John Locke - Maybe

“My name’s Miranda.”

“I don’t give a shit! You could be Martha fucking Washington, for all I care! What I want to know is what are you doing with my daughter’s boyfriend?”

Miranda looks at me.

I look at Sherry.

“How’ve you been, Sherry? You appear sober.”

“You’re not putting me away, Donovan. You want to make someone miserable? Let Miranda spend some time in that nasty fuck hole.”

Miranda says, “No thanks. I saw the view from both angles just now, and it’s not working for me.”

I say, “Sherry’s talking about the underground bunker at Mount Weather. That’s where Rachel’s eggs are being harvested by government scientists.”

Miranda says, “See? This is why I love hanging out with you! Where else am I going to hear these types of conversations?”

I look at Lou. “You told Sherry about Mount Weather?”

“I did,” Lou says.

“But how did you know about the exchange?”

“Doc Howard told me.”

Sherry says, “I don’t give a rat’s ass who told who!”

“Whom,” Miranda says.

“Fuck you, whore!” Sherry says. She turns to me and says, “You’re not exchanging me for Rachel. Tell him, Lou.”

“Yeah, tell me, Lou.”

Lou clears his throat and says, “I agreed to let Sherry leave. We’ve got no right to hold her here against her will.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Yes. But I’ll take her.”

Sherry looks at Lou. “Kill him if you have to, Lou. But don’t let him touch me!”

Lou gives me a pleading look, and I can see what’s going on. Lou’s been romancing Sherry, telling her how important and powerful he is. To gain her confidence, he told her my plans to get her sober and exchange her for Rachel. Then he promised to protect her from the big, bad Creed. Bought her expensive jewelry and clothes, and eventually seduced her. But now I’ve popped in, and Lou’s afraid Sherry’s going to see him in a different light.

“Let’s talk about this outside,” Lou says.

“Fair enough.”

He and I step outside. As we do, my phone vibrates. It’s Sal Bonadello, crime boss.

“What’s up?” I say.

“My Fourth of July party,” he says.

“You already invited me.”

“What about your blonde? You said you’d ask her. What’s her name? Callie? My party needs-whatcha call-pizzazz! Callie in a bikini? Yowzer!”

“Callie’s not a party animal.”

“Talk her into it.”

“I don’t know, Sal. The kind of people you’ll have there…”

“What about them?”

“Someone’s bound to hit on her.”

“So?”

“Callie hits back.”

“What’s that mean?”

“She might kill some of your guests.”

“I’ll put the word out. Hands off this one. But I gotta see her. And you.”

“You want me to wear a bikini too?”

“No, jerk wad. I might have some-whatcha call-gainful employment for you.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. That’s all you ever say.”

I hang up and look at Lou.

“Have you even bothered to tell your geeks to start searching the parameters we gave you?”

“Of course.” He looks at his watch. “They’ve been on it about forty minutes now.”

“This thing with Sherry Cherry,” I say. “How long has it been going on?”

“Long enough. I love her, Donovan.”

“She’s been here less than two months.”

“Doesn’t matter. Things are good between us.”

“Are you saying we’re at an impasse?”

He stares into my eyes, searching for hope. Finding none, he says, “Can you at least give us a few days?”

“Give me proof Doc Howard is Darwin, and that he’s dead.”

“If I provide it, you’ll let her stay?”

Yesterday Rachel threatened to kill Gwen. I believe her, she’s killed before.

“I’m in no rush to have Rachel on the outside,” I say. “She’s getting worse. If you can protect Sherry, she can stay here until I’m convinced Rachel’s functional.”

“I told Sherry she could leave.”

“She leaves with me or stays here on the compound. Those are your choices.”

“Why?”

“If something happens to Sherry, the government will never release Rachel.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t.”

“Maybe not. But I hope you don’t intend to take that option away from me.”

“Me? Of course not! I love Sherry. I want her here.”

“You’re aware of her history with drugs?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll protect her?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I have your word?”

He pauses, knowing what that means.

“Yes,” Lou says. “You have my word.”

We go back in the room. Sherry looks at Lou, hopefully.

I say, “Sherry, there’s good news and bad. Which do you want to hear first?”

Sam Case.

THE TRIP TO Vegas is the worst of Sam’s life. One of the excellent doctors at Mount Weather set his broken nose yesterday, but of course it’s killing him today. Pain killers would be nice, but Sam won’t take them before meeting Maybe Taylor this afternoon. Pain killers could fog his brain, and he’ll need his wits if he’s going to talk Maybe into flying back east to kill Sherry Cherry.

Sam hadn’t considered he might feel severe pressure building up in his nose as the plane begins its initial descent into Las Vegas, but that’s exactly what happens. To make matters worse, his swollen nose has blocked his nasal passages and made him congested to the point his ears feel like they’re going to explode.

He tries not to cry out in pain, but he’s aware his dull moaning noises are annoying the passengers around him. He dabs at his nose with a cocktail napkin. Within seconds, it’s soggy with blood.

“That’s abhorrent!” the lady next to him says. “You need to do something!”

“Sorry,” Sam says.

“Are you crying ?” she says.

“Probably.”

The pain in his face and ears is excruciating, and blood’s dripping from his nose faster than his napkin can contain it. Sam looks up to see the fasten seat belt sign lit and knows the flight attendants are buckled in for the landing. He asks the passengers around him if anyone has an extra cocktail napkin he can use, but either they didn’t hear him, or pretend not to. The lady next to him says, “That’s just great,” and fishes two tampons from her purse.

“It’s all I’ve got,” she says. “Do not bleed on my outfit.”

Sam accepts the tampons gratefully, opens them, and inserts one into each nostril as expertly as if he’d done it a hundred times.

“I hope you get toxic shock syndrome,” she says.

Sam packed light, so he doesn’t have to wait at baggage claim. He moves his jaw from side to side and pulls on his ears, trying to open them up. He gets one open in time to answer his cell phone.

“Where the hell have you been?” Darwin says.

“I just landed in Vegas. What’s wrong?”

“Donovan Creed is ruining your plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“He landed in Roanoke two hours ago.”

“Why’s that a problem?”

“Check your messages. I’ve left three.”

Sam makes his way to a quiet area and leans against the wall. “Since you’re already on the phone, can you just explain the problem?”

“Roanoke is near Creed’s headquarters, Sensory Resources. The place you met Doc Howard. The place they kept you after your snake bite. Does any of this ring a bell?”