The Horrors of the Futuregraph part II

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The Horrors of the Futuregraph

A NaNoWriMo 2011 science fiction project

50,000 words, 30 days, minor corrections. Bound to be mistakes, I make no apologies ;) Revisions to come (much) later!!

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_____ frowned. She moved her arms slowly and felt restricted. She looked down to see medical bracelets and plastic tubes running from her wrists. Her mouth went dry. She used her free hand to grope at the plastic restraints. She struggled to rotate the tag: “_____; Admitted: February 11th, 2049, 21:13.” She stared at the date. It had to be some kind of typo. She looked at the flowers again. They were dried and withered beyond recognition. What had happened? How could she have been here for so very long?!
_____ was still pondering over her accumulated dead flowers when the first knock she had heard since waking up, sounded on her door. She pulled her blankets a little closer, struggling with her tired body.
“_____? Are you decent?” A man’s voice asked before entering. She nodded and realized he couldn’t see her, then responded.
“Yes, it is. And yes… most of the time.” She found herself giving a small smile.
A man entered wearing black pinstripe slacks with a pressed white shirt. Around his neck he wore a chain necklace with an official looking badge. He appeared to be some form of law enforcement. He carried a large bag that seemed to be nearly bursting at the seams. In his free hand he held a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee. He set the bag down and walked closer to her bed.
His head was nearly shaved and his facial hair was sharp; he could have just walked from his bathroom. She could even smell his aftershave in the empty room. His blue eyes focused on her and she diverted her eyes, trying to read his name badge.
“_____, my name is Detective Javid Rain. I’m from the Future Events Unit of _____, Sector Seven. This is all going to be very… difficult for you, but I cannot wait any longer. You were admitted to this hospital after a terrible accident. Do you remember?”
She found herself wondering what, exactly, she could remember. She felt as though she had just woken up from a long nap.
“I’d be less confused if my identification bracelet was right. They’ve got my admitted date wrong.” She weakly held up her wrist to show him. The detective moved around the edge of the bed and turned her wrist to see the date. He studied the bracelet and released her wrist.
“I’m sorry to say, the date is not wrong. The incident took place on November 1st. It is now March 13th, 2049. You’ve been – well, to say unconscious wouldn’t be correct. We’ve been describing it as ‘resting peacefully’ until an appointed time. We knew you’d wake up we just didn’t know exactly when. It’s been about four and a half months since you were involved in the incident downtown.”
_____ listened as he spoke. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not disagree. He had no reason to lie to her.
“Where am I, Detective?” Javid pulled up a chair and sat next to her bedside.
“You’re at _____ Medical Center. You were admitted around a month ago and we were able to track your location here. Once we found you, we locked down the room. I’m sorry about your flowers, but we simply could not trust anyone else to compromise your safety aside from your doctor and our staff.”
_____ shook her head slowly.
“You’re right, I am having trouble grasping all this. Why are you here? What happened, exactly? You’re not medical staff…” Her voice trailed off as she looked him over again. He appeared to be only a few years older than she was. She guessed him to be early thirties.
“To be brief, you were targeted and attacked in the street in November. You were held in custody by an unknown party, and checked in to this hospital a month ago. Due to recent events, we were able to track a signal that was emitting from your location and traced you here, to this facility.” She nodded, listening very closely.
“It is very important that you answer these questions as honestly as you remember them. Lives may hang in the balance.” He reached in to the front pocket of his slacks and pulled out a portable datapad. He began taking notes.
“While you were unconscious, your aunt – distant, if my facts are correct – Anne Sidane, was murdered.”
_____’s eyebrows rose. Anne was her aunt on her mother’s side, it was true. She was hardly a close relative, but one of the last that ____ actually had. And now, she had no one else. The Detective continued.
         “Did you receive any correspondence from your aunt prior to your kidnapping?”
