The Betrothed
Part 35

A quiet group of four sat around the common room dining table a few mornings later, sipping their coffee and reflecting on the events of the last few days. Anthony, Jessica, and Richard had just left to return home, and they were enjoying having just the usual group present, just their own little extended family. Angela and Jimmy exchanged a few words every now and then, usually remarks on the newspaper or the always-unlikely prospects of snow; Darrick and Abby communicated more silently, through squeezes of the hand or, increasingly, through the now-completed bond.

Darrick had yet to stop marveling at the new sensation in the back of his head, this awareness of his wife that never left his consciousness. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking – not unless it was a particularly strong and clear thought – but he knew she was there and had a good idea of how she was feeling, and they were both becoming increasingly adept at using it as a mode of basic communication. But most important was the feeling of absolute love and acceptance it gave him; with this bond complete, he knew he would never feel alone. No, it wasn’t a magic ticket to marital bliss, but it did get them a good bit of the way there. It also left him feeling like a complete idiot for thinking that the incomplete bond was an acceptable substitute. If only I had realized that earlier, think of all the trouble that could have been averted.

His memories of said trouble were somewhat vague. Richard had admitted to “muddling” their memories while they were still asleep. “No one should have to remember what you went through” he had said; normally, Darrick would have balked at such an intrusion, but from what he could recall, he couldn’t help but think that Richard may have been right on that one. Those memories were bad enough.

One thing that was all too vivid in his mind was the knowledge of his parents’ deaths; he knew that Meredith’s was never far from Abby’s. Richard and the Martins had been sketchy on the details, but he knew that they had given his lives for his, and that knowledge was so overwhelming that he had just pushed it to the back of his mind, to be dealt with at a later time, with maybe a little bit of perspective. Even more so was the knowledge that, by saving him, they had saved the world. This was a responsibility he truly could not run away from; indeed, it had already followed him once. It made Richard’s parting wish of “Stay well” have a very different implication indeed.

But for now, all of that was far away. This morning was for one last breakfast with friends.

“So what are ya’lls plans now?” Jimmy asked, taking another sip. Darrick and Abby looked at each other. Darrick could feel her uncertainty through the bond, and it matched his own.

“Richard’s taking care of my parents’ and Meredith’s funerals,” he said, starting with what he knew. They had explained everything to Angela and Jimmy, so they both understood what had happened, even if they were still having a hard time believing it. “So we’ll be there for those, of course. After that . . . we don’t really know. I’d like to finish my degree, but it’s too late to get back in before the fall. And I know Abby would like to work more on her art. But . . .” He trailed off. He and Abby had discussed a few notions, but there was one more idea that had been nagging at him ever since learning of the cost that had been paid to save their lives, and that he had been keeping secret, not sure of what to do with it.

“What my husband is trying to say,” Abby smoothly took over, “is that we would like to finish out the year we had planned with you. I still have more than enough money to keep paying you rent, though I suppose we could put it in the bank and write you a check like normal people now, if you want. If you still want us, that is.” A flash of wry humor came through the bond, to Darrick’s delight. Not too surprisingly, Abby had not been in a very humorous mood the last few days. “We promise no more psychotic breaks, home invasions, or divine interventions.”

“You’re always welcome, dear,” Angela said with a chuckle. “For a year or ten. Though if you can keep things a bit calmer, I would appreciate it.”

“Always a good idea to take some time to clear out your head and think over your options,” Jimmy remarked.

“I don’t think I need to,” Darrick said, his nebulous notions taking clearer shape. Abby turned to him with a cocked eyebrow, and he directed his next words directly to her. “Abby, my love, I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days.”

“Didn’t the doctor ever tell you no thinking for at least five days after death? You’ll get a brain cramp.” Joking aside, Darrick knew that Abby was very curious to hear what he had to say.

“I find it hard not to do a little bit of self-evaluation after death,” he said. “Abby, I can’t help but feel that what happened was largely my fault. I wanted to leave because I didn’t want the responsibility that everyone kept trying to foist on me.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen, Darrick!” Abby said.

“And there’s no point beating myself up about the past, I know,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “Everyone’s been telling me that the past few days, and I think I believe it. What I’m concerned with now is the future. I ran because I didn’t want a responsibility I didn’t choose. But what I’m coming to realize is that I did choose it. I chose it when I chose you.”

“Darrick, I’ve never once expected you to bow to Atlantean expectations.” Now she was annoyed and feeling accused. Darrick hastened to reassure her.

“I never said that you did. But when I chose you, I chose your family, your people, and everything that came with it. That’s what marriage is, I think. I can’t just take the fun and leave the responsibilities behind. They’re all one and the same.”

Abby leaning in close, her expression fierce. “Darrick, our marriage should not be a chain to tie you up. Did Richard try to tell you that I secretly want you to kowtow to them? Because if he did . . .”

“Nothing like that. I’m not saying that I think we should just slavishly accept whatever they want to make us into, but we can’t just ignore it all either. There has to be some balance we can find between what we want to be and what they need us to be.”

Abby was quiet for a moment, but Darrick could feel that she was torn. She had spent the last few years of her life trying to find that balance, and had yet to hit it. But, maybe, we could find it together.

“I still want to stay here for a while,” she said, “and maybe some time back in San Francisco. There are so many people there I want you to meet, so many things I want to show you.” Now she was smiling, and Darrick met hers with one of his own.

“I’d love to,” he said. “We have our whole life together ahead of us. We owe it to the world to make it a good one.”

Eventually, Angela and Jimmy excused themselves to take on the business of the day. Darrick and Abigail Knight continued to talk, a nice relaxing morning at home, with their whole bright future ahead of them.

The End

The Betrothed

Part 34

Darrick and Abby were laid out on their bed. Richard stood beside them, hands upon their heads, chanting furiously, trying to get through the ritual as quickly as he could. It was obvious to all that time was quickly running out; the runaways’ breathing was rapid, their skins sallow. Every so often one would stir and mutter something underneath his or her breath, sometimes in unison, but mostly they lay perfectly still, only the shallow rise and fall of their chests indicating that they still lived.

John, Cynthia, Anthony, Jessica, and Meredith stood at the foot of the bed, watching anxiously, none knowing what terrified them more – the deaths of their children or friends, or what would inevitably come after. Even now, chaos was building in the streets outside. Screams were heard in the formerly-sedate streets of this dignified community as people ran for some semblance of shelter from the threatening firestorm. Elsewhere in the city, and around the world, riots were breaking out as panicked citizens abandoned hope at the end of the world, maybe even driven to their own madness by Darrick’s influence. Angela had locked and bolted the front door, and now she and Jimmy stood guard, making sure there would be no interference as the world fell to pieces around them.

The frantic chanting seemed to go on forever; to everyone in the room, it felt as though no Completion ceremony had ever lasted a tenth as long as this one, and no one knew if that were merely their own fear altering their sense of time, or if Darrick and Abby’s condition was in truth making it more difficult for Richard to achieve the final joining of their minds and hearts. Certainly, the procedure was difficult for them; their murmurs were becoming louder, transforming into cries of pain and fear. Soon, their bodies were no longer motionless, but twitching and twisting in agony.

“Stop! Stop! You’re hurting them!” Jessica cried, unable to watch any more. Richard only shook his head in rebuttal and kept on. She tried to rush forward to yank his hands away, but Anthony’s hold stopped her.

“Trust him, my love,” he told her softly, holding her in a comforting embrace as he turned her head away from the sight. “He’s doing what he can. There’s no other choice.” She buried his head in his shoulder.

