Frank Zafiro - Beneath a Weeping Sky

“Bitch!” he snarled.

Katie’s eyes were drawn to his face. An enraged variation on the police sketch glared back at her.

A moment later, another attack flashed out at her. She brought her opposite forearm across to block this second attack. Something bit painfully into her arm.

He pulled his hand back. “You like that, bitch?”

Katie gaped down at her right arm. The white terrycloth sleeve was stained bright red.

The knife came slashing back at her in something akin to a sword stroke. She held up her hands defensively. The cool blade sliced through the flesh of several fingers, leaving an icy trail behind.

Katie let out a cry. A moment later, warmth flooded through her fingers. Pain throbbed in her hand with each heartbeat.

He drew back the knife to slash again, but paused a moment. He shifted the handle in his hand until the blade was pointed downward so that he could stab instead of slash. Katie stared at the silver blade tinged with her own blood. Fear raced through her body.

“I’m going to lay the whammo on you,” he whispered hoarsely, his tone almost reverent.

Katie met his gaze. A sheen of lust and anger coated his eyes, radiating outward. She read her own death in the black pinpricks of his pupils.

He stabbed downward with the knife.

Katie brought her foot up sharply, driving it into his groin with every ounce of strength she could muster. Her instep landed with a solid thunk. The force of the blow rang up her leg as far as her hip.

As soon as the kick landed, his downward stab faltered and fell to his side. A low groan escaped his lips. He reached for his groin and sank to his knees.

Katie sidestepped the kneeling assailant and sprinted for her bedroom. At her bedside table, she grasped the portable telephone. The receiver slipped out of her bloody hand, falling to the floor. She knelt and picked it up. With trembling, blood-soaked fingers, she punched in the numbers 9–1 — 1.

Her heart racing, she pressed the receiver to her ear.

One ring. Then two.

She watched the bedroom door, her entire body trembling with adrenaline.

Three rings.

“Nine one one, state your emergency.”

He burst into the room with a roar. His face was contorted in rage.

“YOU BITCH!”

He held the knife out in front of his body in his right hand.

“I need police here now !” Katie screamed into the telephone.

“What is the problem?” the calm voice on the other end of the line asked.

He lunged forward, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set.

Katie tossed the telephone aside. She dove onto her bed, tucking and rolling across the mattress. As she left the far side of the bed, she fell to the floor on her knees. Scrambling to her feet, she raced toward her dresser. Her service pistol rested there.

His eyes followed her motion towards the gun, and he moved to cut her off.

* * *

The 9-1-1 transfer popped up on Janice Koslowski’s screen. As always, the urgency of the call was indicated by the red font and the blinking letters. With a few quick keystrokes, she opened the call. Calmly, she read the text.

Female voice states she “needs police here now.” Male voice in background calling her “a bitch.” Phone dropped. Open line, sounds of struggle.

Janice looked at the address. It was immediately familiar, but it took her a moment to remember why she knew it. Then she gasped. Without pause, she depressed her microphone lever and spoke.

* * *

“Any available units,” the car radio crackled. “Code Ninety-Nine at 5610 North Calispel. Officer MacLeod’s residence. All available units, respond.”

Gio slammed on his brakes and cranked the wheel, whipping his patrol car around. Then he buried the accelerator. The police cruiser leapt forward, the engine opening up with a throaty roar as he headed north.

* * *

Get the gun!

Katie reached the dresser first. She grasped the pistol by the grips and popped the snap with her thumb. With her bloody left hand, she clutched at the holster and pulled.

The holster slipped from her hand.

He reached her, his free hand lashing out at her. The blow caught her square in the nose, driving her back into the wall. Stunned, she flailed at the holster. Her wet fingers were beginning to go numb. She found one of the belt loops and pinched. With her right hand, she jerked the gun from the holster.

Another crushing punch thundered into her face, this one flush in the eye. Stars ricocheted through her vision. A forceful slap knocked the gun from her hand and sent it clattering away.

He took a fistful of her hair and yanked, pulling her forward to the ground. Her vision cleared just as he jammed her face into the wooden floor of her bedroom. She felt his knee between her shoulder blades. The weight of his body pressed down on her, pinning her to the ground.

“Not so tough without a gun, are you?” he taunted her. “Without that, you’re just another worthless bitch.”

Katie struggled to breath. She flailed with her arms, trying to find purchase on something, trying to dislodge him from his position of control.

He chuckled darkly. “You can try as much as you want. It won’t matter. I’m stronger than you. Much stronger.” His voice took on a faraway note. “Finally, I’m much stronger than you.”

Think, Katie! Don’t let him beat you! Think!

“Cops,” Katie wheezed,” are…coming…”

She felt his motion shift and heard his voice nearer to her ear. “Maybe so. Maybe they’ll even catch me this time. But not before I lay the whammo on you.” He pressed the cold blade against her cheek. “So it really doesn’t matter, does it?”

Katie stopped struggling. She let out a whimper of fear.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “Now, don’t move.”

The weight slid off her shoulders, but the blade remained resting against her face. He tore aside her robe, baring her skin. He paused for a moment. Katie felt his knife hand tremble. A cold, sick feeling broke out through her entire body. She pushed it away. Instead, she focused her anger.

Then she heard the clattering noise of his belt unbuckling.

Now! It has to be now!

Katie waited.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper descending seemed to fill the room.

You can’t let this happen. Not again.

Next came the rustle of his jeans as he pushed them over his hips.

Now!

Katie waited.

When she felt the rigid warmth of his erection brush against her bare buttocks, she twisted away from the knife. Whirling and sitting up, she swung her left hand blindly, fingers extended. The knife edge of her hand caught him in the temple.

He grunted in surprise.

Katie didn’t stop. She reached out with both hands and gouged her fingertips into his eyes.

A primal scream erupted from his mouth. He lashed out madly with the knife, clipping her in the shoulder with the point of the blade.

Katie yelped and let go. She scrambled backward across the wooden floor until her back slammed into the wall.

“You fucking cunt!” he yelled. His empty hand rubbed at his eyes while he held the knife out in front of him, slashing defensively from side to side. “You blinded me!”

Katie heard her own breath racing in and out of her lungs. She watched him in horror as he rose to his feet.

Where were the police?

Crouching in the corner, with the bed to her left and the wall to her right, she felt like a trapped animal. She told herself that she should get up, scramble over the bed and run out of the house. Before she could react, she heard a siren in the distance. Momentary relief washed over her.

He removed his hand from his face. Blinking, he looked around the room. For a moment, she wondered if he’d be able to see her. Then he cocked his head slightly and his gaze locked onto her.