Where the hell is Rachael?
It was not like his wife to allow for a dormant coffeepot. He spotted her purse on the counter where it usually sat.
She must be here.
He leaned over the sink to scan the property beyond the window. The Lexus was parked at the base of the porch steps where he last remembered seeing it; as was his bike. He would have given anything to straddle the Indian Chief and go.
You and I have a date as soon as I can get this shit off of me.
While his ability to get around was dramatically improved, the cumbersome device would not allow for a motorcycle getaway. He admired the bike for a time, lost in thought and wondering how he would convince Rachael to leave Kings Hollow.
He removed his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and realized he had left his Zippo upstairs. He moved to the junk drawer in search of a replacement and in the process nearly impaled himself on a pair of wire cutters hidden beneath some menus.
P’tain!
Fucking shit.
He sucked at a small drop of blood at the side of his finger and decided to give up and use a stove burner instead. He tilted his head and bent before the flame. As he inhaled, a flash of movement, just beyond the bay window, caught his eye. The golden retriever flew past the house, darting across the lawn toward the barn.
You…
Julien made his way to the glass for a better look. As he did, his eyes fell upon Sarah inside the coop, but she moved quickly and disappeared out of view in an instant. He looked back around for the dog which he found relentlessly sniffing and pawing at something beside the pond.
What the hell is that?
The dog bounded around a white, motionless object, wildly hopping and bowing in an overzealous dance of play.
Mon Dieu…
If you killed one of those ducks…so help you dog.
Almost positive of what he was seeing, Julien shook his head sadly. Julien watched intently as the dog pushed at the rigid bird. A piercing noise blared overhead and he nearly fell over on his crutches. He rushed to open the oven and remove the cooked hen hoping stop the wailing smoke detector. He tossed the pan on top of the burners, splattering grease on the stovetop then hurriedly looking around for something to stand on and reach the ear-splitting alarm. He realized this would be impossible while wearing the device. Instead, he whacked the smoke detector repeatedly with a crutch until the culprit fell open and he could free the battery with a crutch tip. A plastic catch broke and fell to his shoulder, allowing the battery to dangle like a pendulum from the equipment. The house fell silent. He turned away to catch his breath and his eyes caught view of the dog still tormenting the dead duck.
What if it isn’t dead…only injured?
He left the kitchen heading out after the dog. The awkwardness of the device kept his pace slow and exhausting, frustrating him along the way. The use of crutches turned forty feet into what felt like forty miles. Halfway to the dog, he was out of breath and needing a break. He paused before starting up again, now yelling for the dog to leave the bird alone. The wayward retriever turned to face him then broke into a run bolting in his direction. Julien stopped to brace himself for the playful attack, but instead, it came skidding to a halt a few feet away. It bounced in circles around him, seemingly wary of the crutches.
“Good boy…girl? What are you?” He moved forward again. “Crazy…that is what you are.” The dog travelled patiently alongside him, seeming to hang on his every word.
“You better not have hurt the birds, you crazy thing,” he said.
They were about ten feet from the object when Julien stopped. He couldn’t trust his eyes. In shock, he picked up speed then tossed the crutches to the side, taking the last few rushed steps unassisted. He dropped down on one knee, stunned, kneeling beside baby Jessica. She was lifeless, wrapped in a white blanket and lying face down in the moist dirt surrounding the pond. Struggling to maintain balance, his confined leg rigid and jutting to his side, he unbundled the baby, but she was cold and firm in his hands. He leaned close to attempt CPR, but stopped before his lips met her tiny face; she was too far gone and any attempt at resuscitation would be pointless. Julien let go of his daughter. He fell over onto his side and cried out across the acreage.
“RACHAEL!” His bellowing voice reverberated off the mountains. Birds fluttered out from trees in the distance.
The dog yipped and darted off fearfully. Julien looked around, panting and frantic, but Rachael never appeared. He glanced toward the barn, but there was no sign of Sarah either. He looked back to baby Jessica, his body quivering, he reached his breaking point at last and crumbled under the weight of the tragedy. Sobbing, he thought again how Rachael would never allow the baby to be hurt. This was Sarah’s doing.
