by Mark Edwards
BLAM, BLAM, she fired, her hands shaking.
She heard the thud of the table as it fell on the wooden floor, and the crashing of the ceramic vase in the room next to the one she was in. She then heard the clip clop of the boots on the hollow wooden floor coming towards her.
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM,BLAM, Holly fired and wouldn't stop until gun powder formed a shadowy mask over her face.
And there he was, standing before her. He stood there in his torn jacket suit, blood running down all of him, even his hair had blood stains all over. He held this pointed knife downward.
"Who are you, what do you want?"
He looked her over through his reddened eyes, freaking the heck out of her.
"I'll shoot if you don't leave."
He walked over. She fired. All she heard was the click; nothing happened. That was when she realized the killer had tricked her into wasting the bullets she had. The gun then fell from her quivering hands, giving her another dose of shock.
"No, please, don't hurt me. Please."
EIGHT
______________________________
NASSAU, BAHAMAS
Laura
We were locked away with each other in one of these resort comfy rooms in the Blue Lagoon Island. I lay there on my side, only my black lacy undies on, colored roses on top of my oily skin. That sultry massage from Chase was freaking mind-blowing. I listened on as his gifted long fingers gently plucked this idyllic piece of melody from his black gut guitar. It was oh so much of a sweet-tempered tender moment, only that I really couldn't hold it any longer. Knowing Chase was there, right behind me became so unbearable. Torture. I needed him to touch me again, releasing every desperate drip of love that's bottled within. I pulled myself from off the towel on the floor and then pulled the guitar from off him. I had a lot of acclaim for his oily chest muscles. And then he gave me a cheeky smile. I knew for sure he figured what time it was – Time to pluck my strings instead. He held my head and pulled it closer to his; by now our nose played against each other, sending a delicious chill down my spine.
“I love you, Laura,” he breathed.
“I love you too...” But that was when my mind suddenly got distracted. I heard 'Westervill'. It was actually some news cast on the Tele in the other room.
“Just a minute, Chase.” I stopped. I had a finger over my lips, listening on, pensively.
“Laura?”
“Sorry, Chase, just a min.” I immediately leaped from the floor and made my way into the other room.
'...the latest victims, sources say, a couple in South Westervill, whose boat and hut were the scenes of this brutal act.'
“Laura?” Chase ventured. He was standing right behind me.
“Sorry, hon; was just taking a glance at the news. Shocking.”
“But Laura...”
“Wait!” I shrieked, holding on to his hands. “Let me hear this.” I continued my focus, attentively, on the television set even though I held Chase's hand.
'...But there's this young lady, we understand, who happens to be a lucky survivor of the deadly games of this assassin. Though lucky to be alive she remains unconscious in a Westervill Medical facility; her condition is considered stable, sources close to our newscast say. “Could this be a re-run of the 'Hoag Massacre' that plagued our county almost 2 years ago?” Mayor Marmas says. Keep following our newscast for the latest on the return of the Bloody Westervill Saga. This is Keith Populam for S4 News.'
'And next, places to go and the exciting stuff you can do when you stay here in the Bahamas...'
CLICK.
The screen went blank; there went the picture on the Television. Chase placed the remote on the foyer table.
“This is crazy, Chase.”
“Well, I know but we are on a vacation. I know law enforcement can handle that, Laura.”
“But...”
“But?”
“Could it be?”
“Could it be, who?”
“I don't know,” I muttered, moving over to the window to the right of the room, where I could see the tip of the archipelago.
“Chase, this dream I had a few days ago.”
“Wut dream?”
“About the killer whom I've ended a year and a half ago, Hoag.”
“The same one who tried to kill you in your dream after he came back?” Chase shook his head in disgust, “oh, please, Laura. What, he's back in real life now? Yeah right.”
“But what if he didn't die, Chase?”
“You did it, didn't you?”
“Almost sure I did.”
“And if you say you took him out then you did, Laura.”
“I know but...”
He looked me over as if to say – I know that look, Laura. “You not thinking of?”
“Maybe I should be going back to Westervill.”
“What, go hunting for some killer you killed? Laura, you are on a vacation; we are supposed to be spending quality time together, not moping over some fricking bizarre dream,” he ranted, making me jump to the crashing spill of shards of broken glass after he slammed the foyer table into the wall, using his foot.
“What if that bitch didn't die? How do I know he isn't the killer on the loose?”
“You know, Laura, you probably been in the force too long or you spend too much time, watching them fricking horror movies,” he bursted out, pulling away from my hands. He pulled his black sweatpants over his boxers.
“Chase, where you going? You better bring your arse back here,” I fumed, after seeing him kicking the front door open.
“So, you become my momma now, right?” he said, stopping at the door.
“Chase, you know you mustn't play.”
“You may be top cop but you don't talk to me like I'm a fricking kid, you hear me, Laura? Don't talk to Chase like he's a fricking kid,” he pointed.
I grabbed his finger, viciously. “You better watch your mouth, Chase; you better watch your mouth, you hear me?”
“Wut, you going to place a gun on my forehead, Miss Cop?”
