Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One) (34 page)

She acted as if she heard nothing.

“Sarah?” He didn’t like her far-away gaze. “You with me?”

She made no reaction.

“Sarah,” he said again with no acknowledgement from her. “Hey. Why don’t we go sit down?” For some reason, her far-off stare worried him more than her anger and her violent outburst toward Declan.

Declan perked up as well. “Sarah?”

Ramsey sensed Declan’s wariness and knew his brother was picking up on something. “Declan?” he asked.

Declan’s energy intensified. “John,” he said. “Snap her out of it. Now.”

Declan’s tone got Ramsey’s attention. He reached for her even as she continued to pull away from him.

She reacted forcefully. “Stay away from me.” She brought up her hands as if to deflect him. He braced, preparing in case she pushed him away as she had with Declan. He felt a force move at him and around him, but he stayed where he was, untouched. Just as suddenly, though, the kitchen light above him exploded and shards of glass rained down on him, and he closed his eyes and ducked his head to protect himself just as they were all plunged into darkness.

“SHERLOCK!” LEROY’S VOICE boomed in the dark. “You there?”

Ramsey shook the shards of light-bulb fragments out of his hair, trying not to cut himself. “I’m here,” he answered. He couldn’t see anything. The kitchen and dining-room lights had been the only ones on, and with them no longer operational, the house was completely dark.

“Hannah,” said Declan, “flip on the office light.”

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Should be over your left shoulder, on the other side of the wall,” answered Leroy.

Ramsey heard shuffling and then the sound of Hannah sliding her hands against a solid surface. After a few seconds passed, he could hear her patting her fingers against the wall. “Where is it?” she asked.

“Keep looking,” said Declan. “John, how’s Sarah?”

He got no response. “John?” he asked again.

“She’s not here,” Ramsey finally replied.

“What? Where is she?”

“Well, if I could see anything, I would tell you. But I’m feeling my way through this kitchen, and she’s not in here anymore. She must have skirted past me as I ducked away from the glass. Damn it.”

“Here it is,” Hannah exclaimed. The flip of a switch could be heard, but no light welcomed them. “It’s not working,” said Hannah, flipping the switch several times.

“She must have flipped the breaker,” said Leroy. “We have flashlights in the garage. I’ll see if I can find one and get the lights back on.”

Ramsey heard a grunt as Leroy walked into what was likely a chair on his way to the garage.

“What if we opened some curtains? Get some light from the street?” asked Ramsey.

“What light from the street? We’re too far away from the road, and there’s no moon tonight,” answered Declan.

“Of course there isn’t,” responded Ramsey.

“Hannah, help me up,” Declan said.

“You need to stay still,” Hannah answered. “If you have a concussion, you could get dizzy, or worse.”

“Hannah, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to sit here all night. I need to check the house.”

Ramsey remembered Declan’s tone with Sarah before she hit the lights-out button. “Declan,” he asked, “what are you getting?”

“I’m not sure.” Ramsey heard what sounded like grunting and assumed his brother was now standing—with or without Hannah’s help, he didn’t know. “Whatever it was, I didn’t like the feel of it.”

“What do you mean?’ Ramsey felt his way slowly out of the kitchen.

“I don’t know, but it felt like another presence.”

“What, here?” Ramsey felt his anxiety ramp up. If they were confronted now, they were at a big disadvantage. His mind played out scenarios of Sarah walking out the door and right into Y’s hands. They had to find her.

“It wasn’t a physical presence. More like some sort of projection. And it was directed at Sarah.”

“What are you feeling now?”

There was a brief pause. Ramsey pictured Declan closing his eyes and going still. It was quiet for a few moments.

Declan finally responded. “Nothing. I don’t feel it anymore.”

Hannah spoke. “Good. Then sit down before you fall over.”

“Hannah, I am not going to fall over.”

“Then why are you leaning on me?”

“I’m not leaning on you.”

“Oh, really?”

Ramsey could only picture the interplay between them as he made his way through the dark back to the dining table. He wondered what was taking Leroy so long in the garage. Standing there, seeing nothing, his mind played out another scenario where Leroy lay dying, with a flashlight embedded in his chest. Ramsey tried to rein in his overactive imagination.

