A Navy SEAL, crippled by wounds, is given a chance to be whole again … but at what price? |
CHAPTER 7 “They’ll never let me leave here will they?” Susan looked up from her desk to see Brandi standing in the doorway of her office. She was dressed in an oversized navy blue sweat shirt, black BDU pants and combat boots, and even in the baggy clothing she exuded a sensual presence. In the three weeks since Admiral Hammerstein and Reginald Mercer had met with Brandi, she had been a model of cooperation. She had done everything that was asked of her with little or no complaint. That is not to say she still did not persist in asking to be allowed more freedom, to be released from her confinement and allowed to interact with the world outside. But each time she was stonewalled and told to be patient. “No I don’t think they will, certainly not with any kind of freedom you would find acceptable,” Susan said after a moment. She had promised she would never lie to Brandi, not even to make her feel better. “I’ll never stop trying …” “I know,” Brandi whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry Susan.” Before Susan could respond Brandi was across the office, her hands gently gripping Susan’s face as she pressed her index fingers to her temples. Susan felt a sharp tingling through her body, and found she was completely incapable of moving or speaking. All she could do was stare at Brandi in wide eyed shock. “You’ll wake up with a bit of a headache I imagine but otherwise you’ll be fine,” Brandi said softly. The last thing Susan saw as her vision faded to black were the tears streaming down Brandi’s face. Brandi released Susan’s face and checked her pulse, which was strong and regular. She had no idea how she was able to render Susan unconscious, it was just something she knew she could do. It was one of many new abilities she had discovered, and kept to herself. Satisfied that Susan would suffer no ill effects from the ordeal, Brandi moved to the next step of her escape plan. She moved quickly to the door way and recovered the duffel bag she had left in the hall, then closed and locked the office door as she stepped back inside. Moving back behind the desk, she took Susan’s limp hand in her own, then closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. When she opened her eyes, she was Susan’s twin in every way except her clothing. That was easily remedied, as Susan always kept several changes of clothes in the office closet. Once she was dressed in one of Susan’s spare outfits she moved back to the desk. Gently, tenderly she lifted Susan from the chair and carried her to the couch against one wall of the office. She laid her on the couch, placing a pillow under her head and covering her with an afghan that was draped over the back. She gently brushed a strand of hair from Susan’s face and then kissed her forehead. Next she took Susan’s ID badge and purse, and then stuffed the clothes she had been wearing into her duffel. She paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror on the wall near the door. While she was physically identical to Susan, there were two potentially major differences; her hair and her lack of makeup. Susan always wore her long dark hair in an elaborate up do and her makeup was perfect. Since Brandi had never taken an interest in Susan’s attempts to teach her about such things, she had no idea how to duplicate them. Any attempt to do so was likely to draw more attention to her than doing nothing, so she did nothing. Slipping Susan’s purse over her right shoulder and the duffel over her left, she exited the office, locking the door behind her with Susan’s badge. The guards did not even bat an eye as she left the complex and boarded the helicopter that would take her to Nellis. She had timed her move very carefully, knowing that Susan was leaving that night and would be flying to Washington in the morning on a commercial carrier. Susan should remain asleep for at least eight hours, she hoped, and Brandi would be hundreds of miles away by then. Two hours later she parked Susan’s car at a rest stop on Interstate Fifteen, south of Las Vegas. She took her bag and slipped into the ladies room. Locking herself in one of the stalls, she quickly changed back into her own clothes. Once dressed, she returned to her normal appearance. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she nearly fainted, sagging to sit heavily on the toilet seat. The strain of maintaining a form other than her own for so long had taxed her considerably, and she knew she would not be able to use that trick again for a while. Once she was sufficiently recovered she slipped her boots back on and laced them up. Then she carefully folded up Susan’s clothes and returned to the car. She opened the trunk so that she could lock Susan’s belongings in it and received a shock. There was a package in the trunk, a plain brown wrapped package with an envelope taped to it. The envelope had one word written on it - Brandi. Her hands began to shake as she tore the envelope open and removed the letter inside. As she read the words there, she began to cry. Brandi, I’ve been expecting this day to come for some time. I hope you never have to read this letter, but if you are, I want you to know that I understand why you had to go. Find yourself, my sweet girl, and please be careful. I’ve done what I can to help you. In this package you will find several complete sets of identification. Hopefully you will only need the primary, in the name of Brenda Williams. Use the others if you have to. They are all completely real and clean…Ryan set them up and he assures me that they will stand up to any scrutiny. He really is a wizard with computers. A bank account has been set up for your primary identity and it has a balance of ten thousand dollars. There are also credit cards should you need them for each of the identities. “Ryan, if I ever see you again, I swear I am going to kiss you,” Brandi whispered. Also in the package is ten thousand dollars in cash for immediate needs. Don’t worry about the money, I can afford it, and you are worth every penny. Take care of yourself and do not try to contact me…they will most certainly be watching me. Use the email account information in the package to reach me. Ryan assures me that they will be virtually impossible to trace as well but we have to be careful. Even