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  Deviation: A Short Story

  DEVIATION

  By A. Deen

  Copyright © 2017 Anela Deen

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Fine Fables Press 2017

  Minneapolis, MN

  Cover art by High Impact Covers

  HighImpactCovers.com

  AmidTheImaginary.WordPress.com

  Indra Patel sat in her car across the street from her husband’s office, bit into a granola bar, and contemplated whether she truly believed her husband was cheating on her or if she was going through some sort of early mid-life crisis. What sane thirty-three-year-old woman actually took a half day off from work to stake out her spouse? A desperate one, surely. Or was it a paranoid one? Maybe the two overlapped in a kind of chemical combustion that turned a straight-laced administrative assistant into a stalker.

  She sighed heavily and tossed her granola bar aside as she stared at the building where David worked as a human resources rep for a small law firm. Earlier she’d watched him stroll out the doors, grab lunch from the sandwich shop next door and return without so much as look at his cell phone. No mystery woman beside him. No suspicious phone calls where he smiled too enthusiastically. The only personal call she’d seen him make had been to her. She hadn’t answered, fearful her voice in the car would sound odd and draw questions. His voicemail had been a quick, “Just checking in. Hope your day is going well.”

  Like any good husband would do during the day, never knowing his wife had gone completely round the bend.

  Indra glanced at the empty wrappers and water bottles littering her passenger seat, evidence of the day’s lunacy, then thunked her head against the steering wheel. This was Mildred’s fault. Her fifty-something-year-old colleague prattled often and endlessly of her relationship implosions.

  “They cheat, honey. They always cheat, even the nice ones. It’s in their DNA,” she’d say while gnawing on her peppermint gum. “Don’t take it personally. Just get your evidence and get your alimony.”

  Yet more reason to continue begging off those invitations her co-workers extended to lunch or a drink after work. Even if she and her husband had moved to Oregon only a month ago, she had no real obligation to form connections with the other admins. She didn’t like the job anyway and no one ever seemed interested in her ideas to increase efficiency and productivity. It filled her days with monotony but it also paid the bills. It didn’t have to be her social life. Surely there were better friends to find somewhere in this town. She could join a choir or a women’s sports league.

  And she should really just talk to David.

  Maybe that was the problem. They didn’t talk anymore. She couldn’t even recall when they’d last been romantic with each other. Certainly not since the move. Perhaps worst of all, Indra hadn’t noticed any of it until Mildred began reciting the signs of cheating to one of the other assistants in the office a few days ago.

  “Does he come home late from work?

  Does he disappear outside, to the garden, on a run?

  Does he keep his phone on hand at all times?

  Does he leave the room when a call comes in?”

  The panic those questions ignited in Indra’s chest had sent her running to the ladies’ room to collect herself lest she hyperventilate in front of the entire office. Now here she sat, like some demented sleuth with a large purse full of snacks, a notepad and a far too expensive long-distance camera she’d foolishly invested into this venture.

  She heaved another deep sigh, finally allowing the question she’d been trying to answer to float to the surface. Did she really care if her marriage ended, or did she do all this because the idea that David would betray her with a twenty-something, size four bombshell rankle her past all coherent thought? She snorted. As if the man could draw such a specimen. He had ten years on Indra and possessed neither looks nor charisma. She frowned at that thought. Could it be she didn’t even find him attractive? That couldn’t be right. She tried to think back to when they’d met and how she’d felt but the memory was blurry. The harder she focused on it, the fuzzier it became and a low throb started at her temples.

  Her phone buzzed with an incoming text and she turned her attention to it. Immediately the throbbing ceased. Rubbing her temple with one hand pulled up the text. It was from David.

  Working late tonight. Won’t be home for dinner. Don’t wait up.

  Indra’s fingers clamped around the phone hard enough to make the casing creak. Exactly what kept an HR at work late enough that she’d be in bed by the time he came home? He’d done this in the past but she’d thought nothing of it then. Now it seemed so obvious something was off. Movement across the street caught her eye. David strolled out the doors and headed to the office parking lot on the side street. She checked the time. Five o’clock. Working late, eh?

  Muttering curses, she sent back a simple, “Sounds good” and started the car, watching as he gunned the engine of his two-door sedan and departed with an eager tire squeal. Her hands wringing the steering wheel, Indra forced herself to wait several seconds before pulling onto the road behind.

  Keeping several cars between them, she followed. As he drove out of Portland she dropped farther back to ensure he didn’t spot her. Were the hotels in town not suitable for his sweetie? Or was he going to her place so the charge wouldn’t show on his credit card? Not that Indra ever checked such things. David handled the money in the house. And the bills. And doled out the extra cash if she wanted to go to a movie or the shops.

  She gritted her teeth. When had she become the type of woman who allowed a man to control her finances like that? It had annoyed her for quite a while but she never said a word. Had she always been so inhibited? She glanced down at herself, at the drab cream colored shirt buttoned up to the neck, the tan skirt that fell past her knees, and the plain flats. Nothing unusual, yet it looked different somehow. She hated her clothes, she realized. They looked terrible against her warm, golden skin. She hated the way she always wore her long, black hair braided and coiled into a tight bun at the base of her skull. Had she always dressed like this? She tried to recall if her style changed since the move but that ache in her head returned, heavy and insistent until she released the thought in favor of watching the road.

