by Gina Ranalli
Straddling her body, I look over my shoulder, half expecting to see an enraged man charging me with a steak knife aimed at my back, but there’s nothing. No one. It’s just me and her.
My heart in my throat, I start thinking about shit I never thought about before. Things like fingerprints, shoe patterns, carpet fibers and DNA.
I’m already caught, I think. Already fucked forever. And it’s this dumb bitch’s fault. Why the fuck is she home? This could have been so easy. In and out like all the rest. No one had to get hurt. But here we fucking are, both of us fucked now. Both of us.
She starts wriggling beneath me and I almost hit her again but my knuckles are already sore and bleeding which brings me back to fucking DNA again. So instead of hitting her, I wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze as hard as I fucking can.
Her thrashing is so violent she almost jolts me off her body but I hold on like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. Her eyes are wide open. Wide open. And I’m staring into them, pools of blue space holding me transfixed, mesmerized, almost the way it is when you’re gazing into the eyes of someone you’re in love with, long before they break your heart.
The whites of her eyes abruptly fill with blood. Something in them bursts, capillaries or something, and she stops flailing around as much, her movements becoming slow and sluggish until she’s completely still, her focus remaining on me and I keep squeezing. Her neck is small. She’s small, really. A petite thing and I’m reminded of a bird with their fragile bones, so easy to snap even if it’s by accident.
I remember a parakeet. Blue and white, in its cage in the kitchen of the house where I grew up. Me, eight years old, trying to catch it in my fist, but it was scared and flying around inside the cage and by the time I’d caught it, I just squeezed too hard. I heard tiny twigs snap and then the bird was still. So easily, with no effort at all.
Just like this woman I’m on top of.
What a shitty way to end—or maybe begin—the night.
I have a headache all of a sudden and I crawl away from her body, eyeing the toilet, wondering if I’m gonna puke. I feel like I am. I lean my back against the wall, which feels impossibly cool and wonderful through my shirt. It gives me comfort and I swallow hard, trying to settle my shaking. It seems like it goes on for a long time and for a while not only am I in danger of throwing up but I’m also in danger of crying.
Fuck.
Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t she just have gone off with her tall, handsome husband like they did every other Wednesday night?
I notice the tissue still gripped in her hand.
Sick, probably. She’d been too sick to go out and now she was dead.
Life is unfair as a motherfucker.
My head still pounding, my stomach still roiling, I climb slowly to my feet. I need to get out of here. I don’t know how much time has passed but it seems like a century. I feel like a different person and I suppose I am. I’m a killer now. A woman killer. The newlywed killer.
I wonder if that’s what the media will name me. They love to give names to killers who piss people off more than just the average amount of pissed off. And I think this case might qualify.
Leaving the bathroom, I make my way into the bedroom, to the window, which looks down on the parking lot and the outside stairs leading up to the apartment. There’s still no movement anywhere. The coast is clear once again. Or still. Whatever.
I slip out the door, using my shirt sleeve cuff on the knob, both inside and out. I’m still thinking about fingerprints and hoping I didn’t leave any inside. I don’t think I touched much. I was mostly still in the looking around phase but that fact doesn’t give me much comfort.
Halfway across the parking lot, a car pulling into the complex. A yellow Volkswagen, one of my neighbors, and he looks right at me, even brakes his car a little when he sees me, and he waves.
I wave back and hurry away, my heart still lodged in my throat. I’ve been seen. He’ll remember. He’ll tell the cops when they come. I probably don’t have much time. Hours at most. Maybe less, if the groom decides to call home to see how his sick bride is faring. Maybe he’ll feel guilty about leaving her alone. And when she doesn’t answer? Maybe he’ll assume she’s asleep, trying to recover. Maybe not.
All I know for sure is that I’m fucked. My life is over almost as permanently as hers is. As his is.
I wonder what my parents will think. My co-workers. Friends.
It feels like what I imagine having an out of body experience would feel like. A strange disconnect, like I’m not completely myself, and I think briefly of defense attorneys and bars of cold, hard steel.
My knuckles are still painful, bleeding, evidence.
I have to go now.
CHAPTER FIVE—The Junkie (3)
I wake up in an armchair and I know immediately I’m not at home because I don’t own an armchair.
My mouth is desert dry and the light in this room is dim and golden, like candlelight. The first thing I can really focus on is a wall of bookcases, filled to overflowing and made of some dark wood I can’t identify.
-How was your trip?
I want to say terrible but I can’t gather enough spit in my mouth to form any words. And there’s the fact that I don’t know who’s speaking to me. Some guy I can’t see.
There’s a terrifying moment when I think maybe I’ve been kidnapped. Maybe I’m tied down. I try to raise my arm and it comes up easily, the relief washing over me like the cool water I wish I was drinking.
I touch my face, feel the roughness of my cheek. It’s not unusual. I shave once a week if I’m feeling ambitious.
A man steps into my line of vision and he looks familiar. It’s what’s-his-name. From Sennacherib’s.
