Fugue Page 3

  "Kayla," he said again as she stared at him.

  "Rachel," she said back.

  He looked only mildly surprised. "Oh," he said.

  "'Oh'?" Rachel asked him, surprised at his response.

  "Well, I've met Zane before," he said calmly. "But you're new."

  She was aghast. "And you're fine with this?"

  "Yes," he said.

  She practically did a double take. "You're not as normal as you look," she said.

  He kind of laughed, then shrugged his shoulders.

  She smiled a little, but still stood nervously against the wall.

  "Oh, uh..." he stood up slowly, as if he didn't know if he should do this. "My name is Tom," he said, holding a hand out to her.

  She took it carefully, awkwardly, and shook it, then let it go. She was still not entirely sure Zane was on the level with this guy.

  "So, you know the others?" she said to him.

  "Yeah," he said, "Of course."

  "Will you tell me about them?" She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

  "Of course," he said again.

  He was smiling when she opened her eyes. Thank God.

  * * *

  They'd spent all afternoon talking. Rachel and Tom. Apparently, it was Saturday. In late March. Zane and Kayla didn't let her out very often. Tom was a high school coach and teacher. He taught English. Apparently he mostly knew Kayla. He met her while walking his dog, the one in the pictures, who had died from cancer he’d told her. Kayla had actually run into Tom with her bicycle. It was no accident Zane said quietly in her head with a chuckle. Zane had caused it. They'd both thought he was cute. That was four months ago.

  Tom had only met Zane twice. He knew she was kind of cold and "grouchy," but he didn't seem to know she was an assassin. It was probably better that way.

  Rachel pretended she had no idea who she was. She pretended she didn't know she was the host personality, that she'd never had memories of her past, and that horrible men had not trained her to kill against her will.

  "You've never played backgammon?" he was asking, laughing at her now.

  "I don't know!" she said, exasperated, but laughing. "Has Kayla?"

  "Yes," he said, kind of wistfully, staring into the twilight. It had been afternoon when she had woken up with him in bed. They'd been talking for hours. She'd put her own—or Kayla's—clothes back on, and he’d dressed too. They were sitting at the picnic table in his backyard.

  He'd offered her a beer, but she'd only sipped at hers.

  He turned to her. "What made you come out now?" he asked.

  "I don't know," she lied. "Maybe I feel comfortable and safe." She smiled and looked up at him. They were sitting side by side. Then he turned to face her, putting one leg on the other side of the bench.

  "Why do I feel like I'm cheating on Kayla?" he asked.

  "I don't know," she said quietly. "We're all the same, I guess."

  "You look the same," he said, teasing.

  "Do we?" she asked, honestly surprised.

  "Yes," he said laughing. "That's how I know you're all you. However many of you there are."

  "Oh," she said, still surprised he couldn't see them. Did he just see her then? Since she was the host?

  He was staring at her intently now. "Would it be too forward..." he started to say as he slowly leaned toward her.

  "Not considering the way we met," she said.

  He stopped to laugh, and possibly blush. She couldn't see him that well now in the dark blue light of early night.

  "Sorry," she said, turning away.

  "No, it's true," he said, "That was a weird way to meet."

  She turned back to look at him, wanting him to try again, but almost afraid to let him see that.

  His blue eyes grew softer somehow, and as he leaned in they actually started to close in a sweet way as she let his lips reach her lips. He kissed her with less passion than he had before, aware that he was meeting someone new.

  It started soft and slow and sweet. Then grew ever so slowly into something more intense. Deeper. More passionate, almost almost back to the level of that passionate kiss on the bed. Then suddenly Kayla said inside her head with a firmness to her voice, ‘I'll take over from here.’ And she did. Rachel was no longer in control of her own lips. She was even becoming less aware of them, as she faded back back back into blackness. Zane laughed in the blackness and said, 'I'm surprised she let you have him as long as she did.' She laughed again, and then snap, as fast as a light switch turning off, Rachel's awareness of anything at all was suddenly gone.

