And then suddenly, she was there.
She stood eyeing a clothing rack, dressed in a dark navy blue hoodie with a pair of second-skin black stretch pants showing off every contour of her slender chicken legs. She turned to me with a brilliant smile. She walked right to me, as though she’d been expecting me to arrive at that precise place and time.
It all hit home. She was real. It all happened. And she was obviously okay, casually shopping at Wal-Mart as if she hadn’t almost died in my lap two weeks ago. Everything flashed before my eyes once again, like a video played in fast forward: her shoving me back into my Geo, that squishy wet smack of impact and her flying through the air, her blood on my passenger seat and hands, her slight weight in my arms, stripping her clothes off, pulling on her left arm as she popped her shoulder back into the socket, washing all that blood and dirt and gravel from her wounds as she lay on my lap gritting her teeth and whimpering. All real … all of it. And here she was, smiling, seemingly unscathed.
I stared at her like a complete idiot, then blurted out excitedly. “Hey there, how you doin’?” I hadn’t realized how badly I’d been hoping to see her again, to find out if she was okay, to get some answers. I grinned like a fool.
“I’m fine, all better now, thanks to you.” She spoke exactly as I remembered, with that barely noticeable lilt. She took hold of my hand, as if we’d been friends all our lives.
I had a dozen questions to ask, but all that came out was, “So … ah … what are you doin’?”
She flashed that pixie smile, still holding my hand. “Shopping.”
As the novelty of seeing her again wore off, the pressing questions finally came to mind. “Did you see a doctor?”
She shrugged it off and pulled on my arm, dragging me deep into the girls’ clothing racks to continue shopping. I waited to hear her answer, but she remained absorbed in the rack of hoodies.
I pressed the issue, “You were hurt pretty bad. I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. Did you see a doctor?”
“No. I’m okay. You did a good job.”
I wondered if she could afford a doctor. And then she pulled up her left sleeve to show off her left hand all the way to her elbow, not a mark on it.
“Holy shit. Look at that.” I slid my hand up and down her smooth, cool skin. She looked at me funny, kinda like Anita looks at me. I realized what I was doing and snatched my hand away.
“And what about your leg?” I pointed at her right thigh.
“That’s so cute, you’re worried about me. Oh! … I see. You’re trying to get my clothes off again?” The heat of my embarrassment had to be showing on my face, because I was burning up. I avoided her direct gaze as she poked me in the ribs.
She stuck her little pink tongue out. She was teasing.
“Here.” She moved in and grabbed my hand, sliding it down inside the waistband of her stretch pants. She rubbed my fingers down over the smooth curvature of her bony right hip and kept on going towards her inner thigh. I jerked my hand back as if she’d run my fingers over an open flame.
She leaned up against me and whispered in my ear, “If you want a closer inspection we can go to the bathroom.” Her soft lips brushed over my ear lobe, tickling as she spoke. I suppressed an involuntary shudder.
I tried to back away, “Ahh no. That’s okay, I believe you.” I stammered as she followed, pressing up on me. I asked the first question that came to mind. “Do you live here in Moses Lake?”
“Yep.” She returned to browsing through the racks with a naughty little smirk on her face. The brat enjoyed this game.
I pushed for more, “Out on Stratford Road or in town?”
“Here in town.”
That cleared up absolutely nothing. She latched onto a dark maroon hoodie from the rack and held it up. “What do you think?”
I spoke without thinking, “I think you should get some shirts and underwear too.” Open mouth, insert foot.
She hadn’t been wearing a t-shirt or bra that night, nothing but the hoodie. And I knew firsthand she wasn’t wearing any panties today.
She giggled and scrunched up her dainty little nose. “Nope, too restrictive. I like to live uninhibited. You should try it sometime.”
I blushed again as I remembered her naked in my bed and the crazy dreams that followed. I shook my head to break the disturbing spell of the memory, mumbling, “Jail bait, nothing but jail bait.”