  One step at a time, she told herself. First, find out why David blatantly lied to her about working late, confront him about it, and if it turned out for the worst, then…Then what? Her hands tightened on the wheel and she pushed down the surge of fear. Then she’d figure it out, that’s what.

  Two hours later and Indra’s confidence dissolved into sinking dread. Surely this was too far for a simple tryst. But if not that, then what? Night had fallen, starless and rainy. She’d recognized the area when they’d crossed the Willamette River, but after that, it became one long stretch of farmland after farmland, devoid of city lights but for the occasional glow from a house in the middle of a black expanse.

  To make matters worse, theirs were the only cars on the road and Indra had to turn off her headlights to avoid detection. Just what any super spy wannabe would do, right? She should turn around and go home before she killed herself driving in the dark with only David’s distant taillights to guide her. She would still confront him when he returned and demand an explanation though. She would not, as she
’d done before, just ignore the things that didn’t add up—Like why they hadn’t brought any photo albums with them in the move. Or why all the furniture for the house had to be bought new. Or why her life felt like a prison she couldn’t break out of, why her dreams were of a woman who looked like her but moved and spoke with assurance and authority Indra didn’t possess when she awoke.

  Yes, she needed answers to these questions more than she needed to know where David headed tonight.

  As she lifted her foot from the gas pedal and reached for her headlights, David’s taillights turned off the highway. Her hand froze, and then returned to the steering wheel as she stepped on the accelerator to catch up. At this point, she might as well get to the bottom of this mysterious rendezvous.

  Indra had to slow down to find the frontage road David had taken. It turned out to be more of a dirt road, muddy from the rain and sculpted with enough moon-sized potholes she felt certain her teeth would rattle out of her head by the end of it. At last, she spotted David’s car parked ahead, its headlights pointed at a large, ramshackle barn. She stared at it. Not exactly a romantic spot. She didn’t see any other cars either.

  Indra stopped some distance back and squinted at the place through her rain-speckled windshield. Surrounded by fir trees, it was certainly a secluded area and that barn had all the earmarks of an abandoned claim, right down to the sagging roof and rotted wood siding. She crept forward a bit more. David’s car appeared empty. He’d forgotten to turn his lights off. Again. How many car batteries did the man have to burn through before he remembered to switch them off before stepping out? Indra pursed her lips. Not really the important issue right now, was it?

  She parked her car off to the side and silently shut the door behind her when she exited. The rain still fell in small, hard pellets that stung her cheeks and eyes as she made her way toward the barn. She nearly lost her footing twice and muddy water flooded her shoes, washing grit between her toes. What a fantastic Friday night this had become. And yet, some part of her found it exhilarating to be so wildly out of routine. Even soaked through and miserable, her blood sang with the freedom of it. She huffed out an incredulous breath, shaking her head at herself. Maybe therapy would be a more pragmatic after-work activity than choir.

  Under the assumption that whomever David met with in there would keep an eye on the front door, Indra went around the other side, looking for another way in. Her search rewarded her with a second door—if that slab of wood attached by a lone rusted hinge still counted as a door. It hung at a precarious angle across the threshold, leaving a slim triangle of space toward the bottom for Indra to squeeze through. She hesitated, not relishing the idea of crawling around on her knees in the questionable slop coating the ground. Was this really worth all the effort? Raised voices within caught her ear and she stepped closer.

  “This…last time…way out here.”

  David. That was definitely his voice, pitchy with agitation but she couldn’t make out all the words. Closing her eyes for a brief moment and sending up a prayer that she wouldn’t need a tetanus shot in the morning, she sank into the cold, rain-drenched dirt and peered through the gap. What may have once been bales of hay sat in a molding heap directly in front of her entrance and she couldn’t see anything more than the dim glow of flashlights beyond them. Nope, wouldn’t be catching a break on this escapade. She’d have to crawl in there if she wanted answers.

  Threading her body into the open space, she angled one shoulder through at a time, army crawling her way in. Her ears popped as she entered, the way they would when one coasted down a steep hill and the air pressure changed. Odd. She worked her jaw to diffuse the sensation and then returned to pulling herself inside.

  Her hip caught on the edge of the door before she could successfully navigate it through, wood snagging on the polyester skirt. She wriggled her hips left and right to pull it free but the jagged slivers held on tight. With a silent curse, she grabbed the hem, straining to rip it loose. The fabric tore with a suddenness that sent her rolling into the stack of soggy hay, prompting a small cascade to tumble down on her head. The stench of wet decay and rodent droppings choked her and she clawed the stuff away from her face and neck, pinching her lips against a groan and repressing a full body shudder.

