Zig Zag (3 page)

Blonde-haired
and wide-eyed, she was one of the few women in a class full of young
men. Elisa was pleased that she'd been the first to take things
seriously.

"Your
example is unfair," Yolanda said. "The coin is
three-dimensional. Even though it's not very tall, it does possess
height. If it had been drawn inside the box, like it should have
been, you couldn't have stolen it."

Intense
whispering. Elisa, who was ready for this, feigned surprise so as not
to dishearten her clever student.

"Good
point, Yolanda. And you're right. Good science is based on that kind
of observation: apparently simple, yet vital. However, even if the
coin had been drawn onto the paper, like the man and the square, I
still could have erased it." Laughter erupted, keeping her from
continuing for a few seconds. Five, to be exact.

Though
she didn't know it, she had twelve seconds left before her entire
life would blow up around her.

The
big clock on the wall at the back of the class showed the time. Elisa
glanced at it quickly, never suspecting that the long hand sweeping
across the clock's face had begun a countdown to what would destroy
her present and her future.

Forever.
Irreversibly.

"What
I want you to see," she continued, patting the air to indicate
that they should simmer down, oblivious to everything but the
wavelength that she and her students were on, "is that different
dimensions can affect each other, in one way or another. Let me give
you another example."

When
she was planning class, she'd initially intended to draw this example
on the board. But now she saw the newspaper folded on the lectern. On
days when she had class, she always bought the paper at the kiosk on
the way into campus and then read it in the cafeteria afterward. Now
it occurred to her that her students might understand this next
example better (it was far more complicated) if she used an object
instead.

She
opened the paper to a page at random and spread it out. "Imagine
that this piece of newspaper is a spatial plane..."

She
glanced down to extract the page without messing up the rest of the
paper. And saw it.

Horror
is quick. We can be horrified before we're even aware of it. Before
we realize why, our hands tremble, the blood drains from our face,
something falls to the pit of our stomach. Elisa had glanced
momentarily at one of the headlines on the upper-right-hand side of
the page, and, even before understanding what it meant, she felt a
rush of adrenaline and froze.

She
took in the basic information in a matter of seconds. But those
seconds were eternal. While they lasted, she was barely aware of her
students' existence, of the fact that they'd all fallen silent and
were waiting for her to continue. That they'd begun to realize that
something was not right, to nudge one another, clear their throats,
turn around to glance questioningly at each other.

A
new Elisa looked up and confronted the silent expectancy she'd given
rise to.

"Uh,
so ... Imagine that I fold the plane here," she continued
unfalteringly, in the monotonous voice of an automaton.

Without
knowing how, she carried on. She wrote equations on the board, solved
them effortlessly, asked questions, and gave additional examples. It
was a heroic, superhuman feat that no one seemed to pick up on. Or
did they? She wondered if Yolanda, ever attentive in the front row,
had noted the panic coursing through her.

"Let's
leave it here for today," she said, when there were five minutes
of class left. "I warn you that from here on out, everything is
going to get much more complicated," she added, trembling at the
irony of her words.

HER
office
was at the end of the hall. Luckily, her colleagues were all busy and
she didn't bump into anyone on her way back. She walked in, closed
the door, locked it, sat down at her desk, opened the newspaper, and
almost tore the page, inspecting it as carefully as someone poring
over a list of dead, praying not to find a loved one's name but
knowing, inevitably, that it will jump out as if in another color.

The
news offered almost no details, just the probable date of the
incident: it hadn't been discovered until the following day, but it
seemed likely it had taken place Monday, sometime during the night of
March 9, 2015.

The
day before yesterday.

She
couldn't breathe.

Just
then, a shadow filled the frosted glass of her office door.

Though
she knew it had to be something run of the mill (a cleaner, a
colleague), Elisa stood up, unable to utter a word.
You're
next.

The
shadow stood motionless before her door. She heard the sound of the
lock.

Elisa
was not a coward; she was tremendously brave, in fact. But at that
moment a child's laughter could have sent shivers down her spine. She
felt something cold on her back and realized that she'd unconsciously
backed so far up that she was pressed against the wall. Long, damp
hair half-covered her sweaty face.

Finally,
the door opened.

Sometimes
terror is almost like death, a dry run that momentarily strips away
your voice, your sight, your vital functions, and for as long as it
lasts, you can't breathe, can't think, your heart stops beating. At
that horrific moment, that was what happened to Elisa. When the man
saw her, he started. It was Pedro, one of the custodians. He held a
ring of keys and a stack of mail.

