John Locke - Saving Rachel

Thank God she hasn’t yet learned that her only sister has been murdered.

Again, my fault.

Nor has the last day or so been a picnic for Karen Vogel. This singular beauty fell in love with a man she thought was loyal, wealthy, and single. She trusted me, slept with me, and found a dead man in her trunk. She’s been kidnapped and threatened and discovered she’s been dating a married man. She’s been forced to meet my wife, has been nearly killed, and now finds herself in the position of having to beg me to spare her life—me, the guy who caused all these terrible things to happen to her.

Rachel turns away first. She goes to her cooler, takes out a bottle of water, and drinks it greedily. That must seem like a good idea to Karen, because she does the same. Rachel glares at me a few seconds before going back to the spot she seems to prefer, with her back touching the far wall. She still has on the suit she’d worn to work, a lightweight black Italian tweed with a shawl-collared jacket. The matching skirt would have stopped about two inches above the knee had she been standing. But she slides down the wall now and assumes her former posture of hugging her knees close to her chest. This is not a time for modesty, nor is it appropriate for me to notice, but she is inadvertently flashing her panties. Maybe I’m noticing because of the photograph I’d seen this morning—or yesterday, or whenever it was. They’d used a body double with black panties and the white bra with Karen’s initials. In light of all that’s transpired since that moment, I have to wonder why they went to so much trouble. What was the point of the photograph? I’ll probably never know.

At any rate, Rachel is not wearing black panties today. They’re tan, like the ankle-wrapped sandals she’d removed earlier to bang against the wall when trying to get my attention.

Karen is pacing the floor. She keeps glancing at me, giving me hopeful looks. She’s scared, but there’s hope in her eyes. She knows she has the advantage. She’s younger, prettier, nicer, and has no baggage. I look at Rachel again. Her eyes are shut tight, and she’s rocking a bit and appears to be moaning. I wonder if she’s wishing she hadn’t been so distant these last few months. I don’t like the position I’m in, can’t stand the thought of having to choose one of these women to die, but somewhere inside of me—God help me!—there’s a tiny voice that wonders if Rachel might be rethinking the way she’s treated me since being in the cubicle. It couldn’t possibly escape her notice that while she was cursing and bitching and begging our captors to set her free, Karen was saying she loved me. Indeed, the first words out of Karen’s mouth when regaining consciousness were to ask me if I was okay. I’m not proud to admit to that tiny voice inside me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that some part of me is actually looking forward to hearing what Rachel might say to me. Will she beg for her life? Of course she will. Will she mean it? That’s the billion-dollar question, isn’t it?

I watch Karen gather the blanket around her. She’s using it to shield herself as she pees. Rachel notices her too. She sneers and shakes her head in disgust, and I have a strong feeling these two could share a foxhole for the duration and never be friends.

The voice interrupts my thoughts.

“We tossed a coin. Rachel, you get to go first. Remember, you have one minute to make your case. Sam, pay attention.”

Chapter 26

Rachel stands and crosses the floor in her bare feet. She places her hands on the Lucite wall. She’s standing as close to me as she can, and she gives me a sort of half smile and says, “Sam, I don’t know quite what to say. We’ve been together all these years, and I’ve always tried to be there for you. If someone had told me a week ago that you had the power to decide my fate, I wouldn’t have worried for one second, because I thought you loved me as much as I’ve always loved you.

“Now, I’m not so sure. I look at the cell across from me and I see a woman who’s younger than me, prettier than me, a woman who says she loves you. And worse, a little while ago, I heard you say that you loved her.

“I can’t tell you how badly my heart hurts right now. Try to put yourself in my position. All I’ve done to be here is to love you. A part of me understands why you cheated. I know I haven’t been the most attentive wife in the world, but you know I’ve always been faithful to you and I’ve never stopped loving you. And, Sam, I love you still.

“I’m not going to lie. If you choose to let me live, we’re going to have some stressful times. I can’t promise we’ll make it. But I promise I’ll try.

“Baby, I know at one time you loved me with all your heart. If there’s still a spark inside you that wants me, I’d like the chance to live. I won’t beg you, but I’d like to think my husband feels I’m worth saving. If you feel differently, I hope you know that I have always loved you and always will.”

She removes her wedding ring, kisses it, puts it back on her finger, presses her lips together, and nods. When she nods, I see tears spill from her eyes. She moves back to her spot against the far wall but remains standing.

The voice says, “Karen, Rachel took twelve extra seconds. You can have the same.”

Karen is wearing white thresher-cut jeans that have a pale blue tie-dye pattern running through them. She has on a matching blue tube top and blue strappy sandals with stiletto heels. Like Rachel, Karen moves to the closest point of her cubicle so she can look into my eyes. She says, “Sam, I hate them for putting you in this position. I’m not happy you didn’t tell me about being married, but I love you. I love you, Sam, and I’m sure you didn’t consider yourself married in your heart when you were with me. I never would have gone out with you if you’d told me, and that’s probably why you decided not to. But we did go out, and I fell in love with you, and that hasn’t changed.

