Prey of Desire

by J. C. Gatlin

  A little.

  Maybe...

  * * * * * * *

  Michael woke in the hospital and the first thing he noticed was his blurry vision. Equipment with flashing lights beeped constantly beside him. Bright colors were on his left, cards and flowers from his classmates. The right side of the room was black, until he slightly moved his head and saw more colors and a window. A blurry woman was standing in the corner.

  “You’re awake.” It was his mother, and she stepped toward the bed. “Is there anything you need?”

  A ragged grunt gurgled in his throat. Michael couldn’t speak, he felt so weak. He turned his head so that he could see his mother better, and realized there was something over his right eye. He couldn’t see out of it.

  A nurse came into the room and approached his bed on the left side.

  “You’re awake,” she said, adjusting the IV. She checked the monitor.

  He listened to the beep, and it seemed to grow louder, pulsing to the beat of the throbbing in his head. She said something to his mother, but he couldn’t understand what the nurse was saying; the beeping was too loud. It was the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness.

  When he woke again, his hospital room was dark. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept. Maybe it had been a few hours. Maybe it had been a few days. Regardless, he had slept. His dreams had been wicked though.

  He struggled to sit up. The tubes hooked to his arms made that next to impossible. Looking around the room, he felt like his vision had cleared-up a little. The right side of his face throbbed, and despite the bandage, he could see little flashes of light that confused his left eye. It made it seem like fireworks were sparkling around him.

  Before his eye could adjust, the door opened and light from the hallway flooded the room. Michael shut his eye. When he opened it again, he saw that the nurse had entered and turned on a small lamp over the sink and lavatory. She approached the bed.

  “Welcome back,” she said, smiling. Behind her, the door opened again and two men entered the room. The nurse turned to them. “He just woke. Give him some time.”

  “We may not have time,” the officer said.

  “Well, make it quick,” she said. She left the room and the taller officer approached the bed.

  “How are you feeling Michael?”

  Michael opened his mouth, struggling to speak. He wanted to say, Not good. It came out more as Nuttt Uuggghhh.

  “Don’t try to speak,” the officer said. “I just have a few questions and I want you to nod, yes or no. Do you understand?”

  Michael weakly nodded his head.

  “Good,” the officer said. “Do you know where you are?”

  Again, Michael nodded.

  “You’re at Stillwater General,” the Officer continued. “You were attacked. Did you see who attacked you?”

  Michael shut his eye a moment, then nodded his head.

  “Good. Did you know the attacker?”

  Michael opened his left eye again, then shook his head. He barely even remembered what happened.

  “Okay,” the officer said slowly. He pulled a photograph from his trench coat and held it up. “Does this man look familiar? Is this who attacked you?”

  Michael focused on the photo, staring at the bearded face looking back at him. It was the face of Addison Gaynor.

  18

  Impending Darkness

  Tuesday, January 25, 2000

  10:43 AM

  Morning brought more rain and a loud pounding at the door woke Kim from her stupor. Zeus barked madly as she made her way downstairs to the living room.

  “Who is it?” she asked pressing her ear to the door.

  “Kimberly,” came the voice from outside. “It’s me, Mallory. Let me in!”

  “Go away, Mal! I don’t feel well.”

  Mallory pounded on the door, sending Zeus into another spasm of barks and yelps. “You open this door right now Kimberly Bradford! You've been locked in there for days,” she yelled from outside.

  “This is your last chance!”

  Kim didn’t answer, walking away from the door and back to the staircase.

  “I’m warning you, Kim! I’ve got the landlord with me out here.” Mallory's voice carried inside. Zeus barked and growled, leaping at the doorknob. Kim sulked back upstairs and climbed into bed. A moment later, a key clicked as it inserted into the lock and the landlord forced the door open.

  Zeus barked and lunged at him as he stood in the doorway. Mallory leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the dog. He barked wildly and she held the Doberman tight. The landlord stepped back onto the porch, shutting the door, allowing Mallory to enter the townhome alone.

