***
After taking an hour to relax and drink some hot tea, at Nate’s urging, Noel felt the now-familiar restlessness begin to build within her. She needed to keep writing. She went back into the office and slid into her chair, a little timidly at first, in memory of the dream, then eased herself back into her story. The tea had helped soothe her nerves, so she was a lot more focused now.
***
If anyone had asked Rebecca, when she was young, if she would grow up to be a contract killer, she might not have known what, exactly, that was at the time, but she would have said yes merely based on the sound of it. Even though it proved to be a very lucrative profession, she didn’t do it for the money; she did it for the sport. She loved the mental game – the planning, the stalking, the not getting caught. It was like a jigsaw puzzle; each piece was carefully laid to fit within another, and from those pieces that individually revealed nothing, a whole scene, a story, emerged.
Rebecca now considered these individual pieces and how she wanted the scene to look when she was done. Up to this point, she was just priming the pump, so to speak, like rat poison that doesn’t kill its intended target right away, but instead, works slowly by weakening the system until the rodent dies days later from internal hemorrhaging. From the outside, one would never guess at the absolute mess and destruction that went on inside… or the pain.
As she sat comfortably in her favorite chair, Rebecca plotted her next move toward exterminating her rat.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20TH
The dreams were a nightly occurrence now with Noel jolting awake only minutes after falling asleep, even though she felt like she’d been asleep for hours. She would wake up screaming to the point her throat hurt and her voice was hoarse in the morning, and sometimes she literally threw herself out of bed just to turn her light on. She kept feeling like someone was in the room, a shadow figure, only to find nothing there once the light was on.
Upon Nate’s insistence, Noel agreed to pay a visit to her naturopathic doctor to see if there was anything she could take to help her sleep, and to stop the dreams.
“Noel,” Dr. Andris said, “You need to slow down. You are over-taxing your adrenal system which is not only causing your body to release too much adrenaline, but also at inappropriate times, like when you’re sleeping. You are already showing severe signs of burn-out, and if you don’t work on relieving some of this stress, you could cause irreparable damage to your body.”
“I know, Dr. Andris,” Noel acknowledged, “I just need to push through for another couple weeks, then I can have all the R&R I want. Can you just give me something to take the edge off until then? I’ve got to get this book done, even if it kills me.”
“That’s nothing to joke about, Noel,” Dr. Andris said with pursed lips, her signature sign of silent disapproval when she knew to say no more. Then, she gave Noel some supplements to take to support her adrenals and hypothalamus, a prescription for Ambien to help her sleep, and even though it would go unheeded, she ordered lots of rest.
SUNDAY, APRIL 24TH – EASTER
Noel faithfully took the supplements and sleep aid that Dr. Andrus prescribed, and although she was still pushing herself to the max, she could tell they were helping. Her energy and focus were better, she made steady progress on her manuscript the last few days, and although she was still having bad dreams, she was no longer launching herself out of bed or waking up “seeing” things. In a way, this was an improvement, but the down side was that her dreams didn’t go away, they just morphed.
To compare, the puddle dream the previous week was clearly a dream. While it felt real at the time, there was no residual effect after waking, other than shaken nerves, and when she looked back on it, it was so “out there” that she didn’t even have to wonder. It still made her skin crawl to think about it, but that was it.
Her recent dreams, however, were more subtle. Like the puddle dream, they were very vivid and engaged all her senses, but they were different in that when she woke in the morning, she had an eerie feeling she couldn’t shake, like it was not so much a dream but an actual memory. She could only remember snippets here and there, but it was more of the emotional and physical impression they left that made her uncomfortable. Her body also felt like it had physically exerted itself, and she had a couple scratches and bruises she didn’t remember getting.
Now sitting in church next to Nate, Noel began to space off as the pastor gave his Easter sermon. Her mind floated from the words on the Easter program to the funny hats people still would be seen in public wearing, only on Easter, Noel thought, to the rainbow of light coming in through the stained glass window behind the pulpit. Then, she was suddenly back in the dream she had the night before.
It was night; the air was crisp but not cold. Noel was walking barefoot in a park, the cool, wet blades of grass poking the bottoms of her feet. A light breeze prickled the bare skin on her arms with goose bumps, and other than the soft swooshing sound of her pajama pants as she walked, the night was dead quiet. The stars glistened in the cloudless sky, and the moon was almost full, giving an abundance of light to see where she was going. As she walked, a noise caught her attention, some kind of clanking sound, and she decided to move in that direction.
As she crested a small hill, she saw what had made the sound. A shovel lay on the ground next to a small mound of dirt, and a shallow hole about six feet long by four feet wide was dug out. Looking around, she didn’t see anyone, and she wondered what a random hole was doing in the middle of a park.
Then, something shiny caught her eye in the moonlight and she crouched down to get a closer look. It was a silver-colored ring – a wedding band, to be exact. Only the upper edge of it was showing through the dirt, but she instantly knew what it was because it looked just like her and Nate’s matching bands with the Celtic swirl pattern engraved all the way around. She reached down to pull it out of the dirt but was met with resistance. “It must be hung up on something,” she murmured to herself. So she pulled with a little more force and then quickly retracted her hand as she inhaled with shock.
