Chapter 18

“Interview?” I asked, utterly confused.

Mr Foster shook his head and climbed out of the car.

The driver of the SUV in front of us did the same. They shook hands and talked for a minute. My mind was buzzing with thoughts and fears. I wasn’t sure what was really going on. Then the other driver calmly climbed back into his SUV and backed out of our way. Mr. Foster strolled over to his car door and waved or something at the SUV behind us, which then pulled back, leaving us alone. Mr Foster climbed into the car, closed the door, and we eased out of the parking lot.

He didn’t say anything as he drove. I sat staring out the window going over the whole situation. I came to the understanding that I should have realized the whole thing was a hoax. His men didn’t put in the same level of effort to kill me or to even disable the car so as to make it easier to do so.

I went over the entire string of events and there were a few details that didn’t make sense. The one glaring detail was seeing Mr. Portal driving that SUV and one of his doorways standing in the middle of the highway. I decided on a somewhat tactful approach to my questions. “So, everything we encountered was a setup?”

“Not a setup,” he said. It seemed he was ready for a lot more from me. “But, it was all a test. I wanted to know how you would react in a given situation.”

Feeling surly, I crossed my arms and said, “You could have just asked, but instead you decided to put other people in potential danger.”

“No on both parts,” he said. “First, no one really knows how they’ll react in any situation. Fight or flight is a very real thing. A father of three and loving husband may find himself running from his house without any regard to the rest of his family if frightened, whereas a teenager will stand and face down those who would kill him, given the chance.”

I was frowning. Sure, I was ready to stand and fight, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t withdraw, given the chance. Maybe I was being argumentative, but I couldn’t see past the whole setup thing.

“Second, the people around us were never in potential danger: every one of them were actors and stunt drivers paid to be there. Even the patrons in the Burger King.”

That brought my thought process to a screeching halt. It took me a minute to put together an intelligible string of words. “Just how long did it take to put all of this together?”

He shrugged. “A few weeks. We had to train for a few different possibilities, but overall, it went a lot better than expected.”

“Meaning no one was hurt, right?”

“I noticed how you looked back after one of the SUVs had collided with that car, sending both into the ditch,” he said. “I knew then that you were as conscious of those around us as I had been.”

“It’s not like we’re living in the Matrix and they’re potential Agents,” I said. “But I did feel better seeing the driver of the other car climbing out on his own.”

“If he hadn’t?”

“I would have made you turn around so we could check on him.”

“Even given that you were being pursued by alleged assassins?”

I shook my head. “My self defense should not come at the cost of others’ lives.”

“Would you give up your own life to help someone who was hurt while you were defending yourself?”

I thought that over and nodded. “I would.”

He shook his head, whistled under his breath, and said, “Noble.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I will willingly damage my attackers’ equipment and vehicles. I may even damage them directly. But, someone who happens to be near-by while things are going down does not deserve to be hurt. And I will use my abilities to correct that if I can. At the very least, I will make sure they survive until emergency care arrives.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word. “You can ... heal?”

“Minor injuries for both myself and others,” I said. “I helped a police officer survive having his head bashed on concrete last summer. I stopped the bleeding and stitched his skull back together.”

Mr Foster’s eyes widened and his aura quickly shifted through a few emotions. “Okay, and yourself?”

I shrugged and glanced at my hand. “I healed a big cut on the palm of my hand last summer. Didn’t even know I could do that at the time.” Then I looked up. “And a few days ago, I healed a bunch of scrapes and bruises after my encounter with Mr Portal and Ms Daggers on the horse trail.” Then I watched him closely. “Speaking of whom, I thought I saw Mr. Portal driving one of your SUVs.”

Nothing in his aura changed. He was as steady as a rock. He nodded and then said, “I have a special effects team. When Ms Frasier brough us that coin, I looked into the personnel of the House of the Green Dragon. I also looked into the police reports from your run in with him. His name is Hayden Gibson. The woman you referred to as Ms. Daggers is Sara Wagner.”

I stared at him. I wasn’t sure what to think. So much had happened so fast, that I felt dizzy. Too many things were buzzing about my head: the attacks, Bethany’s killer, being falsely arrested, and now this so-called interview. I needed a day or two to myself. Some time out of town to put my mind back in place. I needed to go running. “Can we go by my place?”

“What for?”

“I need to get my running gear. I need to think.”

“You need running gear to think?”

“Running is a form of meditation for me. It allows me to clean up the mess in my head and figure out what I need to do next.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. I know this weekend has been a whirlwind for you. I’d need to clear my head too.” Then he took a left, two rights, and we were pulling into my apartment complex. “Where do you run?”

“At the Arlington park just South of here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I got to my door, only to find it locked. I thought about everything that happened and realized that my key was probably still in Eric’s car. Hopefully, that was still at the motel where I was attacked last. I turned around and trudged back to Mr. Foster’s car.

He looked at me as I buckled myself back in.

I didn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed. “I seem to have left my key in my friend’s car.”

“Where’s the car?”