Meredith covered her own face with her hands, unable to bear the sight any longer; Cynthia reached out with her free arm, the one not holding firmly onto John’s hand, and pulled her close, letting her cry silently into her chest. She herself could not tear her gaze away, painful as it was.

Suddenly, Darrick and Abby both stiffened in unison and fell utterly limp. Immediately, the noises outside grew louder, as though a cry of utter terror had been ripped from all the peoples of the world. Richard staggered back, his mouth open, the only sound coming from it a choking gasp. His gaze slowly turned from his young charges to the onlookers, his expression terrible. They all immediately knew what had happened, but they waited, frozen in silence, for Richard to confirm their horrible guess.

“They’re . . . they’re dead,” he said, barely able to get the words out around his labored breathing, his voice raspy and harsh. “They were . . . too far . . . the stress was too much. Oh, gods, they’re gone.” He nearly collapsed, saving himself only at the last second by grabbing hold of the bedside table. The complete silence in the room felt a physical thing, battling against the chaos outside, none of them sure what to think, say, do. From the outer room, they could hear the television news. Missiles launched from North Korea. United States announcing a retaliation. That, too, was too much to handle. Each couple held on to each other even tighter, and Meredith’s shaking doubled in strength. No one wanted to ask ‘What now?’. No one believed there was any point.

A wail burst from Jessica, the sound of ultimate loss. It galvanized the room, and tears began to flow from every eye. Every eye save Richard’s. With a lurch, he threw himself back to the bedside and placed his hands once more and Darrick and Abby’s heads.

“No!” he cried. “I will not be the cause of this. I will not let you go yet.” He turned to the others, who were staring at him as though he had lost his mind. “Their spirits cannot have traveled far yet; it’s a long journey to the afterworld. I’m going to call them back!”

“Are you insane?” Anthony asked incredulously. “You can’t . . . you can’t do that! You can’t bring people back from the dead!”

“Yes, I can,” Richard replied. “Theoretically. I don’t know that it’s ever been done, but I have to try. True language rules the world of the living. Let’s see if it can reach the world of the dead.”

Richard immediately closed his eyes and began to chant once more. Or, rather, his mouth moved, but no sound came out. His words were directed elsewhere, to ears existing on a different plane than the ordinary mortal world. To all in the room, it seemed as though the Sun had disappeared from the windows, as though all light had faded to grey. Sounds were deadened, and all around them was the silence of the tomb, a silence filled with the weight of earth and clay, tinged with the cold of the underground and with the smell of decay. Their skins crawled, and all felt unwelcome, their intruding presence resented by the entities that clustered around their warm bodies. All were still and silent, struggling to muffle even the sounds of their own breaths, lest they draw unsavory and dangerous attention. Through all this, seemingly oblivious to what he was drawing down upon them, Richard continued to chant. The dark silence grew greater and greater; their knees became weak as strength left them, and all five onlookers feared they would soon also be drawn into this world, never to return to light and warmth.

Richard jerked and thrashed, his hands losing contact with Darrick and Abby’s bodies. His head fell back, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling; immediately, all felt released from the threat of the grave, only to feel an even greater, grander presence filling the room with a vitality so great none felt they could stand it long.

“The gods speak!” Richard declaimed as his body stiffened ever straighter, so that he seemed to be trying to lift himself up off the floor. “Trying to recall the dead is an abomination! A grave abuse of the words they have given us!” With those words, hope fell, and everyone went to their knees in despair and awe. But the gods were not finished. “Oh, they will be merciful!” Richard said, his tears flowing freely down his face. “They know our situation, and will return Darrick and Abigail to us. But there is a . . . a price. For every life they return, a life of equal value must be given up. The balance must be maintained.” Richard’s expression collapsed into grief. “And my hubris must be punished. Two lives for two lives, given freely. Who will it be?” Richard fell to his hands and knees, released from the hold of the gods; his arms nearly gave out, but he managed to push himself up, though his stance remained hunched over, lacking the energy to reach its full height. The others stood as well, their legs shaky.

“So that’s it,” he said, his voice whispery and weak. “Two of us have to give up our lives.” Immediately, the room erupted in voices, each inhabitant offering their own life for the salvation of their loved ones and the entire world. Richard held up his hand. “That’s not all. The gods said lives of ‘equal value’. That means that the life given up has to be equal in magnitude to the one they would have had. John, Cynthia, Anthony, Jessica – I’m afraid that disqualifies all of you. And me, for that matter. We’re twice the age of these children, if not more. Our lives are too far gone. That leaves . . .” Everyone turned to Meredith, who stood straight, but trembling. She bit down on her quivering lower lip, then nodded.

“I understand,” she said, her voice quavering but sure. “I’m the only one the gods will accept.” She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “I will give my life up gladly to save Abby’s.” The smile she attempted was an uncertain thing, but no one doubted the sincerity of her words.

“Thank you,” Jessica said. “Thank you from all of us. You don’t know what this means.” Meredith turned to her and shook her head.

“I know exactly what it means,” she said. “I heard once that no love can be greater than one that gives up her life for her friend. Well, this is my chance, and I won’t let her down.” To Richard, she only said, “What do I have to do?”

“Wait,” John broke in. “Your gods wanted two lives. But we don’t have another young person. What about Darrick? We can’t leave him as he is.” Outside the window, the world was growing louder with the sounds of utter panic in the streets. And somewhere above them, they all knew, the missiles would be flying. “Without Darrick, we’re all lost.”

They all looked at each other, hoping to see the answer in another’s face. Patrick would have been their only other option, but he was gone, disappeared. And no one knew if he could have been persuaded to give up his own life, even for the sake of the world. Despair began to overtake them. To come so close to righting all the wrongs of the past six months – maybe the past twenty-one years – only to fail now. It was more than could be borne.

“The gods require an equal sacrifice,” Cynthia broke in, putting together her thoughts even as she spoke them. “What if we don’t have to use a single life? What if we can use two?” She looked over at John, who nodded at her to go on, following her logic. “John and I both together would probably equal out to the rest of Darrick’s life. Will you take the two of us?”

Richard raised up his eyes once again, and for a moment everything was silent. Then he stiffened once more, and his voice deepened. They all knew that what they heard now was not Richard, but the words of a god.

“IT IS SUFFICIENT,” the voice said from Richard’s mouth. “THE SACRIFICES WILL JOIN THEIR HANDS.” Wordlessly, Cynthia held out her hand to Meredith; she reached out to take it, but paused and turned to Anthony and Jessica.

“Tell Brendon, tell my parents, I love them,” she said, working hard to control her tremors. “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I died to save a friend.”

“We will,” Anthony assured her; Jessica just nodded.

Meredith took Cynthia’s hand and pulled her close, holding her trembling body tight. With her other hand she held firmly on to her husband.

“Take care of Darrick,” she told Anthony and Jessica. “He’s your son now. Do better than I did.”

“I don’t think we could ever do more than you’re doing now,” Jessica replied. Any further comment was cut short.

“DO YOU GIVE YOUR LIVES FREELY SO THAT THESE MIGHT BE RESTORED?”

“I do,” the three answered in unison.

“THAN IT IS DONE.”

The bodies of John, Cynthia, and Meredith collapsed limply to the floor; Darrick and Abby each gasped, then settled into deep, even breathing. Richard sagged. Anthony and Jessica hurried to the bed, where Darrick and Abby were now sleeping calmly and quietly.

On the television, a news flash. North Korea had self-destructed its own missiles while still in the air. Their bluff had failed. They were ready to talk.

And the world went on another day.

