William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

“Of course it isn’t.”

“For that matter,” Granger said, “I wish I’d reacted faster.”

“There was no way anyone could have predicted what this bastard would do. He took out three security officers, for God’s sake, with that magic drug of his.” O’Bannon pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead. “Darcy, please go get some ice cream.”

“No. I will stay here.”

“Darcy, we have our best officers working on this case. The best thing you-”

“I am not going for ice cream. I am going to help.”

“Darcy, you’re not a police officer.”

“I could be!” He turned, and although he did not quite make eye contact, he looked in the direction of his father. “You-you-you always w-w-wanted me to be a policeman. So I will be a policeman.”

“Darcy…”

“You-you d-d-don’t think I can do it.”

“These men have been through years of training and-”

“I can do it. I can do training.”

O’Bannon turned for help to Granger, who was pointedly looking away as if he were not paying attention. “You have some… special challenges, Darcy.”

“Everyone has special challenges.”

“But we have to be realistic and-”

“Do you think that any of your officers could decode the Bad Man’s messages? Because I do not think any of your officers could decode the Bad Man’s messages.”

O’Bannon craned his neck. “That was a special situation. You need to go home, Darcy. When I get back tonight, we’ll talk more. Maybe we can make popcorn.”

“No!” Darcy threw down his hands. “I do not need popcorn or ice cream or going home. I will help on this case, even if you don’t think I can. Susan thought I could help and I did help. I did!” He marched to the door, his eyes watering. “I m-m-may be an idiot, Dad, but Susan needs me. And I am going to help her.”

Am I dead? I wondered as the light streamed into my eyes. It wasn’t a warm sensation-more like the grinding of gears against metal, brakes after the brake pads have worn. I should’ve been surrounded by darkness, I remember thinking, but instead I was immersed in light, too much light, white hot and blinding. I wanted to turn away from it but found that I couldn’t move.

“Hello, sugar bear.”

David again. I wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t exactly relieved, either. But he was something to look at. As always.

“What are you doing here? Do you know what happened to me?”

He didn’t have to answer. He gave me that soft, knowing look, the one he always used to disarm my wrath.

“I feel so… stupid. So ashamed.”

“You shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” A thought occurred-I should try to open my eyes. I needed to orient myself, separate the real from the imagined. “I think I’m… broken.”

“You did before.”

“But this is… different. This seems… I don’t know. Final. Unrecoverable.”

“I’ve felt like that.”

I looked at him unflinchingly, peering into the depths of those overwhelming blue eyes. “I guess you must’ve.”

“But here’s what you need to remember, Susan.”

“You’re giving me advice?”

“This is what you already know. What you’ve always known. What I could never figure out. When you forgive others, you’re not doing them a big favor. You’re doing yourself a big favor.”

“David.” All at once I wanted to reach out, wanted to hold him, wanted to bring him back to me and never let him go. “Am I dead?”

“What do you think?”

“I think… I saw someone. Something. Before you. It was beckoning to me.”

“And you think it was…?”

“You know what I think it was.”

“You think it was Death.”

“Can you tell me what to do?”

He smiled that goddamned irresistible grin. “Well, if he wants to play chess with you, don’t.”

“How long has he been in there?” Lisa asked.

“Days,” O’Bannon replied. They both peered through the window of the door to the small police library where Darcy had taken up residence. He had his books, an evidence file, and an Internet connection. “I’ve been sending in food-pizza and stuff-and sometimes he eats it. I don’t know when was the last time he slept.”

“What does he hope to find?”

“I don’t know. I’ve asked, but he can’t really explain it. He just starts stuttering and flapping his hands. I think maybe he has some crazy idea that if he punishes himself enough, it will bring Susan back.”

“What do you think?”

O’Bannon looked away. “You know what I think. What everyone thinks.”

Lisa’s face crumpled. She pressed a hand against the wall to prop herself up. “I should’ve been with her that night. She called me, but I was off on a date with some loser I didn’t even know. If I’d been with her-”

“He might’ve taken you both.”

She shook her head, brushing away her tears. “No. I could’ve stopped it. It’s my fault.”

O’Bannon walked to the water fountain and splashed cold water on his face. “You sound like Darcy. He says the same thing.” He used his shirtsleeve to dry himself off. “Susan had been so depressed, felt so isolated. I think she thought she had lost everything, that no one loved her anymore.” His teeth clenched. “My God. She had no idea.”

“Is there anything more you could be doing?” Lisa asked, her voice cracking. “Anything I could be doing?”

“Believe me, we’re trying everything possible and then some. We’ve reassigned all available manpower and borrowed more from neighboring jurisdictions. We’re tracking down every lead we get, every sighting. So far, they’ve all been bogus.”

Lisa covered her face. “I’ve-I’ve seen the pictures.”

“Damn! What irresponsible-”

“I made him. This reporter I know at the Courier. He showed me.” She pushed herself into the corner, eyes wet and wide. “My God, do you think it’s even possible? Could she still be alive?”

“I don’t know,” O’Bannon said, swearing under his breath. “And at this point, I don’t know if she’d want to be.”

The first sense to return was my sense of smell. There was an acrid bitterness in the air, kind of like coffee left too long on the burner. And there was something else, something fouler. Sour milk. No, that wasn’t it, but it was like that. Stale, stinky. Something I didn’t want to be near.

Then I heard the sounds. Wind whistled in my ears, and I felt cold. And a pounding, crashing sound, an auditory sense of motion. It was that rushing water noise, same thing I’d heard before. A forceful sound, the kind that could sweep me up and wash me away.

I wished it would.

My eyes finally opened on a bleak field of gray. Was I in the desert? I wondered. On a mountaintop? Took me more than a few moments to realize what I was staring at had to be an overcast sky, since I was lying flat on my ass. Literally. Because I was naked.

I suppose that shouldn’t have been a big surprise, all things considered. I was on something hard and flat and grainy. Dirty. It was in my skin and under my fingernails. I wondered how long I had been there. A long time, I thought.

I tried moving and was amazed to find I actually could. My joints were stiff, stiff to the point of near immobility. My skin hurt. But I forced myself. I sat up, and it couldn’t have taken more than half an hour or so.

I surveyed my surroundings. I was in some kind of gravel pit, white and chalky, no one else around as far as I could see. The crashing sound I’d heard was water, huge tumbling quantities of water, tumbling down not far from where I lay.

Eventually I had to turn my attention to myself, in all my glory. My skin was red and scorched, except for the bruises, which were many. I was exposed, floppy, veined, dirty, about as unattractive as it was possible for a woman to be. I repulsed myself.