The rest of his shift flowed as slow as molasses. Zack hardly noticed when an inebriated man dropped a gallon of milk onto the floor, sending a white flood out to wash away the dust. His mind buzzed with the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone with Bridgette. Lacey needed his paycheck, but Zack had never let that fact influence his choices in the past. Otherwise, he would have upgraded to a more profitable career months ago.
As the day passed, a vague uneasiness began to bother him. He couldn't eat anything on his lunch break. What am I worried about? That she won't come back? That she won't like me? That I won't like her answers? The more Zack probed at his uneasiness, the worse it became. The slight shadows throughout the room seemed to grow deeper as he dug into his suspicions, pooling together and flowing towards him.
Zack squeezed his eyes shut and emptied his mind. When he looked again, the shadows were gone. The darkness rarely threatened him during the day – only when he let himself become emotional did it become a problem. Should I mention the darkness to Bridgette? Does she see it too or is something wrong with me? Am I insane?
Several years previously, Zack considered admitting himself into a psychiatric ward on the hope that he was delusional and doctors could cure him. The prospect of becoming a medical experiment if he wasn't crazy hadn't been enough to deter him. In the end, the only reason he decided against it was because he couldn't be sure the staff of a crazy house would let him have a nightlight.
When two o'clock arrived, Zack updated his handwritten timecard and went to the parking lot. He looked around, but couldn't see Bridgette anywhere. Zack let out a breath. Maybe he could just go home and worry about the other Observers another day.
An African-American man with hair in cornrows stepped out of a pickup truck and walked towards him. "You want to see Bridgette?" the man asked him. Zack backed away from the man in the direction of the store. The man raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm just here to give you a ride, friend. Let's go see Bridgette now."
Someone clamped a hand on his shoulder from behind and pressed something into his back. A deep woman's voice whispered in his ear. "Just walk forward, Hess. We have the girl. If you don't come talk to us, she's going to spend some more time underground. You don't want that, do you?"
"I'm not who you think I am," he said.
"We'll talk later. Now walk." When the woman prodded him in the back, Zack moved forward. The black man grabbed his arm and the two escorted him to the pickup. When they opened the passenger door, the woman jabbed something into his neck and Zack's entire body convulsed. When he stopped shaking, his arms were already twisted behind his back and shackled. They loaded him inside and were on the road before Zack managed to speak.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
The black man shook his head. "Playing stupid won't help you, Hess. We're going to do a replay of last Iteration. Two hundred years in a stone box just wasn't enough punishment for the stunt you pulled. And you didn't learn a damned thing. I turn on the news and see an Observer flaunting the Divine Command and you know what I think? I think we didn't do Hess good enough last time. That's what I think."
"I'm not Hess."
Zack jumped when the taser crackled in the woman's hand. She waved it in front of his face. "Might want to keep your mouth shut. Once we get to the farm, the fun is going to last for a long time. Just sit back and enjoy your last moments without pain."
"Put the taser away while I'm driving, Laura," the black man said.
"I have had enough of your paranoia."
"Have you noticed I'm a black man in a white country? People notice minorities. If anyone gets busted when Hess disappears, it will be me. So put the damn taser away."
"I'm a woman and I still have bigger balls than you, Drake."
The man slammed his fist on the steering wheel. "I'm going by Weston!"
"Sorry, chica, but Hess will know who did this to him. He's Drake; I'm Erik. Griff and Ingrid are waiting for us at the farmhouse."
Drake shook his head. "We should lock you up with him, Erik."
The woman named Erik snickered at that. "Don't let the tits fool you, Drake. I'm still more than you can handle. Even if you found the balls to make a move against me, the others wouldn't back you. No one wants me as an enemy."
"You are a psychopath," Drake said.
Erik laughed. "We're all psychopaths. When one of us starts caring for people is when the trouble starts. Just ask our bleeding heart here about how he wants to change the world."
"What I meant to say was serial killer," Drake said.
"You have no idea what kinds of things I discover for the Creator," Erik said. "The way people react to extreme situations reveals a lot about them. You wouldn't believe the things they will do to avoid a little pain. I can break the strongest in forty-eight hours. Some people crack without a single touch." Erik scraped her nails over Zack's face hard enough to draw blood. "I didn't get enough time with this one last Iteration. We had to be quick that time. But you're a nobody in this world. I can have all the time I want."
Drake shook his head. "You get twenty-four hours and then he goes in the ground. That's it."
"I'm calling the shots, Mr. Minority."
"We've been considering an intervention for you. Murder counts as participation if anything does."
Erik leaned forward to look across Zack's body. "You want to make this personal?"
"None of this is personal."
"Oh no, Drake, this is nothing but personal."
Drake didn't respond. After a minute, Erik grunted. "Just remember what I'm capable of and you won't be tempted to do something stupid."
The truck pulled off the road onto a long dirt drive. Drake spoke quietly. "For the record, Hess, this isn't personal for me. This is just driving your lesson home."
Zack stared out the window without thinking, forcing his mind to stillness. Whatever was about to happen to him was going to be bad.