Tandem

“She can’t go out in the city dressed like that. We should change her clothes.”

The thought of being undressed by a stranger made my insides seize up, but Grant said, “She can change herself when she wakes up. I’ve got clothes for her to wear.” I relaxed a little—but only a little. Who knew what Grant and this other man were capable of?

“You’re the boss,” the man said, his voice tinged with bitter resignation. A rough hand grabbed my arm and I felt the pressure of a thumb on the inside of my wrist. “Pulse is up. She’s coming around.”

“Finally.” The bed dipped as Grant sat down next to me. I knew it was him; I could smell that same piney scent he’d been wearing the night of the prom. How long ago had that been? It seemed like a million years. “Sasha, can you hear me?”

I didn’t respond. I knew I could open my eyes now, speak, maybe even sit up, but I wasn’t going to do so on his command. “Sasha? Come on, you have to get up.”

There was the voice of the Grant I knew. Even now it stirred up a little whirlwind of yearning. What if I was wrong after all? The idea that Grant would ever do anything to hurt me was impossible to comprehend. But there was no denying that something had happened, and if it hadn’t been his doing, I couldn’t imagine whose it would be.

I couldn’t let this go on any longer. I pressed down on all those tender feelings, the echoes of what had once been. I imagined them calcifying inside of me, hardening in my chest like cement so that nothing he could say would ever affect me again. I was almost as enraged with myself for being tricked as I was with him for tricking me. And though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, somewhere deep down I was unlearning to trust my own heart.

“How about a shock?” the other man suggested, his threat accompanied by the sound of electricity crackling. A Taser. But I was so distracted by Grant’s closeness that I couldn’t find it in me to be afraid of this man and his weapon. Grant was the true enemy. He was the one who’d lied to me, and, if I was reading the situation correctly, the one in charge.

“Don’t even think about it,” Grant commanded. He doesn’t want to hurt me, I realized. But I shoved the thought away. Yet, I told myself savagely. He doesn’t want to hurt me yet.

“Just get her up and out of here already if you’re so determined to go,” the man grumbled. “Maybe people will be so distracted by the rally they won’t look twice at her.”

“Sasha, I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.” Grant eased one of my eyelids open with his thumb. My mind went blank and I reacted on impulse, sitting straight up and slapping his hand away. He jerked back, his eyes wide, as if he was surprised to see me there. He lifted his hand as if to touch me, but I wasn’t about to let him get close enough.

“Don’t!” I cried. I glanced around for something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing within reach. The last place I remembered being was Oak Street Beach, but now I was in a large basement apartment. It was dim inside and practically empty but for the bed, a couple of chairs, and a large metal standing locker. There were two small rectangular windows at the opposite side of the room near the ceiling, but they had been blacked out; the only light in the room came from a few bare bulbs overhead.

An old man, hunched and bald, passed into view. He smirked at me; with his absurdly wide mouth and skin that hung off his skull in fleshy folds, he reminded me of a bullfrog. It would’ve struck me as comical if not for the Taser in his hand and the gun at his belt.

“What did you do to me?” I demanded.

“Take it easy,” Grant warned. “You need to calm down. You’ve been through a lot.”

“No shit!” I met his eyes with a furious glare. The coppery terror was sharp in my mouth. “What is this place?”

“It’s our Chicago safe house,” Grant said, glancing at the door. Though it looked heavy and industrial, he was eyeing it as if he expected someone to kick it open at any second. “But I’m not really sure how safe it is anymore, so we have to leave as soon as possible. Here.” He placed a blue corduroy backpack— my blue corduroy backpack, the old one I’d carried to school when I was a kid, long ago consigned to the back of my closet—on the bed. It looked small and foreign in his hands, like an artifact from someone else’s life. “There are some clothes inside, and a few toiletries. You can clean up and change in the bathroom before we leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him. “Except home.”

The sun was streaming in through the small gap at the bottom of the front door. It was broad daylight outside. Granddad was going to be out of his mind with worry, but if I was still in Chicago then I couldn’t be too far away. What time was it, anyway? How long had I been gone? There was no clock in the room, and Grant was unlikely to tell me.

Grant shook his head. “You can’t go home.”

“Watch me,” I said, dropping the backpack and making a break for the door. The old man came out of nowhere, agile as a jungle cat in spite of appearances, and blocked my path.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Your home’s not out there.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s going to require a little bit of explanation,” Grant said, rising from the bed and picking up the backpack. He shoved it at me. “Go get changed. Then we’ll talk.”

I stared at him in total disbelief. “What makes you think I’m going to do anything you say? You lied to me— you kidnapped me—and you think—” The words lodged in my throat. The expression on his face was inscrutable.

Grant gathered himself up to his full height; at six-two he was half a foot taller, and he towered over me. He was trying to intimidate me, and, what was worse, it was sort of working. When push came to shove, I was confident I could take the old man, but if Grant wanted to stop me he could. “You’re a smart girl, Sasha. You can probably tell you don’t have a lot of options right now, so you might as well just listen to me.”

Oh yeah? I thought. I might not have had Grant’s size, or the old man’s Taser, but I still had my voice. I took a deep breath and screamed as high and as loud as I possibly could.

Grant clapped his hand over my mouth. I clawed at his fingers, but he didn’t seem to feel it. He leaned in, and I caught that evergreen scent of his again; it made me gag.

“Be quiet,” he warned, his voice darkly serious. “You’re safe, Sasha, I promise. We’re not going to hurt you. Don’t be difficult.” I heard a note of pleading, but I didn’t care. He meant nothing to me. I didn’t even know him.

Slowly, he drew his hand away, though his body was still wrapped around mine and I could feel the tension that remained in his muscles. He was prepared to shut me up once more, if I chose to keep screaming, which meant it was useless to try. I wasn’t even sure I could; my previous attempt had made me light-headed. My arms hung loose at my sides, like snapped rubber bands, and I was starting to wonder if I would even be able to stand for much longer.

“Mayhew,” the old frog-faced man said in alarm.

“I know,” Grant replied. He released me, an uncertain expression on his face. “I need you to go get ready to leave, now.”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Grant said. “But for now you have to follow directions.”

“And then you’ll take me home?” I asked, although I suspected the answer was no. He wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of bringing me here just to turn around and let me go.

His face betrayed nothing. “Get changed. Then we’ll talk.”

“First tell me why I’m here,” I insisted.

He turned sharply. “Let me explain how this works,” he said, in a voice so cold the temperature in the room seemed to dip ten degrees. “I give the orders, you follow them. I tell you what I want you to know, when I want you to know it. You want to go home? Then follow my instructions. Now: Go. Get. Changed.”

I stared into his eyes with as much bravado as I could muster, but he didn’t back down or look away. I hated to admit it, but it didn’t look like I had a choice. Anger—pure and unalloyed—had rushed in to replace the fear I’d felt before, burning it away. His word would not be the last. I was going to get away. It was only a matter of time