  “Kim,” she yelled, glancing up the staircase. “I know you’re here!” Mallory stormed up the stairs and entered the bedroom loft. Kim lay face down on the bed, her back turned.

  Mallory marched over to the bed, grabbed hold of Kim by the shoulders and swung her around.

  “Listen to me, Kimberly. Enough is enough. You’ve got to snap out of this right now.” She shook Kim and raised her up so that they were both sitting on the bed. Mallory placed a hand on the back of Kim’s head and looked her eye to eye. “What do you always tell me? Life doesn’t get easier…”

  Kim didn’t respond. Mallory tightened her grip around the back of Kim’s head and repeated, “Life doesn’t get easier…”

  “We just get tougher,” Kim said faintly, her voice hoarse. Then clarity filled her eyes and she leaned toward Mallory. She swallowed hard and bit back tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He’s just gone.”

  Mallory wrapped her arms around her, caressing her hair. “I know,” she said softly.

  “I’m not strong. Not strong enough for this,” Kim struggled to talk. She choked, then continued. “I just don’t know how to take all of this. I feel like every thing is out of control.”

  “But it’s not. You will get through this.” Mallory took Kim’s face in her hands and looked deep into her eyes. “I promise.”

  Kim looked away. “You don’t understand.” She gulped a deep breath, hot tears now slipping down her cheeks. Something flickered far back in her eyes and she found her voice again. “He's calling me.”

  “Who's calling you?” Mallory asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I don’t know who he is or what he wants. At first I thought it was Ross but now I just don’t know.” She yielded to the compulsive sobs that shook her.

  Mallory embraced her tightly, holding her. “Whoever it is, we’ll make him stop,” she whispered, gently rocking her. “I promise we'll make him stop.”

  That afternoon, Mallory got Kim out of the house. They parked downtown, had eggs and coffee at the Fork & Spoon, then went to the salon. Kim sulked while the woman cut her hair. Mallory pressed on, and they got manicures and ate lunch. By the time they pulled up to the mall, Kim was feeling human again. Though she wouldn’t admit it.

  Still, that nagging pulse running across her temples, behind her eyes, wouldn’t go away. And Alec Whitman’s words rang through her head.

  “I’ve been thinking about Alec Whitman and the police. They all said that Addison has a history of stalking past girlfriends,” Kim said as they wandered through Macy’s Department Store. Kim held up a tan dress to her body and glanced at her reflection in the wall mirror. “I’m just saying, how well do you know him?”

  “I have Addison Gaynor wrapped around my little finger,” Mallory said, taking the tan dress from Kim’s hands and placing it back on the rack. She then handed Kim a velvety plum backless number. “I can assure you, we have nothing to worry about when it comes to Pudd'n’ Toes. He’s madly in love with me.”

  “But what do you know of his past?” She held the skimpy dress at arm’s length and then glanced at the price tag. She handed it back to Mallory. “He’s divorced, right? What happened to his wife? Did he have kids? If so, where are they?”

  Mallory paid no attention, directing the sales clerk t
o bring out some matching shoes. “I don’t know where all this is even coming from.”

  “I’m just worried about what we don’t know. There’s a lot of crazy things going on around us right now and I think we need to ask some questions.”

  “Such as?” Mallory asked. A flash of annoyance crossed her face. Kim's response held a note of impatience.

  “Such as, who was this girl who filed a restraining order against your jealous, stalking boyfriend?”

  “Lighten up. That was a million years ago.”

  Kim continued. “Why is he lying about being out of town? Why is he spying on us?”

  “Because he's obsessed.” Mallory flashed her a wicked grin. “Like I said, he's madly in love with me.”

  “The police are watching our townhomes, Mal. They're going to catch Addison lurking outside in his BMW.”

  “Oh, Sweetie... my Pudd'n Toes is harmless.” Mallory laughed as a clerk brought out the shoes. She tried them on. Nodding her approval, she motioned for Kim to try on a pair. “And pick out a dress too. Anything you want. It’s my treat.”