         “She was hardly my aunt – and wait, what? Kidnapping? I wasn’t kidnapped! I was attacked. I remember. I was unconscious in a damn hospital for months! The doctor’s said I was admitted just after the.. ‘incident.’”
         The Detective paused, still vigorously typing on his datapad.
         “The doctor’s told you what they were instructed to do if you woke up before we could arrive.” He stopped typing and looked up at her directly.
         “You were kidnapped and admitted to this medical facility only a month ago. We have reason to believe that the same people responsible for your aunt’s death may also have been involved with what happened to you.”
         The way he paused made her heart skip at beat.
         “They didn’t – I mean – I’m not pregnant or anything, right?” The Detective had just taken a sip of hot coffee and nearly choked.
         “No, no. The doctors – and our own specialists – checked every possibility. You were not harmed.. in that way.”
         “Specialists? What kind of specialists, Mr. Rain?” She was trying to sit up straight in her bed. He saw she was getting more and more upset. He remembered what he was told about her stitches and tried to keep her calm.
         “Alright, enough questions for one day. And please, my name is Javid. Just Javid. You’ve had one hell of a holiday break, _____. Rest up tonight and I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
         ____ nodded reluctantly. She was feeling very tired. The Detective seemed to look over the room one last time before standing up to leave. She reached over to grip a small plastic cup with water and she ended up knocking it over. The small cup tipped over after her clumsy fingers pushed too hard and the chilled fluid filled the cold metal tray it had been sitting on.
         A micro magazine-pad shorted out and sparked. A small wisp of smoke and the tangy scent of burning electronics filled the room.
         For some reason, that small loss of control seemed to hit home the most. She stared, unmoving, at the mess of water and electronics. One small accident was all it took to destroy her illusion of normalcy. She couldn’t even pick up a glass without help. She felt so disoriented. Hot tears welled in her eyes.
She had probably lost her apartment – her datapad – her pod vehicle parking permit had been overdue in November so she probably lost her parking spot, if not her entire vehicle. Did she even have a job still? Why had her only visitor been an enigmatic detective? Who had let her flowers die? Who fucking does that?!
         She sniffed and scrambled for a box of tissues. She scrubbed her eyes and nose and turned away from the cup. She took in a few deep breaths. A small knock came at the door. She opened her mouth to allow them to enter but found her voice was barely a weak croak.
         “I can’t leave you alone for a minute without you throwing a fit, now can I?” The detective had returned, holding a pitcher of water and a heavier, glass cup.
         “I figured that might happen. Don’t worry, I’ll bring the Nurse in to clean up the mess and get you a new magazine-pad.” She tried to turn her head so he wouldn’t see her frustrated tears.
         “Thank you,” her voice was still very quiet. The detective nodded, set down the pitcher and full glass just out of reach, and left again. The nurse returned, as promised, and _____ fell asleep just after drinking a full glass of water to quench her thirst. If she dreamed, she didn’t remember.
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         “You said you were able to trace a signal, and find me here?” _____ pushed aside her small meal tray as the Detective entered the room.
         “You’re not wasting any time this morning,” he said, as he returned with his bag and took his seat next to her bedside.
         “I had a lot of time to think last night. So?”
         “Right, well – our specialists in the Future Events Unit were investigating the murder of your aunt. It was completely unrelated to your kidnapping, but a series of events led us to locate you. I’ll fill you in on the exact details later. From what we can tell, you were kidnapped and… operated on, while you were in custody.”
         “Operated on..?” She was suddenly glad she had already finished her breakfast. She remembered hearing voices and a ghost tugging sensation appeared in her chest. She rested her hand over her heart. Javid seemed to notice.
         “Yes, if you haven’t seen yet, you will. You have massive scarring and stitches, under those bandages and scrubs. We were able to intercept a signal that was being transmitted and located you  here. However, we cannot identify – and we cannot stop – whatever signal is transmitting from you. It is also blocking your Futuregraph © Identity chip. Right now, you don’t exist in any system; yet you could wlak right through the front doors of any room you chose.” Again she found her eyebrows being raised.
