Missing Soul
Dominika Waclawiak
Contents
1. The Meeting
2. The Collapse
3. Father Johan Luken
4. Old Friends
5. The Drawing
6. A Mother's Dilemma
7. Diagnosis
8. Nightmares
9. The Session
10. Partners
11. Hypnosis
12. The Grave
13. The Explanation
14. Interrogation
15. The Arrest
Caine & Murphy #1 Preview
Chapter 1 - Catalyst
Chapter 2 - Sorrow
Letter from Dominika
About the Author
1
The Meeting
Sara Caine stood outside her duplex on Monmouth Ave and wondered what it must feel like to be a USC student heading off to class. Although she told everyone that asked that she was taking a year off, she barely managed to graduate high school and knew full well that she wouldn't be heading off to college.
She had been lucky enough to land a production assistant gig on an independent feature film that was shooting in Venice Beach and hoped that the job would lead to some sort of career. Being born and raised in Los Angeles, she had the advantage of knowing people in the industry that could help her get jobs. Her best friend Gina's father was an independent producer and with one phone call had gotten her a job as a production assistant on his latest feature film. Nepotism was alive and well in Hollywood, and she had no problem taking advantage of it.
She opened the door to her car, affectionately called Tank, a 1985 Volvo station wagon that she'd manage to buy with cash last year, and slid in. Knowing she'd hit massive traffic on the 10, she decided on Adams Boulevard to make it to Venice Beach at this hour. Once she hit Fairfax, she could hop onto Washington and take that all the way down.
She took a left onto Adams and pushed her Pixies tape into the ancient cassette deck. She turned the sound up and when the first song, Caribou, roared through her speakers, she sped as fast as her car could go.
Gina had given her the film script to read the night before, but she hadn't gotten to it. She wasn't even sure what department they were going to stick her in, but it didn't matter much to her. Just as long as she got paid.
* * *
After crawling through rush hour traffic, Sara got to the location with mere minutes to spare. She checked in with the Unit Production Manager sitting at a makeshift table in front of a trailer.
"Name please?" the woman asked her without looking up.
"Sara Caine."
The UPM flipped through some papers. "I've assigned you to the Art Department." A tattooed girl standing behind her snickered.
"What?" Sara said as she turned to the girl with a frown.
"You've never worked Art Department have you? It's the worst job on set," the girl said. Sara turned back to the UPM.
"Are there any other positions available in a different department?" The UPM arched her eyebrow at Sara. The woman was not amused.
"Your coordinator," she said and pointed to a woman at the table next to hers. "Her name's Amy. I'd beat it over there if you still want the job," was all she said before turning back to her stack of paperwork.
"Thank you," Sara said and walked over to Amy, a laptop in front of her.
"Hi, I'm Sara, your new PA," Sara said. Amy pointed to several people loitering next to a beat-up pickup truck.
"Hi Sara. Welcome," she said. "You'll be on set prep with them. They've been waiting for you. Didn't anyone tell you the call time for the Art Department was an hour ago?" Amy said finally looking up from her spreadsheets.
"No one told me that I'd be in Art. I was just told I was a PA and to show up at nine in the morning," Sara explained and tried her best not to blush. Amy threw the UPM a dirty look.
"This show is so disorganized," she said under her breath. Sara nodded. "Join the others and tell them they can leave. Harry is in charge of all of you. He's the tall guy wearing the striped shirt," she added.
"Thanks," Sara said, not really sure what she was thanking her for. She walked over to the group and turned to the guy in the striped shirt.
"Sorry, I'm late. I just found out that I was Art. My name's Sara," she repeated.
"Hey Sara, I'm Harry. Welcome to the Art Department. This is Matt, Lisa, and Gerry," he said. "We're prepping a location for Set Decoration." Everyone groaned.
"What am I missing?" Sara asked.
"Prepping means cleaning," Matt explained.
"Not very glamorous, I know," Harry added and climbed into the driver's seat of the van. Sara knew she was in for a long day.
* * *
Sara stood on the dried out lawn of a small Venice bungalow right off Lincoln Boulevard. The place looked as if it had been unoccupied for months. Harry came up behind her.
"Living room for you, Sara."
"And we're just cleaning?"
"There's a lot of garbage in there. The scenics are coming at 5pm to start painting," Harry said.
"Does Art Department typically do clean up?"
"Yup," he said and crunched to the front door. When they got inside, the place was a bigger dump then she had first thought. Syringes lay everywhere, and the walls had burns and holes in them. Take out containers and beer bottles scattered throughout the place completed the picture. Harry handed out black trash bags.
"Do you have gloves for us?" Sara asked in a small voice. Harry laughed at her before turning away. Damn, she thought. The last thing Sara wanted to do was touch dirty syringes.
"This is a shit job," she grumbled under her breath as she whipped open the trash bag and started on the pile of left-over food containers.
* * *
Sara stood in the center of the living room and beamed with pride. She'd filled three large garbage bags before the place was finally empty. That hadn't been so bad after all.
