Dimensia

by Steven Thornton, Jr

  *

  Staring with disbelief, my eyes were drawn to the kitchen knife clutched in the masked man's right hand, just as he stopped searching through the dresser drawers and turned towards the woman. Dropping focus and consumed with fear, I felt more than worried for the woman's life. Instinctively, I started running toward the building's staircase and shot up the stairs like a bullet out of a shotgun barrel.

  Arriving at the second floor, I located the apartment recognizing the front door cracked open, with shattered pieces of wood scattered around the framing of the door. Without thought, I dropped to my knees and slowly pushed with my upper arm against the door sounding a creaking noise. Cause for pause, alarmed, the noise was loud as I froze, hoping the intruder hadn't heard it. In reality, I might as well have pulled the pin and dropped a grenade. Adrenaline stacked, my heart raced, as I bear crawled into the room. I looked toward the bedroom to see if the intruder was there. He wasn't. Optimistic, I directed my attention to the bathroom, hoping he was there, but no luck. As I slowly stood, I reached out for a leg of the broken coffee table. Well, I found the masked man, standing feet away, towering over me with the knife clutched in his right hand, eyes in a trance, as if looking right through me? Unnerved, the masked man was ready, prepared to inflict pain. Feeling my heart race, everything became eerily calm, the quite before the storm. My throat felt dry and my eyes grew heavy as objects in the room began to blur. Between the shadow cast on the wall and the blade reflecting light, terror took hold. With adrenaline surging through my veins, I held my breath and tightened my grip on the leg of the coffee table. The masked man and I locked eyes for a moment. 'Run!' A voice in my mind declared. I wanted to run, and perhaps he would follow me, or leave knowing the party was over. Logic aside, the reality of my actions was at hand. Anticipating the moment when he would lunge forward with the knife, wounding me, getting some perverted pleasure in my suffering, my heart impossibly raced faster. As much as I wanted to turn tail, I couldn't. My legs locked and my feet melted to the floor. Strangely my thoughts changed and although I couldn't be sure of the outcome, for whatever reason I felt safe. When the masked man took a step towards me. Standing in the doorway, I tried to convince myself to hold fast and stand my ground, to not show fear. I quickly reasoned, worse case scenario, it will hurt if and when I get stabbed, but not for long. 'Wait for it. Wait for it. . . ACTION!' My heart raced, I took a breath and saw everything that mattered. Everything composed of matter. He took another step toward me, then another. A burst of energy overcame me, as if entering my body, releasing a nitrous shot of adrenalin. 'NOW!' The next thing I know, I am three feet in the air, jumping towards him, with the leg of the coffee table raised above my head like a wild Comanche, my opponent's head in my proverbial crosshairs. Strange, but why do moments of this magnitude, of this caliber; always play out in slow motion? I guess it stems from the natural high, mixed with the endorphins released from our brains in the event, experience, circumstance, or situation. In effect, he raised the knife in a thrusting motion, but prior to the exchange, he retracted his jab. He simply looked up at the leg of the coffee table. His eyes were the only familiar image I could make out. I knew in that moment that he wanted me to kill him. Making contact, the leg of the coffee table exploded, shattering into countless tiny pieces. It was an intense moment. In retrospect, some music might have been nice? Splinters looked like glitter as they fell to the ground, a spectacular backdrop for the masked man, his disbelieving eyes never leaving mine as he crumbled to his knees. A subtle moment of clarity registered on his face, as if the words had been written on his forehead. Words that read: he was glad I had stopped him. The animal that lives in each of us. Then, nothing but the white of his eyes as they rolled to the back of his head. He released an exhausting moan of pain just as his legs collapsed. Standing above him, a puddle of blood flowing from his injured head collected on his lower back. I bent down and retrieved the knife lying next to him, which he had dropped in the process. Having seen my share of scary movies where the villain comes to life for one last assault. Uncertain if the man was dead or undead, I placed my knee flat against his upper rib cage and felt his jugular vein for a pulse. Confirming he was alive, I retracted my hand as a droplet of blood accumulated on my forefinger, beginning to run between my fingers. It was definitely weird, and I had never felt another person's blood. It felt warm and maintained a thick consistency comparable to motor oil. This man, I had thankfully not killed, to someone he may be a husband, a Father, a Brother, a lover? Where did he go wrong? Who is to blame? I find it's easy to place blame, but to understand is a whole other mindset. With the knife in hand, I ran to the room to check on the lady in distress.

