Alexander’sonlybeengonefor fifteen minutes, but it doesn’t take long for me to get dressed. I have an hour to get out of here and to the new building. For once, I won’t be late, not by a second. I dress in a lax t-shirt and jeans with my boots, easy enough to hide a knife or two in. I opt for a jacket, as it’s raining and the temperature’s dropped. It may not be exactly armor, but it’ll do. I grab the hand gun in the first drawer by the door. Better safe than sorry.
I return to my room to take one final look. I tuck my necklaces inside my shirt, feeling the cold metal against my skin. The rain picks up, a slight wind whipping around the walls.
The drive to the new building has my heart racing and my mind second guessing itself. Am I making the right choice? Should I have told someone? It doesn’t matter now; I have to follow through with my decision.
Lost in thoughts of second doubts, I arrive at the new building. There’s an eerie feeling as I hear the rain pattering against my car. It’s the suspense of what’s to come, trap or not. I lock my door and give one last glance at my phone. No missed calls or messages. I leave my phone in my car and lock the door, adjusting my jacket and readying myself for what’s to come.
I make my way through the front entrance; I have no specific instructions, but this is my turf, my building. I walk through each corridor, staring at the partially finished rooms. Offices explode with color, areas open and warm to invite people in. We’d planned in the next few weeks to start moving in and planning the opening ceremony. The echo of my footsteps creak.
I scour for any signs of anyone else being here, other than workers who may come and go. The empty education rooms are haunting as the rain sneaks through and distant thunder roars in the background. I make my way up the stairs to the second floor of the shelter. Checking every room, I see nothing but wrapped up furniture awaiting residents. I look at my watch’ it’s just past 9pm, and no mark of the mystery person.
I’ve given up hope. This was a cat and mouse game. Suddenly, the screeching of a mouse skids across my foot, making me jump. I need to remember to call pest control in the morning. I make my way through the services area, the open cubicles and meeting rooms. It all makes me smile; I can’t wait to get back to work after this is all over.
There’s no sign of life, other than me and that rat. I think I put too much faith into this; time to turn around.
One last look, and I head to the call center area, where my new office has begun to feel like home. I’ll miss my little hallway, but this will be closer, more open and inviting. I take a deep breath as I spot something moving in the shadows. I turn on a work light, shining it around the room, but no one’s there. Perhaps my paranoia is getting to my head. I pat my jacket down, checking to make sure I still have everything with me. Gun tucked in my side holster, check; knives still weighing heavy in my boots, check.Teresa Saoirse, time to go. Enough of this scooby shit. I turn back towards the grand hallway, only to feel something come down hard across the back of my head. All I see is pitch black.
A long, wide field stretches in front of me, nestled in a deep stretch of mountains. A slightly warm breeze whispers against my cheek, ruffling my hair. A small figure stands just ahead of me. I feel drawn toward it, to its pine and wet grass scent. Its light brown hair rattles a memory free. I place a hand on its bare shoulder and turn them around to see the warm brown eyes of a friend.
“Lucie,” I whisper, wanting to pull her into a hug, but my eyes drift downwards.
She’s covered in bullet holes. This is no memory or ghost of the past, but a haunting nightmare. No, I need to wake up. I don’t want to relive this guilt. No, no, no, please!
“No!!” I scream out. I scan the room, slowing my breathing down. I’m still in the new building, the rain still tapping on the ground. It’s a full storm now, thunder roaring and lightning lighting up the sky. I try to move my hands, but find myself in a chair, my hands bound behind me with what feels like a zip tie.
“What the hell?” Fuck, this was a trap. Ignorance is truly both bliss and a curse. “Son of a bitch.”
“Oh good, sleeping beauty is awake.” A cringy voice I know all too well joins me.
“I was fucking right.” Take that Rawlings, you motherfucker. “Honey, you might as well come out of the shadows, though I suppose thatisyour natural lighting.” I couldn’t help myself.
“Seriously, I should have shot higher last time.” She steps into the light, the construction bulb beaming like a burning flare.
“What do you mean ‘last time’?” I think back to the times I’d been shot. My mind flashes. She wasn’t at the shipping yard. No, back in May, the first time. In the screeching cars that zoomed past the entrance.
“That was you!”
Carla snorts. “Wow, sheissmart.”
My temper flares. I can either play it cool or let my temper get the best of me. I’m going to go with cool. And choose revenge when the time is right.
Her high heeled boots clack against the hardwood floor. She traded her skimpy tight skirts for black leather pants, plus a bustier, pushing her fake boobs higher. Any higher and they might touch her ears.
“Can I please shoot her?” She reaches behind her and pulls out a gun, waving it in the air. I don’t know exactly who she’s speaking to, but I have a running list. Sheldon, the weasel. I wouldn’t put it past him to come back, regardless of the price on his head. Jonathan, that cockroach. They’d make a wonderful villain couple. A tall, shadowy figure flicks a lighter on, lighting a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke.
Idiot, you should have told someone where you were.
Lightning cracks suddenly, illuminating the area. l The air in my lungs leaves me, my body failing.
“No,” I stagger out. I shake my head, trying to disprove what I think I saw.
“She’s not very smart, is she boss?” Carla says, continuing to wave the gun around like a toy.
He comes closer and closer, diminishing the space between us. A cloud of nicotine circles my face, making me cough.
“Good evening, Ms. Bjorn,” a dark, deep voice grounds out.
A lump in my throat forms. “Mr. Connors.”