A quick note: My condolences go out to anyone affected by the recent events. This story will continue to have some violent and chaotic themes, so it is understandable if anyone needs to step away from it for a bit.
Big thanks for all the kind words of feedback. I'm thinking that this story will have about 30 chapters, but we'll see.
Present Day
"Why are we sitting in the garage? This is very boring."
"I wanted to spend time with you. I haven't spent much time with you over the years, have I?"
He looked at her and tilted his head. "But why are we sitting in the garage?"
"It's nice and dark," she replied, tilting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. "I just thought we could chat for a bit." She breathed in deeply, a headache beginning to form in the front of her skull. The exhaust pipe was stuffed with a small embroidered hand towel, a wedding present from the Bakers. Or was it from the Ortegas? She couldn't remember. Neither spoke to her anymore.
"You said we would go on a drive."
"What's your favorite subject, Erik?"
"You know that, Mom."
"Tell me again. I don't remember."
"It is science."
"What sort of science?"
"All science. Animals and weather and electricity and the body and outer space and…." He looked toward the passenger window with wide yellow eyes. "I don't want to be in here anymore! I want to go on a drive like you said. I don't feel well in here."
"We'll go on the longest drive ever in just a bit," she murmured. Nausea set in as her headache worsened, and she swallowed to force the sensation away. "It'll be a beautiful drive. With gold streets and purple clouds. And your face will be all better. Can you imagine that?"
He blinked. "My face will be better? Did you find a new doctor?"
"Yes. Very soon. You'll wake up, and it'll be all better."
He put two fingers to the bandages on his cheek and hesitated. "Mom, I really want to go back inside now," he whispered.
"Shh, baby. We'll leave in a little while. And then your daddy will be so happy. Don't you want to make Daddy happy?"
"But—"
She continued to breathe in deeply. "Erik, I'm sorry I haven't been very nice to you. You were always so complicated. But now it'll be okay. We'll go somewhere where everyone is nice to us." Ignoring her, he managed to pull up the locking device and open the door. She quickly clicked the lock back into place from her side. "Erik, you won't be happy out there. Everyone hates both of us. I tried to fix you, but no one would let me. Mommy tried, baby."
"I want to get out now!" he cried. "I don't want to be here! I don't feel well!" A tear trickled down his twisted mess of a face, and a soft sob came emerged from his twisted lips. "Please!"
"Erik, stay here with Mommy."
"No!" He pulled the lock up again and pushed the door open with his scrawny arms, scrambling out. She didn't have the strength to reach out and grab him. Erik stumbled toward the entrance of the house with his hands stretched out in front of him.
"Erik! Fine, Erik!" She hoarsely screamed with her last bit of strength. "Go! But you'd better not tell anyone where Mommy is. I'll kill you if you do! I want to be left alone. I don't want to deal with you anymore. I hate you! So go and leave me alone, you hideous little brat!" She paused as the world began to spin and darken. "Oh. Oh, Erik. Erik, I'm so tired of it all."
He glanced back at her from the door, and their eyes locked together for one final moment. Her only child then ran inside, shutting the door behind him. For a second she was afraid he would tell, but the minutes ticked by and no one ever came.
Lena rested her head back against the seat and remembered being on the diving team in high school, that moment on the edge of the board before you sprang up into the air. She stared over the vast blue water, ready to launch toward the rippling mass in perfect form.
She jumped as the beautiful blue became a comforting blackness.
And she flew.
2038
Anticipation ruined most of her sleep that night.
Tomorrow, he'd said. Tomorrow finally became today, at least according to her internal clock, and Christine jumped out of bed and ran to the door, still wearing her nightgown. Thankfully, he was sitting at the piano, flipping through the pages of a songbook. She approached him with resolve, holding her head high and arms straight at her sides.
"Good morning, my beauty," he greeted with none of the hostility of the previous night.
"Good morning, Erik."
"Do you want breakfast?"
