Isla

 

“I can’t believe this is happening," I said for what must have been the fourth time. Or maybe the fourteenth. But who cared? Today was the day I’d been anticipating for months.

“Believe it, sweet thing,” said Hale Hunter, the rangy, blond man striding alongside me.

He’d popped up out of nowhere in the parking lot and insisted on walking with me to the TLO office. As Hale was an associate of my benefactor, Dr. Crane, I had to be nice to him – even if interacting with him made my skin crawl.

I mean, why did he always smell like sweat and cigarettes? He had to be the one guy in all of LA who actually didn’t care what he looked or smelled like – instead of only pretending to. Hale always wore cargo shorts, a sloppy button up, a handkerchief knotted around his neck and work boots. His voice was creepy, guttural and harsh. And he spits, a lot.

Plastering a smile on my face, I nodded at him as we entered the building. I wasn’t going to let Hale ruin my mood. Not only was it a lovely morning for LA – the smog was less dense than usual and the traffic somewhat lighter – but in a few hours, I’d be out of here.

On a plane to Japan. On my way to having my dreams come true after years of heartbreak and disappointment. On my way to becoming a world-renowned artist.

Walking in, I beamed around and then blinked, surprised at how empty it was. There weren’t even any interns here drifting around the foyer drinking coffee and swapping gossip.

TLO, or the Talent Leadership Organization, was usually crammed with people coming and going, but before I could comment on it, Hale had swept me along and down the hall to Dr. Crane.

Dr. Crane was the leader of TLO, a man with several medical degrees, who worked part-time as both a psychiatrist and neurosurgeon. However, even with his busy schedule, he always found time to volunteer with the TLO. And take me out to lunch and listen to my problems.

I owed a lot to the doctor. He and his wife had become good friends. Both of them cared deeply about the arts, spending their free time investing in the arts and giving back to the community. One such initiative was the TLO, helping young aspiring artists get their name out there. I don’t know where I’d be without the program.

I’d been ready to quit my dreams when Dr. Crane walked into the diner where I was waiting tables. Two hours and three cups of coffee later, he was inviting me to interview with the TLO as a resident artist. And now I had a job creating art and was being sent to Japan as the first stop on a worldwide gallery exhibit tour of the TLO’s pieces.

It was hard to keep from hugging Dr. Crane as we walked into his office. “Ah, Isla DeLuca. Early as always.” Smiling, he stood up and offered his hands, squeezing mine.

Dr. Crane was a tall, balding man with a placid smile and light blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He walked with a slight stoop and had big hands he liked to clasp together under his chin. Everything about him was mild and kind. The discomfort I’d felt around Hale was now gone as I held Dr. Crane’s hands.

“Hello, Hale,” Dr. Crane said, nodding over at him.

“Doc,” Hale said and I glanced over my shoulder. He’d taken up his usual spot by the door. I knew Hale had served in the army and he liked to stay near doorways, but it always made my skin crawl a little. Sometimes it seemed like he was trying to ensure no one escaped.

“Are you ready?” Dr. Crane asked smiling and I looked back at him.

“I think so,” I said. Dr. Crane led me to a chair in front of his desk and sat me down. “I’m all packed. My stuff is all my car, I hope that’s okay. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it–”

Dr. Crane waved me off and I stopped. “Just fine. We do have a few last minute things to go over.” Reaching over to his desk, Dr. Crane flipped through a stack of papers and then glanced at me. “It seems your immunizations aren’t up to date for international travel, Isla.”

“What?” I asked in surprise. “But I went to the doctor last week and–”

“Japan has far more stringent regulations nowadays. Island country and all that. It’s no worry, Isla. I have a doctor on standby here who can take care of you.” Dr. Crane proffered the papers and a pen at me. “I just need a signature saying you give permission.”

Taking the papers and pen, I looked them over. My excitement was fading into confusion and the words blurred in my brain. Something didn’t feel right.

Should I be signing medical forms without reading them? I wondered. But surely I can trust Dr. Crane… Yet, somehow, I found myself unable to put pen to paper and looked up.

The look in Dr. Crane’s eyes surprised me and I blinked. He looked hungry. Then he smiled benevolently and I shook my head. I must have been imagining things.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Dr. Crane asked in a kind voice.

“It’s just, I’d like to check with my own doctor. Could I call …?” I trailed off as Dr. Crane’s face fell and he looked uncomfortable. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I just…”

“Isla, Isla. You know how important you are to us. I’d never have you sign something you shouldn’t. These are standard forms. And, you know I did warn you several weeks ago,” he said delicately and my face burned.

Dr. Crane had indeed warned me several weeks ago, I thought miserably. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I go sooner? Why didn’t I make sure I told my doctor what my travel plans were?

Although come to think of it, Dr. Moore had seemed a little baffled when I’d mentioned Japan, hadn’t he? Saying he wasn’t quite sure what I was asking for…

“Isla,” Dr. Crane said and I snapped back to the present. “You know I am a doctor, dear. They’re just immunizations. It’s nothing to worry about. These papers are merely to ensure the doctor’s protection – not mine, dear, but Dr. Frost, who’s a primary care physician.”

Swallowing something, I nodded and lowered the pen. In spite of the little voice urgently warning against it, I went ahead and scrawled my name.

A satisfied smile flitted across Dr. Crane’s face as he took them back. “Thank you. Hale?”