“You better watch that mouth of yours, Chase,” I continued warning. I wanted to do things.
“Let go off my fricking fingers, woman,” he shrugged.
“Don't make me do things in here, Chase. Something's obviously wrong with you. Chill.”
“Come on, go ahead, do it,” he shrilled, pointing the top of his head towards me.
SLAP!
He held on to the left side of his face, giving me a cruel glare after the ear-shattering jawbone jab I served him.
“What, you planning on doing something about that?”
He looked me over as if he was ready to kill. A rigid line etched between his eyes.
“Come on, Chase, you want to do something about that?”
“No, cause if I do something then they'll charge me for murder.”
“You know you better watch the words you use in here, Chase.”
“You know what, Laura? I'm out of here.”
“You not going anywhere, Chase.”
“Laura, get some clothes on.”
BLAM!
That was the door; even the roof shook, the way he slammed it after heading off.
NINE
______________________________
Chase
That fricking woman, making me say the word 'fricking' more than I should. I'm not afraid of her – yeah she's a top cop and I'm a bank clerk but hey, I'm still not letting her talk down to me like that. Hell no. I'm supposed to be the man in this.
I continued watching the dolphins doing their synchronize leaps from the azul Blue Bahamas waters, churning salty white splashes on us, their terrified audience. You'd wonder if they, like us human, have rehearsal sessions. I would be only too happy to show my gratitude but another glance at the blue signboard to my right – Do not feed the Dolphins, was a subtle reminder that only a hand clap will do.
“They're lovely, aren't they?”
I looked up, covering my e
yes from the orange protruding glare of the sun, which masked most of her face.
"Yes, they sure is," I answered back.
"The name's Rhonda," she smiled, stretching a hand out. She flashed her chestnut hair behind her shoulder.
I looked up at her tall limbs. Nice swimwear she's wearing, I said in my mind, following the steep curves of her high-cut lines. She had the grace of a supermodel.
"Oh, I'm Chase, nice meeting you, Rhonda. I guess you're the missing girl from the Baywatch episodes, right?" I rose from the sand. And yes I did rise.
"Oh, please," she chuckled, trying to hide the way her face turned pink.
"So, you're from around here?"
"Nah, just visiting from Ireland."
"Interesting accent you've got there, Rhonda."
"Thanks, so, you?"
"Oh, I'm from Ohio; I actually manage a bank," I tried to impress.
“Great, so I suppose you could assist me with a loan then.”
“Shouldn't be a problem, Rhonda, but what's the purpose?”
“Capital injection, my business,” she smiled. “Challenging times.”
“So, what kind of a business you run?”
“Actually, I'm an artist, painter.”
“Interesting. Would love to see some of your work.”
“You're interested in art, Chase?”
I hoped she didn't realize how interesting I found her protruding bust in those red bikinis. “Yes, I love art. I'm an appreciator of art.”
“Happy to hear,” she cheered. The wind continued blowing strands of her chestnut hair over her face.
“So, who's your favorite artiste?”
Oh shit, “De..Da..Vinc...” I scratched my head.
“Never heard of that one before?”
“Well, he's kind of new...a new kid on the block,” I babbled.
“Is he from France?”
“Nah, New York.”
“What kind of work he does?” she pressed, arms folded and her greenish eyes opened up giving me an attentive pierce.
“Ah, hum, watercolor...graffiti.”
“I see,” she sputtered, arms folded. By now she would have figured how much inept I was to art. “Nice meeting you, Chase. Got to run now.”
“I would love to see your work though, and maybe even learn the art, starting with you.”
I wondered what her answer would be even as she stood there, looking me over. “And who to tell? My bank might have a branch over in Ireland...we could talk about your loan.”
“Apartment 6B, The Suites.”
Apartment 6B, The Suites, I nodded, watching her walking away, vaunting her arse, which had more pride than a peacock.
*
“Apartment 6B, The Suites, right?”
I turned around.
“Laura?” I wasn't too sure how long she stood there, watching me or even listening to the stuff I was saying to the other woman.
“She's pretty,” Laura giggled. I knew no amount of smile could tuck away the jealousy within her. This was our 4th year of being a confused couple.
“I guess you're here to raise hell now?”
“No, Chase. I'm here to apologize about our fight this morning.”
“Really now, Laura? Really now? I know you want to blow that woman's brain out. We were only talking about banking – a loan.”
She wiped the strands of hair from over her dark eyes, which had become watery by now. Must have been the wind. “Chase, you're right. I need to be spending time with you on our vacation. I'm sorry, Chase. I care about you.”
“Laura, our relationship is just so, I don't know, crazy.”
“I know, Chase,” she cried. I looked into her reddened eyes. “I'm never afraid of the bad guys; I'm never afraid of killers. The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you, Chase.”
It was just one of those moments. We listened to the clapping and the cheers from the onlookers. Their nosy faces sent a warm chill deep down. One thing I knew for sure, Laura was the love of my life, though messed up or relationship was.
