John Locke - Saving Rachel

The mikes go on, and I can hear them suffocating. It’s excruciating. I ask myself if it’s possible they’re in on it, that they’re faking. Rachel, the woman I loved more than any other, is lying on her side, her back to me. If she’s faking, she’s not even trying to let me see the effect the treatment is having on her. Karen is on her back, in a reclining posture, her torso propped up on her elbows. She’s looking at me in horror, as if she’s just met a demon in an alley. She’s probably wondering what sort of monster would allow this to happen to her. She’s no longer saying my name. She’s gasping for breath. It appears to be a major effort for her to get even a half breath. She still looks beautiful, but she’s aged five years in the last two minutes. Karen’s head hits the floor, and I can’t bear it any longer. “Okay, okay,” I say. “I believe you. I’ll enter the codes. Please stop.” The voice says, “Sam, you don’t have time to enter all the codes. Enter one and I’ll stop the process.”

I enter the code of a man who is almost certainly a terrorist and hope they don’t have a way to access his money. Nothing’s worse than an angry terrorist.

“We need the name, Sam.”

How did they know what I typed? They must have a keystroke link set up that bypasses the Internet. Is that possible? Or maybe they’ve written some code to block me from accessing the Internet. “The name, Sam. Your ladies are near death.” I look at the cages. He’s right. There’s not much movement to see and no sounds left to hear. I type in the name of the terrorist and instantly hear the vacuum pump stop.

There’s a slight pause. Maybe they’re checking the name against some sort of list. I don’t give a shit about the codes anymore. I’m staring into the girls’ cages, praying they’re okay.

The voice finally says, “Thank you, Sam. That’s a good start. We’re pleased. In fact, we’re so pleased we’re going to give you another chance to save one of the women.” “What are you talking about? I gave you the code.” “We’re past that, Sam. It’s time to choose.” My heart hammers in my chest. If I hadn’t been sitting, I would have certainly fallen to the floor.

“N … No!” I stammer. “Look, I’ll give you the codes … and the names. I’ll give you the codes and the names. I’ll even help you rob them. I’ll do whatever. But please. You have to let them go. It’s not their fault. They’ve done nothing to you, nothing wrong. Please. I’m into it now. It’s over. I’ll do whatever you say. Let them go.”

“Sam, your eloquence is touching, if tedious. Tell you what, we’ll pump a little air into their containers each time you give us a code.”

I enter the codes and names as quickly as possible and then turn my attention to the girls. They’re still lying on the floors of their containers. I can’t detect any movement or hear any sounds of breathing.

“Are they okay?”

“They’re lucky,” the voice says. “Another minute, they might have suffered brain damage.”

A half minute passes before Karen starts moving. A few seconds later, Rachel screams. Over the next few minutes, both girls vomit. Now they’re crying. Their actions and responses are practically mirror images of each other. Finally, I hear Karen speak.

“Sam … are you okay?”

I want to shrivel up and slink away. This incredible goddess—the one I tricked into sleeping with me, the one I betrayed, the one who nearly died just now because of my greed—is actually worried about me. Rachel, on the other hand, has grown mute. She’s sitting in the corner of her cell, arms hugging her knees. Her face is pale. She appears on the brink of throwing up again.

“Your women appear to be fully recovered,” the voice says. “I’ll give them a few minutes to compose their thoughts.”

“W … What are you talking about?” I say.

“Time to choose, Sam. We’re going to give them a chance to plead for their lives. You get to play God today; you’ll hear what they have to say, and then you’ll decide which one gets to live.”

Both women scream in protest, though each scream is unique. As they continue to beg our prison master to reconsider, I feel the bands around my chest tighten, as if I’m being constricted by a giant python. I look at my two women and can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it’s come to this. My heart feels too large for my chest. I’ve reached my limit. I can’t allow this to happen. There must be something I can do or say to stop the madness.

“Kill me instead,” I say.

Both girls stop begging. There is complete silence as the voice seems to consider my request. Moments pass, moments that allow me to wonder if this is the end for me. As one of the most selfish people in the world, I’ve just shocked myself by offering to exchange my life for theirs. It’s the right thing to do, but I haven’t exactly made a life out of doing the right thing.