  Chapter 7

  She slowly faded into consciousness and realized she was walking. Through a graveyard at night. It was cold. Her breath fogged the air. She was given control of her legs then and stumbled a bit with the transition. She grabbed a tall headstone to catch her balance and stopped walking. She looked around at the gnarled trees, and an actual mist on the ground in the distance. What time of year was this even? How long had she been out?

  The wind rustled the leaves on the trees around and it almost sounded like whispering.

  "Oh, boy," she said to herself, starting to be creeped out.

  'Well, keep walking,' Zane said in her head.

  Rachel was so relieved she wasn't alone! "Walking where?"

  'Forward. I'll tell you when to turn,' Zane replied.

  Rachel walked forward, past more old headstones. They became more modern as she walked along.

  'Here,' Zane said suddenly.

  "Here what?" Rachel asked.

  'Turn left,' Zane said. 'One grave over.'

  Rachel turned left and stepped into the next row of graves. There must have been streetlights or moonlight somewhere filtering light into the cemetery, because she could read what the headstone said.

  'Rachel Wurther - Beloved Wife 1987–2014'

  She'd "died" at 27. She must be 30 now. They actually had a grave for her made up. Who would do this? And why?

  "You found this?" she asked Zane, as she stared at her own headstone, confused. Tears actually spilled out of her eyes, as if she was mourning her life. Which in a way she was. It had been stolen from her.

  'Yes,' Zane said. 'It was in the obituary. And other places. Now that we know your name, I can find out all sorts of things about you.'

  'Who do you think is buried in there?' Kayla said inside out of the blue.

  "I don't think anyone," Rachel said.

  'Certainly not us,' Kayla answered. 'Here we stand.' Then as if a thought had hit her, 'Dance on your own grave, Rachel!'

  Rachel had to smile and chuckle at that. But then she said, "Oh, this is so not funny."

  'But it's proof,' Zane said, 'It's something.'

  The wind brushed past them a little wilder then, whistled through the trees.

  'We should go,' Zane said.

  "I almost want to lie down and sleep on it," Rachel said.

  'Well, that's morbid,' Zane said after a pause.

  "What? It's mine," Rachel answered. But she hadn't been serious. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and started to walk through the graveyard again.

  "I can't believe anything seems morbid to you, Zane," she said.

  Kayla burst into hysterical laughter inside her head. And she swore she could almost feel Zane smiling.

  She walked to the edge of the cemetery and Zane said inside, 'Yeah, we had to climb that gate.'

  It wasn't too high. Wrought iron, shoulder height, no sharp points. There was a stone wall around the perimeter that was almost as tall as she was, however. So, she put her foot on the gate, pulled herself up and sort of swung her legs awkwardly over. She walked down a little stone walkway through the grass, under big trees, until she got to the road. A quiet residential road.

  She felt Zane working herself up to speak.

  "Yes?" Rachel said, stopping in the road.

  Zane suddenly took control of the body, which startled Rachel a bit. She turned briskl
y to the left and started walking down the road. Usually this was the part where Zane pushed her out of consciousness, but she was still here. This was weird.

  Zane walked down three blocks and turned right. She walked what seemed like an awfully long way, eight blocks? Did they not have a car? Suddenly Zane stopped in the middle of a block. She breathed in and out for moment, almost frustrated.

  "It has come to my attention," she said finally, "that it benefits us all to be nice to you. So, I've taken you someplace the two of you will like and I will tolerate it."

  Huh, Rachel thought. This was odd. Zane began walking again. She crossed one more quiet street, then went to the house on the corner, to the right.

  She very quietly opened the gate and stood in the middle of the neatly trimmed yard, waiting. And then there it was. The flip flap of a little doggy door, then a cute white miniature poodle was trotting happily across the yard to them. It seemed to recognize her and practically started to gallop.

  Rachel was putting pieces of memories together in her head quickly as the dog virtually ran up Zane's body and into her arms.

  Zane held it at arm’s length, disgusted. The dog still squirmed around excitedly.

  "Ew," Zane said, "Kayla, somebody."

