“Are you going to be able to handle this, Row?” she asked me after a brief moment.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted.
“You have to,” she said, nearly pleading. “I need you to.”
The driver-side door opened, creaking and popping on its tired hinges. A rush of wind blew in through the opening, bringing a quick chill to the interior of the van. I looked over my shoulder to see Ben climbing in. A moment later, the passenger door levered open as well, and Agent Mandalay quickly filled the other seat.
“How is she doing?” Constance asked, turning toward us before she’d even closed the door.
I twisted to the side and turned to answer, but Felicity spoke before I could, her strained tone an audible barometer of her condition. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Constance insisted.
“Aye,” Felicity answered with a shallow nod. “But I wouldn’t mind getting this over with, then. Soon.”
“I can understand that.”
“What about… What about you, Constance?” my wife inquired, breathing through a stab of pain mid- sentence.
“I’m okay,” Mandalay replied. “Not a scratch.”
“I’m sorry,” Felicity said.
Mandalay cocked her head to the side and looked at her with a befuddled expression. “For what?”
“That you had to shoot him,” she replied. “I know it’s hurting you. I can feel it.”
Constance fell silent but continued to hold my wife’s gaze with her own. Her expression told me that she hadn’t expected anyone to see past her femme fatale facade.
“You ready to roll back there?” Ben called over his shoulder as he started the van and gunned the engine.
“Just drive,” my wife instructed.
“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it,” he replied, then directed himself to Constance. “Door.”
Mandalay continued to sit motionless, distant introspection in her eyes.
“Yo, Mandalay,” Ben repeated as he poked her shoulder with his index finger. “Door.”
“What?” Agent Mandalay broke from her rearward stare. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”
He started the van rolling forward even as Mandalay was pulling the door shut and then hooked it into a tight turn. I was still kneeling next to Felicity, and I braced myself against her armrest as Ben whipped the vehicle around, heading us back out onto the main thoroughfare.
“Row, get in your seat,” Felicity told me.
“I’m fine right here.”
“No you aren’t,” she returned. “Ben is driving.”
“Jeez…” my friend muttered.
“She knows you,” Constance quipped, her voice still somewhat distant.
“Don’t you start too,” he replied, then over his shoulder he asked, “Two-seventy to Illinois, right?”
“Aye.”
“Ya’know, you never did say why.”
“Just a feeling.”
“Jeez… I gotta be nuts…” he muttered, then asked, “It’s a strong feeling, right?”
“Very.”
“Good, ‘cause my ass is hangin’ way out on this one.”
“Like it hasn’t before?” I asked.
“Not as bad as this,” he responded, and I knew he was serious. He paused, then asked, “Okay, so across the bridge and then where?”
“I’ll let you know when I know.”
“I thought this was a strong feelin’?”
“It is,” Felicity replied. “And we’ll be counting on some more when we get closer.”
“Yeah, great. So, what do I do if ya’ start goin’ la-la on us?”
She answered without hesitation, “Drive faster.”
CHAPTER 37:
“P… p… pleee… pleasssse…” Felicity whimpered pitifully as tears streamed across her cheeks. “H… hel… hellpp meeee…”
“Hold on,” I whispered, struggling to keep my voice from cracking with the bitter fear that was constricting my throat. There was dampness on my own face, and I knew that I was silently weeping for myself as well as her.
I was doing my best to keep her grounded, but it was no longer doing any good. Her connection with Kimberly Forest was so deeply ingrained that they had all but become one person. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even sure which one of them I was talking to at any given moment.
“I… I… I can’t…” she stuttered, her voice a thin whine as her body tensed.
She groaned, sending out a low, unearthly sound that instantly set about rending my heart with unimaginable fury. Her back arched, and her body began to actually vibrate.
I watched helplessly as she shook. She was twisting violently in the seat as her face contorted into a mask of pure torment. I had to steel myself against everything I was seeing and feeling, otherwise I knew I would spin into an emotional crash. I didn’t know if I was doing her any good right now, but I knew for a fact that I would be worse than useless if I lost control; I would be a liability.
I was out of my seat and kneeling next to her once again. This time, however, she was in no condition to object. Her hand was clamped around mine, squeezing my fingers until they had gone almost completely numb. Even as she shuddered through the waves of pain, she never let go.
Neither did I.
As we both suspected would happen, her pain had gradually intensified the closer we came to the Chain of Rocks Bridge. Each mile that ticked away had brought with it a new level of torture that she would fight to endure. And, each time she would seem to bring it under some modicum of control, it would suddenly advance another notch up the scale, forcing her to begin the struggle once again.
As I said, this is almost exactly what we had expected to happen, so it came as no shock. We were as prepared for it as we could be under the circumstances, or so we thought- because, it was what we had not even considered that now blindsided us with the force of a locomotive.
Once we had crossed the river, those gradual increases immediately transformed into hastened attacks, unfolding themselves geometrically. Within minutes, the ethereal torture had vaulted to such a degree that the waves were overlapping one another. She could no longer cope, and she was reduced to a state of constant agony. The frightening speed at which this occurred caught us both unaware and completely without recourse.
And, it only got worse.
Within five minutes of crossing the Mississippi, Felicity had moved even beyond simple agony. And, by the time we started over the short expanse of the Canal Bridge, she was delirious.
“We have to be close,” I said as I looked over my shoulder at Ben, the rampant anxiety beginning to consume me. “She can’t take much more.”
“Can’t you do anything to help her?” Constance asked.
“Don’t you think I’ve fucking tried!” I snapped, then immediately caught myself. “Gods… Constance, I’m sorry… It’s…”
She cut me off. “I understand, Rowan. Don’t worry. What can we do to help?”
“Find this prick and kill him,” I blurted.
“We’ll be coming up on Route Three in just a minute,” Ben announced. “Should I keep going or turn?”
“I don’t know,” I answered quickly and then twisted back to my wife. “Felicity… Honey… Talk to me…”
Her chin was pressed against her chest, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She was literally squealing, as if a high-pitched scream was caught in her throat, escaping only in a thin stream of torturous noise. She snapped her
