Covert Identity (15 page)

Once her eyes adjusted, she found herself alone in a corridor. Both walls and ceiling were made from plywood, and the corners were thick with cobwebs. Raising her eyes, she saw a large multi-legged horror sit in the ceiling right above her head.

It wasn't alone.

There were spiders everywhere.

She slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream, and ran for the next door.

This was a bad idea. If one of the spiders fall down on me, I'll go crazy and wake up in a padded cell dressed in one of those shirts with really long sleeves. Maybe my heart will stop from pure fright. And I stood there forever without being able to see them.

She could already have spiders crawling in under her clothes.

They might be in her hair.

The thought made her want to stop and rip her sweater off, but then she'd have to stay under the horrors even longer. Running was the right choice.

When her hands reached the doorknob, the portal between her and a hopefully arachnid-free environment wouldn't budge. She tugged as hard as she could, and the door didn't move.

Don't tell me I went through all this to be foiled by a locked door? I don't want to go back under all those creepy crawlies.

One of the spiders moved, taking a couple of steps towards her on legs reminiscent of Jell-O, and panic inspired her to push the door instead of pulling. She staggered into the next room, and gagged on the stench.

Someone had been generous with the chlorine, but it couldn't quite mask years, or maybe decades, of urine, feces, and fear. She didn't have to see the cages and spots of dried blood to know this was Tiffy's first home.

No wonder he fought to get her out. This must be one of the lower levels of hell.

Her eyes scanned the room. Something hung from the ceiling, and she couldn't make out what it was. Didn't
want
to make out what it was.

Is that? Oh my God!

The shape turned into a man, hanging from his arms with his shoes a good foot above the floor. The remains of his clothes drooped in tattered rags, covered in blood. Below him lay a long whip haphazardly tossed on the floor.

Every instinct screamed to run up to him. He could still be alive, and even if he was dead, he didn't deserve to hang like that.

If she were to survive this, she needed to think before acting. Both their lives could depend on it.

Focus. A man went in here, and you followed him. He's still here. If he did this to Jimmy, imagine what he can do to you.

She could go back outside, get the attention of the police, and someone would come and take care of everything. On the other hand, getting their attention wasn't all that easy, and if Jimmy was still alive
now
, he might not be in another five minutes.

By the time she went out there and got back, the man would have time to kill him.

She walked through the corridor of horror filled with multi-legged nightmares to save him, so she should get on with saving him already.

Opening her purse seemed more difficult than finding means to travel to the moon, and the seconds before she held Mona's pink Glock and fumbled the safety off were endless. She still had the time to take two steps into the large room before a door opened to the side and the man stepped out. His eyes widened when he spotted her.

"Oh wow, a girl."

She pointed her gun towards him, and he laughed. "Pink? A pink gun, really? What does it shoot? Pink ponies?"

I know you. You rode Jimmy's bike, you dick. You probably have his phone, too.

The mere thought made her want to squeeze the trigger.

"Yes, ponies and butterflies and rainbows, and they're all really angry, so stay right there."

The man took a couple of steps closer. He kept his hands hanging straight down, but a large pistol dangled from his fingers.

"Drop that, and stay right there."

Mona had told her not to hesitate, because
they
wouldn't hesitate, but she couldn't just shoot him.

Dammit, why are my hands shaking?

Salty sweat stung her eyes and made it hard to see.

He taunted, "What's wrong, angel? In over your head?"

She sure was. Her eyes darted over towards Jimmy. It only took a split second, but it was more than enough for the man to raise his gun.

Could she shoot him?

Doubtful.

Could he kill her?

Very likely.

A soft groan came from Jimmy's direction.

Please let him be alive.

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. This was not a good time for empathy. The man moved again, towards Jimmy this time.

Her eyes stung and rubbing them would feel so good.

Why was being brave so hard? It seemed so easy for people on TV.

Mona was brave. Her friend had been right; she should have come with them.

"I said stop."

He shifted the gun towards Jimmy. "I just came in here to dispose of him. You are a bonus."

Jimmy might be alive
now
, but he wouldn't be if this goon shot him.

Her fingers tightened around the weapon, and she didn't realize how hard until the pistol jerked in her hands. Her ears rang from the boom.

The man laughed so hard he might fall over. What a great rescue mission. Not only did she fire the weapon by accident; she missed.

Oh well, at least all the noise ought to attract attention.

"Okay doll, that's enough."

He
wouldn't miss, and the gun pointed right at her again.

A shot echoed through the room and almost deafened her. She expected pain, but there was none. That didn't mean she wasn't shot, shutting out pain might just be a defense mechanism of her brain.

The man staggered and looked down at his chest, and when he fell, time turned to slow motion.

I didn't shoot him. I'm sure I didn't shoot him, but he's dead.

"I couldn't find you until that gunshot. What
is
this place? Goddamn it stinks."

The voice shook her out of her paralysis and she glanced back over her shoulder. Bishop holstered his weapon, and other people streamed in behind him. He clearly hadn't been in on the dogfighting bust, or he would know.

He took a step closer.

"Lower the gun. Sharon, lower the gun."

She stared at him, but the words made no sense. Looking at her hands, they shook, and they did hold a gun. Where did that thing come from?

A moment later, deft hands took the pistol away from her.

––––––––

S
haron sat in her car in the hospital parking lot, squeezing the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

I don't want to go in there.

Just sitting outside made cold sweat trickle down her neck.

Selena's melodic voice on the phone had said Paul was still sedated. Paul. It was hard not to think of him as Jimmy.

She looked at her hands. "If it was me in there, people would come, I'm sure. He would have come for me."

The car offered no answers.

He wouldn't know she was there anyway, so maybe it didn't matter if she chickened out. She could come back some other day, better prepared.