“I don’t want your wife to die, I swear to God I don’t. But if it has to be one of us, wouldn’t it be better to choose the one that represents your future instead of your past? She’s had her chance. If she’d treated you the way you deserve, you never would have strayed in the first place.

“I don’t want her to die, Sam. I do not want her to die. But I don’t want to die either. You and I still have a chance to build a life together. I don’t know if your wife wants children or not, but you told me that you do. And I do too, but not until you’re ready. Because until you’re ready for children, you’ve got every inch of this …”

She quickly begins removing her clothes and doesn’t stop until she is completely naked, save for the stiletto sandals. Then she says, “Sam, this is yours. It’s yours whenever you want it. I swear to God I will make you the happiest man who ever lived. Please choose me. Please, Sam, I’m begging you, begging you to spare my life—so I can give it to you.”

Karen stood at the glass, legs shoulder-length apart, arms out to either side, like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, except that Karen looks a million times hotter than the guy in the drawing.

The voice says, “Sam, you’ve got a tough decision to make. But it’s time.”

I say, “You can’t expect me to do this. It’s inhuman.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t look at it like you’re causing a death. Because what you’re really doing is saving a life. Unfortunately, if you don’t make a choice between your wife and mistress in the next ten seconds, we’re going to kill them both. Shall I begin the countdown?”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out completely, along with my soul.

“Not necessary,” I say. “I’ve made my decision.”

Chapter 27

Ilook at Karen. Though she’s been through a lot, I doubt she’s ever looked so beautiful.

“Karen,” I say, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Her face falls. She starts crying. Loudly at first, but then she nods her head, resigning herself to her fate. She cries softly another minute and then realizes she’s still naked. She steps awkwardly into her panties, keeping her left hand on the wall to steady herself. She nearly trips trying to get her jeans on and then gives up, sits on the floor, and removes her sandals.

When she’s finally dressed, the voice says, “Karen, you’ve been a good sport. If it’s any consolation, we would have chosen you.”

Karen shrugs and says, “You still can, you know.”

The voice says, “Is there anything you wish to say to Sam before we start the vacuum pump?”

She looks at me and sighs. “I guess this proves you never would have left your wife for me. If you care, I think you made the wrong decision.”

“I’m sorry, Karen,” I say. “So, so sorry. I wish to God there was something I could do.”

The voice says, “Sam, we’ve got to know. What made you choose Rachel?”

I look at my wife. For the first time since the decision was announced, she looks in my direction. I think she was so convinced I’d choose Karen, the idea that she’s safe hasn’t sunk in yet.

“We’ve had our share of problems,” I say, “but we’ve got history. Maybe she hasn’t been perfect, but I haven’t either. I want a second chance, and I’m hoping she gives me one.” “Well, you’ll soon have a chance to find out. Karen?” “Yes, sir?” “Sit tight awhile. We’re going to take this in a different direction for a minute.” All three of us look at each other, wondering what fresh hell the voice has in store for us.

The voice says, “Sam, you’ve already made your choice, so there’s no turning back. However, it might interest you to know that Rachel has a secret of her own.”

Rachel’s face drains itself of all color.

The voice continues, “Rachel, would you like to tell Sam what you’ve been up to? Or shall we?”

Somewhere in my brain, a puzzle piece is trying to fall into place. I can’t quite make it fit, but as I watch Rachel standing in her cell, pale-faced and visibly squirming, I know the missing piece is a person:

Donovan Creed.

He’s the one who said he’d save me. I asked if he would save Rachel and he said, “Sam, when it all goes down, if that’s what you want, I’ll save Rachel too.”

Later he’d said, “I’ll help you get her back, if that’s what you want ,” which means Creed knew about Rachel. Whatever I’m going to hear about her, Creed already knows. He promised to save me and said he’d save Rachel too— if that’s what I wanted .

Despite the death-level of stress I’ve been subjected to—add to that what I’m about to learn about Rachel—I suddenly see the slightest glimmer of hope. Creed’s promise to get me out of here, with Rachel, if that’s what I want, suddenly feels possible. I glance across the parking lot at the black, tarp-covered cage that holds Creed and wonder if he’s still alive. If so, I wonder if he’s still moving his hands over the Lucite surfaces, searching for a weakness in the structure.

Then, just as quickly, I lose all hope, because I just caught that other little thought that was running around in my brain—the one where I’m about to pull into my driveway and Creed tells me to hurry up because there’s not much time to get to the secret room. During which time, Creed once again tells me he’ll save me, but he says, “If what?”

And I had answered, “If I don’t let them steal your money.”

And, of course, I had let them steal his money. I’d given them the codes, all of them, including Creed’s. But wait—wasn’t there a sub-clause, a caveat that might yet make my life worth saving?