“Whoa,” said Declan as he sucked in his breath.

“What?” asked Ramsey, suddenly on alert. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” said Hannah. “I just let go of him. The man who was ‘not leaning on me’ almost fell over. Declan, would you please sit down now?”

“Where the hell is a chair?”

If not for the seriousness of the situation, Ramsey would have enjoyed the commentary between his brother and Hannah, but right now he couldn’t get his mind off Sarah. He played out the myriad of possibilities of where she could go and wondered where he’d look first when the lights came back on.

“Hey! Watch where you’re putting your hands,” Hannah objected in the dark.

“Sorry. You wanted me to hold onto you.”

“Yes, well, hold something a little less personal, please.”

“I’m in the dark, Hannah. I’m at a slight disadvantage.” Ramsey could almost hear his brother smirk.

“Sure you are.” Hannah wasn’t buying it. “Here, sit down.” Hannah had managed to locate a chair at the table and directed Declan to it. “There. Now stay put.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ramsey was about to venture out on his own through the house, dark or no dark, when he finally heard Leroy and saw the beam of a flashlight.

“I flipped the breakers. Nothing works.” The beam of light got closer, and Ramsey could make out Leroy in the dark. “I’ve got two flashlights, though.”

“Give me one.” Happy for any illumination, Ramsey reached and took the other light from Leroy and flipped it on. Another beam of light joined the first. Ramsey swiveled it over at Declan and Hannah. Declan sat at the table, glassy eyed, as Hannah stood over him, holding the ice pack on his head. She squinted as Ramsey aimed the light toward them. He looked back at Leroy. “Stay with them. I’m going to find Sarah.”

Before he left the room, though, he checked back in with Declan. “You’re sure you’re not picking up on anything? I don’t want to come back here and find I’m in some sort of Twilight Zone episode and all of you are gone, or worse. This is way too eerie for me.”

Declan held his head in his hands, massaging his temples. “Go,” he said. “We’re all right.”

“You let me know if you get something.”

“You’ll be the first.”

Ramsey swung the light through the room. He sought the front door and was pleased to see that it was closed and still latched from the inside, so she hadn’t left the house, at least not from the front door. He swung the light through the living area and saw everything in its place. Everything was just as messy as before. The back porch door was closed, too, and Ramsey felt sure if she’d left from there, he would have heard it. He then tried to decide between the guest rooms and the master. Guessing she would be more comfortable with the master, he headed in that direction. He aimed the light down the hall as he walked. He deliberately kept his mind blank as he moved, trying not to relive his childhood fears where as a young boy, he would wake up screaming in the dark, afraid of something he could not remember. His father had left the light on in his room until Ramsey finally outgrew the fear. This particular moment, though, vividly brought back the past, and Ramsey felt that same childhood distress he’d felt years ago bubble up in the pit of his belly.

Doing his best to ignore his discomfort, he entered the bedroom and aimed the light through the room. The beam bounced off the walls, creating misshapen shadows. He noticed that with the lack of electricity also came the lack of sound. It was strangely quiet. There was no whirring of air moving through the vents and no humming of electricity through the air. There was only a hushed sound, and it unnerved him.

“Sarah?” he whispered. “Sarah, are you in here?” Why he was being quiet, he didn’t know.

He tried again, only this time he spoke normally. “Sarah? Can you hear me?” He walked into the dark bathroom but saw only the empty tub and shower. He flipped the light switch just to see if it would work. It didn’t. He turned around and aimed the light back into the room.

“Sarah? Please answer me.”

He thought he heard a muffled noise, and he swung the light in the direction of the sound. He found himself looking at the closed closet door.

“Sarah, are you there?” He moved closer to the door and wondered if she’d retreated there, as she had on the first day of her Shift.

He approached the door and couldn’t help but compare himself to some sort of movie character who is instantly slaughtered when they innocently open a deceptively safe closet door. Images of fictitious homicidal maniacs with long knives and chainsaws flew through his head as he got close enough to reach for the door handle. He regretted now watching so many horror movies. Ramsey took a breath to pull himself together. Feeling stupid, he reached for the handle.

