Chapter 8—Broken Arm and Broken Heart
“Who do you think you are?” Lydia screamed at the man, refusing to believe that any of this was happening.
“For now, all you need to know is I’m with the government and that this is for your protection,” he said, placing the camera on her bed. He opened the door, poked his head out and looked to the left and right. “No sign of them. We’re good for the moment.”
Lydia sat up and threw her legs over the bed. “Take your protection back to DC, or wherever you’re from!” She yanked the IV drip out of her good arm, wincing as the needle tore some of her flesh. She scrambled to her feet and stood with her back against the wall. Lydia felt queasy, but the wall’s support kept her upright. “You won’t take me!” He came close to her, but she swung at him, brushing his hair. “Get away from me!” She hit the air hard. “Get away!”
“I know you’re upset. I know,” he said calmly. “Normally I wouldn’t do this so quickly, but we’re running out of time. I’ll give you a chance to say good-bye to your parents and your friend.”
Parents? They were here? “Where—”
“They’re outside,” he said, finally able to hold her arm by her side. He guided Lydia back to the bed and seated her upon it. “I’ll send them in now, okay?”
She nodded her consent and he left the room. On the way out, he slipped her camera into its bag and dropped the bag into his coat’s deep pocket. She cradled her arm as she waited. Her brief show of strength had sapped her energy. She knew she wasn’t in any condition to fight the man, especially since she felt so winded and in such pain from trying to hit him. Her arm was stiff and aggravated now, but it was settling down to a dull ache. Lydia was thankful that it was her only injury from the bus accident. Her legs had only a few scabs on them. A doctor entered, checking her vitals and asking her questions about how she felt. He tested her reflexes and cognitive functions and jotted down the results on a notepad after each exercise.
Lydia’s parents and Dariela came in soon after the doctor left. They rushed to her. Debra hugged her and kissed her cheeks, and Arnold pulled her head to his chest. He smelled like fresh-cut grass, as usual. Debra’s cheeks were smeared with tear stains and Arnold’s forehead was wrinkled with worry. Dariela’s face was pale and she couldn’t look Lydia in the eye. She assumed her parents had given her friend updates about having to leave with the strange man. But Lydia felt lost. She didn’t know much more than Dariela about what was happening to her.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “He can’t do this! I don’t want to go with him!”
Her mother shushed her softly and stroked her hair. “It’ll be alright.”
“He can’t do this,” Lydia repeated, and looked to her father for confirmation. He closed his eyes and pecked the top of her head.
“We tried to fight it when he came to the house with the police,” he said. When he didn’t add anything else, Lydia’s heart seemed to drop. They had been forced to give her up? No, this was a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.
“He says it’s to protect you. He wants to keep your safe,” her mother said.
“From what?”
“Some people he thinks might be looking for you.” She didn’t sound like she believed it.
“ ‘Might,’ ” Dariela scoffed, her face scrunching into a frown. “ ‘Might’ be looking for her. Who cares? That’s a pretty weak reason to take her away!”
“What people?” Lydia asked, her eyes welling up with tears. She clung to her mother’s blazer and buried her face in it. Her parents hugged her, trying to console her, but nothing worked. They, too, began crying while Dariela kicked and hit the nightstand and the wall, and anything else she could vent on.
“I promise,” her father said, “we’ll fight this. Whatever it takes, we’ll beat this.” Her mother nodded and agreed.
All too soon, the trench coat man returned. Despite being met with glares and long faces all around, he headed straight for Lydia. “I’m sorry, but we have to go. I’ve already signed you out. The doctors will give us some medicine for your pain, but you should be fine for the trip. Then our own doctor will attend to you.” He turned briefly to Debra. “You brought her things?”
“In our car,” she choked out in between sobs. “When will we be able to see her again?”
“Soon. I promise. After we’ve settled her in, we’ll arrange a meeting. But for now, we have to go.”
Lydia’s parents reluctantly helped her up, out of the hospital gown, and into her clothes, lying on top of a nearby chair. When they finished, they each took a side and escorted her down to the first floor, following the man. Lydia dragged her feet the entire time, unwilling to accept that it was anything other than a nightmare. I’ll wake up soon, she told herself. Something big will happen and I’ll wake up.
But those hopes were dashed when they walked out the front door. Officers began loading bags and suitcases full of her clothes and other belongings into a black convertible under the supervision of the trench coat man. The vehicle was flanked by a couple of police cars. The man stood by the driver’s side of the black car and studied the officers. While he waited for them to finish packing the car, he asked, “Hey, who are we missing?”
“Mitchell,” one answered. “Said something about making a phone call.”
“Mrs. Penner?” a blond nurse asked. She pulled Debra aside to hand her the discharge papers, all the while glancing at Lydia out of the corner of her eye. The nurse’s eyes were a rich brown with swirls of hazel. She continued to cast glances at the girl. The woman gave Lydia a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she turned to Arnold, who embraced her once more.
“You have to be strong now,” he said. “We love you. We’ll come to visit as soon as they let us.”