"Where do you want these bags, Harry?" she called out behind her. Harry had taken the kitchen that was adjacent to the living room.
"Out in the back, in the alleyway," he yelled back. Sara grunted and heaved up one of the bags an inch off the ground. She'd overfilled them.
Improvising, she dragged it across the living room to the sliding glass doors, picked it up so it wouldn't catch on the metal sash and pulled it out to the dirt filled backyard. Happy to see the yard was tiny; she dragged the bag to the alleyway. She placed the garbage next to two existing bags and took a deep breath. With all her pride gone; she didn't know whether she could handle weeks of this.
"Hello there. Who are you?" a small voice said from behind her. She turned to see a small boy, no older than six, standing in the middle of the alley. Sara saw no sign of his mother.
"I'm Sara. What's your name?"
"Sam," he said in proud voice.
"Well, hello Sam. It's very nice to meet you," she said. What was such a young child doing wandering around alone? "Do you live here?"
He giggled at that. "No one lives in alleyways, silly."
"That's true," Sara said with a smile. "Can you point me to where you do live?" He obeyed and pointed at a house several yards down.
"Can I take you there? I'm sure your Mom must be worried that you aren't in your yard anymore," she said and took his hand.
"I come here a lot. Last week, I found a bike over there and Mommy let me keep it," he said.
"Wow, a bike is a special find. I'm sure your Mom at least likes to know where you are though?" Sara prodded. By the way Sam hid his eyes from her, she knew she'd hit on the truth. When they arrived at his backyard, the gate opened up and a young woman rushed out and nearly knocked both of them over.
She pulled him to his feet. "
Sam, how many times do I have to tell you not to wander away?" she scolded. "Thank you so much for bringing him back. Where was he this time?" She turned to Sara.
"Just over there," Sara said, pointing back towards the pile of black garbage bags. The woman shook her hand in gratitude, and her brown eyes widened. Her grasp tightened as she looked up at Sara.
"You have the gift," the woman said. The intensity in her eyes made Sara take several steps back.
"I don't understand what you mean," she said and tried to pull her hand away. The woman wouldn't let go.
"I can feel the energy coursing through you. You can help us. I know you can," the woman pleaded. Sara yanked her hand away, fear in her eyes.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said and backed further into the alleyway. The woman clutched Sam to her chest.
"You could help Sam. Don't you want to help him?" The woman begged. Sara fought the urge to make a break for it when she saw the tears in Sam's eyes.
"There's nothing wrong with Sam and I have no idea what kind of help I could give you. All boys his age wander away. He's just exploring," Sara said and hoped the small boy wouldn't start to cry in front of her. Was the woman on drugs or something? Should she call social services?
The boy looked well cared for. His clothes were clean, and new, and he showed overall health. She shook her head. Why was Venice so damn weird?
"I'm not talking about his wandering away. He has nightmares and says strange things. He must be haunted or even possessed. It's the only explanation I have. I had an Aunt who had your same gift. When I touched her hand, the energy was there. The same spark you have. You must have seen them by now," the woman said, searching her face for any sign of understanding.
Sara's face flushed a bright scarlet. This woman couldn't have just felt that by touching her. Not even Father Johan could do that, and he definitely had gifts, as he called them.
"I'm sorry. I have no idea of what you're talking about. I have to get back to work," Sara said and ran away from them. She took the corner into the film location's yard too fast and slammed into Harry carrying two massive, filled garbage bags. Sara threw her arms in front of her to break her fall and grabbed onto Harry. He fell back and sent both of them sprawling into the garbage bags.
"Shit, oh my God, are you OK? I'm so sorry," she sputtered as she got off him and held out a hand to help him up.
"Jesus, Sara. What the hell were you doing back there?" he said as he heaved himself up off the ground, ignoring her hand. Sara had no idea what to say and looked away from him.
"I'm really sorry. I'll be more careful next time."
"You better be. I doubt this production has workmen's comp. You need to be way more careful," he said and gestured at the fallen trash bags.
"I'm sorry," was all that Sara could say.
"Yeah, whatever. These were yours by the way. I was helping you out, but you can take them now," he said and dumped them at her feet. She took them by their tops and dragged them back the way she had come in, praying that the strange woman and her son were no longer in the alleyway.
Sara peaked out into the alley.
It was empty.
Sighing in relief, she heaved the bags onto the growing pile and rushed back into the yard, closing the gate behind her. Maybe she'd get that job delivering pizza after all. It couldn't be any worse than this.
The rest of Sara's day was spent cleaning up the rest of the location. When she was finally done, every muscle screamed at her as she got into her car. She turned on the engine, and her mind flashed back to Sam, standing in tears with his mother. If Sam was really possessed as the mother said, she really should call Father Luken. That was his purview. But, if she called him then she'd have to admit to herself that the curse would never go away. Father Johan helped her deal with the horrors she saw last year and she really thought that she had put it all behind her.
When she ignored them, they left her alone. She knew that if she revealed who she was to that woman, they also would come back.
