Madison

Chapter Fourteen

by D.X. Machina                                                   

Angela raced through her classes that day, only half-present as she instructed her students about the corrosive effects of male-dominated thought on society. (Of course, her students were only half-present too, but that's another story entirely.) Her mind was occupied by the disappearance of Bradley Michaels, and the recuring image of her assailant--and her savior.

Something big was happening. She could feel it in her bones. It wasn't based on anythign tangible, but she knew instinctively that it was valid. That it was real. She hadn't questioned whether there were things beyond the ken of mortal man. Not since that night ten-and-a-half years ago.

She probably should've been surprised by the knock at the door. Office hours had ended half an hour ago, and she was still here only because her mind was wandering. Still--

"Come in," she intoned.

The door opened to reveal a pretty young woman, her hair tied back in a pony tail and a fresh bruise on her chin. "Professor McMartin, do you have a minute? I need help, and I don't know who else to talk to."

* * *

D.X. watched the news, transfixed by the sense of deja vu he felt. Yes, it was just one man. And yes, it was just being treated as a mysterious disappearance--not even a kidnapping. But he remembered the pattern all too well.

"I don't know. I don't think it's her. Maybe it's a copycat," he had told his wife and friend.

"I don't see how it could be a copycat. Besides you, Ronnie, and Liz herself, nobody knew what Liz was doing. Not exactly, anyhow."

"Scott's right," Teri added, grimly. "Our best hope is that it's just a coincidence. Either that, or it's her."

"Impossible," said D.X. blankly. "I--we wouldn't have missed her back in March. No, something else is going on here.

"And I don't have a good feeling about it."

* * *

Briana Thomas was the last person to see her boyfriend alive, and a witness to his death. Not that she could share the story of his death with anyone, at least without seeming insane. So she'd done what any normal person would do: she'd lied her ass off to the police.

She said her boyfriend had wandered off down Langdon, saying he was heading back to his dorm, but he never made it there. She sported a bruise from where he hit her--yeah, what of it? She'd called his place around five to see if he was there, wanting to break it off--the cell phone record showed that the call had been placed. But she certainly hadn't killed him. Besides, her whereabouts were pretty solid for most of the night, and there didn't seem to be enough time for her to have killed Brad and disposed of the body.

The police had taken her statement--a little skeptically, maybe, but without any real dissent.

But Briana knew what she'd really seen, and she knew it had really happened. She wasn't insane. And she needed to tell someone. So she sought out her women's studies professor, who had once told the class, in an odd moment, that she believed she'd been saved from rape by a vigilante with supernatural powers.

So she told Professor McMartin the whole story. And Angela leaned back in her chair and took it all in, understanding full well why her memory had taken its latest turn.

"You're not crazy," she finally reassured Briana. "You've had an encounter with The Coed--or maybe her spiritual heir."

"Is that why she told me to tell my friends that 'she's back?'"

"I think so," said Angela, thoughtfully.

"You know, I didn't want him dead. I mean, he was a jerk, but he wasn't evil."

"Maybe so," said Angela. "But in the heat of the moment, sometimes it's hard to tell. I probably wouldn't be here today if not for The Coed. She saved my life last time around. Who knows? Maybe she knew something you didn't.

"But," added Angela, "nobody's going to believe you saw a man shrink. Well, other than me, and maybe a couple other recipients of The Coed's protection. I saw a man vanish into thin air. I believe you, Briana, and you did the right thing."

Briana smiled in spite of herself. So did Angela.

* * *

Three days later, D.X. was about to call off the search.

The plenary meeting was in three days, and there was nothing besides his gut suggesting that there was anything at all amiss in Madison. Oh, sure, the coverage of Brad Michaels' disappearance continued unabated. But it seemed maybe he'd wandered off drunk after fighting with his girlfriend. Maybe, D.X. thought, the listening program was off. That had to be it. He hoped.

So he was writing his report on a warm Thursday evening, with Teri curled up in bed watching "The Daily Show," when his wife suddenly sat bolt upright.

