Branded (Fall of Angels)

by Keary Taylor

CHAPTER THREE

   

  I looked at the clock that hung above the kitchen sink as I wiped my hands dry on a towel.  Two thirty-six.  I felt pretty good despite the late, or rather early hour.  The fact that all the dishes were now sparkling clean might have had something to do with that.  I hated doing the dishes. 

  As usual, I had on every light I possibly could in the apartment.  As I said, darkness is the enemy.  The temperature was also turned down as low as I could stand it and still wear my usual tank top and cotton shorts.  Wearing anything else this time of night was just too uncomfortable.

  I grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.  I hated to admit it but I was addicted to caffeine.  In a way I had to be; how else was I supposed to go such long stretches without sleep?  I may not have needed as much as everyone else but I didn’t exactly have superpowers.  I popped the top open and took a long draw.  Bubbles swirled around my mouth for a short moment before they slid down my throat and fizzed in my stomach.  I tried not to think about what all the carbonation might be doing to the lining of my stomach and my liver.  It took me all of twenty seconds to down the can before I crumpled it and tossed it into the recycle bin under the sink.

  I made my way to my bedroom, grabbed my guitar and flopped onto my bed, my back leaned against the wood headboard.  I stared blankly at the light yellow wall ahead of me as my fingers wandered on their own over the strings. 

  An irritating prickling began on the back of my neck and I could somehow feel every detail of my scar.  This happened almost every night.  It was as if the demented angels were calling to me in my consciousness, whispering to me to come to them.  They would not even leave me alone in my waking hours.  It wasn’t enough for them to torture me while I slept. 

  I stopped strumming when a small sound disturbed the otherwise silent house.  The sound of a door creaking open.  I knew beyond a doubt all the doors were securely closed and locked.

  My heart started pounding as I realized what must be happening.  Someone had broken in, picked the lock.  My ears started ringing in a weird way as I dashed to the door that led into the rest of the house.  I crept silently to the bucket in a corner that held a large stash of sporting gear and grabbed a metal baseball bat.  Numbers were racing through my head almost faster than I could even subconsciously process them.

  As I reached the bottom of the steps, I heard two or three heavy things drop to the ground.  I inched my way up each stair, my back pressed to the wall as flat as I could make myself.  The sound of keys jingling floated down to my ears and light found its way into the stairway as a switch was flipped on in the living room above.  I thought I heard the sound of the fridge open and close.  This made no sense.  Why would the intruder be checking the empty fridge?

  I heard steps cross the kitchen back toward the living room and approach my hiding place.  My heart pounded so loudly, surely that was what brought the intruder to my hiding place.  Another switch flipped on and the stairway was suddenly filled with blinding light.

  “Stop right there!” I shouted as I held the baseball bat ready to swing away.

  The intruder had just stepped onto the first stair when I shouted.  He jumped violently, his foot slipping, and gave a yell.  He held up his hands and I was glad to see they were empty.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.  “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?!” I cried as I backed down another stair.  “What are you doing here?  There’s no money here, I can tell you that so why don’t you just leave and I won’t call the cops.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said as he lowered his hands.  “I didn’t break in, although I’m starting to wonder if you did.  What are you doing here?”

  Nothing he was saying made any sense.  “I work here!  I’m the caretaker.  Now please leave or I will call the cops!”

  “Calm down,” he said, a small smile almost spreading across his face.  “I’m the Wright’s grandson.  Paul and Sue were my grandparents.”

  “Were?” I demanded, my brain not quite comprehending everything that was happening.

  “Yeah,” he said as he looked at the cream colored carpet at his feet.  “They died a week ago in a car accident.”

  I didn’t say anything for a few moments.  Maybe he was lying.  I hadn’t heard anything about the owners of the house passing, but he did at least know their names.  If he was breaking in he had either known them somehow or had done his homework.

  “I promise I’m not lying,” he said as he looked into my eyes.  “I wouldn’t make this up.”

  I actually looked at the man before me for the first time.  He was tall, probably just over six feet.  He was well muscled and certainly looked fit.  His hair was a short, well-trimmed sandy blonde color, his features were strong and sharp.  His eyes piercing blue.  Had I not been so terrified I would have been tempted to stare open-mouthed.

  “My name’s Alex,” he said and looked as if he were debating if it was safe to come closer or not.

  Alex… the name rang a bell.  I had seen the name somewhere in the extra room downstairs, engraved on a trophy or something.  As I looked at his face a bit closer I vaguely recognized it.  His picture hung in several places upstairs, mostly in the master bedroom.  He was older now but he was definitely the same young man.

  “You’re telling the truth,” I said plainly.

  “Promise,” he said, that same smile tugging on his lips again.

  Realizing I was still holding the bat ready to swing, I lowered it to my side.  I suddenly felt conscious of how I looked.  I felt horribly exposed wearing a spaghetti strapped tank and knew my shorts were quite short.  They were the same ones I had worn since I was thirteen and were covered in frogs.

  He must have noticed me squirming and looked slightly away, that grin again begging to spread itself on his face.  “Um,” he said uncomfortably before looking back at me.  “Do you happen to have anything to eat?  I’m starving and the fridge up there is empty.   Guess I should have expected that.”

  I was taken aback by his request.  This seemed rather presumptuous, especially since I had just been ready to attack him with a bat.

  “Uh,” I stuttered as I tried to decide what my answer was going to be.  “Yeah, I guess,” I said, a disbelieving look crossing my face.

  “Thanks!” he said as a dazzling smile finally spread across his face.  It was if he had been stuffed full of sunshine and it was begging to burst out of him.  It stunned me for a moment.  A flock of butterflies swarmed in my stomach. 

  He followed me as I headed back toward the apartment.  It kind of felt like I was dreaming, but my dreams weren’t like this.