         “You could have left the hospital before we found you, and no one would have noticed. We would have traced you, eventually, but no security system in the world could keep you out.”
         “You make me sound like a walking bomb. Whatever happened, the transmissions can’t – hurt anyone, right?” He didn’t answer immediately.
         “Not physically, no. It’s not as though you’re transmitting a high pitched sound and killing all the dogs in the city.” He frowned.
         “…but?”
         “Well, we believe it might be what’s causing the Horrors.”
         “The ‘Horrors’? What the hell is that? It sounds like it could be very painful.”
         “No, it’s not like that. The media has named the phenomenon ‘The Horrors,’ short for ‘The Horrors of the Futuregraph.’ Only a few cases have been reported. It may be easier just to show you.”
         “The Horrors of, what, Futuregraph ©? The same company that makes the Futuregraph, pod vehicles, the one started by Anne, right?”
         Javid nodded as he turned from her to dig in his bulky bag. She saw it was filled with clothes as well as electronics.
         “The very same.” He seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a small travel sized datapad. She watched as he placed his palm on the scratch resistant screen. The datapad spoke.
         “Welcome, Detective Rain.” The datapad had no distinguishable background image and only a single folder on the desktop.
         “Are you ready?” She shrugged and he moved closer to lay the datapad where they could both see it. He tapped the file folder and it had four folders inside. He tapped the one dated _____. A series of six images displayed. He opened the first.
         “This was a small Futuregraph © that belonged to a family from –“ he squinted to read the name of the file. “_______.”
         “_______? That’s about a days pod drive to the east, isn’t it?”
         “It is. Except, the family is here now.”
         She looked at him questioningly.
         “Just watch. This was the original image that their home Futuregraph © displayed. They kept it on the mantle of their living room and that is where F.E.U. found it.”
         The image loaded full screen and displayed a young couple with two small children. It looked like the first day of practice for youth soccer. The young mother and father wore opposing team jerseys to match the son and daughter. The mother held her little girl in front of her, all smiles. The two women had unruly blonde hair that blew in the summer wind, bright blue eyes and undefeatable smiles. The father, with shaggy brown hair and a smile on the verge of laughter, held the small boy on his shoulders.
Two soccer balls lay in the grass before them and a subdued team practice could be seen in the background. It was one of the newer models of the Futuregraph © that allowed the image to move as though it was a video recording. The woman’s hair moved in the wind and small children darted in the background. The image repeated in a loop of approximately five seconds.
         “They look happy.” They studied the picture for a moment longer. _____ could almost feel the warmth pouring in from the Futuregraph ©. It was a beautiful summer day. Perfect for practice.
         “This is a predictive image though, right? Was it ever Fulfilled?” The Detective looked up at her.
         “What do you mean, ‘fulfilled’?” He took a small notebook from his pocket as he asked. _____ heard his pen click.
         “It was a term Anne used for any time an image in a Futuregraph © was actually experienced. She called it a ‘Fulfillment.’ I think it even says it when you order one. My Aunt was always a little… New Age, tarot, horoscopes, those kinds of things. I think from a company standpoint they decided not to give the experiences a title so that if it didn’t happen, they didn’t get sued. She explained it once, a very long time ago.”
         The Detective nodded at her story and scribbled notes in his notepad. His handwriting was fast but legible. The way the letters angled were almost beautiful. He could have written anything and it would have looked amazing. It was a rare quality in a world of technology that did not include handwriting.
         “Well, as it turns out, no. The image was never fulfilled. Let me show you why. I’m going to warn you first: these series of images are the last graphic of all four cases.”
         “—graphic? Oh, good Lord.”
         Even through all the blood and twisted limbs, she knew it was the same young couple. The once blonde curls were soaked with blood and matted to her skull. The young man’s face was nearly unrecognizable except for the light curve of his mouth where he looked like he had been smiling. The bulge in the woman’s stomach made her go cold.
