14

Mid-jump Kendra felt the thrill that comes with sudden insight.  In a flash she saw not only the equation that would tell her where to look for a vampire, but also its solution.

Kendra landed in a crouch on the floor of her lab, and laughed with relief.  It was daylight, and near noon to judge from the bright sunlight that shone on the equipment around her.  She felt safe.

“Grab her!”

Before Kendra could turn to confirm that it had been Xenopoulos who had spoken, a cloth bag was thrown over her head.  Hands dug into her armpits, and she felt her body, huddled more tightly in its crouch, lifted off the floor.  She kicked both legs out to the sides as hard as she could.  The guy on her right dropped her, and grunted in pain.  The one on her left swore.  With one foot on the ground, Kendra struggled as hard as she could.

“Idiots!” Xenopoulos shouted.  “She must weigh all of 95 pounds!”

The fellow on her left dug his hands more deeply into her armpit.  She yowled in pain, and tangled her legs around his.  If she could just trip him, maybe she could end the horrible pressure on the nerves to her left arm.  The big goon just stood there.  Kendra squeezed her legs against one of his.  Nothing happened.  She was as effective as a moth against a tree trunk.  The goon laughed softly.  The other one grabbed her right arm and wrenched it behind her back.

“Careful!” the woman directed.  “We need her hands and her brain.”

“I won’t give you either, Xenopoulos!” Kendra shouted.

All three of her kidnappers laughed.  The thug on her left took one hand off her.  Kendra felt him shift, and then she felt something cold on the side of her neck. 

“No!” she shouted.  “Help--”  The one on her right clamped his hand over her mouth.  Kendra heard a hiss just below her ear.  Her head became too heavy to hold up.  “No,” she protested, but even to her own ears it sounded like a whisper.

Kendra swatted at something red in front of her.  She didn’t make contact with anything.  She turned her head to look to the side, and felt the room tilt.  “Nnnn…” she said thickly.

“She’s coming around,” a male voice said somewhere near her feet.  The red heat in front of her eyes darkened briefly.  Surprised that her eyes hadn’t been open all that time, Kendra forced one eye to open.  She closed it immediately, blinded by painfully bright light.

“About time,” said another voice.  “Breathe on your own, girlie.”  Pressure on the corners of her jaw vanished just as she realized that it was there.  Immediately her chin fell to her chest and she snored.  Embarrassed she lifted her chin, or thought she had, but when she drew another breath her tongue fell back and gagged her.

“Shit,” said the second voice.  Hands forced her jaw forward and her tongue with it.  Grateful, she drew two deep breaths.  Is this how captives bond with their captors?  Her brain slid back into sleep.

Kendra woke in a hospital bed, in an otherwise empty room lined entirely with dark foam--soundproof tiles.  To scream would be pointless.  Wide leather cuffs enclosed her wrists and ankles, and each cuff was tied to the bed frame.  She could move each limb about six inches, but could not scratch her own nose.  How trite.

She didn’t want to play the helpless female.  The unfairness of her situation hit her, like a physical weight.  Kendra groaned.  That did nothing to relieve her misery, so she swore and pounded her limbs against the mattress until her muscles burned.  It felt good. Freedom might be a long time coming.  She had to stay strong somehow.  The thought reminded her of the women’s self-defense class she’d planned to attend Monday night.  She wondered what day it was.  A tear rolled down the side of her face and dangled at the opening of her ear.

Self-pity disgusted Kendra.  Her mind dutifully trotted out its customary barefoot and pregnant image.  Kendra laughed bitterly.  “Oh yeah?” she jeered at that disciplined part of herself.  “How does that compare with tied to a mattress in an empty room?”  Her brain had no offer a snappy comeback.

Instead it reviewed the facts--all of them.  Compared to her current bound-to-a-bed state, her everyday life seemed tame.  Kendra found that she could face fears about her work that had been building for months.  Why could she jumped back in time only to her younger self?  She’d like to go talk with Galileo for instance.  He’d probably refuse to speak meaningfully to a woman—sexist pigs back then and all--but still, she’d like to try to reach him, or DaVinci. 

It became obvious to her there, bound to the bed, what it was that had held her back.  It wasn’t the math.  In fact just then she could better imagine the space-time curve--not a curve really, but more akin to a fractal.  That would be an easy adjustment.  What had held her back was fear.

“Oh that,” Kendra laughed.  She’d faced it a lot in her life from the time she’d had to seek permission to graduate early from of a bunch of frowning, frumpy old men on the Wichita school board.  Being a 14 year-old college freshman in a dorm full of older girls hadn’t been easy either.  So what was had frightened her about time travel?

“Oh, nothing much,” Kendra grumbled to herself, “just the unraveling of the fabric of our entire culture.”  After all, what meaning did the great works of literature hold if death could be undone, or at least put off, if transgressions could be made right, and lost opportunities relived?

“What am I supposed to do, abandon my--” Her eyes flew around the room, looking for listening devices.  She saw none, but didn’t doubt that they were there.  Best not to speak some things aloud.  Must I abandon time travel?

“Shit,” she whispered.  The earthiness of the word comforted her.  She said it again and again with gratitude for whoever had started the tradition--how long ago?  Centuries at least--and for everyone who kept the word alive, which is everyone.

That moment of intense bonhomie passed too soon.  The two thugs who had helped Xenopoulos to kidnap her stomped into the room.  One on each side of the bed, they untied her, then pulled her torso upright.

“Wait!” she croaked hoarsely as her hamstrings screamed in protest.  “My legs!  They’re cramped.”  Dismayed, she wondered again how long she’d been tied to the bed.  Her until-then-vague estimation of the power behind the kidnapping went up several notches.  Did American—international really--corporations vanish people?  Was she still in the United States?  Kendra’s heart pounded as she reached toward her toes.  A sharp pain shot up the back of each thigh, sharply cutting off all other thought.  She groaned.  To stand without pain was her new life ambition.

“Hurry up,” grumbled one of the two goons.  “They’re waiting.”