When I first arrived, I hesitated a moment longer than usual, struck by her beauty. Long, flowing blonde hair. A loose-fitting T-shirt showing off a large amount of cleavage between her large, natural breasts. Short shorts exposing long, slender, toned legs, clearly the result of frequent visits to the gym. She could be a model. Perhaps she is.
I even stammered through my usual routine at first, my nervous tics returning to betray me. "H-h-hello, ma'am. PG&E, we've gotten re-"
Ahh!-
"…readings of a gas leak in your home."
She was put off by my stuttering, as everyone always is. I recovered quickly, however, and convinced her to allow me in.
"I haven't smelled anything. You guys must have great sensors." After scanning the room for signs of company, I turned to strike her, but I paused to admire her, just long enough for her to second-guess her decision. I was nearly unable to immobilize her, and she was able to scream just as I did so.
For a few brief, panicked moments, I laid on the floor, as frozen stiff as she was, thankful that I had managed to cut down on the time my attacks affect my own body. Once I regained movement, I spent several minutes looking out the windows to see if any of her neighbors were alerted by her shriek, but no lights were on in the houses beside hers on either side. Had I any doubt, I would have had to abandon my routine and flee. How relieved I was when I determined no one had heard her.
I took my time with her, savoring each moment. I deserved to, after all. Women like her are the reason I began this journey, and tonight, I hit the proverbial jackpot. I took in each contour, each curve, burning them into my memory. The feeling of my hands on her skin, my tongue on her sweet flower, the smell of her hair, all of these had to be remembered more than the others. She is perfect, save for the teardrops. As always, I am certain her body enjoyed it as much as mine did. I only wish her mind was able to share in the joy.
I look upon her again as I fasten my belt, taking one long last look upon her perfection, and relay the same warning of financial ruin I have given the others. It has served me well thus far. As I turn to leave, however, my heart leaps into my throat. The knob to the front door begins to move, slowly, on its own.
I calm my nerves and position myself to the side of the door frame, so that when it opens, I will be to the back of the person entering. I will need to be swift, unlike earlier.
The moment I see him enter, I push the door closed as I lunge at him, all in one swift motion. This will only be effective if he is alone, and I pray it is so, as we lay on the floor, both stiff as boards. My prayers seem answered with the passing seconds, as no one else enters through the door. I take the time to be thankful that I struck quickly enough so as not to allow him to make a sound.
When I am finally able to make it to my feet a few moments later, I look upon my would-be foil. He is an older man, in his fifties, perhaps, or sixties. Surely he is not her lover, for no woman as young and beautiful as she would fall for such a sloth. Possibly he is her father, though I am certain she lives alone, so I wonder why he would not have knocked on the door, or rung the bell. It is then that I wonder if this man is a stranger, like myself. Then I see the badge on his jacket.
Perhaps someone did hear her scream, and called the police. I rush to a front window and peer out. No police cars or other signs of life, except for a solitary female, sitting on the steps of a house across the street. Strange. Why would he come alone, then? No time for theorizing. I must make my quick and covert escape.
The front door no longer an option, I find a side entrance. Heart pounding in my chest, I open the door, look around, and dart across the yard, climbing a low fence into the neighbor's yard. A few more houses down, I sneak down the driveway and walk to my van as casually as I am able, not pausing to look over my shoulder to see if the woman across the street has cared to take notice.
I fumble for my keys and feel a twinge of pain in my side. Striking twice in the same evening may not serve my health very well. The sharp, stabbing pains in my abdomen are becoming more frequent, and are taking longer to subside.
As I start the van and drive off, I wonder what it means that a police officer came upon me, but arrived alone. Perhaps he was not there for me at all, but I decide it is prudent to be cautious for some time, to be certain I am not under investigation.
A part of me wonders which one of the despicable young women would have gone to the police and told my story. I have been reckless, letting them see my face. My threats were not convincing enough. Next time I shall be more careful, if there is a next time. For now, a low profile is called for.