The ring was still wrapped around a ring finger, and that ring finger, already partially decomposed, was still attached to a hand. Noel, now shaking, covered her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. Then, fear crawled through her core. “Nate?” she whimpered, as the tears began to stream from her eyes. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away, but instead, got down on all fours and started digging with her hands.
The dirt was cold, damp and yielding, like it had been lightly thrown but not packed down. Its heady smell filled her nose, along with the slight hint of decay. As she dug, she uncovered the rest of the arm down to the shoulder. It was like the left arm had been extended upward when the body was buried, which only horrified Noel more as she envisioned Nate being buried alive. Then, with her last bit of waning courage, she removed the dirt from the face and froze.
Although, the rest of the face had almost completely rotted away, one thing remained preserved and intact – the eyes. Two big, blue, lidless orbs stared up at her, and one thing was for certain – that wasn’t Nate lying there… it was her.
“Hallelujah! Haaaallelujah! Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halleeelujah!” The church choir singing the closing song snapped Noel’s attention back to the present. Her skin was slick with a light layer of sweat, and Nate was looking at her. “Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet church voice.
Avoiding eye contact, Noel simply nodded her head and looked down at her hands in her lap. As the choir worked up to its final crescendo, she picked at the black dirt that was inexplicably caked under her fingernails when she woke up that morning.
MONDAY, APRIL 25TH
After taking the rest of Sunday off and spending some much-needed down time with Nate, Noel felt recharged and clear-headed and was back at the Jivin’ Java Coffee House first thing that morning. As she went to check her email, a message caught her attention right away. It was from Mary:
Hi Noel,
Just checking in to see how things are going. I haven’t heard from you in a few days. We’re still going to make deadline, right?
Call me if you need anything.
Mary
Noel typed out a quick response just to appease her.
Good morning, Mary,
Yep everything is on schedule. Can’t wait for you to read it!
Noel
Satisfied, Noel closed her email and decided to read back through what she had written the previous week as a refresher. She was just over halfway now, and it was time to set the events in motion for the climax. The tumultuous past two weeks, coupled with the email she just received from Mary, left her feeling kind of rebellious, ornery and bold, and that flavor was definitely going to come through in her writing.
“Alright, Mary, you want a manuscript? I’ll give you a manuscript,” Noel said in a mock defiant tone. “I think it’s time we put our evil nemesis in her place and let the heroine show her who’s boss.”
Then, she picked up where her story line left off and started writing a new scene – the beginning of the demise of the arch enemy.
***
Oh, she was mad. Mad didn’t cut it. Rebecca was irate, livid – enraged. “Arrrggghhh!” she screamed, as she picked up the vase on her counter and hurled it full force into the wall on the other side of the room. The glass exploded into pieces as it sent water flying in all directions.
The thirteen fresh-cut Black Baccara roses it contained lay scattered across the floor like the remains of an execution by firing squad. She had just bought those roses that morning to begin her thirteen day countdown toward the day she planned to put a permanent end to her rival’s life; she was going to snip the head off of one a day until none were left.
However, she was caught off guard, which was very difficult to do, by a sudden change in the course of events. Her target was threatening to change the rules of the game by wielding her newly-found power, which could end Rebecca forever. She couldn’t afford to follow her original plan with all the cat and mouse fanfare. She needed to be the one to strike first… and last.
Not bothering to clean up the mess on her floor, Rebecca walked across the room to her window, crushing the fallen roses under her boot.
“No more playing around,” she hissed. “It’s time to up the ante.”
***
Minutes ticked into hours while Noel’s mind and awareness were completely consumed by the scenes unfolding in front of her. As far as she was concerned, during her writing time, she no longer had to be Noel Casey. She could leave all that behind and just let go. As her fingers licked the keys of her laptop, automatically now, Noel released herself to step into the shoes of her heroine. It felt good to be someone else, and to be in a world where she was in control.
A full day raced by, and before she knew it, Megan, the barista, was working to get her attention because it was closing time and she was the last person remaining. Not hearing her at first, Noel incorporated her words into her story like when dreaming with the TV on and the sounds of the TV become a part of the dream. Then, as if suddenly snapping out of it, Noel looked up at Megan and jumped, startled to see someone standing there.
“You scared me,” Noel said. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
After a pause, and noticing the half horrified, half confused look Megan had on her face, Noel asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” Megan replied, a little too hastily in a high-pitched voice. “I was just letting you know that we’re closing, that’s all.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Noel, just trying to be polite now but really disconcerted about the way Megan kept looking at her.
As she started to get up to put her stuff away and get ready to leave, Megan continued to stand there staring at her with her mouth hanging open. So she asked, “Megan, did I do something?”
Not receiving a response other than a quiet shaking of Megan’s head, Noel persisted.
