Page 29 of Perfect Order
“I forgive you for the tattoo, by the way. But I’m going to cry when I go and get mine—I hope you understand that. Even if it winds up being the most physically painful thing to happen to me, it won’t be as awful as losing you has been. Nothing will ever rip my heart apart like that.” I take a moment to swipe my fingers beneath my eyes to capture the tears that are trailing down my face.
Then guilt settles heavily around my heart. “I was supposed to be there. What if I had been? Would you have been killed? Or would you have been in our room telling me what was troubling you? I know you, my Lee. Something was wrong. What was it?” I slam the heel of my hand down on the steering wheel in frustration.
And I’ll never know if it’s pure chance or my sister watching over me that has me glancing in the rearview mirror. An SUV with no front plates is barreling toward me at a high rate of speed. Quickly, I press down on the accelerator, even as I’m reaching over to the glove compartment, where I stashed my government-issued handgun—another long-ago decree.“Never leave home without it,Q?za.If you ever get into a situation, I’d rather clean up your mess and have you alive.”
Heart pounding, I’m suddenly grateful for the years of dictator-like mandates all the people who work for him have to subscribe to. Even as I wedge the gun between my legs and chamber the round with one hand, I can hear him bellowing in my mind over the noise-canceling headphones as we practiced, firing round after round, assuming we’d never have to use it in the line of duty—not doing what we did—then. “Carry the damn thing. You all are targets working here. It’s a world where they will shoot first, people. If this gives you that split second to get out alive, I’m giving it to you.”
My eyes avidly scan the landscape for the closest runaway truck lane—lanes trucks have the ability to veer off in the event they skid out of control during the winter months. I feel a jarring bounce as the SUV makes contact with my rear bumper. My heart skips a beat, pushing itself into my throat, as I stomp the accelerator all the way to the floor. I’m driving at a speed that is ridiculously dangerous on the twisty road, but I’m doing everything possible to avoid being hit. The heads-up display shows me I’m speeding up: forty-five, fifty. I glance in the mirror, and the SUV seems to gather speed as it makes another approach.
There!I quickly reach over and yank the center emergency brake, grateful for the defensive driving courses, he also mandated when I was in training, “Regardless if you’re going to be sitting behind some machine or not, you get trained or you get out,” he snarled.
“Who the fuck are you?” I shout. The instructor’s words come back to me just as the SUV engine guns.Avoid sudden braking. Turn into the skid.Don’t accelerate out of it.I'm grateful to hear my instructor’s receptive directions on repeat in my head as I attempt to execute the turn easily ten miles per hour faster than any speed I trained at.
Fortunately, my mathematician’s brain factored in the extra space runaway lane, so I don’t crash into the side of the mountain. With a heart that hasn’t yet started beating, I manage to straighten my damaged vehicle out as I bump and bounce on the gravel road. Removing the emergency brake, I press down on the real ones so I can be prepared to move in a second’s time as I hear a wrenching metal sound that sends shivers clear through my soul.
My head pops out the window, just in time to see the black SUV attempt the first part of the turn. As the weight of the assault vehicle presses against the dulled metal, their rear end puts enough pressure on it to break through the knee-high guardrail.
I shiver as I put my father’s car in park. Stepping out, still holding my weapon, I get a good look as the weight of the vehicle pitches and yaws.It was supposed to be me.The certainty of it slithers through me. I take a step forward, unconsciously wanting to pull the trigger to put an end to this nightmare for me, my family.For Lee.But before I can take a second to consciously make the decision to discharge my weapon in a fit of rage, a car coming down the mountain has to slam on its brakes, sending the acrid smell of dust in the air. I tuck my arm holding the weapon behind my thigh.
Whether it was the sudden movement of the other car vibrating the road, or fury from a force beyond claiming redemption, the black SUV tips over the edge. I wince at the sound it makes as it pitches over the cliff because that was so close to being me. I lean back into the car and dig around until I find the cell on the floor. He answers on the first ring. “Q?za,what is it?”
“A black SUV with no plates just tried to take me out,” I inform him flatly.
The only sound that breaks up the silence is the wind whipping through the line. “They’re dead?”
“I haven’t gone to check. The vehicle went over a cliff.” I look at my watch and give him the coordinates.
“I’ll deal with it.Q?za…”
“Don’t say it.” I hang up on him and stare at the broken rail.
Without a doubt, I’m in as much danger as Kylie was. Are they trying this quickly because they were out to kill her and believe they failed? Or they wanted to kill me and made a mistake? I’m not sure how long I have to figure it out, but I’ll spend the rest of my life doing so.
However long that may be.
Saratoga Springs, N.Y.Federal agencies struggle with implementing government mandates to store data in the cloud-first mandate. A new report released by Castor Industries shows staffing challenges and lengthy procurement makes it difficult to advance technologies at required speeds.
—Castor Newsroom
I located it early this morning when I couldn’t sleep. I stood at Kylie’s balcony door, imagining her sitting on her Adirondack chair with a cup of tea, when I spotted the padlock on the trunk.
Recognizing the lock as one we each had in high school, I dragged the massive weight inside, chills from the cold seeping past my already cold body.Maybe there are answers in here, I prayed fervently.
Instead, after I spun the ancient dial to 12-5-5, and it popped open as easily as it did off our lockers.God, Kylie, did nothing I teach you about security penetrate. I shake my head. Although not as bad as setting your luggage to 1-2-3-4-5, keeping our name as your padlock is a pretty simple password to crack.
Then I got lost in the treasure trove of the trunk’s contents and forgot all about my training. At least for a little while.
Inside were boxes of photographs, yearbooks, mementoes of things Kylie and I had accomplished together—all carefully wrapped from the elements. Slowly, I unpacked each one, spending time reliving our childhood with one another, feeling her love comfort me in a way no one else’s platitudes have been able to.
Then I found the pocket with her leather-wrapped journal. And the trip down memory lane ceased as I sat back to read about Kylie’s life since she came to New York.
As the late-afternoon sun streams through the balcony doors, I flip back and forth between the entries. And I’m torn between an almost palpable anger and paralyzing pain as I read my twin’s inner thoughts about what her early days in New York were like. I also suffer as she downplays her accomplishments to the point of self-abasement.
Clenching my jaw, I reread some of the passages I’ve marked.
There’s no air here. I’m suffocating. If I have to ward off one more grabby-ass motherfucker who thinks he can “make me a star” by getting into my pants, I swear I’m giving it up.
Then another entry that’s just a list of names before,So many assholes at one party, not enough armor on this world.I recognize a few of them and make a mental note to check them out.
