Watcher

by Andrew Weis

  Still intent on crushing his skull, I crept around and saw his sobbing face. Tears poured down his rosy cheeks. He never looked so miserable. He must’ve done something fatal to fall apart like that. With any luck, Mom got the courage to leave his abusive ass. That’d be kick if she did.

  While Ken blubbered, I looked at the portraits on the mantel that flanked an engraved silver vase. There, I spotted a funeral card with my mom’s name on it along with the date of her death.

  My chest squeezed as I turned to face Ken. An obituary on the coffee table confirmed she had died, the victim of an illness. A request for donations to the American Cancer Society clued me in to the probable cause of her death.

  I paused and thought of my mom as a surge of anguish filled my heart. My eyes flooded with tears as I thought of her and that I’d never see her again.

  As it turned out, Ken, that beast, loved her and missed her. It was possible he made things right with her after my death, or God willing, he regretted all the crap he did to us over the years. Either way, he didn’t deserve to die now. There was enough suffering in this house. Who was I to inflict more? Besides, it wasn’t my call to take his life. If I killed Ken, I’m sure Arlen would have something to say about it.

  Even as an angel, I felt intense sadness like humans in the traditional sense. In death, emotions followed everyone whether they went to Heaven, Hali and even Hell.

  Early evening arrived, so I decided I’d go back to Xtremes. Still inrepped, I walked to the front door where Nemo and Nero checked ID cards of prospective patrons.

  “Go ahead,” Nemo said. I turned around, then saw the man behind me hand his ID to Nemo. Strange, I swore Nemo was speaking to me.

  The club’s air reeked of a stale blend of alcohol and heavy perfume, while gaudily dressed patrons strutted around like hoodlum royalty. All the show-pony action going on concealed the drug deals that took place in the red leather booths along the back wall. I saw Coz and several of his members slugging down hard liquor like it was lemonade.

  A deejay occupying a back corner played his mixes to warm up the crowd for whatever the night held in store for them. The bartender, a bald Mexican giant with a silver-tinged goatee, leered at the customers as they clamored for drinks. I wasn’t ready to watch the guys make like they were the toughest in the city, so I toured the club on my own.

  Down a back hallway, a skinny black dude in a black beret and black leather bomber jacket played with his smartphone. He stood guard in front of the door, the top half a pane of frosted glass.

  Boxes of bourbon lined the hallway. I lifted a bottle and read the label when the back door swung open. Akio, entering as if he made a grand entrance to a non-existent audience, stepped over to the guy playing with his smartphone.

  “Henry, is Tyrone around?” Akio asked.

  I never realized Akio had such a big vocabulary. Most times, he never spoke but rather nodded and shrugged.

  “Coz is holding court, Akio. He’s looking for you too,” Henry said, his eyes glued to his phone.

  Akio squinted as he tried to look through the frosted glass pane of Tyrone’s office. He shook his head as he strutted away to the main room.

  With my heart still reeling from the news of my mom’s death, I went out the back door with the bourbon bottle. Henry didn’t flinch, the dumbass. Maybe I should make him piss himself so he could join that girl on the freeway I saved on my first job.

  Outside in the alley, among the rotting stench wafting out of garbage containers and discarded food strewn on the ground, I found a place beside a dark green dumpster out of everyone’s way. I unscrewed the cap and took a gulp from the bottle.

  The bourbon’s burn made my eyes explode, then a wash of relaxation flowed through me. I coughed so hard I thought my lungs would vomit out of my mouth, if I had lungs. I cowered in the shadows, cradled the bottle and cried.

  Chapter 9

  A PASSING TRUCK struck a pothole and doused me with polluted alley water. Some of it seeped into my mouth and grossed me out big time. This must be how people felt when they hit rock bottom. The groan of distant thunder caught my ear. I wiped my eyes as a heavy rain poured and streamed down my face. The full bourbon bottle, minus one gulp, remained beside me.

  There wasn’t anything I could do about my mom, my car or my prior life. Soon, I’d have to face Daniel and now was as good a time as any to get to work.

