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Part 9 Sleep was not welcome that night for Martin Cummins. He tried to blot out the fact that Anne nearly lost her life, but somehow the image of her lying unconscious on the beach wouldn't leave him. He wouldn't be human if he could sleep soundly after something like that. His soul seemed unsettled and he knew he wouldn't feel right until Anne's spirit awoke from wherever it had gone. The essence of a person was an unusual thing, thought Martin as he forfeited sleep to contemplate on Anne's spirit. That night the spirit seemed the very thing to reflect on. Where did a person go, he wondered, when they were unconscious? Did the soul fly out of their body and travel wondrous places? Was the dream landscape an actual real location? Martin didn't know and it had his mind racing. Thrashing in bed was an oddity for him. Never before had he thought so much and so rapidly that his body couldn't, wouldn't give in to sleep. He knew he wanted sleep, needed sleep. But his body wasn't giving it to him. It was in times like this that Martin knew there had to be another reason he was awake. Something he needed to learn. Something he needed to do... tonight. And doing it tomorrow wouldn't be good enough. Then his thoughts flew to the person behind the almost tragedy. James Bourne. Even the name sounded vile on his tonge. Twice tonight he had tried to take a person's life. A person he had once loved. And twice Martin had stopped him. What did he want? And why was he on this vendetta against Anne? She was the sweetest person he'd ever met. Everyone seemed to love her... except for Helen who wasn't one to warm up easily to people who initially ignored her. In the midst of the worry spinning in his mind, he had to laugh. He wished he had been there when Helen and Anne first met. A smile lit his face, and for the first time in hours he felt tired. Martin reached for the clock and cradled it in his hands before returning it with a thump to the bedside table. 3:00 am. What kind of nitwit was awake at three o'clock when he had a ton of work to do tomorrow? When the crew finally arrived, he knew the makeup lady was going to give him hell for staying up all night. Footsteps padded down the hallway but Martin was oblivious to it. His eyes were drooping and his mind was surrendering to the blissful sleep he had daydreamed of all night. The footsteps journeyed closer until they stopped outside his room. The large oak door swung inward. Martin gave the slightest indication he might have heard a noise and then was swept back into unconsciousness. The footsteps tallied forward until they came to rest just beyond his bed. A hand carefully reached down and touched Martin's shoulder. At first he sloughed it off as an itch, but when the sensation came again he grabbed the hand jerked it toward him. In a flash he was awake and had the strategic advantage towering over the intruder with one fist snapped back ready to strike. "Martin? What are you doing?" Anne whispered, a look of horror on her face. Anne had wanted to check on Martin. She didn't know why really. She woke up and knew she had to see him. Before she realized it, she found herself in his bed on her back staring into eyes she didn't recognize. "Oh, my God, Anne." Martin's features softened and he fell back onto his pillow. "I thought you were Bourne." He sighed in relief. "I had a feeling that since he didn't kill you the first two times, he might try again. Third time being the charm and all." He turned his head and flashed her an uneasy smile. "You scared the beejeezies out of me." Anne smiled. "I scared you? I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest when you grabbed me." She massaged her wrist where he had held her so tightly. Martin rolled over to examine it bringing them both within inches of each other. He lightly rubbed his thumb over the area and glanced up into her eyes. In that moment time ceased. He had always heard about moments like this where it became obvious that you wanted her and she wanted you. He never realized until this very minute that things like this actually happened. Instinctively his hand moved to her face caressing it and she clung to him as if she were on the verge of falling. Slowly he ran his thumb over her lips and eyebrows. She tilted her head back and he knew he was lost. He attacked her neck with butterfly kisses trailing up until he reached her mouth. There was a magnetic attraction between the two of them. and before either of them knew it they were kissing. Neither knew how long they'd been slathering each other with affection. They only knew how much they enjoyed it. Martin pulled away first. "This isn't right. I don't want it to happen like this for the first time. I want it to be special." Anne smiled and she tried to hide the droop in her eyes. "I want it to be special too," she whispered slowly before falling asleep on his shoulder. Martin gazed down at her wiping a stray hair from her forehead. "It will happen soon enough. No need to rush," he said, more to himself than to her. A minute later his body gave into exhaustion as well and they slept peacefully the rest of the night in each other's arms. *** James Bourne watched the festivities from outside the actor's window. He could kill them both right now if he wanted. But that would be too easy. He wanted to make a game of it. "Tomorrow," he grunted. "Tomorrow, I am the cat and YOU are the mouse." Quietly
he unhitched the latch on the window and leaned in leaving a present
on the bedside table. It wan't much. Only a small token from the
past but it was very elaborately wrapped in a small gold box with
a silver tag protruding from it. The tag read: to my dear Anne.