“I love you, too,” Lydia said, using both arms as best as she could and fighting to hold down her pain. She dug her fingers into his canvas jumpsuit and into his back. She wished she never had to let go.
Debra joined them and wrapped her arms around both. “We’ll be praying for you and you’ll be in our thoughts every day,” she promised. “Take care of yourself.” She handed her an orange pill bottle. “Here. The nurse said this should help the pain in your arm. Take one every six hours.”
Lydia saw the nurse head back inside and take out a cell phone from the pocket of her scrubs, while taking quick glances at the man in the trench coat. Dariela stood nearby, watching the officers outside. Lydia ended the hug with her parents and walked over to her friend. They didn’t say anything for a few moments until Lydia threw her arm around Dariela. “Take care,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”
“You take care, too,” Dariela said. “Don’t let anyone push you around up there.”
“I won’t.”
The man in the trench coat stepped to the sidewalk and began talking quietly with a doctor, who handed the man a pill bottle. Maybe a sedative, before they do something horrible, Lydia thought glumly.
“Come along, time to leave,” he said. To the officers, he asked, “is Mitchell back yet?”
“No,” one said.
“Leave him, then. We have to move.” He had one of the woman officers pat down Lydia for inappropriate objects. “No phones on you?”
“No, we have her cell phone,” Debra said. “Can she take it?”
“No, we don’t allow cell phones. We’ll give her a landline. Let’s go.”
With slow steps the group trudged along, savoring each moment together, until Lydia broke away from her crying parents and climbed into the passenger seat of the convertible. Dariela turned away, wiping furiously at her eyes. Tears streaming down her face, Lydia gazed back through the window at her family and friend as the car pulled away from the hospital.
The ride was silent. Police cars escorted them with their sirens off. Lydia stared outside, already missing the city that they passed through. Whenever she turned to look at the driver, a feeling of dark hate overwhelmed her. This monster had stolen
her from everyone and everything she loved. And for what? To experiment on her? For her “safety”?
It was then that she realized she didn’t even know his name. She didn’t know anything about the place they were going, and that frightened her.
As if realizing it himself, the man said, “I’m Arthur, by the way. Arthur Stafe.” He offered his right hand, but she didn’t take it. He didn’t appear offended, however, and put his hand back on the steering wheel. “We’re heading to the airport. Then we’ll take a plane straight to the Cave. We have our own landing field there, so we should be there not long after nightfall.”
The Cave? That doesn’t sound threatening at all, Lydia thought sarcastically. She didn’t say anything but merely continued looking out at her city. She was desperate to stay.
Within twenty minutes, they had arrived at the edge of town. Arthur turned toward the airport, a little farther down an empty road. Lydia had only seen the airport a few times. From what she could remember, it was a fair size and could hold large planes, but it wasn’t very active. Exactly what a government official would like, she figured.
They drove to one of the chain-link gates, opened for them by a man in uniform. Arthur drove to one of the hangars near the back. It was large and empty, save for a slim ghost-white airplane waiting for them. The stairs had already been lowered, and the pilot was waiting at the bottom step. The police vehicle parked near the hangar’s entrance, allowing room for the plane to taxi out.
Arthur shut off the car and turned to Lydia. “I know I haven’t told you much. I can divulge more once we’re in the air, when we’re away from prying eyes.”
Lydia did her best to avoid looking at him. He popped the trunk and stepped out of the car. Arthur and the pilot began loading her luggage into the plane. Lydia chose to stay seated, studying the hangar and determining if she might be able to escape.
Her door opened and Arthur stood next to it, offering his hand. Ignoring it, she stepped out of the car and swept past him. She took the last of her suitcases from the pilot, wincing as her fingers curled around the handle. She stood at the bottom of the steps, gazing at that outstretched bumpy metal tongue waiting to gobble her up. It was intimidating and Lydia wanted to drop the suitcase and run away, wanted to slip through Arthur’s fingers and return home.
Arthur blocked her way, hands crossed, waiting for her to move. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Let me take that. You shouldn’t be carrying anything.” He reached for the suitcase.
Lydia threw him a sharp glare, one that would rival Dariela’s, and yanked the luggage away from him. Her fingers tightened as her swollen joints popped in pain. The suitcase wasn’t that heavy, and she was already angry about him touching her things. But her quick movement was enough to snap off the handle, and it crumbled in her grip. The suitcase tumbled down the stairs. Arthur stopped it with his foot.
Lydia cursed herself for not being careful, but Arthur looked amused. She was surprised that she could manage such strength in her condition.
Arthur lifted the luggage under his arm, but Lydia snatched it from him, nearly flinging it over her head. She managed to steady herself and the suitcase, and once again considered fighting her way past Arthur. But she was too tired and sore to try, and her cantankerous stunt had drained her. So she pressed on, slowly climbing the stairs to the open hatch.
When she stepped inside, she half expected to be roughly restrained by federal agents and interrogated in a dark cabin. Instead, she was met by bright lights and quiet, since the engine hadn’t begun warming up. The seats were separated into pairs, with every two pairs facing each other across a small table, six of these groups for each side of the cabin. The floor was covered in beige carpet.