"Not right now."
"Do you want to begin your lessons then?"
She took a deep breath. "Erik, you said tomorrow."
"Pardon me?"
"You said we would talk about me getting to go out."
"I did, didn't I?" He paused. "Yet your eagerness makes me question my plans."
"Erik, all I want is fresh air. That's all I'm eager for."
"I can assure you that the air here is better for you than that polluted mess outside."
She suppressed a cry of frustration. If he didn't grant her this wish, she really was going to lose her mind. "Please."
He sighed and looked her in the eye. "Assuming you prove yourself trustworthy, you will be singing in one week. For the community—a sort of welcoming ceremony."
Her heart jumped. "That sounds wonderful."
"As I said, you must prove yourself trustworthy." Christine nodded, knowing that she would have to at least pretend to be a completely 'good girl.' "We will focus on your voice for the rest of the week," he continued.
She nodded again, nervous that any quiver in her speech might give away her true thoughts. Still, it was very difficult to concentrate on her lessons that day as Christine wondered what she would do when her moment of freedom arrived. Try to run? Try to warn everyone? Both sounded dangerous, but she couldn't just do nothing, right? Her stomach gurgled with nervous anticipation; she hoped the 'Spirit' didn't have magical hearing.
During her break, she played pop music from the 1980's in the closet, a fast tune with a fun beat. Vaguely, she remembered her mother playing the song at times, usually when she was doing aerobic exercises. Come here, sweetheart. Dance with Mommy. Her dad had shaken his head and laughed as they danced around, a broad smile on his face. Christine never saw that same smile after her mother had passed on.
And now she danced around for the first time since before the community, sinfully lifting her legs, waving her arms and swerving her hips. It probably looked utterly ridiculous, but she suddenly had a ton of energy to expend. There was something liberating about dancing—as though she were finally escaping the life she'd led of restricted movement, thought, and speech. And, soon, maybe she would be completely free.
Knowing how much was at stake, she sang her absolute best for Erik that evening, and he said, "You will completely amaze all of them at the ceremony. There is no doubt of it."
"I'll do my best."
"You are their beacon. Their light. Even Cameron believes this now."
She looked toward the carpet. "I'm not sure I'm exactly the role model of what Cameron wants. You've seen to that…." She wasn't sure whether that was a 'thank you' or an accusation.
"It does not matter. You simply must learn to act a bit in addition to singing. And you have the talent for it. You look the part, and you will learn to play it perfectly."
Christine bit her bottom lip as she realized he wanted her to become a sort of lie. Just like the Spirit was a lie. How many lies was the community built on? These thoughts plagued her mind as she headed for bed that night with slightly renewed hope.
The next day was the same until Erik paused after their final vocal lesson. "I think we should have a preliminary outing before Cameron's event."
"What?"
"I am taking you above ground briefly. Perhaps it would be good for your health. It is nearing sunset, an ideal time." She gaped at him. "If you attempt to run, that will be it. There will be no ceremony. You will be down here for months or years."
Christine rapidly nodded, deciding to not making any decisions until she could see exactly where she was. "All I want is air. I promise, Erik."
He nodded. "Put on sturdy shoes and then follow me."
As she expected, he took her into one of the locked rooms. Nothing was in the small space except for walls of grey file cabinets along with another mysterious door. She wondered how big his home actually was, how far back it stretched. A soft beep sounded into the air, but she couldn't tell where it originated. Maybe he had a controller in his jacket pocket? Suddenly, a rectangular portion of the ceiling slid back and revealed an opening of the same shape. A metallic staircase began to unfold and descend down to the carpet. He hadn't been lying, and the complexity of it all was a little overwhelming. "Follow me," he said.
She ascended the stairs behind him, her footsteps much louder than his, and found herself to be in the middle of a dark tunnel. Walking forward without a glance in either direction, Erik pushed another button, and the silver doors of an elevator opened. The inside was lit with a dim bulb. "What is this place?" she softly asked, hugging her arms to her chest.