He tried hard not to laugh. He only wished he could be here when
she opened her gift. It would be enlightening. Very enlightening
indeed. Part 10 The next morning Martin found sleep intoxicating. It was as if he wanted to continue sleeping the rest of the day away, but his body wouldn't allow him. Then he remembered exactly why he didn't want to slumber a minute longer. Anne was with him. And today would be a beginning for both of them. First thing he needed to do was make her forget about James Bourne then lead her to realize the man hadn't actually died. Martin hoped with all his acting ability he'd be up to the challenge of making Anne forget, but if Derek and Robbi had a few pointers to offer... he'd take anything he could get. The knock on his door came sooner than he expected. "Shooting starts in an hour, Mr. Cummins," said a voice from the other side. The voice sounded familiar, probably that of Derek's assistant and if it was Maria, then that meant the crew had made it from the mainland. Martin groaned and rolled over. "All, right. All right." he exclaimed with as much emotion as he could conjure at such an early hour. "Give me a minute." Footsteps receded down the hallway and Martin knew he was alone again, well, as alone as he could be with a beautiful woman in his bed. As he turned to put a protective arm over Anne, he discovered only cold sheets. He bolted upright and scanned the room. What had happened to her, he wondered. She was there last night. And he hadn't heard her leave. For a moment he considered that last night was all a figment of his imagination but he couldn't accept that. It was real. It had really happened. *** Derek de Lint and Robbi Chong sat opposite each other in the castle dining room sipping coffee and eating breakfast from the craft services cart. Robbi nibbled on a powered donut as Derek piled his plate with bacon and eggs. "How can you eat like that?" Robbi asked popping the remainder of the donut into her mouth. "Look who's talking?" Derek laughed. "I have a high metabolism plus I work out every other day. I can afford to splurge once in a while. You on the other hand, can eat anything you like and not gain an ounce. I envy you." Robbi grabbed another donut. Powder misted over the table and the top of her dark hand. She licked her fingers and tore the confection in half. "Oh, I still have to exercise, but I'm just not one of those gym girls. I prefer to do it in the comfort of my own hotel room." Martin walked in the room and both Derek and Robbi glanced up as he entered. "Morning Sunshine," Robbi remarked wiping white powder from her lips. "Sounds like you're having a party in here. What's up?" Martin asked. "Not a party," Derek corrected. "Just pleasant morning conversation." "Martin's lucky to grunt out ëcoffee' at this hour," Robbi said trying to hold her smile in. She didn't succeed. "I'm surprised you're up." Derek's eyes gleamed at the black woman's comment. "You two are just a riot. By the way, where *is* the coffee?" Robbi pointed toward the pot and Martin made a bee-line for it. "Have either of you two seen Anne? I checked her room this morning but she seems to have disappeared." "No, I haven't seen her since you brought her in last night. Has she recovered from her injuries already?" Derek placed his fork on the rim of his plate and abandoned the remainder of his food. "What are you talking about? Did something happen to Anne too?" "While you were in with the doctor and Elouise, Martin brought in Anne. She nearly drowned." Derek quickly related the genesis of the story while Martin filled his coffee cup. "I have to admit. I was spooked there for awhile," Martin said. "Have either of you seen her since last night?" Robbi asked. Derek shook his head and Martin remained curiously silent. "I take that as a yes?" Robbi laughed. "I guess we know what *you* were doing last night." "Leave the poor boy alone, Robbi. He's young. He can't help his raging hormones." "Boy, ask a simple question, get the fifth degree." Martin gulped down a big swig of coffee as a smiling Derek and Robbi looked on. "Nothing happened." "I knew it!" Robbi exclaimed. "You *do* like her." "He likes who?" Helen asked, sweeping into the room and capturing a seat next to Robbi. "Anne." Derek replied simply. "You like her? I don't know Martin, that girl give me a bad feeling," Helen said harshly. "Helen, everyone gives you a bad feeling. It'll pass. She's really a nice girl," Martin said coming quickly to Anne's defense. "Well, I guess you *are* smitten then." "What is this? Three against one? Give me a break!" Martin rose from his seat next to Derek. "I