The Betrothed
Part 33

Anthony and Patrick quickly left the lights of the Little Five Points neighborhood behind, the strip on both side of the road descending into shadow. This made Anthony nervous – not because he feared being accosted by unseen assailants, but because he feared missing Darrick in the dark, especially if he were lying hurt or unconscious somewhere off the road. He considered calling for the missing man, but didn’t know if he would come towards them or run away, so he decided to remain inconspicuous, trusting to his own vigilant eyesight to spot the runaway. Looking at Patrick, though, he saw that his son did not share his dedication; instead of constantly scanning the shadows, he walked with head down and arms crossed, deliberate in his inattention.

“Stay alert, Patrick,” he ordered. “I need your pair of eyes. Your sister’s life is riding on this.” Patrick mumbled something underneath his breath. Anthony couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. “What was that?” he asked, his own tone brooking no denial.

“I said, what’s the fucking point?” Patrick spat out, each word emphasized clearly. “You can give me all that crap about taking care of the people you love, but we both know that’s a load of bullshit. It. Doesn’t. Matter. Anymore. We’re all going to die in the next few hours, so why should I spend my time trying to find the mongrel who stole my sister away and then killed her by running away himself?”

Anthony cursed the Command Richard had laid on him. If I could only tell Patrick that this isn’t necessarily the end, that saving Darrick would be saving ourselves. He’d cooperate then. Surely he’d cooperate then?

“You’ll do it because I’m your father,” Anthony said, resorting to the only method that showed consistent success. “I’m your father, and you are still unmarried. Do as your told, and hopefully I’ll be able to explain later.”

Patrick stopped still, raising his gaze to stare his father full in the face.

“No,” he said simply and firmly. “I refuse to waste the last few hours of my life searching for that half-breed. I want to spend my final moments with Elizabeth, the woman you chose for me to spend the rest of my life with, but your dragging me off to this outsider warren has robbed me of that opportunity. So I will find some place to be alone, so I can spend my life with the only true and pure Atlantean in this city. Myself.”

“Stop right there,” Anthony ordered as Patrick turned. Most likely out of habit than anything else, Patrick stopped. “You will spend your last remaining moments with your family, trying to save your sister’s life. Or does your Atlantean family mean so little to you?”

“My sister became an outsider the moment you bonded her to that . . . that thing,” Patrick snarled over his shoulder. “It’s only fitting that she die here.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anthony said, his anger with this monster in the shape of his son overwhelming his control. “When did you become this hateful, bigoted person? Is it Elizabeth? We didn’t teach you to be like this!”

Patrick spun back to face his father, his own features livid. “This is exactly what you taught me. You taught me that the outside world is a dangerous, corrupt, wicked place. That Atlanteans have to remain separate so that we won’t lose who we are and become just like them. That we have to live in the outside world, but we can never be of it. And you were right! Just because you bonded my sister to some half-breed degenerate because you wanted his name doesn’t change the truth.” He pointed an accusing finger, shaking slightly from emotion. Anthony had to fight to keep himself from flinching. “You’ve left the true Atlantean path, not me. So don’t ask me where I learned it. Ask yourself when you forgot it.”

“And does Abigail deserve to die to preserve your purity?” Anthony demanded.

“Abigail made her own choices,” Patrick said, turning away once more. “I didn’t force her. You can’t blame me if she suffers the consequences for them. Though I’m sure you’ll try.” He walked briskly away, leaving Anthony to stand staring into the darkness. He knew there was no point in trying to follow. Patrick’s made his choice. I only hope he lives long enough to regret it.

* * * * *

Richard and John made their way slowly back towards the boarding house, all the way hoping to spy Darrick’s form, either somewhere along the road or curled up along the side. They walked slowly, and by the time they stepped onto the road leading to their destination, the eastern sky was starting to lighten with twilight. Soon, it would be time for everyone to meet again, Richard realized, heart sinking. No one had called. That meant Darrick had not yet been found.

Richard had a hard time looking at John, who was expending all his attention on the search, calling out his son’s name and occasionally veering off the road to examine a particularly dark shadow just in case it might be hiding Darrick’s inert form. He had barely spoken a full sentence to Richard the entire night, and Richard wasn’t surprised. He could feel the tension between them. Eventually, he had to say something.

“I’m terribly sorry for what happened to your son, Mr. Knight,” he said. “As a father myself, I understand what you must be going through. But rest assured, if we find him, I will do all I can to heal him.”

“I should hope so,” was John’s distracted reply. “You’re the reason he’s like this, after all.”

“I didn’t tell your son to run away,” Richard said, hurt by the accusation. “Had he approached me on the matter, I would have encouraged the opposite.”

“No, you just used him as a tool in your own grandiose plans,” John replied. “Next time you try to bring world peace, could you leave my son out of it?” The sarcasm, Richard felt, was deeply unfair.

“Mr. Knight, I did not make your son who he is,” he said, a calm reminder of basic facts. “He would have determined the course of the world no matter what I did. I was simply doing what I could to make his path as pleasant as possible.”

“By using a magic you didn’t fully understand,” John answered, as angrily as he could while still devoting his attention to the search. “You said yourself that you should have studied more when you were younger. But you still had no problems using it on Darrick, because you just assumed you knew better. You set the whole thing up behind the scenes, certain that you knew what was best for everyone. For the entire world! How arrogant is that? Did you ever think that, maybe, he would be happier living the life he chose, instead of the one you chose for him?”

“You agreed to it at the time.” John deflated a bit at the reminder.

“For my wife’s sake. I didn’t realize it would spell the end of our marriage, even if it did take twenty years.” He turned his face away, but Richard could hear his grief.

“I’m very sorry for that as well,” he said. “A bonding is supposed to bring families together, not tear them apart.”

“Strange to hear that, seeing as how tearing families apart is one of the things you people do best.”

“I don’t know what you are saying. The family is all-important to us. That’s why the bond is so important. It guarantees healthy families. Or at least helps them tremendously.” Richard thought of his own bond, of the many joyous years he had spent with his wife, united beyond normal human comprehension. Yes, he thought. The bond is a good thing. I cannot believe Darrick would have been happier without it.

“So all-important that you tear them apart?” John asked incredulously. “Maybe you don’t realize what that does to the ones you send off on their own, to live in that outside world you spend their entire childhood teaching them to avoid. Cutting them off must make it easy to pretend that they’ll do just fine.” He was getting angrier with each word, his diction becoming clipped and forceful. “But I watched what your exile did to my wife year after year. I watched her battle loneliness, depression, a sense of abandonment and distrust that I could never get through. But you must have trained her well, because she never took it out on you, never said ‘To hell with those people who threw me away and everything they stand for’. No, she took it out on her true family, the one who chose her out of love, instead of chasing her away out of fear. Me.” He fell silent once more, glaring off into the night, his head swiveling back and forth like a searchlight.

Richard didn’t know what to say. He knew the necessity for what they did to the younger children, knew that it tore out the heart of every parent who had to send a child into that cold, bleak outside world, but who did it anyway for the good of all Atlanteans. But he didn’t blame John for not understanding this. How could he, raised in a society warped by its unnatural emphasis on individuality, so dedicated to the notion that free choice and self-interest should take precedence over the good of all that they couldn’t support a functioning government, couldn’t effectively punish their criminals, couldn’t properly teach their children. No, he couldn’t expect John to understand, or think less of him for this failing. But he couldn’t let his ignorance sway him, either. It was for everyone’s well-being, including John’s, that he remain resolute. But I don’t have to argue with him either. Especially not right now. He took what he felt was the wisest course and remained silent as they continued to search.