  I hopped to my feet and surveyed the alley as two men unloaded a truck containing boxes of produce through the back door of the corner market. Most deliveries started around six or seven in the morning, so I pegged the current time to be within that window.

  In Hali, Ellis said I didn’t need to sleep, but going through the motions of a human made me appear more human, which helped me blend among them.

  Another truck’s intense LED parking lights blinked in bright yellow and stabbed my eyes like sharp sticks. The driver threw open the truck’s rear overhead door and exposed racks of shirts, suits and dresses wrapped in clear plastic from a commercial dry cleaner. While he attended to his business, I focused on mine.

  Still inrepped, I started my dead girl’s walk back to Daniel’s house. The butterflies in my tummy returned and flapped harder the closer I got to his. I turned an ear toward the familiar rumble of Coz’s Chevelle which sounded like it burned rubber as it rounded the corner.

  When I reached the walkway in front of Daniel’s house, I saw the screen door torn, with shafts of wood jutting from the doorframe. My butterflies died as I shifted to attack mode.

  After stepping inside the house expecting whatever danger lingered, I saw Daniel’s auntie on the floor, unconscious. Next to her lay Daniel’s sister, Riley. Her torn clothing exposed her ravaged private parts.

  I spotted a floral-patterned throw blanket on a chair and covered Riley with it. Her eyes remained transfixed as if she fled to somewhere far away in her mind.

  I couldn’t afford to have Riley see my real face so I changed my hair color to black and lengthened it. I hid the scar on my cheek and tanned my skin a little. Then, I changed into solid form.

  “Hey, girl. Who did this to you?” I asked in a soft tone while I caressed her black hair off her swollen cheek. “Did you see them? Riley?”

  Her head didn’t move, but her lips struggled to form words. I leaned closer, straining to hear her faint whispers.

  “Where’s Daniel?” I asked again. She didn’t respond.

  I ran into the kitchen and dialed 9-1-1.

  “Hi, I want to report a break-in and a rape,” I said. “Please send an ambulance,” I said.

  “Miss, what’s your name?” the man on the phone asked.

  I set the phone down on the counter while the operator continued pleading for my name. I ran upstairs to check the bedrooms. Nobody was there.

  In the basement I saw a workbench littered with electrical components and a large concrete box with a heavy steel lid in the center of the room. That was unusual. I returned upstairs, then heard distant sirens outside grow louder. Not satisfied, I knelt beside Riley once more.

  “Hey, I need to know, girl. Where’s Daniel? Come on, Riley, help me out,” I said.

  She shook her head as a faint whisper passed her lips. “Taken.”

  My heart sank. I stroked Riley’s hair while my lips tightened. After resting her head on the rug, I inrepped and stepped out to the porch.

  The ambulance pulled to the curb with its screaming siren. Two paramedics rushed into the house. One of them asked the girl questions while the other found Riley’s high school ID in her purse.

  “Riley Perry,” one paramedic said.

  Two police cars with lights flashing arrived and parked in front. The officers scanned the sidewalk, then down the sides of the house before coming up the front steps.

  The paramedics took Riley’s vitals then in a monotone, declared she was in shock. They wrapped her in a wool blanket, tied her to a gurney and took her to the ambulance.

  The policemen bent down to l
ook over Daniel’s aunt. Her swollen face and blood-smeared hair made the officer huff. Several detectives dusted for prints and examined her body for other marks. The other police officer tilted his head to speak into his shoulder radio to contact Reggie.

  “Current employer, Hoffman Cement contacted,” the dispatcher said. “Supervisor reported an overturned truck involving Reggie Roscoe earlier this morning.”

  “His whereabouts?” the officer asked.

  “Unknown.”

  “Thanks. Send me the address to that cement company.”

  While shouldering a degree of self-inflicted guilt, I left the house to catch up to the ambulance. I caught up and descended through the vehicle’s roof.

  Riley’s glazed eyes drifted my way while the paramedic called the hospital with Riley’s information. Her lips moved again. Was it possible she saw me?

  The paramedic busied himself monitoring her vitals. Riley’s eyes narrowed as I moved in closer.