----------
Priya
So here I find myself in the bushes...again, with my angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, debating intensely as to my next move...again. After my encounter with the man with the gun and his severely injured companion, I almost swore off this line of work entirely. But I knew I had to keep going, because, well, I'm still poor...broke, if I'm to be completely honest. A life of thievery isn’t as lucrative as the movies make it out to be.
I spotted the rapist’s van, as I have a few times before, and he’s led me once more to easy prey. All I have to do is wait for him to leave. But finding that one girl dead has me listening to the angel a bit more lately.
Get in there, Priya. You've got a taser now. Do the right thing, said the angel. Wait it out, countered the devil. You don't know how he freezes them. He could hurt you, too. Besides, she's loaded. You won't have to hit another house for months after this score. The devil made me sit here in the bushes for awhile longer, debating with myself instead of taking action.
While I argued with myself, other figures approached. It was as if the angel was making me pay for my indecision, ultimately leaving the poor woman to her fate. They stopped across the street from the house I've been watching, about halfway down the block from my hiding spot.
I wondered why these five people would be simply standing around arguing. My not-so-comfy bush was less a part of a quiet street than it was an hour ago. Now I couldn't move from my spot if I wanted to, until they left. Good thing I don't have to pee, I thought; I might be here awhile.
As my attention turned from the horrible attack inside the house to the group across the street from it, something nagged at me. Then it clicked. I recognized one of them: the man with the gun, who threatened to shoot me if I didn't leave the last house I was hitting. Lord knows what he did to that poor, frozen woman once I left...or to the poor unconscious woman he held in his arms. Then I wondered, is one of the women here the one he brought with him? If so, she seems in much better condition than the first time I came across her.
I leaned forward a bit to try to get a better look at them all, to confirm my suspicions. This was a mistake, as one of them whipped her head around, staring right in my direction.
That's when I started to panic. Three of them started walking this way, and I stayed so very still, not knowing whether to make a break for it or try to remain concealed. There's no way they could've heard me, I'd convinced myself. I would sit perfectly still, I thought, not let them hear any leaves rustling as they walked by. Except, they didn't walk by. The two women stared right at my hiding spot between the bushes. The man, quite a large man, in fact, stood behind them, hands balled into fists. Surely he couldn't see me, with how tiny and hidden I am. And why are they here in the first place? If they're friends of the man with the gun, it couldn't be good.
The women pull back the bushes, and we stare at each other for a moment, each daring the other to speak first. The large man lowers his fists. "You guys...I think she's blind."
I'm at their mercy, no escaping when they're blocking my only path. "What do you people want with me?"
The older woman tries to comfort me, which is odd, because her posture is screaming all sorts of signs that she's nervous, too. "It's ok. We're like you," she whispers.
"You're...you're blind too?"
The other woman cups her hands over her ears. Stran
ge.
"Well, no. Not exactly."
The other woman turns to her. "You really need to work on your opening line, doc." Even though she's whispering, too, I can tell she's Hispanic, from her slight accent.
"I apologize if we startled you. Please, I have some questions for you." She holds out a shaky hand.
"Maddy, she's blind, remember?" The man moves in to help me up, but I reflexively cower back. He tilts his head sideways a bit. "Or...is she? Are you?" Why are they all whispering?
I don't know these people, the devil on my shoulder reminds me. Don't tell them a thing. "I...I heard you step towards me. Sorry, I'm a little on edge right now."
The Hispanic lady looks around, hands still cupped over her ears. "I would be too, if I fell into some bushes. Why didn't you yell for help when you fell in?"
Think, Priya. Why didn't I yell for help? "Uh...I didn't see anyone nearby." Good one, doofus.
They all look at each other. The large bald man shrugs. "Maybe she hit her head when she fell, got a concussion." Why didn't I think of that? I really am terrible at all this.
I hold out my hand and allow them to help me out of the bushes and to my feet. The one they called a doctor looks me up and down, then looks across the street, and back at me again. "You weren't there by accident, were you? You were watching that house. How?" Ok, between the whispering and the cryptic questions, she's really starting to freak me out.
