Trigger
TRIGGER
JILL MEENGS
Booktrope Editions
Seattle, WA 2014
COPYRIGHT 2014 JILL MEENGS
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).
Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.
No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.
Inquiries about additional permissions
should be directed to: info@booktrope.com
Cover Design by Greg Simanson
Edited by Wanda Adams
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-673-5
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-625-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014921150
CONTENTS
COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE
For Chad
First, last, biggest and most
PROLOGUE
Cathedral de Sevilla, Sevilla, Spain
Tuesday, July 1st, 12:58 AM
I CLOSED MY EYES, and willed myself not to breathe. My heart beat frantically as adrenaline pumped through my veins. Things like this didn’t happen to people like me. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen at all.
A faint noise broke the oppressive silence. I pressed up against the wall feeling the deep chill of the stone spread through my body. That sound, while barely audible, was enough to tell me that I was not alone. Somehow, he had made his way into the room without my knowing it. That noise was a mistake. I knew he would not make another.
I had to outmaneuver him. He was good, he was very good, and if he hadn’t been trying to kill me I would have admired him for that. The only question now was if I could be better.
CHAPTER 1
Outside of Assisi, Italy
Tuesday, June 24th, 3:05 PM
THE RAILCAR SWAYED hypnotically as it rambled past golden fields shimmering in the sun. Cypress trees lining the road next to the railway reached gracefully for the sky while offering the enticing promise of shade to weary travelers. In an effort to keep my mind occupied, I scrolled to one of my favorite Led Zeppelin songs on my iPod, hit play and began singing the lyrics in my head.
Although I didn’t want to admit it, I was trying to keep my brain busy because I didn’t want to think about what had been bothering me for several days. I couldn’t explain exactly why I felt something was off; I just knew it the same way I knew when I was coming down with a cold. I might not be able to determine why, but I definitely recalled when I started to feel something wasn’t right. But I didn’t want to think about that either.
Even though I had been backpacking in Europe for over a week, it was still a little hard to believe that I was sitting in a train in the middle of Italy. The day after final exams of spring term, I had boarded a plane in Portland, Oregon with my best friend Anna, and fifteen hours later we landed at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. While my classmates were spending the summer of 2014 suffering through tedious internships or boring minimum wage jobs, I had a bulging backpack, a Eurail pass, and my best friend with me for twelve glorious weeks of traipsing around the European continent. We were completely unfettered by rules, itineraries or chaperones.
In the seat across from me, Anna grooved to the rhythm of the song she was listening to. We were both easygoing, but where I was more cautious and calculating, Anna was free-spirited and uninhibited. Her sense of humor matched my own with her sly, dry wit and heavy use of sarcasm. She was intelligent, fun-loving and up for anything. We got along very well.
I had been looking forward to this trip not only because I wanted to see Europe, but because of the escape it provided from the completely ordinary existence that was gradually starting to stifle me back home. Life in the small town where I grew up was simple. I played sports and worked a summer job. My dad owned a business and my mom was a teacher. My older brother and I had no serious complaints when we were kids.
As I got older though, things got more complicated. Everybody around me seemed to know what they wanted in life and what it would take to achieve it. Even Anna knew that she wanted to be a veterinarian; she just wasn’t in a hurry to get there. I found this very frustrating because I had no clue. I just knew that I wanted something more than to settle for what is expected. The good old American Dream was my parents’ blueprint for my life path: earn a degree, get a career, get married and start a family, preferably in that order.
It didn’t make things easier that my computer-genius brother, Carter, seemed destined from birth for either the Ivy League or the National Football League. He ended up at Stanford where he was at the top of his class and an All-American in football. Living in his shadow had never been easy.
After high school, I enrolled at a state university and was doing well in my classes. School had never been a problem; more of a nuisance. When I was five years old I discovered that I could recall everything that I read, saw, or heard. At first, I thought it was this way for everyone. When I realized that it wasn’t, having a photographic memory made me feel special, as though I had a special super power. While this trait often came in handy, as I got older, people started to look at me funny when I quoted things verbatim, and more than one teacher had accused me of plagiarizing. After several embarrassing incidents, I started to treat my special super power like a dirty little secret that had to remain hidden. I began to downplay my ability and I never spoke about it to anyone. Once I had figured out that my special talent was better kept under wraps, school became more tolerable.
In the middle of my junior year at university, while my classmates were scrambling for the best internships in business management, I halfheartedly applied for several with no real desire to win any. Meanwhile, Anna had been bugging me for months to forget internships and go backpacking across Europe with her. Eventually, I agreed.