         “Twins?” She couldn’t say anything else. Javid nodded.
         “Yes.. They would most likely have been fraternal twins but, well.” He swallowed and closed the image. “The Futuregraph © was never fulfilled because the couple – died before the family was created. The woman, her name was Jennifer, an architect just finishing school. She was seven months pregnant. Nathan, he was a student teacher and helped coach the local school’s soccer team. They were engaged to be married this summer, as we understand.”
         _____ still stared at the blank screen. The image of the disfigured couple still burned in her mind. She doubted it would ever leave but she knew it was necessary. She was quietly thankful to the Detective for sparing her from seeing the rest.
         “What happened to them?” The damage had been extensive.
         “Let me give you a little more background. It will all fit together soon. The second image, showing Jennifer and Nathan, appeared on their Futuregraph © two weeks before they were brutally murdered.”
         “You mean, that isn’t a picture from the – the crime scene?”
         “No. This was an image that both woke up to one morning. This image had replaced their family picture. Disturbed, and rightfully so, they did the only thing they could. They called the police. They thought someone had hacked their Futuregraph © and were playing some kind of sick joke. It wasn’t a joke, and two weeks later, the couple was found exactly as their Futuregraph © showed.”
         _____ had to look away from the datapad. She pulled her stiff hospital blankets a little closer to try and save some of it’s warmth. She couldn’t imagine waking up to see something so familiar become so twisted. It truly was horrific. She didn’t feel like she’d ever be warm again.
         “Was their Futuregraph © hacked?” She asked, hopefully. Javid put his datapad back in his bag.
         “No, there were no signs of intrusion. All our technicians were able to determine is that the new image replaced the original. After the couple died, their Futuregraph © went blank. We were able to recover the history, thankfully, and that is what we found.”
         “What caused the images to change?” She watched as Javid gave a small smile.
         “The office said you’d ask the right questions. Our technicians also determined a signal had been sent that replaced the image. We contacted Futuregraph © but it was at the same time Anne Sidane was found dead. We didn’t discover it was a murder until after the autopsy report. We haven’t gotten an official response but we’re not expecting they’ll have one for us.”
         _____ sighed. She had missed her aunt’s funeral then, too. She imagined it would have been beautiful. Anne never was one to bore a crowd. No, she would have impressed the hell out of everyone, one last time. _____ had never been impressed by her Aunt’s ability to disappear from her family; she had not considered her family for quite some time.
         “When we were able to trace the interfering signal, we traced it to you. My unit put a lockdown on your room and besides your surgery doctor and minimal staff, no one had been allowed in.”
         That explains the dead flowers… She glanced across the room at the darkened outlines of various vases and flowers. She knew one was from _____ and, without being able to move and walk to see, she assumed the others may have been from her office building. She tried to focus on the task at hand without thinking too much about the images of Jennifer and Nathan.
         “So, you’re telling me all this and you think I can help somehow? Am I a suspect? I work at a Call Center, I just have a High School degree – I’m not capable of – of, murder.”
         Javid shook his head.
         “You are not a suspect. I do not believe you are capable of these terrible acts. You may have been unconscious but whomever put you that way had sure we knew your whereabouts were accounted for.”
         _____ gave him another questioning look. He shrugged.
         “You were gone for roughly four months. We found a datapad with four months worth of time stamped security footage that showed your entire... vacation. Including your surgery. Well, surgeries. We analyzed the data – there was no way to falsify the video. We know it wasn’t you. Your aunt’s murder was not the same… caliber, as Jennifer and Nathan’s.”
         _____ could hardly breathe. Whomever did this wanted to keep her safe or at least not a suspect.
         “Strange thing is, we’re pretty sure that the rest of your new ‘friends’ didn’t know they were on a nanny-cam. Someone wanted you safe, someone on the inside.”
