Steve arrived to a body that was miles apart from the one he’d just left. This body was, for one thing, starving. For another, he felt the effects of some kind of sedative in his system. Whatever that drug was, it did not play nicely with the jump effect, and for the first time since these jumps began he could not control his nausea and threw up on arrival. He sat bolt upright from the prone position this body had been in, leaned over and let go with regret, hoping no one was in his crossfire. With no food in his stomach, it was nothing more than dry heaves, but his stomach muscles contracted violently, reacting to the mix of vertigo and sedative. And something else, too … the unmistakable feeling of buoyancy. He was on a boat.
Steve groaned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Kayla!” he yelled.
Immediately a narrow door to his left swung open, and he got a look at where he was for the first time. It was a bare room save for the cot he’d been laying on. Maybe 8×10 with a tiny door in the corner that he assumed was attached to a head. And what’s more, Steve didn’t recognize it at all. He’d been on plenty of boats, but this wasn’t any of the rooms on any of the boats he remembered. Where the hell am I? Where’s Kayla?
A huge man walked in through the metal door and fixed him with a look of reproach. “You tryin’ to get yourself more of that super Nyquil, Johnson?” The man’s voice completely bellied his threatening exterior in both tone and inflection. “Seriously, man, I can only do so much, here! Dreaming in the dead of night is one thing, but screaming her name in broad daylight like that? Today of all days? Are you mental?!” The man was letting him have it in a scolding whisper. “Now, stop with that Kayla sh*t or they’ll make me force it down your throat, ok?” Steve just stared, desperately trying to place him but failing. The man who looked like he was built out of a brick wall but spoke like he was a harmless Kindergarten teacher gave him a weird look back. “What?”
“N-Nothing.” Steve was stumped, afraid to say the wrong thing. He couldn’t imagine where this was and who was holding him captive … on a boat.
“Then stop looking at me like ya just seen ghost, huh? F*ck, man, Jeez!”
“Sorry.” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but a cold fear ran down Steve’s spine as a possibility occurred to him. There were whole chunks of his memory that had not come back. There was nothing about his life before he’d been taken that he didn’t remember, but all that time from his supposed death until he became DiMera’s soldier was a complete blank. Never did come back. He remembered bits and pieces of working for DiMera, and he remembered all of his time as Nick Stockton. But that time while he was still with Alamain? There were flashes and images that amounted to a whole lot of nothing; he recalled them more like states of mind than anything else. So, for all intents and purposes, that time is his memory was simply missing. Gone. Steve carefully adjusted his patch, which was there, and ran his hand through his hair, which, apparently, had been cut short. He subtly scratched his left cheek and noted no scar. He realized with dread that this was definitely the time after he’d “died.” That meant he was flying blind; no memory of how anything went the first time, how he was supposed to act, or where exactly he was.
Just then another man entered. Maybe 50, short, brown, receding hairline, nothing remarkable about him. “So, how’s our patient, Tiny?” he asked with an even nature.
“Just fine. No issues.”
“Really? Then why’s he looking right at me?” Then he crossed his arms and looked down upon Steve. “Tell me, do you know your name?”
Steve was wary and had no idea what his best course of action was, telling the truth or faking it. “Steven Johnson,” he said calmly. “Yours?”
“Ah,” he replied. Then he turned to the guard. “See the problem? If he doesn’t eat, no meds. If there are no meds, we can’t achieve our goal. That won’t do, will it, Tiny?”
“Sorry, Dr. Hopkins, but he knows the stuff is in there and won’t eat.”
“Yes, well you need to do a little something about that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You going to be a good patient for us, Mr. Johnson?”
“More like your prisoner,” he replied. Where is Kayla right now? I don’t even know where she is. Did she sell the house yet? Steve wanted to take in more of his surroundings, but he didn’t take his eye off the doctor.
The guard named Tiny shook his head behind the doctor and mouthed what are you doing?
“Mr. Johnson, Mr. Alamain’s tried to make you his guest, but all you do is fight us. Lucky for me, you’re going to be somebody else’s problem very shortly. Now, you eat this sandwich or we’ll put the manacles back on and go back to shoving it down that throat of yours.”
Dr. Hopkins looked away toward Tiny, and Steve took that opportunity to inventory the room, try to figure out the best way to the deck. He had to get out of here. He’d never been good in captivity. But being on the water gave him some hope; the man knew his way around a boat.
“Tiny, we’re making the switch as soon as his new owners arrive. They’re about two hours out,” Dr. Hopkins said as he handed a vial to the guard. “Until then, get this in him or it’ll make the transfer that much more painful for you. Better to control him.”