"It is a shelter built some time ago, able to withstand man's deadliest weapons. And it makes for a very secure home, no?"
The floor lifted beneath her feet and then stopped within seconds. The doors slid open, and she was again looking into darkness. This time, though, there was a square patch of light beneath a short metal staircase that led to an opening.
"Go up," said Erik. "You will have twenty minutes. Watch your step as you walk; I have surveyed the area, but there could still be a rusty nail here and there."
"Are you coming?" she asked, not knowing what she wanted the answer to be.
"In a moment."
She swallowed and nervously walked up the staircase, blinking in the natural light. Christine heard birds twittering and almost expected to find herself in a forest. But no. When she reached the top, she saw that it was the remains of a large, circular abandoned building. The windows were all shattered, and flowery weeds had begun to creep through the entrances and the floorboards. Decaying wooden balconies were near the ceiling, and a scrawny squirrel was perched on the ledge, watching her with its head tilted. Tattered red seats sat in the middle of the room, and Christine noticed that she was elevated over them. On a stage.
There was no sign of civilization, and she found the room eerie as she slowly climbed down a set of wooden steps and began to look around. A few yellowed pieces of papers were lying on the floor, along with fragments of wood and plaster. The building had to have been very nice at one time; she could make out gold decorations on the walls and torn ceiling.
"Be careful where you step," said Erik, startling her. She turned. He was standing in the shadows of the stage, under a tattered blue curtain, arms folded.
"What happened to it?" she asked, her voice lost in the vast space.
"It was abandoned."
"But why?"
Erik shrugged. "The nation could no longer afford extravagancies. Some could for a while; perhaps that is why my underground home was constructed. It was likely a shelter for the rich and powerful in case of an emergency. But, at some point, there was no point in keeping it open at all."
She glanced through a space where a semicircle window should have been and saw nothing but grass blowing in a gentle breeze. A heavy melancholy settled over her. "It's sad in here," she murmured. Christine stepped into the rows of seats. A flapping noise startled her, and she jumped back, hand over her heart. Several small grey birds flew past her and out one of the windows. Silence resumed, and Christine continued to look over the mess, over old statues and ornaments and even what appeared to be a woman's pair of blue heels.
"It is time to return inside," Erik finally said.
"All right." She didn't argue, hurrying back up to the stage and following him downstairs toward the elevator. The following day, she didn't ask to go back up. The ruins of the Outside were rather depressing, and that sort of setting provided no means of escape. Christine supposed she'd ask to go up again only when she became desperate for a ray of sunshine.
During her time in the closet, she found something that made her smile again. Christine pulled out the board and pieces from beneath a pile of books and brought them into the kitchen. Placing everything out on the table, she set it up within a few minutes and then ate her ham sandwich. When Erik came in, he almost seemed startled to see it.
"I used to play with my dad," she said. "I mean, I was terrible at it because I was seven. But I remember how."
"Checkers," he replied, touching one of the red pieces with the tip of his gloved finger. "It has been a long time."
"Will you?" She felt less hostile toward him now that she was allowed out, and this was another way to continue gaining his trust. Still, Christine hadn't pulled out the game with purely underhanded intentions. It was also simply another relic from her past that she remembered with fondness.
He didn't answer her directly, only sat down at the table and motioned at her to go first. Erik beat her quickly and without effort, and she awkwardly stared down at a board that only had red pieces remaining. "Did you play this a lot?" she asked.
"Several times."
"Several times." She awkwardly laughed. "Well, then."
"I prefer chess, actually. It has been a distraction throughout the years."
"I've never played that," she murmured.
"I can teach you," he replied with a touch of eagerness. "There are so many things that I can teach you."
"I'd like that." She swallowed and looked down, hoping he couldn't see any traces of deception in her face. Trying to make the guilty feelings go away, Christine distracted them both by pointing at the front cover of a textbook. "It's funny looking, isn't it?"