“Sherlock.”

A nearby voice penetrated the stillness, and Ramsey jumped and whirled. He saw Leroy’s illuminated face staring back at him - the beam of his flashlight lighting him from the chin up.

“Holy…” Ramsey felt the shock of it, from his feet to his hair, as every muscle in his body contracted. “…crap.’ He bent over and held himself. “Leroy, you scared the hell out of me.”

Leroy chuckled. “Sorry.” He waited while Ramsey recovered. “You okay?”

“I think I may have peed myself,” Ramsey responded, still holding his chest.

“So much for tuning into me,” Leroy said, aiming his light on Ramsey. “I figured you would sense my approach.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I was distracted.” Ramsey took another breath to shake off the fear.

“Why do you watch horror flicks if they scare you?”

“They don’t scare me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you doing in here anyway?” Ramsey asked, annoyed.

“Declan wanted me to tell you that he thinks she’s in here.”

“What?” Ramsey did not hide his irritation. “You scared ten years off of me to tell me that? Declan obviously has a brain injury.”

“He seemed to think it was important.”

“Will you go and tell him that I think he’s an—” Ramsey’s comment was cut short by the sound of movement from the closet.

Leroy heard it too and flashed his beam at the door. “I think someone’s in there.”

Ramsey couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Will you get the hell out of here before I start calling you something I would normally reserve for Declan?”

“Temper, temper.” Leroy made a move to leave, but he stopped and looked back. “You want me to open the door for you and check for the bogeyman?”

Ramsey shot a not-so-kind gesture at Leroy, and the big man laughed and exited the room.

Ramsey yelled back at him. “You want to be helpful, then find a way to get the lights back on.”

“Sure thing,” Ramsey heard Leroy say as he headed down the hall. “I’ll just call an electrician.”

A colorful name flicked through Ramsey’s mind at Leroy’s retort, but he kept it to himself. Another muffled sound from the other side of the closet door brought his attention back to his originally intended task.

He reached for the door handle again, praying it was just Sarah in the closet. If something jumped out at him, he knew for sure that he would suffer some sort of apoplectic seizure, and they would find him drooling and spouting gibberish in the corner of the room, with a lot worse than pee in his pants.

Focusing as best he could on Sarah and not on imaginary assailants, he turned the handle and pulled the door open. He let go of the breath he held when nothing emerged from the closet. He swung the light low and almost missed the reflection of a white sock peeking out from the back. Ramsey squatted down, below the few clothes hanging inside, and shined the light. There she was, curled up in a ball and leaning against the back wall.

All childhood fears were forgotten, and his protective instincts kicked in. “Sarah,” he said. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer him. “Sarah, I need to know if you’re all right. Please say something.”

He was rewarded by a faint response. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” he answered, happy that she’d responded. “It’s in my contract. It’s my duty to rescue damsels in distress, and that, my dear, is what you currently are. So basically, if I don’t help you, I’ll get fired. Do you want that?”

“I want to go home.”

He felt for her and her situation. There was no satisfactory solution to offer her. All he could do was help her through it. He shifted himself into a kneeling position and started to crawl back to her, flashlight in hand. Halfway in, he could hear her sniffling and the hitch in her breath, and he knew she’d been crying. He paused and then inched his way back out, swung the flashlight over to the nightstand, and grabbed the box of tissues sitting there. He then turned around and headed back into the closet, tissues in hand.

As he neared her, he saw she was sitting with her knees up, her arms wrapped around them, and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. He wanted to reach out to her, but he didn’t. He offered her the tissues.

“I brought you something.”

She made the effort to lift her head slightly, and he could see her puffy eyes and runny nose. She grabbed a few tissues, wiped her cheeks, and blew her nose. When she had finished, she put the tissues on the floor and put her head back down without speaking.

He allowed her the space and time she needed and just sat next to her, his flashlight pointed toward the open door. He made no attempt to calm or pacify her. There was nothing he could think of to say that she would want to hear. She continued to sniffle, and he imagined fresh tears. His suspicions were confirmed when she reached for more tissues.