  Then it hit. Rachel rushed forward to take over the body. "Poppy!" she said with glee and pulled the dog in for a hug. This had been her dog. Her little girl. Poppy. She'd taken her everywhere.

  The dog squirmed around and licked her face and she petted her and rubbed her ears and hugged her again. She was so happy.

  'You named your dog Poppy?' Zane asked from inside.

  'I want a turn!' Kayla declared from inside.

  "Okay," Rachel said reluctantly. She let Kayla out and stepped back inside. Kayla set the dog down and petted her some more. The dog actually turned around in a small circle with excitement, then came back to be petted some more.

  Okay, that was too much, Rachel had to pet her again. She tried to come out again, but there was a small struggle with Kayla and it ended up being Rachel petting Poppy with her right arm and Kayla petting her with her left.

  The dog seemed to understand there were two of them there and took turns looking at each side of her face.

  'Your maid took her after you... died,' Zane said from within. Then after an anxious pause, 'We've all had enough dog slobber. Right?'

  Rachel laughed. Kayla gave her back the body again. Rachel picked the dog up for one last hug and then she set her down. She managed to get out of the gate without Poppy following, but as they walked away Poppy began to bark, tail still wagging.

  Eventually a light in the house came on and Rachel hurried back down the road they had come from. To the car she suddenly realized Zane had left back at the cemetery.

  She started to run then, just to feel alive, just to feel the cold air on her face. Just to get away from all these reminders of her "death."

  She slowed down to a walk again after a block or so. She was still confused. She still felt trapped. In whatever someone else had made of her life. She would have to find a way to get it back.

  'That's the idea...' Zane said from the back of her mind.

  And then everything started to fade again, the world went away until there was nothing but black. And then not even that. She was gone.

  Chapter 8

  A cool breeze on her left cheek woke her from a muddled dream of nothing. She became aware that she was in the car again, driving quickly down a country road at night. She was not in control of the body, however, as it sped the car along the road.

  "What are you doing here, Rach?" The body said aloud. It was Zane.

  'I don't know,' Rachel said from within.

  "This isn't a good time for you to wake up," Zane said.

  'Why?' Rachel asked, aware that the last time they sped along a road there was an accident.

  "Because I'm about to do one of those things you don't like," Zane said. Her voice was cold as usual, but this time there was an edge of emotion under it. Anger? Fear?

  'Put me back inside then,' Rachel said dejectedly. She couldn't believe she was about to witness another murder. Isn't this one of the things they should stop?

  "I would if I could," Zane said. "You seem to have a mind of your own," she smiled wryly.

  Then she began to slow down. She turned off the headlights and pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped.

  'Lying in wait,' Rachel said from inside, depressed.

  "Not for long," Zane said. "This one has a routine."

  She was right. Within five minutes, someone had appeared about 100 yards down the road. She began to walk down it, away from them. She wore baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, had long light brown hair down her back, may have been around their age.

  Zane began to creep slowly along the road. Then increased her speed, the lights still off.

  The woman walked along the side of the road and clearly thought the car would pass her, as she didn't turn.

  But just before Zane got to her she did turn, perhaps annoyed by the speed of the car. Terror flashed in her eyes in the millisecond before she was hit. Rachel couldn't believe it either. Zane's heart was beating fast.

  The car hit the woman and she flew through the air and landed about 20 feet from them. From where Zane had slammed on her brakes. Rachel was sure she'd heard bones cracking.

  Zane turned the headlights on. The woman was starting to move. Trying to. She had slid or rolled across the pavement and was covered in blood from cuts and scrapes. Her leg seemed broken, set at a crooked angle. She whimpered and moaned.

  'What did you do?' Rachel cried from inside.

  But Zane was filled with a fury and didn't answer. She grabbed her gun from the seat beside her and got out of the car. She walked coldly over to the woman writhing on the ground.

  The woman looked up. She was having trouble breathing, holding her hand gingerly to her ribs, which had probably broken when she'd slammed back onto the ground. Possibly injured her lung. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked up at Zane. "Why?" she rasped out.