"It is a stegosaurus. For its time, I am sure it appeared completely normal." He sounded very annoyed, and so she tried again.
"Erik, how old is the Earth?"
"How old do you think it is?"
"I don't know." Realizing that he wasn't going to answer her, she pulled out a history book and asked, "Do you think women should be able to vote?"
He paused and then chuckled. "It depends on the meaning of your question."
"What?"
"Well, if you are implying that, because men can vote, then women should be able to do so as well, then I would agree. There are no studies that indicate one gender is superior to the other, not really. But the better question is-should anyone be able to vote?"
"I don't understand…."
"Are most people capable and intelligent enough to make their own decisions?"
She eyed him. "Do you think they are?"
"Do you?"
She sighed and rubbed her head, tired of the riddles. "Erik, do you want me to believe what Cameron teaches?"
"No." At least that was direct enough.
"But you want me to sing for him?"
"Yes."
"And I'm not supposed to be confused by this at all?" She gave him a desperate look.
"Let us concentrate on your voice for the next few days. Only think of that, and your task will seem much simpler. We will return to these more intellectual exercises after the ceremony. Do you understand?"
"I guess." But she didn't—not in the slightest.
Erik reached out to touch her hair, and she didn't flinch away. He almost seemed surprised by this, pausing before he ran his index finger over a blonde strand. "Christine…." It was more a sigh than a spoken word. Withdrawing his hand, he left her with her thoughts.
She could feel herself growing more nervous by the moment. If possible, the ceremony could be her escape. If she arrived and was surrounded on all sides by Cameron's guards, it might at least be another chance to gain Erik's trust until a true opportunity presented itself.
Still, with each passing day in that underground home, Christine felt that she was falling deeper and deeper into something that was far bigger than herself. And she feared that there would eventually be no turning back.
The day arrived faster than she thought it would, maybe faster than she hoped it would. Before Erik had stated she would be singing at the ceremony, Christine had an idealized vision of how her escape would take place. Maybe she would sprint away and climb a tree so that no one could see her. And she would laugh at them from above as they searched for her. Juvenile fantasies like this had been her only lifeline. Now that it was actually happening, though, she still had no real plan.
Erik had her concentrate on her voice more than academics that week, and so she stayed wrapped in music, either singing or listening to him play the piano. He took her aboveground two more times, and she explored the dead theater, picking up old programs for shows and looking them over. While the words and pictures were very faded, she could tell that they had once been colorful and vibrant, from a time when the world wasn't covered in shadows.
The evening before the big event, Erik said, "You will wear the blue dress on the right side of your closet. It was meant for such an occasion."
"You mean I shouldn't wear the pants?" she softly joked.
"Only if you would like to see Mr. Lourdes turn a fiery shade of red."
"Maybe I would." That wasn't a joke, and Christine hoped she hadn't crossed the line. She still didn't quite understand the relationship between Erik and Cameron.
But Erik only chuckled. "Perhaps someday."
She easily located the dress the afternoon of her performance, finding the shiny blue material flashier than anything she usually saw in the community. There were also matching flat shoes and a bright blue ribbon for her hair. Her reflection was pale but otherwise healthy; Erik certainly saw that she was well-fed. More than anything, her eyes were somehow wiser, less clouded with fantasies.
When she emerged, Erik looked her up and down. "Yes. Perfect. Tasteful yet alluring. Cameron may not completely approve, but he certainly will not regret the results."
She shifted at the strange compliment. "Thank you?"
He didn't notice her nervousness, gathering several folders and a brown paper bag into his arms. "We have a two hours' journey ahead of us. Cameron will likely meet with us beforehand, and you will need to play your part."
"My part?"
"Simply be quiet and compliant. None of those interesting questions of yours, as much as I enjoy them. I doubt Cameron likes curious women."