  “Wow,” he said as he looked around the dim family room.  “Looks exactly the same as when I was here last.”

  I didn’t say anything as I opened my door.  I wasn’t sure what to say. 

  “I decided to make the drive up here yesterday morning.  Driving the entire west coast took a bit longer than I expected.  I guess I should have grabbed something to eat on the way but I was ready to be done traveling.”

  Still slightly dazed by what was happening, I opened the fridge and examined its contents.  After a second I shut it.

  “I don’t know what you’d like.  Have whatever,” I said as I walked past him toward my bedroom.  I ducked inside for a moment and grabbed my pale pink bathrobe and wrapped it securely around myself.

  “I really appreciate this,” I heard him call, his head buried in the fridge.  “I know this must be really weird for you.”

  I walked back into the living room and watched as he pulled the makings for a ham sandwich out and set it on the counter. 

  “I didn’t realize you were here,” he said as he unscrewed the lid to the mayo.  “I should have guessed someone would be though when I read in the will about a big chunk of money being left to pay for the caretaker.  I wasn’t really thinking straight when I was reading it though.  It was kind of
a shock.”

  His sandwich made and the ingredients put away, he turned and sat at my shabby table.  “You want one?” he said through a mouthful, his expression unsure, as if he realized he should have asked about sixty seconds ago.

  I shook my head and didn’t say anything.  The last thing I expected to happen today was to have a man sitting at my table at three in the morning.

  “What’s your name?” he said as he swallowed.

  “Jessica,” I half whispered.  “Jessica Bailey.”

  “Jessica,” he said as if to test out how it felt on his lips.  “I’m really sorry about this.  If I would have known you were here, I would have waited until morning to come.”

  He scarfed the rest of the sandwich down in one bite.  I waited for a few moments, still staring at him in disbelief.  If there were any hints of tiredness in my system earlier they were gone now.  It felt like my entire body was buzzing with awareness.

  He swallowed his last bite and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.  “Won’t you sit down?”

  I moved stiffly to the other seat at the table.  I could not even begin to search for words to say. 

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he looked at me.  “You seem really shook up.”

  His words seemed to finally jar me from my stupor.  Way to make a good impression, I thought to myself.  He hadn’t even seen the worst of anything yet and he already probably thought I was crazy.  “Yeah,” I finally managed to spit out.  “You just… scared me.  I didn’t exactly expect to have a visitor in the middle of the night.”

  That smile tugged on his lips again.  “I’m sure.”

  He seemed to be studying me for several long moments and I felt self-conscious again.  I was sure my hair was a mess, its wild mane of curls everywhere.  I wasn’t wearing any makeup, though I hardly ever wore it.  Even though I had gotten some sleep the night before I knew the bags under my eyes must still look frightening.

  “I was in Africa when they called me.” I almost jumped when he finally spoke.  “I was doing volunteer work in Kenya.  I got the call just a few hours after the crash and I had to fly back the next day to take care of the funeral arrangements.  Wasn’t exactly how I had planned for my week to go.

  “They were buried in southern California and their lawyer told me that they had left everything to me.  Including all their real estate investments.”

  “And that would include this house,” I said quietly and wondered if he realized he was starting to ramble.

  “I guess so,” he said as he looked around.  “This house was always my favorite.  It’s quiet here, peaceful.”

  I nodded my head without saying anything.

  He said nothing else but stood and stretched.  This was followed by a yawn.  “Well I’m spent,” he said as he headed toward the door.  “Good-night, Jessica.  Thank you for the sandwich.”

  He paused at the door for just a moment, leaving it half open.  He looked into my eyes and it took me a moment to realize why fear and intrigue suddenly set into my heart.  Those eyes, perfectly blue.  Almost exactly like the exalted ones.

  Just as he walked out and quietly closed the door, I managed to whisper, “Good-night, Alex.”

  I crawled onto the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees and listened to his movements.  He walked up the stairs for a few moments before coming back down.  I heard a door open and close and I had a sudden terrifying realization.

  Alex was staying here.  I had heard him bring in suitcases.  He would be sleeping here at night.  And in the room that shared a wall with my own. 

  I don’t know why I had not realized this before.  If I were to fall asleep I would seriously freak him out when I started screaming.

  Of course as soon as I had this thought my eyelids became heavy.  It sucks sometimes how the brain works, when you tell it not to do something, that is of course the first thing it wants to do.  As if in response to this, my scar began to tingle again.

  A door opened and another one closed.  A few moments later I heard the shower in the other bathroom being turned on.  After a minute or so I heard a faint humming, a song I did not recognize.

  A thought occurred to me and I sprang from the couch and retrieved my laptop.  As soon as it was up and running I opened up the Internet.  I typed in the words and a fraction of a second later I was sorting through hits.  The fifth one down gave me what I needed.

  Alex had been telling the truth.  Paul and Sue Wright had indeed died a week ago in a car accident.  The article said Paul had likely fallen asleep at the wheel and drove into oncoming traffic, hitting a semi-truck.  The truck driver had not been hurt but they had not stood a chance in their little compact car.

  I heard the water shut off and I snapped the computer closed.  I listened for his movements again and heard the bathroom door open and his bedroom door close.  I counted to fifty and heard no more movement. 

  All my life I had been envious of everyone around me, just for the simple fact that they could sleep without fear, without having to face judgment for the dead.  Absentmindedly I placed a hand on the back of my neck and ran my fingers over the scar.

  After downing another Dr. Pepper, I sat back down on the couch and listened to the house breathe in the night.  The wind picked up slightly, whispering to the house to let it in and warm itself.  A light sprinkle began, giving the world a cleansing rinse from the day’s grime.  Finally the house sounded like it should this time of night.  Silent.