The sky was lightening to a grey pre-dawn as they approached the house, their spirits sinking with every step that passed without a report of Darrick’s discovery. Richard wished he had a better idea of their time-frame, of how much longer they had left before everything went up in flames. The quiet of the street began to give way to the sounds of life – cars passing, morning conversation drifting out of open windows, dogs being walked. Richard hated to think of it all being wiped out in a single instant, and wondered if John maybe had been right about him being somewhat responsible. I should have studied harder. I should have known more. It was my duty, and I failed in it. I chose to be lazy when I was younger because I thought it would be more fun, and look where that got us. Duty must come first. I should have told him that.

In the span of a few minutes, they were joined by the other two search parties, all heading back to the house to regroup. It only took him a few seconds to notice that Patrick was missing, which was doubtlessly the reason Anthony was talking quietly to Jessica, who was reacting with tears. He would ask about it later, if there was time. He deliberately refused to think the words ‘if there is a later’. With some uncertainty, Cynthia walked next to John and quietly took his hand; he, just as quietly, held on tight. They all walked somberly silent for a time, until they turned the corner and the boarding house came into full view. Cynthia gasped. Richard didn’t understand why for a second, then he saw the dark form, only half-visible in the dim light, curled up on the doorstep. They all burst into a run. Richard was the last to arrive to see Cynthia holding her son’s comatose form in her arms, rocking him back and forth, crying his name over and over. Time for this later!

“John. Anthony.” Richard’s voice cracked through the morning air. “Pick him up and get him inside. Lay him next to Abigail. Hurry!” Darrick was still breathing, but only the gods knew for how much longer. He had to work fast.

The Betrothed
Part 32

There was no sign of Darrick at or around the Star Bar, so the group split into pairs, agreeing to meet back again at 6 AM to discuss a change of plan if Darrick had not yet been found. Cynthia and Jessica headed north on Moreland Drive, Anthony and Patrick south, while Richard and John veered off down Euclid Avenue back into Inman Park.

The night was quiet, eerily so; Cynthia wondered if everyone were indoors, eyes glued to their television sets, wondering if the world were going to end in the next few hours. Cynthia wondered how she would feel if she were in their place, watching worldwide tensions rise seemingly without reason or cause, with nothing to do but sit and worry. If Darrick were still missing, I don’t think I would care. He’s all I have left. Without him, my world has already ended. She looked over at Jessica, her former friend. Another lost relationship, even with her walking nearby. Once, she had thought that their friendship could never be broken, when they were children and the outside world seemed far, far away, nothing that could ever hurt them. But Jessica had barely spoken to her since Darrick and Abby’s elopement, severing their tie only a bare couple of weeks after it had been renewed. Now the woman kept her eyes on the road before them or the shadows to either side, avoiding her gaze; the few times Jessica looked her way, her expression was colder than the wind which occasionally stole the breath from their mouths. Eventually, Cynthia could take the tension no more.

“This isn’t just Darrick’s fault, you know,” she said. “Abby wanted to leave as well.” I can’t let her put all the blame on me. We both screwed up. If she would just admit it, maybe she’ll talk to me again. But Jessica’s reply was not exactly what Cynthia wanted.

“Your son hit my daughter,” she hissed through gritted teeth, not even bothering to turn in Cynthia’s direction, still devoting her attention to the search, not even lessening her stride. “Do you think she agreed to that?”

“You heard Richard,” Cynthia protested, her own guilty feelings stinging her. “That’s not Darrick’s fault. His mind is being distorted, just like Abby’s. He wasn’t in control of his actions.” That managed to pull Jessica’s attentions.

“I don’t think this is the time to talk about it,” Jessica said stiffly, still avoiding Cynthia’s eyes. “Let’s find Darrick so Richard can heal them both. Then we can sort out the blame.” She didn’t look at Cynthia as she spoke, but Cynthia still felt her accusing glare.

She thinks this is my fault. She’s blaming me for what Darrick did. Again. “I have done nothing to Darrick, nothing that would ever cause him to hit another person.” A tiny doubt inside her stole some of the force from her words. What if she’s right? What if this is my fault? A competing impulse cried No! I did everything I could! “You have no idea of how hard it was, raising him alone, with an outsider husband. You were the lucky one, the firstborn daughter. You had the bond, the proper marriage, the whole of Atlantean society to help bring your children up right.” Cynthia snorted. “I was exiled, sent away into the outside world to make my own way, with no one to help me. I had to live with a man who cared nothing for proper Atlantean ways, who was so afraid that our son would leave him behind that he forbade me to tell him the truth for twenty years. Considering all that I had to endure, I think I did a damn good job raising my son. In his right mind, he’s never done anything but made me proud.” Jessica just rolled her eyes.

“By the gods, we are all sick and tired of your self-pity!” she exclaimed, finally stopping and turning to face her. “Other exiles have married outsiders and lived happy lives. Most of the ones who marry do as well as any other outsider couple. All they have to do is accept their place in life.” She poked a finger into Cynthia’s chest. “But you never could do that, not even when we were children. Now you’ve wasted your whole life wishing for something you can’t have, making both you and your husband miserable.”

“That’s so easy for you to say,” Cynthia cut in. “You have the bond. You’re connected with your husband in a way I can never be. You have no idea how hard it is to live with someone without it.”

“Outsider couples do it every day!”

“Outsider couples?! The divorce rate for outsiders is fifty percent! And how many of the other fifty percent are miserable?” Cynthia thought of the married couples she knew, how many were staying together for the kids, or out of religious conviction, or for some other superfluous reason. “You have no idea how good you have it. Your marriage will never be in danger, you will never be out of love. Outsiders would kill for what you have.” Cynthia felt her throat close up as her chest constricted. The weight of all she never could have, the unity with her partner she could never experience, felt as though it were pressing on her heart. “I would kill for it.”

“Oh, what utter rubbish,” Jessica snapped, but she visibly forced herself to continue in a softer tone. “Cynthia, it’s you who doesn’t know what she’s saying. You’ve never experienced the bond, but you could have at least listened to what you were taught about it, instead of constructing your own fantasy.” She shook her head sadly. “The bond doesn’t force a good marriage. Yes, it gives you that first rush, that infatuation, and it molds your personalities to make things easier, but that’s not everything. Marriage takes work no matter how well you’re matched. Did you ever try to work on your relationship with John, or did you spend your time wishing for something better every time you had a difficulty?”

Cynthia almost protested instinctively, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Jessica’s words struck too close to home. I wanted to make it work. I’m not sure it was even my choice to get married; Richard said it was that geas that made me do it, to preserve the royal line. But I never wanted it to fail. It just seemed to happen that way.

“I know I screwed up with John, but I did the best I could with Darrick, I promise.” Cynthia didn’t know if that was enough, but it was the best she could do. For her part, Jessica looked a bit sheepish herself.

“I know that,” she said. “I’ve never doubted your devotion to your son.”

“Then why have you shut me out these past six months?” Cynthia remembered the hurt of her newly-rediscovered people casting her out a second time, snatching from her the best source of support she had after her son had disappeared. “If you know I did the best I could, why did all of you blame me?”

“I didn’t shut you out. You shut yourself out!” Jessica threw up her hands in disbelief. “Yes, I said a few things in the heat of the moment, things I’m not proud of. So did you! But you should have realized that I, of all people, understood what you were going through. I understand what it is like to have a rebellious, headstrong child. I didn’t blame you or Darrick for making her run away, not once I cooled down and was able to think straight. I knew she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own! But you wouldn’t even let me tell you that. Every time I tried, you assumed I was just being polite, pretending that everything was alright. Well, everything was alright, with us anyway, until you assumed otherwise. Just like now. I don’t blame you for what Darrick did. I’m not even sure I blame him. That doesn’t make me any less angry that my daughter was hurt, but I was doing my best not to direct that anger at you until you pushed it. But you couldn’t see past your own self-pity long enough to realize that.” Jessica crossed her arms and regarded Cynthia with an exhausted frustration. “You make your own problems, Cynthia. You always have. The world, even the outside world, isn’t nearly as harsh of a place as you make it to be.”

