“But you said for me to let them check me over,” she replied sarcastically.
“Felicity…”
“Aye, all right, it is a bit cold, then,” she retorted, then directed herself to the paramedic. “But I suppose you can see that for yourself now, can’t you?”
“Go ahead and put your shirt back on, ma’am,” he stuttered.
She let go of her hair and slipped her arm back into the sleeve, then lifted her arms in a reverse of her earlier display.
“Honey, leave the poor guy alone,” I appealed. “He just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“And so I am,” she spat. “And, why are you on his side? I’m your wife.”
She finished pulling the shirt back over her head and then tugged it into place.
“Hey,” I said. “I seem to recall being in the same position a few months back, and you weren’t anywhere near as forgiving.”
“That was different,” she told me as she untucked her spiraling curls from her collar and brushed them back.
“How?” I asked, a note of incredulity in my voice.
“Because it was you and not me.”
“I see,” I replied with a nod. “Well, at least I was a little more cooperative.”
“That’s not my recollection.”
“I didn’t do a strip-tease.”
“I was just being cooperative, then.”
“How? By embarrassing everyone?”
“No,” she returned. “I’m simply trying to get us out of here.”
“Ben and Constance are waiting,” I told her. “It won’t take long.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Kimberly hasn’t the time to wait.”
With everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten that she had told me she remembered something from her excursion into the ethereal plane. I looked over at her and met her gaze.
“Do you still…” I started.
“Aye,” she shot back, her voice deadly serious as she nodded vigorously. “And, right now, we’re in the wrong damned place to do anything about it.”
CHAPTER 33:
“What the hell was all that with the strip tease?” Ben asked as he backed the van out of the parking space.
“I still can’t believe you did that,” Constance added, but you could almost hear the giggle in her voice.
My wife replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the answer was obvious, “Getting us out of there.”
“By takin’ your damn clothes off?”
“Aye, it worked didn’t it?”
“It embarrassed the kid,” Ben replied.
“And he couldn’t wait to get rid of me then, could he?”
“Yeah, maybe. I guess.”
“Then it worked.”
“You know they’re gonna be tellin’ stories about ya’ don’t ya’?”
“Aye, let them talk. They’ll be giving someone else a rest then,” Felicity remarked, then turned her attention to more pressing matters. With her next sentence, the deadpan delivery was gone and impatience suddenly underlined her words. “Have you found the map yet, Constance?”
“Still looking,” Mandalay called back to her.
The first thing Felicity had asked for when we climbed back into the van was a Missouri highway map. She gave no explanation other than that she needed the map, and she needed it right now.
Agent Mandalay continued rummaging about in the glove box, extracting all manner of Chinese take-out menus, receipts, and even Ben’s backup weapon. All the while, he was making haste for the nearest exit, looking to put some distance between Northwoods Mall and us.
I, for one, had absolutely no objection to that maneuver.
Eventually Constance extracted a wrinkled wad of semi-folded paper, gave it a quick glance, and then started to set it aside with the rest of the detritus.
“That’s it,” Ben announced before she dove in again.
“This?” she asked, holding it up. “For real?”
“Yeah, for real.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just give it to her, will’ya’?”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing anyway,” she muttered in reply as she handed the sample of origami-gone- bad back to Felicity. “Because I think something’s alive in there.”
My wife took the wad of paper and began looking for a free corner so she could unravel the map from itself. She reached up to click on the courtesy light but was met with nothing more than darkness and the popping noise of the switch.
“Bulb’s shot,” Ben offered.
“Obviously,” she returned, her irritation plainly audible. “And I can’t very well read this in the dark now can I?”
“Hey, you wanna chill?” he barked. “I’m workin’ on it.”
“Benjamin Storm!” she snapped in return. “Don’t you understand? We simply don’t have time to waste!”
“What did you just call me?” my friend asked, giving a quick glance back over his shoulder.
“That’s what she does when she gets serious,” I offered. “Uses your full name, just like her mother.”
Ben shifted his eyes back forward and immediately slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a rear end collision with a sports car. I couldn’t help but noticed that Constance instantly reached for the shoulder harness, pulled it across her chest, and stabbed the metal finger into the catch at her side.
“Yeah, well stop it, Felicity,” Ben called over his shoulder. “That just didn’t even sound right comin’ outta you.”
“Hey, just be glad she didn’t use your middle name,” I explained. “She does that when you’re in trouble.”
“Dammit, will you two quit joking,” Felicity demanded. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” I replied.
“Look, Felicity,” Ben replied as he turned the van toward the main exit. “I know we don’t have time. Trust me, I said it myself earlier, but a lotta shit has happened in the past two hours, and I’m still tryin’ ta’ get my bearings here.”
“Kimberly is being tortured!” my wife appealed, her voice rising slightly. “Don’t you get it?!”
“Goddamit, Felicity, yes! Yes, I get it. Isn’t that what I just said?” Ben growled. “Jeezus H. Christ, you’re worse than Rowan when it comes ta’ this shit!”
“Felicity,” Constance voiced, stepping into the role of mediator. “While neither Ben nor I can fully understand what you are going through, we do have a grasp of what’s happening. We’re on your side, but you are going to have to calm down.”
My wife huffed out a frustrated sigh and sat back hard in her seat. “Aye. I know. But the son-of-a-bitch is killing my friend.”
“Not if we can help it,” Mandalay replied with a note of compassion. “I promise.”
Ben angled the van toward the merge lane and shot forward into traffic, cutting off a small sedan in the process. Horns blared, but he continued wedging his vehicle into the flow of traffic anyway.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” he muttered as he shot an angry glance out his side window.
The light ahead of us winked yellow and my friend punched the accelerator, making the left hand turn onto