No.
She
would know, and she would have to live with herself every day.

She opened the door slowly, stepped out, and leaned against a fender. The day seemed much paler than it should be, and she drew a deep breath.

"You're a silly goose."

Talking to herself didn't make her stronger or braver. If anything, her voice sounded thin and scared.

This wouldn't do. Jimmy wasn't Jimmy, but she should still go see him.

She straightened her back, dried her palms on her jeans, and walked towards the entrance, concentrating on the sound of her heels against the asphalt. The large building stared at her with cold brick walls and soulless windows, and she could barely resist the urge to run for her life.

She needed to get a grip. One foot in front of the other.

Once inside, her footsteps echoed much too loud on the marble floor. The sound wasn't comforting anymore.

Such a nice foyer for such a horrible place. At least the smell isn't too bad out here.

Everyone seemed so filled with purpose, knowing exactly where they were going. She glanced up at the information signs, filled with words she didn't understand. Geriatrics, Orthopedics, MRI... One sign said "Information."

That might be helpful. No guarantees, but it might.

A woman looked up from a computer screen and her smile was
probably
friendly. Sharon's own fear filled in the details to make it look like a thirsty vampire's.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm here to visit..."

I'm here to visit Jimmy, but Jimmy doesn't exist. Paul exists, but I don't know Paul, I never met Paul. What's his last name? I should have brought something. Flowers would seem dumb for a man like him, and they probably wouldn't let me bring beer, but I should have had a gift basket, or at least a card.

The woman looked impatient.

"Yes?"

"Paul."

Why wasn't she typing or something?

The lump in Sharon's chest grew bigger and her eyes were moist.

No crying. Everything's bad enough without making a spectacle of yourself.

She tried, "He's a cop. Came in two days ago and was in intensive care and surgery and stuff, so I couldn't see him."

Could the woman see how puffy her eyes were? Sleep was a thing of the past, and she had cried so much she ran out of tears.

The information-vampire leaned back in the chair and tapped a pen against her desk.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need his name. Who are you, anyway?"

She looked about to call security.

Dammit. I finally found the courage to go in here, and now they're throwing me out.

Panicking didn't help her memory at all. She wanted to say
Shaw,
but that was Jimmy's name, and Jimmy wasn't real. Her mouth said, "Please," and that didn't help. The woman in front of her frowned.

"It's Colton, and don't worry about it, I'll take her." Bishop's voice made her jump, and the look on information-bitch's face when he flashed a police badge was priceless.

Nosy, unhelpful bitch.

No, that was the wrong way of thinking and probably unfair. Nosy, unhelpful bitches helped keep Jimmy safe from evil people who might still want to kill him.

She still wanted to turn around and stick her tongue out when Bishop escorted her towards an elevator.

"You're pale. You alright?"

What would it be like to date a police officer? They must be trained to see everything. Well, she
had
dated one, she just didn't know, and hadn't he been very observant for a man?

She slapped herself mentally and tried to answer the question with a lie, but the
Yes
she intended to say came out as, "No."

He frowned. "C'mon, I'll get you some coffee."

She should say no. Wasn't she supposed to hurry to Jimmy's side?

The mere idea of seeing him unconscious in a hospital bed made her stomach turn over and she swallowed hard. This was one of his colleagues, maybe even friends, and no harm could come from accepting the reprieve.

"Thanks."

Neither of them spoke until seated in the cafeteria. The room smelled like food and not like hospital. One more thing that should make her grateful.

Bishop leaned back in his chair and watched her under heavy lids. He looked sleepy, but it was probably a disguise.

Should she say something?

Probably, but her mind was blank and she sipped her coffee, relieved when he broke the silence.

"Charles Napier was hit by an eighty-six-year-old driver and died in the hospital. Bet you haven't been in one since?"

Oh Charlie. So long ago, and still like it was yesterday.

"How did you know?"

He averted his eyes and made a little grimace.

"Selena had me check up on you before she confided Paul's real identity."

Makes sense, they probably don't reveal secret identities all willy-nilly.

She clutched her mug too hard and forced her fingers to relax.

"It was a long time ago. The... The old guy shouldn't have been driving, I think he was blind as a bat. He missed a stop sign and rammed Charlie's car, right into the driver's side."

He probably knew all this already, but she couldn't keep the words in. For all these years she never talked about it, and once she started it seemed impossible to stop.

"We were high school sweethearts. He joined the marines, and I counted the days until he would come home. The accident happened a week before the wedding. Charlie... Charlie went out to get pizza, and then he was dead."

The old man walked away without a scratch, and her fiancée was dead. It wasn't that easy, of course. He was a strong man and took time to die. So many days and nights spent in the hospital, waiting for him to move on to the other side.

"I don't..."

Bishop kept his eyes fixed on her face.

"It won't be like that this time." His voice was calm and certain.

"I hope you're right."

Please let him be right. If there's anyone out there still hearing prayers, please let Jimmy be alright.

The reprieve of the cafeteria lasted longer than she expected, but not forever. Bishop gave her time to find her balance, but they still strolled through the never-ending corridors much too soon for her taste.

"He was lucky. They didn't go for his head." His words gave her a mental image of a spongy pinkish mass seeping out through cracks in Jimmy's skull, sticking to his hair. The world swayed in and out of focus, and she felt Bishop's hands on her shoulders.

"Time to sit down."

The words made little sense, but she let herself be led to a bench. She hadn't even considered brain damage before and the thought was terrifying. Could she deal with a thing like that? Technically, she didn't have any bonds to him, she didn't even
know
this version of him, but he might need her.

"I'm okay."

"Sure you are. You're only whiter than the wall."

"I've never fainted."