  “Why? You got The Gunz’s platinum card or something?”

  “Don't ever bring up that name again.” Mallory stiffened as if Kim's question had just struck her. “Apparently he's dating Madonna now.”

  “The rock star? I thought she was seeing some British movie director.”

  “Either way, I can't compete.” Mallory shrugged it off. “That's why we don't have anything to worry about with Addison.”

  “Mal, I disagree.”

  “There's nothing to worry about.” Mallory said a little more forcefully than she probably intended. Smiling, she blatantly changed the subject. “Why don't you pick out something nice. I was the one hundred and seventh caller in KYGL 107’s Phrase That Pays and I won one thousand seven dollars!”

  Kim congratulated her then found a stunning white form-fitting dress, something that reminded her of Princess Di. She held it up, admiring the fabric. “This is beautiful. But Mal, I can’t let you spend the money you won on me.”

  “Oh, go try it on. You’d look stunning in that. Besides, you’re not wearing any of my clothes again.” Mallory adjusted her blouse as if it’d been stretched out. “We’re obviously not the same size.”

  Leaving the mall, Mallory took Kim to the nursing home to see her grandfather. He was having dinner in the cafeteria when they arrived. They sat down at his table and he looked up from his peas and carrots.

  “Do you know my daughter?” he asked Kim.

  “I do,” Kim said, smiling patiently. “I’m your granddaughter.”

  He looked back down at his peas. “I’ll have to introduce you sometime,” he said, holding his spoon. It trembled in his unsteady hand, but he paid no attention. He seemed wholly enthralled with Kim, as if it was the first time he'd ever seen her. “She’s about your age.”

  Kim looked at Mallory then back at her grandfather. She held out her hand and squeezed his arm. “I love you, Grampa,” she said.

  Late that evening, the girls returned to their townhome complex and entered Mallory's dark living room, their arms filled with packages.

  “I can't wait to try these on,” Mallory said, dropping two sacks and four boxes onto the couch. She slipped off her high heels, ran her hands through her thick red hair and shook her head.

  “Okay, but I've got to check on Zeus first,” Kim said. She was definitely feeling better, and chuckled. “I can't believe we were gone all day. He's probably waiting for me with his legs crossed.”

  The street lamps over the parking lot shined into the living room, deepening the shadows around them and Kim reached for the light switch. Nothing happened.

  “That's strange,” Kim said, noticing the black, boxy video cassette recorder sitting on top the television. Its light was out too. “Did you pay your light bill?”

  “I've got candles in my bedroom.” Mallory pointed upstairs as she stood in the doorway. “You light some candles and then go walk Zeus. I'll wake up the landlord. Maybe it's just a fuse or something.”

  Mallory left, shutting the door behind her.

  Alone, Kim fumbled through the dark to the spiral staircase and made her way upstairs to the bedroom loft. The moon shone brightly through the skylight, but she still had to maneuver carefully to allow her eyes to adjust.

  Finding the night stand, her hands brushed a waxy candle stick. Now where were the matches? She opened the drawer, happening to glance out the window. She could see Mallory walking along the parking lot curb toward the landlord’s residence.

  She looked back. Flipping through the items in the drawer, Kim found a match book and held it up.

  She struck a match. Shadows shrunk in the room with the yellow flame and she lit the candle. She shook out the match. That's when she noticed it from the corner of her eye.

  Movement. Coming from the closet.

  She wasn't alone.

  Kim swung around, and screamed. A man was standing there. His eyes reflected the flickering candle light, and he stepped forward. Moonlight hit his face.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried. “Addison...”

  19

  By the Dim

  Grave Light

  Moonlight lit Addison’s face and his grin shined thin and psychotic. His hands gripped a wooden baseball bat. Three deep grooves had been cut out where Gunz Gonzales had autographed it. Looking down at it, then back up at Kim, he shook his head as if struggling to knock away pesky voices humming in his brain.

  “Who does this belong to?” he demanded.

