could easily fulfill her needs but what about my needs? I sighed and wanted to shake my head at all of the irony. I always thought that if I found the right woman, I wouldn’t want to be, well you know, the girl I felt was trapped on the inside. I figured that being around a woman would fill the void that was in my life. But now, I was beginning to realize that the only woman who could possibly fill the void was the woman inside who was bursting at the seams to claw her way out. However, if I let her out, then what? What about our marriage? Michelle fell in love with a man and not a woman. And what about little Katie? What would happen to her if we divorced? Would I lose her once Michelle was granted full custody? I honestly didn’t know, and I really didn’t want to find out by indulging such a selfish desire. At that moment, the possibility of transitioning was off the table and I’d just have to continue being the man she married, and the father impressionable Katie so desperately needed during these confusing and trying times. All these questions and scenarios raced through my brain like the hot blood rushing through my passionate reawakened wife’s gorgeous body. But the only thought that was racing through my wife’s brain was, “are we going to make it upstairs or not?”

So, I did the only thing that I knew to do. I carried her upstairs to the bedroom, the way I had always fantasized a guy would do to me.

I laid her down and then kissed and caressed every square inch of her luscious soft skin before making love to her.

“Oh Daniel!” she exclaimed.

Close to orgasm and powerless to resist, I exclaimed, “Samantha!”

“What?!” she hissed.

“Sorry. I mean, could you call me Samantha just this one time? I’ve kinda always wanted to try it out sometime. It’s just a little harmless fantasy.”

With a devilish smile, she replied, “My, my. Aren’t we feeling a little kinky this evening…Samantha.”

I flashed her a toothy grin.

After making love, we laid next to each other, chests still heaving from such an explosion of passion. And there was passion to spare, for we gazed lovingly and hopefully into each other’s eyes like we did on our honeymoon all those years ago.

I said, “I hope I didn’t make you feel too uh…uncomfortable just now.”

Shaking her head, she replied, “Surprised…yes, a little. Uncomfortable…not so much. As long as you don’t start dressing the part, I think we'll be fine.”

Chuckling, I said, “Not to worry. I haven’t cross-dressed in years.”

The very brief yet awkward silence that ensued had me wondering if my wife actually thought it was a joke. And when her face finally lit up with a half-smile, I didn’t feel entirely reassured. Had she always suspected the real reason that I was different from other guys?

Easing the tension even further, she said, “Just promise me one thing. If you decide to start wearing panties, please get your own.”

Feigning disappointment, I said, “Darn! Samantha’s going to be so disappointed, what with her being so close to your size and all.”

“Well, be sure to tell Samantha, that’s what Victoria’s Secret is for.”

“Hey,” I added, “did you know that Victoria’s Secret is cross-dresser friendly.”

“Ooh! Remind me never to shop there again.”

“What? Why’s that?” I inquired.

“Think about it. Do you think I want to shop at a place and try on lingerie that may have just been tried on minutes ago by some…by some perv?”

Is that what she would think of me if I told her?

Before I could answer her rhetorical question, she continued on.

“Just the thought of what they might do with the lingerie in the dressing room makes me…makes me…well, it’s just plain gross if you ask me.”

“Sorry I mentioned it,” I said in deflated tone. “It’s just something I came across in the paper once.”

“Look, I’m not judging or anything. Whatever people want to do is their business. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

After a luxurious stretchy yawn, she rolled over and turned out the light on her bedside table.

Giggling she said, “Good night…Samantha.”

“C’mon Michelle. You know it was just a joke.”

“Mmm hmm. A joke you started I might add.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly. “Good night.”

I gave her a kiss and rolled over to my side of the bed.

Outwardly, I was quietly indignant, but inwardly my heart was aching because I longed for my wife to call me Samantha once more and set my heart all aflutter.

The next day was a beautiful day, but instead of basking in some unseasonably warm sunshine on a park bench while munching on my sandwich during my lunch break, I decided to seek out some company other than the pigeons who were beginning to accost me for some crumbs.

I moseyed the short distance down the busy sidewalk to the mall which was within walking distance of my office building. And I realized that with every calculated masculine step and restrained swing of my arms it was becoming as difficult for me to resist window shopping as it was for the city pigeons to resist diving in for a free meal in the form of breadcrumbs. The only difference was I think the pigeons had more self control!

For me, the breadcrumbs were in the form of the new spring fashions on display in every other shop it seemed lining Broad Street. Gorgeous red evening dresses and flirty little blue polka-dot and cute yellow sun-dresses taunted me along with the flawless curvaceous plastic figures which wore them behind the equally flawless glass.

Don’t look! Don’t draw any attention! I would shout at the exasperated woman inside.

But averting my gaze was just becoming harder and harder despite my fierce determination to fight such “inappropriate” feminine urges. I felt like I was doing battle with myself. But I knew I was losing. The urges were just getting more and more powerful, many orders of magnitude greater than the restless need of a newbie ex-smoker to light up a calming cigarette. And I should know. I had quit years ago. But how could I quit this? I was desperate to find a way. However, my desperation to find a way equaled my desperation to find a way to become the woman I kept locked up inside. Now my desperation for the latter seemed to be winning out on this beautiful day. That is, it was until I neared the enticing perfumed entrance to Victoria’s Secret!

At last! Female utopia!

Now, as I walked in and was greeted by one of the gorgeous young sales women, my heart was racing with exhilaration at the delightful anticipation of trying on any one of the assorted silky garments. Hanging on a rack, or perfectly folded on a table, it was a buffet of femininity for the eyes. I wanted to grab every type of lingerie and hold it against my petite frame while admiring myself in the mirror, but instead stood frozen like a statue. Perhaps if RuPaul had been casually shopping there I would have felt more at ease and less conspicuous, but as it was, I was the only guy (in the loosest sense of the word) in the store.

Finally summoning the courage, I walked over to the nearest table of bikini cut panties of assorted bright spring colors. But before I could reach for even one pair, another sales lady smiled at me. Now I felt uncomfortable and conspicuous once more because I didn’t know what kind of smile it was. Was it just the friendly “thanks for shopping here” kind of smile, or was it more of the “don’t worry hon, your secret’s safe with me and your wife need never know” type smile. I wasn’t sure. However, what I was sure of was that if I didn’t calm myself down, I was going to have to use one of the pairs of panties as a makeshift handkerchief because I was breaking out in a cold sweat.

So, what did I do to calm myself down? Well, call it pathetic, call it cowardly, but instead of reaching for a pair of the cute panties, I reached for my phone and pretended to read a newly received text, hoping that everyone would buy that it was from my wife. I forced a smile at the imagined conversation, slipped it back in my pocket, and then proceeded to superfluously check my watch.

Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic! I muttered to myself as I exited with flushed cheeks.

The frustration and disappointment I felt was akin to summoning the courage to ask a girl to the Prom but then getting cold feet, as if heart rate was inversely proportional to the distance between yourself and your crush.

“Daniel?” wondered a familiar female voice coming from behind me.

Oh shit! Is that Mandy? I exclaimed in my already racing brain.

Apparently, the inverse law didn’t just apply to the object of one’s adoration. It also applied to coworkers!

To Be Continued...