think I'll go back to my room. I have some lines to learn and a girl to find. Call me when you're ready." With that, Martin stalked out of the dining room. "Was it something we said?" Helen asked glancing curiously at her two cast mates. "No, I'm sure as soon as he finds out Anne is all right he'll be back to his normal self again." Derek pulled a script out from his leather satchel. "Let's go over the blocking one more time." ***Martin ran lines through his head. He was particularly stumped on one phrase which didn't sound quite right. He began vocally testing out each syllable. If the words didn't roll off his tongue naturally, he tried them in different variations until the quick retort embodied his character, Nick's personality. Finally, after a few minutes, he found the correct intonation and congratulated himself by grabbing a beer from the mini fridge on the far side of the room. As he popped the top off and swilled a big swig, he contemplated on the recent news he'd heard the crew talking about before they'd come to the island. Their popular poltergeist-esque show apparently wasn't so popular any more - it had been canceled. And ever since the curious development he discovered he was experiencing mixed feelings about the soon to be filmed last episode. On one hand he had come to think of Derek, Robbi and Helen, even Kristen as far as that went, as his extended family. Hell, he spent more time with them than with anyone else. Even his many girlfriends had suffered from his dedication to his job as Nick Boyle, super paranormal ghostbuster. Now all he could think about was how much he was going to cherish the next few weeks. It would be all the time he'd have left to spend with the cast and crew. After it was over, they'd all go their separate ways. Oh, they'd promise to keep in touch but Martin knew that even with all their good intentions-- they never would. And that was the saddest part of all. It was a scary new step forward, and he didn't know if he was ready for the journey. He felt a conflict of both bittersweet and anger in his chest. It was one of the few emotions he could bring forth into fruition. It was a good thing too since the scene he was memorizing had Nick blasting Derek for something petty. It felt good to get the anger out in the open, where he could see it, and deal with it. The other emotion he had a healthy hand on was worry. He wasn't so successful translating that into his scene though. Nick wasn't much about worrying, he was more about action. That rang true for himself as well, usually. The more Martin thought about Anne's unexpected disappearance the more he suspected foul play, and the more he worried. Martin pulled another long drawl on the bottle and fell back onto the mattress. The springs ached with his weight and soon became silent again. Leaning back against the headboard, Martin accidentally knocked something from the nightstand. He inwardly cursed and reached down for whatever had fallen to the floor. Sitting silently in a toppled gold gift box was a very large black spider. A spider who plainly didn't appreciate being stuffed into such a small space. Now, Martin wasn't one to be afraid of a small thing like a spider but this spider wasn't so small, and it also wasn't so easily crushed. It scurried away from him in an eight legged blur, then sprung toward him. Martin involuntarily vaulted to the far side of the bed crawling backward away from the furry predator. He moaned a terrified grunt and gasped trying to clear his heart from his throat. Like a man on a trampoline, the spider landed only inches from where it had leaped. Then as if deciding Martin was too frightening, it scurried under the bed searching for safety among the dust bunnies. A hearty sigh escaped Martin's lips and he reached down once again to retrieve the fallen item. Now that the gold box was left empty and abandoned, a small note was clearly visible hidden inside its depths. It read: You know who this is from. You know where I'll be Meet me after day break. Where we can settle this. Once and for all. J.B. Martin stared at the cryptic message. How could Anne possibly know where Bourne would be? All of her past experiences with him had been in St. Louis not San Francisco. He didn't have enough information about their past history together to be jumping to such a conclusion. Hell, he didn't know Anne well enough to be kissing on her much less psycho-analyzing her past. But there was one person who could enlighten him... Elouise! Without her help, he didn't know what would happen to Anne. To be continued
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