Stevan Mena - Transience

Rebecca turned and ran.

“Rebecca!” Laura shot Jack a look that could kill as they both gave chase after her through the woods.

All at once, Rebecca’s world began to spin. Her windpipe clamped closed, like some force was pushing her head down. She started gasping and fell to her knees. Laura and Jack quickly surrounded her.

“Rebecca?” Laura shrieked, witnessing her daughter spasm and sputter. She grabbed her by both forearms and crouched down.

“Mama! Mama…lo siento. Lo siento!” Rebecca shouted. Her voice wasn’t her own. Her eyes went all funny and distant. She saw flashes of something, like a waking dream, dirty hands reaching for her. Her body became heavy, the blood rushing from her head. Her eyes glazed and she fell head first into Laura’s arms.

“Oh God, Rebecca!” Laura held Rebecca like a clamped vice, as if a swirling storm funnel was trying to wrestle her body from her grip.

Jack held onto Rebecca’s twitching legs. Rebecca stared blankly up into the trees, her eyes lifeless, as if her body were just a shell. Then suddenly her eyes went wide, she shivered, staring intently upon something only she could see, something terrifying.

Then, as if a silent bomb exploded inside her, Rebecca let out a spine ripping, banshee-like shriek that made all the birds in the trees scatter. It nearly knocked Laura over like a punch to the gut.

Rebecca shielded her face reflexively, as if fending off an invisible attacker, her screams growing louder, more frightful. Laura had been through this every night with her, but never so pronounced, never so lucid. And this time, even with her eyes locked on her daughter’s, Laura couldn’t calm her, rouse her from whatever evil force was torturing her mind. Rebecca was wide awake, screaming, and Laura could only look on helplessly.

Rebecca convulsed so hard, spit started dribbling down the sides of her mouth. Laura cleaned it off with her fingertips as Rebecca’s nose started to drip blood.

“Rebecca!” Laura’s terror turned to anger, she turned and raged at Jack. “What the hell did you do?”

Jack swallowed hard. “Nothing. I had no idea—”

“You had no idea? You show her God awful pictures of dead bodies, criminal mugshots, put that fear inside her head. You bring her to the gravesite of a murdered girl, show her something she used to wear! What next? Show her the knife she was stabbed with?”

“No.”

“What the hell is the matter with you? What did you expect to happen? She’s a child!” Laura’s rage reduced Jack to an open mouthed statue, frozen, dead inside. One good tap and he would have shattered into a thousand pieces. Guilt curdled his stomach, his brain went tilt. He wanted to get it over with and die right there.

Rebecca stopped twitching. She rolled towards Laura’s breast and calmed. Then her eyes slowly opened and looked up at Laura. “I found you. I missed you so much. I’m not angry anymore.” Rebecca’s eyes were trancelike. Laura’s face twisted with confusion.

“Rebecca? Rebecca?” Laura’s voice was urgent but calm, she didn’t want to startle or frighten her into another episode. Rebecca closed her eyes again.

“I can breathe again now,” Rebecca said. Laura began rocking her back and forth.

“Yes, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re safe. Oh thank God…”

Jack reached out to touch Laura’s shoulder, but then pulled back, unsure. He got up on one bended knee as Laura scooped Rebecca into her arms.

Laura placed Rebecca’s head on her shoulder and carried her away in a sprint; no clear direction, she just wanted to get away from Jack. Jack followed sheepishly.

“Laura, I’m sorry, please.”

Laura marched a few more yards and stopped out of exhaustion.

“Just take us home… please take us home.”

Rebecca coughed and opened her eyes. Red had replaced the pale milk color of her cheeks, the spell subsiding. Getting her away from the river — the gravesite, seemed to help.

Laura pushed Rebecca’s hair out of her face. She stroked her forehead a few times, smudging a little dirt. “Sweetie? Rebecca?”

“Mommy. I’m so scared.”

“Let’s get you both home,” Jack said.

Jack held out his hands for Laura to pass Rebecca to him. She did — reluctantly. She could carry her no further.

The three of them made their way back towards the road. Not another word was spoken.

Jack, you asshole …

The young woman crossed her legs, pulling her thin yellow sundress up above her knee, exposing it to the air — and to prying eyes. Her skin was soft, her hair light blonde, tied behind her head in a ponytail. Ripe fruit.

He guessed she was about 23. Pretty — not a stunner, but she’ll do . He checked the left hand. No ring.

She thrust her tongue in and out the hole of her straw, an iced coffee, Hazelnut. He’d stood behind her in line, overheard her order. He hadn’t followed the girl into the coffee shop. He was there to get one himself, a tea actually. Black tea with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. He despised coffee. Too bitter. He liked sweet things.

He made sure to seat himself where he could observe her, so happy she decided to stay. Then a friend joined her, followed by another, and soon they were three beautiful strangers sitting together, unwittingly blurting out intimate details about their private lives.

The blonde’s name was Teresa Mason, like the British actor. Thinking that helped him commit it to memory. He didn’t overhear them say her name — how often does someone use a person’s name during a conversation, especially a close friend. Unless it’s someone you haven’t seen in years and you need to reassure them you still remember who they are.

He gleaned her name from the ID badge dangling around her neck — a pass code key that allowed employees re-entry to secured buildings. She wore it like a piece of jewelry for all to see. Nothing wrong with that, except that it helped add a piece to a heinous puzzle for preying eyes. Teresa Mason, works at — he squinted to read — … UIC? UIC Industries was a software firm located in Midland Park Square, a group of buildings situated on a large campus, all corporate offices. Most had very nice places to eat right in their buildings, but not good coffee.

He tried to tune out the rest of the background noise to listen in on their back and forth. He overheard one of her friends mention she’d run into Randall yesterday. You remember Randall, that geeky dork who used to follow you around with his tongue hanging out? 11th grade? Teresa shrugged and made a face like she hadn’t remembered until now. She laughed and asked what he was doing. He’s a successful broker now, the friend said . He’s definitely got money — he was driving a BMW . Teresa’s head tilted, her tongue poked at her straw again.

She slurped down another gulp of Hazelnut iced coffee and turned to look at the strange, ugly man staring at her from across the cafe. His annoying gaze had started to wear a hole in her blouse. He turned away, nonchalant, and pretended to be looking at something important on his phone. She didn’t notice he was covertly snapping pictures of her and her friends.

Teresa turned up her nose in disgust, disregarding him. Her friends were too busy yapping to even notice. She re-joined the conversation and asked what Randall looked like now. The friend described him, said he’d asked about her . Teresa lit up with a grin full of perfect white teeth. The other friend, a heavyset one wearing a leather jacket two sizes too small for her, told Teresa you should meet up with him, might finally snap you out of your funk over Paul.