Jessica turned sharply and walked back down the road, continuing the search. After a moment, Cynthia did the same, staying just a step or two behind her former friend.

The Betrothed
Part 31

The Star Bar was a small, dark, one-room club, not exactly what Darrick had had in mind when he had suggested clubbing, not really matching the tales Darrick had heard of crowded, loud clubs filled with pulsating music and flashing lights, but Carmen had said that it was the only real option in walking distance. A band played on the stage at the center of the room, while two bars to either side served customers looking either to quench their thirst or further their inebriation. Still, the band was decent, and the floor before them filled with gyrating bodies, so Darrick supposed that was good enough.

He and Carmen had been dancing for what felt like either hours or minutes, Darrick wasn’t quite certain. Flailing wildly about had provided the perfect outlet for his pent-up energy, and he had lost himself in the sheer physicality of motion, at times losing his contact with the outside world completely, dancing more to the flashes of color and images in his head than to any outside stimulus. It was a completely new situation for him, and he had not known that anything could be so exhilarating. Though he had to wonder just how much the small pill Carmen had given him on their arrival had to do with the experience, and if he could get more.

Also exhilarating were the moves Carmen was making just in front of him, and sometimes directly on him. Sure, Abby could be forward sometimes, but she had never shown the kind of raw lust that Carmen projected in every gyration. Even now, her arms were around his neck and her thigh pressed into his, the motions of the dance producing a very pleasant friction that only added to Darrick’s wild energy. The look in her eyes left little to Darrick’s imagination. Again, a little voice deep in Darrick’s soul protested, pleading with him to run away as quickly as he could, run back to his wife’s side and take care of her. But, as before, the voice was easily ignored, even more so because a new voice suddenly spoke up, sounding to Darrick almost like a whisper in the ear, so real he didn’t know if it came from inside him or out.

Take her.

“What?” Darrick said, startled. “Who said that?” His voice was swallowed whole by the band’s volume.

“What did you say?” Carmen asked, her mouth right by his ear, her breath warm.

Take her now. Abby doesn’t ever have to find out. It’ll be fun.

“I . . . I can’t,” he said. Yes, he was angry at Abby, and dancing was one thing, but he couldn’t go all the way with this girl. Could he?

You want her. You’ve always wanted her. Take her.

“You trying to say something, honey?” Carmen said. “Why don’t we go outside and talk about it?” The motion her leg made against his made it fairly obvious what kind of “talking” she had in mind. Carmen took his hand and led him out the front door and around to the dark parking lot out back behind the club, pulling him into the shadows against the wall. Immediately she was on him, her body pressed fully against his and her lips on his lips, then at his neck. Darrick felt heat like he had never felt before, not even during his wedding night with Abby, and his conscious mind was swallowed up in sensation, his only thoughts coming from that voice still whispering in his ear, urging him onwards. His hands moved down her blouse to the zipper of her jeans, where they were stopped by a playful slap.

“Now, now, Darrick,” Carmen said teasingly, “don’t you know you’re supposed to let the girl set the pace? We’ll get there soon enough.” She laughed, a low chuckle in her throat.

The slap was nothing, a playful tap; to most guys at most times, it would have been more of an encouragement than otherwise. But that, added to her apparent rejection, faux though it was, switched something in Darrick. The voice which before had urged him on to carnal pleasures now pushed him towards very different emotions. And soon it was joined by even more voices.

Watch out! She doesn’t want you! She wants to kill you! Kill you, rob you. She wants Abby for her own!

Oooh, that’s hot. Maybe she’ll let you watch.

It’s a setup! They’ve been working together! Abby wanted you to go out with Carmen tonight so she could take you out of the picture! You’ve seen the looks they give each other!

Abby likes to listen to Carmen at night.

They’ve been meeting behind your back!

Darrick roughly shoved Carmen away, gasping in sensory overload at he held his head in both hands, almost falling to his knees in the unexpected onslaught.

“Get out!” he screamed. “Get out of my head!” Carmen, frightened, took a cautious step back towards him, but she stopped when his head shot back up, and a look of terror seized her features.

“Get away from me,” Darrick snarled, his voice almost bestial. He felt like a small animal stalked by a predator. “Go away or I’ll kill you. I know what you want. Go!” Without a word, Carmen ran off, her own muffled cries of fear fading quickly into the noise of the bar beside them. But even with her gone, the voices would not go away.

They’re all out to get you. Your parents, Abby, all the Atlanteans – they’re plotting together. You’re walking right into their trap. They can track you with the bond! They put it in you to keep tabs on you. You have to outrun it! You have to get away, run away, where they’ll never find you. Can’t go back home. Must run. Find safety. Find hiding place. Hide until they forget you. Live your own life. Can’t let them control you. Then you can make them all pay. Run!

Darrick obeyed, running off into the night, through the streets of Little Five Points where the Star Bar was located. He ran through traffic lights and over the homeless beggars sitting on the sidewalks. He was barely aware of them. The world melted and ran together in his sight, a mass of color and lights and darkness. Every person he passed was a potential assassin, sent by Carmen and Abby to do him in, or an informant, sent by the Atlanteans to track him down. Soon, he began to scream as he ran, hiding his face from passers-by so they couldn’t kill him or report him. Must hide! Hide! was all he could think, and his legs obeyed this simple compulsion, instinctively taking him along paths he had followed many times before.

Finally, he reached a place that felt familiar. He did not recognize it in the dark and twisted place the world had become, but it felt right to him. Felt safe. There was something here that whispered to him of home and love and hope. Of good memories. He lay down and curled into the smallest ball he could, hoping to evade their gaze, hoping the goodness of this place would shelter him from harm. Soon, his consciousness faded, his last thoughts retreating deep into himself from the terrifying place the outside world had become.

* * * * *

Carmen ran back towards the house as fast as she could, still not quite believing what had just happened. We were just having some fun. That’s all. What made him go so crazy? Did he have some kind of weird reaction to the Ecstasy I gave him? But I’ve never seen anyone on X act like that before. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. She had to get back to the house and tell Angela what had happened. She would get rid of both him and his stuck-up prig of a wife in a instant if she thought he was a danger to her other boarders. Her pursuit had been fun while it had lasted, but she knew when to call it quits.

Her cell phone rang in her purse. Slowing to a walk – to the great relief of her burning chest – she took it out and checked the Caller ID, hoping that it wasn’t Darrick trying to apologize for his unforgivable behavior. She didn’t think the number was his, though she didn’t recognize it, so she answered.

“Hello. May I please speak with Darrick Knight?” said the polite, cultured male voice on the other end. Polite or not, though, Carmen was in no place to deal with anyone who would have anything to do with Darrick. Her fear was rapidly transmuting to anger, and this stranger made as good of a target for it as anyone.

“Is this that friend of his he called earlier?” she nearly yelled into the receiver. “I’ll have you know that Darrick just nearly attacked me. Your friend is crazy!”

“I’m very sorry about that,” the voice said soothingly. “I’m not the friend he called earlier, but I am his friend, and I’m very concerned about him. He’s very sick, and he needs our help. Can you tell us where he is?”

“Sick, yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Carmen said in a huff. “I left him at the bar, but I don’t know if he’s still there. I doubt it.”

“What about Abigail Martin? Do you know her? Where she would be?”

“You mean Darrick’s wife, Abby?” Martin, huh? I’ll bet they’re not really married. Miss Holier-than-Thou isn’t so holy after all. “I’m sure she’s still at the house, wallowing in self-pity.”

