Unconvinced, Tina proposed: "Why don't you stay home today and we can do something together to get your mind off things for a while?"
He quickly protested. "I have a lot to do today at the office and there are a few meetings scheduled as well. I'll be okay, sweetheart. Trust me." He picked up the glass of orange juice Tina had poured out and took a gulp. He then headed into the living room to grab his briefcase from the sofa.
"Oh my God!" Amina's jaw dropped while standing in front of the television.
TRAILER PARK MASSACRE was the headline at the top of the screen. Trent and Tina moved in closer to watch the news report. Other than for the reporter's voice emanating through the TV, the house was completely quiet.
Upon hearing what had happened, Trent and Tina glanced at each other with the look of dread on their faces. Tina's eyes said to him, "Could it be?"
Trent knew what she was thinking.
"This is terrible!" Amina exclaimed. "Who could have killed all those people and for what? Is anyone safe now?"
"It's awful," Trent agreed.
"Horrible!" Tina added.
"And so close after the death of those waterworks guys," Amina noted.
Trent picked up his briefcase. He then headed over to Tina and kissed her on the forehead. "I have to go," he said quietly.
Tina looked at him as if he couldn't really be walking out of that door after what they all just learned.
"I'll call you," Trent assured her.
"Okay," she replied grimly.
After Trent left, Tina hurried upstairs as Amina turned to tidy the living room. Tina peeked inside the nursery where Little Foster was asleep. She then went into the master bedroom and called Trent from her cell. There was no way she was going to await his call.
"Tina, with everything that's going on," he started, "we have to be able to see like we don't see and hear like we don't hear. There's nothing we can do about what's going on right now."
"It's just horrible," she spoke softly so Amina couldn't hear. "I feel responsible for all those families…"
"Don't! You didn't kill anyone. You're going to have to block it out somehow. Maybe when these blood suckers see that regardless of what they do, we're not giving in, they'll stop all of this."
"You think so?" Tina was hopeful.
"I do."
After the call ended, Tina went to take a shower. As she approached the bathtub, through the white curtain, she instantly saw a shadow dart from one side of it to the next. Afraid to advance any closer, but overpowered by sheer curiosity, she carefully clutched the edge of the curtain and prayed silently before yanking it back. The tub was clear. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Tina twisted the knobs, then stepped under the warm shower. Turning around to rinse her back, she immediately felt something on her feet. Clearing the water from her eyes, she looked down and to her horror, found the tub filled with black beetles crawling around, against and on top of her feet. She let out a shrilling scream which sent Amina running as fast as she could up the staircase.
"Miss Tina! Miss Tina!" Amina cried, her heart racing with every step. When she got to the bathroom, clearly out of breath, Tina was already out of the tub, standing on a bath mat drenched in tears.
"Miss, what's the matter?" Amina snatched a towel from the rack and covered Tina's naked body.
"Amina!" Tina hugged her tightly. "There's got to be hundreds of them! See!" She turned and pointed at the tub.
Amina quickly went to have a look. "Hundreds of what, Miss?" She looked at Tina, then at the tub again.
Tina was perplexed. She only found pebbles of water settled onto the base of the tub. "There were… little black, beetles in there," she slowly revealed.
Amina was startled. "Beetles?"
Tina kept staring at the bathtub.
"I've gotta go." She finally shook her head moments later.
"Where, Miss Tina? Where are you going?"
"I've… I'm going for a drive." Tina hurried past her and headed into the bedroom. Amina followed.
"Please watch the baby while I'm gone. I just need some fresh air. I won't be gone long."
"Yes, Miss," Amina replied. "I'll take care of the baby." She watched for a minute as Tina hastily got dressed and hoped that what she was witnessing was not a repeat of what had occurred not too long ago.
Tina checked on Little Foster one last time before heading out. The child, as usual, was sleeping like a log in spite of the recent ruckus. Tina dashed out the door, hopped into the sedan and took off down the gravel driveway. Feeling intense emotional pressure that seemed to be rapidly building, she sobbed uncontrollably at the wheel while driving aimlessly along the boulevard. Peace of mind is what she craved more than anything else, but was the one thing that appeared elusive.
"Taylor, why did you have to go?!" She slammed the top of the steering wheel. "I have no one to talk to. No one!" The tears were streaming.
As she drove past a playground ten minutes later, time had pretty much slowed to a crawl. Everything around Tina appeared to move in slow motion: The children on the swings; the ones playing jump rope; adults nearby chatting with one another. Something was definitely amiss. Every fiber of her being confirmed it. The scary part was not knowing what it was.
Tina looked at them with heightened curiosity; taking her eyes off the road ahead for at least half a minute. Then suddenly, things picked up again. Everything was normal once more.
"What just happened?" she murmured. "I don’t feel so good right now."
She rested her elbow on the door and braced her head against her hand.
7
Landing
Sitting on the plane next to the young agent made Solange feel like a trapped animal and a hardened criminal. The handsome, plain-clothed officer was one of several men assigned to accompany her on the flight that morning.
He shifted slightly in the chair that seemed to fit him like a boot. "Comfortable?" He looked her way.