But I’m serious. I would rather die than have to sentence a loved one to death. The voice comes back in all three containers.

“Sorry, Sam. We like it better the other way. Girls, take a few minutes to compose your thoughts. We’ll flip a coin to see who goes first. You’ll each have one minute to convince Sam why he should choose you instead of the other one.”

Chapter 25

The prison master turns off the girls’ microphones. They take a moment to look at each other. While they do that, I try to imagine what must be going through their minds.

Until recently, Rachel thought she was married to a loyal, hardworking, successful man. True, the last six months or so, she’d grown distant, but things never got so bad that we felt the need to talk about it. In other words, we weren’t ready for a marriage counselor. By and large, her life was stable, predictable, and reasonably content. But this last day or so has found Rachel going through a rough patch. In this short time frame, she’s been kidnapped, slapped around, threatened, and forced to strip. She’s learned her husband has been cheating on her and had to meet the “other” woman. She’s been suffocated nearly to death, and now she’s being forced to beg me to spare her life—me, the guy who caused all these terrible things to happen to her.

Thank God she hasn’t yet learned that her only sister has been murdered.

Again, my fault.

Nor has the last day or so been a picnic for Karen Vogel. This singular beauty fell in love with a man she thought was loyal, wealthy, and single. She trusted me, slept with me, and found a dead man in her trunk. She’s been kidnapped and threatened and discovered she’s been dating a married man. She’s been forced to meet my wife, has been nearly killed, and now finds herself in the position of having to beg me to spare her life—me, the guy who caused all these terrible things to happen to her.

Rachel turns away first. She goes to her cooler, takes out a bottle of water, and drinks it greedily. That must seem like a good idea to Karen, because she does the same. Rachel glares at me a few seconds before going back to the spot she seems to prefer, with her back touching the far wall. She still has on the suit she’d worn to work, a lightweight black Italian tweed with a shawl-collared jacket. The matching skirt would have stopped about two inches above the knee had she been standing. But she slides down the wall now and assumes her former posture of hugging her knees close to her chest. This is not a time for modesty, nor is it appropriate for me to notice, but she is inadvertently flashing her panties. Maybe I’m noticing because of the photograph I’d seen this morning—or yesterday, or whenever it was. They’d used a body double with black panties and the white bra with Karen’s initials. In light of all that’s transpired since that moment, I have to wonder why they went to so much trouble. What was the point of the photograph? I’ll probably never know.

At any rate, Rachel is not wearing black panties today. They’re tan, like the ankle-wrapped sandals she’d removed earlier to bang against the wall when trying to get my attention.

Karen is pacing the floor. She keeps glancing at me, giving me hopeful looks. She’s scared, but there’s hope in her eyes. She knows she has the advantage. She’s younger, prettier, nicer, and has no baggage. I look at Rachel again. Her eyes are shut tight, and she’s rocking a bit and appears to be moaning. I wonder if she’s wishing she hadn’t been so distant these last few months. I don’t like the position I’m in, can’t stand the thought of having to choose one of these women to die, but somewhere inside of me—God help me!—there’s a tiny voice that wonders if Rachel might be rethinking the way she’s treated me since being in the cubicle. It couldn’t possibly escape her notice that while she was cursing and bitching and begging our captors to set her free, Karen was saying she loved me. Indeed, the first words out of Karen’s mouth when regaining consciousness were to ask me if I was okay. I’m not proud to admit to that tiny voice inside me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that some part of me is actually looking forward to hearing what Rachel might say to me. Will she beg for her life? Of course she will. Will she mean it? That’s the billion-dollar question, isn’t it?

I watch Karen gather the blanket around her. She’s using it to shield herself as she pees. Rachel notices her too. She sneers and shakes her head in disgust, and I have a strong feeling these two could share a foxhole for the duration and never be friends.

The voice interrupts my thoughts.

“We tossed a coin. Rachel, you get to go first. Remember, you have one minute to make your case. Sam, pay attention.”

Chapter 26

Rachel stands and crosses the floor in her bare feet. She places her hands on the Lucite wall. She’s standing as close to me as she can, and she gives me a sort of half smile and says, “Sam, I don’t know quite what to say. We’ve been together all these years, and I’ve always tried to be there for you. If someone had told me a week ago that you had the power to decide my fate, I wouldn’t have worried for one second, because I thought you loved me as much as I’ve always loved you.

