Twilight Fall

If she fails to reach her potential, the general said, we will take her for one of our test groups.

Liling hadn't reached her potential, nor had she known the full extent of what she could do until after she had escaped the priests, for which she was grateful. If they had had any idea, they would have killed her, or worse, locked her away so that she never saw the sun again.

In the beginning she had thought about going to a hospital, a real one, and asking for help. But her mentor had assured her that the doctors would never let someone with her ability roam around freely.

They see what you do.,Mrs. Chen had said, they call the police and lock you up.

"It's only a picture. As you said, it doesn't even show my face." What were the odds that the priests would see it? "By tomorrow it will be birdcage liner and fish wrapping."

"You really don't know. Lili, this picture is in every paper in the country. Lili." Martha caught her elbow as she staggered and guided her to a chair. "It's all right: you're all right. Put your head down between your knees, honey, and breathe." She pressed her forward. "That's it. Just breathe."

Liling breathed, and gradually the faintness receded. When she felt sure she wouldn't pass out, she sat up slowly. Now she would have to tell this woman something to explain her reaction, and then she would go.

"I'm sorry," she said to Martha. "This… honor… is so astonishing, and I think I forgot to eat something today." She forced her lips into a smile, "it was so warm outside, I must be dehydrated."

Martha was a good nurse, and insisted on checking Liling's pulse, eyes, and temperature.

"You're fine, but I think you should go home early for a change." Martha said as she went to the fridge and brought back a cold bottle of soda. "I've never seen anyone turn so pale so fast. I thought you were going into shock. Here, drink this; it'll settle your stomach."

Liling allowed the older woman to fuss over her for a few more minutes, until she was able to convince Martha that she was steady enough to make the trip home. She thanked her and went directly to the employee locker room, where she kept her purse and car keys.

For the first time since she had begun working at the Lighthouse, she also removed the small carrying bag she had kept in her locker at all times. In the bag were three changes of clothing, three sets of identification, and three wigs. She checked the large roll of money she had stashed in the side pocket—five thousand dollars in twenties and tens—before putting the strap over her shoulder and going to the shower room.

Quickly she stripped and washed, drying off to change into a pair of jeans and a dark T-shirt from her bag. She checked the folded map she had marked with her route from Georgia to Texas: it would be a long drive from Atlanta, but she would be filmed by airport security cameras getting off the plane, so she couldn't risk staying in Georgia even for a day. Her braid had gotten wet, but there was no time to dry her hair. She considered cutting it off to further change her appearance, but it would be wiser to do that when she changed her clothing again in a restroom at the airport.

Liling had never been forced to move this quickly, but she had always been prepared for the possibility. Chen Ping, the ninety-year-old woman in San Francisco who had taken her in and saved her life, had believed her story. It was Mrs. Chen who had taught her to always be ready to go.

"These bad men think you are dead," the old lady told her. "We can hide you here in Chinatown until they stop looking, but you not go outside."

Mrs. Chen told her many friends that Liling had come to America to escape being imprisoned for protesting against the Chinese government. The people of Chinatown revered the old lady, so they had gladly provided Liling with a number of identities and documents. Others had relatives working as translators for INS, and in a few years they were able to arrange foreign birth documents and secure approval for her to become a citizen.

Liling had stayed with the elderly woman, caring for her home and tiny garden until Mrs. Chen died one night, very peacefully, in her sleep. After the modest funeral, Liling discovered the old lady had left her entire savings to help Liling begin a new life.

"Chen Ping told me that you were the daughter of her heart," the lawyer told the astonished Liling as he handed her the certified check. "She asked me to tell you not to grieve for her, but to be happy."

The money had been a final gift, one that provided her with the means to take responsibility for her own life. It had been difficult for Liling to bid her friends in Chinatown good-bye and set out on her own, but without Mrs. Chen to conceal her presence, she knew she would only endanger them.

Liling deliberately kept only cheap housewares, thrift-store furniture, and minimal clothing at her apartment—nothing she needed to retrieve and take with her. She had split her inheritance up between three national banks, and had also put large sums of cash in safety-deposit boxes in several different states.