"Probably not." Christine wondered if she should bring any clothing or toiletries, but Erik might grow suspicious. Outside of one clothing change and a hairbrush, she brought nothing else.
When they had climbed the first set of stairs, she started to walk toward their normal elevator. "This way," Erik said with a nod of his head to the left. He turned on a flashlight. "It will take about ten minutes."
She turned to follow and stumbled in the darkness, lightly touching his black jacket to steady herself. He paused in his steps and allowed her to adjust. They continued down the metal pathway, and Christine could see very little throughout the journey, just the occasional pole or some wiring sticking out of the ceiling. Sometimes there was rumbling from above. Erik finally stopped and pushed a button. An elevator door open, and they stepped inside. "How many different elevators are there?" she asked.
"Three."
"Where does the third go?"
He glanced at her but didn't answer. She knew better than to ask again.
The elevator rumbled upwards, and the door opened. As before, she went up a short flight of stairs, although this time they led to a slanted green door. Erik took a gold key from his pocked and unlocked it, and she was suddenly faced with a dirty alleyway. Broken glass bottles and brown puddles covered the cracked asphalt. She could hear the beat of a radio in the distance along with occasional muffled voices.
"Stay close," Erik said, locking the door. "This part of the city is less savory, although far from the worst of it."
She nodded as they headed for the street, surprisingly finding safety in the shadow of her captor as she gazed over the urban decay. Suddenly, Christine noticed a long, black car with heavily tinted windows waiting along the curbside. Erik walked toward it and opened the door. She took one last glance around, her gaze falling on a man watching her with glazed eyes, his jeans and white shirt dirty and torn. "Get in," murmured Erik.
Christine quickly climbed into the interior and settled into the plush grey seat, heart beating quickly. Piano music was playing on the speakers, and the air conditioning was softly blowing over them, a comforting contrast with the world outside. The driver, a baldheaded man with beady eyes and glasses, glanced back at them. She nervously recognized him from the community, usually working right at Cameron's side. "Are you ready?" the man asked, his voice nasally.
"Drive," said Erik with a wave of his hand. Whoever the man was, Erik clearly wasn't intimidated.
She folded her hands in her lap and stared out the window. Christine considered making conversation about something interesting she'd read in a textbook but thought better of it. The man might tell Cameron about her learning and then…well, would Erik be in trouble? Or just her? She was still confused about how all of it worked, but her silence was clearly the better option. And so she merely watched as the city turned into abandoned towns and then that morphed into rural land. Eventually, she could sense they were nearing her old home, and she cast a nervous glance toward Erik. He was staring out his own window, the fingers of his left hand tapping impatiently against the seat.
Finally, she recognized the gates to the community and Cameron's looming residence. While still intimidating, the structure seemed smaller now that she knew no Spirit ruled over everything. To her surprise, they didn't stop right inside the gate. Instead, the car turned sharply into a dark garage attached to Cameron's compound; she hadn't known of its existence. The door slid shut, and she couldn't see anything through the window except the outlines of irregular shapes. Finally, the vehicle stopped, and the driver got out to open her door. "Remember what I told you," Erik said softly, eyes especially bright in the dark. "Play your part, my beauty."
Her heart was in her throat as she climbed out of the car. The driver remained there, and Erik led her to a door and then a dimly lit corridor. The lights buzzed over her head, and her footsteps echoed on linoleum tiles. Wherever they were, the bland and modern halls greatly contrasted with the parts of Cameron's home that she had seen. They walked up several flights of stairs and down several corridors, and she had to work to keep up with Erik's fast gait, though it seemed he was trying to slow down for her sake. Finally, Erik stopped at an inconspicuous white door that practically blended in with the plaster wall. He turned the white knob and stepped into a room, holding the door open for her behind him. She blinked in the sudden light and then softly gasped. They were now standing in Cameron's office.
"Go in, my dear," murmured Erik, gently pushing her forward with his hand. "You are fine." Still stunned, she stared around the plush room, only having been in it one other time. The bear rug still disturbed her as did the paintings of what appeared to be bloody battles between heaven and hell on the walls.
