A Futuristic Science Fiction Adventure Book Series
Scarlet Angel by C.A. Wilke
Series Excerpt
I imagine that I was a stubborn child. My parents probably struggled with getting me to follow rules and let things go. I imagine these things, but really have no idea. I only know what I’m like today. And today...I’m like a bloodhound with a scent.
* * *
Scarlett sat in the seat of her little blue sedan staring at the apartment building across the street. The brick facade was five stories tall and had a red door. Bright yellow, red and blue flowers grew in small windowsill boxes beneath each window.
Scarlett knew the longer she waited, the harder it would be to walk through that door. She could not wait forever.
As she walked across the street and squeezed between the parked cars, her knees felt weak. It was more than just the sprint up five flights of stairs. If she was nervous at entering Universal Dynamics, Scarlet was positively a wreck at the thought of walking into what may have been her home before the accident.
Little more than an hour ago, she had strolled into the corporate offices of the defense contractor, hoping to find some hint as to her connection with the company.
She got more than she expected.
A woman Scarlett had never seen before walked right up to her and called her Jill, confirming her suspicions and giving her a name. But what really frightened, and intrigued her, was the strange man who chased her to her car. Who was he, and who was he on the phone with?
Scarlett’s hand grasped the brass door handle to find it locked. To her left, an intercom buzzer poked out from the wall. She glanced at the button when the door flew open. She jumped back and her heart leaped in her chest. A middle-aged brunette with someone who must have been her husband, from the ring on his finger, exited the building. The woman offered Scarlett an apology for startling her as the couple bounced down the short stone stairs hand in hand.
With her hand on her chest, Scarlett tried to catch her breath. The door swung mostly closed then slowed. Scarlett thrust her hand into the shrinking gap.
Inside, the building was warm but smelled fresh. Dark hardwood clacked under her shoes. She put her foot on the first step and looked up. Her gaze followed the stairway up in a squared spiral. Here we go.
She climbed to the third floor and stood before the door with the brass letter E on it, she knew that even if she had lived there, there would be little to no evidence of her here now. It’s been five years. Somebody’s had to have rented it by now.
She imagined the cute couple leaving the building a few minutes ago living here. Their lives, happy and uneventful, knowing just as little about her past life here as she did. This was their home now.
A sound behind her made her jump again. She spun around to find only the empty hallway. She looked up and down the stairwell, but there was no one to be seen. Maybe just a cat.
Scarlett was about to turn back to the door when she heard the sound again. The thump came from behind the other apartment’s door.
Scarlett took a cautious step toward apartment F. “Hello?”
No one responded.
She crept over and listened. At first there was no sound, but when she placed her ear to the door she heard a faint whisper.
“It’s not real. Listen to Mr. Crow. It’s not real.”
Scarlett leaned back and stared at the door. “Hello? Are you there?”
Still no response, but the whisper became a murmur loud enough to hear several inches from the wood surface.
The young man’s voice quivered with fear. “Listen to Mr. Crow! It’s not real! She’s not real! It’s not real! She’s not real!”
Scarlett twisted her mouth to the side, trying to make sense of the situation. “Um... Sir? I am real. Can I talk to you? Hello?”
As she spoke, the man’s voice grew even louder, as if he was trying to drown her out. The voice yelled a final “You’re not real!” before Scarlett heard feet thumping away, deeper into the apartment.
Damn.
Another voice called from the stairwell, catching her off guard. “Can I...help.. help you?”
Scarlett turned to see a man of East Indian descent in his mid-fifties standing on the landing between the second and third floors. His face was familiar, yet still foreign to her. She was not sure how, but she knew this man.
He gawked at her with his mouth open. His words were barely a whisper. “Ms. McAdams.”
* * *
Scarlett carefully watched Rishabh lean over and pour the steaming brown liquid into her cup. Logic told her to flee while she could; it told her not to trust anyone. But her ghost-like memories, those flashes of insight and remembrance that came and went over and over in her mind’s eye, told her he was not a threat. After pouring his own cup, Rishabh sat down. The two sat in his kitchen at an old table covered with an avocado-green laminate and wrapped with a dented aluminum edging. The table reminded her of something from the 1970’s. To her right was an old stove and an even older refrigerator.
She looked from her cup out the window to her left. A leaf fell from a tree on the far side of the street and landed on her car.
Rishabh Dwivedi was the owner and super for the building. His salt-and-pepper hair and grey mustache contrasted against his light brown skin. Scarlett couldn’t remember any specifics about their relationship, friendly or otherwise. But her heart trusted him.
The man stirred the milk and sugar in his cup, turning the dark liquid into a soft mocha color. She watched him slowly pick up the cup and take a sip.
Scarlett held her own cup in her hands, feeling the warmth soak into her fingers. “This is probably going to sound like a really crazy question, but... Who am I?”
Rishabh’s chair creaked as he leaned back and regarded her. His eyes showed no sign of surprise. When he spoke, his voice was deep with a barely distinguishable Hindi accent. “Not such a strange question. At least, not based on your reaction to seeing me.”
