by C. S Luis
"Let’s never do that again,” she whispered.
She drove off into the street. Before heading home, she stopped at the grocery store and got some bread, milk, turkey slices, and cheese. Of course, she didn't have any intentions of paying for any of these things, and she stuffed the items into her sack. She usually came to this small store because there were no cameras and no one ever paid her any attention. But she always bought something so they wouldn't grow suspicious, even if it was just a piece of gum.
She couldn’t pay even if she wanted to; she needed the last thirty dollars for gas. Alex managed to get out without gathering suspicion, but the store owner had his eyes on her and she hurried out after waving in his direction.
Her house was at the end of a dead-end street; it was a modest home, older but in decent condition. When she had first come to live here, the outside was clustered with old items and she helped make it more homely in any way she could. The old woman was in no condition to take care of things; besides, Alex had to earn her keep.
Alex opened the door, finding the old woman planted on the couch with a cup of English tea. Alex knew she could always find her there watching her soaps and talk shows.
"Oh, dear, when did you get in?" The old woman asked, finding Alex at the living room entrance. Alex sat beside her and put a hand over hers.
"Are you hungry?” She asked the old woman. “I brought us some sandwiches." The old woman smiled; her eyes were sad, and she seemed lost. She seemed to be forgetting who Alex was more often now. And at times, Alex found her staring at things, trying to remember how to use them or who the people in the pictures were that cluttered her coffee tables and mantle.
"That’s why I love you so much, Jesse,” she said, putting a cold wrinkled hand to Alex's cheek. “You’ve always been so caring."
Jesse was long dead; a single photo of a woman sat on the cluttered mantle a step away from them. The old woman hadn't stopped referring to Alex as Jesse. The photo was just as old as the rest of the house, and Jesse was most likely the old woman’s daughter. She had no other family and no one else that cared. No friends came to visit and no relatives came to care for her.
A single old friend had died a year earlier, and if not for Alex, the old woman would have ended up in a home where the old were always abandoned by their own. The old lady had no one now but her. With the little social security she got, she managed to make ends meet. Alex tried her best to make it last, stealing when she could, and skipping to check on her when she could. They took care of each other. Her part-time job at Hot Topic was one of the reasons she often skipped class. And it’s where she got most of her makeup.
"I'll make you something to eat. Would you like some more tea?”
The old woman smiled warmly but didn't say anything as Alex rose. Alex walked into the kitchen, pulling out a plate and knife; she emptied her bag with the items from the store that she had taken and put them on the counter.
"A young man came to the house today,” she heard the old woman say from the other room over the noise of the TV. Alex listened as she set the bread and slices of turkey down, and then she took the mayo and cheese out, also putting them on the counter.
"Oh?" Alex responded. Had the old woman had one of her dreams again? Sometimes she was confused by what she saw on the TV. Or maybe a salesman did stop by; did people still go door to door these days?
"He asked for Maya, but I told him he had the wrong house, that only my Jesse and I lived here.”
Alex froze, dropping the knife on the counter and poking her head from the kitchen entry. “Then he made me some tea, and we chatted a bit about the Roman history, and he just went on his way, but he was so polite. Such a strange man; he had the strangest eyes too..."
Alex slowly came out of the kitchen looking frightened, and her hands could hardly stop shaking. The old woman didn’t look back; she just kept her eyes on the TV as if she had never said a word.
"What did he want?" Alex asked as her lips began to quiver.
“He said the strangest things and talked a lot about the past. I don't remember,” the old woman said again, drifting away; the images on the TV were not enough to snap her back into reality.
“What did he look like?” Alex asked, although, she was regretting the question now, she had to know.
“Oh,” the old woman struggled, and her eyes wandered. Alex kneeled in front of her and put both hands on her knees, blocking the view of the TV.
"This is important. What did he look like?" She again asked.
The old woman looked at Alex. "What, dear? Who do you mean?"
Alex rose; she knew it was no use. The old woman's mind wasn't what it used to be when they had first met. She walked back into the kitchen, biting down on her lip. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to leave immediately but couldn’t get herself to leave the old woman alone. Who would care for her?
“No one,” she whispered; her hands were now trembling as she held the knife, and she put it down for a moment. She wanted to cry but she had to be strong. Could he have found her? Everything pointed to it. She poured water into a cup and added a tea bag. The old woman loved tea.
"Very strange man, very young, good looking. You would have liked him, Jesse," the old woman said again as if she had tapped into a region of her memory again. In fact, she was a light switch, one moment recalling what she had done twenty years ago, then forgetting her own name two minutes later.
Alex turned with the cup in her hand. "He had the strangest eyes; they were a strange color…like purple,” she said again and laughed. “Oh, that can't be right dear…purple eyes…I must have imagined it. But he was dressed like you, all in black…you would have liked him, Jesse dear."
Alex gasped and dropped the cup of tea, and it shattered before her feet. The old woman hadn’t heard the shattered cup; she was in la la land again, transfixed on the images on the TV as if they were real people.