  Entering the bedroom, the captive woman's face turned from fright to life. Her eyes watered then tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. The look I received was equivalent to my serving her water in hell. Her eyes, those haunted eyes. I will never forget them. In the moment, I witnessed her spirit return. I quickly ran to the bed and removed the tape that had been placed over her mouth, and then cut the rope that had restrained her arms and legs. Once free she grabbed the covers and wrapped her naked body, feeling embarrassed but more relieved.

  "It's okay you're safe now," I said reassuringly. She, fanatically crying, inhaled a few deep breaths and looked at me with disbelief in her eyes.

  "How did you know?" she asked trembling. Seeing her pain-stricken face, I felt a great sense of the terror she had just encountered.

  "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't arrive sooner." I replied, my voice cracking with emotion as my eyes started to water. Hoping to help comfort her, I wrapped my arm around her neck. Seconds later I saw a Police officer enter through the front door. On the bed, I held the lady in my arms, trying to comfort her as she buried her head against my shoulder. Moments later, I saw an officer enter the bedroom, skinning his smoke wagon.

  "Are you guys okay?" the officer asked.

  "Yes," I replied, as he exited the room, speaking something into his radio that was positioned over his right shoulder. I looked into the living room to see more cops enter the apartment. They handcuffed the masked man while even more officers entered the bedroom.

  With the Cops thoroughly checking any and all other rooms of the apartment, I recognized one of the officers. I knew him as Officer Baker. Knowing I recognized him, he grinned.

  "You have had an interesting couple of days, no?" he proclaimed with a look of skepticism. I simply smiled.

  Soon, the officers began to question the lady as to how everything went down. In the mix, I turned to one of the officers and asked,

  "Could I step outside to catch some fresh air?"

  "That'll be fine, but don't leave," he sternly suggested.

  "We need you to explain what you encountered," he continued as I stepped through the crime-scene, all too real, and out onto the balcony. Outside, I saw a herd of Police cars and Fire trucks, cherries and berries blazing. From the balcony I looked down and saw Comfort looking up from the car, patiently waiting, with a look of puzzlement etched on her face. I waved to her and witnessed her face light up as she waved back enthusiastically, relieved that everything was okay. I felt beyond fortunate, I felt grateful that everything was in-fact ok. Also, I realized how great a gal I had. I then asked one of the officers if she could come up to the balcony, and he agreed, waving her up with an arm motion. Upon arrival, she delivered a big hug as she stared into my eyes wearing a look I had thought reserved for superheroes just after saving our planet. As she wrapped her arms around my neck, she strengthened her embrace,

  "How did you know?" she asked as she released her grip. When I looked into her eyes, they were glazed with emotion.

  "I'll explain everything later, crazy," I said, assuring her with a smile.

  "You promise?" she asked, wearing a sad, puppy dog face.

  "Yes, I promise." I smiled and took a deep
breath. I was glad to be alive and thankful that everything had worked out, understanding that it could have played out much differently. About that time, Officer Baker came out to the balcony and lit up a smoke.

  "Square," he suggested with a cigarette hanging from his lips, extending his half empty box of Parliament Lights. I accepted the gesture. With his lighter I lit the cigarette and leaned over the balcony next to him as Comfort stood to my right. I turned to look at him as he inhaled a drag of his cigarette.

  "Who are you?" he asked, opening dialog, exhaling a lung full of smoke.

  "I'm not sure yet," I replied as my virgin lungs inhaled a drag. I coughed violently.

  "But I think we will be seeing a lot more of each other." I said, as he turned to look at me. Deep in thought, he blew smoke the opposite direction.

  "Be careful man. Sometimes these scenes don't go as well as we like or would have planned." Taking another drag of the cigarette, feeling the head change, I tossed the cigarette off the balcony below. As I leaned over the railing, I watched the embers from the cigarette leave a trail of light as the butt tumbled to the ground.

  "Yes sir, I will be." I said. I turned to face him, smiled, and shook his hand. Then I turned to Comfort and asked that she hang out on the balcony so that I could explain my side of the story to the detectives.

