by Hughes, E.
I got on my bike again. Darkness loomed ahead. I realized the worst part of being alone, was the feeling that I wasn’t alone.
I looked over my shoulder. I saw someone in the distance, about a block away. I wiped my eyes hoping to make out one of my neighbors. Who was this stranger and what was he doing on our path this time of night? He rode a motorbike, and moved quickly toward me.
Our house was the only one for about two or three miles and the bike path ended well before then. I squinted, trying to make sense of the shadow, but he was gone… Where was he? He was there only a second before…
I was used to seeing ghosts around the house, but out here?
My thighs burned. Mud was clogging the wheels again and I had only gone a couple of blocks.
The bike path veered left of the road down a steep hill and whenever it rained, water and soot rolled down, washing the path with sludge. My bike sunk into the mess like it was quicksand, when suddenly I hit a bump and lurched forward, the chain on my bike snapping violently.
I was airborne for what seemed like an eternity. Then gravity took hold, ripping me out of the air like a disgruntled old man with a cane. I grunted, as I landed face down in the mud, blood dripping down my face. I tried to breathe but my chest hurt. Worse, the impact of my fall broke my laptop, smashing it to pieces.
I laid there a moment mumbling “fuck” and “shit” over and over again in frustration. Every bone in my body ached and the whole world went dark. Water from the puddle in crept into my nose. I coughed, choking as it burned the inside of my nostrils.
Then I heard it. The sound of a branch snapping underfoot.
There I was… alone, defenseless, and immobile in a deserted wooded area with Freddie Krueger . What in the hell was I thinking coming out here like this?
Then I heard it again… another footfall in the brush.
“Who’s out there?” I called.
I looked up, a desolate gray sky poured infinite drops of rain onto my face.
I waited quietly for the stranger to make his move as I wiped blood from my bottom lip, tasting dirt and soot… my nostrils leaked like I was a two year-old child with a bad cold.
A thin cloud of cigarette smoke settled overhead before slowly dissipating. The stranger was nearby.
I drew myself to my knees, palms on the ground. The cigarette in the stranger’s mouth dropped into the puddle at my finger tips, its dim red light slowly fading away in the darkness. Fiery red embers hissed at death by drowning.
The footfalls drew nearer, surrounding me in every direction.
“I’m just trying to get home,” I reasoned, giving the assailant a sideward glance.
I gazed into the darkness, hoping to make something out. A man of average height, lean, if not a bit muscular stood on the other side of my bike. I strained my eyes as I tried to make out his face.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
The man looked at me then reached into his front pocket, hand lingering a moment.
I didn’t wait for him to make his move. I scrambled to my feet and took off.
My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode out of my chest as I tripped over fallen branches and stumbled through a bush where I cut myself on a vine of thorns, searing my skin away.
There I was…dodging boulders, evading trees and the possible axe murderer following me. I looked back, but only for a split second. He kneeled over my bike then stood, lifting it out of the mud.
I ran like that creepy cop in the Terminator, and soon, saw light at the end of the tunnel. The trail, not far ahead, lead to the highway and the gravelly path to my house.
The sound of the stranger’s footsteps beating behind me in the distance soon gave way as I breached light and cut across the field. When I made it to the house I leapt two stairs at a time to the back door and banged it open with my fist.
I slammed it closed behind me. Safe, but exhausted, I slid to the kitchen floor in a heap and sobbed my eyes out…yet quietly, so mother would not hear me.
CHAPTER TWO:
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes the next morning was my cracked laptop. It sat on the nightstand next to my bed, a grim reminder of the night before.
I sat up, a blinding headache nearly pushing me back down. There was a lump on my temple where I apparently hit my head on a rock when I was thrown from my bike. Had I imagined the stranger? I couldn’t’ know for sure.
I got out of bed, wearing the pajamas I put on the night before, and limped to the bathroom. I stood before the mirror, inspecting the cuts and bruises on my arms and legs. A tiny plum sat beneath my eye. I looked like I had been in a fight.
I washed up, wiping remnants of grass and dirt from places you couldn’t imagine. Then I brushed my teeth and hair then went downstairs to eat breakfast. Mother always cooked a big breakfast. Taking care of the house was her only joy in life. I sighed at the thought of such an existence.
I sat at the kitchen table. Mother stood before the stove scrambling eggs while simultaneously rolling turkey sausages around in a frying pan.
Not a hair on her head was out of place. She wore it in a bun. At eight in the morning, she was fully dressed, makeup already on her face.
She wore a jogging suit most of the time but didn’t jog. Mother simply liked the way she looked in her outfits. Dad obviously liked the way she looked too. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Sometimes he’d sneak from behind and tickle her sides.
Mother used the spatula to scoop eggs and sausage onto a plate then turned to set it before me, looking down at my face for the first time.
The spatula fell to the kitchen floor.
“Dear lord! Victoria… what happened to your face?” Mother shrieked.
In other words, what kind of man was gonna want a beat up baldheaded old bumpkin like me?
“I fell off my bike, mother.”
Concern gave way to a look of anger.
“I told you not to ride your bike at night, and in a damned thunderstorm at that.”
I ignored her, scooping eggs onto my fork. Dad walked in, took one look at my face and grabbed the morning paper from the kitchen counter. Mother sat a plate of food and a cup of orange juice before him. He took a sip, flipped the pages of his paper open and began to read.
“How’s your story?”
“I’m screwed. I broke my laptop last night.”
Dad peeled the corner of his newspaper forward and peered at me from the brim of his glasses.
“You can have the old one downstairs in the den. What are you gonna do about the article?”