         _____ suddenly felt very tired.
         “Listen, I know it’s a lot to absorb. The doctor said you can be released in to our custody as early as tomorrow. Keep up the good work and maybe I’ll sneak you in a coffee tomorrow. We really need your help to stop these murders, _____. Get some rest. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” He reached in to his pants pocket and handed her his small notebook and pen.
         “It’s not safe right now to communicate over datapads. If you remember anything, no matter how trivial, you write it down. I’ll be here to check you out of the hospital in the morning. We can go over any of your notes then.”
         Detective Rain took his opportunity to leave. He clicked the light off as he left, leaving _____ in a world of darkness and vague shadows. The small window let in just enough moonlight that she could see a faint outline of the room. She heard the double locks on the door seal. For my protection, she thought, trying not to be bitter.
She rolled to one side and pulled the blankets up closer. She stared out the window until her eyes were too heavy to keep open. The last thing she recalled before a night of dreamless sleep was Jennifer’s face. The happy, living one. It was a small miracle that she didn’t have terrible nightmares.
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         Javid made absolutely sure that _____’s room was locked. He carried his bulky bag down the hallway of the hospital. The nurse at the front counter looked up from her paperwork and smiled.
         “Calling it a night, Detective?” Javid smiled and lied.
         “Almost.” He nodded to her and turned in to the men’s restroom. He walked to the larger enclosed handicapped stall. He listened to make sure he was alone and set his bag down inside. He had been wearing a pair of slacks with an ironed shirt all day. He unbuttoned his shirt, folded it, and put it in his bag. He pulled off his black tanktop and replaced it with a clean gray one.
         He unbelted his shoulder holster that had been concealed beneath his shirt. The leather straps were covered in sweat and clung to his skin. Out of habit, he checked to make sure the safety was on and the gun was fully charged. The F.E.U. was a non-lethal unit; the gun was only designed to disable a target long enough for him to subdue and question them. Still, if the gun fired in his holster, it would be an extremely painful experience.
         His slacks rolled neatly and stored away. He changed in to a pair of loose fitting jeans.
         He heard the bathroom door open and he quietly set the holster on top of his bag. He took the short break to dig in his bag for his razor and aftershave and to pass more time, reconnected his holster and slipped in to a baggy t-shirt. The stall visitor left and Javid packed up the rest of his things.
         He shaved quickly and was patting on his aftershave when the next man entered. A nurse who recognized the Detective and made his obligatory nod before going about his business. Javid made sure his face was clean before he rinsed his razor and packed up the rest of his bag. Before he exited, he made sure to pull out his Detective’s badge and made sure it was visable over his shirt.
         The nurse did not look up from her chart this time. The Detective walked around to the waiting room in search of an empty chair. He found his usual spot and drug the chair down the hallway. The nurse looked up at the sound and opened her mouth to object, but when she saw it was the Detective, she closed it. He dragged the chair around the corner to stop just outside the locked room.
         He slipped his shoes off and stretched his toes with a yawn. He lay down in the chair and tried to relax. The nurse appeared around the corner with a pillow and self-warming blanket. She handed it to him without a word and returned to her desk.
         Javid leaned back in the chair, checked his holster again through his shirt, and tried not to fall asleep. He’d be awake again soon to change and check out the strange woman from the hospital.
         What is her connection? His thoughts were troubled as he drifted off to sleep. Javid’s night, unlike _____’s, were full of fitful dreams of past cases. The same as always. The lack of sleep was nothing new to the young Detective. He preferred it; less opportunity for sleep meant less opportunity for the nightmares to return.
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         “Ready to go home?” It took her a moment to recognize the Detective’s voice. He had opened the windows and turned up the simulated sunlight. The clock said it was 5:00AM but outside it was a bright, warm sun. Javid held a steaming coffee cup in one hand.
         “Sorry, I only brought one. The nurse doesn’t want you drinking coffee yet, so I brought you a bottled water instead.” He reached in to his bag and set it down on the tray beside her bed.
