Page 88 of Her Faithful Protector

“Ty!”

The radio is dead. I think this room is completely isolated.

As I pivot, my gaze meets the figure of Willem himself. If it wasn’t for his arms raising in surrender, his whole frame would only reach my chest. He appears in a flawless suit, resembling his pre-fugitive style.

It’s clear that my arrival ahead of his invitation is getting tohim. But he masks the flash of annoyance with a smile. His eyes turn hopeful, much like those ambitious businesspeople who are eager to befriend you.

“You’ve read my mind,” he says. “Although not entirely. If you had brought Quinton with you, I might have let you go.”

I point the gun at him. “Where’s Ava?”

Trying to salvage his pride, Willem responds, “You’ve made it too easy, Mr. Kelleher. You can’t do anything about her. But, I must remind you, on the other side of the room, there’s a machine that holds the answers to all your life’s questions.”

Ignoring his words, I repeat, “Where’s Ava?”

Willem scoffs, “You’d rather choose her? She’s just an emotional crutch for you. Once you uncover your past, you’ll feel fulfilled and move on to a bigger and better thing. How does Colonel Jack Kelleher sound? Or even General?” He pauses to appraise me. “Or maybe you’ll find another woman instead of stealing someone else’s wife!”

I retort fiercely, “She’s not your wife! She never was and never will be.”

“You’re right. She’s not, and she won’t ever be. Sometimes, I forget that.” Willem straightens himself. “But she won’t be yours either, Mr. Kelleher. So you might as well take the only offer on the table. I’m giving you the key to the mystery behind your lingering pain, and in return, you let Quinton go. It’s a fair deal.”

My patience is wearing thin. I press the gun against his forehead. “Your end of the bargain is at the end of this barrel.”

Willem laughs. “Go ahead and shoot me. And you’ll get out of here empty-handed, or worse still, empty-chested.”

With that, the room plunges into darkness. I aim my gun, but it’s pointed at nothing but hollow air. Willem has vanished.

“Fuck! Willem!” I shout, but all I hear is the echo of my own voice.

I turn on my flashlight, scanning the room for any sign of him. Then, a light flickers on behind one of the walls, which has transformed into a wide window. Through the glass, I see Ava sitting helplessly in a room filled with computers. Her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes tell a tale of immense pain and hardship.

“Ava!” I yell, pounding at the thick glass.

She rises from her seat, revealing a bandage wrapped around her left hand, blood seeping through. My jaw tightens, and an unquenchable rage soars behind my ribcage. No one can empty my chest until Willem Botha is eradicated!

Ava’s voice comes through a speaker as she cries out. She tries to conceal her injured hand, pressing herself against the glass with her right palm, the one unmarred. “Jack… can you see me? Can you hear me?”

“Back away! Back away, Ava!” I shout, hoping she can hear me. She runs back, seeking cover behind a desk on the other side of the room.

I release a few shots at the glass, but to my dismay, I realize it’s bulletproof. How the fuck am I going to get to her?

Just then, Willem appears behind Ava, pulling her back, taking her into his arms, and laughing triumphantly.

This room is an illusion, constantly changing its appearance. I search every side, desperate to reach Ava. Finally, my eyes lock onto a lever, discreetly tucked at the end of a shallow hole in the wall, right next to the wide, bulletproof window. My grip on the gun tightens in my right hand as I mentally prepare myself for any potential threats, whether from the other side or lurking behind me.

I extend my left hand into the hole, my fingers finding the lever. With caution, I press it.

Fuck!

A powerful suction pulls my arm in, and I’m helpless to fight it. At the same time, a ring constricts just above my elbow, immobilizing it. The only possible escape is to cut my forearm.

Just like the other deceptive elements in this sinister space, nothing is as it seems, and I have fallen into its trap. My arm is stuck inside a narrow steel tube, the unrelenting air pressure mercilessly tormenting my flesh and bones. It feels as if an enormous weight is crushing my forearm while pliers squeeze my fingers with excruciating force.

Willem’s mocking voice emerges from the same speaker as Ava’s. “A pressure chamber to a microchip is like fire to a sword.”

Ava desperately pleads for him to let me go, but Willem remains unaffected. Behind the glass, he puts on a show, kissing her lips and fondling her breasts.

“Willem you fucking cockbag!” I yell.

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