"Welcome, welcome." Cameron's voice startled her, and she turned toward his smiling face. It was difficult not to glare, but she forced a smile in return. "You look very divine. Although, it is not quite the dress I would have recommended…."
Erik quickly spoke. "She is a beacon after all."
Cameron hesitated and then shrugged. "It is still a fairly modest dress. No harm done." He turned back to her. "Tell me, my dear. Have you learned a great deal while with…the Spirit...Erik? Are you learning to be a godly woman?"
"Oh, yes," she whispered. "He teaches me to be a very good girl." The lie tasted bitter.
"Wonderful," said Cameron, clasping his hands together. "And are you ready to sing for us today?"
"Oh, yes."
"She is," said Erik. "She is perfection. Our current situation has only improved her voice."
Cameron continued to smile, his head bobbing up and down. "Excellent. Yes, I think today will be utterly wonderful, especially if you intend on following through with our discussion, Erik?"
"Yes."
"Very good. Very good."
She glanced between them, wondering what they were talking about but knowing that a godly woman would mind her own business. Maybe if she were lucky Erik would tell her later. If there were a later….
"I believe it is time for us to leave," said Erik. "We arrived a bit later than intended. As usual, your driver was sluggish. And my normal methods of transportation would not have suited Christine."
"Yes, Jeremy is a bit cautious, probably because he is hard of hearing. Still, he is my most loyal friend." Cameron bowed his head and murmured several words in prayer. Glancing back up, he said, "Let us go."
The three of them took a similar, although not identical, pathway back to the garage. Sometimes she would glance toward Erik, but he always had his eyes forward and his shoulders back in an intimidating posture. Cameron would stare at her and smile, making Christine all the more nervous. When they arrived at the car, she looked at Erik, expecting him to climb inside with her. Instead, he said, "It is time for me to take my leave."
"What?" she whispered, casting a nervous glance toward Cameron. He was conversing with the driver. "But I don't know what to do."
"I will be watching and listening the entire time. Cameron will lead you to the stage and direct you when to sing. If he makes irritating statements, simply nod your head in agreement. That is all you must do."
"Where will you be?"
"Taking on other tasks, my beauty. Do not think on it. Simply sing." He vanished completely from her sight within seconds.
Feeling nauseous, she climbed inside with Cameron facing her then turned her head to look out the window. The car left the dark garage and drove a couple miles through the well-kept neighborhoods, and she was shocked to see how many more new identical homes and buildings were in the process of being constructed, as well as how far back the community now stretched.
"Are you ready?" asked Cameron, smiling at her beneath his beard.
"I think so," she whispered, lowering her eyes.
"We are doing the true work of God, Christine. You, me, and Erik. There is no better time to be alive."
"Yes, Mr. Lourdes."
"Have you been content these last weeks?" he asked, studying her closely enough to make her squirm.
"Yes," she repeated.
"Good. I think it will be a superb arrangement once it is made official."
Official? "Yes. It will be."
The car stopped, and she had no more time to think about Cameron's strange statement. As they climbed out and walked forward through the green grass of an open space, community guards now surrounding them, she could hear many voices. A crowd. Her audience. An enormous stage had been set up with a microphone and a grand piano. She gaped as the mass of people came into view, clearly thousands of them. Men and women and children all in similar clothing and wearing the same expression.
"Look at them," Cameron murmured. "What a blessing."
He headed for the stage, and she was left with several guards. People were everywhere. Especially while wearing that flashy dress, she feared it would be impossible for her to escape unnoticed. As Christine continued to look around for possible breaks in the crowd, she was oblivious to what Cameron was saying. He was likely giving the same speech he always did: Everyone is doomed except the Community. Blah, blah, blah.
I wonder where Erik is?
