Artificial Heart

Prisha couldn’t believe it. Who the hell ends stairs halfway up a building?

There was no window she could climb through. Nothing she could climb onto. It simply ended in midair. And she was still two stories up! She looked down to the alleyway and its hard pavement. Too far. Definitely too far. No bush here. A bicycle was leaning up against the opposite building. People walked past on the busy path ahead. Nobody noticed her. No men in black had arrived to meet her.

There was a window but it would involve walking along a very precarious-looking ledge. Much smaller and dangerous than the last. At the sound of commotion from above, Prisha pulled back into the wall, trying to conceal herself in the shadows. A man peered down.

‘I see her!’ Then he was over the rail and climbing down. The heaviness of his footsteps reverberated through the metal of the stairs. ‘Stop running! It’s dangerous here! You need to stop running!’

Prisha chewed her lip as she glanced over towards the window again. When she looked back, he was already halfway towards her. A second man was following him. Prisha’s mind seemed to leave her body as she climbed up on the rail and stepped onto the window ledge. Like she did the last time, she flattened herself out against the wall, fingers digginginto the brick.

What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this?

She could hear the man shouting from above. ‘Stop! Stop right there! You’re going to fall!’

Prisha looked down between her feet. The ground moved sickeningly. She turned away with a wince, focusing on her feet instead, making sure she found purchase in the brick. She felt like a frickin’ spider. How was she doing this? This was incredible! Her foot slipped. Her heart lurched. She grabbed onto the wall for dear life.

‘Stop!’ came the man’s voice again.

He was close now. Only a level above. He leapt down the last few steps. Making the stairs shake and rattle. And then he was there. Blonde hair. Dark eyes. Young. Fit. There was a gun at his hip.

He reached out his hand, his forehead screwed up. ‘Come back. There’s no way. It’s too dangerous.’

Prisha didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. If she lost focus, she might fall. He climbed over the rail. He studied the window ledge and thought better of it.

He held out his hand again. ‘We’re not going to hurt you.’

Go back or go forward? The window was just there. It wasn’t far. But it was further away than the stairs. The window was open. Curtains flapped. Carefully, she sidled closer, inch by inch. She was making it. She was doing it.

‘Stop!’ the man called again. ‘There’s no point. There are men already inside the building. They are waiting for you.’

Prisha kept going. She was almost there!

She froze at the sound of a crack! Prisha blinked, confused. She was about to move on when the ledge slumped. Prisha cried out, digging her fingers hard into the brick until it hurt. Her cheek, her chest and belly were crushed up against the wall. She cried out again as the ledge started breaking away entirely from the building.

The man was shouting now. ‘She’s falling!’

Prisha shrieked as she felt herself tilt, as her feet slipped.

‘ALF!’ Some of the ledge fell away. She heard it smash against the ground. ‘ALF! HELP!’

She didn’t know why she was calling for him. Panic. Instinct. Stupidity. Whatever! The man was calling for her. He shouted something up to the man above.

‘ALF!’ she screamed

Her fingers slipped. Then she was falling. She must have screamed, though it was hard to know anything but the feel of her beating heart and the wall pulling away and the thought of the hard pavement turning her into spaghetti.

She could see the building rise up past her. The windows. Again, all in slow motion as her mind and senses struggled to catch up with her impending doom.

And then the flashbacks came. Memories of her parents. Her brother and sister. Of the dogs she owned. University. Her work. Friends. She even dredged up some memories from school. Then of Alf, of course. So much about Alf. Everything was about Alf.

What a stupid thing to do. What a stupid thing to do.

And then she saw him. In the corner of her eye. Another flashback? No. A hallucination. He was racing down the alley. He was very close—in her mind, at least.

He was wearing that weird shimmery cloak, hood pulled low over his face. But she knew him. She knew that gait. The way he moved. His complete alienness. How did she not pick it up before? It had to be him. The back of her neck burned with pain.

Then there was the ground. She closed her eyes. She sucked in a breath as she hit. It was hard. Definitely hard. But not as hard as she thought. She felt … something. A thump. A shock. Her head arched back. Her eyes snapped open. She was staring into a deep red light. Was this death?

And then she really did hit the ground and her mind switched to reality. Alf stumbled, struggling to bear her weight as he caught her on the run. His red eye flicked off before blazing again as he tumbled. He gripped her tight, burying her head into his chest as he fell. The ground rushed past. More thumps. Flipping. Rolling. Tumbling. The road grazed her leg, her arm, her cheek. He had an arm wrapped around her head, bearing the brunt of the hardness of the pavement.

And then it all stopped.

Prisha’s ears were ringing. Or was that the sound of a siren? She felt him. She smelled him, her nose pressed hard into his shoulder where it belonged. She could feel him breathing against her, arms wrapped tightly around her, crushing her to his chest. Alive. Real. Warm. He didn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go.