Julien gave out a primal scream, “SARAH!” His voice ricocheted off the hills again.
A hawk circled above, its shrill vocalization breaking the echo. There was no movement in or around the barn. Julien attempted to pull himself together, only to be overcome with emotion once more. He scooped the baby into his arms and fought to get back up. He had taken just a few steps when he saw her above the roof. Swaying slowly back and forth and hanging just below the black pointed cap of the widow’s walk was Rachael supported by a rope around her neck.
Paralyzed by the scene, he looked down at the body of his daughter hugged tightly to his chest, then back to her mother. For a fleeting moment he felt the world spin and he thought he was falling, but the ground never came. His pulse pounded rapidly creating a swooshing sound in his ear; as quickly as it came on, his shock disappeared and he rushed for the porch. Grabbing the banister and moving quickly, the device caught a nail jutting from the wood railing and jerked the metal shifting his bones violently. He refused to let go of the baby as they went down, crashing to the floor. He rolled onto his back; reverberating pain paralyzed him in an instant. No sound could escape him as he lay there writhing. There was no way he would be able to make it up the spiral staircase with the bulky device on his leg. He regained his composure as quickly as he could. Sitting up, the bones in his thigh still aching from the jolt, he held on and pulled himself up having never let go of Jessica. He swung the screen door open; his ability to walk all the more hampered now, he took the baby to the dining room table where he laid her down on her back. He choked up, but his determination propelled him and he went to the kitchen. The dog came barreling past him, sniffing and leaping up at the grease-splattered stovetop. Julien opened the junk drawer and located the wire cutters. Sweat drizzled into his eyes; he wiped his face with the back of his hand attempting to clear his vision.
She’s gone.
Rachael’s gone.
The baby is gone.
They’re dead.
She made it look like Rachael killed the baby and then herself.
Julien slid the wire cutters between the frameworks encasing his thigh. The tool was almost too small for the girth of the screws. In frustration he whimpered, rushed, emotional and in a state of despair.
I’m coming Rachael.
I’m coming…
Staring down, crazed, sweat in his eyes, saliva dripping from his lips; he squeezed the handle of the tool. The screw refused to give, bowing metal painfully against bone. Using the strength of both trembling hands, the metal gave way and the first screw snapped, the remaining inches vibrating internally like a tuning fork. Julien dropped the wire cutter and grabbed onto the counter to hold himself up; he thought he was about to pass out but shook it off, resolute. He stared at the ceiling and pleaded with God as he fought off nausea. He composed himself then picked the tool back up. He repeated the process again. One by one, the screws broke away. His hands grew weaker with each attempt and by the time he snapped through the last screw his palms were bloody and blistered. Large metal pins, sharp and of various lengths, were jutting from his leg in all directions. He tried to rush for the stairs, but the leg had lost some stability without its framework. He held on to anything he cou
ld and kept moving, yelling at the dog to get out of his way. His gut told him that he had been lying in that bed for days, maybe even weeks, while his wife’s body hung only several feet above him in the widow’s walk. He held tight to the banister climbing to the second floor. In the hallway he slid along the wall, exhausted but refusing to give up until he finally reached the wrought iron staircase. The narrow width made it easy for him to hold on and lift himself step by step. He paused halfway to the top and looked up at his wife’s legs swaying above him. His body threatened to give out upon the sight of her.
No!
I can fix this.
He forged on eventually reaching the top. He paused to look at her. His lungs drew in a long gasp of air as his heart sank. Rachael’s face was blue, bloated, and her eyes wide and bulging. His foot slipped in a puddle of fluid accumulating on the floor beneath her. He grabbed onto the sill to steady himself.
