John Locke - Saving Rachel

I need to speak, need to ask something, but I can’t seem to cough out the word. I try twice to get it out of my throat. Finally, it comes, as if everything will make sense if I can utter this one simple word: “Why?”

The voice answers, “Mary found out about Rachel and Kevin. She was going to tell you. Rachel didn’t want you to find out, so she hired a hit man to kill Mary.” Rachel is writhing on the floor in anguish. Karen looks at me, pity in her eyes. The voice says, “You remember seeing Mary at the park yesterday?” I nod.

“She was waiting there for you, felt safer meeting in a public place. She brought a co-worker with her, dressed as a policeman.”

The word comes easier this time. “Why?”

“Mary was afraid Kevin might follow you to the park and try something. She thought if Kevin saw her with a policeman, she’d be safe.”

“But … how did she know I was coming?” I say. “Wait a minute—” I look at Karen. “The guy dressed like a policeman. He was your friend.”

Karen smiles broadly and takes a theatrical bow. To the voice, she says, “Does this mean I’m done here?”

The voice says, “I suppose it does. Hang on a sec, we’ll drive you out. Sorry about the vacuum pump. We had to make it seem real.” Karen says, “No problem. I’ve been through worse.” Rachel and I are staring at each other, our mouths hanging open. “What the fuck is going on?” I say, finally. “Your worst nightmare,” the voice answers.

The room goes dark a moment and then light. Then Karen’s truck starts driving her away. As we watch her rolling toward the door, we hear her say, “Take care, Sam. You too, Rachel.” Then she says, “It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?”

When the garage door closes behind her, I say, “This whole thing was a setup. And Karen was in on it from the word go .” The voice says, “Ya think?” Rachel says, “This is bullshit! You’ve got your codes. Stop playing with us. Take your money and leave us alone!” The voice says, “We’ve got one more game for you.” Rachel says, “Fine. Just do it. Whatever it is, get on with it.” The voice says, “Rachel, I think you’re going to enjoy this game. Sam? Not so much.”

Chapter 30

“ Rachel,” the voice says, “Kevin has just regained consciousness. Would you like to see him?” Rachel perks up. “You mean he’s really in there?” “He is.” “Then yes!” she says. “Please!” She glances at me, shows me a half frown, and shrugs.

They do that thing with the lights going off a minute and then back on. From my vantage point, I can’t see Kevin the businessman and wife fucker. But Rachel can, and she likes what she sees. Tears of joy are streaming down her cheeks. “Oh God,” she says, “Oh God! Oh God! I thought I’d lost you!”

I’ve heard a lot of ominous statements these last thirty hours, but none that hit me as hard.

The voice says, “Rachel, Sam chose to save your life, so you’re good to go. The only question is which of these men will be going with you?”

“Excuse me?” I say.

“You had your chance to choose,” the voice says, “now it’s Rachel’s turn.”

Rachel and I exchange a look. I put everything I can into it, trying to get two years of courtship and six years of marriage into one look.

I say, “Rachel, you know I love you. I just proved it to you by picking you. You’ve cheated? Okay, fine, so have I. Let’s start fresh. Let’s end this shit and go home.”

Rachel nods back at me and addresses the voice, “I don’t have to go through all the motions like we did last time. For me, it’s a simple decision. I choose Kevin. Do whatever you want to Sam.” I literally fall to the floor. I hold my head with both hands, squeezing hard to keep my brains from exploding. “You’re certain?” the voice says. “Positive,” Rachel says. “Sorry, Sam. We had some good moments. I’ll try to remember them.”

I scramble to my feet, make my way to the wall closest to her, and place my hand on the Lucite. “Rachel!” I shout. I make a show of removing my wedding ring, just as she’d done moments earlier. I kiss it and put it back on. “We’re married,” I say. “We’re soul mates!”

It seems I’ve gotten through to her. Rachel looks long and hard at her wedding ring. She slowly spins it around her finger a couple of times, and I try to imagine what thoughts are playing in her head. I get my answer when she removes her wedding ring, kisses it, walks to her camping toilet, opens the lid, and tosses it in.

“I belong to Kevin now,” she says. “Everything I am, everything I have, is his.”

And that’s when it hits me: all this time, the one piece of the puzzle I have never been able to understand has just fallen into place. The white bra with the “K” and “V” that had me so freaked out, it doesn’t stand for Karen Vogel. It stands for Kevin Vaughn. The voice says, “Sam, would you like to have a chance to meet Kevin?” “Fuck you!” I say. “Fuck you all.”

Our captor must have the green tarp rigged to an electronic device because it falls away on its own. Kevin Vaughn and I stare at each other. He’s about to say something, but Rachel interrupts him, saying, “Don’t feel like you have to speak to him, Kevin. Just take me home now, honey, okay?”

I look in disbelief at the guy in the black Armani suit with the feathered, white-silk pinstripe. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt and a fiery red tie with a matching pocket square. I look at his sissy haircut and sissy shoes and say, “Is that how it’s going to be, Kevin? You’ve been sneaking around fucking my wife for six months, and now you’re going to what—move into my house, set up housekeeping with a woman who killed her own sister? A woman who, without a second thought, sentenced her own husband to die?”

Kevin clears his throat and says, “I think when you say it that way, you’re putting the worst possible face on the situation.”

“Is that how they teach you to talk in advertising school?”

Rachel says, “He’s not in the advertising business, you buffoon. I am. For your information, he owns a fifty-million-dollar company. How he talks is none of your business.”

“What type of product were you working on with him, some new type of condom?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Sam.”

“I saw a photograph of you on our kitchen floor. You were lying there in your bra and panties with a bondage ball in your mouth.” She thinks about it a moment. Then she smiles. “So?” “What was that, some sort of sex game?” “What’s the matter, Sam, you jealous?” “Maybe,” I say. “But I couldn’t help notice the picture was taken right around the time your sister was murdered.” “You’re insane. Stop, Sam. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I look at Kevin. “You took that picture?” Kevin tilts his head slightly and shrugs. “Asshole.”

The voice says, “Sam, thank you for the input. Kevin, looks like you win the prize: freedom and the lovely Rachel. I know it was an inconvenience, putting you in the cage, but at least you learned that Rachel’s love for you is sincere.”

Can you believe this guy?

The voice continues, “Sam, we’re sorry it wasn’t much of a contest. We can’t begin to understand how you must feel. But it’s all water under the bridge at this point, yes?”

“Not quite,” I say. “I’ve got a question for you, you vomitous piece of shit.”

The voice says, “We don’t believe ‘vomitous’ is a word. However, we’re beginning to see Rachel’s point about you being a sore loser.”

“I don’t care what you think about me,” I say. “But how do you expect to activate the codes? You’ve only got the first half of the sequence.”