“Can you give me the address?”

“Why should I?” Carmen asked, suddenly suspicious. “I don’t know who you are. Maybe you’re one of Darrick’s crazy buddies. I’m not telling you where we live.”

“Give me the address.” The words reverberated in Carmen’s ears and through her head, touching something deep inside of her with an irresistible command. Before she knew what she was doing, she was rattling off the address for the boarding house. Only after she had finished did she realize what she had done; she knew she should be frightened by it, or at least disturbed, but she couldn’t seem to summon up the emotion.

“Thank you,” the voice continued. “We will be there within a few hours to get both of them. You have been of inestimatable service, young lady. Good-bye.” The phone went dead. Carmen looked at it for a few seconds, uncertain of what had just transpired, then remembered what she had been doing before. She started off once more at a run, determined to get back home and report to Angela before Darrick returned.

* * * * *

Angela was shaking Abby, hoping desperately for some response, when Jimmy and Carmen walked into the room, followed by a small crowd of strangers – an older gentleman, two pairs of middle-aged men and women, and a young man and woman. The resemblance of several of the newcomers to Darrick and Abby were clear, and all doubt of their relationship to her two young borders were erased when one of the middle-aged women gasped and ran quickly to Abby’s side.

“Abigail!” she cried, falling down to her knees next to the couch, examining Abby quickly for signs of consciousness and, like Angela, finding none. “Oh, my baby girl, what have you done to yourself?!” Taking Abby’s head in her arms, she wept over her as the others approached more slowly.

“Jimmy,” Angela asked as she stood, “what’s going on here?” Though she thought she could guess the answer pretty well. Looks like the family she ran away from finally caught up with her, and just in time for this. I wish I knew if that were a good thing or a bad one. Before Jimmy had a chance to respond, the other older woman stepped forward and quickly scanned the room.

“Do you know where Darrick is?” she demanded. “Where’s my son?”

“Slow down, Cynthia,” the elder, white-haired man said. “You heard what Carmen told us.” But neither Cynthia nor Angela heard his gentle rebuke. As soon as Angela heard this woman, this intruder, refer to Darrick as her son, she knew what she had to say.

“Some mother you are,” Angela said angrily, standing toe to toe with Cynthia, whose expression only grew darker with the remark. “Your son is a monster! Did you raise him to beat on women?” Cynthia’s eyebrows drew downward, but the older man stepped between both of them, forcing them apart.

“Calm down, Cynthia,” he said, with a hand on her shoulder. Cynthia’s fury did not abate.

“You heard what she said, Richard,” she hissed, not taking her eyes from Angela. “She said Darrick –”

“I heard,” he said as soothingly as possible. “And it’s probably true.” Cynthia turned her glare on him, but he didn’t back down, though he visibly had to stop himself from stepping back. “It’s not his fault, Cynthia, and you know it.” He turned to look at Angela. “Darrick isn’t a monster, ma’am. He and Abby both are under more stress than you can comprehend, more than any of us could stand. But we can help them both.”

“Stress is no excuse for what he did,” Angela stated, standing firm. “And it wasn’t just the slap, though that would have been enough. He then decided to go out on the town with that floozy.” She pointed an accusing finger at Carmen, who looked as though she wanted to sink into the wall behind her. Angela made an instantaneous decision. “I want you out of the house tonight, young lady. I don’t care what you do with your own life, but I will not tolerate making trouble with my guests.” She turned to Cynthia as Carmen slunk out of the door. “And the same goes for your son, as soon as he turns up.” She walked back to Abby’s side, addressing her parents, both of who were now hovering anxiously over their daughter, oblivious to all else in the room. “Abby can stay as long as she wants. Rent free. I just want to see her recover.”

“Abigail will not be staying,” the man who was obviously her father said. “As soon as she is cured, she will be returning with us.” To the cult, Angela thought, but she didn’t know what she could do about it. Well, maybe if they really can fix her, she’ll be able to stay on her own.

“Speaking of which,” Richard said impatiently, cutting in, “I can only fix them both if I have both of them here. Carmen said that he was still at the bar when she left him, correct. We’ll start there. If he’s gone, we’ll split up into teams to find him. Someone should stay here in case Darrick comes back.” He turned to the young woman. “Meredith, could you stay and wait?”

“Of course,” she said with a solemn nod, moving over to Abby’s side. “I want to keep an eye on Abby anyway.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for one of us to stay?” Abby’s mother said, gesturing at herself and her husband. “Or maybe even both? I don’t want to leave my daughter.” Richard shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s safe for Meredith to be going out. She has little experience with the outside world, and Atlanta at night is no place for a young, inexperienced woman.” The woman started to protest, but Richard cut it short with an upraised hand. “No, it’s better for her to be the one to stay behind. Trust me, Jessica; you will be doing Abby far more good by searching for Darrick than by staying behind.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Jimmy said, nodding his approval. “I’ll go with you.” But Richard shook his head.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” he said. “We can handle things from here. Darrick and Abby are both our family, either figuratively or literally, and this is family business.” Angela wasn’t about to stand still for that.

“Now, listen here, mister,” she said, walking over to stand beside Jimmy in a show of solidarity. “We’re all family here, too. I don’t know what you people have been doing with either of them for their entire lives, but I’m not going to let you barge in here and push us out of the way. Jimmy and I care about Darrick and Abby too, and we want to see them safe just as much as you. Besides, we know this area of town, and I’m guessing you don’t. We’re coming too.” Richard sighed in response, and made a peculiar request of Abby’s father.

“Anthony,” he asked, “what are the latest news reports saying?” Anthony took a phone out of his pocket – one of those new fancy ones that could go online and looked like just a single smooth piece of plastic – and ran his fingers across the screen a few times.

“North Korea is threatening to fire its nukes on the South and Japan if the U.S. doesn’t withdraw all of its troops immediately.” His voice was calm on the surface, but his furrowed brow and tight lips betrayed his tension. “They’re claiming that they even have rockets than can reach California. The U.S. is saying they’ll retaliate if they detect so much as a single launch, and China is saying that they’ll fire back on us if we do.” No one else had been speaking, but as soon as Anthony finished, the quality of the silence changed. The room felt dead, frozen, everyone reflecting on the implications of what they had just heard.

“Do you hear that?” Richard asked, rhetorically and – Angela felt – completely unnecessarily. “World War Three is about to start. Our time is running out. We no longer have time to bicker or fight amongst ourselves. There are larger things at stake.”

“So why are we even bothering with my sister or her outsider husband?” the young man finally spoke up, arms crossed in a sulk. “The world’s about to end. We’re all going to be dead anyway. So why do we care if they go a little bit before the rest of us?”

“Be quiet, Patrick,” his father ordered. “It matters.”

“Why?” Patrick replied insolently.

“Because –” Anthony began, and then choked off, fingers rising to his throat as his mouth silently dropped open. Richard stepped in smoothly.

“Because it does,” he said. “Because it doesn’t matter if the world is ending around you. You still have to take care of the ones you love. And that—” he turned to Angela and Jimmy – “is why you can’t come with us. We may all have only a few moments left. Call your families, your children or grandchildren. Spend your last few moments with them.” Angela’s mouth opened instinctively to dispute, but the sense of what he said struck her. If the world was about to end, she should take the time to call her siblings and tell them she loved them, to say good-bye. She saw Jimmy nod as he obviously came to the same conclusion. But she wasn’t going to abandon the situation completely.

“You will let us know when you find him,” she said, a statement, not a request. If Darrick really was just sick and not a bastard, she wanted to be sure that both he and Abby were okay, even if the world went up in flames five minutes later. This really could be the end, couldn’t it? Strangely, she did not find the thought as terrifying as she would have assumed. She’s lived through scares before, and if this time turned out to be the real McCoy . . . well, she’d had a good life, hadn’t she?