She held up a tiny scrap of a shirt, “How about this?”
“Yeah, that’s good. Wearing a shirt is a good idea.” I’m such an idiot. The girl had reduced me to a fucktard.
Still smirking, she grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the dressing rooms. The absolute last place I wanted to be. She hauled her clothes in and shut the dressing room door behind her, leaving me to wait.
She popped back out in her black stretch pants and the miniature scrap of fabric that was supposed to be a t-shirt – a see-through tank top. I already knew what her little breasts looked like, but the sheer white top was a blatant reminder. The exhibitionist brat was playing with me, flaunting her body.
This girl was nothing but trouble. Eighty pounds of trouble waiting for a place to land, or someone foolish enough to get involved. I’m that fool. I should’ve turned around and walked away, put her out of my mind. But I couldn’t. Our shared horrific experience had somehow bonded us – as if her shoving me back into my car, saving my life, had somehow entwined our lifelines.
“How you like it?” She had a naughty twinkle in her eye while she twirled around to show off.
“Well … I think maybe it’s a little too revealing.” Or maybe a lot.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” She giggled like a little girl, but there was an undertone of something else.
I didn’t understand why, but the girl had activated a protective streak. I felt responsible for her. And I still didn’t know her name. What kind of big brother doesn’t even know her name? God, what a loser.
“Um, I didn’t catch your name.”
She frowned and stopped twirling. “You don’t like it?”
“I guess it’s okay. Something is better than nothing.” I had a real problem today. My mouth kept engaging before my brain could dictate what came out.
She turned and headed back into the dressing room. Her arms, shoulders, hands, all unblemished. Perfect, pale skin. Not a mark on her.
As I puzzled over this strangeness, only one in an ongoing series of strangenesses, she yelled, “Natasha.” She popped back out with the new maroon hoodie on, pulling her shoulder-length mahogany hair out the neck of the hood.
“But you can call me Nadia. My close friends call me Nadia. We are close aren’t we?” She stepped up until she was physically rubbing against me, with that intense unblinking stare.
“Unh hunh, we’re pretty close. I guess.” I seemed to have trouble producing any kind of coherent speech around her.
“We can get a lot closer, if you like ...”
“Uhhmm … maybe we should go.” I was a real charmer, dropping dope lines left and right.
She backed off on the intensity and took my hand. She snatched my generic macaroni and cheese from my other hand. “Is that all you’re here for?”
It took me a couple seconds to realize she was referring to the mac and cheese. “Yeah, and some granola bars and Shoe Goo.”
She took off, guiding me to the grocery aisles, still holding my hand. I picked out the chewy chocolate chip granola bars, which she immediately grabbed from me.
“I’ll take care of it.” The granola bars disappeared into her hoodie with the finesse of a Las Vegas illusionist.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
She stared at me with that unnerving look and spoke in low even tones, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
She then guided us straight to the hardware section. She grabbed a tube of Shoe Goo, slipped it into her magical hoodie pocket with professional sleight of hand, and went straight for the checkout stands. Har
d to say who was taking care of who.
She continued rolling right past the checkout stands, towards the exit.
“Hey, this isn’t cool.” I pulled up short, trying to redirect her back towards the cashiers.
That’s when a bald, fortyish man in a Hawaiian shirt stopped us with a hand on Nadia’s shoulder, “Excuse me but you folks have some stolen merchandise. I’m afraid I have to place you under arrest for shoplifting.” He whipped out a Wal-Mart security badge to shove in our faces.
I recognized the man. He’d been lurking nearby the dressing rooms, obviously undercover.
Then the strangest thing happened (stranger than all the other strange things that had happened thus far). Nadia turned to the security guard, leaned in close, and stared at him directly. She looked at him for several seconds without blinking, and then spoke slowly, clearly enunciating her words, “We do not have what you want. You have made a mistake.”
The undercover replied, mimicking her almost word for word, “You do not have what I want. I have made a mistake.”