My mother tried to be supportive of my decision to “screw around all summer,” as my dad described it, but they were obviously worried for my future. Practically from birth they have drilled into me the mantra, “always be able to take care of yourself,” because they believed in the importance of self-reliance. To them, this meant a solid career as a doctor or lawyer; a job that they could be proud of and that would have solid income, so they would never have to worry about me. They love me, but they have never really understood why I can’t, or won’t, fall completely in line with “the program.” In their opinion, I questioned them, myself, and my future too much. The fact that Carter followed “the program” with no questions and no rebellions only made things more problematic for me.
Carter was everyone’s ideal. I could have hated him for that, but I didn’t; I adored him. I could always count on my brother to make me smile when I wanted to cry and make me laugh when I wanted to scream. He was the o
ne who kept our parents off my back and helped me see their side of things. I often referred to him as the “hostage negotiator.”
Despite my parents’ concerns, they hugged me goodbye at the airport, and the next day I was in France. Backpacking abroad was the most exhilarating thing I’d ever experienced. I loved exploring the sights and watching the different people. Fascinated by the history and culture surrounding me, I would devour the information in the guidebook on an area before we arrived. I had never felt so free, until that day at Versailles…
As the Italian countryside sped by, I realized that despite my best attempts to mull over trivial things, my mind had looped right back to the very incident that I was trying to avoid. Resigned to the inevitable, I let the memory run its course.
It had been scorching hot that day. Trying to steer clear of the crush of tourists by the palace, Anna and I happened upon a secluded pond in one corner of the gardens. The half-moon shaped pool was encircled by a lawn border and gravel pathway. Trees and manicured hedges enclosed the spot, making it very private.
“What is this place?” Anna murmured.
As if on cue, a deep, guttural noise followed by a large spray of water shot up from the center of the pond. Enchanted by a water fountain the size of a swimming pool, I dropped my daypack and kicked off my sandals. Relishing the soft tickle of the grass on my feet, I walked to the edge, took a deep breath, and stepped down into the deliciously cool water.
“Jordan, what are you doing?” Anna hissed.
“Come in. It feels amazing!”
“Are you sure it’s ok?”
“Come on!” I said, forging deeper into the water.
She moved to the edge of the pond then stopped to glance around like she was waiting for palace guards to pounce on us from the bushes.
“What are they going to do, put a note in our permanent Versailles security file?” I said mockingly.
She grimaced, but did not move forward.
Abruptly, multiple loud, groaning noises were followed by water spouting from a dozen different points across the pond. The jets twisted in a pattern of arcs, drenching me in an instant.
As water rained down around me, I tilted my face to the sky, flung my arms out and twirled. The blazing sun coupled with the cold water on my skin was intoxicating. Caught up in the moment, sheer joy bubbled out of me in the form of delighted laughter. Standing in the middle of this water fountain was way better than standing in front of the one at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.
I continued to spin until it was stop or fall over. Slowing down, I wobbled a bit from the uneven footing and my own lightheadedness. Anna finally moved, letting out a started yelp as she stepped into the chilly water.
That was the exact moment I had the inexplicable but undeniable feeling that someone was watching me. I quickly scanned the perimeter of the fountain, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t see anything strange. Checking again more slowly, my gaze was drawn to an area of particularly dense foliage directly across the pond. It was the perfect spot to observe the pool of water, and anyone in it, without being seen. Fixated on that area for several long seconds, I was unable to detect anything unusual. Regardless, I continued to feel on edge.
“Is something wrong?” Anna asked.
“Nah, it’s nothing.” I tried to sound convincing.
In an effort to distract us both, I started kicking waves of water at her. She immediately retaliated, instigating a water fight. It was an amazingly good time while it lasted. Eventually, palace security showed up, shouting at us in French, and the fun was over. We were laughing and slipping so much as we left the water that we had to hold onto each other to stay upright.
I am sure we looked ridiculous as we were “perp-walked” off the property, but I didn’t care. All that mattered to me was that we were no longer alone in that fairly isolated spot. Throughout the rest of the day, I was unable to shake that uncomfortable feeling. Hopeful that leaving Paris would alleviate my anxiety, I readily agreed when Anna suggested that we head to Italy.
That evening we hopped a train to Venice, and then it was on to Florence and Assisi before boarding this train to Rome. I had hoped that staying on the move and putting some distance between us and Paris would help. No matter how hard I tried to focus on other things, however, the uneasy feeling lingered like a troubled shadow.
The abrupt screeching of the train’s brakes jolted me out of my daydream. We were slowing down at the platform of a small station. I knew we would be on our way again in a few minutes, so I stayed in my seat. The train lurched to a noisy halt, rocking us in our seats. Anna’s eyes met mine and she flashed a quick grin. Behind me, the door to the railcar whooshed open. Suddenly distracted by something over my shoulder, Anna stopped fidgeting. Several long seconds later, her gaze slid past mine as she turned to stare out the window while bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. The forced casualness of the maneuver told me that whatever was behind me was of particular interest.