TEN
______________________________
Laura
6 pm seemed darker than usual. I pulled my grocery bag from off the backseat. I kicked the door of my chevy closed and then I moved towards the front door of my apartment. Everything felt wrong. A glance towards my left window confirmed my suspicion. My heart ticked on faster. The curtain moved. It wouldn't have been my mind playing tricks, or was it? But I did see the flicker of lights. Maybe it was Chase. But that couldn't have been. He had gone to a bank function and he wouldn't be home till about 11 that night. I rested my bag of groceries on the front wall and popped my revolver out. I tip toed towards the entrance of my apartment. I pulled my mobile phone out from the pocket of my striped blouse.
“Detective Laura here, I'm about to shoot a suspect who's in my apartment. I need back up, right away.”
I shoved the cellphone in the pocket of my pants, taking a keen watch of my surroundings. Now all my focus was on the stainless steel silver knob of my front door. I took one more look around. I saw nothing, neither did I hear anything, apart from the chirps of the pair of birds on the utility pole wires above, and the thud of my heart against my chest, of course.
Time to open the door.
I turned the knob; I listened the clunking of its components. The door then opened up but not without a squeak. By now I was greeted with nothing but darkness and quietness. I listened to the quivering steps of my heels against the ceramic tiles in my hallway. I would never have dreamt my own apartment would have turned this spooky. There was another set of footsteps. I stood still; the other set of footsteps continued. I held my finger only too close to the trigger of my revolver, ready to take this culprit out. I somewhat felt watched throughout the darkness of my own home. All I needed was just 2 seconds, just to see who it was that awaited me and then half of a second to put that sucker out. I shuffled in the dark, listening to the thud of my feet against my own furniture, moving towards the light switch, which seemed unusually further away. I, however managed to flick the lamp on, which stood on my foyer table and that was when I saw a silhouette of a knife behind the curtains in my bedroom.
“Who are you?” I blazed. The only thing I heard was silence.
I took a cup from the foyer table, still pointing my weapon before me, and threw it inside my room, waiting for some form of response. I saw nothing more neither did I hear anything but the rolling of the cup on the floor.
“You better come out, whoever you are,” I warned, clutching on to my weapon firmly with both hands as if my life depended on it.
“You better not make me come in there,” I continued, taking another step to my bedroom, more than happy to make someone's face disintegrate.
“Come on, Sucker; I know you're in there.” Two more guarded steps took me to the entrance of my bedroom. In a jiffy, I flicked the switch of my bedroom light on. Had it not been for my furniture then I would have called it an empty room. No sign of the intruder. But then I looked over at my wardrobe. It looked invitingly suspicious.
I moved over, counting my steps, still remaining on the lookout for anyone or anything that would dare enter my bedroom. I contemplated the wooden knob of my wardrobe as it stared me back. I nervously placed my left hand towards it, still holding my gun with my right. This was the moment. I felt sharp pains to the left of my head. I heard the ticking away of my heart. I pluck the wooden door of my wardrobe. It opened up with a sudden jerk.
AAAHH!!!
Every single strand of hair on my skin popped upright. My fingers froze and so did my vision. She stood there in my wardrobe, motionlessly, her bluish eyes wide open. It was this woman, apparently a victim, stashed away in my wardrobe. Blood drained down her forehead and all over the tight-fitting muddy gray dress she was wearing. She had a long greasy curly blond ponytail that rested on her bosom. I couldn't help but noticing the wail marks around her neck.
It happened so fast but timely, in my state
of shock. I felt cold strong hands around my neck. I was attacked from behind. My eyes instantly became watery and I tasted the bitterness in my mouth after every cough. That was when I realized that he had a cord around my neck.
“Who are you?” I squealed.
“I'm going to kill you the same way I've done it to her, Laura,” he jeered.
I fought him with my elbows even as he pulled the cord tighter around my neck.
“You-better-let- me go,” I forced out. I was losing it.
I searched for his crotch and then I grabbed it. I decided I was going to weaken this sucker before he ended me with this cord. I squeezed his crotch even harder even as the cord tightened around my neck, making blood run downwards. I squeezed even harder.
* * *
And I squeezed even harder. I wouldn't relent; I wouldn't let go.
“No,” I shrieked after finding myself holding and squeezing the crotch of my boyfriend, Chase, who had been lying there with me in the bed.
“Laura, what is it?” he blurted out in pain, I would imagine, after waking up and seeing me clinging to his crotch while panting away.
The throbbing of my heart continued even though it weakened by the second. I looked around the low lit room, searching for my wardrobe. It wasn't in the room. The radio clock on my night table had 3:01 am flickering on it in large red fonts. Then I finally realized what had happened – a nightmare. It was only a dream. It felt so real though. Chase and I were actually still in the Bahamas.
“Can you let go off me now, Laura?” Chase said, giving me this wild kind of stare.
“Sorry, Honey. I had another stupid dream,” I answered.
“About?”
“One of those nightmares.”
“Wh-at kind of nightmares, Laura?” From the probing stare he gave me I knew he was ready and waiting to tell me how silly my cop dream was.