Through tear-blurred vision, his body trembling, he hugged his wife’s hips, struggling to raise her and remove the rope from her neck. His leg gave out, shifting him off balance and forcing him to hold onto Rachael. The rope pulled tighter with his added weight; a crackling sound emanated from her neck. Julien cringed at the noise and righted himself instantly. Holding her up again, tears streaming down his face, he worked the rope free and allowed her to fall into his arms. They folded to the floor together.
Julien held her. “Je suis désolé, Rachael. I’m so sorry,” he muttered through heavy sobs.
He blamed himself. Had he been more convincing or known what to do. Had she not been afraid to tell him she was pregnant. Had he decided to go home and properly escort Rachael to the opera that night. Had he never moved them away from the city. It was entirely his fault, his choices, and his demands.
Julien held Rachael’s lifeless body to him for a long while. Eventually, there were no emotions left. He stared straight ahead; his body in shock, his mind reeling.
I could leave.
Go for help.
Help for what?
Go to whom?
Sarah…where is she?
With the utmost of care, Julien gently situated Rachael closer to the opening of the staircase. He had to find the girl and convince her to wish his wife and daughter back to life, or he would take his own life and join them leaving Sarah with nothing.
She’ll just bring you back.
He held on and descended several steps then turned back to weave an arm around Rachael, slowly taking her down the staircase with him. He was numb, pain no longer registered.
He mumbled to himself in French, rambling as he worked to get his wife to the first floor. He hadn’t made it very far when his leg gave out and sent them backwards. He caught one rung of the banister with three fingertips, holding on for dear life and clutching Rachael now on top of him. He tried to pull them back up, but the weight was too much and one by one he felt his fingers slip and they tumbled to the ground. He laid there, his cheek pressed to the cold wood, trying to regain his wits. He turned over to look at Rachael’s body lying beside him; her vacant eyes aimed blindly toward him. An unexpected sigh escaped him, a shell-shocked haze in his eyes, he placed his hands beneath his chest and pushed himself up; Sarah’s shoes came into view just an inch from his face. He slowly raised his eyes, craning his neck to look up at the girl.
Sarah glared at him beneath a creased brow. The sound of plodding heavy footsteps resonated behind him on the stair case. Julien knew what was coming and dropped back down. He covered his head and prepared for the blow.
Jérome.
Sarah dashed into the kitchen peeking out around the doorjamb as Jérome grabbed Julien from behind. He righted his son’s body, standing him up so Julien’s back was to his father. With a hard shove of his scuffed boot, Jérome slid Rachael out of the way so he could step around and face his son.
Julien watched his wife’s body skid along the floor and his fear morphed into fury. He waited. The dog ran out of the kitchen past Sarah and behind Jérome. It leapt onto the couch, the cooked chicken in its mouth. Jérome laughed it off then turned back to his son.
Julien brought his hands up slowly and shifted his weight into a wounded boxing stance. His father’s laughter directed now onto him. Julien’s mind came alive with vivid memories of his childhood. His father’s years of taunting and constant blame for his mother’s death; the permanent scars left by his abuse. He shook his head attempting to chase the memories from his mind. Jérome looked at Rachael’s body. Julien abruptly threw a punch; Jérome bobbed, shifting his upper body just out of reach. He put up his own fists and threw a false jab purposely stopping short of Julien’s chin, but Julien tried to weave and nearly lost his balance. He caught himself and threw another punch instantly, this one landing Jérome’s jaw. Jérome smiled, showing his few remaining discolored teeth; he reached out, gripped Julien by the bicep and threw him to the side, over Rachael, and sliding across the floor. Julien slammed into the sofa which shifted; the dog yipped then scurried away with its prize meal still in his teeth. It dropped back down beside the wall, hovering over the chicken and snarling protectively as Julien hurried to stand. He felt the ground shake as Jérome stomped toward him.
Sarah, with a sudden change of heart, squealed and ran past Jérome crouching down beside Julien protectively. She held up a hand stopping Jérome in his tracks. Julien lay panting, his back to her chest. He looked first at Sarah, her arms wrapped tightly around him, shielding him. He then looked back to Jérome who was already gone.
