Dark Museum

Ajay

The slick, black wafer was a telephone, but without buttons on the front or sides, nothing indicated how to turn it on; waving at the tiny camera lenses on the back accomplished nothing.

He sat alone on the curb in front of the motel. The people at the end of the parking lot were only concerned with getting their luggage from their SUV to the open motel room. Their two children screamed about who had to carry the last bag.

Angel and Diya, these so-called experts of the future, treated the devices like they were part of their bodies. Angel had taken an extra up and down at Ajay before he let the thing go.

Tapping the front screen lit it up.

A large clock (4:23pm) made up the screen's focal point, bordered on either side by small, colorful squares. At the bottom of the screen, a row of icons stood apart against a black bar: a telephone receiver, a compass, a speech bubble, and a music note.

Touching the telephone icon clenched his stomach.

Nasir had been in the woods the night before when Josh was taken.

"What are you doing here?" Ajay had whispered, backed against a tree. Even in the low light of the forest, he recognized his stunt double, the one who should have taken the car hit. The person whose absence nearly killed him.

"Never mind. We've got your friend." Nasir said, in Urdu. "I'll pretend you weren't here, but if my friends find you, I won't be able to help you. I'll go for your family if you mention me. They still live in Bandra."

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Ajay dialed his home number in India. The dial tone purred.

"Hello?"

Ajay didn't recognize the man.

"Ajay Kapoor here. Who is speaking, please?"

"I've had it with you people terrorizing me like this. Who is this?"

"I told you who I am. I'm calling my own house and I'm looking for my wife."

The man switched to angry, rapid-fire Hindi. "This has been my number for nearly a decade. I'll be damned if I keep being bothered by you asshole pranksters. I don't believe in ghosts. Even if I knew where Radha Kapoor was, I'd never give out her information so she can be terrorized too. Leave me alone, sister-fucker."

The man hung up.

Ajay put the phone on the curb beside him and pressed his eyes with his fingers. He needed to get back to India and find his family. Warn them in person. Nothing else mattered.

More than that, he wanted to go home.

Leaving meant Sophia would never learn what happened to Josh. The least he could do was tell her, but going back into that hotel room meant they'd talk him out of leaving for India. They'd want his testimony, and frankly, he didn't have time to wait on the judicial system to let him go. For a case to drag on for months with him doing exactly what Nasir told him not to: telling someone.

He opened the phone again. The NOTES icon on the first screen seemed like as good a place as any to start; he tapped it.

Of course, leaving a note about Josh would trigger his family's danger, too; maybe Ajay would have enough head start before Nasir found out.

After opening a new note document, he pecked the letters, Josh wasn't rescued.

Ajay stared at the harsh words, gathering the courage to admit what he did.

We were attacked when we went to find help. He was captured and they said they'd kill my family if I told anyone. I've got to go home and warn them. I'm sorry I lied. Forgive me.