Halleck.
He leans forward at the waist, peering into my face. When he reaches a hand towards me, I flinch away, but he grabs my head and uses his fingers to make my eye open wider, as if he’s a doctor or something. He studies me for a few seconds, then releases me.
-What was it like?
I try to reply but only a croak comes out. I wish I knew what the fuck was going on. I’m suspicious he might have shoved his dick down my throat while I was out, causing it to be dry and sore. Fucker.
-It was a rough one by the look of it.
I want to tell him that, yeah, it was, but hey, at least I didn’t puke on myself when I came back this time. That almost makes up for maybe being a murderer or whatever the fuck that was. Not really, but almost.
-How do you feel? What happened?
Getting to my feet, I push past him and look around. We’re in a basement, but it’s a nice one. Finished. The only reason I can even tell it’s a basement is because the ceiling is so low and there are little rectangular windows right up close to it, too high to be able to see anything more than sky though.
There are wooden posts holding up the ceiling and off to one side there’s one of those huge, old sinks, separated into two halves and almost deep enough to bathe in. I stumble over to the sink and turn on the faucet. I don’t bother waiting to see if the water is clear or not—just stick my head under and drink deep. Lucky for me, the water seems fine. Better than fine. Right then it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever swallowed in my whole life.
When I’ve had my fill, I turn off the faucet, wipe water from my chin and look back at Halleck still standing by the chair I was sitting in.
I’m surprised to see Hoop standing beside him, meaty arms folded across his barrel chest, glaring at me.
-What is this? An intervention?
The two men exchange a glance without humor and I immediately feel uneasy.
-Seriously. What the fuck is going on? Why am I here? And where is here, anyway?
Hoop unfolds his arms, then folds them again.
-Sit down, Eon.
He gestures at the chair with his chin.
I raise my voice a little louder.
-Where am I?
-In the basement o
f Sennacherib’s. You’re fine. We just want to talk to you.
-Is this about the no drugs in the bar thing? Because I don’t remember coming here. All I remember is—
-It’s not about that. It’s about the drug itself. We want to know what you’ve been experiencing.
-Why?
They exchange another look and I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Halleck steps forward a few paces.
-What did you see?
-I saw…I guess…I saw myself kill someone. A woman.
The sense of shame I feel saying it out loud is unexpected and overwhelming. I decide to take the offered seat after all. I’m queasy. Just like I was when I strangled the woman, felt her breathe her last breath.
But that wasn’t me.
Was it?
-It wasn’t really me. I was a rock star. That’s what I wanted to get back to. That life. I was rich. I think I was pretty happy. But this time…I don’t know. I don’t know what that was about.
Halleck sits in a chair opposite me, leaning forward, elbows on knees.
-What was the world like?
I look at him.
-The world? What do you mean?
-Was it like this? Like our world? Or was it more futuristic? Was anything different?
-I…I don’t know. I don’t think so. Well, maybe a little but I was inside for most of it.
Hoop makes an irritated groaning sound, like he’s disgusted with my answer. Halleck ignores him.
-What did you see?
I shrug.
His eyes bore into me, making me more nervous still. I feel like I’m being interrogated when he repeats the question.
-What did you see?
-I don’t know. Nothing, really. Just an apartment. An apartment complex. That’s it.
-Was it nice?
-Yeah, I guess so.
-Where was it?
Stumped, I just stare at him.
-Was it here? This city?
Hoop, standing behind Halleck and a little to the right, puts a hand on the older man’s shoulder.
-Never should have chosen him. I fucking told you.
This confuses me even further, not to mention worries me a bit.
-Chose me? For what?
I look around the basement again. There are not only books but mason jars on shelves against the wall opposite me. At first glance it looks like they might be filled with canned tomatoes—stewed I guess? Is that what they’re called?—but then I realize whatever is in the jars looks too purple for tomatoes. This puzzles me but I look past them, past the men, and towards the stairs leading down here. I want to leave and wonder what would happen if I just got up and started to walk out. Would they stop me? Hurt me?
Then a good question occurs to me.
-Where’s Harvey?
Halleck frowns.
-Who?
-Dent, I mean. Where’s Dent?
-The guy with the rat face and the cheap suit? You don’t need to worry about him. He’s not involved with this.
-What exactly is this?
-We need to know what you saw when you crossed over.
-But Harvey told me—
Hoop takes a step closer to me, bringing him shoulder to shoulder with Halleck.
-Fuck Dent and fuck what he told you. He’s just a parrot.
I’m liking this less and less. They’re starting to act more like the mafia than cops and I’m hoping I don’t give them a wrong answer but since I have no idea what’s going on, it seems inevitable that I’ll do just that.
Getting to my feet, I start walking towards the stairs. They both turn, watching me, and then Halleck grabs my arm. Not hard or threateningly but he grabs it just the same.
-I have what you want, Eon. Plenty of it. And if you want to go and live a happy life, I’m the only one who can make that happen for you.