         She couldn’t believe it was March. She had missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s Day and her birthday. She moved in her hospital bed and started to feel tired again. She tried to shift under the blankets and was thankful for the extra heat.
         “Ready as I’ll ever be. She was still trying to think of what she had missed. As her bare feet touched the cold hospital floor she immediately recoiled. A soft knock at the door and _____’s nurse entered with a bundle of clothes. Javid took his opportunity to step out of the room.
         “Your doctor would prefer rehabilitation for you, but we’ve been asked to release you in to the medical custody of the F.E.U. I will have the doctor contact you and make sure they’re taking good care of you.” She set the clothes on the edge of the bed. They looked like yet another pair of loose scrubs in the same drab blue of the hospital.
         I’ve left a list of prescriptions and a treatment plan with Detective Rain. If you have any questions, please be sure to call. The important thing to remember is to note overdo it. As far as we can tell, you were admitted to the hospital fresh out of surgery. Your stitches are still fresh.”
         The nurse approached her and looked her up and down. She reached in to the pocket of her hospital scrubs and removed a portable datapad. She scanned _____’s body which reminded her of being scanned for radiation in a science fiction movie. The datapad lit green.
         “Your vitals are good. Heart rate is still a little high.” The nurse smiled.
         “Mine probably would be, too. Your Detective is awfully nice on the eyes.” _____ laughed despite herself and felt a sudden sharp pain burn through her chest. The nurse noticed and indicated for her to lift her shirt. The nurse ran a gloved hand over her stomach and chest to rest over her heart.
         “Your stitches are fresh – and painful. I’ll add another prescription to the list.” She ran a finger down the stitches slowly and traced them from her shoulder blade to her heart.
         “Although they are expertly done. Whoever did this was no organ thief that cut you open and left you to die. They were experts.” _____ couldn’t tell if her nurse was joking or not.
#
         Javid sat on the couch, eyes on the door. The F.E.U. wasn’t expecting another attack but he was always cautious. You didn’t survive long in the unit if you were careless.
         His hand drifted to his chest where he wrapped his fingers through a metal chain around his neck. Without thinking, he pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt. A white-gold engagement ring glittered back at him. He checked that it was safe and then tucked it safely beneath his shirt. He stood from the couch and lifted his shirt to unholster his gun. No sense in it being concealed any longer.
         “Sorry, this place is a wreck—“ _____ came from her kitchen holding two mismatched coffee cups. She looked at the gun Javid had placed on her coffee table and decided to ignore it.
         “I’m pretty certain my tea has gone bad, so I made coffee instead. I’m out of cream and sugar, so, well, here.” She held out his cup. It was steaming in her chilled apartment. The Detective accepted it with a small nod and returned to his seat. He indicated for _____ to sit next to him.
         “We won’t be here long. To be honest, it isn’t safe. We don’t want to risk you being kidnapped again.” He took a sip of coffee and set it down immediately.
         “Just gather a few things, look for anything that is unusual or could have been from your aunt, then we need to go.” _____ set her coffee down as well.
         “Does three months of filth count? Couldn’t my landlord have come in, or my boyf—“ she stopped and coughed midsentence. “It looks the same as I left it, just less clutter and more dust.”
         “How so?” Javid was looking around trying to gather evidence of his own.
         “Let me take a look around to be certain, but I’m pretty sure the only person who was here after me was not my aunt. I’ve got an emergency bag in my bedroom. Give me ten minutes and we’ll talk.”
         “I’ll be here watching the door.” He rose and lifted his gun. She turned before the sight gave her chills. She stepped over a pile of her own clothes, hastily discarded by a careless boyfriend. She tried not to be embarrassed – it wasn’t her mess, after all.
         She noticed sadly that her purple lamp had burned out in her absence. A thin layer of dust coated her living room – from her extensive collection of early 2000 video games and “Blu Ray” technology to the one photograph she still had of her parents. Her spare Call Center headset still lay forgotten next to her small pile of now outdated bills. Everything looked hazy. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.