The wailing of the siren became louder. Prisha looked up. Alf looked down. He was wearing a covering over his nose and mouth, like a mask. It would have given him a fearsome look, if not for his eyes. Those gentle, piercing, shining, bright eyes.

‘You’re here,’ Prisha breathed, staring into that wondrous gaze. Then her eyes welled and she was crying.

He pulled away the mask, allowing it to hang from one ear. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. Are you?’

‘Minor injuries.’

Prisha sniffed back a new wave of tears. Then she laughed. ‘What took you so long?’ She touched his nose, his cheek, his mouth as she laughed and laughed and cried. Then she found his lips with her lips and she was kissing him and he was kissing her. And she was gripping onto him for dear life like she had the building when she was about to fall.

It felt a bit like that—falling.

It seemed to last forever. It seemed to last no time at all. And then it was over. Their lips pulled apart. Reality crashed in. The alley was dirty and ugly and hot and far from private. People were watching, their precious little moment shattered.

Prisha gripped onto Alf. ‘Keep away!’

Three men stood watching. One was frowning. One was wide-eyed. The third pulled out a gun from inside his vest. Prisha’s stomach lurched sickeningly as he pointed it at Alf.

Alf’s forehead was deeply lined. His artificial eye kept blinking on and off. There was blood around the edge of the metal near his ear. She touched it with a frown.

‘Alf,’ she croaked. ‘You’re hurt.’

His face fell, as though he was upset. ‘I am sorry.’ And he pressed his hand to her belly.

’You know.’ Prisha wiped her cheek against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, pretending they were elsewhere; somewhere on the ship. Safe. Together. And far away. ‘How have I fallen for you so hard, Alf? I hardly know you.’

Prisha heard voices. She ignored them. She was starting to feel pain in her spine because of the awkward position she was in, half-sprawled in Alf’s lap on the hard pavement. She ignored that too. It was hot. She was sweating.

Someone kept calling her name.

Finally, she looked up, into Alf’s eyes, then over and around her. There were more people now. Probably close to a dozen men. Some were in black. Some in casual clothes. A couple were in suits. They were watching them both carefully. No. They were watching Alf carefully. Alf pulled his mask back on.

‘Alf,’ one of them spoke.

It was Ralph. His eyes were wide. His balding head was shining with sweat. The two men beside him were holding guns. Ralph was not, though he had his hand at his hip.

‘We don’t want to hurt you,’ Ralph said. ‘We don’t want to hurt her. But you need to come with us.’

Alf stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending. He looked over at Prisha who slowly shook her head. ‘He wants you to come. He says if you don’t, he’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt me.’

He gazed into her eyes. He prepared to stand. Prisha grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t trust them.’

They stood together. Alf took her hand.

‘Don’t hurt him,’ Prisha said.

‘We don’t want to hurt him.’ Ralph was gazing at Alf in wonder now. So were the others, though wary, braced for danger. ‘Lower your weapons,’ he told them.

Relief swept over Prisha. Alf’s hand tightened around hers.

‘We just want him to come with us. We just want to ask some questions. Tell him that.’

‘What if he doesn’t want to come?’

‘We don’t want that.’

‘He won’t want to come,’ Prisha said.

’Tell him.’

Alf’s eyes flicked down to hers. ‘Alf, they want you to come with them. They want to ask you some questions.’ Her throat turned hoarse. ‘There’s no other way, Alf.’

He barely blinked. No surprise. No protest. No emotion. Nothing except that usual intensity he reserved especially for Prisha.

‘You must be with me,’ he said.

Prisha’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You—you would go?’

‘Yes.’

Prisha hesitated. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to unlock her eyes from his. She didn’t want to go back. Slowly, she tore her eyes away.

‘He says I must come with him,’ she told Ralph.

‘We wouldn’t have it any other way. There is a car waiting.’

Prisha translated. Alf nodded.

‘Does he have any weapons?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ask him.’

‘Do you have any weapons, Alf?’

‘I cannot lie,’ was all he said.

‘No,’ she lied for him.

‘He wouldn’t mind if he removed his cloak?’

‘Alf, they want you to remove your cloak.’

Nothing crossed his face. No impatience or frustration, certainly no fear, as he dropped it to the ground like shimmering oil. One of the men quickly picked it up and checked it. Alf was wearing his usual tight grey suit that hid nothing.

‘Did you want to search him too?’ Prisha said sardonically.

The man handed his cloak back and Alf pulled it back on, lowering the hood over his face.

‘If you could follow me,’ Ralph said, gesturing them over.

The men stepped out of the way as Prisha and Alf followed.

’Oh, Alf, you are hurt!’

‘Minor,’ he said, limping beside her.

She wanted to wrap her arm around his waist to help him but he wouldn’t let go of her hand.

‘Let me help you,’ she said.

‘No. I am here to help you.’

Prisha was feeling strangely electrified. She hated the attention. She hated the feel of the men’s eyes. She hated not knowing their future. But Alf was here with her—and that meant everything was going to be all right.

Everything would be all right.