David Dun - Overfall

“I can’t talk about it. It’s research.”

“Sounds fascinating. Whatever you can tell me I would love to hear.”

She hesitated. She knew she could trust him. “I’m researching things-interesting things. Like today I was learning things about Fiji. Taveuni Island.”

“Fiji?”

“Yeah.”

“What about Fiji?”

“You know, I shouldn’t get into it. Not even with someone I trust. There are rules here.”

“I understand. Will you be going to Fiji?”

“No. But others will.”

After more small talk she hung up, feeling intrigued, more so than she could remember. He was a nice man. She grabbed her robe and headed for the refrigerator. There were men about the place, so she had been told to wear something.

As she walked down the hall past the living room and into the kitchen, she saw the bowl of soup again on the table and the note from Jill.

She tossed the note and sat down with the soup after she had crushed some saltines and sprinkled them on top. A quick blast from the microwave and inside of four minutes she had the soup down.

It was savory, surprisingly so, heavy with spices and the flavor of barbecue sauce.

She decided to call Jill at the office.

“You can’t sleep?” Jill said.

“My body seems to be on full alert.”

“Still thinking about the alarm?”

“Uh-huh. You know, I have hated my father for as long as I can remember and I don’t even know him,” Grady said.

“At least you feel something and you have a name for what you feel. What is your first memory of your father?”

“Seeing him at work on his chalkboard. It’s about the only memory.”

“There’s some yogurt in the fridge and some marion-berry jam.”

“Sure, why not? Might as well get fat now that I don’t get naked for a living.”

“Don’t ever let El Numero Uno hear that. We’ll be running to New York.”

It was a roomy kitchen with a breakfast table in an alcove. For some reason Jill loved Early American decor, and the place looked like the inside of an upscale farmhouse.

“Grady?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think you should wait until you meet your father before you finally decide about him?”

“He’s an asshole. He had to be. Think about it.”

“You’re not sure.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re still fighting yourself about it.”

“Yeah, well, the Dad part of me is losing. I promise.”

“I would like to meet your father.”

“Good luck. He’s a paranoid creep.”

“Uh-huh,” Jill said.

“I have a guy I like,” Grady began. “I was worried about treating him like shit. I promised to call him. Anyway, I broke the rules and called him a few times to let him know I was okay.”

“What do you mean? When?”

“Four times. Twice at the beach house, once when I registered at the junior college, and once tonight. But tonight I said good-bye for a few days until we get the rules about phone calls worked out.”

“We’ve got to tell Sam. Don’t you understand this is not about deportment? It’s about security. This changes everything about the alarm, about everything. And Sam is going to kick my ass. I’m responsible for you. Don’t you get it?”

“Look, it was nothing. I told him nothing. I just said I was all right.”

“You should have told us. Tell me word for word everything you said.”

“The first call was when we were at the cabin when I couldn’t call. Then at the phone booth.”

“I knew it. The day you came running.”

“Well, that too. But I did it again with a guy named Clint from next door. He and his friend drove me.”

“Clint is a distant cousin of Sam’s. He was a plant. The call at the phone booth was bugged.”

“Wow. Should have figured it. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Now what about the last two times?”

Grady recounted it, afraid of what Sam would say. More afraid than she would have thought possible.

“So all you did was tell him that you are in college, you have a job, and you’re okay?”

“I told him I did research because I wanted to impress him.”

“You said nothing about where you were, who you worked for, or what you did except research?”

“That’s right. Way back when, I said the beach house was near Carmel.”

“I’m telling Sam right now. He just got here. The Chellis people could find you with what you told them. Especially about college. We would nail your ass with that info. If your boyfriend is on their payroll, they will probably find you.”

“He’s not selling me out. That’s ridiculous.”

“Still, you screwed this up big time. You and I are going to have to move out of the house. You’ll need a new name. New school. Do you realize that?”

“Why?”

“I’m too upset to explain right now, Grady. Let me talk to Sam and I’ll call you back.”

“Do you have to?”

“You know, it’s a real problem that you have to ask.” Jill hung up.

“Hello, kid.”

Grady jumped as if scalded. A strange bearded man stood in the corner. He held a silenced pistol.

“Who are you?”

“Afraid I can’t say. On the other hand, since you’re going to die, maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“I feel funny,” Grady said, suddenly dizzy.

“I hope you enjoyed the soup.”

“What was it?”

“What you’re feeling is an alkaloid extracted from Chondodendron tomentosum, Strychnos toxifera, and a few other ingredients. Then there was something to cause it to quickly enter your bloodstream through the stomach lining. That’s the brilliant part.”

Grady stood and grabbed the table for support. A terrible weakness was overtaking her.

“My leg is shaking.”

“Yes, I can tell you liked my recipe. You may have heard of the active ingredients referred to as curare. That’s a native term for a group of organic molecules that come from certain plant species, and are mixed by the natives of South America with poison from bugs and spiders. I rely on the primary plant alkaloid mixed with various pharmaceuticals. Without purification and treatment the stuff is too bitter to disguise even with barbecue sauce and herbs. I’m actually very proud of the recipe.”

Grady’s face sank near the tabletop; her whole body was shaking now.

“I will pick you up.”

He threw her over his shoulder.

“Bastard,” Grady gasped.

“Soon you’ll long for my kisses-it’s the only way you’ll be able to breathe.”

Grady tried to scream and failed. She watched, fully alert, as he carried her into the bedroom. She could feel everything down to the hair on his arms and the warmth of the bedclothes under her back. But she couldn’t move, not even to roll over.

The room was dark, lit only by a night-light in the wall socket. She saw a match strike and watched him light a candle. Her abductor stepped away, and she heard the sound of the shower in her bathroom. He returned to her side.

“The beauty of this drug is that you remain fully conscious. I don’t have to listen to you scream because you can’t.”

He turned her head so that she could see him. Then it occurred to her that he wanted to see the terror in her eyes.

“Soon you will not be able to respirate.”

He pulled his chair very close, pressed his lips to hers, and she could feel the monster’s breath expand her lungs.

“Breath from heaven.” He actually smiled. “Or is it from hell?”

Again he pressed his lips to hers and filled her lungs. Her vision was as if down a tunnel but he was there, his face in the flickering candlelight. He pulled off his beard. Again he pressed his lips to hers and breathed for her.

“I want you to see me as I am. I want you to see the man who is breathing the breath of life into you and the man who will snuff it out.”