Sarah hummed softly, rocking and petting him. The dog watched them warily, its tail thumped methodically against the wood floor. Sarah hugged him tighter then placed her lips to his cheek. Repulsed, he pulled away from her and sat forward. He looked at Rachael on the floor across the room, then the baby, her foot visible just over the table’s edge. Sarah inched closer to him, shimmying up to his side persistently. Julien looked into the girl’s eyes, his face slack and void of expression. Sarah smiled and ran a finger along his jaw, then his lips. He was staring at her, but not seeing her at all. In shock, the only thought on his mind was of his and Rachael’s ninth anniversary and how it all could have been so different. Without conscious thought, he watched his own hand come up to cup one side of Sarah’s face in false affection she welcomed openly. Without warning he shoved her face sideways, slamming her skull into the ground with one ruthless crack. He felt nothing, completely void of emotion.
The dog jumped up to run, but changed its mind and let out one startled bark before lowering itself back down cautiously. It bit into the chicken as it released a low growl, pinning the bird between its paws and watching Julien intently.
Sarah did not move, her eyes fixed on him she gasped. Blood drained from one nostrils as her her eyes went dull. Julien shook her; she was dead. Sarah’s body fell over onto her back, blood trickling from her ear, a small section of her temple concaved above her eye.
Julien looked at the dog still watching. He crawled halfway over Sarah, moving slowly toward the animal. The dog’s snarl revved with each movement Julien made; the sound muffled only by the meat still gripped in its mouth. Julien reached catiously for the bird, ready to lurch forward if needed. He stared into the dog’s eyes keeping its gaze away from his hand. When the dog seemed intent on Julien’s face, he took his chances and dove for it, digging his fingers into the breast of the bird.
Our ninth anniversary with memory of this nightmare.
The dog snapped and gnashed down, one canine in the bird, the other in Julien’s finger. They both jerked away from one another, tearing the meat in two.
Tink!
The bone snapped and the dog ran out through the front door with the remnant of its prize. Julien crumpled, his body resting across Sarah’s. He held the bone grasped tightly in his palm as his body gave out and he lost consciousness.
* * * *
Julien waited impatiently for his turn in the revolving door. He exited the office building on Madison Avenue, spilling out amongs
t the masses into the falling snow. He removed a pack of cigarettes from his coat, taking the time to tuck his scarf back in before lighting one. Igniting his Zippo he took a satisfying drag and leaned back against one of the leafless saplings lining the street. Looking up, he eyed the enormous glass office building. He began to hum as he waited for Matt. He didn’t think much of it until he stopped humming to take a drag; the tune was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. A young girl walked by, her red hair falling forward, as her eyes met his, and she looked away coyly. He watched her flirt with him as he exhaled his smoke. Out of nowhere, a soft, breathy whisper echoed in his mind.
Sarah.
The moment he heard the name he felt a wave of dizziness come over him. He closed his eyes and saw a fleeting glimpse of a white Victorian home. He shook his head, opening his eyes to pedestrians eyeing him suspiciously as they moved by. From the opposite direction, a man knocked into his shoulder, and he watched him pass unapologetically. Julien’s first thought was to grab the guy and confront him, but he was huge and built like a tank.
Jérome.
Julien turned away and took another drag from his smoke. He slowly looked up as, in a series of rapid flashes, his memory flooded back to him.
Sarah…Jérome…the coop…Rachael…
He tossed his cigarette to the ground and turned to the street. He stepped out into traffic and forced the first taxi he saw to a screeching halt. The driver hung out of the window about to eject a litany of expletives, but Julien grabbed the rear door handle and entered the cab. Matt stepped up beside the open door.
“What are you doing? I thought we were…”
Julien instructed the driver to go then turned back to Matt. “I’ll call you later.” he said quickly as the cab began to roll. He slammed the door shut, leaving his friend to stand abandoned and baffled on Madison Avenue.
* * * *
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