Surprised by his concern, Solange hesitated at first, then said, "I guess so."
He glanced back at where a couple of his colleagues were seated, then refocused his attention on Solange. "Are you ready to face what you've been charged with back home?" He spoke quietly so as not to draw the eyes of others.
"I don’t have anything to say." Solange thought that his sudden line of questioning may be a stealthy trap.
The agent turned his neck side to side as if to loosen up. "Don't worry; I'm not trying to trap you."
Solange believed he had read her mind.
"I know this goes against the rules talking to you like this, but you don't strike me as a cold-blooded killer. You look like you can't harm a fly and certainly not tough enough to take down someone like Ferdinand."
Solange was silent.
"I hope you have a good lawyer lined up."
"I do." She felt the need right then to reply. The gratitude she felt for her brother in that moment surpassed any form of appreciation she had ever given to another human being. The fact that he was standing by her through all of this caused her to get a bit choked up.
"I'm sorry." The agent noticed her eyes welling up. "Did I say something that offended you?"
Solange shook her head. "No."
A minute later, she asked to use the restroom and the agent escorted her there and waited outside the door.
Inside the lavatory, Solange stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still teary and her face looked slightly pale — the worries of life telling all over it and leaving nothing much to the imagination.
Relieved of her handcuffs to do her "business", she leaned over the faucet and washed her face. Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Coming!" she said, drying her face with some hand towels. She opened the door, was handcuffed again and led back to her seat.
The two of them settled back down in silence for a good part of the flight. Then, out of the blue, Solange asked, "What's your name?"
The man was surprised by the question,
but quickly remembered that he was the one that started the communication in the first place. "Scott," he answered rather uncomfortably. "Don’t say it out loud though. We wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression of you and me."
"I understand. I won't," Solange replied.
"Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. Just curious, I guess."
The pilot announced that the plane would be landing in a matter of a few minutes.
Agent Scott straightened up in his seat and put on his deathly serious look again. Glancing his way, Solange could tell that it meant this is where the road of friendly communication ended. The agent had to draw the line there and then.
After touch-down, a mixture of emotions flooded Solange like a tsunami. As she was being escorted out of the plane and over to the waiting vehicle, her surroundings reminded her of the day Victor dropped her off at the airport to board a flight to Miami — the same day she had killed Ferdinand. She recalled the silver necklace Victor had fastened around her neck — the very necklace that had been bagged by an officer after her arrest in Raleigh. She wanted to touch the area of her chest where the pendant often rested; she wanted to feel Victor's warmth and unconditional love again.
Seated inside the vehicle between Agent Scott and his similarly suited colleague, Solange knew she would be taken to a place that would become her new home - a place void of love and warmth, and all the good things she had in her friendship with Victor, and in the relationships she had cultivated in America.
Unsurprisingly, Scott had not uttered a single word to her outside of the plane. Although in familiar territory, Solange grudgingly accepted the disheartening reality that she was now alone. She would have to face the one eyewitness who swore that he had seen the whole thing; that he had been watching behind thickets as she buried Ferdinand's body in the backyard of her cottage.
8
Not There!
"May I take your order, ma'am?" The waitress addressed a lady dressed in smart casual office attire.
The woman requested a tossed salad and some punch.
It was a few minutes past noon and the downtown restaurant was busy as usual. Most of the tables were already occupied and soft music escaped hidden speakers.
A young man with a black baseball cap sat down at a table next to the professional woman and the same waitress headed over to take his order as well.
"I'm sorry? What did you say?" The waitress asked him, bewildered by what she thought she had heard him say. The look in the man's eyes was one she could never forget; the smirk across his face ignited her innermost dread like nothing before it.
"I'd like a choke out," the man repeated slowly, putting more emphasis this time on the choke out part.
Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant started gasping for air. Some were bringing up food they had just swallowed while others were coughing loudly trying to emit something that was not there. The waitress was one of them. She dropped her order book to the floor and placed both hands under her neck as if to somehow clear her windpipe. The professional woman nearby was no exception. She had not even taken a sip of water from the glass recently brought to her, yet, something was obstructing her lungs. She struggled to breathe like the scores of patrons around her.
The young man in the baseball cap watched quietly as one by one each head hit the table — hard. The smirk never left his face, but got even wider as the waitress standing next to him dropped to the floor and other workers followed. Soon, the gasping and choking sounds stopped completely and all that remained was the soothing soft music which escaped hidden speakers.
After being satisfied that all souls had left their shells, the man calmly got up, tucked the newspaper he had found on the table, under his arm and whistled his way right out of the restaurant onto the busy sidewalk.
* * *
Sonia was in the cafeteria when Clara Eaves rushed up to her.
"Have you heard the news, dear?" Clara looked worried.
"What news?" Sonia was slowly chewing the bite of her sandwich she had just taken.
Clara paused for a moment.
"What is it, Mrs. Eaves?" Sonia probed.
"Your old work place," Clara started slowly, "everyone…"
Sonia's eyes popped open. She dreaded the words that were to follow.