“Right,” Tiny said.
New owners … Dimera. Kayla thinks I’m dead. My whole family thinks I’m dead. Steve’s mind raced.
Just then another guard entered and handed Dr. Hopkins a cell phone, the likes of which could only be described as a brick. Steve had seen laptops smaller than this industrial, beige thing with the huge plastic-coated, built-in antenna. It struck him so funny he started laughing. Dr. Hopkins, having no clue what was so funny, shot Tiny an insulted yet commanding look that resulted in the huge guard meeting Steve’s face with a right cross that made him see stars and dislodged his patch from its normal resting spot.
Steve fell backwards onto the cot. He groaned and tears from the pure searing pain rimmed his eye. He cradled his jaw, righted his patch, and said, “great.”
“Sorry, Johnson,” Tiny barely whispered to him. “I always pull my punches with you, but I think I really felt the crack that time.”
“You wanna make it up to me,” Steve whispered, get me out of here.”
Tiny frowned. “I didn’t hear that,” then he turned and stood in the corner while Hopkins took whatever call this was.
“Is he lucid,” Steve could hear the voice tinny but clear on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”
“Just stick the needle in him and be done with it.”
“It’s not that easy, Mr. Alamain”
Alamain. Still Alamain. How long have I been gone?
“The patient needs to ingest it for the full effect, and he’s been on a veritable hunger strike. We’ve got enough in him to be tired, but I’m sorry, he definitely knows who he is and who he’s with. But he’s responding to a lower dosage, so that ‘s good news for tonight’s exchange.”
“Very well,” the voice said. “Is the warehouse clean?”
“Cleaners finished the job before we left.”
“Good. Get him transferred, then get out of Salem.”
Salem! I’m home? It was better than he’d hoped for.
“Donovan and Johnson’s widow are getting too close with that lab of theirs, and unfortunately I have to deal with these ridiculous rape charges, so I cannot be there for it myself. Don’t mess this up.”
The reference to Kayla made his heart skip a beat, and the word rape did nothing to ease his anxiety. What had Kayla told him about what happened to Alamain after they took him? He knew the answers but couldn’t call them up, his mind was in chaos not knowing the first thing about when he was. Steve had to get out of there. He formed a plan in his head and tested as many scenarios as he could in the short time he had. If he was in Salem somewhere on the river, he was going to have to swim for it.
Dr. Hopkins ended the call and handed it back to the second guard, who left abruptly. He gave some final orders to Tiny regarding Steve’s proper care and feeding, then left without another word to his prisoner. When they were alone again, Tiny turned to Steve.
“Gonna miss our talks,” Tiny said. “Ya know, when you was talking.” Then he brought out a Baby Ruth from his inside pocket. “Here. One for the road now that I don’t have to save you from your starvation diet, anymore, either.”
“Starvation diet?”
“Yeah, I’m amazed you lasted as long as you did on the candy bars and beef jerky,” he laughed softly. “Thanks for not ratting me out. Then again, if you did you wouldn’t eat, wouldja!” The guard laughed like he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.
Steve tried to piece it all together as he eyed the completely uneaten food sitting on a tray against the wall next to him. Hopkins … Hopkins … the name rang a bell. Simon Hopkins? No, he was dead, completely different guy. But he’d said something about the food being drugged and Steve refusing to eat it. Looks like the guard had taken pity on his prisoner and snuck him in some food.
“Tiny, tell me somethin’,” Steve said, his head clearing more each minute. “Why you so nice to me?”
“I like ya, Johnson! You listen to my stories, helped me with the car trouble … you know I’m terrible with cars.”
Why the hell’d I help him? Did I go all Stockholm Syndrome or something? “Yeah, right, I remember,” Steve lied. “So, I got sold, huh?”
“You know you did. This is our last day. Good luck, hope your new life works out for ya. Gonna miss that old warehouse.”
Warehouse … Steve filed that away.
“Tiny, since this is it for us, I have a couple questions. Think you could just humor me? Old time’s sake?”
Tiny opened the door a crack and looked outside, then closed it back up. “Ok,” he said grudgingly, but make ‘em fast, I’ve gotta get this vial tossed overboard. Unless you want it?”
“No, thanks,” he said with the same good humor that the suspected the guard had intended as he opened up the Baby Ruth. “What year is it?”
“Well, I’m here to tell ‘em, that drug works at least a little,” Tiny muttered. Then to Steve he said, “1991. “Remember?”
“Right, right,” Steve said.