  Zane made no answer, only pointed her gun at the woman and shot once into her chest. The woman winced when the bullet hit, then went limp. The bullet must have gone straight to her heart.

  Zane's fury was fading and so was her hold on the body. Rachel actually felt Zane shed a tear as she pushed forward to control the body.

  "Who was this, Zane?!" Rachel demanded as she crouched down to try to feel a pulse on the woman's neck. There was none, but now there was blood on her hands.

  She tossed the gun aside as she stood up again.

  "WHO was it, Zane?" she asked again firmly.

  Zane came to the fore again, "It was an operative," she said. Her coldness almost returned.

  "What exactly is an operative?" Rachel said angrily, taking over again.

  Zane took the body back. "WE are an operative," she said, almost too quietly.

  They took turns using the body. Rachel asked in disbelief, "She was one of us?"

  "Yes."

  "You killed one of US?!" Rachel yelled at Zane. "What the hell did she do?"

  Zane snapped. She yelled back angrily now too, and full of fear and pain, "She couldn't be programmed!" She calmed slightly. "She went rogue. She tried to get away, Rach! You see what they will do!"

  Rachel was silent. She suddenly realized what could happen to them. If they didn't obey.

  Rachel was crying. Zane may have been too, but she sounded calmer now, more calculating as she said, "I think they know I'm trying to wake you up. I think they gave me this assignment to prove a point."

  "And why DID you wake me up?!" Rachel yelled suddenly, taking over the body with a fury. "It's not like I want to witness this!" She grabbed the gun and stalked back to the car. She got in, turned it on, and started to drive. Zane couldn't even take control of the body anymore. Rachel was too filled with rage and determination.

  'Where are you going?' Zane said from inside, angry she co
uldn't take over.

  "Which way home?" Rachel said.

  Nothing.

  "WHICH WAY HOME?" Rachel yelled.

  'Back the other way,' Zane said.

  Rachel angrily did a squealing u-turn and zoomed back along the other way.

  'Take the exit. Right on Glacier, left on Towne, number 4117.' Zane said crisply.

  Rachel sped along that route much faster than she should.

  "I know a way I can stop you," Rachel said coldly, looking at her own reflection in the rear view mirror.

  Zane held her breath.

  "I could run this car right into a tree," she said, tears streaming.

  'You don't want to do that. You'd kill yourself.'

  "There is no me!" Rachel yelled at her.

  She sped up to her own house when she recognized it and slammed on the brakes, almost hitting the mailbox.

  She quickly climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind her, still carrying the gun.

  "I know exactly how to make you stop," Rachel muttered as she opened the unlocked door and stormed into her own living room.

  The light was on, Tom was there, sitting in a recliner. She barely noticed. Kayla and he must have agreed to meet here. He jumped up when he saw how upset she was.

  "Kayla?" he said, looking worried.

  "Rachel," she said with almost a growl. "And DON'T try to stop me," she said, briefly pointing the gun at him. "You have no idea what I've been up to."

  "Rachel, calm down," he said, but was afraid to approach her. "Tell me why there's blood on your hands," he was trying to sound calm.

  "Because there's always blood on my hands," she said loudly, hysterically. "What do you think ZANE does for a living?!" she shouted.

  Zane and Kayla were both trying to wrestle Rachel for control of the body, but neither could come anywhere close to getting it back. But they kept shouting at her. Zane, 'Don't be stupid! There are other ways to fix this!' And Kayla, 'Please don't do this, Rachel! Please! Please!'

  It was loud inside her head, it was loud outside her head. Tom was inching closer to her, almost whispering, "Give me the gun, Rachel. Come on, give me the gun..." It was hanging at her side, but she was gripping it fiercely.

  She shoved him and then pointed it at him again.

  "She murders people, Tom!" she shouted as fresh tears burned down her cheeks. "And I will stop her," she said with a desperate laugh. She raised the gun to the side of her head and tried to pull the trigger.

  Nothing happened.