Alex hurried and got the broom and dustpan from the pantry and cleaned up the mess. She then grabbed another cup from the cabinet and poured hot water into it, throwing a teabag inside. She started making her way into the living room area, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking; she was now hearing the old woman mumbling something she couldn’t quite understand. She often did that, like she was talking to someone not there. She placed the cup on the table next to the couch, and the old woman glanced over but only noticed the cup of tea. With a smile, she picked it up, blowing and taking tiny sips from the cup.
He had found her, and she didn't know how. But he had, and now he was probably lurking, waiting for his chance to grab her.
“Did you know that Romulus founded Roman? It is said that he and his twin brother were raised by wolves.” His voice found her even in her mind. “In his claim to power, he raided, abducted, and raped the village women.”
“And like him, you abducted me, and raped…”
He grabbed her chin; the word froze on her lips as he released and caressed her cheek. She feared him, not his lashing, but his ravenous lovemaking.
“How can I abduct my own wife? I’ve never raped my wife. I make passionate love to her,” he sneered; his lips were inviting, and she hated herself for thinking that.
“Wife?” She laughed. “I was never given the choice to be yours. And as for your passionate lovemaking, it’s nothing more than fucking. There’s no love involved.”
He pulled her closely, and their lips were inches from one another. Their bodies pressed tightly against one another.
“Maya, we’re going to have to do something about that dirty mouth of yours. But it’s the filth that comes out of that mouth that makes me want you so much!” He grimaced, and she trembled.
“Admit it, you like it as you say when I fuck you.”
Her body always betrayed her, and she melted in his arms, and she was the first to kiss him again. She hated herself for falling so easily.
Even now, she felt him and sensed him, the smell of him on her skin and hair. It wa
s all she could breathe.
“Maya,” she heard his voice calling. “I need you…”
“Tell me you want me!” He ordered her as he forced her into his bed. She was under his spell; she wanted him inside her again.
Alex shook her head. No, she forced her lips to say. I won’t. Not this time. But she felt him on her, mounting her pale figure, his white body moving over her as he pinned her to the mattress with his defined form. He was inside her, ravaging her with his lovemaking, always a brutal lover. He loved to hear her scream, loved to hear her beg and moan. She was embarrassed to admit it, that she always loved it so well. But he was the only thing she had ever known since she was only seventeen.
She held her wrist, clutching the bracelet; it was glowing red, and the voice called again. The old woman never once glanced over at her; she was lost in the cup she held in her hands, watching The Bachelor on TV. She didn't understand that soon, she might not be around if the man were to return. She would have to leave. And she didn't want to.
Alex went into the kitchen and grabbed her bag; before leaving, she turned to look at the old woman. She was still drinking her tea and watching TV. She would be alright, Alex thought, and for now, she had to do something she had neglected to do for a long time. It was time to see her son before she lost the chance.
19
The Eerie Sound
It was late in the day, school had ended and Mr. Peterson was at his desk checking over the remaining items of his lesson plan. Clearing his desk, he prepared his lesson plan and after checking a few other items, he gathered the remainder of the pencils and loose pens into a cup at the edge of his desk. Doing so, he noticed the markings at the end of his desk and recalled Tina’s fingernail carving the end. He hadn’t even realized her nails were sharp enough to leave a marking. But they obviously had.
That girl was the devil, he thought. There was something unnatural about her. But then this whole school seemed to be something unnatural, how many times had he said that. And Dr. Edwards had never believed him, but then he wasn’t someone to be trusted. He obviously had the markings of something unnatural himself. And now, that granddaughter of his, she seemed just like an ordinary girl to the untrained eye, but he knew better. He could almost sense trouble and sense unnatural evil. And ever since Dr. Edwards made him take that cross off his wall, it seemed he no longer felt safe in his own class.
He felt over the cross dangling from his neck. His only comfort. Prayer was needed; these kids no longer had respect for adults. Prayer and school punishment was required. Nowadays, you couldn’t strike a child without having some kind of authorities at your doorstep sending you off to prison for doing so. Didn’t they see that discipline was the only chance of saving these kids and keeping them out of trouble and away from the devil’s path? If he was in charge, things would certainly change around here.
Mr. Peterson stopped what he was doing and looked towards the doorway of his class. The last student had cleared out a long time ago and it was later in the day, he should be on his way out but he wanted to make sure things would be ready for the following day. He was the only functional teacher left, and of that, he was certain. Perhaps the new principal would see that about him. He still hadn’t figured him out yet. He’d see where he fit in all this soon enough and make his conclusion about him. Maybe he was the change that this school needed.
Again, he looked up. He had clearly heard it this time. A sound coming from the hallway, what did it sound like, scratching? He rose, taking a few steps as he tried to make out the sounds. Some kid’s squeaky shoes, the janitor’s noisy cart making its rounds.
He put his lesson plan down and stepped towards the entrance of his class. He poked his head out, there it was again he looked both ways down the hallway to his left then immediately back to his right. The sounds stopped but there seemed to be an eerie, unnatural silence in the air.