“Been seven months, that’s a long assignment for me. But after you kicked out the first guy’s teeth, ya know, they needed me to keep you in line.”
Steve was absorbing it all like a sponge. “Yeah, that was something back in … Jeez, when was that, now …?”
“October, man, you weren’t even out of that hospital basement yet. They had you gagged and tied down to the gurney by the time they assigned me to you. The boss, he wouldn’t let ‘em kill you, so I got to hear a lot of Kayla, Kayla, Kayla for a while. And you know how Hopkins feels about that. You was supposed to be forgettin’, ya know. Thought Alamain was gonna blow his top when he seen how you wasn’t all zombiefied.” Then the huge man held his arms out and groaned in a mummy imitation. “Good thing, too, or I’d’a never figured they was the spark plugs,” he laughed. “Anyways, then it was off to the warehouse to prep you for the new owner, but then there was all those problems and he kept delaying. It was so weird.”
“My memory is going, how many problems was that? Two …”
“Two?! At least five. He had the wedding, the fake earthquake, then that thing with his dad, then he had to come here and fix it all. Now with the latest thing, I’m surprised he’s doing the exchange, but best to just get it done, I suppose.”
Steve was perplexed. He had a ton of new information, but not a lot to glean from it that would get him out of there. So he went for broke.
“Tiny, if you like me so much, why haven’t you ever just let me go? It would have saved you on candy bars, at least,” he said swallowing the last of it.”
“Boss would kill me. You know that.”
“Not if I overpowered you.” Tiny gave him a look that said, Really? Come on. “Look, I could have hit you over the head.”
Tiny didn’t really like where this was going. “Don’t make it any harder, Johnson. And don’t think I’m gonna look the other way, I need the paycheck with the baby comin’.”
“What about my baby?! I haven’t seen her in … man, she’s over a year old. I missed her birthday.” Steve was still playing Tiny, but this bit was genuine.
“Look, it’s outta my hands,” he said with regret, but also a healthy dose of finality. Tiny may have felt sorry for him and fed him, but he was not going to be turning any cheeks. Steve was on his own, knowing he’d have to swim ashore and hope to God he wasn’t found.
Kayla … Stephanie. Gotta get to my girls.
Steve’s jaw was hurting from the power packed into Tiny’s blow. He rubbed it with his hand, and Tiny apologized for the punch again. “Don’t make ‘em mad over there. There’s a lot meaner.” The hairs raised on the back of Steve’s neck. That he remembered. “Good luck, Johnson.” Then Tiny turned and walked out.
Steve shot up and tested his bearings. He felt pretty good other than the jaw. He went into the head and saw it was devoid of anything but a toilet and sink. No mirror, no toothbrush, nothing that could be used as a weapon. The only loose items at all were the cot, the tray, and the items on the tray. Not so much as a plastic fork. He ran his hands through his hair again, and it felt really weird. “That’s some short hair, dude,” he said to himself. “Probably trying to hide you.” He picked up the tray, ready to wield it if necessary, then listened at the door. The coast seemed clear. He reached for the doorknob, and that’s when he saw his wrists. They were scarred with rope burns. The reality of what had happened to him hit him like a ton of bricks. On a hunch he lifted the jeans he wore and saw that his ankles were the same. Taking a cursory look at the rest of his body, it seemed fine, but those rope burn scars were serious, and they were telling. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t have the time.
Steve opened the door, poked his head out, and could tell immediately that this was a large fishing boat. Larger than Shawn Brady’s, but not as big as a yacht. He knew boats like this well and knew exactly where to go. The air was warm, and the sun was shining on a beautiful day. Steve shoved the tray into the back of his jeans and headed for the rail.
Just as he was thinking this was way too easy, the second guard who’d brought the ancient cell phone rounded the corner fast and ran into him. They stared at each other frozen in shock for a moment. The guard made the first move and had a taser in his hand so fast it made Steve’s head spin. Steve’s reactions were slow, but he still reached for the tray quicker than the taser could meet him and smacked the guard with such force over the head that he broke the skin on his forehead. Steve absently registered that it takes a lot of rage to open up a gash on someone’s head with a smooth tray, but he didn’t feel bad in the least. He’d been held for seven months, and his girls thought he was dead. “I’m gonna set this right, too, asshole,” he whispered to the quickly passing out guard. But before he hit the deck, Steve grabbed him by the arm holding the taser and shoved it into him, then stepped back. The man shook with electrical charge and fell to the ground. Steve looked around frantically. No one presented themselves, so he pushed the incapacitated guard to the edge and dragged him overboard. He needed to get rid of any evidence, give him the best chance to make it to the docks.