Nadia stared, never breaking eye contact. She continued speaking in that low, even tone of voice, “We can go now, have a nice day.”
Again he repeated her. “You can go now, have a nice day.”
Nadia steered me out the door as I gawked at the zombie security guard. She pinched my arm, pulling me along like a reluctant dog on a leash. I was blown away by what I’d witnessed.
“How the hell did you do that?” I choked in a screechy voice. She tugged me out into the parking lot, straight for my car. As we reached my car she pulled me down to her face, nose to nose.
With a dead serious look she twirled her fingers. “It’s a Jedi mind trick.”
It wasn’t until I saw the twinkle of sarcasm in her eyes that I realized she might be joking. Then she waved her hand and dropped her voice a couple octaves. “These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
She did a pretty good Obi-Wan Kenobi.
“No, seriously! Why did you do that? I could’ve paid for it.” I was flustered over the near-miss shoplifting bust. Though I didn’t have much, I always paid my way. I may be white trash, but I’m honest white trash.
“Don’t worry. I do it all the time.” She smiled and climbed up into the passenger side of the Geo, waiting for me.
“But why? It’s not necessary. I had it covered. It’s okay, I have enough money.” I recalled with chagrin the three hundred she’d left behind. As if she’d read my mind, she caught my eye and winked conspiratorially.
“Why do people climb Mount Everest? Why do they swim the English Channel? Why do they go to the moon? Why do we do any of the things we do?” She promptly answered her own question, “Because we can. I do it because I can. I’m really very good at it you know.” She gave me a wicked little half smile.
This girl was gonna get me in a whole shitload of trouble. Way more trouble than I could handle.
Not knowing what else to do at the moment, I hopped into the driver’s seat. “So … where are you headed?”
“Wherever you’re going.” She replied with a mischievous twinkle in her golden eyes.
“I know that, I’m giving you a ride, but to where?” I asked, but I had this weird feeling in my gut. I already knew what she would say.
“With you, wherever you’re going. You’re going home aren’t you?” She looked as if the answer was obvious. Stupid me, wasting time.
I was afraid she’d say that. How could I deny her? I owed her my life, literally. But taking her home could become awkward very quickly, especially with Dad.
“Alright then, home it is. Oh, and my name is Michael, but you can call me Mike. It’s nice to meet you, Natasha.” She looked at me funny, and then I remembered how she’d been calling me that other name. “So, uh, who’s this Mikhail guy? You said his name a couple times the other night.”
“He’s someone I knew a long time ago. You remind me of him.” She paused, considering, then continued, “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“Ahhhmm … that’s pretty heavy stuff. I don’t know. I never really thought about it. I guess it’s possible. I read a magazine article that said there are a bunch of documented cases where people have memories of a past life. Why?”
She smiled. “Do you think people deserve second chances? Even if they have done something beyond forgiveness?”
“Ah, I suppose. I guess it depends on what they did. And what does that have to do with reincarnation?”
She smirked knowingly, but didn’t say another word. This girl got weirder by the minute.
At the trailer park, Richard’s silver Ford F-250 was parked in the driveway. Great, Dad’s home. Never there when I need him, but he’s always around when I don’t. “Um Nadia ... listen … I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for my Dad to see us together. I mean … this is kinda hard to explain. You know what I’m saying?”
She nodded. I stared at my ugly little trailer, assessing all entries and exits. The possibilities were pretty limited. I sighed in resignation. There was really only one way to do it. And I knew it was gonna happen. I’d already seen it in that damn vision.
“Would you mind coming in through my bedroom window? You’re welcome any time, but it’s just … I don’t know how to explain this to my Dad. He wasn’t here the other night, so he doesn’t know what happened. You understand?” Yeah, awkward.
I had a hunch she didn’t have a place to stay tonight, and I was more than happy to help any way I could. I felt obligated to help. She seemed like such a free spirit. I figured her parents were dead or she had runaway.
“Sure, I understand.” She smiled, but her eyes flashed with something, a look of annoyance.