“Of course we will,” Richard said as he waved them out. He continued to speak to the others as the door closed behind them. “You heard what Anthony said. We have no time to lose . . .”

The Betrothed
Part 30

Angela headed straight towards Abby and Darrick’s room as quickly as her aging joints would allow. She wasn’t sure what she would tell her young friend once she got there; she wasn’t completely sure what it was she had just seen. Half a year with him living here, she thought, and I’ve never seen him behave like that. He was like a completely different person. He’s always doted on Abby, and I’ve seen him dodge Carmen like the plague. And then he runs right to her as soon as his wife is a little under the weather? And that wild look in his eyes. It’s like a completely different person took his place. And what should I tell Abby? I warned her about that Jezebel, but I can’t say ‘I told you so’. That’s the last thing she needs. Oh, this’ll kill her.

To twist the knife even further, she heard muffled sobs even before she opened their door. Bracing herself, she walked in to see Abby curled up on the couch, crying into a pillow, her wiry body shaking with the force of them. At the sound of the opening door, however, her head shot up with a hopeful expression. It broke Angela’s heart to see it crash with disappointment as soon as she recognized her visitor.

“Oh, poor dear,” Angela said, hurrying to Abby’s side, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the tears from the young woman’s face. She was reaching out to apply the elegant piece of cloth when she noticed the red mark on Abby’s cheek. A red mark in the shape of a palm. Angela almost couldn’t believe her eyes, but the imprint was clear, red and raw. Soon, it would begin to turn purple. The hand holding the handkerchief clenched into a fist. “Abby, what happened? Did he do this to you?” Abby’s only response was to burst back into tears and collapse into Angela’s waiting arms.

For a few minutes, Angela simply held her weeping, shattered friend. There was nothing else she could do. I can’t tell her about Carmen, not right now. That’s not really important anyway. Not next to this. Eventually, she regained the presence of mind to gently stroke her hair, making comforting noises all the while. The lack of words began to get to her after a while, though, and she searched for something to say.

“I’m so, so sorry, Abby,” she started. “I can’t believe he did this. Poor girl, to hide from an abusive boyfriend only to be abused by your husband. You don’t deserve such rotten luck.” But Abby was shaking her head violently, her words muffled by Angela’s shoulder. “What was that, dear?”

“Not true . . . so sorry . . . lied to you . . . no boyfriend.” Abby’s words were broken up and made incoherent by her sobs, but they continued to pour out of her, as though released from a long captivity, to Angela’s increasing surprise and alarm. “Never had . . . boyfriend before Darrick . . . parents picked him when we were young . . . we ran away . . .”

“Wait a minute,” Angela said, turning Abby’s face to meet hers, not quite believing what she thought she had heard. “Are you telling me your parents forced you into this?” Angela’s anger now had a new target. How can any parent do this to their child, force her to marry a monster! But Abby was shaking her head again.

“No . . . wanted him . . . bonded . . .” Her words again degenerated into sobbing, and she slid down into a slump.

“I don’t understand,” Angela said. “Is this something your people do? But Darrick’s American, I thought. Are you in a cult?” Only increasingly frantic weeping answered her. “Well, this can’t be legal. I’m going to call the police.” She reached for her cell phone, but stopped when Abby’s hand shot out and latched on to her arm.

“No!” she said, a wild look of panic on her face. She paused a moment to regain her breath and speak again through her tears. “Trust you. Can’t tell anyone. Must stay secret.”

“Abby, the police need to know about this. Your family or cult or whatever can’t keep doing this to their children.” But Abby kept shaking her head, to Angela’s frustration.

“Promise,” Abby said. “Promise me.” She looked so desperate that Angela didn’t have the heart to refuse her request, not completely.

“Fine. I promise I won’t tell. For now.” At Abby’s look of alarm, she amended, “Until you’re feeling better. Then we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

“Thank you,” Abby said, then lay back down on the couch, her further words descending into a muttered mixture of talk and tears. “Can’t tell. They’ll find us. Must let Darrick go. Yes, for the best. No good. Oh, please be quiet. Get out of my head. Yes, I know. You’re right . . .” Angela couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, and after a minute or so, the distinct words blended together into a continuous mumble which eventually faded away, Abby’s face pointed into the seat cushion. All the tension visibly faded from Abby’s body.

Oh, good, she’s asleep. That’s the best thing for her right now. Things will look better to her in the morning. They always do. Angela reached over to switch off the still-running television, then pulled a chair out from the table, intending to wait until her friend woke up or Darrick returned, whichever came first.

It was several hours later that Abby gasped loudly, awakening Angela from a sound if rather uncomfortable sleep in the chair. Abby’s eyes were open, and she lay staring, oddly still.
“Did you have a bad dream?” Angela asked, rising stiffly. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.” There was no response. “Abby?” Nothing. Worried, Angela gently prodded her friend, to no avail. Abby just continued to stare off into space, no matter how Angela tried to reach her. Abby was breathing, but showed no other signs of life.

* * * * *

The caller ID on Roger’s cell phone showed a number he didn’t recognize; even the area code was unfamiliar. Curious, he flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Roger! How ya doin’?! I’ve missed ya, man!”

Roger could barely believe his ears. “Darrick! Wha . . . how . . . what’s going on?”

“I’m in Atlanta!” Something twitched at the back of Roger’s mind, but he couldn’t quite identify it. “I’m going out partying with a hot girl and I thought you’d love to get in on that! Come on down!”

“Atlanta!” Roger managed to stammer through his shock, his brain feeling two steps behind in this conversation. “That’s hundreds of miles away. I can’t just ‘come down’. Are you feeling alright? You sound really hyped up.”

“I’m feeling great! Better than I’ve felt in ages! Carmen and I are going clubbing all night!” Roger could hear a woman’s laughter in the background.

“Carmen? I thought your wife’s name was Abby?” None of this was making any sense to him, and Darrick was beginning to worry him. Nothing for six months, as per his own word the last time they had talked, and now here he was, calling him up out of the blue – six months ahead of schedule – and talking nonsense in a very loud, excited voice. What’s happening to him down there? Is this what those people have done to him?

“Oh, Abby’s being a stick-in-the-mud tonight, so I’m going out with Carmen instead. It’s a shame you can’t come down, man.” Now Roger really could not believe his ears. Sure, Darrick could run through girlfriends like a hypoglycemic through a candy shop, but he had never known him to be unfaithful to one while they were still together. He was starting to be seriously concerned.

“Darrick, are you sure you’re okay?” Darrick laughed on the other end.

“I’m fine! Better than fine! Sorry you can’t join us. Gotta go now. Talk to ya soon!” The line went dead to the sound of more wild feminine laughs and playful cries. Roger closed his phone, wondering what the hell had just happened. Then, in response to an urge of unknown origin, he flipped it open and dialed a number that sprang into his head unbidden. What am I doing?

“Hello?” A man’s voice, tired.

“Darrick’s in Atlanta.” What’s going on? Roger had never experienced anything like this before; he thought he should be terrified, but instead he felt oddly numb, almost robotic. On the other end of the phone, there was a long silence, followed by a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the voice said in a tone of utter sincerity. “May the gods bless you, son. Did he call you?”

“Yes.” Roger desperately wanted to stop, to hang up his phone, but his voice and his hands wouldn’t obey.

“Can you give me the number?”

Roger rattled it off from memory, even though he had only given it a passing glance.