It wasn’t till he looked up that he saw that it wasn’t going to be too much of a problem, as the closest one was easily swimmable. He also saw Tiny and Dr. Hopkins at the other end of the boat with their backs to him. Without another moment of thought, Steve took another quick look back and forth, then dove into the river and swam like he’d never swam before.
Despite being sure they would be immediately after him, he made it to the pier in one piece. He smiled as he realized that not only did he make it to relative safety, but this was near where they got married. Unfortunately, it took him triple the time it should have. This body was damaged, no question about it. Malnourished, so hungry even right now, too thin, and deprived of exercise and sunlight for more than half a year. Yet other than the scars at his wrists and ankles he seemed ok on the outside.
He gasped for air and anxiously adjusted his patch every other minute, the only coping mechanism he had at the moment. He held on to the slimy pylon of the pier and had no choice but to let himself bob up and down in the water while he caught his breath. The emotions roiling in him were all over the map. Anger, fear, worry, and utter disorientation with no frame of reference for this time. He had to find his Kayla. He’d just been holding her in Italy, and despite the terrible and emotionally draining experience of that one, he was a happy man when he jumped. He’d fixed a terrible mistake, Kayla had told him she was pregnant, and his Kayla had arrived with her arms around him. Now he was in a tortured body that could barely swim 70 yards without passing out.
The sounds of distant shouting spurned him on. He had no idea if it was Alamain’s boat or some random set of people on the pier, but it was enough to get him out of the water.
He found a ladder and hoisted himself with great difficulty out of the river. He then proceeded to hide under the boards to take stock and figure out how to get home. He knew his apartment couldn’t be home base in this time, and he made a mental note to talk to Kayla about finding different home bases for the right timeframes.
He was at a bit of a loss as to where to go. Everyone in this time thought he was dead. He had no idea where Kayla would be right now. The fish market was so close, he considered going there, but he was afraid he’d scare the living daylights out of the Brady’s. He also thought about going to the Emergency Center, but he didn’t know for sure exactly what month this was, and remembering what she told him about how long she was still there was spotty at best. He thought about going a lot of places; Marcus’s house, Shane’s house, the cop shop … but what he really wanted to was to go home. His house. That’s what he wanted. But he thought Kayla had sold the house by now. Steve’s mind was reeling; it was the first time he had no idea where he belonged. He finally decided to go to the Emergency Center and hope and pray that Kayla or Marcus were there and that Kayla had jumped into herself by now. If she hadn’t, it was going to be quite a shock for her.
Steve was getting cold, so he rolled up the wet sleeves of the denim shirt, then went to slick back his hair and realized he didn’t need to do that with this short cut. He was in the trendy area of the riverfront that had been built up recently just on the edge of the shipping district. He knew it wouldn’t take long to get to the Emergency Center, so he took another few minutes to make sure no one had followed him. Then when he felt as confident as he was going to feel, he started walking.
It didn’t take long for him to hear it. Laughter. He knew the sound of that laughter, it belonged to Kayla, and it sailed to his ears like the voice of an angel. It had been at least an hour since he’d arrived in this body, maybe more, he’d lost track of real time. But he could tell that her voice was strong and confident. This Kayla was not winging it. He whipped around looking for the source of it. Finally he saw her about 20 yards away. She looked so different; he almost didn’t recognize her with her short hair. His friend, and brother-in-law, Shane, was there, too. Upon seeing them lean against the side of one of the buildings, a relief washed through him that was indescribable. Seeing them was like panicking that you got on the wrong plane, then realizing you’re on the right flight, after all. His eyes rested on Kayla talking animatedly to Shane. He’d never seen her this way. He didn’t know these clothes, even her makeup was different. She was so pretty in her white blouse with lace on the bottom.
Steve resisted the urge to run to her. This was 1991 Kayla, and he knew that if he just appeared to her that she might pass out like she did at the cemetery. No instead he’d wait for her to arrive. Until then he watched.
As he carefully covered some of the distance toward them to get a better view, it struck him that Kayla looked … not unhappy, and he felt a little guilty for thinking it. He’d been gone for seven months, and he just assumed from what she’d told him that she would have still been shut off from people, simply going through the motions that were necessary to keep she and Stephanie going. He wanted to go to her, but his Kayla wasn’t there yet, so he held back and just watched for a moment as she and Shane headed to a bench. He saw them start to put on the roller skates as they shared a good-natured conversation.