Dad was on the couch watching football, beer in hand. Nothing new. As was the routine, I asked, “Any luck today?”
And as usual he had an explanation of some kind. “Oh yeah, I put in for a maintenance position with RSC over on Broadway. You know, the rental company. I think I got a good shot at this one.”
I accepted the line of bullshit without comment. Same crap he’d said a dozen times over. Tonight I had other things in mind. I hurried off to my bedroom to open the window, turning on the radio to mask any noise. I wasn’t overly concerned. My father wouldn’t be moving from the couch tonight.
Nadia stood off in the shadows, blended into the trees. If I hadn’t known she was there, I’d never have seen her. I suspected she was no stranger to sneaking around in the dark. She moved up quickly when I waved her over. I reached for her, but she was already flowing up into the window gracefully, with the sly coordination of a black cat in the night. She landed right in my arms, hugging me with a whisper.
“Thank you. I was getting tired of waiting.”
That’s when it hit me like a sucker punch to the gut, a heavy sense of déjà vu. A chill knifed down my spine. No matter how many times my visions came true, it was still fuckin’ creepy. And that was only the first of three, two more to go.
She felt me tense up in her embrace. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”
And then it happened. “Not again.”
Without warning another vision flashed, replacing my bedroom with another time and place. It was nighttime. I found myself in a fenced storage parking lot, littered with all kinds of equipment. Somewhere I had never been before. In the darkness, I was drawn to a droplight casting weird patterns of light and shadow all over the front of a large tractor. The front bucket reached high in the air, and someone was working underneath. I could see a man in coveralls, whistling, but he faced down and away.
Something grabbed his attention, and he looked up at the cab of the tractor. I almost saw his face, but then the front boom dropped. He tried to move, but it happened so fast he couldn’t get out of the way.
The thing slammed down and crunched his left leg, pinning him beneath the heavy steel bucket. His screams tore through me, unlike any sound I’d ever heard from a man. Deafening screams of agony.
In a blink I was gone, the horrid sound cut off. My stomach flopped in vertigo, sick from what I’d seen.
“Shit.” I was breathing hard, trying not to puke.
Nadia stood there, still in my arms, looking at me, concerned. “Are you sick?”
“No, it’s fine.” No mutilation here, we’re all good. “I’m gonna cook some mac and cheese, you want some?” She shook her head. “Wait for me – quietly. I’ll be back in a few.” I left her standing there, confused. I needed a few moments to calm down.
I tore through my mac and cheese ravenously and took off back to my room mumbling to Dad that I was tired. Richard ate the remainder of the mac and cheese in front of the TV, glued to the game. The Seattle Seahawks were playing. That was Richard’s team. Even though the Seahawks rarely ever made it to the playoffs or the Super Bowl, Richard Evans watched them religiously, a die-hard fan.
I found Nadia curled up in a ball on my bed, her black clad legs tucked under, almost swallowed by her newly appropriated maroon hoodie. She was paging through last year’s high school yearbook. She looked up and flashed a magical smile when I sat on the bed next to her. Seemed like she belonged here in my room, as if she laid claim to my territory, and it was now hers.
She leaned in, cuddling up against me as I put my arm around her. It felt natural, this easy physical closeness. I never had a sister or even so much as a cousin, but if I did I’d want a sister like Nadia.
Well maybe not exactly like Nadia. I liked to think our familiarity was a brother-sister thing.
I went through my yearbook with her, pointing out Anita and some of the regulars at the skatepark. I gave her my hater spiel about the various douche bags at school that I couldn’t stand; Justin, Tommy, and a good portion of the wrestling team, pointing them out as well. I told her about the stupid McDonalds playcenter video I posted, all the arguments, and my slashed tire. I even confided in her about my thing for Rachelle Werner. Nadia crinkled up her nose as if she smelled something rotten.
I reassured, “You don’t have to worry about Rachelle stealing me away. She won’t have anything to do with me.”
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 63