"What's with you?" he asked, jovially.

"Shh!" she hissed, silencing him with a wave. She closed her eyes, and reached out, as if to deliver a blow.

She could feel the event, even if she couldn't place it. She saw the man--forty, neatly dressed, country club type. His hair was short-cropped, graying a bit. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he forced himself on her, his tumescent cock pushing towards its destination.

The eight year old was pushing back with all her might, eyes wet with tears. She was ashamed that he was doing this to her, ashamed that she couldn't stop him. She knew she couldn't tell on him--her mom didn't believe her before. She couldn't stop him. But she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

The bastard. He was supposed to be her stepfather.

And Teri felt the rage welling up inside her, the sheer fury as she reached out her hand and in a voice that was not her own, said "Shrink, 1:500 scale."

He dwindled to a speck before her eyes. She smiled, triumphantly, and said, "Transport," and his tiny figure disappeared. She knew he was going to be dropped into an elementary school where he could ogle the kiddies as long as he lived--which figured to be a few hours.

She felt a satisfaction as she turned on her heel and left.

And then, suddenly, the connection was broken and she was back in the real world, gasping for air as her husband moved towards her.

"The Coed--"

"Are you okay?" he was saying, but she waved him down.

"The Coed struck again," she wheezed.

Just then, D.X.'s phone rang. He grabbed it, and answered fluidly. "I know, Ronnie," he said before he even heard the Chair speak. "A massive outlay. We're going to investigate.

* * *

Angela returned to her apartment late in the evening. She'd taken a walk down by Lake Mendota, her mind replaying the information Briana had relayed to her.

The Coed was alive! She was sure of it. The woman who had saved her life and the lives of countless others lived. Over the past decade, she had worried--when the disappearances had stopped....

But that was over now. Thank God.

Angela walked into the studio apartment and looked around. She wandered over to the kitchen and took a glass down out of the cupboard, opened the fridge and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Gewürztraminer and poured a glass. She sipped the wine, a silent toast to her savior.

"Hello, Angie."

The professor wheeled around, shocked by the voice that came from behind her.

The woman was sitting in a chair, smiling. She rose, and strode towards Angela, her long red hair swaying with each step, a smile across her face.

"Oh my God...you're her."

And Elizabeth Jane Anderson smiled wider, and said, simply, "Yes."

Angela swallowed hard. She had so much to say! How could she ever repay this woman, who had risked so much? She wanted to throw her arms around her, thanking her for hours on end.

What she said was simply, "Would you care for a drink?"

"You've no idea how much I would like that."

The two drank in silence. There were no words that seemed appropriate for Angie to say...and Liz was so out of practice at talking that the silence seemed utterly natural.

At long last, she who was and is The Coed spoke.

"A long time ago...it seems like eons, though it has been only ten years...I saved you, no?"

"You saved more than me. You saved the women of Madison."

Liz cocked an eyebrow at the effusive praise. "You promised me you would help me in any way you could, do you remember?"

Angie nodded. "I could never forget. I'm ready to serve you."

Liz smiled. "You already have, my dear. I...used some of your energy to restore myself. I know you've probably felt run-down in the past month. But that is over now. Thanks to a few incidents, I've been able to restore myself to perfect health. Now, all I need is a place to stay."

"You've got it."

"And I need something else."

“Anything you need.”

“What I need,” said Liz, smiling broadly, "is a partner."

* * *

For now, they would sleep.

"So, liebschen, how are things?"

"Katrin, I don't know. I'm so confused. It--it can't be Liz."

"Why not?" asked the Goddess-Teacher, stirring the fire.

"Well, for one thing, she's dead."

At that, Katrin let out a loud, bellowing laugh. "Ha! And so am I, and yet you don't seem to hold it against me."

"Well...you're not real. I'm dreaming. You're the product of my dreams."

"So that's what you think this is, eh? You have much to learn, Yacob. So very much to learn. But that is true of us all, I suppose."