         Her hall light turned on and illuminated the other rooms; the small bathroom/laundry room and her room at the end of the hallway. She didn’t see anything unusual as she pressed her hand against the cool wooden door. It slid sideways and disappeared in to the wall itself. Her bed was unmade, clothes and random gaming gear were scattered around her floor. She noticed with a twitch of guilt that she had multiple discarded Chinese ‘to-go’ boxes hidden amongst the mess. Her television, personal datapad, all of her electronics – all appeared unharmed.
If they broke in, they didn’t take anything of value… She moved to her closet and pulled down her duffel bag. She double checked her flashlight batteries and tossed in an extra pack she had stashed away from her nightstand. She found another small picture of her parents and set it gently in to the bag as well as a small gold-chained necklace. She walked to her dresser and picked up a small stuffed polar bear. It had been white, years ago, but various travels outside of the hive-city had turned Mr. Frostiness a slight shade of gray. He had gone everywhere with her; he might as well come along too.
         She opened the dresser drawer and tossed clean spare clothes in her bag. She took her spare moments and peeled out of her hospital clothes. The clothes may have been clean but removing them made her feel immediately better. They felt too confining. She paused for a moment to look at her reflection in her large stand-up mirror.
         The few months in the hospital had taken some of her extra weight off. She noticed her stomach wasn’t as prominent as she had been made to feel before. She stared at the bandages that the nurse had applied before she left the hospital. They snaked from beneath her left breast to over her shoulder and collar bone. She knew beneath the clean white bandages hid bruised purple flesh and precision stitches and staples.
Her nurse had been very specific – do not rip out the stitches. She did not say specifically what the consequences would be but implied that her impending death may be long and painful. _____ knew the only reason the hospital had released her had been because of the Detective and the F.E.U. She could see how the stitches ran right over her heart and so she did not argue.
She shrugged in to her favorite red tank top and comfortable fitting jeans. She was careful not to move her bandages too much. She sat on the end of her bed and put on her running shoes. She stood up and stretched slowly, already feeling her mood improve. She knew with her current stitches, she wouldn’t be doing any running, but she had no idea what to expect, so she had chosen to wear comfortable shoes.
         She did notice one thing that wasn’t surprising at all. All of ____’s belongings were gone. Based on the dust that had taken their place, he had wasted no time in making his exit from her life. His disappearance from her life had saved her the trouble. She had known he had slithered away when she noticed the flowers from him in her hospital room.
         Even dead, they held no former passion. The words he had written had been subversive and vague, as usual. She hated his handwriting. He had complained, early in their relationship, about having some kind of ‘disability’ with the way he wrote. He capitalized everything and was very self conscious. It had been one of many crutches he had used to gain her sympathy. Now, his handwriting just made her sick.
         _____ realized she was getting distracted and picked up her bag to head to the bathroom. As she was walking past her dresser she took one last look over her room to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. That’s when she noticed it. On her unmade bed, tucked under a corner of a blanket, was a red envelope. She sighed and picked it up.
         On the outside of the envelope was written, “I’m Sorry.” She started to toss it aside when she stopped. The handwriting did not make her stomach turn; it did not belong to ______. She decided against throwing the envelope away and buried it in her duffel bag. It was thicker than anything ______ would ever have written. After she was satisfied she had recovered all her personal effects, she stepped in to the bathroom for a few final items.
         “_____, how you doing?” The Detective’s voice echoed down the hallway.
         “Almost done, one or two more things…” She hauled her bag in to the bathroom as she replied.
         “Make it now. We’ve got company.” She heard something in his voice she hadn’t heard before. He was suddenly very commanding. She decided to skip the bathroom and went straight for the living room.
         Javid stood with his back against the far wall. His gun was still drawn and he put a finger to his lips to show her to be quiet. She nodded her understanding and tried to listen.