Dave Zeltserman - Bad Karma

Cohen led them through the ICU to Emily’s room. She was propped up in bed, her head mostly shaved and a thick bandage wrapped around her skull. Her eyes looked swollen and her skin had a jaundiced tint to it. Both an IV and a morphine drip were attached to her arm, and other equipment monitored her blood pressure and heart rate. She looked so small lying there that Shannon almost didn’t recognize her. When she saw Susan, her face scrunched up into a mass of creases. “My head hurts,” she whimpered softly.

Susan was both crying and smiling brightly at the same time. “I know, Em.” She moved quickly to the bed and hugged her friend. Cohen nudged Shannon, told him he’d be back in five minutes and then Emily would need to rest.

The two women embraced for a minute, then Susan sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Emily’s shoulder.

“I bet I had you worried,” Emily said.

“You’d win that bet, Em.”

“You should’ve known it’d take more than a conk on my noggin to get rid of me.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Shannon asked.

Emily squinted over at Shannon and noticed him for the first time. “I got hit on the back of my head,” she stated, annoyed.

“I know. Did you see anything?”

She shook her head, winced. “I don’t remember much, except hearing somebody rustling around in your apartment when I came home from work. After that it’s all fuzzy.”

“How’d you get into my apartment?”

She stared at him as if he were dense. “With a key. How’d you think I got in?”

“You gave me back my key.”

She hesitated, smiling sheepishly. “I made a copy in case I ever lost your spare.”

“Hon, that’s enough interrogation for tonight,” Susan said to Shannon, then to Emily, “Em,” she said, “I’m so happy that you’re okay.”

“I know, Susie. I’m just going to have a headache for a couple of days, that’s all.”

Cohen had walked back into the room. He suggested that it would be best for Emily to rest. Susan gave her another hug and told her she’d be back visiting tomorrow.

“You mean today,” Emily said. “Already past midnight.”

“Today,” Susan agreed, her smile brighter than any Christmas tree.

During the ride back to the hotel, Susan rested her head against Shannon’s shoulder. She looked exhausted, too emotionally spent to talk. The skies lit up every few seconds as lightning flashed over the Flatirons. Rain started to hit the windshield.

By the time they got back to their room, Susan was out on her feet. Shannon helped her into bed and out of her clothes. He then sat on the floor and tried to meditate, but he couldn’t slow down all the noise in his head. Every time he closed his eyes thoughts would start bombarding him. The one that was most persistent and loudest was his wondering what the connection was between the two murdered students and that cult.

He knew he had no chance of sleeping. He wrote Susan a note, left it on his pillow and headed out to his car. Outside the skies had opened up and the rain was coming down in sheets. The lightning now seemed to be overhead, the thunder crashing around him. He drove to his apartment. When he arrived there he put on a sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts and headed outside. Within seconds he was soaked, the water adding pounds to his clothing. He started running as hard as he could. Within minutes he could feel the burn in his leg muscles and chest, but he kept pushing himself. At times lightning lit up the trees along his path as if bombs were being tossed, the thunder exploding next to him. He forced himself to keep sprinting at full speed and didn’t turn around until he was several miles from his apartment. On his way back he pushed himself harder. At times the rain hit him so hard in the face that he could barely breathe, his chest feeling as if it were about to explode in unison with the thunder going off around him, but he didn’t stop until he got back to his apartment building. There, he collapsed, hands on knees, and tried to suck in air through deep ragged breaths. He stayed paralyzed in that position for minutes before he could move. Then he went into his apartment and took a hot shower.

After changing into dry clothing, Shannon walked around his living room and put the books back on the shelves, all the while trying to keep his eyes off the gaping hole in the wall next to the closet. After that he straightened up the kitchen. When he went into the bedroom, he stood transfixed for a moment over the blood-stained carpet, then steeled his gaze away from it and started to pick up the papers and clothing that had been dumped out of the drawers and onto the floor. It took a while, but eventually he had the room straightened up. As far as he could tell, nothing was missing other than his computer and the surveillance tapes.

He went back to the living room, played a CD of Native American music by Carlos Nakai and sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. Running and straightening up the apartment had helped slow down his thoughts, but he knew his mind was still too active to get any sleep, and he saw no reason to go back to the hotel and risk waking up Susan. The repetitive beat of the drums helped relax him further and slow down the noise in his head. After a while he felt at peace and became aware of a stillness inside. It was a feeling he didn’t want to leave and he waited a long time before opening his eyes. When he did, he was surprised to see that it was ten past seven in the morning and that he’d been meditating almost three hours.

Outside, the sky had cleared up. The sun felt warm on his face as he looked out towards it. The only sign of last night’s storm were some branches that had fallen down. He walked to Juiced Up and met Eli at a corner table. The place was more crowded than usual with all the tables taken.

Eli gave him his typical deadpan stare, mentioned that Shannon looked refreshed. “I take it the thunderstorms didn’t keep you up.”

“Nope, not one bit. Your usual?”

Eli nodded, and Shannon went to the counter and bought a chai for his friend and a combination apple and carrot juice for himself.

“No coffee this morning, huh?” Eli asked, smiling.

“I think I got all that out of my system.” Shannon stopped to take a sip of his juice, then told Eli that his apartment had been broken into the other day and his neighbor attacked when she tried to investigate.

“Emily?”

Shannon nodded.

“Oh, Jesus,” Eli said. “I like that girl. Very spunky. I hope she’s okay.”

“I think she will be. She regained consciousness last night and outside of a fractured skull it doesn’t seem as if there was any significant damage. Susan had me give her a homeopathic remedy when I found her. I think it helped.”

“And you suspect the True Light cult is behind the break-in?”

“I’m pretty sure of it. I went there yesterday afternoon to talk to Melissa Cousins. They kept me waiting, and I think they used the time to send their Russian goons to my place.”

“What do the police think?”

Shannon took another drink of his juice. “Not worth talking about,” he said.

Eli nodded, his long face somber. “Before we get too far off subject, I’ve been thinking more about your lucid dream slash out-of-body experience the other day. You mentioned something about that girl responding with gibberish when you asked who killed her. By any chance do you remember what she actually said?”

Shannon consulted his notepad and found what he had scribbled down after he had woken up from his dream. He read the words to Eli.

“I’m not sure that’s gibberish,” Eli said.

“After reading it out loud, I’m not sure either. I guess it could be Swedish? Maybe some words I picked up subconsciously from a movie?”