  Kim stepped backwards, shaking. She straightened her back. Her bottom lip trembled. “Addison.”

  “I asked you a question.” He was yelling now. He lifted up the bat, gripping it with two hands, knuckles white. “Who does this belong to?”

  “I think you need to calm down.” Kim held out her hand, palm up. “You’re upset. You’re emotional. You need to take a breath and…”

  “Tell me,” he screamed at her, then lowered his arm. His voice tapered off as if he was holding back an uncontrollable rage. “Please.”

  Kim didn’t know what to say. Stepping back away from him, she kept her arm extended, her hand up. His mood turning again, he grabbed her and threw her to the bed. Kim rolled off it and fell to the floor. The candle fell from her other hand and the lamp, jewelry and lotions on the nightstand tumbled to the floor with her.

  “Where is he?” Addison screamed. He raised the bat again. “Is she with him?”

  On the floor, Kim noticed the box of paint guns lying under the bed. She reached for them and dumped the fake artillery across the floor. She found the pink Tippmann X7 Phenum Electro-pneumatic. It was the paint gun Mallory had shown her earlier. She reached for it.

  “I’m not a fool,” he continued ranting. “You may think I don’t know what’s going on, but I do.”

  Kim stood up, clutching the pink rifle in her hands. Addison paused, staring at it.

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “I think you need to leave.” She steadied her arms, holding the gun. She aimed it at his head. Addison stepped back, sighed, and lowered the baseball bat.

  “Kimberly, my intention is not to scare you,” he said slowly, calmly. Then anger rose in his voice again. “But I get so god damned angry when YOU LITTLE SLUTS LIE TO ME!”

  He swung the bat in her direction, hitting the vanity and smashing the mirror. Kim screamed and ducked as glass shattered. She ran to the opposite side of the room, near the window, and stood in the corner, her back to the wall. She raised the rifle again. Addison turned.

  “I’m just trying to understand.” He stepped in her direction. “I need to know…”

  He took another step toward her. Kim thrust the rifle toward him.

  “Addison, don’t make me shoot you.” Her voice trembled.

  “I just need to know…” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Did Mallory ever love me?”

  He took another step.

  “I’m
warning you,” she said. Their eyes locked.

  “I need to know the truth” he said. “TELL ME!”

  He reached for her. She pulled the trigger. The gun popped and a torrent of red paint struck his face, throwing him back. He yelled and stumbled, flailing his arms. Kim watched him for a second, knowing she needed to move. To run.

  He shook his head and wiped paint from his eyes. Splattered red branches marred his forehead and cheeks and dribbled out the corner of his mouth and down his chin. But his eyes were white angry balls of glass beneath a mask of war paint.

  Kim threw down the gun and ran past him to the spiral staircase. He turned watching her and then wiped the paint from his wrinkled cheek with the back of his hand. She raced down stairs. Carrying the baseball bat, Addison followed

  “Don’t run from me, Kimberly,” he screamed, grabbing her arm at the front door. He swung her around. Facing her, he brought his face close to hers. “Is Mallory with him right now?”

  Kim’s back pressed against the door. Her left hand slipped behind her, her fingers wrapping around the door knob.

  He squeezed her right arm. She struggled against him. His grip tightened.

  “Let go of me.” Panic rippled in her voice. His breath was hot on her cheek. She shut her eyes, scrunching her face. “You're hurting me.”

  * * * * * * *

  Mallory knocked on the landlord's door. There was no answer. Knocking again, she felt the door give and peered inside.

  “Hello?” she called out. Fishing for the tiny flashlight on her keys, she stepped into the dark townhome. She followed the narrow beam around the living room.

  There was something cold about the whole place. The couch had a blanket and pillow piled together at one end. Stacks of paper were thrown on the floor in front of it. The cushions were so covered with newspaper clippings and shredded paper it was impossible to see the upholstery. At the opposite end of the room, she could see into the kitchen. The countertops looked cluttered. Dishes and food were scattered haphazardly in the sink. The refrigerator trays lay on the floor.