Come after her again.
She wouldn't let that happen. Not after all she'd done to disappear from them.
2
The Collapse
Much to Sara Caine's relief, she didn't go back to the location again for the rest of the week. The girl who'd told her working in the Art Department was the worst job on set was not even close to exaggerating. Over the last four days, she'd had to clean out three of the most disgusting houses she'd ever encountered. Getting paid a hundred dollars a day barely covered her bills and didn't come close to compensating her for her work efforts. The least the production could do was give them gloves and face masks but apparently that was not standard protocol. With so many people coming to Los Angeles wanting to work in film, it was easy for the producers to exploit and treat their disposable workforce like shit. There were always others that were willing to do the work.
However, Sara made sure to keep a smile on her face and did what she was told to do. If she were honest with herself, the physical labor of the job kept her from thinking of Father Luken and the encounter in the alley. It also strengthened her resolve to keep herself invisible from the beings that wanted her attention. She wanted to be normal and like other eager PA's who talked incessantly of their dreams of making it in Hollywood. She even joined one of the aspirational conversations between two other assistants saying she might want to be a Production Designer someday.
She arrived at the former burger joint, now a picturesque 1950s diner that she helped set decorate yesterday. The Art Department had done an incredible job with it, and she was as proud of the work as the rest of team was. This was going to be the perfect job for her. Simple and easy with no shadows and confusing mixed signals.
Father Luken once told her that concrete goals were important to people like them. When the gifted person had a life outside the paranormal, the overwhelming questions of life after death became more manageable. Most nineteen year olds didn't give the slightest thought about those kinds of heavy questions.
The friends she did have focused on going out, getting laid, getting blitzed and having as many experiences as they could possibly collect. She wanted to be just like them. She would be just like them, she thought, and got out of the car with the bags of cutlery from the Sony Prop house in Marina Del Rey.
She smiled at Harry who winked at her in return. After that first day, Sara had worked hard to get on his good side. She had succeeded too well as the relationship shifted into a more flirtatious one. She didn't mind having a small fling and hoped he'd make a move soon. He was good looking enough and a stoner. Simple and uncomplicated.
"Did you get lost or something?" Harry quipped at her as she walked by him.
"Nice of you to be a gentleman and help a lady out with these heavy bags," she shot back at him.
"You're an art girl now. You don't need any help," he said, not moving. Sara rolled her eyes at him.
"At least get the door, would you?"
"Anything for you, my dear," he drawled sarcastically and took his damn time getting up to open it.
"Gee, thanks Harry." She smiled again before sauntering inside and changing her walk to show off her assets as best as she could for his benefit. The set decorator, Joan, smiled the moment she saw her.
"Thank God, Sara!" She took the bags from her. "No one here has the slightest idea of what they're doing. At least I have you," she whispered conspiratorially at her. Sara flushed in pleasure.
"Thank you, Joan."
"I hate to send you off again, but you really are the best," she said as she snapped her fingers and another PA materialized at her side.
"Set these place settings on all the booths," she snapped at him. He nodded and scampered away.
"Anyway, I got these three lamps for the Venice bungalow location for the shoot tonight. I can't leave here since this place is still such a mess, but you have a good eye and can place them in the living room. The blue and yellow one can go on either side
of the sofa, and then the green lampshade one goes next to the armchair. Do you think you could do that?"
Sara, still flush with the compliment, nodded. "Consider it done," she said.
"You're a doll. Get Harry to help you with those boxes though." She pointed at the three large boxes near the door. "They aren't easy to carry alone. Once you get to the location, you can take the lamps out individually. I just want to make sure they stay in the boxes during transport," Joan explained. Sara had heard the transport spiel several times before but let her go on anyway.
"Harry, I need your help," Sara said to him as he walked by, hands full with tablecloths. He was about to retort when she saw Joan give him one of her side eyes and nodded without his usual cute comeback. Joan took the tablecloths from him, and Sara pointed at the boxes.
"I gotta get those into my car," she said.
"Aren't you going to help me?" he asked as they both headed towards the door.
"Um, no. You're a big boy, and I'd rather watch you do it," she said, winking at him.
"So where are these going to?" Harry asked as she opened the back of the station wagon.
"The Venice bungalow location," she said.
"The place we met," he whispered to her as he shoved the box into the back.
"Careful. Joan will kill me if these break," Sara said, biting her lip. She'd spaced on the importance of the location, all aglow from Joan's compliments, and wished she could have made some sort of excuse to get out of it. She glanced at Harry. She could ask him, but then he'd take it the wrong way, and she wasn't ready to be so forward.
She'd be in and out of there anyway and never go near the backyard, she reasoned.
"Hello? Sara? Did you hear me?" Harry's voice broke through her reverie.
"Sorry, no. What?" Sara said, already walking back to get the other boxes.
"Never mind," Harry said from somewhere behind her. They got the other boxes into the car without saying another word to each other. She must have missed something important for him to be so pouty. Or not, boys could be extremely sensitive.
Missing Soul Page 1