“What’s going on? You keep looking at me like I’m some kind of freak.”
Still eliciting no response, the thread that was Noel’s patience became stretched taut, threatening to snap. “I’ve been a customer here for years, and you’ve seen me almost every single day for the last two weeks.” Voice escalating, she continued, “What? Do I have a booger hanging from my nose or something? Stop looking at me like that!”
Apparently shaken by Noel’s sudden loss of temper, Megan mumbled something inaudible and pointed with a shaking hand down at Noel’s hands, which up to this point had been hanging down at her sides. Immediately, Noel’s temper faded into nothing as she looked down at her hands and then let out an ear-piercing scream.
In a flash, she ran to the restroom to look in the mirror. Megan followed and stood at her side in support. Together, they stared at their reflections in the mirror. Returning their shocked gazes were two faces. One was the horror-stricken visage of Megan, the other a very pale version of Noel with two big blue orbs for eyes staring back at her from the reflection.
It was her hair, however, that drew her gaze. What she saw was beyond explanation. On both sides of her head, just above the temple area, were two bright red patches, speckled with tiny spots of blood where her hair had been yanked out by the roots.
“Oh my God, what happened to me?” Noel could barely whisper in a shaking voice as tears started to roll from her eyes. A look of compassion now replacing Megan’s previous countenance, she told Noel what she had seen.
“You had been sitting there for the last several hours so completely focused on your writing that I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I could see you rocking back and forth and putting your head in your hands. I couldn’t see exactly what you were doing, but several customers commented that you kept repeating, ‘Get out of my head. Get out of my head.’’’
Crying with barely-controlled hysteria bubbling just under the surface, Noel whispered, “I don’t remember any of that.”
Noel lifted her hand to wipe the tears but had to first untangle all the hair from between her fingers. Feeling on the verge of vomiting, a sickening feeling washed over her as reality set in, and for the first time, she wondered if she really was losing her mind. She understood that Megan didn’t know what else to do for her and needed to close up the coffee shop, so Noel packed up her stuff and left.
She decided to walk the 13 blocks to her apartment. She could have Nate drop her off to pick up her car later. For now, she just needed to clear her head and calm down from the shock. Unable to deal with the reality of what she just faced in the mirror, her mind retreated back into the familiar landscape of her story where she felt safe and in control as author and creator of that world. She didn’t even try to fight it; thankfully her feet knew the way home. So, on she trekked, holding on desperately to her laptop bag, as well as her sanity.
***
Rebecca observed the twinkling lights of the city as it raced busily on into the darkness of night, completely oblivious to the fact that it was being watched by a predator. In fact, at that very moment, her own prey walked on, herself oblivious, right under Rebecca’s nose.
Giggling with the giddy delight of a little girl with a new toy, Rebecca thoroughly enjoyed this part of the game. Like an angler fish luring its dinner right into its open mouth, she felt the thrill of excitement as her target walked straight into her trap. Everything was going just as she planned it, and she had her target right where she wanted her. She felt it was now time to enact the final stage of her plan, make it a little more personal. Oh how she loved to watch her victims squirm.
***
By the time Noel slipped her key into the lock of her apartment door, she was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally. The events of the day, and even the last two weeks, felt so surreal, as if she was having an out-of-body experience and that she would wake up at any moment and life would be completely normal. This very thought put her on the verge of tears again as the juxtaposition between
the true reality and the one that existed in her mind warred for her credence. Her life felt so flip-flopped. In her dreams, she lived her worst nightmares, and in her waking hours, her nightmares came to life.
Noel walked into her apartment and flicked on the light. There, sitting at the table, was Nate.
“Where were you? I’ve been waiting for hours.” he said in an even voice.
“Writing,” was her one word response.
“I tried to call you several times. I even called the coffee shop and the machine said they closed at 8:00. That was two hours ago. Dinner’s long past cold now, Noel.”
Too depleted to even be annoyed by his accusatory demeanor, she set her bag on the floor and continued to stand just inside the door. At this point, Nate had not seen her face because she stood in the shadow, just beyond the edge of the dining room light.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Nate chided.
Accepting the challenge, Noel stepped into the light and looked at Nate head on. Nate gasped, unable to process what he saw. His expression changed from a look of horror to confusion, and finally to anger. “What the hell happened to you?!” he yelled. Not waiting for a response, he was on his feet and pulling her into the bathroom where the lighting was better.
“Have you looked at yourself? Noel…” At a loss for words, Nate just stood there staring at her. Tears welled up in Noel’s eyes as the feelings of hurt and isolation began to sink in. She felt like she had no one she could turn to, and she was afraid to tell Nate what happened for fear that he would tell her how he “told her so” about pushing herself too hard. The only response she could muster was a faint nodding of her head as her eyes diverted to a spot on the floor.
At this, anger was replaced with compassion in Nate’s voice as he regained his ability to speak and took her hand. “Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up, and then I want you to go straight to bed. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight so I don’t disturb you.”
Intrigue (Stories of Suspense) Page 21