"Oh.
Sorry. I didn't realize you were in here. I just thought... since you
never come straight back after class ... OK if I come in? I was just
going to leave you your mail."

Elisa
murmured something. Pedro smiled, walked in, and dropped the stack of
envelopes on her desk. Then he left, though not without first
glancing down at the paper and at Elisa's face. She didn't care.
Actually, his sudden interruption had helped her shake off the
feeling of absolute terror that had overcome her.

She
suddenly realized exactly what she had to do.

She
folded up the paper, stuck it in her bag, flicked through the mail
(internal memos and correspondence from other universities, nothing
she had to deal with immediately), and walked out.

Above
all, she had to save her life.

02

VICTOR
Lopera's
office was right across from hers. Victor, who had just arrived, was
taking moderate pleasure in photocopying the rebus from the morning
paper. He was a huge fan of rebuses, riddles, word games, and
puzzles, and had whole albums full of things he'd taken from the
Internet, newspapers, and magazines. As the sheet of paper slid into
its tray, he heard the knock on his door. "Yep?"

The
change in his mild expression when he saw Elisa was barely even
perceptible. His dark, bushy eyebrows raised slightly, and beneath
his glasses and smooth-shaven cheeks the corners of his mouth
lengthened just slightly, in what might (on Victor's understated
scale of conduct) be interpreted as a smile.

Elisa
was used to his character. She was very fond of Victor, despite his
shyness. He was one of the people she most trusted. But right then,
there was only one way he could help her.

"How's
the puzzle looking today?" She smiled, tucking her hair back. It
was a routine question. Victor liked the fact that she showed an
interest in his hobby and often told her about the most interesting
rebuses. There weren't many people he could talk to about that sort
of thing.

"Pretty
easy." He showed her the photocopy, which bore the caption
"Where to look for encouragement," and showed a picture of
a pointed instrument that resembled an ice pick, suspended above what
looked like a large flounder, or some kind of flat fish. "All
over the place. Get it?
Awl
over
the
plaice?"

"Not
bad," said Elisa, laughing.
Try
to look nonchalant.
She
wanted to scream, to run away, but she knew she had to keep her cool.
No one was going to help her, at least not yet. She was alone. "Hey,
Victor, would you tell Teresa I'm not going to be able to make it to
the quantum seminar this afternoon? She's not in her office and I
really need to take off."

"Sure."
Another almost imperceptible eyebrow movement. "Anything wrong?"

"I
have a headache, and I think I may have a fever, too. Might be the
flu."

"Oh,
dear."

"Yeah,
I know."

That
"oh, dear" was as close as Victor would come to showing his
affection, and Elisa knew it. They looked at each other for a second,
and then Victor said, "No problem. I'll tell her."

She
thanked him. As she was walking out, she heard a faint "Feel
better."

Victor
stood, photocopy in hand, staring after her, for quite some time.
Beneath his large, old-fashioned wire-rimmed glasses, his face showed
only a slightly disconcerted look. But deep down, he was worried.

THERE'S
no
one to help you.

She
headed to her car in the university lot. The sky was almost white on
that cold, March morning, and she shivered. She knew that she didn't
have the flu, but she thought that given the circumstances, one
little white lie was more than forgivable.

Every
few seconds, she turned to glance around her.
No
one. You're alone. And you haven't even gotten the call. Right?

She
took her cell phone out of her purse to check her messages. Nothing.
And no new e-mails on her computer watch.
Alone.

Thousands
of questions raced through her mind, an incessant stream of concerns
and possibilities. She realized how nervous she was when she fumbled
and almost dropped her remote-control door opener. Once in the car,
she maneuvered carefully, gripping the steering wheel with both hands
and thinking through every movement of the clutch and the accelerator
as if this were her first driving test. She decided not to hook up
the car's computer, preferring to drive with no assistance. It would
help her keep calm.

She
pulled out of the faculty lot and took the Colmenar road, heading
back toward Madrid. Nothing unusual in her rearview mirror: cars
passing each other, no one following her as far as she could tell.
When she came to the northern edge of town, she took the road heading
down toward her neighborhood.

Then,
as she was crossing Hortaleza, her cell phone rang. She glanced over
at the passenger seat. The phone was inside her purse, and she hadn't
connected it to the car's speakers. She slowed down and slid one hand
into her purse, rummaging frantically for it.
This
is it, this is the call.
The
sound and vibration seemed to be coming from underground. She felt
around like a blind person: change purse, charger, the shape of the
phone.
Answer
it, answer it now.