They were silent. A coyote broke the silence of the desert, and Jake looked intently at his mentor. "It is her, isn't it."

Katrin looked back at him. "Not just her, Jake. But yes."

He stared at the fire. "I can't kill her again, Katrin," he whispered.

"I know, liebschen, I know. But still, you must stop her. Or all that we worked to stop ten years ago shall come to pass--only the consequences, I fear, shall be far worse than our darkest imaginings."

And Jake shuddered. For his darkest imaginings were black as deepest night.

* * *

The two were kissing frantically, with Angela leaning up against the wall while Leah fondled her. Dimly, in a long-lost sector of The Coed’s mind, she knew that this was nothing she ever would’ve wanted in her former life. But that life was long gone, and if she couldn’t trust Jake, she couldn’t trust any man. Her lover, her partner...she would have to be a woman.

As for Angela, she had no doubts about the rightness of this moment. She was certainly not the first lesbian to major in Women’s Studies, and she certainly was not the last. She had been attracted to Liz a decade ago–and here she was, looking as young and fresh and beautiful and incandescent as she did back then.

“I want to try something with you,” said Liz, huskily, into Angie’s ear. “To show you what can be done with this....”

“I am yours,” replied Angie, and she meant it. 

And at once, Angela was falling down. No, that wasn’t right. She was shrinking.

Liz smiled down at her. “I think you’re going to enjoy this,” she said huskily.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the barren desert that lived in the subconscious of Jacob Thiessen’s mind, he was going through the same drills that Katrin had made him learn many years ago. The drills he had shown Scott, the drills he had shown Sarah.

“You are out of practice, Yacob. You must be at the top of your game to win the way you want to win.”

“I know, Teacher.”

“You know nothing. Again. We will drill again.”

Jake reached out and pushed at the force Katrin had enveloped him with. An AR spell, damn her. He had always struggled with them. And here he was, defending himself against the full power of an Adept.

And she was trying.

“Teacher, I am not as strong as you. Even if my technique was perfect, I could not defeat you.”

“Strength is as strength does, liebschen. Were you stronger than Elizabeth when you stopped her? No. You knew then how to win. You know now how to win.”

“No, it’s too much! I can’t–no, wait....”

He thought he knew the answer. He could taste it. He started the parry....

* * *

The alarm clock buzzed, and Jake sat bolt upright. “Shit!” he cried. He had it. He had it.

He had Katrin beaten, and he knew how to stop Liz.

Well, he had known how to stop Liz. But now...it was gone.

“What is it, honey?” asked Teri, rousing herself.

“It’s–nothing. Nothing. Just a dream.”

Teri looked at him a long moment. “Okay, it was a dream about Katrin. She was drilling me, and she was pushing me hard. And I almost thought I knew how to beat her, and then....”

“The alarm.” Teri slid into a sitting position, naked as she usually was. “You know, my Psych professors would suggest that this is simply a matter of sublimation–you using the image of your former teacher as a metaphor for your problems.”

“What would you say it is?”

“I’d say you need to listen to what Katrin is trying to tell you. She obviously knows what she’s doing.”

“So you believe that it’s really Katrin? I mean, really....”

“Jake, have you forgotten I was working as a Psychic when you met me? I’ve seen weirder things.”

Jake pulled himself out of bed.

“You know, Jake, I can help you get in touch with her in waking life. It may help.”

Jake looked back at his beautiful bride, smiling quietly. “That would be great. But I’m kind of afraid of what Katrin may say to me if I was wide awake.

“What she says in my sleep is frightening enough.”

* * *

In another room in Madison, another pair of lovers were laying in bed, comparing notes.

“So, you really think this will work?”

“Trust me, Liz,” said Angela, laying against her lover’s thigh, a bare six inches tall. “I know the women we’ll need. Over the next six days we’ll have a dozen trainees. And a month from now, we’ll take this town–for you, my Queen.”

“No,” said Liz, stroking Angie’s hair like one would pet a favored cat, “for us, Angie.”

And Liz smiled.

This town was hers. She owned it.