  “Are you a ghost?” she whispered.

  “You can see me?” I asked.

  I didn’t think people could see me while I was inrepped. Uh-oh.

  “Riley, who did this to you? Was it Coz?” I asked.

  She began to speak, then her eyes closed. Many alarms chimed off on the ambulance’s machines. The ambulance stopped, then the back door flew open. Hospital orderlies pulled out the gurney and rushed Riley to the emergency room.

  I watched as people scurried all around Riley doing what they could to save her. She regained consciousness, looked about the room and stopped when she saw me. I floated above her. Her lips moved slightly, then a soft child-like voice called my name.

  “Jessa, come away,” the voice said.

  Near the double doors of the emergency room, a little girl of ten or eleven years of age with red ribbons tying off her French braids stood beside a wide stainless steel cabinet with sterile blue trays loaded with assorted medical supplies in sealed wrappers. The little girl brought back a nice memory for me. The girls on our track team French-braided their hair like hers for every meet as a unifying gesture.

  “How can you see me?” I asked.

  “I’m a guardian and have to take her home now,” she said in a firm, serious tone that struck me.

  “She won’t make it?” I asked, looking back at Riley.

  “No. You can’t interfere. You have to leave.”

  “But she knows something that happened at the house. Let me ask her one more time. I’m on my ARV, and she knows something critical I need.”

  I tried to get close to Riley, but an invisible force stopped me. It was at that moment I heard the constant electronic tone of a stopped heart. Despite everything the hospital staff did, Riley’s spirit arose, and the little girl took Riley away. I never got an escort like that. Perhaps Riley wasn’t going to Hali.

  After the little girl angel took Riley away, I wallowed in self-pity. While I was out on a trip down memory lane drowning my sorrows, Daniel went missing. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

  Chapter 10

  WITH DANIEL SOMEWHERE in the city, I not only had to find him but figure out why someone abducted him. The kidnappers taking him anywhere outside Englewood Rails didn’t seem reasonable since there were so many nearby places to hide him. I emerged from inrep and sat on the sofa at Daniel’s house.

  Unimpressed, I observed unimaginative flower paintings on the wall along with the clutter of easel-backed photographs that took up space on every flat surface in the room. Daniel’s face was in almost all of them; his damned perfect face with that damned charming smile.

  I reached for a framed picture of Daniel with his mother, a nice-looking woman with light brown hair and sharp facial features, she was responsible for giving him his heart-melting smile. It melted mine and still did.

  Beside a lamp on an end table a picture of his father, Reggie, with other black men in the Army stood among stacks of wood crates. Upon closer inspection, it was unsettling that they all smiled as they hung out on huge crates of C-4 explosives.

  A man about a foot taller than Reggie stood next to him with his arm draped around Reggie’s shoulder. He looked like he could be Reggie’s friend Tyrone, but I wasn’t sure. They seemed close, almost like best friends. I set down Daniel’s picture, then headed for the kitchen.

  The spotless kitchen reflected the influence of a military man’s attention to order. I saw nothing here that would attract thieves or rapists. I stepped down the basement stairs to check out that big concrete box I noticed before.

  The basement workshop looked well used as if Reggie left it a moment ago. White-painted cement walls lightened up the place, and it didn’t feel at all like a cave. The smell of solder and burned circuit boards teased the air. Schematics lay in neat piles. A large assortment of electrical tools littered the wall-length workbench.

  As a rescue expert, Reggie dabbled in side projects. He had expert knowledge of explosives, but in Afghanistan, his homemade bomb almost cost him and Tyrone their lives. I reasoned that Reggie tested his work here, but only an idiot experiments with explosives in his own home.

  Underneath the workbench, I found a gray steel toolbox loaded with screwdrivers, pliers, a materials list or recipe and another dead end.

  I climbed the basement’s plank steps to the main floor and plopped onto the living room sofa.