The large man leans in and whispers even lower to her, though not enough to keep me from hearing. "Doc. She's blind, remember?"
"Are you tracking the Gas Man, too?" The Gas Man? Maybe the uniform I’ve seen him wear is from PG&E. I hesitate to answer, though. I still don't know what to think of these three. They seem nice enough, says the angel on my shoulder. But the devil is screaming at me to get outta here as quickly as I can.
"You said that you're...like me?"
The doctor introduces herself and her friends, and gives me her business card, as though I could read it. She explains how she and the Hispanic girl found me. She then tries to explain the large man's ability, but I don't get it. He laments that he forgot to bring his backpack, whatever that has to do with anything.
I look over their shoulders and notice down the street that the other woman is by herself now. I wonder where Gun Man went. I look across the street and see him entering the house. I also see the Gas Man standing beside the door, seemingly awaiting the ambush. I start to say something to them, but Dr. Gibson cuts me off.
"Please, I know you have some ability. Can you tell us about it, and what you know of this man?" Can I truly trust these people? It's too late, the devil on my shoulder says, the Gun Man's already frozen. The angel on my other shoulder retorts: I can at least tell them how the Gas Man immobilizes people. Out of an overabundance of caution, I don't share the whole story of how I can see, but I offer up what little I know of the rapist.
"The women he attacks...he paralyzes them, just by touching them, it seems. They get stunned and fall over. He does, too. But he recovers quickly." Just as he has right now.
The large man they called Bob rubs his chin. "Interesting. Some kind of electric shock from his own body, maybe?"
Isabel turns to him. "I was about to say that sounds like science fiction bullshit, but that's kind of what we are, isn't it?"
"Priya, I don't know if you know this, but some of these women are winding up dead." I do know that, actually. All too well, and what I saw that night still haunts my dreams. "We're trying to catch both the rapist and the person or people who are finishing the job. Can you help us?" Run away, yells the devil. Tell them everything, the angel implores.
I'm about to tell them what I’m seeing: that the intruder is no longer in the house, having slipped out a side door, but as soon as he jumps a fence, Isabel hears it and looks in his direction. "Shit! He's running!" She bolts off after him, and the others follow, but he's got too much of a head start. He hops into his van and speeds off.
Go, help them, says the angel. Now's your chance, the devil retorts. I don’t see how I can help. I tuck the business card into my pocket and run the other way. Perhaps James will read it to me, if I ever decide to see this Dr. Gibson again.
Chapter 27
Madison
Damnit, Maddy! How could I be so naive? Lt. Foley went in on his own anyway. I hope he's ok, but now the rapist has escaped. Well, there goes our chance of catching him tonight. "Maiko, what happened?"
She throws up her hands. "I tried to go in there with him, but he got it into his head that this was his duty, that he shouldn't have gotten us involved." She notices us all looking past her, and glances back toward the van, which is now speeding out of view. "Did I miss something?"
"Yeah, chica. Your man didn't do his duty so well. The Gas Man just drove off."
"Oh, no." Maiko turns back to the house. "Frank?"
Bob yells out to her as she runs to the house. "Maiko, wait!"
"Dude, seriously?" Isabel's writhing on the ground. Bob helps her up, apologizing profusely, as quietly as possible. She seems ok, but doesn't look too happy with him.
He turns back to me. "Maybe Priya can...hey, where'd she go?" Great, that's two Sensitives we've lost track of in about a minute. And our cars are too far away to be able to follow either of them. That makes checking on Foley the top priority. I'm not picking up any other Sensitives in there, at least, so we rush inside.
Isabel, Bob, and I catch up to Maiko, who we find kneeling over the prone body of Lt. Foley, just inside the front door. "I knew I shouldn't have let him go in alone. I'm sorry." Over her shoulder, I spot the rapist's latest victim in the next room. I instinctively look away. I'm not prepared for this, at all.