“What is it?” Arthur asked, standing right behind her.
She chose to confess. “I was just expecting to be cuffed by dozens of black suits.”
“No, it’s only us,” Arthur said. “Like any government branch, we like to be discreet with our travels and activities. It especially works best for us, given our particular nature.”
“And the cops are what? Part of that discreetness?” she asked sarcastically.
“An exception this time. I couldn’t afford to let anyone else reach you first. I had to get you out of there quickly. The cops helped—”
Lydia had already stopped paying attention. She headed for one of the seats in the far corner. She tried to stuff her luggage in the overhead compartment, but couldn’t manage to do so with one hand and no handle. After struggling with it and constantly dropping it, she left the suitcase in the aisle and flopped down into one of the large soft seats.
The door was shut and the pilot walked toward Lydia, stopping at her seat. He was an older gentleman, with kind eyes and a thick mustache that shook when he talked. “Hello, Ms. Penner. I’m Dilbert Avens and I’ll be your pilot. Can I get you anything before we take off?” He picked up her suitcase and stowed it into the overhead compartment.
“Something heavy,” she said, eyeing Arthur. He was stowing the rest of her suitcases elsewhere. “Like a club.”
“I know you think ill of him now, but Arthur is really a good person,” Dilbert said, his mustache ruffling. “He has your best interests at heart, rest assured.”
“Oh, I’ll bet,” she snapped at him. “Taking me away from my family and friends. Yeah, he’s certainly got my best interests at heart.” Lydia turned away and stared out the window, where a few employees were preparing for the plane’s takeoff. Dilbert walked off silently, and she felt a little guilty about yelling at him. She reasoned with herself that Dilbert was connected to Arthur, no matter how tangentially, and that he was partly to blame, too. It failed to comfort her.
Dilbert announced they’d be taking off soon. “Please take a seat and fasten your seatbelts,” he said as he turned on the FASTEN SEATBELT lights above. Arthur sat next to Lydia, either completely missing the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him, or simply for convenience. The plane rumbled and pulled out slowly.
“You need to buckle up,” Arthur said.
Lydia refused to look at him, but she did buckle her seatbelt nonetheless. Or at least she tried to. The crushed suitcase handle was fresh in her mind. She tried to fasten the belt slowly, but it was difficult with only one hand. When the seatbelt refused to snap, she abandoned all care, and the buckle’s hinges broke off. Frustrated, Lydia fastened what she could and knotted together the rest of the belt, hoping it would hold.
Within a few minutes, the plane began to shake. It zipped along the runway and Lydia’s stomach dropped as the plane lifted into the air. She glanced sideways at her captor. Arthur’s eyes were closed and his hands folded.
As soon as the plane leveled out and Dilbert turned off the FASTEN SEATBELT lights, Lydia yanked off the belt, breaking it.
“Excuse me,” she said curtly. “I’m moving seats.” He raised an eyebrow, but stood, allowing her to pass. Holding onto the tops of the group of seats, she crossed the cabin to the window seating on the opposite side of the plane, to the group diagonally farthest from Arthur. Unfortunately, since they were the only passengers, she could still hear his small talk. He was still in her line of sight, too.
“It was pretty hard finding you,” he said. “We had been watching Rooke for a while, but he covered up all information about that chemical spill. Flew by us completely. I’ll bet they did an internal investigation and paid off anyone they needed to cover it up—OHSA, the police,” he said, ticking off a few possibilities. “I believe the hospital kept your condition under wraps since Rooke supplies and donates to them. Probably paid off Mitchell to watch us as well. I suspected someone in our escort was doing so, hence the reason I couldn’t give you any more information before now. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, though. Hopefully, no one was watching us. Which in that case, would mean this plan worked better than I thought.”
The sound of peeling rubber made Lydia turn and look at him. Arthur peeled away the skin at his ears, revea
ling a face as dark as coal, with a five o’clock shadow. He took off the face mask and then removed his now-obvious wig. He tossed the red wig and mask into the seat across from him. Lydia noticed that his hair was thick and spotted with patches of black and gray.
Arthur grinned, delighted by her openmouthed surprise. His large, round eyes were the color of two stumps of tree bark. “Not what you were expecting, I’ll bet,” he said. Lydia thought his real face matched his voice much better. There was a hint of an English accent that cropped up on certain words.
He continued on, trying to engage her in conversation, but she stubbornly held her ground. There was no way she was going to let him befriend her and be cordial after what had happened. He had ruined her life.
There were lulls in his attempts to make friends, in which she could ignore him and enjoy the view outside. Lydia had only flown once or twice, but it had always been an enjoyable experience. The wispy clouds, which obscured everything when she’d been on the ground, created a world beyond reach up here. Free from any bonds below, the scenery was pure and beautiful.
Every now and then, a flock of birds glided lazily by her window. More than anything Lydia wished she could join them.
She ignored his attempts to make friends and gazed out at the setting sun in the distance. It was a universe beyond reach up here, a realm free from the bonds of the world below.