I do so. They click. "Happy?" I ask. "Can we go?"
Slim removes a black eye mask from his pocket, similar to the kind people wear to bed. He steps toward me. "I want you to put this on," he says.
I hold out my cuffed hands. "You'll have to put it on me."
He takes another step toward me. "Your hands are free enough to put it on."
I catch his eye again; it may be my last chance. "You do not have to be so afraid of me, Slim. Your fear is ridiculous."
He hurries toward me and covers my eyes. I hear his voice.
"You're right, Alisa," he says.
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the limousine.
We drive south on the Coast Highway. All is dark, but I still have my sense of direction. All my senses with the exception of my eyes are very alert. Slim sits on my right, the woman on my left. Four burly men sit across from us; two up front. I count the breaths. The second limousine follows a hundred yards behind. They picked up their three marksmen before we hit the road.
There are no incidental smells in the limousine. The car is new. There is no food in the limousine, but there is drink in the bar: sodas, juice, water. There is a faint smell of gunpowder in the air. One or more of the guns in the vehicle has recently been fired. Everybody has his gun out, in his hands or resting in his lap. Only the woman keeps hers aimed at me. She is the most afraid of me.
Several miles go by. The breathing of the people around me begins to slow, to lengthen and deepen. They are relaxing, except for the woman. They think the difficult part is over. Careful, I test the strength of the cuffs. The metal is incredibly hard. I will not be able to break it. But that doesn't mean I can't get around. I can hop, even bound, far more quickly than any mortal can run. I might be able to grab one of the automatic weapons from the lap of one of the men across from me and shoot and kill most of the people in the limousine before they can shoot me back. Then again, the woman might put a bullet in my brain first. Also, I know the car behind us is operating under strict instructions. The pattern in the abduction is clear. If they see me attacking, they will open fire without hesitation. Everyone in the first limousine will die, and I will be one of them. This is why there are two cars, not one.
I must try another way.
I let another thirty minutes go by. Then I speak.
"Slim. I have to go to the bathroom."
"I'm sorry, that's not possible," he says.
"I have to go bad. I drank an entire bottle of Coke before meeting you."
"I don't care. We are not stopping."
"I'll pee all over the seat. You'll have to sit in it."
"Pee if you must."
"I will do it."
He doesn't respond. More miles go by. Since Slim carried the cuffs, I decide he must be the one who has the key to open them. The arm of the woman beside me begins to tire. She lowers her weapon hand: I hear the rustling of her clothing. I estimate our speed to be sixty miles an hour. We are maybe fifty miles south of Water Cove. Seaside is approaching; I can hear the town up ahead; the two all night gas stations; the twenty-four-hour doughnut shop.
"Slim," I say.
"What?"
"I have a problem besides having to pee."
"What is it?"
"I'm having my period. I have to get to a rest room. I need only two minutes. You and your lady friend can come with me into the rest room. You can point your
guns at me the whole time if you want, I don't care. If you do not stop, we will have a mess here and we will have it soon."
"We are not stopping."
I raise my voice. "This is ridiculous! I am bound hand and foot. You are armed left and right. I just have to go to the bathroom for two minutes. For God's sake, what kind of sick person are you? Do you like piss and blood?"
Slim considers. I hear him lean forward and glance at the woman. "What do you think?" he asks.
"We are not supposed to stop for any reason," she says.
"Yeah, but what the hell." He adds a line, and as he does so, I hear my implanted suggestion. "What harm can she do?"
"She must be guarded at all times," the woman insists.
"I already said you two can follow me into the rest room," I say.
"So we have your permission?" the woman asks sarcastically. The sound of her voice is aggravating. She is from Germanythe east side. I hope she follows me into the bathroom. I have a surprise for her. "I have no sanitary napkins," she says.
"I will use whatever is available," I say softly.
"It is up to you," the woman says to Slim.
He considers, studying me, I know. Then he decides. "Hell, call the others. Tell them we're stopping at the first gas station. We'll pull around back."
"They won't like that," the man up front says.
"Tell them they can talk to me if they are worried," Slim says. He turns toward me. "Happy?"
"Thank you," I say in my velvety voice. "I won't cause any problems. You really can accompany me if you want."
"You can be sure I will, sister," Slim saysas if it were his own idea. I want those keys.
The call is made. We slow as we enter Seaside. The driver spots a gas station. I hear the all-night attendant making change. We drive around the side, the second limousine close behind us. The car stops. Slim opens his door.
"Stay here," he says.
We wait for Slim to return. The woman has her gun pointed at my head again. She just doesn't like my looks, I suppose. But the men are relaxed. They are thinking, all this security for what? Slim comes back. I hear him unholster his weapon.
"There will be two of us on you," he says. "Don't get smart."
"You have to take this thing off my eyes," I say. "I'll make a mess if I can't see."
Of course I can reach up and remove it myself, when I make my move. But to have it removed now will save me the extra step. Also, I want my vision to plan when to attack. Finally, by asking them to take it off, I emphasize my helplessness.
"Any other requests?" Slim asks.
"No."
He reaches over and pulls off the mask. "Happy?"
I smile at him, grateful. "I will be when I get in the bathroom."
He stares at me, doubt and confusion touching his face. "Who the hell are you?"