As she did with every car she had owned, she had bought her Ford Focus with cash and had registered it under a false name; when they found it abandoned at the airport they would not be able to trace it back to her. As part of her preparations, she had already obtained a license and papers using the next identity she would assume. When she arrived at her destination, she would no longer be Liling Harper, but Lian Hart.

No, she reminded herself, she would have to purchase her plane ticket as Lian Hart. Liling Harper had to die in Chicago.

She went out to use the phone at the nurses' station to call the airport, but stopped at the sight of a dark-haired man in a long black garment.

"I understand that Ms. Harper has left for the day," he was saying. A distinct Italian accent colored his cold voice. "Did she indicate her destination?"

Liling silently backed out of sight and hurried down the hall to Luisa Lopez's room.

"You're late today," Luisa said as Liling came in and quickly closed the door. Her hazel eyes shifted to the carry-on. "You planning on going somewhere, girl?"

"Luisa, do you remember when I told you that I might have to leave someday?" Liling went over to the bed. "I have to go today."

Luisa looked stricken. "What?"

"I'm sorry." It broke her heart to see tears well up in the girl's eyes. "I would stay if I could."

"But you can't go yet," Luisa protested. "I don't talk well enough yet. I need more practice. We haven't finished the story. I don't know what happens to Marianne."

"There are bad men who are looking tor me," Liling said. "They know where I work now. They are going to try to take me, and when they do they might hurt you and the other people here."

"We got security guards, don't we?" Luisa gestured toward the door. "You can take mine. He'll kick their asses all over this hospital."

"He can't help me." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to miss you so much. Thank you for being my friend." She bent over and kissed her forehead.

"He won't stop." Luisa whispered, her eyes fixed on the wall behind Liling. "Not until you're dead." She seemed to come out of the trance as quickly as she went into it, and awkwardly pushed at Liling with her splinted hand. "You have to go. Don't waste time sitting here and crying on me. Hurry."

"I have to use your phone." Liling heard the boom of lightning and looked out through the window. Huge thunderclouds had erased the sun and were swelling up all around the facility. "To call the airport."

"Then what you—what are you waiting for?" Luisa wiped her face on the sleeve of her hospital gown. "Damn new eyes."

Liling kissed her friend's cheek before she picked up the phone and dialed nine for an outside line. Once she had a dial tone, she quickly put in star-sixty-seven to conceal the number she was calling from, and then dialed the number for the airline she had used to come to Chicago.

The reservations clerk who answered didn't bother to check for unreserved seating.

"I just sold the last available seat to Atlanta through tomorrow morning, Ms. Hart," she said pleasantly. "I can get you a seat on a flight in the late afternoon or early evening."

"No, I have to leave now. Can you check the other airlines?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm doing that right now." The clerk fell silent for several minutes, and then said, "All of the flights out of Chicago to Atlanta are full."

Liling tightened her grip on the phone. She would have to abandon her plans. "I'll take a flight to any major city in the country, as long as I can leave in the next hour."

"You're very flexible. Just a moment, ma'am." The clerk put her on hold, and then came back on the line a minute later. "Miss Hart, I'm terribly sorry, but all the flights out of Chicago International are booked solid. If you'll give me a number where I can call you, I'll let you know the moment there is a cancellation."

Liling hung up the phone. She had been on the line for only a few minutes, but that might have been enough time for the call to be traced. She would have to risk driving out of the city until she found an airport the priests did not control.

The scent of fresh-cut camellias filled the room.

"Good evening, Luisa." Valentin Jaus came in. He wore his usual trench coat and carried a black umbrella, which he propped by the door. "Miss Harper."

"Hello, Mr. Jaus." She smiled quickly at him before she bent down and gave her friend one last gentle embrace. In a whisper, she said, "I'll try to call you when I can."

"You do, or I'll come looking for you," Luisa whispered back.

Jaus stopped Liling from leaving simply by blocking the door with his body. "Miss Harper, what is the matter?"

She felt a strange tugging sensation in her chest, as if Jaus were a magnet for fearful hearts. "I have to travel to Atlanta tonight, but all the flights are booked. I'm going to have to drive down. Excuse me, sir." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">