Chapter Three

"Look happy, Lis, we're on a date."

Lisa rolled her head to the side. "I don't think I'm capable of smiling," she slurred.

They were sitting in a booth at a flashy diner. It was too early for the normal breakfast rush, but single customers wearing work attire from business skirts to construction belts were starting to trickle in. Lisa could hardly remember how they got there. All she remembered was being dragged, stumbling, through rough asphalt streets. At one point, she may have been forced into a car. She also became aware that she was wearing a soft sweater over her blouse. To cover up the cuts on her back, she realized somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Alright. If that's how you want to play it." Jackson pulled her towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. When she tried feebly to resist, he forced it back down with his hand and began to stroke her hair. Lisa's nose filled with the sickly-sweet smell of his cologne. She didn't know what prompted her-some pheromone-induced instinct, perhaps-but she turned her face in towards his neck.

He had stubble. Almost newly-shaven stubble. The sight comforted Lisa in a strange and unexpected way. If this man shaved, then he must be human. All humans had a weakness. She just had to find his.

Lisa became aware that Jackson had paused mid-stroke. Then she realized that her lips were nearly touching his cologne-scented, stubbly neck. Mortified, she turned her head away. Jackson resumed stroking her hair.

"You're doing great," he commended, "Keep up the act."

The waitress came over then. She was wearing a pepto bismol pink uniform with a white collar and a white apron tied around her waist. Her hay-like hair was piled on top of her head and she had a beauty mark beside her bright red lips that was the size of a pea. She leaned on their table, popped her gum, and said, "What c'n I getcha, sweethearts?"

"Hi," Jackson said with a wry smile, "I'll have the eggs benedict with a side of toast." He looked down at Lisa. "What would you like, dear?"

"Just some aspirin," Lisa mumbled. Jackson's hand left her hair. He laughed and turned to the waitress.

"She's had a bit too much to drink," he explained in his calm, snakelike voice. Suddenly, Lisa felt the pressure of cold steel against her back. She immediately sat up straight. She knew that to the waitress, it looked like Jack was resting his hand on her back. But she could feel the tip of the knife digging into her skin. She sat even straighter.

"I'll have the same," Lisa said with a strained smile.

"Two eggs benedicts. I'll be right back with your orders." The waitress shoved the pen into her hair and ambled off.

"Was that necessary?" Lisa groaned. She could feel a drop of blood trailing slowly down her back, but her limbs felt too heavy for her to do anything about it. Jackson grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them against the cut.

"Classical conditioning, Lis. Soon, you will do exactly what I say without questioning my motives."

Jackson's phone rang. He flipped it open on the first ring with the hand that wasn't pressed against Lisa's back.

"Hello...Yes...Yes..." He pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on a napkin. "Got it," then he hung up.

Lisa leaned back against the booth and tried to stay awake. She felt like she had just had two full glasses of wine. It took most of her energy to concentrate on one thought.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"In a diner." Of course.

She could remember Jack chasing her through that nearly-abandoned district the night before. With the exception of the priest, she hadn't seen a single person there the entire night. That was the last time she called a cab to take her home.

Lisa closed her eyes and remembered the heart-stopping fright she'd had when Jack appeared before her once again. It was like all of her nightmares had come together to fabricate the one spector that haunted her most of them all.

The evening had started off fine. She'd taken a cab to Cynthia's house. It was the first time she'd ever been over. Lisa hadn't wanted to go at first, but eventually she'd convinced herself that it would be best if she got out and did something for once. The two of them had the nicest dinner together. Cynthia made Lisa laugh with her stories about the patrons at the Motel 6, where she'd found a job until the Lux Atlantic was done with the repairs. They had laughed all night. Some time after they'd finished dessert, Lisa called another cab.

Lisa reflected now that something had seemed off about the cab driver. He wouldn't look her directly in the eye. He said as little as possible. But then, when they were at a stoplight, she'd caught him staring at her with wide, worried eyes. When she smiled at him, he immediately glanced away.

It wasn't until ten minutes into the ride when Lisa realized something was wrong. She sat up straight and asked, "Are you sure you're going the right way?" The surroundings were beginning to look sketchier and sketchier. Nothing like the neighborhoods that surrounded her apartment.

"Yes," he responded quietly in his Haitian accent. And then he stopped the car. He'd stopped it in this empty, quiet town where there wasn't a single residence in sight. The crickets were far too loud.

"What are you doing?" she'd asked the cab driver, trying desperately to hide the worry in her voice. Since the Red Eye, she'd been suspicious about everything. The smallest things put her on edge. But this was more than out-of-the-ordinary. Cab drivers didn't just stop in the middle of nowhere.

And then Jackson appeared in her window.

The alarm that immediately sounded in Lisa's head was deafening. Her body went rigid from shock. For a second, she questioned her vision and her sanity. Then Jack smiled and she knew it was real.

"Start the car! Start the car!" she'd screamed to the cab driver. She locked her door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and lunged over the seats in an attempt to turn the key. But the cabbie blocked the key with his hand.

"I am sorry," he said. Lisa looked at him for the briefest of moments, but she captured an image that said a thousand words. Tears brimmed in his eyes. It was obvious that this wasn't his choice. His face reflected the exact way that Lisa had felt when Jackson had threatened her father on the plane. Dread pulled Lisa's stomach to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, she dove for the door on the other side of the car, opened it, and ran.

Lisa let out a shaky breath. She knew she should be trying to find a way out now; she should be scanning her surroundings for a means of escape. But her vision was fuzzy, and so were her thoughts. It frustrated her to no end. It was like a dream where she was being chased, but couldn't scream. She'd had a lot of dreams like that in the past couple years.

