The Transfixed

chapter four

Bridget pulled the collar of her raincoat up, and lifted her suitcase off the bed. Pickle was watching her keenly from his post by the doorway. He didn’t look at all pleased at the prospect of Bridget leaving.

“I won’t be gone long.” She told him, forcing a smile and tucking her SD card into the pocket of her raincoat.

Pickle let out a very impolite meow.

She chuckled, “You can always tell when I’m lying, can’t you?” After patting his soft head, she moved past him to the hall and switched off the lights in the backroom. When everything seemed in place, Bridget lifted her beloved cat in her arms and carried him to the front door. A friend from across the building had agreed to take care of him while Bridget was away.

“Be a good, boy, alright?” She set him down near the door of her friend’s apartment, “I don’t want to have to worry about you while I’m interviewing terrorists at the White House.”

The second the door swung open, and a bowl of milk was set down, Pickle seemed to forget about leaving Bridget altogether. She said bye to Pickle one last time, and thanked her friend. She checked her watch and narrowed her eyes. The plane would be ready in only a half hour. She needed to hurry in order to make it to Washington within a decent hour.

As she moved down the staircase with her two pieces of luggage, she smiled to herself; imagine! The President waiting for her! It had all happened so fast. Her smile soon vanished, though, when she reinstated the purpose of her excursion. Hundreds of people were dead, many wounded, and the Eiffel Tower had literally been blow through the middle. It was certainly the worst nightmare she’d ever had, but the difference was this was real.

“Miss, where to?” The dark-faced driver inquired as she slid into the back seat of the checkered, yellow cab.

Bridget pointed eastward. “Bedford Airport, please. Do you know which side Terminal 4 is on?”

The man nodded affably, and put the cab in gear. “Yeah, I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks.” She glanced out the window, and sighed in contentment. Her head was spinning with a million questions, and absolutely no answers came to her.

A cellphone hummed, and Bridget was quick to retrieve it from her carry-on bag. “Hello?”

“Miss Briggs? It’s Wallace. I was calling to see how you’ve been doing.” His deep, friendly tone instantly made Bridget relax.

“I’m... alright. Been an interesting day, I guess.”

“Have you seen the news?” He asked gravely.

Bridget nodded to herself. “Yes. It’s horrible what’s happened. I’m trying to figure a way to catch the accused in their tracks; and hopefully prevent other people from getting hurt.” Her voice was wistful.

The doctor sounded surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sort of leaving the city... on an errand.” She replied vaguely.

“What? Where?”

Bridget watched the cab driver exit the freeway and the Airport came into view. “Washington.”

“State?”

“No, D.C.”

“Why?” He was having trouble following.

She bit her lip; this was a hard question. “Well, the world is in need of a miracle. I’ve been hired to see if I can make that happen.”

“With your... er, powers?”