“Now, I’m not so sure. I look at the cell across from me and I see a woman who’s younger than me, prettier than me, a woman who says she loves you. And worse, a little while ago, I heard you say that you loved her.

“I can’t tell you how badly my heart hurts right now. Try to put yourself in my position. All I’ve done to be here is to love you. A part of me understands why you cheated. I know I haven’t been the most attentive wife in the world, but you know I’ve always been faithful to you and I’ve never stopped loving you. And, Sam, I love you still.

“I’m not going to lie. If you choose to let me live, we’re going to have some stressful times. I can’t promise we’ll make it. But I promise I’ll try.

“Baby, I know at one time you loved me with all your heart. If there’s still a spark inside you that wants me, I’d like the chance to live. I won’t beg you, but I’d like to think my husband feels I’m worth saving. If you feel differently, I hope you know that I have always loved you and always will.”

She removes her wedding ring, kisses it, puts it back on her finger, presses her lips together, and nods. When she nods, I see tears spill from her eyes. She moves back to her spot against the far wall but remains standing.

The voice says, “Karen, Rachel took twelve extra seconds. You can have the same.”

Karen is wearing white thresher-cut jeans that have a pale blue tie-dye pattern running through them. She has on a matching blue tube top and blue strappy sandals with stiletto heels. Like Rachel, Karen moves to the closest point of her cubicle so she can look into my eyes. She says, “Sam, I hate them for putting you in this position. I’m not happy you didn’t tell me about being married, but I love you. I love you, Sam, and I’m sure you didn’t consider yourself married in your heart when you were with me. I never would have gone out with you if you’d told me, and that’s probably why you decided not to. But we did go out, and I fell in love with you, and that hasn’t changed.

“I don’t want your wife to die, I swear to God I don’t. But if it has to be one of us, wouldn’t it be better to choose the one that represents your future instead of your past? She’s had her chance. If she’d treated you the way you deserve, you never would have strayed in the first place.

“I don’t want her to die, Sam. I do not want her to die. But I don’t want to die either. You and I still have a chance to build a life together. I don’t know if your wife wants children or not, but you told me that you do. And I do too, but not until you’re ready. Because until you’re ready for children, you’ve got every inch of this …”

She quickly begins removing her clothes and doesn’t stop until she is completely naked, save for the stiletto sandals. Then she says, “Sam, this is yours. It’s yours whenever you want it. I swear to God I will make you the happiest man who ever lived. Please choose me. Please, Sam, I’m begging you, begging you to spare my life—so I can give it to you.”

Karen stood at the glass, legs shoulder-length apart, arms out to either side, like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, except that Karen looks a million times hotter than the guy in the drawing.

The voice says, “Sam, you’ve got a tough decision to make. But it’s time.”

I say, “You can’t expect me to do this. It’s inhuman.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t look at it like you’re causing a death. Because what you’re really doing is saving a life. Unfortunately, if you don’t make a choice between your wife and mistress in the next ten seconds, we’re going to kill them both. Shall I begin the countdown?”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out completely, along with my soul.

“Not necessary,” I say. “I’ve made my decision.”

Chapter 27

I look at Karen. Though she’s been through a lot, I doubt she’s ever looked so beautiful.

“Karen,” I say, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Her face falls. She starts crying. Loudly at first, but then she nods her head, resigning herself to her fate. She cries softly another minute and then realizes she’s still naked. She steps awkwardly into her panties, keeping her left hand on the wall to steady herself. She nearly trips trying to get her jeans on and then gives up, sits on the floor, and removes her sandals.

When she’s finally dressed, the voice says, “Karen, you’ve been a good sport. If it’s any consolation, we would have chosen you.”

Karen shrugs and says, “You still can, you know.”

The voice says, “Is there anything you wish to say to Sam before we start the vacuum pump?”

She looks at me and sighs. “I guess this proves you never would have left your wife for me. If you care, I think you made the wrong decision.”

“I’m sorry, Karen,” I say. “So, so sorry. I wish to God there was something I could do.”