Maiko leans down and talks to Lt. Foley. "Oh, Frank, you big dummy. Why did you have to go and do that?" She checks his pulse and puts her hand on his chest. Still looking into his eyes, she says, "He's ok, for now."
Isabel points to the lieutenant. "What does this mean? Are we screwed? I mean, obviously, he is, but what do we do now?"
Maiko offers up her opinion. "I guess we missed our chance. We should probably get them both to a hospital."
I look to Bob to confirm my plan. "We missed our first target, but we still have a shot at the top prize. The Ripper could still show up. And if he really does have friends..."
"Hickam's dictum, doc. I don't think he'll show up as things stand right now. We need someone to be near death. We planned on having Maiko drain the rapist to bait him, but clearly that's out the window." We all look over to Maiko.
Right. I knew she wasn't exactly thrilled with that plan, but she understood what needed to be done. If anyone deserved the Maiko’s Touch treatment, it was him. I look past her again, into the other room, debating whether to even suggest what popped into my head as plan B. She looks back towards the idle victim as well. "Oh, no. I am not touching that woman. I'm never doing that again." I'm ashamed of even thinking of it. The lieutenant, however...
As if reading my mind, Maiko turns back towards Foley. She whispers an apology in his ear and puts her hands on his chest. After a few moments, her body shudders, then calms. She looks up at us, hands still on the lieutenant.
"I've never done this before while I'm healthy. It's always been when I'm weak and emaciated. I don't know if it'll affect him differently, or me for that matter."
"You're doing great, mija. Just concentrate." Isabel giving words of encouragement surprises me a little, and she can tell. "What? I used to work with kids."
Bob creeps forward to get a closer look, fascinated. "How will you know when he's drained enough?"
Foley's body starts convulsing, and even though his face is unable to convey any emotion, I can almost see the shock and terror in his eyes. Maiko lurches back and pulls her hands off of him. "That's how." She looks up to me, desperately. "Can you check him?"
I dutifully check his vitals. "He's alive, though his pulse has slowed dramatically. I think he'll be ok for a bit. I just hope it's eno
ugh." I suggest moving the victim's still-prone body upstairs, out of harm's way. If we're successful in luring the Reaper, Ripper, and Cleaner, we don't want them going anywhere near her without going through us first. It’s also starting to sink in that they very well could go right through us, despite what we’ve planned. Now my quickening heartbeat is making up for Lt. Foley’s.
Maiko stays with him while Bob, Isabel, and I take the victim upstairs to her bed, to make her as comfortable as possible. As I turn to go back downstairs, Isabel steps in front of me and whispers, "She's probably still terrified, not knowing who we are, or why we're here. Plus she's just been through maybe the worst experience of her life. How about a little bedside manner, doc?"
I'm uncomfortable even facing her, knowing we failed to capture her attacker. Still, Isabel's right. I turn to her and explain that we're here to help, that she's no longer in danger, and that we'll get her to a hospital just as soon as we can.
I must've sounded robotic, given Isabel's reaction. "Geez, I thought you were only like this in the office." She shakes her head and walks out of the room.
Bob walks by, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "Don't mind her, doc. You sounded super comforting."
Isabel yells from the hallway. "Don't lie to her like that, Drooling Man!" Didn't that hurt her ears? She must've thought it was worth it.
Maiko, kneeling on the floor, has Foley's head in her lap. It doesn't look very comfortable for either of them. When I point that out, she asks, "Do you think we should get him a pillow?"
Bob raises his hand. "I think it might look just a teensy bit peculiar if the Ripper and his buddies show up and find him all comfy cozy with a blanket and pillow. He needs to look like he was left for dead, or they'll be suspicious."
We agree to leave Foley as is and hide in the adjacent rooms, out of sight of any doors, though we do move him from just inside the front door into the dining room. The closer he is to the front door, the easier it would be for the killers to flee.
The Ripper of Blossom Valley Page 28