He swallowed and moved back to the inside of his classroom. He believed it was time to go. He grabbed his lesson plan and reached into the lower drawer grabbing the keys among the clutter inside. Swiftly turning, he dropped the keys and quickly knelt down to retrieve them, but in the process, he dropped his lesson plan and the few loose papers scattered over the marble flooring in front of him and near the door of his classroom.
He carelessly reached for them, muttering nonsense to himself until he realized he was no longer alone. He once again heard that familiar sound coming from the entrance. As he slowly looked up, he saw her as clearly as he saw the paper under the step of her sneakers.
Tina? He now realized that it was her fingernail making the sound, a scratching sound. She smiled over at him, but it wasn’t a greeting.
20
Claudia
We arrived home a little later that afternoon; Michael had wanted to stop and pick up some groceries. As we entered the kitchen to put the groceries away, I noticed him slowly emptying the bag as though he had something on his mind. He almost looked distracted about something as he folded the bags and put them in the pantry for later use in an almost zombie-like state.
“So, Michael,” I asked, emptying the last plastic bags. “What do you have planned for tonight? These are a lot of groceries. Are you making your famous chicken casserole, or perhaps enchiladas?” I put the remaining items into the refrigerator. His silence became more, obvious as he slowly turned.
“I invited a guest over,” Michael announced without looking over at me. The guilt was obvious on his face. I was surprised I hadn’t even noticed it before; I read it as I had always done long before his lips betrayed him. Perhaps he had figured I would, and when I hadn’t, he decided it was time to speak.
“Who?” I asked. He didn’t have to say anything, for almost immediately I knew who he had invited.
“Dr. Black?” I finally replied myself.
“I invited Dr. Black for dinner,” he said smiling over my words. He cringed as I glared at him in disbelief, unable to speak or even react at that moment. That was the last person I would have thought of inviting to dinner. Not only had I insulted him, but also, well, the guy gave me the creeps.
“You didn’t?” I yelled at Michael. He tried to smile, failing miserably.
“I thought you would be happy,” he said to me.
Happy? Was he serious? He invited Dr. Black for dinner. Why would that make me happy?
“Why would you think that?” I snapped, storming out of the kitchen.
“Well, you guys did have had a bad intro,” he argued while following me out. “I was only trying to help. I told him you felt a little bad about what happened.”
I rolled my eyes back at him in disbelief. “You told him it was my idea?” I yelled and gasped in frustration, racing up the stairs.
“Claudia, what’s the big deal?” He called out. I screamed in frustration, when he said that.
21
Dr. John Black
After Michael left my office, I gathered my things while considering my earlier discussion with Bryce and my uneasiness and unsettling attractions with Miss. Belle. Although I denied it was an attraction but more like a distraction as Bryce had described it. Either that or I was going insane. I also concluded perhaps there was a possible chemical link influencing my behavior patterns? That was always a very strong possibility.
Maybe there was a reason Bryce had interrogated me so boldly, asking whether I had more information that would interest him. Perhaps he already knew?
I grabbed the keys from the top center drawer and locked the briefcase after securing my laptop inside.
Why had I so immediately accepted dinner? Not only had I done so but I hadn’t even thought about it. I just automatically jumped at the invitation. This wasn’t only a bad idea because I was on a mission, but also because I was trying to keep my mind clear. Did Miss Belle also have the ability to manipulate strong-willed minds like my own? Had I underestimated her? But then, why hadn’t this manipulator worked if that was the case? So many questions and I had neither the ti
me nor the answers. I was supposed to be working, not pondering my emotions and confusions as to why things were suddenly making no sense to me.
So, when it happened, when the light of the center of my fancy watch began to flash, I didn’t immediately run out of the office. In fact, I was closing the office door when the watch blinked slightly, going off like an alarm clock until I glanced down and realized what was happening.
At once, I dashed out with the briefcase in hand coming out into the empty hallway and looking at the watch as I silenced it. The movements were coming from the second floor; I hadn’t yet placed the other devices in the cafeteria, so it could only mean the second-floor devices were being activated by it.
I took the stairwell closest to the library to my right in this case and ducked up the dark staircase. Slowly, I opened the briefcase, jerking it slightly and pressing a single button near the handle. It opened a different compartment, and from within, a secured Desert Eagle awaited my slender fingertips.
I gripped it, feeling the steel on my full palm and lifted it away easily. But I quickly realized where I was. Of course, my first reaction was to ignore such things. What did it matter? But Bryce’s voice was mocking from some area of my head to play the part; meaning at this point, no weapons to be used, at least not here. I secured the Desert Eagle back into the briefcase and closed it and reached for the only thing that could lead me to its location.
With the crystal strongly in my grip, I moved forward to the top of the staircase. Above, I could see my circular devices blinking slightly. No human or animal could have activated the device. It didn’t work like that.
There was some relief in me; the mission would end once I secured it. Some, I say, because there was that strange sensation within that was now pulsating through my blood. It was distracting and confusing because it felt like a part of me I had only now discovered. I couldn’t understand it, just as I couldn’t explain the feelings or emotions that engulfed me so suddenly and abruptly. I didn’t understand and I didn’t want to.