“I finished the story but I can’t get it because it’s on the broken laptop. I’ll write it again, I’m just…”
I sighed, throwing my hands in the air. Wasn’t like we could really talk with mom in the room.
“What’s on your mind, Tai?”
If I told them about last night, they’d freak. Then again, dad was cool… until mom figured out a way to rile him up.
“Nothing. I’m just a little tired…that’s all.”
“Get some ice on that shiner,” he ordered, gesturing toward my black eye.
I got up, went to the refrigerator, grabbed a tray of ice and poured the contents into a plastic zipper bag. I held it against my eye. Mother shook her head in dismay.
“I’m goin’ downtown. If you need a ride let me know,” dad said.
I sat down, ready to finish my breakfast. Mother laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Victoria! Before I forget to remind you, get your bike off the porch. I nearly broke my neck this morning.”
I got up, walked slowly to the back door and looked out. There it was… my bike sat on the porch steps, the back wheel spinning, chain in place.
I went outside in my pajamas and hauled the bike off of the stairs, scanning the yard nervously for my would-be attacker.
Weird things like this happened all the time. When I fell asleep the night before, I opened my eyes in the darkness a
nd for a fleeting moment…saw someone sitting on the window sill. Was I crazy?
I parked the bike and went back inside trying to figure out how it ended up on the porch. Maybe dad saw it when he was out for a jog and brought it back.
Satisfied, I went to the den and got my father’s old laptop. I remembered some of what I wrote for the article, but wondered if someone else had already beaten me to the story. According to Dana, the department planned to release a statement later that day. I sat at my desk and turned the laptop on.
When the old processor finally booted up, I went into my dampened messenger bag and took my notepad out. The words were smudges of ink running down the pages.
I swore loudly and slammed it on the table. The department was playing the arsons down, calling them “isolated” or “copycat” fires. Madison Heights had a serial arsonist on its hands and the public deserved the truth. But I also had an obligation to the department as its civilian researcher I had to get permission from Dana who was the lead detective on the case before I wrote an article alerting the public to the pyromaniac on the loose in our city. It was a matter of choosing my words carefully.
Dad gave me a ride downtown a few hours later. As promised, Dana waited outside of Satsuki, the Japanese restaurant across the street from the burned out diner.
“Thank god you’re not on that damned bike,” was the first thing out of her mouth.
I took my sunglasses off and put them on top of my head.
“What happened to your face?” Dana exclaimed.
“It’s a looong story.”
“Well… I wanna hear the story so let’s get inside where you can tell me about it.”
I hated when Dana talked like a cop.
“Is this an official interrogation?”
“Maybe.”
“You wanna cuff me first?”
“I just might, if you don’t get your ass through that door.”
She opened the door and I walked ahead like one of her criminals. We sat down, taking a corner table where she could watch the rest of the room and keep an eye on the burnt down diner across the street.
“I’ve been staking the diner out all morning.”
“We’re not blowing your cover are we?”
“No. I put two guys out there. They needed a break so it’s a good thing we’re sitting here. What happened to your face?”
The young waitress from the night before appeared at our table. I was slightly relieved. Since the accident, everyone, including Dana, was overly protective of me.
“Hi, nice to see you again,” the young woman said. The name Mihoko was on her name tag. “May I take your order?”
She smiled and I smiled back. Dana rolled her eyes and glared at the bruises on my arms and face. I was stalling and she knew it.
We gave the young woman our orders and she scribbled it in her notepad.
“Alright, enough’s enough. Tell me what happened or I’m filing a report.”
“I fell off my bike, it’s no big deal.”
“Fell off a bike my ass…you look like you fell off a damned cliff.”
“I took the bike path to my house. Got caught in a mudslide. The chain on the bike snapped and I fell.”
“How’d you get the black eye? What happened to you, Tai?”
I waved my hands in mock surrender.
“Fine… I’ll tell you the truth. I took the bike path to my house. The chain snapped, and I fell. I was probably out for about thirty seconds. I woke up, looked around and some guy was standing over me.”
“You’re shitting me!” she squealed.
“I took one look at him and took off. I don’t remember the cuts and bruises. Or how I got them for that matter.”
“So you rode your bike into a densely wooded area in the middle of the night and some lunatic tried to grab you? What on earth would possess you to do something so stupid? I told you I would give you a ride.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m tired of people fussing over me all the time…”
The smell of chicken Teriyaki and rice wafted into my nostrils. I looked up. A young Japanese man stood next to our table with two trays in his hands. I inhaled as he sat the plates before us, long dark hair swaying in front of his eyes. He was tall, with broad permanently slouched shoulders. His face was lean and his body thin but sculpted. He looked up and I recognized him immediately.
Squinting my eyes for a better look, I leaned forward, trying to see past the veil of glossy dark hair.
“O? Is that you…?” I asked.
My eyes slid to the muscular lines of his neck, down to the top of his exposed chest. O’s heart hammered visibly through taunt rippling, sticky flesh.
Without moving his head, he looked up with his eyes…taking me in… then finished setting our plates before us.
“Victoria.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew exactly who I was. He glanced at the bruise under my eye then looked away.
“Can I get you anything else?”
When he spoke his voice was a deep vibrato, his accent was more prominent than it used to be. I suspected he’d spent much of the past six years back in Japan.
I fumbled over what I should say next. O and I went to the same high school. I used to tease him about his name. “O” was for “Omelet”.
“How are you?” I probed. “How long have you worked here?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of his face. He looked younger than his twenty-five years, but the aura emanating about him, something in his dark exotic eyes made him seem older and wiser than he should be…
Disappear Love is available in paperback and as an e-book for Amazon Kindle.