"I'm sorry, Sonia. Something terrible has happened to the people there. It seems like there were no survivors."
Sonia sprung up from her chair. "Please… tell… I've gotta go down there!" She took off toward the stairwell, not bothering to use the elevator.
"I'll let Mister Matheson know you had to leave, dear! Don't you worry!" Clara called behind her. She felt just awful about the whole matter, especially the fact that Sonia had a good history with Fung's.
Sonia met a chaotic scene in front of Fung's Restaurant when she arrived. She had practically run the whole distance. Yellow tape sectioned off the vicinity, including a portion of the sidewalk. Police officers and EMT workers were everywhere; no one could get close enough to see what was going on inside of the restaurant. Onlookers gaped and gasped at the mind-boggling tragedy that befell the people inside the place where most of them had once or frequently patronized. Sonia was in complete despair; her heart racing as she wondered if any of her former co-workers whom she also considered her friends had survived.
* * *
"I feel really bad about what happened to Sonia's former boss and co-workers today," Trent said, lying in bed next to Tina.
"I can only imagine how she's struggling to process it all," Tina replied, "even the thought that had she still been working there, she may have been one of the victims."
"Grim thought. She was so distraught, I gave her the rest of the day off. Tomorrow too."
"That's very considerate and sweet of you." Tina inched closer; her arm stretched across Trent's hairy chest.
He planted a kiss on her head. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"I can't ask?" Trent returned casually.
"Sure, you can, but…" She paused for a moment. "You've been talking to Amina; haven't you?"
Trent was silent.
"I see." Tina sat up.
"Okay. I admit, we spoke," Trent said with a hand tucked behind his head. "She was a little worried about you today. Said you were acting a bit strange. She told me about the bathroom incident. What in the world happened?"
"Nothing happened," Tina replied softly. "I just thought I saw something; that's all, and I blew everything out of proportion."
"You thought you saw what?"
"I'm sure Amina already told you."
"You thought you saw beetles?"
Tina sighed. "Look, we've had to deal with a lot lately and sometimes the mind can play tricks on us because of it. You know that."
Trent sat up as well and looked into Tina's eyes. "Tina, if there's anything you want to tell me, please just say it. You know I'll never doubt you again. We're past that, remember?"
"I know, honey, but there's absolutely nothing to tell."
"Cross your heart?" Trent asked, taking Tina's right hand and resting it over her heart. "I won't say the second part and won't let you say it either."
She leaned in and kissed him. They fell asleep in each other's arms.
Two hours later: 1:05am
Trent and Tina were awakened by a sinister laugh that invaded the master bedroom. They quickly sat up in bed.
"Did you hear that?" Tina whispered.
Trent nodded.
They sat still for a few moments more, waiting to hear it again. Trent reached over and switched on the lamp. The boisterous laughter sounded like it had originated from outside of the door. The baby monitor on the nightstand next to Tina was quiet, but a light blinked near the bottom which compelled her to check the nursery.
Without uttering a word, they got up and headed out of the bedroom. When they reached the hallway, they heard the laughter again combined with little chuckles they were certain were Foster'
s.
Tina switched on the row of decorative hallway lights, all of which flickered immediately while Trent turned the handle of the nursery door and slowly pushed it open. The room had been dimly lit as a result of the light seeping in from the hallway. Little Foster was sitting up in the crib, chuckling and looking straight ahead. As his parents moved in further, they both noticed an unusual mist in front of the crib where Foster was facing. Then seconds after their entrance, the mist transformed to a large blob, jet black in nature — similar to what Tina had spotted near the child's crib before. Tina rushed past Trent toward the baby and as she did, the blob dissipated into thin air.
She lifted Little Foster out of his bed and held him closely. "I told you he should be sleeping in our room at night!" she said to Trent.
"They can't do anything to him Tina. They can't take him." Trent thought she needed the reminder.
"But they can interact with him. They can have him float up to the ceiling again! I was stupid to let you convince me to leave him in here!"
"Tina, if we live like this, allowing them to have us wrapped up in fear, we wouldn't have a life. What are you going to do? Be with him twenty-four seven even when he gets older? Are you going to be foot and heel with him for the rest of his life? We have to continue to live normal lives and show them they will not disrupt our family or our home. If you keep such a tight grip, honey, they may not have our baby, but they'll still be winning. They would always have the upper hand."
"He sleeps in our room," Tina replied sharply before leaving the nursery.
Trent shook his head and slowly followed them back to the bedroom.
9
A Shot of Air
Twelve Days Later…
Trent pushed Little Foster in his stroller through the park as Tina walked next to them holding the baby bag. It was a Saturday morning and although the weather was nice and sunny, the atmosphere around town was, for the most part, tense.
In light of the latest tragedy which involved the strange demise of employees and patrons of the popular downtown restaurant, the city of Raleigh was set in "military mode". Police presence was thick — armed forces from neighboring districts were deployed to guard busy public areas, government buildings and institutions. Private companies tightened security around their businesses and Governor Chris Bradford publicly announced that Raleigh resembled a "war zone" as unsolved murders had increased exponentially.
Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series Page 36