I pull my arm free. I want to say something that makes me sound tough and unafraid, basically tell them to go fuck themselves, but the other part of me—the weaker, more desperate part—just wants more of the drug. Despite that last trip, if a trip is even what it was, the memory of living the good life is a fucking powerful one. Even if it’s more like a dream than reality.
Halleck doesn’t grab me again. He gestures at our surroundings, as if he’s showing me around a palace.
-All you want. Within reason, of course. I’m not going to let you O.D. That would be terrible for business. But you need to tell us about your experiences. That’s it.
I hesitate.
-So…let me get this straight. You’ll get me high for…what exactly?
Halleck smiles then, his teeth yellow and a bit brown by the gum-line. Like everybody else’s.
-Free.
-Free.
I don’t ask, I just repeat.
-What’s the catch?
-There’s no catch, Eon. Nothing more than what I already told you. You go…visiting…and then report your findings. That’s all.
-Visiting?
-Whatever you want to call it.
I look past him at Hoop, who’s still staring at me like he’s spotted shit on his shoe.
-What about you, Hoop? What about your no drug rule? This shit doesn’t make any sense.
-The rules are the same as they’ve always been.
Hoop runs a hand over his bald head and maybe softens just a bit.
-Desperate times though, right?
-You’re doing this for money?
-No, man. I’m doing it for the same reason you’re going to do it.
-That right? What reason is that?
It seems to me like his eyes darken a shade before he replies but I’m sure that’s just a trick of the light.
-A way out of this shithole place.
I nod like I understand but I really don’t.
-So, why me then?
-You’re the biggest junkie I know, man. Always have been. Even when we were kids, you were the one showing all the other kids how to huff shit or steal pills and crush ’em down to snort. You’re like a fucking drug guru or something.
Despite everything, I laugh. Then I look at Halleck again.
-Free? Like, totally free? No strings? No catch?
Halleck sighs then, like he’s getting bored with having to repeat himself. I can’t really blame him but I want to be sure.
-No strings. Just talking.
I pull at the whiskers of my thin beard.
-Can I think about it?
Hoop is the one who laughs then.
-What for, man? You know you’re just gonna say yes.
-How do you know?
-It’s your nature.
There’s not much about that I can argue with so I nod.
-When can I have more?
They look at each other and smile and I can’t get rid of the nagging sensation that I may have just fucked myself worse than I ever have before. But there’s something else too. A feeling that, no matter what these freaks have in mind, I’ll soon be on top of the world and far away from here and them and there’s nothing about that that sounds bad to me.
Hoop turns his pleased gaze to me.
-No time like the present, right, buddy?
CHAPTER SIX—The Astronomer
The meteor shower is scheduled to start any minute and Jo isn’t out here yet. I pop my head inside and call her name.
-Be right there.
The smell of popcorn wafts out to me and I can’t help but smile. My kid knows how to have a good time—something me and Beth have tried to instill in her. Having a good time is the most important thing in life.
Well, that’s my philosophy. Beth also tells Jo that being responsible and getting good grades is equally important and though I don’t say anything, I secretly just want my kid to be happy, even more than responsible. I wouldn’t say that out loud though. But Beth is a better parent than I am so I just defer to her wisdom in most things.
I go back to looking through the telescope and see the first shooting star. I call my daughte
r again, telling her to hurry up, she’s missing it.
She emerges from the house a minute later, carrying the bowl of popcorn, Beth trailing after her.
-Wow, Dad. I just saw one and I’m not even looking through the telescope!
I look down at her and smile. She’s only eight but her enthusiasm for the night sky is equal to my own. It’s our thing and though Beth humors us and tries to play along, she’s not all that interested. Not like Jo is.
-Pretty soon we might be able to see Venus.
-As long as it stays clear, right, Dad?
-Right.
I take the popcorn bowl from her and adjust the telescope so it’s the right height for her, with a little help from a small step stool. She gets right to it, ooing and ahhing almost immediately.
Placing the bowl down on a table, I put an arm around my wife’s waist and together we look up at the stars from our deck. It’s such a beautiful night and there’s just something about a meteor shower that always makes my blood feel electric somehow.
I’m living the life I’d always dreamed of—married my high school sweetheart, the only woman I’ve ever loved or ever cared to love and together we made this amazing, astounding little person who seems to me to be made of pure magic.
-Did you guys see that one?
Jo’s voice is tinged with the excitement I feel myself and I use my free hand to ruffle the hair on her head.
-Sure did, kiddo.
Beth leans into me, her head on my shoulder.
-Wow. It’s so clear out.
Jo laughs.
-So we can see the meteors!
-Right.
Jo and I stay out there for a couple hours while my wife goes back inside and cleans up the dinner dishes. It was supposed to be my turn but she’s letting it slide this time.
Eventually Beth reappears in the doorway.
-Okay you two. It’s getting late and it’s a school night.
Jo groans with disappointment.
-But, Mom.