Free The Unlucky by Jonas Saul

help with her throbbing head. Even after three painkillers, her whiskey headache had only dimmed slightly, leaving a subtle throbbing between the temples.
     
    Served her right for trying to block Vivian’s voice. It seemed she couldn’t detect Vivian’s presence at all when she was quite sloshed. The more she drank, the further the voice moved into the far recesses of her consciousness, and the more Sarah got herself back. In the end all that achieved was a drunk Sarah without Vivian’s protection. That was scary and made her feel vulnerable in its own way, but it was also liberating.
     
    The year before, she had learned whiskey meant something like water for life in Gaelic. She could use some water now as her tongue was an arid piece of meat flopping around in her mouth.
     
    It wasn’t the brightest idea to get drunk in Toronto either. Not while every authority on every block hunted her.
     
    They probably still had Aaron locked up, drilling a thousand questions at him. And when they learned he was her boyfriend but had only heard from her recently under mysterious circumstances, they wouldn’t believe him. How could Sarah be in Toronto and her own boyfriend didn’t know about it? Where is she? they’d ask. Why is she here? Aaron was tough, but they would push him hard.
     
    When this was over, she would find a way to make it up to him if he’d let her.
     
    The concession road was surrounded by shrubs, bushes and trees. Not a single leaf moved in the still air. The sound of the highway grew dimmer as she walked away from it.
     
    After five minutes, a green car came toward her. The female driver checked her out, staring longer than normal. Sarah paid the driver no extra attention. There was a cottage Vivian was leading her to. Focus on that. Watch the place. Then leave and get water. And more sleep.
     
    After fifteen minutes, a tall fence came up on the right. A cool slither moved down her back, a chill in the heat for a brief moment. She slowed her step.
     
    Is this the place?
     
    Sarah didn’t need an answer. She knew what she was looking at. That all-knowing feeling, strange as it was, returned.
     
    She had found the cottage. It was surrounded on all sides by a fence topped with barbed wire.
     
    “How do I get in?” she asked out loud.
     
    The urge to move forward swept over her. Putting one foot in front of the other, Sarah followed the fence until she came to a corner where the road turned to the right.
     
    Detective Simmons’ gun had slipped slightly in the sweat at the back of her pants. She pulled it out, checked that the safety was off and held it aimed at the sky as she eased around the corner. A large iron gate sat open. Atop this gate, barbed wire was twirled in circles like the fences at concentration camps.
     
    How can I watch the cottage from outside the gate?
     
    Enter quietly in half a minute, came the reply, echoing in that resonant cadence of Vivian’s voice. Even though Vivian had occupied her body, made her pass out and write notes, saved her life countless times and now talked directly to her in this fashion, it still took some getting used to. Sarah had the urge to shake her head as if a mosquito buzzed close by when Vivian whispered to her. Only recently had she been able to resist that urge, knowing how it would look to others.
     
    The clock ticked. The gate remained open.
     
    Maybe the woman who drove by minutes before had come from here, leaving the gate ajar.
     
    Then why wait, Vivian?
     
    At least twenty seconds had passed. Sarah decided to move forward. She stepped out from behind the corner and heard footsteps approaching almost immediately.
     
    She pivoted on her heels and jumped back behind the security of the wall where she had been hiding moments before.
     
    A man emerged from the opening in the gate. He walked with purpose, his face glued to the phone in his hand. White cords fed from the phone to his ears. As she watched him, the man touched something in