It was a bright cheerful morning in April, a few weeks later, and Rachel DuValle was late for class.
To some this may have been of little consequence, but for a responsible adult like Rachel—with goals and ambitions far exceeding her humble upbringing—it was a calamitous event. Rachel was never late to class. She took great pride in it. In the twenty-two years she'd been alive, she'd never once been more than one minute late to any obligations. Then again, in those same twenty-two years, Rachel had never once dealt with a problem quite like this one.
"How on earth did you even manage this?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Look, just help me down, all right?" Will shot back grumpily.
Rachel sighed. "Who did you piss off?" She pulled at one rope experimentally. It was perfectly taut, not a millimeter of slack remaining. As she touched one strand it shook slightly, sending Will wobbling right along with it. He groaned from the movement as it sent him bouncing dizzily through the air.
William Carbonell, age twenty-three and the former technology guru of Rallsburg State University, presently suspended by a tight web of ropes and sheets some five feet in the air above the small living room. She plucked experimentally at a rope, which was taut and strong holding up Will's six foot stocky frame. With his muscles and well-chiseled face, he could be one of the most handsome guys on campus—if only he would get rid of the shoulder-length hair and stubble. He looked like he was just coming home from a headbanger concert every time she saw him.
Rachel glanced around her apartment, looking for anything that might get him down easily. Neatly stacked books and papers, several laptops, and a large whiteboard with long lists of names and hierarchies, but nothing that seemed remotely helpful. Rachel went into the kitchen and retrieved a serrated knife just as Will finally mumbled a name.
"Again, with feeling."
"It was Viper, okay?"
Rachel stopped short of cutting the nearest strand of rope and gave him a stern look. "You invited that psycho into our apartment?"
"Hell no!" Will snapped. "But he's not really the kind of guy you can just say no to."
"I do all the time," Rachel folded her arms, frowning.
Will shook his head. "You're much braver than me, honey. Now can you get me down please?"
"What did he want?"
"Wanted to know if we knew anything about his stuff being stolen. Only got him to leave when I convinced him you wouldn't be home for hours."
Rachel shook her head, exasperated, but began to saw at the rope with the scissors all the same. It was tough, military-grade stuff—unsurprising given the culprit. As she finally worked through the first few strands, Will began to rise higher toward the ceiling. He let out a yelp of pain.
Fear pulsed through her entire body, as panicked visions of her beloved's body twisting all out of proportion from the ropes surged through her mind. She stopped dead, not daring to move the blade another inch.
"What happened?"
"Rope's twisting at my leg. You cutting it just made it worse." He looked down at it, face creased in fear.
"How about I call an expert?" Rachel pulled out her phone and started dialing.
"Wait!"
"What?"
"Are you calling Mason? Please don't say you're calling Mason."
"You got a better idea?" Rachel pointed out, now with a ringing phone in her ear. Will groaned. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, grasping Will's hand with her own tightly. He took hold gratefully. "Don't worry, Will. Mason'll have you out of there in no time at all," she said comfortingly, as the phone in her ear clicked on.
"Rachel?" Quick and reliable to answer as usual, but Mason Rhistler always started a conversation with the other person's name. Never a 'hello' or a 'good morning.' Rachel often wondered what that was about. It sometimes felt like he had to remind himself who he was speaking with. She was surrounded by odd characters more and more every passing day.
"Hi, Mason."
"Shouldn't you be heading to class?" She grimaced at the reminder. Mason was the sort of person who always had his act together. As the nephew to the mayor, he seemed to believe he was partly responsible for each and every citizen of the town. Nowadays, she was as well-organized and on top of things as anyone, but the dry tone of his voice made it clear she'd never quite get her old reputation behind her. Not in front of her close friends, at least.
Rachel didn't need them to see her differently though. She had the entire world waiting for her to build up her new image, well beyond the student population of a tiny liberal arts college sequestered in the forests of western Washington.
"It's been a weird morning, okay? Look, we need your help."
"What's up?"
"Look, just come over to my apartment. Will got himself... stuck, and I'm having trouble getting him free."
"O...kay," Mason said slowly, clearly wondering if she'd gone off the deep end. "Did you forget how to unlock the bathroom door again?"
"No, it's not that," Rachel snapped, her cheeks flaring up at the memory. "You'll understand when you get here. The key will be in the gutter above the door. I've gotta run."
"Sure."
"And Mason? Come alone, please."
"Whatever you say, Rach." She winced. Rachel had always hated people shortening her name. Mason was doing it deliberately to mess with her, no doubt.
"Thanks." She hung up the phone, then glanced back at Will. He looked miserable, but otherwise okay. "Can I get you anything?"
"Nah." He tried to adjust his position a little in the web of ropes, to make himself more comfortable, but it didn't look like it helped much. He hung his head in disappointment, before forcing a smile onto his face. "Have a good day in class. I'll be fine."
Rachel could tell he was still upset, but it seemed like it was about more than just his current predicament. Will was the sort of guy that would keep everything internal as long as he could, even around her. She knew that pressing him on it would only make him feel more uncomfortable. Will would tell her when he was ready. She could wait.
Rachel went back into the kitchen and put the scissors away, grabbing the step stool as she went. She took it into the middle of the living room and climbed atop it. Will's face was pinched with disappointment, and just a twinge of fear, though Rachel could tell it wasn't directed at herself. He dragged back his fake smile once again, trying to reassure her before she left for the day.
"Have a good day. I love you," he said, and despite the situation and the many huge weights crushing down on both of their minds in that moment, it was still enough to send her heart fluttering. She looked back into his friendly brown eyes that always made her feel safe and comforted and smiled. Rachel leaned forward and gave him a kiss.
"I love you too." She could feel him squirm just a little, though his current restraints prevented anything else. She climbed back down, grabbing her bag of books and papers, and fastening the little pouch of other materials to her waist. "Text me when you can, okay?"
"Yeah."
Rachel closed the front door and locked it behind her, then took out her spare key and set it on the railing of the second story walkway of the apartment complex. She focused on it as best she could, though she'd always been awful at this sort of thing. Her hand contorted slightly at the effort, as she felt the energy flooding down to her fingertips. It was like a rush of blood, but deeper in the core of her body—a gust of wind that moved inside her skin. With a quick flick of the wrist, she sent the key fluttering upward.
She couldn't sustain it. The key wasn't hovering or flying in any sense. It was as if she'd thrown it. She winced, frantically refocusing on the little dot of reflected light in the morning sun, and flicked at it again. It abruptly changed directions in mid-air, flinging itself back toward the roof above the walkway. She heard it clatter satisfyingly into the gutter.
Rachel let out a small gasp of exertion as she released the mental energy she'd gathered back into her body. It had only taken two movements, awkward and exhausting as they might have been. She congratulated herself. Rachel had done far worse in the past. Maybe she was getting better.
A glance at the clock above the sign for Hendricks Apartments down in the parking lot was enough to dismiss the thought and send her scurrying down the stairs and onto the road. If she hurried, she might still make it to class on time.