“Oh yeah, at your ripe old age you wouldn’t want to try anything new,” Kayla said with a smirk. Then she let out an “Ooh,” as she sat down that reminded Steve of how bubbly his wife really was.
“Age has nothing to do with it,” Shane replied.
Steve was surprised that the two of them were socializing, as they weren’t on the same friendly level that, say, she and Marcus were. A thought tried to weed up to him that he subconsciously refused to allow to grow. He watched them continue the witty banter, and the tone of the conversation turned to something that made him very uncomfortable.
“Will you leave me alone?” Shane said in mock annoyance.
“Are you kidding, I can’t wait to see that incredible muscle tone, balance, and what was that other thing? Oh right, muscle tone,” she teased.
“Yeah.” Shane took the ribbing, and Kayla laughed. Steve didn’t like it.
“Oh no,” she said.
“Oh, what now?”
“Knots.” Was she flirting?
“Knots?”
“The laces are full of knots.”
“Let me have a look.” When Shane reached over and patted the outside of her upper thigh to encourage her to lift her leg onto his lap, Steve’s blood pressure flew to a heightened level. It only got worse when she swung her leg up to comply. He’s touching her.
As Shane got the knot out, Steve saw his wife look upon this man that he considered one of his closest friends with sweet eyes then tousle his hair. Steve’s heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his throat. The next thing that happened defied explanation. Shane leaned back over his shoulder to look at Kayla with eyes that clearly loved her as more than his sister-in-law, then she leaned into him, and kissed him. She kissed him. A deep, probing kiss that only those with some kind of feelings for each other give. Steve leaned against the wood paneling of the building he was standing next to and felt his hand ball itself into a fist as Kayla broke the kiss and gave a contented little sigh.
“You know,” Shane said, “I think this just might be quite fun after all.” Then he turned and kissed her again.
Steve had never seen so much fire. It was the proverbial train wreck that he couldn’t look away from. That man was kissing his wife. His brother-in-law … his friend … was kissing his wife. And suddenly the puzzle pieces that had begun to show themselves back at the Loft fell into place to form a complete picture. It was Shane. Shane Donovan was name of the man that she’d tried and failed to move on with. The name she’d kept from him. Well from what he saw, she wasn’t trying that hard. From what he saw, she was pretty content, licking her lips of his kiss, taking his tongue in her mouth, letting his hand slide up and down her leg, sighing in satisfaction. Steve felt sick. Never had he wanted to jump so desperately as he did right now. A kick in the gut would have been preferable to the pain that was searing its way through him. Jealousy, hatred, hurt … betrayal. He hadn’t been dead to her for a year, and already she had found someone else, that someone was Shane, her sister’s husband, and the worst of it, she’d kept it from him.
How? How could a love like theirs be so easily overcome? How could it be done so quickly? How could it be with Shane? And how could she have not told him for the three years since he’d come back?
Steve had fallen through a rabbit hole so dark and so deep that he was positively consumed in black.
He didn’t know his legs had begun to move when Steve found himself slowly making his way toward them. His body was on autopilot, the rage building within him. The fact that Lawrence Alamain’s men were surely on the hunt for him was the furthest thing from his mind as Kayla and Shane stood up hand in hand.
It was Shane who saw Steve first. Kayla was facing Shane and putting a steadying hand on him when she saw the look of shock register on his face. “What is it,” she asked him with a giggle, “the wheels on your feet too much for ya there?” When Shane didn’t answer, she realized that he’d become deeply affected by something he was seeing over her shoulder.
“Steve?” Shane said incredulously. Kayla lost her good humor immediately and frowned. “My God, Steve!”
Steve was sure that he actually saw the shiver that ran down Kayla’s spine. She turned around on the skates, and when her eyes found him, she took a quick intake of breath. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his Kayla was arriving, but he knew that was not the case. Her eyes were wide with shock, and he watched them instantly fill with tears.
She spoke as he looked upon Shane; he couldn’t look at her. “Am I dreaming?” she asked shakily. “Am I dreaming? Or am I dead, too?”
Shane couldn’t believe the sight before him. “I think we’re all very much alive, Kayla,” Shane assured her. He had a wary tone to his voice; it didn’t escape him that Steve hadn’t taken his very dangerous eye off of him. Something made him put his hands protectively on her shoulders.
Just then Kayla stiffened, and Shane felt it.
“Kayla,” he said, gripping her shoulders with enough affection and concern that it drove Steve out of his mind. “Are you alright?”
Steve found his voice. “Oh, you’re gonna love this, Donovan. Bloody good show comin’.”