  While sitting in silence, I wondered how I’d explain my failure to Arlen if I bailed at this point. I’m sure my dad wouldn’t be too proud of me either and I’d never forgive myself for being a quitter without having even tried to look for Daniel. If I’m here to save Daniel from God knows what, I figured my prior job to save Daniel’s father was about preparing me for this ARV with Daniel. Boy, that Arlen was slick.

  While angels went about their assignments, our perfection at staying hidden or disguised kept the Bible thumpers from bugging us for miracles. I couldn’t imagine what a pain in the butt that’d be. I inrepped and sat in the living room in case family, cops, thugs or whoever paid a visit.

  My eyes cracked open at the sound of a mechanical rattling at the backdoor lock. Moments later, the back door burst open.

  The man grabbed the door before it could bang against the kitchen counter. He dashed around the first-floor rooms, rifled through kitchen cabinets and rattled through the drawers while shaking his head in frustration.

  He emerged from the kitchen, then I saw his face. With a scowl, Coz stopped and reached for his back pocket. He removed his vibrating smartphone while shaking his head.

  “What? Hey, Tyrone,” Coz said in a hurried whisper as he ducked low to the floor. He bobbed his head for a view out the front window.

  “I just checked the kitchen,” Coz continued. “Where would he keep it? No, man, Rico’s out front waiting. I can’t bullshit with you now. What?”

  I looked outside from the front room picture window. Rico sat in the driver’s seat of the red Chevelle. No music blared, which seemed strange since Coz rode everywhere with his music. Coz crept up and leaned against the window frame. His large white eyes darted about the room as he scanned the immediate part of the street.

  “No, T, but I’ll check upstairs. I ain’t looked in the basement yet neither. I told you I just got in the damn house. Ain’t you listening? Reggie must have hid it in no easy place. I’m going upstairs. Did you get the blues yet? No? Then don’t be giving me shit when I’m on the job. Out.”

  Coz put away his phone and headed up the stairs cursing under his breath. Whatever the blues were, they were important enough to shut up Tyrone. I’m sure there would be fireworks the next time they got together. Still, it’d be great watching someone smack Coz around for a change.

  I followed Coz up to Reggie and Daniel’s bedrooms. He flipped up mattresses and tore through dressers. With a profound muffled curse, he headed down the stairs.

  A knock at the front door froze Coz in his tracks. I watched as a cop peeked through the dusty blurry glass arch in the upper part of the door.

&
nbsp; “Hey!” the cop said.

  Coz hurdled over the couch and raced out the back door. Only steps behind him, I followed Coz out to the back yard, then he wasn’t there. Humans can’t disappear or inrep, so I thought. Maybe there were special circumstances like that divine endorsement thing that lets humans perform disappearing acts.

  My brain froze as it tried to understand what I saw or didn’t see. I was right on his heels. The cop entered the back yard but didn’t see Coz anywhere either.

  The police officer returned to the front of the house to join his partner and Rico.

  I floated beside the police officers and listened in on their conversation with Rico. In the back seat of the Chevelle, an English Mastiff barked and clawed at the car’s half-opened window to escape. My blue vision intensified while I looked at the dog’s eyes. He calmed down for a moment but deep growls persisted.

  “You knew Daniel’s sister Riley?” the officer asked.

  “Yeah, I heard about her,” Rico said. “It’s bad she died like that. I knew her from school.”

  “Do you know where Daniel is?”

  Rico eyed the dog, then the officer.

  “No, man. I’m supposed to meet the brother here,” Rico said, glancing down the sidewalk.

  “Here?” the officer said, thumbing at the house.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said. He wanted to talk about me working at the cement company with his dad.”

  “They killed Riley Perry here yesterday, Rico. Why would Daniel want to talk to you about a job the day after his twin sister was murdered?”

  Rico’s lips separated as his brain seemed to spin out trying to find a suitable answer to throw off the cops. Rico couldn’t muscle through them since they were huge dudes with bulletproof vests and lots of cop stuff attached to their belts and vest pockets. A woman dispatcher wouldn’t stop talking as she droned out dispatch calls on the radios attached to their shoulders.

  “Hey, you know how sibs are. They fight all the time, man,” Rico said, shifting on his feet.