Before she could look for him, Christine glanced up as her surroundings seemed to darken. She squinted in confusion as the early evening sky had been clear moments ago. A grey blanket of fog had now settled over them. The rest of the crowd was murmuring and also gazing upwards.
"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Cameron loudly enough to make her jump. "That is a sign from the Spirit, warning us that there will be dark days ahead, my friends. We must believe him. We must be willing to fight on even during the most perilous times."
To her horror, the ground suddenly seemed to shake beneath her-not enough to knock her off her feet, but she still grasped onto the nearest pole. Shrieks rang out from the crowd as people grabbed their family members, and parents picked up their youngest children. Yellow lights flashed above and thunder rumbled, also causing the ground to tremble. Christine squeezed her eyes shut and held on.
"Yes!" Cameron's voice rose above the noise. "The Spirit is angry, my friends. The Spirit is furious at the sin of this country, and you had better listen to him. You had better listen well! He will have his justice, and you want to be on his side when that happens." He paused. "Don't you?"
"Yes!" the audience screamed as the ground continued to tremble.
Finally, the shaking stopped. Christine opened her eyes as the sun appeared from behind the fog, brightening the scene again.
"For your see," Cameron continued. "Once justice is served—light, love, and righteousness will rule again." The sunset seemed to glow extra brightly, and the people cheered in agreement, smiling faces raised toward the heavens.
Christine felt sick to her stomach.
Erik.
Nothing but a bunch of wonderful magic tricks.
Nothing but a terrible lie.
A deep anger overcame her, heating her hands and face. This was so wrong, so unfair to all these poor people.
In her fury, she was aware of Cameron announcing her name. Christine robotically walked to the stage, staring straight forward, almost oblivious to the crowd. The piano began to play, and she began the song she had rehearsed dozens of time. Her own voice seemed distant in her ears, hollow and empty. Nothing but a lie, Erik…. Still, she sang. She sang her heart out. Except-
The last line of her song was supposed to be: "And only God's love is real!"
Instead, she sang, or rather yelled, "And the Spirit is not real!"
When the words left her mouth, she stepped backward with wide eyes, shocked at what she had just done. Breathing heavily, Christine stared down at the sea of confused faces. But before she could celebrate any sort of victory, her voice suddenly continued the song for one more line-only it wasn't really her singing. It was some kind of recording of her, and it flawlessly sang, "Unless you truly believe!"
"No," she whispered as the confused murmurs of the audience turned to cheers and applause. "No!" she yelled into the microphone. "Listen to me. It-Hiccup! Co-ack! Hiccup! Co-ack!"
Christine clamped a hand over her mouth in horror as the crowd softly chuckled. She hadn't made the embarrassing noises, but it certainly sounded like she had. It was some sort of terrifying ventriloquism. Again, she opened her mouth to protest. "Co-ack! Hiccup!" Tears ran down her cheeks, and she backed away from the front of the stage, shaking in terror.
Cameron quickly stepped up to the microphone, casting a confused glance toward her as though he wasn't quite sure what had happened. "Well, it seems our lovely singer has overused her voice, my friends. Hopefully, she will recover soon, God willing." The audience murmured in agreement, some still with amused smiles and others nodding at her in sympathy.
As salty tears continued to fall and pool at the corners of her mouth, Christine turned around and ran off the stage. She raced through the grass and toward an aimless target. She would just run and run and run—until she got to the very end of the earth.
Of course, she knew deep down that she wouldn't actually get anywhere. Of course not. A hand grabbed her upper arm as she passed through the shadows of a building. Christine gasped and tried to struggle away, but it was useless. Finally, she gave up, shoulders slumping in defeat.
And then a cold familiar voice said, "Such a shame; I had actually begun to trust you. But did you truly believe I wouldn't prepare for such a trick? Although, I am glad you were creative enough to add the line to your song. Bravo! Bravo, my intelligent beauty."
She closed her eyes as Erik roughly pulled her away.
Now she would never see daylight again.