I shifted in my seat, ostensibly to get more comfortable, but in actuality to be better positioned to see the aisle. Tan, muscular legs in shorts passed by as my gaze traveled upward. He had the trim build and broad shoulders of an athlete, sported a light gray t-shirt, and had a brown backpack slung casually over his shoulder. I couldn’t see his face but I did get an eyeful of his tousled, russet hair.
He was followed by a slender guy, shorter, with light brown hair. The second man was dressed in a dark t-shirt, shorts, and also carried a backpack. They walked almost all the way to the far end before taking seats on the opposite side of the railcar. Just as they sat down, the departure whistle blew.
While the taller one had his back to me, I had a clear look at the short guy’s face. He was good-looking, with an easy smile, as he carried on what appeared to be a one-sided conversation. The train swayed into motion as Anna took off her earphones and flashed a toothy grin. I turned my music off and removed my earphones as well.
“This train ride just got much more interesting.” She was almost giddy.
I arched an eyebrow at her. “How old did they look?”
“Our age, maybe a bit older.” She repositioned herself so she could stare at where they were sitting.
The train lumbered along, and after a bit Anna informed me that she needed to use the restroom. I had seen the sign indicating that the toilet was at the other end of the car beyond where the guys were seated. Its strategic location made it the perfect excuse for her real objective. I watched covertly as she strolled the roughly forty feet down the aisle toward the boys.
Anna disappeared through the sliding doors. The minutes ticked slowly by. Then the door behind me slid open and three girls walked by, each carrying a large backpack. The tallest one had a bright yellow bandana holding her sandy blond hair away from her face.
The girls choose seats close to the guys. As they settled in, Anna reappeared, made her way down the walkway, and plopped down with a scowl.
“Why do you think they wandered in here?” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I couldn’t imagine.” I feigned ignorance.
Anna shifted so her back was against the window in order to keep watch on the developing situation. Bandana Girl boldly called out to the two guys. The slender one answered and they started an exchange that made the other girls start giggling.
Bandana asked the taller guy a question, forcing him into the conversation. Although I couldn’t hear exactly what she said, her tone was blatantly flirtatious. The tall guy’s response was short, but Bandana asked another question, which kept the conversation going.
“I think I will go check out the bathroom,” I said with forced casualness.
“It is lovely. Enjoy,” Anna quipped.
Leaving my pack under her supervision, I headed toward the two groups. Bandana scrutinized me with narrowed eyes before turning back to the boys. The shorter fellow watched me as I approached. Meeting his gaze, I flashed a half-smile. The tall guy stared fixedly out the window.
Once inside the restroom I locked the door, expelling the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I felt jittery, as though I was about to take a test or run a race.
Checking my reflection in the grungy mirror, I frowned critically. Anna and I had a lot in common personality-wise, but in looks we were polar opposites. She stood five-foot-four inches tall with an attractive, delicate face, blond hair, hazel eyes and pale skin. At almost five-foot-ten inches, I towered over her slight frame. My strong features and dark complexion were also at the other end of the spectrum. I had accepted a long time ago that my height along with an athletic build would keep me from ever being labeled cute. Fortunately, a love of jogging and yoga kept me in decent shape. I knew I wasn’t a conventional beauty like Anna, but I thought my high cheekbones and brown eyes were nice enough. A few days outside had given my skin a tanned glow. While my long brunette hair wasn’t a total disaster, it wasn’t terribly exciting either. I hastily raked my fingers through it trying to give it some style, but didn’t improve it very much.
Not that interested with my appearance while backpacking, I hadn’t bothered with much makeup, but I did have some lip gloss in my pocket. I pulled it out and slicked some on. I smiled at my reflection, and then frowned. Why was I primping? I left the restroom and pushed through the doors to the rail car.
As I crossed the threshold, the tall guy and I locked eyes. In that instant, several things happened simultaneously. First, the intensity of our eye contact jolted me to the core. Second, I found the confidence he exuded to be positively compelling. Finally, I realized I should have paid attention to what I was doing because the toe of my trailing foot caught on the door jam and I pitched forward on a collision course with the floor.
Flinging my arms out, I managed to grab the edge of a seat while twisting my body so that I landed in a heap next to the tall guy rather than facedown on the ground. There was a moment of stunned silence from all observing parties before Bandana and her friends burst into twittering laughter. I was blushing so hard I could feel the heat radiating off my face.