When their food arrived, Lisa just stared at it. She didn't even try to pick up her fork.

"Do you need me to feed you?" Jackson asked, giving her a condescending look with those steel blue eyes.

"No."

"I would eat if I were you, Lis. This may be your last decent meal."

An alarm sounded in her head, helping to wake her up. "What do you mean?"

He just looked at her and gave her a cool smile, the kind that perfectly defined his high cheek bones. "You'll find out soon," he said and patted her head.

Lisa jerked away from his touch and glared up at him as best as she could. "Tell me," she said, "or I'll scream."

"Scream," he retorted, "And I'll shove this pen into your throat." He again revealed the Frankenstein pen.

Lisa let out an exasperated huff. She put her head in her hands and moaned, "I'm not hungry."

Jackson shrugged. "It's your money."

Lisa looked up to see him fishing a couple twenties out of her wallet. "Where did you get that?" she asked.

"You left it in the cab, along with the rest of your personal belongings." He held up the therapist's business card that she'd been given after the incident. "Tell me, exactly how much does Dr. Schroeder know about our little plane ride?"

"Nothing…I never went."

"I know."

Lisa stared at Jack. His words slowly sunk in. "...What?" she finally asked.

"I said I know. For the past six months, you haven't gone anywhere. I was surprised you got up the courage to visit Cynthia. But if you hadn't, how would I have been able to reunite with my favorite person?" He spat the last two words. The sudden hostility in his voice was jarring.

"It doesn't sound like you wanted to see me again," Lisa observed.

"Oh, I did. I wanted to see you, and I wanted to kill you. But as fate has it, they wouldn't allow that, oh no."

"They? Who's 'they?'"

Jackson regarded her coolly. "You really do ask too many questions," he said, and continued eating.

Lisa spent the rest of the breakfast staring at her food and trying to clear her mind. She wished Jack wasn't sitting on the outside of the booth; otherwise, she would have easily made her run for it, no matter how much the drug slowed her down. But Jack, of course, would never allow that to happen.

The drug's effects were finally starting to wear off. Lisa's thoughts were coming more fluidly now. But so was her adrenaline. She became acutely aware that Jack was kidnapping her, and had orders from someone higher up to take her...where? It didn't matter. What mattered was that she had to escape before it got that far. Her heart gradually picked up speed.

Lisa was starting to get an idea of how she could get out of this. Her plan in the bathroom of the Red Eye had almost worked last time; maybe this time it would actually work. If she locked the bathroom door from the inside, Jack wouldn't be able to erase her message, and they would have to open that door eventually. Or maybe she could just lock herself inside the bathroom and refuse to come out. She could yell a warning to everyone within the safety of the bathroom, and the police would be there in no time, she was sure of it. The plan was nearly foolproof. She just had to execute it.

First things first: Lisa couldn't let Jack know that she was regaining her consciousness. She pushed her plate away and laid her head down on the table with a small groan.

"What's wrong, Lis?" Jack said impatiently, with a blatantly forced smile. She could see him discreetly scanning their surroundings to see if anyone was watching.

"Tired..." she responded.

Jack was about to make a retort, but their waitress appeared just in time.

"How d'you like the-oh, hon, are you doin' alright?"

Jack rubbed Lisa's back gently and looked up at the waitress. "She's not feeling too well," he said. "Could you bring me a cool wash rag please?" It was the same thing he had asked of the priest. Practically the same thing he'd said to the flight attendant when he'd asked for the aspirin and tissues, too. Stupid sympathy card, Lisa mused.

"Of course, hon, of course. I'll be right back." She hurried away, her pepto bismol butt sashaying back and forth as she walked.

"You can stop rubbing my back now," Lisa mumbled.

"Oh no, I don't think I will. I like feeling you tense up beneath me." Slowly, he trailed his hand up her spine and brought it to her neck. Her heart picked up even more. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed into the soft skin just beneath her jaw bone.

"What are you doing?" Lisa squeaked.

"Just wondering how you could be so tired when your heart is beating that fast." He released her neck and smiled down at her. "Just as I thought; the drug has worn off completely. Nice try, Lis. You almost had me."

The waitress appeared again. "Here you go. Just let me know if there's anythin' else you need."

Jack accepted the rag and flashed the waitress a charming smile. "Just the check would be great."

"Of course, hon."

Jack turned away from Lisa then. Lisa slowly lifted her head to see what he was doing. When he turned back, he put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her back onto the table.

"No, please, by all means you should rest," he said. Lisa felt her face land on something soft and damp. She realized with horror that it was Jack's hand holding the rag. His other hand moved up to her head and locked her there. Lisa tried not to breathe, but she hadn't taken a deep breath to begin with. Her lungs needed oxygen. Reflexively, she gasped. The chloroform filled her lungs and immediately took effect. Lisa's eyelids fluttered and closed.

When Lisa stopped struggling, Jack pulled his hand away from her mouth. He looked around quickly. Nobody had noticed. He stuffed the rag into his pocket and gently repositioned Lisa's head on her hands.

The waitress came back and handed him the check. She looked at Lisa inquisitively.

Jack put a finger to his mouth. "She fell asleep," he whispered. He smiled down at Lisa and placed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Isn't she cute when she's sleeping?"

The waitress nodded her head. "Y'all make a very cute couple," she said.

"I know. Here, keep the change." He placed Lisa's twenty on the table.

"Thanks, hon. Do you need help getting her out of there?"

"I've got it. Thanks." When the waitress was gone, Jackson stepped out of the booth and reached back in to gather up Lisa's limp body. She seemed so frail. "Upsy-daisy," he mumbled as he lifted her. Then he carried her out the door, charming all the curious onlookers with his smile along the way.