“Oh, wonderful, wonderful,” the voice said. “Listen to me carefully. I’m sure right now that you think you’ve betrayed your friend, and you’ll probably feel horrible about it later. I’m telling you right now, don’t. You haven’t betrayed Darrick. You’ve saved him. You’ve saved all of us.” Suddenly, Roger felt himself released from the strange compulsion, back in control of his own voice and body.

“Wait, wait, please!” he got out as quickly as he could. “Who are you? What’s going on? What did you do to me?”

“You were just following instructions, Roger. You did a great job. Everything will be fine now. Now hang up and go back to whatever it was you were doing before.”

And Roger did exactly that.

* * * * *

Richard Dawson hung up the phone, a sensation of profound relief and hope suffusing his body. Thank the gods I thought of using Roger. After Abby and Darrick had left, their parents had been certain that they had told their friends more than they had wanted to admit. But both Meredith and Roger had remained firm in their insistence that they didn’t know any more than anyone else. So Richard had left Roger with instructions to call should he ever learn Darrick’s location, instructions he could neither resist nor remember. And after six months of waiting, of all their other trails leading nowhere, his idea had finally bourn fruit. There was still a lot of work left to be done, but now they had a fighting chance. But not much time, he thought, remembering the latest news reports he had seen. The situation in the East was about to blow wide open, maybe literally. They had to work quickly.

Picking up his phone once again, he began the task of contacting everyone to let them know what he had found. They had to make their plans quickly.

The Betrothed
Part 29

By late that afternoon, Abby had indeed made it out of bed, but only so far as the couch, where she sat watching TV in her robe, eating a bag of chips. Darrick wondered if she even saw what was on the screen, her face looked so dead, showing neither interest nor pleasure. The only part of her that appeared to have any life at all was the hand that brought chip after chip up to her mouth, and the jaw that chewed mechanically away.

Darrick, on the other hand, felt so full of life he could burst, and he was nearing the end of his patience with Abby’s sudden lethargy. He had been trying all day to find some way to spur her to action, or at least to some minimum activity, but all he had accomplished was to move her from one stationary rest to another. Even Angela, coming by to take her to lunch, had been rebuffed. Darrick could feel the clock ticking away, his carefully-laid plans for the special evening falling into naught.

“Can’t you please get up?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’ll have a good time, I promise. Just get dressed and come out with me.” Darrick was hopping from foot to foot in his eagerness to get out and away. Their rooms were becoming oppressive, the walls closing in on him. He had to get out, get moving, before he screamed. What do I have to do to get her going? This isn’t the girl I married.

“I don’t want to go out, Darrick,” Abby finally responded, her words so lazy they almost blurred together into an unintelligible slur. “Just leave me alone.” She muttered something underneath her breath.

“What did you say?” Darrick asked. “If you want to say something to me, say it!”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Abby said, petulant. She curled up and lay down on the couch, eyes still not leaving the TV screen.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Darrick thought, eyes darting around the room. There’s no one else here, is there? Did she tell someone about us? Are they coming to take us back? Darrick grabbed her arm and tugged.

“We’re getting out of here,” he said, continuing to pull. He wasn’t sure if he was just trying to encourage her, or actively attempting to pull her manually out of her slump. Either way, the physical action felt good. “You’re not going to ruin my plans like this. Now get up and get dressed!”

“Let go of me!” Abby shrieked, showing more energy in one phrase than she had in all of the past day. She sat up and pulled her arm away, shrinking away from him to the opposing side of the couch. “You don’t want me with you, so don’t pretend! I’ve seen the way you look at Carmen. I know you want her! So go get her! She’s one of your kind, so you should be with her.” Her eyes darted to the side, and her tone sunk to a whisper. “Yes, yes, I know he does. He’ll be happier with her. Better he find it out now than later.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Daniel roared. His previous questions solidified to certainties. He knew what was going on. “You told them, didn’t you? You sold us out, and now they’re coming to take us back! You’re talking to them with some kind of Atlantean telepathy or something. You sold us out, you bitch!” Almost of its own accord, his hand flew out and slapped her firmly across the face, the crack echoing around the room. Abby flinched, then her sobs broke forth. Darrick barely noticed; he was too busy watching the windows for approaching figures. “I heard what you just said. ‘One of your kind.’ You mean an outsider, don’t you? That’s still how you see me! To Hell with you and your kind. They can have you, but they’re not going to get me!” Darrick could feel their eyes on him, their footsteps closing in. I have to get out of here. Now! He grabbed his coat and headed out, ignoring Abby’s weeping pleas behind him.

“Please, Darrick, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t want her to have you. Please come –” The slamming door cut short her cries.

Lies! Darrick thought as he stormed down the hallway towards the common room and the exit. It was all lies! She never loved me. It was just a setup. I’m just a toy to them, a puppet to dance on their strings. Abby, Mother – I was just their tool. Well, not anymore. From this moment, I’m free! In a flash, his anger was gone, replaced by a sensation of absolute elation. He felt light, unencumbered. He could run. He could dance. He could fly! I’m going to celebrate tonight! Celebrate my freedom after six months of captivity!

Entering the common room, he saw Jimmy, Angela, and Carmen huddled around the television, watching the news. It was one more boring report on North Korea. Maybe another time, Darrick would have been interested; maybe another night, his face would have worn the same look of worry he saw on theirs. But not tonight.

“I’m going out,” he announced to the room at large. “Jimmy, you wanna come with me?” All three turned to him with expressions of shock.

“Weren’t you going out with Abby tonight?” Angela asked, still looking concerned. Darrick shrugged.

“Not anymore,” he said. “She’s not up to it. So, wanna go?”

“Son, I’m a bit old to go traipsing out at all hours,” Jimmy said. “It’s your anniversary, isn’t it? If you’re wife’s not feeling well, maybe you should stay in with her.” Darrick’s ire rose at the note of disapproval, and it doubled when he saw Angela’s obvious agreement. With another shrug, he dismissed them, refusing to let his wonderful mood be sullied by such considerations. They don’t know what she really is. They’ll find out soon enough.

“What about you, Carmen?” he asked, turning to her, to the shock of both Jimmy and Angela. “Care for a night out?” She smiled like she had won a prize, and quickly slipped her arm into his, pressing her lush body firmly against his side.

“What a fantastic idea,” she whispered into his ear, her lips just barely grazing his earlobe. Darrick hadn’t thought that he could feel any more euphoric than he already did, but he very quickly discovered heights to his excitement that he could never have before imagined. Carmen’s tone made promises that summoned a host of images in his mind, each more arousing than the one before.

“Darrick, what are you doing?” Angela said in horror.

“You’re a married man,” Jimmy joined in. “Don’t forget that. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

From deep within Darrick, something responded. A small, familiar voice, crying out to him to listen to this man. To turn back and apologize to his wife. To tell her that he loved her and would never leave her. But it was a small voice, easily overwhelmed by this new excitement, and very quickly it receded to the recesses of his mind; once it was gone, Darrick felt all that more eager to be gone.

“Believe me, I’m not,” he said, as much to himself as to Jimmy, and turning, he and Carmen walked out of the front door, arm in arm.

The cold hit Darrick in a bracing wind; his breath caught, and Darrick felt more awake, more alive, than he could ever remember. He let loose a loud whoop, jumping up, releasing the energy he could no longer restrain. Carmen laughed, a deep, throaty sound.

“So where are we going?” she asked, her arm reaching around him. “Someplace private?”

“No,” Darrick responded. “There’s so much around here I don’t know. Take me someplace loud. Loud and filled with people. I’m tired of living like a recluse.” Darrick wondered why he had never cared for loud crowds before; they sounded like such an exciting idea. He had to share it. “Here, give me your cell phone. There’s somebody I have to call.”