though they can’t be traced, my computers will certainly be tapped and monitored. Use the email only if absolutely necessary. I miss you already and you haven’t even gone yet. I have never given much thought to having children or a family. I have always been too consumed by my research. But I have come to think of you as a daughter, and the short time you have been in my life has enriched it in ways I cannot describe. I wish I could be with you to guide you and watch you as you blossom into the beautiful young woman I know you will become. I dream some nights of shopping trips and all the fun things mothers and daughters do together. I love you more than words can describe, and my most fervent prayer is that we will have those times someday. With all my love, Susan “I love you too, Momma,” Brandi cried softly. She realized now that her escape plan had left a lot of details out. If it had not been for Susan’s foresight where would she have ended up? She would have been on the street, on the run; with no money and no identity. That would have left her few options for surviving, and none of them were appealing. She took the cash and the documents from the package, placing them in her duffel. Then she took the package and the letter to a trash can and burned them. The rest stop was mostly deserted. A few people did see her, but that didn’t matter at this point. By morning the car would be found and they would know she had been here. What was important was that no one see her leave. Once she was certain the fire had done its work, she put the flames out with the extinguisher from the car’s trunk, and then piled more trash on top of the residue. Now all she had to do was find a truck heading in the right direction …. ***** Dearest Susan, I beg you don’t be too angry with me. I have to find out who I am, and they will never let me do that. They want me as an asset, a robot they can send out to do their bidding. I was never that as Brandon, and I won’t be that now. Tell them not to try and find me. If I come back…if I come back…it will be on my terms and in my time. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I won’t let them bring me back against my will. It won’t do any good, I know, but tell them anyway. I love you Susan. You have been my friend and these last months I have come to see you as my mother in every way possible. You gave birth to me, even if you didn’t intend for it to happen, and you have set me on the road to becoming a woman. I have to finish the journey on my own. You will always be in my heart, and I promise you will see me again. Love, Brandi P.S. - You look really beautiful with your hair down…you should wear it like that more often. Susan set the note back where she had found it on her desk, having read it for the hundredth time since she had awakened, nearly four hours earlier. She had not stirred from her office, but she would have to soon. Her flight was scheduled to land in Washington in a half hour, and when she did not meet the driver that would be waiting for her there, the alarm would go out. But she was determined to give Brandi every second she could. ***** “We found the car at a rest stop south of Las Vegas,” Reginald Mercer said to the group assembled in the briefing room. “We believe she wants us to think she is heading west to Los Angeles. It would be the perfect place to get lost…a girl like her will not stand out so much there. So we will concentrate our search efforts to the east. We suspect she will head for familiar ground, back to Florida where Brandon lived perhaps.” “I suggest you do as she asked and let her go,” Admiral Hammerstein said. “Let her go?” Mercer asked, incredulous. “Admiral with all due respect we have an unstable adolescent that is capable of doing a lot of damage on the loose. I hardly think ‘letting her go’ is a good idea.” “Then find her and watch her!” Hammerstein barked, using the voice that had earned him his nickname as ‘The Hammer’. “But dammit, leave her alone! Let her come to grips with the person she is, because you’re right, Mercer, Brandi is capable of doing a lot of damage. And if you try to force her back, God only knows the damage she is prepared to do.” ***** Arnold Belcher ran his hand through his thick red hair as he guided his tractor trailer along the interstate. He was four hours out of Vegas and there were miles to go before his next stop. Some company might be nice for a change. “Darlin’ you’d be a mite more comfortable sitting up front here,” he said with a deep southern drawl. “Shit,” he heard softly spoken from behind the curtain in the sleeper compartment. The curtain moved aside and his pretty blonde stowaway crawled out and into the passenger seat. “You can just drop me off right here,” the girl said. “Sorry for sneaking into your rig.” “Now that jes’ wouldn’t be right Miss,” Arnie said. “If you need a ride so bad you’d hide in a strange semi, I figure you either need ta get somewhere awful bad, or get away from something awful bad. Either way I don’t see as it’d be right to just leave ya on the interstate.” “Thanks I appreciate it,” the girl said warily. “Ya know that weren’t all that smart a thing ta do, neither,” Arnie continued, his voice taking on a serious tone. “If I was yo daddy, I’d tan your backside for a stunt like that.” “I can take care of myself.” “If you say so, Miss,” Arnie laughed. “But you got no need to be ‘fraid of me. The name’s Arnold Belcher, but you kin call me Arnie.” The trucker extended his right hand and Brandi shook it, her own hand engulfed by the rough flesh. But there was gentleness to his touch, and in that moment of contact she knew he was telling the truth, she had nothing to fear from him. A good thing for him. “Nice to meet you Arnie, my name’s Brenda, Brenda Williams. My friends call me Brandi though, and I think we are going to be friends.” “So where ya headin’ Brandi?” Arnie asked as he turned his attention back towards the road. Brandi had noted that even as he turned to introduce himself to her, his eyes had never strayed from hers, never dropped down to look at her breasts. She felt even better about the big trucker. “Depends. Where are you heading?” Brandi asked. “Riverside, San Diego and LA,” Arnie told her. “Then I pick up another load and head up to San Fran. After that, who knows?” “That’ll do for a start,” Brandi whispered. End of Part 1 |