Scarlett had to keep her jaw from dropping. “Uh. Were we, um...”
He leaned his head back and laughed loudly. “Oh my, no. Nothing like that. Other than the monthly rent collection, we would play an occasional game of Pachisi. But that is all.”
“Parcheesi?” Scarlett’s brow wrinkled.
Rishabh laughed again. “More or less. It is just a simple board game. We would just sit and play while we sipped chai.”
“Oh.” Scarlett gazed down into her own cup and the light brown liquid. She picked it up and took a sip. The warm, creamy liquid flowed over her tongue. Her mouth exploded in a spicy riot of flavors. She picked out the cinnamon and hints of cardamom. The rest was just a blur.
“Wow... that’s really good.”
Rishabh smiled. “It always was your favorite.”
A long moment of awkward silence fell on the pair. Scarlett wanted to ask a dozen questions but could not find the words.
Finally, Rishabh broke the silence. “Are you happy?”
She looked down into her cup. “Am I happy? I, um... Yeah. I’m happy.”
His face widened into a smile. “Good. Do not take this the wrong way, but... go home. Jillian was not a happy person. There is nothing here for you.”
“Yes, there is.”
“What? What is so important that, suddenly after five years of not having it, you cannot live without?”
Scarlett looked up from her cup and into Rishabh’s eyes. “My past. I’ve lived the last few years in complete ignorance and bliss without it. But now it’s come back for me. I didn’t ask for this.”
“Then forget, Ji...it, Scarlett. Forget what is past and live in the now.”
On the way from Universal Dynamics, she had struggled with the idea of going home and leaving whatever troubled past she’d had. Rishabh’s calm voice coupled with her own frustrations grated on her nerves, making her words more forceful than she intended. “I can’t.”
“Ah.”
“I can’t even explain why. This is not just an argument I don’t want to let go. This is... who I am.”
Rishabh sipped loudly from his cup. “It is not where we have been, but rather where we are going that makes us who we are.”
Scarlett’s irritation evaporated and she cracked a smile. “Oh, please. If I remember anything, it’s that you are NOT a guru.”
Rishabh laughed with her. “Very true. I am just as much a consumerist and couch potato as anyone else in this building. But my father was. That was something he told me when he bought this place. Of course, at the time he was thinking he would make it rich in real estate, but hey.”
Scarlett looked back out the window. “Rishabh... what happened? To me? To the guy in F?”
“I don’t know exactly what happened.” The older man sighed and set his cup on the table. “You survived an accident at your work, just barely. After a few weeks in the hospital, you came home. I remember hearing you come in.”
He took another sip of chai. “But I never saw you. Never heard you leave. A few days later, the police came, asked a bunch of questions. They told us you were missing.
‘Later we heard they thought you were dead. Something about a break-in... Maybe even an attempted rape. That was the rumor anyway.”
Scarlett’s brow wrinkled. None of it made sense. “What about...?”
“Frank in F? I don’t know. He’s always been a little off. But since you disappeared, he’s been much worse. Every time someone mentions your name he flies off about listening to the crow, whatever that means.”
She set her own cup down. “Yeah, he said something about that.”
Scarlett looked down at her car sitting across the street then at her phone. “Well, Rishabh, it’s getting late. I better go.”
Rishabh stood and walked over and retrieved a dusty shoebox from above his fridge. “Since you insist on knowing, I have this.”
She took the box from him. “What is it?”
“It’s just a few things I saved from your apartment. I’m sorry to say that everything else is gone, but we thought you were dead.”
Scarlett smiled at him. She reached out and hugged the man. “That’s okay. I understand. Thank you for this, though. And for the cup of tea and the talk. It means a lot.”
Rishabh walked over and opened the door to the stairwell. “I would say that you need to keep in touch, but you shouldn’t. Go home. Don’t come back. Be happy with who you are now.”
She just smiled. “I’ll think about it. Bye, Rishabh.”
He smiled back at her. “You take care.”
* * *
Scarlett turned the key in the ignition and the little car’s engine sputtered to life. Warm air spewed forth from the vents, making more sweat bead on her forehead. She always hated it when she forgot to crack the windows.
She glanced over at the dusty box on the seat next to her. She wanted to know what was inside but dreaded opening it. Rishabh had been right. She was happy. Why did she need to look into what appeared to be a troubled and unhappy past?
Scarlett thought about Ruby, Cash, Emma and the kids. If her past was dangerous, it was better to just let it be. The last thing she wanted was to endanger anyone in her new family.
But what about my old family? That thought worried her. She must have had a mother and father in her past life, people who cared about her. Wouldn’t they be happy to see her too? Or would the dangers of her own history come back to haunt them as well?
No matter how much she wanted to know about her former life and the people it involved, she could not escape the thought of putting them in peril. Even people barely connected to her like Rishabh and Frank in apartment F, with his ramblings about Mr. Crow, could get hurt. If there was any chance of that, she had to avoid it.
Scarlett came to a decision. She glanced at the box one last time.
Someday I’ll open you up. But not today.
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