Lovecraft and the Brothers Grimm

I beat on the partition. "I want to speak to my aunt! If you don't let me speak to her I'm going to make such a fuss that you'll think you have a lion in your back seat!" I took off my shoe and began to beat on the window.

A slot in the partition opened and a phone came through. The driver spoke and I recognized that voice. It was the man on the video clip. "Call her. Here's the number. Are you ready?"

I opened the phone app and I was ready. He gave me the number and it rang twice. "Collins?" It was aunt Vivian.

"Yes, how did you know it was me?" I asked.

"They told me you might want to speak to me."

"Are you all right, Aunt Viv? Is Gregg okay? Did they let you go?"

"Yes, yes and yes," she said. "Where are you, Collins?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "The princess is in Nairobi with Dynaelectron."

She gave a little gasp. "Collins... Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I understand, sweetheart. It's okay. We're safe. Don't worry about us. Buckle your seatbelt, Collins. Buckle your damn seatbelt, do you hear me?"

"Yes, I will. Damn, Aunt Vivian, what's with the damn seat..."

"Just do it, Collins! For once in your life, don't ask me any questions."

"Okay, okay!" I buckled it and said, "Okay, I did it."

"Good." She sighed and it sounded like she was crying.

"End the call and put the phone back through," the driver told me."

"No," I said. "You aren't the boss of me." Somehow, he managed to end the call, but I didn't give him the phone.

We sat there in silence for a minute, then the car started to move. The windows were very dark, but I could make out that we were leaving the airport. I had no idea where I was being taken, but I couldn't see anything I could do at the moment, so I just looked out the window as best I could. I kept my shoe in my hand, concealed by my leg. When I got the chance, someone was going to get that shoe to the throat.

We weren't moving that fast, maybe 30, I thought. We stopped at a traffic light, and when we started through the intersection, I saw a truck barreling toward us. I only had time to grab the panic handle on the back of the seat in front of me and draw in my breath for a scream.

There was a roar and a screech of impact, tearing metal, shattering glass and I finally got that scream out. It was a tiny, puny and insignificant thing as that huge truck smashed squarely into the driver's door and I was flung across the seat, only my seatbelt saving me from breaking every bone in my body against the other door. There was the shrieking of rubber on the pavement and that truck pushed us 40 feet down the road at a right angle to our former direction and finally the noise and impact came to an end.

I sat there, numb, for a minute. There were two shots up in the driver's compartment, and that brought me out of my shock. The window was broken beside me and I frantically worked at the seatbelt so I could climb out that window. I never got a chance. The door opened and Dad was standing there. He leaned in, unbuckled me and lifted me out.

"Are you okay, baby?" His voice was full of concern.

"I... I don't know." I couldn't think, couldn't move.

"Try to walk," he said. "Collins! Try to walk! Snap out of it. We don't have much time!"

"Sorry." I took a step or two. Everything seemed to work. My neck was stinging and I felt of it. My hand came away slick. It was blood! "I'm bleeding," I said.

He took a quick look. "It isn't anything," he said. "Come on, we need to move."

It all fell on me like a ton of bricks and I began to cry. "I can't," I sobbed.

"What? Why, we gotta go!" Dad was practically shouting.

"I lost my shoe," I sobbed. "I really like these shoes, Dad."

He snatched me up and squeezed me. I realized that I hurt, all over. I groaned. "Sorry, sorry," he said. "My poor little girl. I'm so sorry. We'll get you a new pair of shoes, baby girl. A hundred pairs! I know, baby, you are a mess, and who wouldn't be. Still, we have to go."

I noticed there were five more men with him. "Uncle Tony?" I couldn't believe it was him. He wasn't really my uncle, but I called him that. He was a friend of Dad's from before he adopted me: some kind of spy, or something. He would never talk about it.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said. "No time to love on you like I want to. We gotta go."

Dad carried me and we all went and got in three cars. Dad put me in the passenger seat and he drove one of them. We went swooping along and soon we were going through a waterfront area. We pulled up on a pier and Dad told me to get out.

He carried me up on a ship and through some passageways to a room that was obviously an infirmary. There was a woman who was dressed in scrubs and she made Dad leave. She helped me undress and put me in a shower. God, I hurt all over. I was scraped and scratched in a million places and the soap she gave me stung all of them like bees were stinging me.

I yelped a few times and the woman asked me if I was okay. I was, and she cleaned me up when I got out, put some more stinging shit on me and gave me a big fluffy robe.

"Umm... Ms..."

"Doctor Johnson," she said.

"Yeah, Dr. Johnson, I kind of hate to be a complainer, and all, but I would sort of like some panties and a pair of socks if I'm going to be receiving company," I said.

She laughed hysterically. "Of course you would, Wait right here."

She was gone a couple of minutes and came back with the ugliest panties I had ever seen and what looked like men's black dress socks.

She saw my look of dismay and burst out laughing again. "I'm sorry, honey, but our wardrobe choices for women are limited. Don't worry, no one is going to be looking at your panties but me, and they're mine, so I've seen them before."

We laughed together and I hurt all over. She saw me wince. "You're going to be as sore as hell for a while," she said. I'll give you something. She opened a safe and got me some kind of pill. I got a cup of water from the cooler against the wall and swallowed that big-ass pill.

I followed her down a passageway and into another room. There were six beds in it, bunk style. She got me into the second one, took my robe, got me under the covers and went away. In a few minutes, Dad came in.

"How you doing, tiger?" he had a twinkle in his eye.

"Are Aunt Vivian and Gregg okay?" I asked.

"They are," he said. "They're occupying your cabin on that apple farm, at the moment. We'll do something about that when we get back. We're going for a little boat ride and then we'll fly back.

"Sorry about the rough rescue, pumpkin."

"Did you shoot the driver?" I asked.

"No, I didn't," he said. He emphasized the "I."

I didn't ask any more questions. "Was it Mira?" I asked.

"Yes, it had her handiwork all over it," he said. "I know of her. The driver was Kenyan. Ex-army. It was her."

"What am I going to do about her?" I asked. "Am I going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life?"

"You aren't going to be doing anything about her," he said. "I've got this."

I believed him. "Come here," I demanded.

He sat down on the bed beside me and I pulled on him until he laid down beside me. I snuggled him and let that sick nasty pill Doctor Johnson gave me take me away.

*****

Gregg and I got married six months after we graduated. Dad walked me down the aisle and a very pregnant Aunt Vivian was my Matron of honor. She and Mason got married two years later, and I returned the favor with my belly pushing out my dress. Dad bought a house about a mile away from us and Mason and Aunt Vivian lived three blocks away.

It wasn't exactly a fairy tale, but we've lived happily ever after until now. The wicked stepmother got hers, too. Three days before our second baby was born, Dad called me and told me to check my e-mail. Mira had been killed by rebels while traveling down a stretch of deserted road between two towns. They weren't necessarily going for her, but she got caught in the crossfire. It wasn't a poison apple, but I was satisfied. Maybe fairy tales really do happen.