“Everything is all set," Hale said. “Alright. Come with us, Isla.”

Getting up, I followed Hale and Dr. Crane out. He’d stuffed the papers in his pocket and was humming under his breath. My heart was beating hard in my throat and my thoughts were jumpy.

Walking along, I noted many of the offices were dark and empty. The entire building seemed too quiet. Too empty for a normal workday. A prickle of unease danced along my spine, one I immediately tamped down. What is wrong with me?

At that moment, Hale’s phone rang and he answered it, then he snarled, “What?” I jumped as he glared down at the phone and then jammed it against his ear, walking faster. “Are you absolutely sure?” A pause. “That little fu–” Suddenly he stopped and I almost ran into him.

“What’s wrong, Hale?” Dr. Crane asked impatiently.

“Eques Pantherae,” Hale replied dryly, hanging up.

Nostrils flaring, Dr. Crane nodded curtly. “I see.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked in a timid voice.

Dr. Crane turned to me with a smile and my nerves faded. “Oh, Ms. DeLuca. The room you need is at the end of this hall, on the left. It’s marked One-oh… Nine. Yes. We’ll be right back.”

“Oh, alright,” I said, bewildered.

“There’s been a little hiccup is all,” Hale said smoothly. “Nothing you need worry about.”

With that he clomped down the hall, followed by Dr. Crane and I was left alone. In that instant, I was seized with the desire to run, to go back to my car and hit the gas, rushing off and never coming back. But I turned and kept walking.

It had to be nerves, right? That was what was wrong with me. I was going to Japan, starting a new chapter. Of course, I'd be nervous. In general, I was kind of a nervous person, though I was a master-hand at downplaying it as urban and artsy coolness.

At room 109, I knocked and went in with utter confidence.

Then my entire body went cold as I stared around.

It was a room outfitted like one at the hospital, complete with a gurney, what looked like an MRI machine and several sharp tools lined up on the tables. In the corner, under a bright light was a chair, complete with arm straps and a large table with a series of needles.

Backing up, I stared around in horror and bile rose in my throat.

What the hell is going on? What did I just sign myself up for?

The voice in the back of my head was screaming now, waking me up and I turned to run. No one had heard me come in and there was an exit at the end of the hall.

Poking my head back out, I saw the hall was quiet and empty still. I edged down it, my pulse racing and whooshing in my ears. I was almost there. I could make it and go to the police.

Then I heard it. Heavy boots moving down the hall in a quick and assertive fashion.

Panicked, I darted towards the exit, my lungs bursting.

Grasping the handle, I pulled, but it was locked. Again, I tried it, but no luck.

The footsteps broke into a run and I went to flee when I spun around. It was Hale.

He pushed a forearm under my throat and grinned down at me. There was a look in his eyes of a predator enjoying watching his prey squirm. Choking, I tried to hit him, but he threw back his head and laughed.

“Don’t worry Isla,” he cooed, reaching into his jacket. “You’re very important to the TLO.”

Something metal glinted out of the corner of my eye and sharp pain flared in my arm. Numbness spread through my body as Hale let me go and I tried to swing at him.

My arm wouldn’t obey me, though. Neither would my legs. Everything was becoming heavy and dragging me towards the floor. No, Hale was dragging me back to that room. 109.

I tried to fight back. But my vision blurred, fading into gray and then the world was gone.

 

“You little bitch, you thought you could get away,” snarled a voice in my ear as I was thrown against the floor. “Nice try. I could smell your fear a mile away. Now to call the good doctor –”

Crashes, bangs and then a grunt.

On the floor, I struggled to wake up, to move. To scream. But it was as though I was paralyzed.

What had they done to me?

Suddenly the light shifted. Someone was cradling me with deft hands and strong arms. A man with a broad chest, a pounding heartbeat and his voice hitching in his throat.

“Isla! Isla? Can you hear me? Isla?” There was something warm and kind about his voice.

“Is she…?” Came a soft, familiar feminine voice. “Are we too late?

A light touch at my neck and the man said, his voice now filled with relief. “She’s alive. Q-Cocktail. We have to get her out of here before… I’ve got her…”

 

Pain flared in my hand and a scream woke me.

I was screaming.

“No! No! Let me go, let me go! Help! Help!” I cried and flailed out.

“Isla, you’re okay, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Please listen to me,” said the kind male voice. The one who’d been worried. I tried to get a look at him, but the room swung up and down. “You’ve been drugged by Hale. Its gotta work itself out of your system…

Tears were leaking down my face. “It hurts.”

“I know. We had to remove it though. I’m sorry about your hand…”

“What’s happening? Why is this happening?” I gasped, struggling to stay awake.

“I wish I knew,” he said miserably. “Then maybe I could have stopped it.”

Darkness again.

 

I was warm and comfortable, snuggled in a nest of pillows. A woman’s hand brushed back my hair from my face. She had long nails and a haunting perfume. Exotic and couture. Like her.

“Watch after her, okay?” The woman’s voice was pained. “She’s a tough cookie, but this would be a lot for anyone.”

“I know, sis,” came a tired voice. “She’ll be safe with me.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to keep her spirits up.”

“It’s what I do best, isn’t it?” He tried to joke, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“Are you–?" She started to ask, her voice straining in her throat.

“Never wanting to talk about TLO ever again? Yes.”

Who are they? I wanted to ask. What did they do to me? What do they want?

But then I was gone again.