  The clear sound of conversation pulled her attention away from her disgust. Flicking her hands free of the gunk, she got her knees under her to peer around the wall of sludge. There stood David in his work khakis and gray flannel holding up an electric lantern and a scowl aimed at—she edged a bit farther out for a better look and blinked—another man? That was…unexpected. The other man had white hair but a young face with small, pointed features. He wore a trench coat that looked more like a cloak and fell to his ankles, outlining his tall, willowy build with limbs that seemed unnaturally long. His odd face held an expression somewhere between irritation and indulgence.

  “I don’t expect it to take much longer,” White Hair said. “Negotiations are almost concluded.”

  Negotiations? Dear heaven, David wasn’t caught up in something illegal, was he? She glanced around her and nearly smacked a hand against her brow before she remembered it was covered with filth. Of course it was illegal. No one met in abandoned barns in the middle of nowhere to discuss legitimate business.

  “They’d better be,” David snapped. “I’m sick of this time. And I’m sick of babysitting. A month, Mallory. An entire month stuck here with her.”

  “The admiral is vital to the Quorum. In a thousand timelines, they’d never find another as masterful as she is with the four dimensional fabric. They’ll bend to your demands. Eventually.” He shrugged at David’s deepening scowl. “We’ve taken steps to ensure neither of you can be found in the meantime.”

  “The longer this drags on the less you can guarantee that. Make no mistake, it’s the only reason I came to you people for help. I’m not a believer in your doctrine. In fact, I should be the one to negotiate with the Quorum, not you.”

  “After you betrayed them? Don’t be foolish. Trust in our resources, if nothing else, and be patient. Time is endless after all.” White hair—or Mallory as David called him—gave an ugly smirk. “Surely you can find ways to wile away your time here with the admiral, particularly given your cover. She is a beautiful woman.”

  “You think I’m interested in sleeping with my sister’s killer?”

  Still trying to parse through what they were talking about, Indra’s brow crinkled at this. Sister? David told her he was an only child and his parents were dead. He’d lied her. Monumentally. What else had he lied about? The unsettling thought sent a shiver through her.

  Mallory swept his flashlight across the dirt-packed ground, lighting on puddles gathering beneath gaps in the ceiling. “There are less gentle means if that’s your preference.”

  David’s lip curled. “Even if I didn’t find that sort of thing revolting, Ree would make it his mission in life to flay the skin from my body if he found out.”

  “Then you’re wiser than you look, traitor,” a third voice said.

  Both men whirled toward the front door where another man had appeared. Indra gaped at the newcomer feeling like she’d stumbled upon a theater piece right when the mysterious stranger showed up and the music took an ominous turn. How had he entered through that door without making a sound or being noticed?

  Draped in a cloak similar to Mallory’s, Indra couldn’t make out his features beneath the hood drawn around his face. Unlike Mallory, there was nothing slender about the body beneath it. Wide shoulders. Muscled legs set apart. His posture held a calm that belied the ferocity she sensed simmering beneath the surface.

  With Mallory’s back to her, she couldn’t see his expression but the sneer in his tone didn’t need interpretation. “Ree. I’m surprised to see you here. Found a way to follow me, did you? Impressive, yet the Quorum promised they’d send no Wardens after us while negotiations continued. Did you decide to take matters into your own hands?” Slowly he set h
is flashlight on the ground, the beam of light pointed toward the broken roof, raindrops glinting in its anemic light. “One might call you a traitor for disobeying their orders.”

  The hood tilted toward Mallory. “I’m not here as a Warden.”

  That low tenor and warm Spanish accent strummed a chord of recognition in her. Did she know him? She searched her memories. A headache flared to life behind her eyes and she stifled a gasp.

  “What then? You’ve gone rogue?” David said, a nervous hint invading his incredulous tone. “By-the-book, unflappable, immovable Ree has gone rogue? What did the admiral do to earn such loyalty, I wonder.” A salacious note entered his voice that Indra didn’t like.

  It seemed Ree didn’t like it either. One gloved hand clenched. “Where is she, David? Tell me now and I won’t cut you down.”

  “You’ll just drag me back to spend the rest of my life in one of your temporal prisons? Is that my alternative?”

  It didn’t escape Indra’s notice that David and his companion had quietly begun moving to either side of Ree. Flanking. The word rose up from some deep recess in her mind and the headache pulsed hard enough to make her grip her head.

  “No. I’ll send you home,” Ree said quietly.

  David froze. “To my own time? From the moment I left?”

  “Yes.”

  David seemed to consider that until Mallory asked, “And his sister?” in the cheerful tone of one who already knew the answer.

  Ree’s chin dipped. “There’s nothing I can do for her. That timeline can’t be changed.”

  “It can.” Grief tore David’s voice. “If the Quorum wants their admiral back, they’ll do it.”

  “It would damage too many other threads. They won’t, no matter what your negotiations say. Why do you think I’m here, David?” Ree extended a hand toward him, palm up. “Don’t listen to these anarchists,” he said, flipping his other hand in Mallory’s direction. “They only want to see chaos, to see time fractured and looped, destroying the lives of billions. Your sister wouldn’t want that for her sake.”