  Inside the apartment, I realized the seriousness of the whole ordeal. I saw the masked man on a stretcher being treated by medics. I watched as he was carted past. Looking down, he seemed to be unconscious, or at least heavily sedated. He was strapped down, handcuffed to the gurney and being escorted to the awaiting meat wagon below. I looked around the room and saw the officers and firemen standing around talking amongst themselves. Scanning the place, my eyes became fixed on the woman in distress sitting on the couch, looking up at me. This moment was intense. It was as if everything paused, or froze in time. I grinned, and then followed with a simple wave. Sipping on what appeared to be tea, she waved back, smiling, and mouthed,

  "Thank-you." As she nodded her head, she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes had filled with tears as her mind ran over the events of the terrorizing attack. I simply nodded, accepting her appreciation and proceeded towards the kitchen.

  In the kitchen, I grabbed a seat at the kitchen table and explained my side of the near-tragic incident. The Detective said he found my story 'a tough pill to swallow.' Regardless, he had to accept that I had seen the masked man enter the property in passing and that I reacted out of instinct (or adrenaline) but certainly within the law. Skipping ahead, a few conversations later, and I was excused. As I walked outside, alive and well, I found Comfort patiently waiting on the balcony. We departed the crime scene.

  Needless to say, the ride home was an awkward one. We shared silence as both of us reflected on the earlier events. Soon we arrived to our place. I asked that Comfort stay the night and she agreed. Upon entering my apartment, the silence was broken.

  "What's going on with you these days?" she asked, in a demanding tone of voice. Not exactly the first topic of choice, however, it was unavoidable. I asked that she take a seat, knowing what I was about to tell her was truly unbelievable. I started at the beginning, how Rob gave me the information from his cousin who had somehow managed to hack into the Dimensia Lab. I explained to her the details pertaining to the snake lady and the business card and of the address and details of that night. I explained my gift that Order and Truth had somehow given to me, yielding me capable to truly helping. I concluded with the present day.

  "Okay," she said, releasing an overwhelming sigh, followed by a brief pause, seeing her mind race through her eyes, weighing her words with care.

  "Let's say I believe you? What happens next?" she asked with a look of doubt and uncertainty etched on her face. Having been pacing the room like a mad man, I grabbed a seat next to her on the bed and reached for her hand, looking into her deep blue eyes.

  "I'm not sure what's next. All I know is that they have chosen me for whatever reason, and in fact, I like it so far." Staring into my eyes, a smile grew on her face.

  "Well Fisher, if you like it, I like it. I believe you. I mean it's hard not to really. I know its crazy, but after witnessing what just happened . . . " As the statement lingered into oblivion, I felt ecstatic. I jumped off the bed and began running the width of the room as a four year old kid would, hyped up on sugar. That is, until I discerned Comfort was not as excited. Sugar crash.

  "Is something else troubling you babe," I asked. Sitting on the bed, she looked up at me with concerned eyes.

  "I'm just worried for you, that's all," she said, in a small, soft, whispery voice, her eyes falling to the ground. I walked towards her and grabbed a seat next to her on the bed as I reached for her hand.

  "I'm sorry babe, but try not to worry. I'm not. Think of this as me getting to help people that need help." With that said, her eyes lit up, she cracked a faint smile as her eyes swelled with tears.

  After clearing the air with our conversation, we laid down for the night. I felt exhausted, my body felt drained. All the experiences I had in the previous days had taken their toll, and it did not help that it was approaching two AM. Lying on my back, looking at the stars as they miraculously lit up the sky, I couldn't sleep. Waiting to come down, I felt restless as my mind wandered. I felt plagued with questions: 'what will the other dimensions be like, and when am I going to begin to figure out the auras and colors, or deviations of them, and what they represented?' While on my back, looking at the ceiling, but actually looking through the ceiling, I briefly caught a glimpse of a shooting star. Unlike other shooting stars, it seemed as if it was in slow motion. I was drawn to the remarkably vivid green trail of light from the gasses burning off upon entering our atmosphere. It was like an arc welder's flame, inches long, but much larger of course. In awe, I watched the star slowly speed across the night sky until completely burning out. I felt a sudden calmness come over me as I lay in bed, now beginning to understand how much there is we do not know.

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